HE WAS INCENSED.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 3697, 21 May 1883, Page 4

HE WAS INCENSED.

"What do you mean by this?"' cried the obituary editor, rushing into the proofreader's room and throwing down a copy of the evening's paper. "What's the matter now r" asked the head of the proof-reading department, looking over his spectacles. "You've ruined the whole business," cried the editor, pointing to one of the editorials. "There! sec it! A perfect masterpiece of obituary writing. Took me a day to look up the points, and then you must come in and wreck the whole article."

"But why don't you read your proofs I- , " "That's just it. Ido read 'in, and the more carefully I correct 'em the more fiendish become your mistakes. It was only yesterday that "yon made me say that a celebrated French philosopher died in the full possession of his facetiousness instead of faculties. It ruined the whole article of course. Then when that other big gun died out West last week, and I went to the trouble of writing , a column and α-half on it, Avhat did you do? Why, when I Avrotc 'the purity of his mind,' you just run in your patent improvement and made mo say 'the putridity of his mind.' It's avcll the man was dead, for if he'd been alive my life to-day wouldn't be worth five cents." '' But you write such a beastly hand,'' cried tho head proof-reader. "It's a make any sense out of your articles. Why didn't you go to a good writing school ?" " 1 write as plain a hand as anyone in tho oflicc," cried the editor, dancing about and bringing his clenchedbatiddowiiuponadesk. If I wrote like Horace Greely it wouldn't be any excuse for your making me say of one of the meekest and mildest men England ever produced, 'hismaniacal qualities impressed all his friends most forcibly.' Such mistakes, sir, are conducive to murder, sir. Yes, sir, cold, premeditated murder. Look at that paper. Cast your eyes over that editorial —a, piece of journalistic Avork any scholar could father, and when one feels he has done a. good thing, Avhcre do you land him'r In Hades, sir. Yes, sir, in Hades. He strikes something liko this. It's a fair sample. Read it." " F don't sec anything Avrong about it," said the proof-reader, glancing over the editorial.

" Nothing wrong !" shouted the editor ._ " Here I've drawn an analytical picture of the famous man's mind, made him out one of the beacon lights of his age, and then you suddenly make me turn a- back somersault in this fashion : 'The famous scholar was the greatest pugilist of his college.' For heaven's sake, sir, can't you tell purist from pugilist'r" and the editor rushed out into the" street and indulged in a brisk Avalk to cool oil.