The Washington herald., 1914-02-15
tcorydsht. MAJ
kR. EDWARD BUTTON. the in
N dustrious editor of the Daily
tcopisht. MA,

opening letters and marking proofs e
the merry tune Of typewriter worked
by a vigorous young lady. His Life
was a series of distracted compromise.
between the proprietor of the paper
(and of himself). who was senile
soap boiler with three incradicable
mistakes in his mind, and the very able
staff he had collected to run the paper ;
some of whom were brilliant and cx-
perienced men and-what was even
worse-sincere enthusiasts for the po-
litical policy of the paper. A letter
from one of these lay Immediately be-
fore him; sAad. rapid and resolute
though he was, he seemed almost to
hesitate before opening it. He took UP
a strip of proof instead, ran down 1T
with blue eye and blue pencil, al
tered the word adultery" to the word
-impropriety,' rang a bell, and sent the
proof flying upstairs. Then, with a
more thoughtful eye, he ripped open
the letter from his more distinguished
contributor, which bore postmark OF
Devonshire and ran as follows:
Dear Button:
"As see you're working Spooks and
Docks at the same time. what about an
article on that rum business of the Eyres
OF Exmoor: or, as the old women call II
down here, the Devils Ear Of Eyre? The
head of the family now, you know. Is
the Duke of Exeter; he Is one OF the Few
really stiff old Tory aristocrats left, a
sound old crusted tyrant 1t Is quite IN
our line to make trouble about. And
think I'm on the track of a story that
will make trouble.
THE reason I point 1t out to you Is
this: 1t seems to me that We make a
mistake in attacking aristocracy entirely
for its champagne and diamonds MOS
men rather admire the nobs for having
a good time; but ! think We surrender
too much when we admit that aristocracy
has made even the aristocrats happy. i
suggest a series of articles pointing out
how dreary, how inhuman, how down.
right diabolic. is the very smell and at
mosphere of some Of these great houses
There are plenty of instances; but you
couldn't begin with a better one than the
Ear of the Eyres. By the end OF the
week ! think / can get you the truth
FRANCIS FINN"
Mr.. Button reflected a moment
staring at his left boot; then he called
out in a strong, loud, and entirely life
less voice, in which every syllable
sounded alike:
Mss Barlow, take down letter tot
Mr. Finn, please. Dear Finn: l think
it would do. Copy RICH us second
post Saturday. Yours, E. Button
This elaborate epistle he srticulated
as if it were all one word, and Miss
Barlow ratified it down as if it were
all one word. Then he took up another
strip of proof and a blue pencil. and
altered the word Supernatural to the
word marvellous" and the expression
shoot down to the expression "re-
press"
In such happy, healthful activities
did Mr.. Button disport himself until
the ensuing Saturday found him at the
same desk, debating to the same typist,
and using the same blue pencil on the
first installment of Mr.. Firms revela-
tons. Though written violently, it was
in excellent English; but the editor, as
usual, had given to somebody else the
task of breaking it up into subheadings,
which were of a spicier sort, as
'Peeress and Poisons," The Eerie
Ear" The Eyres in Their Eerie,' and
20 on through a hundred happy changes.
Then followed
THE LEGEND OF THE EAR.
| was walking along a public path
which threads through a private Dew
,Eshire orchard, and seems to point
oward Devonshire cider, when / came
upon just such place as the
oath suggested 1t was a long, low
mn, consisting really of a cottage and
wo barns, matched all over with the
hatch that looks like brown and grayl
lair grown before history. But out
ide the door was a sign which called ,
t the Blue Dragon, and under the sign
vas one of those long rustic tables
hat used to stand outside most of the
rec English inns before teetotallers
md brewers, between them. destroyed
reedom. And at this table sat three
gentlemen who might have lived al
hundred years ago. II
Now that | know them all better,
here is no difficulty about disentang-
ing the impressions; but just then they
ooked like three very solid ghosts. The I