P.
But all this is sadly anticipating.
Obviously, you will say, a force recruited from such dissimilar
sources must be a thing of wide and sundry experience. And
obviously you are right. Could a man catch up the Z. P. by the
slack of the khaki riding breeches and shake out their stories as
a giant in need of carfare might shake out their loose change,
then might he retire to some sunny hillside of his own and build
him a sound-proof house with a swimming pool and a revolving
bookcase and a stable of riding horses, and cause to be erected on
the front lawn a kneeling-place where publishers might come and
bow down and beat their foreheads on the pavement.
There are men in the Z. P. who in former years have played horse
with the startled markets of great American cities; men whose
voices will boom forth in the pulpit and whisper sage councils in
the professional in years to come; men whom doting parents have
sent to Harvard--on whom it failed to take, except on their
clothes--men who have gone down into the Valley of the Shadow of
Death and crawled on hands and knees through the brackish red brook
that runs at the bottom and come out again smiling on the brink
above. Careers more varied than Mexican sombreros one might hear
in any Z. P. squad-room--were not the Z. P. so much more given to
action than to autobiography.
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