JOURNALISM IN HONOLULU.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 4221, 30 September 1874, Page 3

JOURNALISM IN HONOLULU.

(From the Melbourne Argus.) Journalists must have a rosy time of it in Honolulu. They evidently live long, and possibly die happy. Mr. 11. M. Whitney, whose name appears, according to the American fashion, immediately under the leaderheading of-the Hawaiian Gazette as that of the publisher and editor of that paper, informs its readers that, on the 24th of June last, he was " completely overwhelmed and struck dumb with astonishment." Something had occurred, the like of which had never happened before during nearly, a quarter of a century in which he'had'been connected with the Press, and'-which, in fact, could take place, he says, " but once in a lifetime." It touched him so to the quick that he felt bound to unburden his feelings to a sympathising public. Mid-summer eve, it appears, is the anniversary of ,an epoch in his domestic life; and he ahnost breaks into poetry as he dilates upon it. "On the evening of that day," he writes, "the 25th anniversary of au event that has scattered numberless joys along the path of our journey through life—as we returned home from the weekly lecture, we wero filled with amazement at', finding our, residence brilliantly lit up, and literally swarming like a • bee-hiyo. Only. : as we entered the door did we, for tho first time, realise that we ■ had been made the victim of a stupendous ' surprise.' Not only did bright eyes, happy faces, and cheerful voices' meet us at every turn, but beautiful presents were displayed, and a table was spread, as with a magician's wand, with all that the most dainty could ask for." Not only did the employes of tho Qazettc office contribute their silver offer-' ings, but nine young ladies of "Mrs. W.'s Sunday school class" clubbed their pocket money to purchase a pitcher for the joy-scat,-terer of the Whitney household. But there is one drop of bitterness in what Dr.. Johnson would call the exuberating chalice Of the journalist's felicity. Nothing could be more gratifying than this demonstration of affection to Henry M. Whitney as a man ; but alas ! it reflects upon his vigilance and omniscience as an editor. Ho is amazed and mortified, by the reflection that no whisper of the impending event "reached our ears, ever ready to glean every passing item of news." He penitently confesses that for once he was " caught napping." To paraphrase a liue from the " Critic," The husband soften'tl, but the editor Was "fixed." :