STOPPING THE PRESS FOR AN ITEM.

Otago Witness, Issue 1489, 29 May 1880, Page 27

STOPPING THE PRESS FOR AN ITEM.

He was a well-to-do looking citizen, though the puffy fit of his clothes and a ferry-boat hat string hitched to a vest button denoted that he lived in Alameda, and came over to this part of the western universe at least twice a week ; and as he stepped into the city editor's room, wearing a most sepulchral expression, and applying a red silk handkerchief to a redder and much swollen nose, it was apparent at once that he was a man bowed down by some sudden grief. He dropped into a chair proffered by a kindhearted reporter, and remained for a few moments, evidently struggling with his sorrow. At last the editor of the .death notices picked up a fresh tablet, ooughed sympathetically once or twice, and inquired : "When did the sad occurrence take place ?" " Yesterday," said the gentleman from across the bay, in so harrowing a voice that even the Police Court special shuddered, and the managing editor got up and kicked his door shut. " Yesterday, about half -past four."

" Any particulars," said the Death-sharp, feeling in his pockets to make believe he owned a handkerchief.

"The facts are these," said the solemn man. " You know the excitement about fancy rifle shooting that has prevailed around here in consequence of these Carver and Ruth exhibitions."

" Of course — regular mania — well?" "Well, my brother Fliggers— Felix B. FUggerß— advertises with you I believe — got the Bhooting craze, and began practising all the Ruth tricks, although I told him over and over again that some terrible accident would be sure to happen, and so did my wife — perhaps you know my wife — was & Miss M'Macmuck ; father started the first flour mill in the State ? "

" No, think not ; but go on." " Well, he kept fooling away and making all kinds of risky shots, until the other day he started in to shoot a potato off the head of Bobby — that's his youngest child." "Hold up a minute," shouted the "Terrible Catastrophe " man, coming over and drawing up his chair. "Lemme see — infant son, named Kobert, age—?" " Aged nine years, "went on the Alameda mourner, in a still more lugubrious voice, "and one of the cleverest children of his years I ever knew — played on the Jew's harp like a grown person and took the spelling medal at the Brooklyn primary last session, and-"

" Ye 3, yes, my dear sir ; but about the shooting ? " "Ah, yes. Well, we 'all remonstrated with him, as I tell you ; but you couldn't tell Fliggers anything. Oh, no !. He knew it all. Held the rifle back over his shoulder, too, and took aim through a looking glassjust think of that ! " " Horrible, my dear sir, horrible ! " and the printer's devil went down stairs, five stairs at a jump, to stop the press.

" I should say so ! Well, I took FHggers aside half a dozen times, and I said, " Don't do it, Fliggers, my boy, don't do it." " For heaven's sake, hurry up ! " said the reporter, handing the first sheet to the foreman to be set up.

"But, as I said before, there was no use trying to argufy with 1 Fliggers, and so we all went out to the race track with him. I believe they ain't going to have any Spring r»oes over there this year — "

" For heaven's sake, sir, if you don't want the pressman to go insane — hurry up." "Let's see, where was I? Oh yes, well Fliggers got on well enough until he came to the potato trick, The very minute he raised his rifle I knew something was going to happen. He pulled the trigger and—" " His golden-haired darling fell with a bullet through his brain ! "

"Eh?"

" I say the child dropped dead." " Not at all, the child was all right, as Fliggers missed the potato about a yard, but he killed old mother Didimus' cow, and she began suit for damages this morning."'

And before the fighting editor could find his club the brogans of the mournful stranger had ceased rattling on the stairs. It's remarkable what good runners some of these demi-rustics are when it's nip and tuck.

6