Original works by Tennessee Press.

The doctor told me that the climate in the south can improve my health, so I went to Tennessee and worked as the editor of Morning Flowers and Johnson County. When I went to work, I found Director Pan leaning against a three-legged chair with his feet on a pine table. There is also a pine desk and a disabled chair in the room, both of which are almost covered with newspapers and newspaper clippings, as well as one manuscript after another. There is a wooden box full of sand, in which many cigar butts and "cigarette butts" are lost, and there is a stove with a door that can be turned on and off. Mr. Pen, Director, is wearing a long black back cloth coat and white linen trousers. His boots are small and polished with black boot oil. He was wearing a wrinkled shirt, a big badge ring, an old-fashioned collar and a Fang Gezi scarf with drooping ends. Clothing age is about 1848. He smoked a cigar and carefully pondered a sentence, and his hair had been scratched by him. He frowned and stared fearfully. I guess he is piecing together a particularly nerve-racking editorial. He asked me to have a look at the exchanged newspapers, write an "excerpt from the main news of Tennessee newspapers" and condense all the interesting materials in those newspapers into this article. So I wrote the following article: The editors of the semi-monthly Earthquake, excerpted from the news of Tennessee newspaper, obviously made a mistake in their report on the Barry Huck Railway. The company's policy is not to put Bazaar aside. Not only that, they also think that this place is one of the most important places along the route, so they will never despise it. Of course, the editors of Earthquake will be happy to correct it.

Mr. John Brocehn, an outstanding editor of Thunder and the Voice of Freedom in Higginsville, visited our city yesterday. He is staying at the Van Buren Hotel. We found that colleagues at the Voice of Ni Quanchen thought that Van Witt's election was not a definite fact, which was a wrong view, but he would find his mistake before seeing our correction. Of course, he made this incorrect inference because of the influence of incomplete ballot figures. Good news: Bretteville City is trying to sign contracts with several engineers in new york to renovate streets that are almost impassable with Nicholson paving materials. "The Daily Voice" strongly advocates this matter, and seems to be quite sure of the final success.

I give the manuscript to the editor-in-chief, who can use it, modify it or tear it up. He glanced at it and showed an unhappy look on his face. He looked down from page to page and his face became terrible. Obviously, something must be wrong. He immediately jumped up and said, "Ouch! Do you think I will use this tone when I mention those animals? Do you think customers will read such a bad article? Give me the pen! " I've never seen a pen scribble so viciously, scribble and change other people's verbs and adjectives so mercilessly. When he was doing this work, someone shot at him from outside the open window, which made my ear asymmetrical with the other. "Oh," he said, "that's that bastard Smith. He's from the spiritual volcano-he should have come yesterday. " So he drew a revolver from his belt and fired a shot. Smith was hit in the thigh and fell to the ground. He was about to fire the second shot, but because he was hit by the chief screenwriter, his gun was empty and he only hit an outsider. That is me. Fortunately, only one finger was knocked off. So, the chief penholder continued his revision, addition and deletion. Just as he was about to finish the modification, someone dropped a Grenade from the chimney of the stove, and the Grenade exploded, blowing the stove to pieces. Fortunately, only one flying fragment knocked out a pair of my teeth, and there was no other damage. "That stove was completely destroyed." The lead writer said. I said I thought so, too. "Oh, it doesn't matter-we don't need it in this weather. I know who did it. I will find him. You see, this thing should be written like this. " I want to take the manuscript. The article was edited into pieces. If it had a mother, she wouldn't know. Now it's the following: "Earthquake" is an excerpt from the news of Tennessee newspaper. Obviously, those swindlers are planning to create a rumor about the Balihak Railway, which is the most brilliant plan in the19th century, but they want to spread despicable and boring lies to deceive noble and generous readers. The idea that Bazaar will be put aside is only produced in their own hateful brains-or in what they think is that dirty place. They really should be whipped. If they want to avoid being hurt by others, they'd better take back the lie. Blossom, the fool of Thunder and the Voice of Freedom in Higginsville, is here again. He had the cheek to stay at the Van Buren Hotel. We found that Niquan Chensheng, a frivolous villain, released a rumor according to his habit of lying, saying that Fan Weite was not elected, and the mission of journalists was to spread true news. Eradicate mistakes; Education. Improve and improve public morality and customs, so that all people are more elegant, noble, charitable and better in all aspects. Purer and happier; But this black-hearted rogue blindly reduces the value of his great task and specializes in spreading fraud. Slander. Abusive and obscene words. Bretteville will use Nicholson paving materials to build roads-it needs a prison and a workhouse more. A town with only two small hotels. Isn't it absurd that a blacksmith shop and dogskin plaster newspaper "The Daily Voice" want to build roads? Bukner, the editor of Voice, is yelling for a while, trying to preach this thing with his usual stupid words, thinking that it makes sense.

