Freedom Of The Press Belongs To The

Last Week, I Had To Offer My Publisher A Bottle That Was Far Too Good For Him Simply Because There Was Nothing Between The Insulting And The Superlative.

The Pattern Of A Newspaperman's Life Is Like The Plot Of 'black Beauty.' Sometimes He Finds A Kind Master Who Gives Him A Dry Stall And An Occasional Bran Mash In The Form Of A Christmas Bonus, Sometimes He Falls Into The Hands Of A Mean Owner Who Drives Him In Spite Of Spavins And Expects Him To Live On Potato Peelings.the Sunday World Was A Dry-stall Interlude In My Wanderings.

News Is Like The Tilefish Which Appears In Great Schools Off The Atlantic Coast Some Years And Then Vanishes, No One Knows Whither Or For How Long. Newspapers Might Employ These Periods Searching For The Breeding Grounds Of News, But They Prefer To Fill Up With Stories About Kurdled Kurds Or Calvin Coolidge, Until The Banks Close Or A Hitler Marches, When They Are As Surprised As Their Readers.

If There Is Any Way You Can Get Colder Than You Do When You Sleep In A Bedding Roll On The Ground In A Tent In Southern Tunisia Two Hours Before Dawn, I Don't Know About It.

Southern Political Personalities, Like Sweet Corn, Travel Badly. They Lose Flavor With Every Hundred Yards Away From The Patch. By The Time They Reach New York, They Are Like Golden Bantam That Has Been Trucked Up From Texas - Stale And Unprofitable. The Consumer Forgets That The Corn Tastes Different Where It Grows.