a church in New York, which was built up to a certain height, when the material gave out, and it was hastily roofed in, leaving the upper half of the architect’s design unexecuted.  That region of the mind where conviction, the sense of truth and honor, public spirit and patriotism have their sphere, is in this man mere vacancy.  But, we repeat, as far as he is built up, he is very well constructed.  Visit him:  you see before you a quiet-mannered, courteous, and good-natured old gentleman, who is on excellent terms with himself and with the world.  If you are a poor musician, about to give a concert, no editor is more likely than he to lend a favorable ear to your request for a few lines of preliminary notice.  The persons about him have been very long in his employment, and to some of them he has been munificently liberal.  The best of them appear to be really attached to his person, as well as devoted to his service, and they rely on him as sailors rely on a captain who has brought them safe through a thousand storms.  He has the Celtic virtue of standing by those who stand by him developed to the uttermost degree.  Many a slight favor bestowed upon him in his days of obscurity he has recompensed a thousand-fold since he has had the power to do so.  We cannot assign a very exalted rank in the moral scale to a trait which some of the lowest races possess in an eminent degree, and which easily runs into narrowness and vice; nevertheless, it is akin to nobleness, and is the nearest approach to a true generosity that some strong natures can attain.

What are we to say of the public that has so resolutely sustained this paper, which the outside world so generally condemns?  We say this.  Every periodical that thrives supplies the public with a certain description of intellectual commodity, which the public is willing to pay for.  The New York Ledger, for example, exists by furnishing stories and poetry adapted to the taste of the greatest number of the people.  Our spirited friends of The Nation and Round Table supply criticism and that portion of the news which is of special interest to the intellectual class.  The specialty of the daily newspaper is to give that part of the news of the day which interests the whole public.  A complete newspaper contains more than this; but it ranks in the world of journalism exactly in the degree to which it does this.  The grand object of the true journalist is to be fullest, promptest, and most correct on the one uppermost topic of the hour.  That secured, he may neglect all else.  The paper that does this oftenest is the paper that will find most purchasers; and no general excellence, no array of information on minor or special topics, will ever atone for a deficiency on the subject of most immediate and universal interest.  During the war this fundamental truth of journalism was apparent to every mind.  In time of peace, it is less apparent, but not less a truth.  In the absence of an absorbing topic, general news rises in importance, until, in the dearth of the dogdays, the great cucumber gets into type; but the great point of competition is still the same,—­to be fullest, quickest, and most correct upon the subject most interesting at the moment.