THE HUMOURIST. EDITOR BAGSHOT’S ASSISTANT.

Marlborough Daily Times, Volume II, Issue 166, 22 October 1880, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE HUMOURIST. EDITOR BAGSHOT’S ASSISTANT.

Colonel Bagshot runs a weekly newspaper called the ‘ Union,’ up in Choduuk. Recently the colonel was called away to New York on business, leaving the ‘ Union’ in the hands of au assistant who had been in his employ some little time. Now, the colonel knew that the said assistant had the cheek of a brass statue, and the audacity of a New England fly, both indispensable attributes of the newspaper man ; but still, after being in the city about a week, be began to grow uneasy, and telegraphed to Gbodunk : ‘ How’s things ?’ Back came the answer from the ‘ Union’s’ wliilom editor : •

‘ Capital! Circulation of the old thing’s gone up a thousand. Been getting up a redhot paper, aud there’s a gang outside that are weeping because they can’t hoist the shingles off the roof and knock tile whole concern to thunder. .Stay away as long its you like. ’ Bagshot didn’t waste a moment after receiving this encouraging despatch. He started home iu the first train and reached Choduuk before night. The first mail that struck him was the ticket agent. ‘ Look hero, colonel!’ he cried, excitedly ; ‘l’ve a darned good notion to punch your head, you brazen-faced old liar.’ ‘ Why?’ asked Bagshot. ‘ Read that !’ and the ticket agent shoved a crumpled ‘ Union’ into bis hand; There was a paragraph marked as follows :

‘ ILvii.i.'uAu News.—The bandy-legged idiot, who robs the Railroad Company at this village, has purchased a now pocket knife. More knocking down from the cash drawer. ’ Bagshot bit his lip. ‘Bill,’ said lie, ‘that’s a calumny, and I’ll sec it righted iu our next. It’s my confounded assistant’s work.’ ‘1 don’t care whose work it is,’growled the a icnt, ‘ but if it ain’t contradicted somebody’s got to die; that’s all.’ Bagshot didn’t reply, but sailed down the street to the ‘ Union’ oliice. He bad not gone half a block before be collided with Deacon Marsh. The deacon siezod him by the shoulder aud exclaimed : ‘ What do you mean, Bagshot, by inserting that scandalously untrue item about me ? ’

‘ Didn't insert any item,’ replied the colonel.

‘ Don’t sneak out of it in that way. You know you did. Why, I just cut it out of the ‘ Union,’ —listen :

‘ * IlKuoiurs In'tki.i,!i:kn'C'|.:. That whited sepulchre, Deacon Marsh, was noticed last .Saturday night trying to open the coal hole in front of his residence with his night key. The deacon was full as a goat, and couldn’t tell moonshine from green cheese.’ • Now that’s nice, ain’t it, .saying that 1 was intoxicated on Saturday night, when L went to bed at seven with a raging toothache. ’ ‘ It’s that reckless fool whom I left in charge,’groaned the colonel. ‘ I’ll make it all right, Marsh,’ and Bagshot scurried on again, only to be confronted by Major Blim.

‘Colonel,’ muttered Blim in bis deepest voice, ‘ this is villainous. It’s my intention, sir, to call you out and shoot you through the heart. What the douce do you mean by publishing the note in the ‘ Union ?

1 ‘Mi utau v J orrises. —Major Blim, the tattered old beggar who hid iu an oyster barrel during the battle of Bulls Run, wears a wig, he ought to be shot in the back with a baked apple. ’ ’ ‘I can’t help it, Blim,’ said Bagshot, wiping his forehead ; ‘ it’s all owing to that young devil in the office. Delias made a red-hot paper. Just wait, Major, and 111 fir; things.’ Then Bagshot started again. By the Post-office, old Parker grabbed him.

‘ Ob, you unfeeling ghoul !’ wailed Parker, ‘ you ought to be rode on a. rail. The idea of making fun of my poor dead child !’ ‘ How ?’ ‘ How ' Have you the cheek to ask how ? Maybe you didn't shove this into the ‘ Union, ’ did you, you heartless hypocrite : ‘ ‘ omrrAKV. 1 Little Beunic Parker Had a stomach pain, Rhubarb and ipecac Both were in vain, He kicked the golden bucket, 1 Lis parents’ hearts are sore ; They’ll bury him to-morrow, At a quarter of four.” Of course Bagshot had to explain, and promised the bereaved father a two-column notice of the dead Bennie’s many virtues. Hardly had he done so before young Cooley appeared. ‘Colonel Bagshot,’ announced he, ‘you’re a lying scoundrel. This is a nice thing to put in your blackguard sheet about a young lady. ’ ‘ ‘ Society Items. • —M iss Cooley, the old hag on South-street, waltzes around in a patent bustle in the hope of catching a fellow. But she can’t —not even if she lays the paint on twice as thick as she doe 3 now.” But Bagshot didn’t stop to hear it. He How across the square and into the ‘ Union ’ office like a flash. No one was there. That able assistant editoi. warned by friends unknown, had dusted for ever. Lying on the desk was a ‘Union’ folded so that this notice caught Bagshot’s eyes : ‘Literary Meins.—The bald headed snip who pretends to run this paper has gone to New York. We expect to hear every moment of his sentence to Sing Sing for arson and highway robbery. The citizens of Chodunk should congratulate themselves if the Colonel does not disgrace his village by being hung for infanticide !’ Bagshot never intends to employ another assistant editor, and journalists in search of a situation will find it healthy to keep away from him.