^YllAT HO ! THE CONFLAGRATION 



" Perhaps you are right ; at all events, you must 

 not punish me for printers' errors." I don't know 

 what induced me to say such a rotten, stupid thing, 

 but I presume he had posed long enough, and we 

 parted quite friendly. He did not withdraw his 

 patronage, as he at first threatened, and I felt a 

 load lifted from my shoulders as I stepped into the 

 street. 



My paper was supposed to come out weekly, but it 

 didn't — in fact, there was no regular publishing date. 

 We did not see the Scotsman for a few days after the 

 first publishing day. His wife told me he had a bilious 

 attack, but I discovered him in a little roadside house 

 about ten miles out of the town one day with a glass 

 of whisky in his hand and singing " Annie Laurie." 

 I soon gauged the situation, filled him right up, made 

 him recite verses of Bobby Burns, got him into my 

 buggy and gave his wife five shillings to dose him 

 with tea. The amiable Quilp was a very sober man, 

 and was scandalised at his partner's behaviour ; but 

 I heard subsequently that it was a common occurrence 

 with the latter when a pound or two " ready " came in. 

 I do not know whether it was Quilp or the Scotsman, 

 but one evening after the fifth number was out — about 

 eleven weeks after the first had been issued — I was 

 riding home about eleven o'clock in the evening when 

 I saw the local fire engine being hurried along, and there 

 was a glare in the sky. I pulled up my horse, having 

 soon located the place. The corrugated iron had 

 fallen in, the long primer, the minion, the ruby and 

 the file of my newspaper were " pied " and fused 

 beyond recognition. They were not insured : neither 

 was I. 



Thus ended my first lesson in running something 

 of my own. Do I bore you ? I hope not, as it was an 



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