EDITOR'S 
NOW FOR A MILLION. 
An editor’s life is not all grief. It does 
not consist wholly of roasting people and 
Leing roasted. Occasionally someone comes 
in and asks an editor out to have a smile. 
Then again he sometimes gets a smile at 
his own desk. Here is one that came in the 
mail a few days ago: 
Atlanta, Ga. 
RECREATION, Magazine, 
23 West 24th St, New York, N. Y. 
Mr. G. O. Shields, Gen’] Mgr. and Editor. 
Dear Sir, 
1 would like to write you a few lines in- 
forming you That i would like to write a 
Poem each month for your Magazine and 
let it go under the name as Poem’s from a 
Southern Author from Way Down South. 
as I have composed a emense of Ghost 
Storys and Fairy Tales as 1 have never seen 
any such Story’s of the Ye Olden Time 
writen in a Magazine yet and would say 
that i can make it interesting in your 
Magazine for your reders I want to write 
for you the year round funny stories and 
Ghost Poems of the Ye Olden Times, i 
can write stories very comical and can 
make any body laugh their self to death, 
i will write reasonable monthly or yearly. 
So not asi think that i can improve your 
Magazine in Editorals but i can gurantte 
that your readers will hunt for my stories 
every time. so give me a chance, i will 
write you a sample copy of my Southern 
pomes writen From a Southern Dramatic 
Author, i will send sample copy and my 
price by request by you by Return Mail. 
Yours very truly, 
Dramatic Ghost Story Author. 
I think I shall buy some of these poems 
and print them. I dislike to imagine a lot 
of my readers laughing themselves to 
death; but think of the gain to me! Let 
it be announced that a man in the Waldorf 
Castoria had died laughing at something 
he read in RecreEATION. In a minute all 
the other people in the house would fall 
over the corpse in a struggle to get to the 
news stand; and so it would be everywhere. 
I expect to see my circulation go up to a 
million within 2 days after the appearance 
of the first one of these ghost story poems. 



A BROTHER EDITOR APPROVES. 
IT am not fond of reprinting good things 
which brother writers may say of me, but I 
trust I may be pardoned for making a quo- 
tation from a recent issue of the Worcester, 
Mass., Gazette. The editor of that journal 
devotes a column to an ostensible defense 
of S. E. Hanson, of that city, whom I 
73 
CORNER. 
roasted some months ago for having caught 
300 pounds of fish in one day. In the 
course of his soothing remarks on behalf 
of the wounded Swede, the editor pays me 
a compliment that I can not forego the 
privilege of printing, not only for the satis- 
faction of my friends, but for the further 
stirring up of some other game and fish 
hogs who are busy telling their friends 
that nothing good can come out of REcRE- 
ATION Office. 
The Gazette man, in speaking of Han- 
son’s fishing exploit, says: 
RECREATION is always lying in wait 
for things of this kind, and’ has a man 
in this city who informs the publisher 
of such cases as are deemed breaches of 
good breeding on the part of sportsmen. 
Mr. Shields, the editor and publisher, 
makes no bones of calling men hard 
names when they take an inordinate 
number of fish or kill more game than 
they can make use of. “Game hog” and 
“pot hunter” are among the terms which 
Mr. Shields marshals in a rhetoric so 
fiery that it is sufficient to scald the 
rivets off a steam boiler, to say nothing 
of starting the hirsute covering of his 
so-called “game hog.” : 

A JUSTICE GUILTY. 
Deputy Game Warden Phillips, of Du- 
luth, Minn., wen* hunting in the Bowstring 
country last summer and found in one 
shack 30 sacks of deer and moose hair 
weighing altogether more than a ton. He 
also found 9 tanned.deer skins and a half 
mounted head. He failed to find the 
wretches who killed the game, but it is 
hoped they may be apprehended later. The 
hair was burned and the hides confiscated. 
On another trip, Phillips discovered, in 
the vicinity of Jessie lake, 50 miles North 
of Duluth, a lot of deer hides, deer heads 
and fresh venison. These were stored in 
and about the homes of W. S. Brown, a 
justice of the peace; Samuel Targenson, a 
constable; and John McDougall, chairman 
of the town board. These men were ar- 
rested, jacked up before a real justice, 
and the so called Justice Brown was fined 
$50. The constable and the chairman of 
the town board were also found guilty, but 
for some reason their fines were remitted. 
It seems that Robert Christie, the town- 
ship treasurer, is a member of this band of 
law breakers, but it was impossible to get 
sufficient evidence against him at the time 
to convict him. 
Brown’s name goes down in the game 
hog register as No. 942, Targenson’s as 
943, and McDougall’s as 944. Christie 
