230 ON AND OFJ^ THE TURP. 



Mr. Jolin F. Sheridan, ''Widow O'Brien/^ was 

 and still is a friend of mine. I have met him in the 

 West of New South Wales, and as near to London as 

 Sandown Park. When I was editing the Daily Times in 

 Bathurst, Mr. Sheridan came along with his company. 

 They opened at the School of Arts, in Dorothy. Next 

 morning in came Sheridan to my office followed by his 

 big black retriever dog. 



" Gcing to give us a notice ?'' says Sheridan. 



"If Fve got time/^ I replied. "Better write one 

 yourself, John. At any rate, draw out the plot.^' 



I may mention that every editor cf a country 

 newspaper likes to get a helping hand when he 

 can. 



Sheridan sat dowh and tied his dog to the leg of 

 the chair he sat upon. 



" The Widder '' seized copy paper, flourished a 

 pen, and dived into the plot of " Dorothy.^' 



He had been writing for about a quarter of an 

 hour when no less a personage than the Bishop of 

 Batburst, Dr. Camidge, a learned, clever man, and 

 as popular a citizen as ever resided there, walked in. 

 He had a fox terrier at his heels. 



I entered into conversation with his lordship, and 

 his lordship's dog entered into conversation with 

 Sheridan's dog. 



The Bishop opened the door, bade us good morn- 

 ing, and Sheridan politely rose. 



