AN EDITOR’S LOT.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume X, Issue 1120, 11 August 1882, Page 4

AN EDITOR’S LOT.

Thebe is one editor in this world who has achieved the feat of running a newspaper to suit everybody. Occasionally, to be sure, he has complaints, but he never fails to satisfy the com?lainers that they were in the wrong. t wasn’t always so with him. He only adopted the system after he got desperate. It was one day after he had received seven complaints that he tried it. A man came in and said :— “ Why in Tophet didn’t you print the whole of the proceedings of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Pigs, instead of a brief extract ?” The editor replied —Oh, you made a a speech that wasn't in the report, eh r” Then he went round the counter. The dust flew for a few moments, and then it became more quiet. The editor relaxed his grip on the man’s throat sufficiently to let him speak, and he said that he thought that the article was all right, and he had only come to renew his subscription. He was let go, paid the money and left, and as he went out he collided with a man who had an ugly glare in his eyes, and dancing up to the editor ■aid “ What d’ye mean sir ? I pay for a sensible paper, and here I get a lot of stuff about cruelty to pigs. You ought to be put in gaol for printing such rot.” The editor went round the counter again, and again the dust flew and cries of “ take your teeth from my ear 1” “ Let go my hair I" &c., were heard. It was full five minutes before the editor could get the man's coat torn off and put him on the floor with his head m the scuttle. But he did it at last. Then he jumped high in the air and sat down upon the man’s stomach, and the yell the man gave echoing in the coal scuttle, sounded awfully. The editor was about to repeat the operation, but the man said “We needn’t prolong this agony. Your paper is the best in the World. It is all right. I’ll take it for ten years in advance." Eight more visitors had the same experience. Then came one the editor couldn't thrash. It was a woman. ‘‘What dv'e mean by publishing fashion articles from a three-year-old magazine?" she asked. “ I made a bonnet according to your directions, and its three years behind the style. Oh, you wretch I You mean, horrid, insign-ificant—oh-h !" “My dear Madam he said, “ you are right. I'm not fit to edit a paper. I’ll stop at once.” (To the reporter). “ John don't send up any more copy. Stop that article saying this lady was the belle of the ball last night.’’ “ Stop !” she cried. “ Yonr paper is a household treasure. I don’t care about the bonnet, and came to ask you to our house to tea to-night.” Everybody now leaves satisfied with bis paper.