One night, when thePennsylvania lay in St. We cannot know to-day whether Zeb was pestered or not. In my opinion he don't exist. ecould run the job-press to the tune of Annie Laurie or Along the Beachat Rockaway, without missing a stroke or losing a finger.
The report passed the World night-editor, and appeared,next morning. Unfortunately, in my confusion and vexation, I said the wrong thing. Its admirers were numerous, and some had got into the habit of paying it a daily visit-from a distance, since Emerson and Selim ha It deserves preservation to-day, not only for its literaryvalue, but because no finer defense of the drama, no more searchingsermon on self-righteousness, has ever been put into concrete form.
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