Rensselaer Union and Jasper Republican, Volume 8, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 May 1876 — Mark Twain as an Agricultural Editor. [ARTICLE]

Mark Twain as an Agricultural Editor.

I did not take the temporary editorship •of an agricultural paper without misgiv- ‘ Inga. Neither would a landsman take •Command of a ship without misgivings. But I was in circumstances that made the salary an object. The regular editor of the paper was going off for a holiday, and 1 accepted the terms he offered and took his place. • The sensation of being at work again was luxurious, and I wrought all the week with unflagging pleasure. We went to press, and I waited a day, with some solicitude, to see Whether my effort was going to attract any notice. As 1 left the office, toward sundown, a group of men and boys at the foot of the stairs dispersed with 6ne impulse, and gave me passageway, and 1 heard one of them say: “ That’s him!” I was naturally pleased by this incident. The next morning I found a similar group at the foot of the stairs, scattering couples and individuals standing here and there in the street, and over the way, watching me with interest The group separated and fell back as I approached, and I heard a man say: 41 Look at his eye!” I pretended not to observe the notice 1 was attracting, but secretly I was pleased with it, ana was purposing so. write an account of it to my ssmt 1 went np the short flight of stairs aad beard cheery voices and a ringing laugh as I drew near the door, which I opened, and caught a glimpse of two young rural-looking men, whose faces blanched and lengthened when they saw me, and then thev both plunged through the window with a great crash. I was surprised. In about half on hour an old gentleman, with a flowing beard and a fine but rather austere face, entered and sat d6wn at toy invitation. He seemed ttf have something on his mind: He rook off his hat and set Uon Uk floor, and got out of it a rod flIHt bkudkerchitf and a copy of •our paper. He put the paper in his lap, and, while h 6 polished his spectacles with his handkerchief, he said: “Are you the new editor?” I said I was. “ Have you ever edited an agricultural paper before?” “No,” said I, “this is my first atvery likely. Have you had any experieace in agriculture practically?” “No; I believe I hafce not.’’. “ Soma instinct told me so,” said the old gentleman, putting on his spectacles add looking over them with asperity, while he folded his paper into a convenient shape. “ I wish to read yon what must have made me have that instinct. It was this editorial. Listen and see if it was you that wrote it: “? Turnips should never be pulled; it injures thOm. It is much better to send a boy up and let him shake the tree.’ ‘•Now, what do you think of that—for I really suppose you wrote it” “Think ofitP why, I think it is good. 1 think it is sense. I have no doubt that every year millions and millions 6f bushels of turnips are spoiled in this towqsiup alone by being pulled in half rips if they had sent “lihake your grandmother! Turnips don’t grow on trees!” “Oh, they don’t, don't they? Well, who said they did? The language was intended to be figurative—wholly figurative. Anybody mat knows anything will know that I meant that the boy should shake the vine.” Then this old person got np and tore his paper all into small shreds, and stamped on them, and broke several things with his cane, and said I did not know as much as a cow; a»<f then went Boat and banged the door alter him, and, itt short, acted in such a way that 1 fancied he was displeased about something. But not knowing what the trouble nv help to him. his a long, cadaverinkj locks hanging and a week’s stubhills and valleys of 1 the door and haltfinger on Hp, and a listening attitude. Still he listened, the key in ien ho stopped, and, 1 with intense interred copy of our

paper from his bosom said: “Thereyou wrote that Read it to me quick. Believe me. I Buffer." 1 read as follows, and as the sentences fell from my lip* I could see the relief come. I could see the drawn muscles relax, and the anxiety go out of the face, lato foadAcape: ls JvWeut that we are to have a mmmiwmon for grfUn. Therefore it farmer to begin eetMmTl* cornstalks and planting hi.

buckwheat cahss in July instead of Authe pumpkin. This berry Is a rewrite with foe native, of the Interior of New England, who preterit to the gooseberrv for the making of fruit cake, and who likewise give it the prefer as being more filling and Hilly as satirfylng. The pumpkin is the only esculent of the orange family that will thrive In the North, except the gourd and one or two varieties of toe squash. Bat the custom of planting it In the front yard with the shrubbery is fast going out of vogue, for k-ie now generally conceded find the pumpkin as a shade tree is a failure. “Now, as toe warm weather approaches, and toe ganders begin to spawn ” The excited liatener sprang toward me to shake hands, and said:

