A SPECIAL'S EXPERIENCE.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 3581, 3 January 1883, Page 4

A SPECIAL'S EXPERIENCE.

••Anybody liked you to-day:" growled the editor : "you're a pretty reporter fo squeal at being thrown down stairs now and then.' "Oh! I don't mind the throwing out. I'm used to that : but. it's Ihe exposure and fatigue that plays me out: I. haven't, got the staying powers, you see." " The what':" "Why, the hang on -the grip-don't you understand ': For instance, last; week I've been on (he Palace Hotel detail to interview noted arrivals ; foiiruights hand running I've had to crawl under those infernally low bedsteads they have- at the Palace, and lie there twelve or fourteen hours, although the dust and feathers kept out every word the distinguished arrivals said : then, perhaps, along- in the morning I'd fall asleep auct be bulled in the nose a iij\v limes by a sweeping machine. Perhaps you imagine that's pleasant ':" " You should wear one of those patent Keyhole Nose and Eye Protectors like the rest of the boys do," said the other. " Bad cold you've got there." "' It'll be the death of me." ga-qied the special, who had been coughing for five minutes. " I caught it last week on that divorce case on Van Ness avenue. To get at the bottom of facts I had to hide in the bathroom for two days. I kept the tub filled, and every time anybody came round I'd hay to dive in to hide myself. Sometimes I couldn't come to tho surface to breathe for more than an hour."' "That's nothing," abstractedly replied the editor, who was writing a. sensational item with the scissors. "Ain't, eh" muttered the journalistic wreck. " But last night's work lets me out for gocxl. You know 1. was sent up to skulk round that Supervisor's house to work ii]) that sewei' steal matter. Well, there was no closet, or any other high grass in the room, so I had to rush up the chimney. 1 was getting- on first rate, and had both cuffs filled with memorandums when, towards evening, the weather turned chilly, and I'm blessed if they didn't start a. fire in (he grate. I had to shin up clear to the top of the house--four stories-- to get out. Look here !" and the interviewer held up a badly scorched pair of pants and shoes with the bottoms burned dean out. " So yon think you'll quit, eh ':"' "Well; "I should smile." said the smoked-out parly, grimly. " I thought, I'd try and hang" on till the soup-houses opened, but it's no —"' and bis voice died away into an inaudible rattle. It was more than an hour before the editor looked up again, and then he started and said : "'Great Scott,! he's dead ! Well, this is luck. Here, somebody! lock the door quiclc, and help me to put the corpse in the closet until the paper goes to press." And, with a grin of fiendish delight, the •• live" (juill driver started in on a pathetic account of the sad (went, headed '-Melancholy Occurrence ! Sudden Death of a Well known Journalist,"