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A SCENE IN AN EDITOR'S SANCTUM.

A week or two ago one of our reporters had occasion to refer to a certain woman, whom : we will call Hannah Smit a, as a denizen of the Eleventh Ward. A day or two afterwards a huge man entered the office with his brow clothed with thunder. In his hand he carried a fearful club, and at his side trotted a bulldog whom hunger evidently had made desperate. With that quick appreciation of the situation which is creditable to the superior intelligence of educated men, the editor of this paper and the proprietors darted to the window, climbed outside, slid down the lightning rod, and went across the street to watch the bloody fray through a spy glass. With the fearlessness of conscious innocence we sat still, merely inserting our legs in two sections of stovepipe, to guard against misapprehension of facts on the part of the bulldog. The man with the club approached. "Are you the editor?" he. asked, spitting oil his hand and grasping his club.

We told him that the editor was out; that he had gone to the North Pole with Captain Hall, and that he would not return before 1876, in time for the centennial celebration. "Are you the proprietor?" asked the man.

We explained to him that we' were, not; that the proprietors were,-:also out; that they had gone to South America for the purpose of investigating the curative powers of cundurango; nnd they expected to remain there for several years. " Well, whoever you are," exclaimed the warrior, "my name is Smith !"

We told him we were glad; because, if there was one thing better than the possession of the name of Smith it was the privilege of knowing a man of that name.

'• But Smith," we said, " why this battle array ? It is absurd for a man to put; on the'panoply of'war-and frisk into editors' sanctums fumbling a club and accompanied by a disheartening

bull-dog, simply beer,use .i 8 name happens to be Smith." He--said he calle<! in to burst the head of the man who had insulted his sister. "It is impossible, Smith, that such a thing could have been done by any one in this office." " Is it ? but it was, though ; and her name was published too—Miss Smith —Miss Hanaer Smith." " May we be permitted to inquire, Mr. Smith, what was the precise character of the affront offered to Hannah ?"

"Well, you see," said Smith, "the blackguard said she was a denizen. And I want you to understand," exclaimed Smith, becoming excited, and brandishing his club in an excited manner over our head, while the bulldog advanced and commenced to sniff up and down our stovepipe, " I want you to understand that she is a decent young woman, with a good character, and none of your denizens and such truck. The man who says she is a denizen is a blackguard and thief, and I'll smash him over the nose if I get a chance. They may say what they please about me, but the man who abuses my sister has got to suffer." And Smith struck the table in a violent manner wi|fch his club, while the bulldog put his fore legs on the back of our jhair.

"We pacified Smith, with, a dictionary. We pointed out to that raging warrior that the "Websterian definition of the word " denizen " gives such a person an unoffending character,' and deprives the term of anything like reproach. Smith said that he was satisfied, and he shook, hands and kicked the bulldog down stairs. The editor and proprietors, seeing that all was safe, immediately climbed the lightning rod, and soon appeared at the window, where they were introduced to Smith, with the remark that they had returned from the North Pole and the clime of the cundurango somewhat unexpectedly, in order to surprise their relations. And now we suppose Smith will be mad because we have told this story about him, and he will be coming down to interview us again in war's magnificent stern array, with a fresh bull dog. But it will be in vain. "We have rented an office in the top of the shot tower, and have planted torpedoes and spring guns all the way up the stairs. W warn this incendiary Smith to beware.

Permanent link to this item
Hononga pūmau ki tēnei tūemi

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/MIC18720503.2.6

Bibliographic details
Ngā taipitopito pukapuka

Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume III, Issue 165, 3 May 1872, Page 3

Word count
Tapeke kupu
723

A SCENE IN AN EDITOR'S SANCTUM. Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume III, Issue 165, 3 May 1872, Page 3

A SCENE IN AN EDITOR'S SANCTUM. Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume III, Issue 165, 3 May 1872, Page 3

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