y. His
serious and straightforward approach to an occupation which to him was a
labor of love was balanced by a sunny yet thoughtful humor, a
combination making his company something to be sought. Beloved of his
fellow workers, no one mourns his loss more sincerely than the editor
through whose hands passed all those brilliant contributions, now
finally marked, as all newspaper copy is, -30-.

"But though the _Intelligencer_ has suffered a personal and deeply felt
bereavement, American journalism has given another warrior on the
battlefield. Not by compulsion nor arbitrary selection, but of his own
free will, he who serves the public through the press is a soldier. And
as a soldier he is ready at the proper time to go forward and give up
his life if need be.

"No member of a sturdy army was more worthy of a gallant end than Jacson
Gootes. He died, not in some burst of audacity such as may occasionally
actuate men to astonishing feats, but doggedly and calmly in the line of
duty. More than a mere hero, he was a good newspaperman. W.R.L."

There were tears under my eyelids as the editor concluded his eulogy.
Under that gruff and even overbearing exterior must beat a warm and
tender heart. You can't go by appearances, I always say, and I felt I
would never again be hurt by whatever hasty words he chose to hurl at
me.

"Wake up, you moonstruck simpleton, and stop beaming at some private
vision. The time has passed for you to live on the bounty of the
_Intelligencer_ like the bloody mendicant you are. You have outlived
your usefulness as the man who started all this fuss; it is no longer
good publicity; the matter has become too serious.

"No, Weener, from now on, beneath your unearned byline the public will
know you only as the first to set foot upon this terra incognita, this
verdant isle which flourishes senselessly where only yesterday Hollywood
nourished senselessly. So rest no more upon your accidental laurels, but
transform yourself into what nature never intended, a useful member of
the community. I will make a newspaperman of you, Weener, if I have to
beat into your head an entire typefont, from fourpoint up to and
including those rare boldfaced letters we keep in the cellar to announce
on our final page one the end of the world.

"You will cover the grass as before and you will bring or send or cause
in some other manner to be transmitted to me copy without a single
adjective or adverb, containing nothing mo