THE EDITOR AND ME CRITIC.
The Editor was pacing back and forth through the
long halls of Old Main in a desultory and absent minded
sort of way. His personal appearance pointed to the fact
that another . issue of the College monthly was dne,--his
tlothes were dUsty, his shoes muddy, collar soiled, necktie
askew; and hair all on end. As he passed the door of the
Sanctum in his march, he paused, hesitated, and then as if
from force:Of habit, entered and threw himself dejectedly
into his chair.
But his entrance had been anticipated, for the Critic was
there, lying in wait for him like some beast of the jungle,
ready to pounce upon his victim at the first opportunity.
"Well, you are a nice looking Editor !" he began before
the door had scarcely closed. "And say, why in the deuce
did you go and put everything that I said to you last month
in the 'paper ? Can't a man say anything without your re
peating it ? It is a blamed good thing that nobody knows
who I am, or I should have to order my coffin immediately !
Why, you might just as well 'throw physic to the dev—er-er,
the dogs' as to think of improving matters by criticising
College affairs !If you uphold. the Faculty, the students jump
oii you; and if you don't, the Professors do it I"
5St
He paused in his assault as if to give his victim a chance
to'defend himself. But the Editor never moved a muscle,
, Ohly . sat with eyes cast down as if in despair. The Critic