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History Is Bright And Fiction Dull With Homely Men Who Have Charmed Women.

There Is No Well Defined Boundary Line Between Honesty And Dishonesty. The Frontiers Of One Blend With The Outside Limits Of The Other, And He Who Attempts To Tread This Dangerous Ground May Be Sometimes In The One Domain And Sometimes In The Other.

East Is East, And West Is San Francisco, According To Californians. Californians Are A Race Of People; They Are Not Merely Inhabitants Of A State.

In Time Truth And Science And Nature Will Adapt Themselves To Art. Things Will Happen Logically, And The Villain Be Discomfited Instead Of Being Elected To The Board Of Directors. But In The Meantime Fiction Must Not Only Be Divorced From Fact, But Must Pay Alimony And Be Awarded Custody Of The Press Despatches.

If There Ever Was An Aviary Overstocked With Jays It Is That Yaptown-on-the-hudson, Call New York. Cosmopolitan They Call It, You Bet. So's A Piece Of Fly-paper. You Listen Close When They're Buzzing And Trying To Pull Their Feet Out Of The Sticky Stuff. "little Old New York's Good Enough For Us"--that's What They Sing.