More Toasts Part 143

It stood on tiptoe, eyes aglow, It stared, and turned to whisper low Of wonders such as seldom pa.s.s That way. What swayed the living ma.s.s?

What marvel from the fabled isles That drew the eye from Paris styles?

A street car left the track perhaps?

Two bootblacks nabbed for shooting c.r.a.ps?

A fire to call the engines out?

A skidding auto turned about?

A homebrew Bacchus' raisin dance?

At these perhaps the crowd would glance But never act like this at all.

Amazed, I asked a copper tall And broad, and heard at last; A horse and buggy just went past.

--_Roland D. Johnson_.

An English novelist took his first look at Broadway aflame with light. He read the flas.h.i.+ng and leaping signs and said: "How much more wonderful it would be for a man who couldn't read."

UNCLE EZRA--"Eph Hoskins must have had some time down in New York."

UNCLE EBEN--"Yep. Reckon he traveled a mighty swift pace. Eph's wife said that when Eph got back and went into his room he looked at the bed, kicked it, and said, 'What's that darn thing for?"--_Judge_.

After Mark Twain had been in New York for five years, he wrote to his folks back home that he was the loneliest man in the world!

"What!" exclaimed his people, "in New York _and lonely_!"

"Yes," wrote Mark; "I'm the only man in this town that doesn't touch a drop."

TEACHER--"Do you know the population of New York?"

MAMIE BACKROW--"Not all of them, ma'am, but then, we've only lived here two years."--_Puck_.

NEWSBOYS

NEWSBOY--"Great mystery! Fifty victims! Paper, mister?"

Pa.s.sER-BY--"Here, boy, I'll take one." (After reading a moment.) "Say, boy, there's nothing of the kind in this paper. Where is it?"

NEWSBOY--"That's the mystery, guvnor. You're the fifty-first victim."

NEWSPAPERS

APPLICANT--"I'm ready to begin at the bottom, sir."

NEWSPAPER PROPRIETOR--"Well, what's your idea?"

"To start first with the leading editorials and gradually work myself up to the sporting page."

"Never state as a fact anything you are not certain about," the great editor warned the new reporter, "or you will get us into libel suits. In such cases use the words, 'alleged,' 'claimed,' 'reputed,'

'rumored,' and so on."

And then this paragraph appeared in the society notes of the paper:

"It is rumored that a card party was given yesterday by a number of reputed ladies. Mrs. Smith, gossip says, was hostess. It is alleged that the guests with the exception of Mrs. Bellinger, who says she hails from Leavitt's Junction, were all from here. Mrs. Smith claims to be the wife of Archibald Smith, the so-called 'Honest Man' trading on Key Street."

And when the editor had read the report a whirling ma.s.s claiming to be the reporter was projected through the window and struck the street with a dull thud.

REPORTER--"Madam, you may recollect that we printed yesterday your denial of having retracted the contradiction of your original statement. Would you care to have us say that you were misquoted in regard to it."--_Life_.

As any reporter will tell you, the only place in a newspaper office where real toil is done is the city room. Imagine our pleasure when we overheard one of the office boys saying: "When I first came here I thought it was called the 'sitting room.' I said something about the sitting room one day to the city editor, and I thought he was going to throw me down the elevator shaft."

"Can you make anything out of the news from Europe?"

"Easiest thing in the world. I only read the newspapers every other day. In this way I get a connected story of our side or the other and avoid the denials."--_Puck_.

ENGLISH NEWSIE (selling extras)--"Better 'ave one and read about it now, sir; it might be contradicted in the morning."--_Punch_.

The reporter was sent to write up a charity ball. His copy came in late and it was careless. The editor reproved him the next day by quoting an extract:

"Look here, Scribbler, what do you mean by this, 'Among the most beautiful girls was Alderman Horatio Dingley'? Old Dingley ain't a girl, you idiot! He's one of our princ.i.p.al shareholders."

"I can't help that," returned the realistic reporter, "that's where he was."

When Earth's last paper is finished and the type is scrambled and pied, When the roar of the press becomes fainter and sheets are folded and dried; We shall rest, and Faith, we shall need it, for the way has been weary and long, And oft have we heard that chestnut, "Young man, you have quoted me wrong."

The cub reporter was grinding out a marriage notice. Finally he brought it up and laid it on the city editor's desk:

"Mr. and Mrs. Blank announce today the marriage of their daughter to take place next Monday--"

"Huh," grunted the editor, "you can't say they announced a marriage yet to take place."

Again the cub jabbed away at his typewriter. And when he brought it back this time it read:

"Mr. and Mrs. Blank predicted today the marriage of their daughter."