WANTED-A TALKING EDITOR. [From the Toronto Herald.]

New Zealander, Volume 3, Issue 149, 3 November 1847, Page 3

WANTED- A TALKING EDITOR. [From the Toronto Herald.]

To want a writing editor is no uncommon waitf ; a fighting editor— .'.hat is, an editor who would undertake to do the lighting of the establishment — we have known to be sometimes called into requisition ; but our want is rather <x jiovel one.— We want a. talking editor — an editor w^ij?, during the office hours, which are not strictly on the ten hour system, will do our talking. Bury us, ye powers, who preside over our editorial destiny ! bury us in worthless exchanges : cause the mail to, fail for a week in succession ; shut out from our minds the shadow of an idea for an article ; let us be abused by our contemporaries— cheated by our subscribers— hoaxed by correspondents; let these and all other editorial ills befal us, but spare vi the pain, the racking torture of having ; to hold a conversation with every one who comes and asks us questions— questions, many of which unless possessed of clairvoyant powers we could not answer. Why 'tis a species of punishment, compared .to which the rigours of our criminal code are comparative pleasure. The following i« something like a daily record of the miseries we have to endure in this behalf, with this difference, that we dispose of 1 the imaginary dialogues much more summarily than the actual colloquies are terminated. We haye — the reader will please to suppose— got through reading the morning papers — have " dug into" our exchanges to some extent — are in the most amiable humour, our usual mood,' with oursdf and the world — and have got the outline of an article in our mind's eye, which we flatter ourselves we can mould into decent shape —when No. 1 just drops in. He is an iron-faced, narrow. shouldered little man, in a bright white neckerchief, a wbitey-brown hat, with green' umbrella in hand, and spectacles on note. He takes an arm-chair opposite to us, takes off his hat, which he places on the table before us, passei a coloured snuffy silk handkerchief over bis forehead, and bids us " Good morning." We reciprocate without any effort at all to show the Chesterfield. [ Green Umbrella. — •• I have just dropt in, sir t hearing you hate got a specimen of General Taylors Chirography here — indeed I t may 6ay 1 have a passion for these things. — Virtu, sir, is the shrine at which I worship." We — ♦' You will see, sir." Green Umbrella—" Ah, thank you — much obliged to you. Do you know, t>ir, a nvin't hand, writing, to me, is alwajsau index of his mind* I'll be bound, sir, that General Taylors is——.' We — " Below in the publication oilice, sir, subject to your inspection." Gieen Umbrella— " Ah, sir, you are exceedingly kind. Sir, it is in my power to show you some rare— some valuable autographs." Puts liih hand into his pocket — compositor comes in — "Matter prepared for the outer form yet i" We— "in a moment." To green umbtella — "Sir, you will excuse us ; but at the present moment we are compelled to deprive ourselves of the pleasure of viewing )our autographs of distinguished characters To " Green Umbrella (putting them up, in somewhat of passion) — " Su, 1 regret to say that the perverted spirit of the age does not appreciate such invaluable inomenlos ol the great among the past, and the good among the piesent. 1 wish you a very good morning, sir," — ajiU whipping up his green umbielia, and slapping his white) 1 brown hat down on his lorebeau", hesuddenly luaviib. We of com so said, as he left, " Good morning." We set-to, to prepare, the "outside matter" for the compositor, who stands before us like, an up-, braiding spirit, to lemind us of our sins of omission ; we hand it to him, and • are about to diop our idea into the nlembic of our mind for distillation, when an outre daudy, dressed in Fushion's latest and most ultra mode— one of whom, if beard betokened bravery, is a very C«SH.r— makes his appearance with a niobt insinuating " Good morning I Aw— ah," he continues, "do you weceive tlie Lun'un papawsf" ■"'"" A lew-i-here are the Tunes, Lhronic^ and Syectalor,"

"Aw-a! vewy good papaw the Times— vewy good Tor the man thai deals in slocks, or sells sugaw 01 molasses. We don't patwonise the Times. Don't you weceive the Cwart Journal— the " Don't receive it, sir." "Sowey to trouble jou— good morning." "A very good morning, sir." No. 3, is a lady, of middle age, in a semi-mourn-ing suit, a dark crape bonnet, with an open, tinshutable fan in her hand, and owning a remark, able sht ill-toned treble voice. j " Editor of the paper, sir !"' 44 Yes, madam* — take a seat." "Oh sir, I have not patience to sit,l nor to stand, or to sleep. Can you tell me where my William is? I have not heard of my poor child since he left" — «' Oh, compose yourself, madam," said wej " his nuise is of course with him, and the will doubtless take care of him." " Nurse ! sir ! nurse ! 1 suppose you mean to insult me by insinuating that he eloped with that ugly old deco), the widow Jones. No, sir; he had a spirit above that. He has gone, sir, to light, as his father did before him : yes, sir, as my dear deceased husband William Melville, did ; he is gone, sir, to tight the enemies of hit country ; and 1 could not have imagined, sir, that any gentlemen in his ow n office, from whom no* thing more was asked than a little information, would gratuitously wound the maternal sensibilities of alone widow lady, as 3011 have done, by speaking of a nurse in connection with my son, who took the right of his company, and is twenty two years of age." " Oh well, madam," we said, *• I suppose it's light ; I did not, I assure you, mean to offer you any offence. 1 was led into the error bv your applying the very juvenile term 'child* to your sou. I now, however, understand he is with the army Do \ou know his regiment?" "No.* " His company ?" "No." "Then, madam, 'tis impossible for me to tell you where he is." "So, sir, you undertake to edit a paper, and •annot tell me where my dear William is f Mr. Crount was right when he said that editors aie the most ignorant individuals of whom surety is composed." Exit Mis. Widow MelvVile. \ But we cannot, in the spac,«a "we have, go thiough with the ordinary editorial talking* of a morning. A genius comes, in, and for a full hour occupies our time iiwtfxplaining the mechanism of a model of tf«3 improved patent snag exterminator. — A quack doctor, who informs us that he has just paid twenty dollars in the publication office for an advertisement of his medicines, contends, therefore, that we may conscientiously puff his patent, health restoring, liver-regenerating pills, and say that we experienced great advantage fiom them. John Jones, who is, as be assures us, a respectable grocer, threatens us with an action for damages for stating that be bad been " sent down" for thirty da)s, when he was never before a court in his life A mulatto woman asks us to tell her where a nurse is wanted with a fresh breast of milk. But enough : our evils in this behalf are intolerable. Who will do our editorial talking?