"You see, it's exciting and to the point. Weakness makes me feel uncomfortable. " About this time, someone threw a brick in from the window and shocked my back badly. So I moved out of the line of fire-I began to feel that I was interfering with others. The lead writer said, "That's probably the colonel. I have been waiting for him for two days. He will come up soon. " He guessed well. The colonel, with a revolver in his hand, soon arrived at the door. He said, "Dude, can you let me deal with the coward who makes up such a dirty newspaper?" "yes. Have a seat, man. Be careful of that chair, it's missing a leg. I think you can let me deal with this rogue liar, Bretes Kate de Conte? " "Yes, man. I have a small account to settle with you. If you are free, let's start. " "I'm writing an article about the encouraging progress of American moral and intellectual development, and I'm trying to finish it, but it doesn't matter. Let's start. " Two pistols gave a bang at the same time. The main pen was knocked off by a lock of hair, and the colonel's bullet ended its journey in the fleshy part of my thigh. The colonel's left shoulder was slightly cut off. They shot again. None of them hit the target this time, but I was injured and shot in the arm. When the third shot was fired, both gentlemen were slightly injured and a cheekbone was cut off. So I said, I think I'd better go out for a walk, because this is their private matter, and it's a bit nerve-racking for me to get involved again. But both gentlemen begged me to continue sitting there and insisted that I was not in their way. Then they talked about the election and harvest while reloading, and I started dressing the wound. But they immediately opened fire, and they fought fiercely. Not every shot failed-but I should say that five of the six shots visited me. Another shot hit the colonel in the heart. He said humorously that he should go now, because he had something to go to town, so he inquired about the funeral home and left at once. The main pen turned to me and said, "I have an appointment for dinner." I have to be prepared. " Please help me, show me the certificate and entertain the guests. "I was a little timid when I heard that I was allowed to entertain guests, but the sound of gunfire just now was still ringing in my ears. I was scared out of my wits and couldn't think of anything to answer. He went on to say, "Jones will be here at 4 o'clock-give him a whip." "Jill may have come a little early-threw him out of the window. Ferguson will come around four o'clock-kill him. I think that's all for today. If you have more time, you can write an article satirizing the police-give the inspector a good scolding. Cowhide whip is under the table; The weapon is in the drawer-the bullet is in that corner-cotton and bandages are in the file rack above. If anything happens, you can go downstairs to see the surgeon Nancy. He put an advertisement in our newspaper-all we have to do is pay him. " He left. I'm shaking all over. By the end of the next three hours, I had experienced several thrilling dangers, so that my peaceful mood and happy mood disappeared without a trace. Gillespie came, but he threw me out of the window. Jones arrived at once again, and when I was about to give him a whip, he whipped it for me. Another stranger who wasn't on the list had a fight with me, and I let him scalp him. Another guest named Thompson tore my clothes to pieces. Later, I was cornered and surrounded by a large group of furious editors, gamblers, politicians and unscrupulous thugs. They all shouted insults and waved weapons over my head, making steel flash in the air. In this case, I wrote a letter to resign from the newspaper. At this time, the editor-in-chief returned, accompanied by a group of cheerful and enthusiastic friends. Then there was a fight, and the riot was indescribable. People were shot, stabbed, cut off, blown to pieces and thrown out of windows. A brief gloomy curse storm, mixed with chaos and fanatical cold-blooded dance, flashed dimly and then fell silent. Within five minutes, it calmed down, leaving only the bloody pen and I sitting there, looking at the messy traces left by the fight on the surrounding floor. He said, "You will like this place when you get used to it." I said, "I must ask you to forgive me;" I think I may be able to write a manuscript you like in the future; As long as I have learned the style of writing here after some practice, I believe I am competent. But to be honest, the momentum of that kind of wording is really inappropriate. Writing an article will inevitably cause a storm and be disturbed. You know it yourself. There is no problem in writing a powerful article, which can certainly inspire everyone's spirit, but I really don't want to attract people's attention like your newspaper. Like today, people keep interrupting me, so I can't write with peace of mind. I like this position very much, but I don't want to stay here to entertain your guests. My experience is novel, really good and unique, but today's things are still a little unfair. A gentleman shot at you from the window, and I got hurt. A bomb was thrown in from the chimney of the stove. It was supposed to be a gift for you, but the door of the stove slipped into my throat. A friend came in to say hello to each other, and as a result, I was shot all over and my wallet couldn't hold up. When you went out to eat, Jones came and whipped me, Gilles threw me out of the window, Thompson stripped off all my clothes, and a complete stranger peeled off my scalp. He is as free as an old friend. In less than five minutes, all the bad guys in this area came with faces painted, and they all scared me out of my wits with tomahawks. Generally speaking, I have never met such a lively event as today. No; I like you, and I like your style of quietly explaining problems to guests, but you know, I'm not used to it. Southerners are too impulsive; Southerners are too generous to entertain guests. The paragraph I wrote today is lifeless. With a stroke of your pen, you poured the powerful momentum of Tennessee news into it, which inevitably caused a hornet's nest. Those messy editors will come here again-they will come hungry and kill someone for breakfast. I have to say goodbye to you. I have to thank you for asking me to take part in this lively event. I came to the south to recuperate, and now I want to go back for the same purpose, and I also intend to leave. I am very excited about the news style in Tennessee. "After I said these words, we broke up with apologies, so I moved to the hospital and lived in the ward.