_Wild Western Journalism._ BY AN EX-EDITOR. One of the most thrilling occupations that a human being could follow in the old days--say a brief generation since--was that of editing a newspaper in a small American town. There was a fulness in the life, a feverish activity in the office and a perpetual spice of danger out of it, that made all other callings seem trivial. Things have changed a great deal in the past few years, but even yet Wild Western journalism can boast a flavour--a tang of its own. There is no other Press in the world quite like it; there is no similar body of men like those who engineer it. To our old friends, Mr. Pott, of the _Eatanswill Gazette_, and Mr. Slurk, of the _Eatanswill Independent_, their Occidental followers of the _Arizona Arrow_ and the _Tombstone Epitaph_ bear but faint resemblance. Perhaps in the birth-throes of English journalism--in the era of the _Mercurius Pragmaticus_ and the _Scot's Dove_--the vicissitudes of editors were not dissimilar to those endured by the Colorado and Texas editor of yesterday, who was often his own publisher, his own printer, and his own editor rolled in one--and not only that, but was forced to perform these functions with a six-chambered revolver reposing gracefully, yet ominously, on his desk. As to his Protean character there has been little if any improvement. I cull the following from a recent issue of the _Yampa_ (Oregon) _Leader_:-- The great city papers think they are smart in having a large staff, and, although we have not published ours before, we shall do so to take some of the conceit out of the city brethren. The editorial staff of the _Leader_ is composed of: Managing editor, V. S. Wilson; city editor, Vic Wilson; news editor, V. Wilson; editorial writer, Hon. Mr. Wilson; exchange editor, Wilson; pressman, the same Wilson; foreman, more of the same Wilson; devil, a picture of the same Wilson; fighting editor, Mrs. Wilson. [Illustration: Facsimile of newspaper, "Tombstone Epitaph"] By no means exaggerated is the description of a Western editor and his environment which was given some years ago by the authors of that amusing novel, "The Golden Butterfly." Prototypes of Gilead P. Beck could be found in abundance throughout the region west of the Mississippi. One of the most extraordinary characters and one of the most delightful was the late Alvin S. Peek--"Judge" Peek of Dakota--whose boast it was that he had "run" papers in nine different States and territories, had shot eleven men who disagreed with his opinions--three of them fatally--and had never swallowed a word he had ever written, and who died universally respected in bed and at the ripe age--for Dakota--of fifty-one years.