Now, Mr. Reid, if you will just tell Mr. Nicholson, when you get back home, that in referring to us as a journalistic pal of Frank Hatton he has exceeded his authority, we will feel grateful to you--and so will Mr. Hatton. If you don't do it, we shall be called upon to stop the _Tribune_, and subscribe for _Harper's Weekly_. This we should dislike to do very much, because we have taken the _Tribune_ for years. We used to take it when the editor stayed at home and wrote for it. Our father used to take the _Tribune_, too. He is the editor of the Omaha _Republican_, and needs a good New York paper, but he has quit taking the _Tribune_. He said he must withdraw his patronage from a paper that is edited by a tourist. All the Nyes will now stop taking the _Tribune_, and all subscribe for some other dreary paper. We don't know just whether it will be _Harper's Weekly_, or the _Shroud_. Later.--Mr. Reid went through here on Tuesday, and told us that he might have been wrong in referring to us as a journalistic pal of Frank Hatton, and in fact did not know that the _Tribune_ had said so. He simply told Nicholson to kind of generally go for the administration, and turn over a great man every morning with his scathing pen, and probably Nicholson had kind of run out of great men, and tackled the North American Indian fighter of _The Boomerang_. Mr. Reid also said, as he rubbed some camphor ice on his nose, and borrowed a dollar from his wife to buy his supper here, that when he got back to New York, he was going to write some pieces for the _Tribune_ himself. He was afraid he couldn't trust Nicholson, and the paper had now got where it needed an editor right by it all the time. He said also that he couldn't afford to be wakened up forty times a night to write telegrams to New York, telling the _Tribune_ who to indorse for governor. It was a nuisance, he said, to stand at the center of a way station telegraph office, in his sun-flower night shirt, and write telegrams to Nicholson, telling him who to sass the next morning. Once, he said, he telegraphed him to dismember a journalistic pal of Frank Hatton's, and the operator made a mistake. So the next morning the _Tribune_ had a regular old ring-tail peeler of an editorial, which planted one of Mr. Reid's special friends in an early grave. So we may know from this that moulding the course of a great paper by means of red messages, is fraught with some unpleasant features. [Illustration: 0137] ALWAYS BOOM AT THE TOP.