| OCR Text |
Show Midnight in the Sanctum. It was past midnight and the lights in the Hawkeye sanctum shone brightly on the brave men of the staff there assembled. The news editor reached over for the brush to fasten a paragraph down over its credit. "It pastes to be honest," he murmured. "Especially when you are accessory to the act," said the editor. "But this," said the editor, lifting the old stove polish cut from a pile of loose manuscript, "is what give the paper-weight." "And this," said the associate, holding an original poem on "winter" in the gas jet, "lends it an airy lightness." "Nary lightness it is," said the news editor, "for there's pounds and pounds of it in the drawer." "Take care of the pounds," said the city editor, "and the pencil will take care of itself." "I should re-mark," said the proof read, as he called for a revise "And I should dollar," said the business manager, coming in with a hat full of manuscript. "Now you're shoutin'" sang the chorus "say your piece." I have come to cooperate with you," said the business manager. "See these are new adze-" "Put a pica head on him,' said the foreman. And longer had they sung but with a frown the funny man impatient rose and remarking that this was a noose paper, joked off all further debate and the ferrus went down. - [Burlington Hawkeye. |