' ■ There, there -that will do. I know I am all right now, because you have read it Just as I did word for word. But, stranger, when I first read it this morning, I said to myself, I never, never, bolieved It before, notwithstanding my friends kept me under watch so strict, but now I believe lam crazy; and with that I fetched a howl that you might have heard two miles, and started out to kill somebody, because, you know, I knew it would come to that sooner or later, and so I might as well begin. I read one of them paragraphs over again so as to be certain, and then I burned my house down and started. I have crippled several people, and have got one fellow up a tree, where I can get him if 1 want him. But I thought that I would call in here as I passed along and make the thingperfectly certain; and now it t* certain, and I tell you it is lucky for the chap that is in the tree. I should have killed him, sure as 1 went back. Goodby, sir, good-by; you have taken a great load off my mind. My reason has stood the strain of one of your agricultural articles, and I know that nothing can ever unseat it now. Oood-by , sir.” I felt a little uncomfortable about the cripplings and arson this person had been entertaining himself witty, for I could not help feeling remotely accessory to them. But the thoughts were quickly banished, for the regular editor walked in. (I thought to myself, now, if you had gone to Egypt, as I had recommended you to, I might have had a chance to get my hand in, but you wouldn’t do it, and hare you are. I sort of expected you.) The editor was looking sad, and perplexed, and dejected. He surveyed the wreck which that old rioter and these two young fanners had made, and then said! “ This is a sad bnsiness—a very aad business. There is the mucilage bottle broken, and six panes of glass, and a spittoon, and two candlesticks. But that is not the worst. The reputation of the papier is Injured—permanently, I fear. True, there never was such a call for the paper before, and it never sold such a large edition or soared to such celebrity; but does one want to be famous for lunacy, and prosper upon the infirmities of his mind? My friend, as 1 am an honest man, the street out here is full of people, and others are roosting on the fence, waiting to get a glimpse of you, because they think you are crazy. And well they might alter reading your editorials. They are a disgrace to journalism. Why, what put it into your head that you could edit a paper of this nature? You do not seem to know the first rudiments of agriculture. You speak of a furrow and a harrow as being the same thing; you talk of the moulting season for cows, and you recommend the domestication of the polecat on account of its playfulness and its excellence as a ratter. Your remark that clams will lie quiet if music til played to them was superfluous—entirely superfluous. Nothing disturbs clams. Glams always lie quiet. Clams care nothing whatever about music. And heavens and earth, friend! If you had made the acquiring of ignorance the study of your life, you could not have graduated with, higher honor than you coutd to-day. I never saw anything like it. ' Your observation of the horsechestnut, as an article of commerce steadily gaming in favor, is Bimply calculated to destroy this journal. I want you to throw up your situation and gQ. I want no more holiday—l could not enjoy it if I had it. Certainly not with you in my chair. I would always stand in dread of what yon might be going to recommend next. It makes me lose ml patience every time I think of your discussing oysterbeds under the head of ‘ Landscape Gardening.’ I want you to go. Nothing on earth could persuade me to take another holiday. Oh! why didn’t you tell me you didn’t Know anything about agriculture.” “ Tell you, you cornstocck, you cabbage, you son of a cauliflower! It’s the first time I ever heard such an unfeeling remark. I tell you I have been in the editorial business going on fourteen years, and it’s the first time I ever heard of a man’s having to know anything in order to edit a newspaper. You turnip! Who write the critiques for the second-rate players? Why, a parcel of promoted shoemaker’s and apprentice apothecaries, who know just as much about good acting as Ido about good farming, and no more. Who review the books ? People who never wrote one. Who do up the heavy leaders on finance ? Parties who have the largest opportunities for knowing nothing about it. Who criticise the Indian campaigns ? Gentlemen who do not know a war-whoop from a wigwam, and who have never had to run afoot-race with a tomahawk, or pluck arrows out of several members of their families to build the evening camp-fire with. Who write the temperance appeals and clamor about the flowing bowls? Folks who will never draw another sober breath till they do it in the grave. Who edit the agricultural papers, you yam ? Men as a general thing, who fail in the poetry line, yellow-covered novel line, sensation drama line, city editor line, and finally fall back on agriculture as a temporary reprieve from the poor-house. You try to tell me anything about the newspaper business! Sir, I have been through it from Alpha to Omaha, and I tell you the less a man knows the bigger noise he makes ancT the higher the salary he commands. Heaven knows, if 1 had been ignorant, instead of cultivated, and impudent instead of diffident, I could have made a name for myself in this cold, selfish world. I take my leave, sir. Since 1 have been treated as you have treated me, lam perfectly willing to go. But I have done my duty. I have fulfilled my contract as far as i was permitted to do it. I said 1 could make your paper of interest to all classes, and I have. I said I could run your, circulation up to 20,000 copies, and if I had had two more weeks I’d have done it. And I’d have given you (he best class of readers that ever an agricultural paper had—not a farmer in it, nor a solitary individual who could tell a watermelon tree from a peach vine to save his life. You are the loser by this rupture, not me, pie-plant. Adioe.” I then left. —“ Sketclu* qf Mark Twain."

The Tibo Republice, published in the city of Mexico, reports that Mrs. k. De Sa pious Sister of Mercy, has discovthe medicinal virtues of an herb, by the use of which she has cured 101 cases of typhoid fever out of 103 cases which she has visited. She makes no secret of her >*■ , , Flaxseed Lemonade (good for colds). —Pour one quart boiling water over four tabiespoonfuls 'of ilaxseerl. Sleep—not boil—three hours; cover closely while steeping; then strain, sweeten m taste, and add the juice of two Jemons, puttiag in more water if too thick to be agreeable. —Qhrietian Union. J ‘