htfully provided
for his father by installing him leader of the Parliamentary Corps
of that journal. The old gentleman, of course, knew nothing of
journalism, was not even capable of shorthand. Providentially he
was not required to take notes, but generally to overlook things,
a post which exactly suited Mr. Micawber. So he was inducted, and
filled the office even for a short time after his son had
impetuously vacated the editorial chair. Only the other day there
died an original member of the _Daily News_ Parliamentary Corps, who
told me he quite well remembered his first respected leader, his
grandly vague conception of his duties, and his almost ducal manner
of not performing them.

Of the many letters that come to me with the assurance that I have
in my possession blank appointments on the editorial and reportorial
staff of all contemporary journals paying good salaries, the saddest
are those written by more than middle-aged men with families. Some
have for years been earning a precarious living as reporters or
sub-editors on obscure papers, and now find themselves adrift;
others are men who, having vainly knocked at all other gates, are
flushed by the happy thought that at least they can write
acceptably for the newspapers; others, again, already engaged in
daily work, are anxious to burn the midnight oil, and so add
something to a scanty income. These last are chiefly clergymen and
schoolmasters--educated men with a love of letters and the idea that,
since it is easy and pleasant to read, it must be easy to write, and
that in the immensity of newspapers and periodical literature there
would be not only room, but eager welcome for them.

This class of correspondents is curiously alike in one feature.
There is an almost sprightliness in their conviction that what they
can write in these circumstances would exactly suit any paper, daily
or weekly, morning or evening. All they have to do is to give up
their odd savings of time to the work; all you--their hapless
correspondent--have to do is to fill up one of those blank
appointments with which your desk is clogged, and send it to them
by first post.

There is no other profession in the world thus viewed by outsiders.
No one supposes he can make boots, cut clothes, or paint the outside
of a house without having served some sort of apprenticeship, not to
mention the possession of special aptitude. Any one can, right off--,
become a journalist. Such as these, and al