Year: 1875

Der of that paper. The non-appearance of the Whig on these two Saturdays is. what I have set out to explain. My amt was tall, bright-eyed, broad shouhzered lady of forty-fye or there abouts. She was a hearty hater of mean ness, and merciless contemner of shams and quacks. She was bountiful to the poor. especially the dlsreputable poor, against whom all other hands were closed. Her position as lady of wealth and in- fuence enabled her to, indulge in some ec- centricities and disregard some conven- tionalities Wherever she went with her long, rapid, elastic steps, she carried with her a breezy atmosphere of good sense and good feeling. She was the most mag

 netic person ever saw. It was impossl-

 ble to be in her company without being influenced by her strong, healthy, and slightly whimsical nature. She was an unsuitable reader of the English classics, and of such modern English literature as is destined to become classic. LocOfocO- vile was intensely democratic, and my amt was the staunchest of wings. Never theless she was so popular there as to be regarded in the light of a cherished insti- tuition rather than favored individual. She was childless widow, and was by far the richest person in the neighborhood. She lived in a curious, rambling house, 1 or collection of houses, built by her to take the place of former residence which had been burned down. This villa was

 built of stone and rooted with sheet iron, and was as nearly ire-proof as the build ing facilities of Locofocoville would per init. The main buildings. four in number,

 were two stories high, and arranged about | a three-story tower. The main entrance was through the tower. In the centre of the tower was a grand circular stairway. All the rooms were spacious and lofty, those in the second stories of the main buildings and that in the third story of the tower being vaulted This mansion stood. and still stands, about a mile from the village, in the middle of a large farm.

 "My dear Tom" said my aunt, 'I can endure as much of my own society as most people but do sometimes get little lonely. Ton must come and stay with me. It will be deed of charity. There IS a fair library here, and you can have selected the third story of the tower, partly because it commanded a fine pros pect in every direction, and partly be- cause I thought should be less liable to be disturbed there than elsewhere. In the latter particular was disappointed. The tower communicated, either immedi- ately or by means of a short passage, with every room in the house it being a cardi- nal principle in my aunt's theory of house building that one should never be com pelled to pass through one apartment to reach another. This arrangement. added by the grand stairway in the middle of the tower, made my room a gathering place for all the noises in the house. One who. has never occupied room so situated cannot readily imagine what a perfect whispering gallery it is. remained true to my first choice, however, partly because did not like to lose any of the prospects commanded by my windows, but mainly because did not like to confess that I had made a foolish selection; !; still less, that I had been an involuntary listener to nearly every word that had been spoken in the house while I. was in the room.

 Independently of my anntss liberal pas than had anticipated. The village al- ready had a democratic paper. This or gan of public sentiment complimented the typographical get-up of my first issue. but deplored its politics; wished the new conner success, but could not predict as much. After that my neighbor pitched into me in the approved swash-buckler style of newspaper controversy in those days. Having learned that my paper was largely patronized by Mrs. Henderson, he was never tired of calling me the nephew of my aunt. I drew the sting of this nick name, find on reference to my files, by the following somewhat turgid paragraph:

 ''The Herald" Chat was the name of the rival print) ''having learned that this paper is much indebted to the iberality of Mrs. Henderson, and that we are rela- ted to that lady, took occasion in a recent issue to call us 'the worthy nephew of his aunt We esteem this high compliment and neat witticism. We are grateful to our neighbor both for his civility and for his wit, qualities rare enough to deserve favorable mention whenever they appear" Further than that, I took notice of no attacks that were made upon my paper, but pursued the journalistic path marked out by my aunt's letter. The Herald and other democratic newspapers there-about soon tired of berating paper which could ance, even by way of retort. The editor of the Herald was good fellow. He and I soon became warm friends. Many of the persons to whom my aunt caused cop. ies of my paper to be sent became sub scribers on their own account. As long as she lived my aunt kept her list full, and she took measures, as will presently be seen, to have similar list kept full after her death so long as should be a news paper publisher. This continued gratui- tous distribution of thousand extra cop ies of the Whig, while it added apprecia- bly, to my paper bills and press work, proved an unequalled advertisement. Since my aunt's death I have continued to SOW broadcast thousand extra copies of my paper every week, for a reason which will soon appear, and have reaped a satisfactory harvest of patronage. My advertising business has been quite as much enlarged in this way as my sales of papers. My systematic abstinence from newspaper warfare has probably caused small class of readers to reject the Whig as an inslpid affair. ,Butits has met the approbation of . larger and better class. to whom a country publisher must look for his permanent supporters. In short, have good reason to be satisfied with my own mode of publishing rural newspa- | per, and i take this occasion to acknowl- | edge that I probably should have come | far short of striking out so successful

 line of tactics for myself if left to my own devices. am quite clear that my aunts | good advice was of more value to me, as

 publisher. than her great iberaity.

 "

 One evening late. in July, the second

 summer following the establishment of my printing office, I carried up to my room in my aunts house big bundle of exchang- es, and went to work upon my weekly news article.

 I was and am still in the habit of be-

 slowing much labor upon that article. I

 try not only to collate complete synop-

 sis of current events, but to weave into it

 such original reflections, grave and gay,as

 are worthy top be- Jprintsa It req6ires

 more tact and judgment, and far more la-

 bor, thap ordinary rsaders would suppose,

 to prepare such an article. The several

 items of news n theg come to hand have

 to be epitomized n sepnrate slins of pa-

 per. and sort dl reportorial perspective

 has to be observed, by which events are | given prominence and space in proportion