The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1894-08-23
TWO MASTERS.
A Journalistic story.


is more than I can say. No one In
vited me to come, welcomed me when
arrived, or expressed a wish to have
me stay.
The place had no newspaper, it is
true, but it seemed to need none. Most
of the population were silver miners,
who were so much under ground as to
be little interested in affairs on the sur
face. Again, large part Of the in
habitants could not read; another large
part did not want to, and majority
of the remainder objected to paying for
the privilege.
Subscribers being so few, you may
imagine that advertisers were not very
plentiful. Those I secured insisted on
paying wholly in goods that were new
err Of use to me-
One advertiser was saloon-keeper-
never drank. Another was tobac-
onist-I did not smoke. A third was a
harness maker--I had no horse. A
fourth dealt in gunpowder, rend-rock,
dynamite, and other explosives while
never blew up anything or anybody
in my life excepting fgurahvely.
Nevertheless, [ managed to live, or
at all events, I did not die. At the end
of the first year I had 1876 subscribers,
210 of whom remained such because
I never attempted to collect their bills.
A few paid for Eastern advertisements,
and some job printing enabled me to
keep my head above water as general
thing For the rest Of the time I had
to hold my breath.
At last I reached such prosperity
that, after paying off my one journey
man on Saturday night, occasionally
found a dollar or two left for myself.
just at this time an opposition paper
was set up.
1.-THE Calabash City Spy, George
Rowe, editor and proprietor" appeared
in all the glory of second-ha type
mine was third hand-and a grade Of
paper somewhat resembling real
''news'-mine did not resemble it at
ALL The Spy had brand-new Wig
nette head. representing the town as
seen from Gringo Mountain. This ut
terly eclipsed my worn-out woodcut
of the Goddess of Liberty sitting on a
large cog-wheel surrounded by ploughs,
anchors and steam-engines. She held
Il book in one hand, and in the other a
wheat sheaf, which looked 50 much
like birch-rod that it gave her the
air Of an old-fashioned school-ma'am
holding a session in mach:1e-shop.
Rowe was q good-looking, bright, ac-
tive, well-educated young fellow, with
whom I should certainly have been
friendly under different circumstances;
but this was now quite impossible.
Aside from natural rivalry, 1t is a part
of the business of country editors to
be irreconcilable foes in order to sat
isfy the public's demand for excite
ment. 49,. .s- r.<
How we did quarrel! We quarrelled
about politics, though we belonged to
the same party; about law religion and
medicine; about the amount OF silver
to the ton in the last cleanup at the
Muchacho mine; about the distance of
the earth from the sun, and the dis
lance Of Juan Moreno's ranch from the
town plaza; about all things celestial,
terrestrial, and subterrene.
By practice, we grew so expert that
really believe we could have carried
on a lively discussion about the four
rules Of arithmetic
When this war had gone on for sew
eral months, I detected a falling of
in the vigor of the Spy. 1t was as true,
ulent as ever, but written with a GER
tain languor which seemed to show
that Rowe was losing courage. This
of course, inspired me to renewed eff
forts, and began to hope that shoulc
drive the foe off the field. ,.l.
One publication day 1 sat down early
to do up the customary batch Of ''scat
tering exposures" and "unanswer
able arraignments" of the Spy, whe1
Bud Haskins, my editorial assistant
.compositor, job printer, mailing clerk
and man-of- all-work, came in, beam1n;
with joy. .t.
'Got some good news for you, MI
Warrenw said he, grinning. "Cordin
to the way it looks now, there won
be no Spy this week-p'r'aps not mex
week-p'r'aps never" ."
'How's that?' I inquired, muc]
pleased .-
''Rowe's sick abed-fever or sunthin
He can't do stroke of work, n tina
fellow Mckay he has with him amt O
no great use. No Spy this week, tel
you -..,r
He triumphantly slammed the dool
and retired to begin his days work.
For a moment. mean as the emotio
was I felt glad. If Rowe missed a
issue or two he would lose the groun
he had gained, and probably have
give up altogether. Then 1 should b
left with the whole field to myself
Yes, actually felt glad.
"I'm going out for a few minute:
Budn' called to Haskins.
"Goin' far he asked, cycling m
with an exceedingly penetrating scr,
tiny.
"Oh no, just up the street a bit"
answered, embarrassed.
My reception at the Spy office ws
chilling. AS entered the dingy, PIN
boarded room, Mckay, a big, stupi'
looking man. stared, and then sided t
ward a mallet on the composing ston
Il want to see Mr.. Rowe" said /.
Hes in bed up stairs" growled Nj
Kay, lifting the mallet. Hes too sic
to fight to-day"
Nobody wants to fight" said
II, TO .