1831.] [ 169 ] 



THE NEWSPAPER OFFICE I A DRAMATIC SKETCH FROM LIFE. 



SCENE I. The Strand. Editors Public Room. 



EDITOR,, solus. HALF past nine o'clock and the post not yet come in ! 

 Really, we must not think of venturing to press with our present scanty 

 show of advertisements ; it is as bad as launching into life, like the late 

 Mr. Perry, with eighteen-pence, a wife and three children. I know 

 not how it is, but our front columns seem visited with absolute sterility. 

 In most cases advertisements have a tendency to self-multiplication ; 

 one, it is said, brings another as surely as the first of the month an- 

 nounces a dull article in the Evangelical Magazine ; but in our case they 

 are like mules, incapable of propagating their kind. As if this were not 

 sufficient vexation, the office is thronged from morning 'till night with 

 visitors. First comes a retail trader in accidents with a few small pedlar 

 wares, such as a " calamitous fire/' a " daring burglary," or a " diabolical 

 murder ;" then a reporter to the Law Courts, superior certainly in intel- 

 ligence to his predecessor, but who might nevertheless be shot into the' 

 Thames without subjecting himself to a penalty for setting it on fire : 

 then some hungry member of the Opposition in whose beseeching coun- 

 tenance may be read in large characters, " Wanted : a Place ;" then 

 some pamphleteer, critic, or novelist, lean and irritable enough for an 

 epic poet ; and lastly, by way of wind-up, some extensive Hibernian 

 adventurer, who in the extremity of impudence and desperation has 

 advertised for a loan a wife an agency or a clerkship, and referred 

 for particulars to this office. My room-door meanwhile is eternally on 

 the swing, an illustration of perpetual motion. It was once intended to 

 shut, but this operation, like the Egyptian process of embalming, has 

 long since fallen into, disuse. ( Enter Office-Boy with letters, fyc. ) Oh, 

 here comes the post. Pray heaven it sends us good news! (Editor opens 

 a letter and reads. ) " Milsom-street, Bath, July 31st : Sir, be pleased to 

 insert the inclosed advertisements in your paper of to-morrow and apply 

 for payment to Messrs. Barker & Co. Fleet-street, who are duly au- 

 thorized to settle with you. Your humble servant, Samuel Nosebag, 

 auctioneer and appraiser." A very eloquent epistle. The subject and 

 the style are in beautiful accordance with each other. Junius himself 

 never wrote more to the point. (Opens another letter and reads.} 

 " Bolton, July 28th : Mr. Editor, Sir, we are all in commotion here, for 

 His Grace the Duke of Wellington has just arrived at the Cock and 

 Tooth-pick. His Grace looks remarkably well, and is dressed in pepper- 

 and-salt trowsers rather out at the knees ; blue frock-coat with a small 

 hole in the elbow ; shoes, gaiters, and a black military travelling-cap. 

 Immediately on alighting, he rang the bell for the waiter, and with 

 singular affability called for a glass of brandy and water, cold and 

 without sugar. I have only just time to add that the town bells are all 

 ringing, that a vast crowd is collected, and that the mayor and corpor- 

 ation are hastening in procession with a congratulatory address to His 

 Grace. It is evident from this that some change in the ministry is at 

 hand. P. S. Four o'clock. The post is just going out and barely gives 

 me time to add that we are all mistaken in our conjectures. The strange 

 visitor is no duke but a French conjuror, who has but this moment ad- 

 vertised his intention of swallowing a bolster and standing with his 

 heels upwards on a punch-bowl. The mayor is in fits at the mistake and 



M. M. New Series. Vol.. XI. No. 62. Z 



