Mr. Peck was born in New York in 1840, but he has lived in Wisconsin since 1843. He has been connected with newspapers at Whitewater, Jefferson, La Crosse, and Milwaukee. He founded the "Sun" at La Crosse in 1874, and later removed it to Milwaukee, where he called it "Peck's Sun." At one time he was unquestionably the best-known writer in Wisconsin, and the best-known Wisconsin writer throughout the country, which fame came to him through his "Peck's Bad Boy" sketches. He was also the author of "Peck's Compendium of Fun," "Peck's Sunshine," together with almost countless sketches which usually were in some way connected with the mischief-loving, mirth-provoking "Bad Boy." Neighbors of the Pecks in Whitewater tend, by their recollection of the former Governor, to confirm the suspicion that not all of "Peck's Bad Boy" was fiction, and that the author himself may have played a not inconsiderable part in the scenes therein depicted. Mr. Peck's fellow-citizens in Milwaukee honored him with the mayoralty, and the citizens of the state made him Governor from 1891 to 1895. He is now, January, 1916, a familiar figure to Milwaukee citizens. He has a keen memory for his old friends, and citizens, both young and old, who can remind him of some of his old neighbors in Whitewater or Jefferson are always sure of a pleasant chat with him. TROUBLE ABOUT READING A NEWSPAPER From "PECK'S BOSS BOOK," p. 42. Copyright, 1900, by W. B. Conkey Co. A man came into the "Sun" office on Tuesday with a black eye, a strip of court plaster across his cheek, one arm in a sling, and as he leaned on a crutch and wiped the perspiration away from around a lump on his forehead, with a red cotton handkerchief, he asked if the editor was in. We noticed that there was quite a healthy smell of stock-yards about the visitor, but thinking that in his crippled condition we could probably whip him, if worst came to worst, we admitted that we were in. "Well, I want to stop my paper," said he, as he sat down on one edge of a chair, as though it might hurt. "Scratch my name right off. You are responsible for my condition." Thinking the man might have been taking our advice to deaf men, to always walk on a railroad track if they could find one, we were preparing to scratch him off without any argument, believing that he was a man who knew when he had enough, when he spoke up as follows: