I am tired of Reporting.
to report sale, then to a Dr. Stephenson�s, where
was a certain Indian �princess� one Nah-nee-
bah-me-qua, an Ojibbeway, who had crossed
the Atlantic, had an interview with the Queen, and
was now holding �levees,� for the purpose of getting
�assistance,� for herself, I suppose, rather than
her people. Thence to 50th street, to another
dog-breeder and seller, a colored man named
Gardiner. Returned tired enough and miserable.
Wrote reports in the evening and as Boweryem had
to go to the office, he took them down. I must
end this dreary hack-reporting somehow. They
set me on �a divided duty�; Croly the city-editor,
with an inefficient staff � only five reporters besides
myself � naturally wants the ordinary work done,
while Marble is content to set me at what I ex-
pected to do and bargained for, sketch writing and
metropolitanizing. Hence both is looked for. I have
no leisure and the dreary night journeys are unindu-
rable. If they are content to require only the better
sort of work, emancipating me from this beastly para-
graphing I stay, if not, exit ego.
I am going to put down an, at present, unex-
plainable incident, which if anything came of it,
would go far to establish a family superstition.
As I sat writing this night, Boweryem sitting on
the other side of the table, talking to me, on the mo-