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Gent. That is what my enemies say, sir; but if you examine my certificates, sir, you will know the contrary.

Editor. I am open to conviction, sir.

Gent. Well, sir, I have been advertising in the Traveller for some time, and have paid them a great deal of money, and here they come out this week and abuse me—so, I have done with them; and, now, if you will say you will not attack me in this fashion, I will patronize you (holding out some tempting advertisements).

Editor. Well, sir, I shall be very happy to advertise for you; but I can give no pledge as to the course I shall feel bound to pursue.

Gent. Then, I suppose you will continue to call me a quack.

Editor. I do not know that I am accustomed to attack my friends and patrons; but if I have occasion to speak of you at all, it shall be in such terms as my best judgment shall dictate.

Gent. Then, I am to understand you as my enemy.

Editor. Understand me as you please, sir; I shall endeavor to treat you and all men with fairness.

Gent. But do you suppose I am going to pay money to those who ridicule me and hold me up as a quack?

Editor. You will pay it where you please, sir—I must enjoy my opinions.

Gent. Well, but is a man to be judged by what his enemies say of him? Every man has his enemies.

Editor. I hope not, sir; I trust I have not an enemy in the world.

Gent. Yes, you have—I'm your enemy!—and the enemy of every one who misrepresents me. I can get no justice from the press, except among the penny dailies. I'll start a paper myself before a year. I'll show that some folks can edit newspapers as well as others.

Editor. The field is open, sir,—go ahead.

[Exit in a rage,Rev. J. Goward, A. M., Teacher (in six lessons) of everything.]

Another proof of the happiness of the early days of our hero's editorial career might be found in the habit he then had of writing verses. It will, perhaps, surprise some of his present readers, who know him only as one of the most practical of writers, one given to politics, sub-soil plows, and other subjects supposed to be unpoetical, to learn that he was in early life a very frequent, and by no means altogether unsuccessful poetizer. Many of the early numbers of the New-Yorker contain a poem by ‘H. G.’ He has published, in all, about thirty-five poems, of which the New-Yorker contains twenty; the rest may be found in the Southern Literary Messenger, and various other magazines, annuals, and occasional volumes. I

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