It was part of Mr. Pulitzer's scheme of nautical life to shroud all his movements in mystery. One result of this was that when we were on the yacht we never knew where we were going until we got there. The compass- course at any moment betrayed nothing of Mr. Pulitzer's intentions, for we might turn in at night with the ship heading straight for Naples and wake up in the morning to find ourselves three miles south of the Genoa lighthouse. Apart from Mr. Pulitzer's fancy, our erratic maneuvers were affected by our need to make good weather out of whatever wind we encountered, on the one hand because J. P., though an excellent sailor, disliked the rolling produced by a beam sea, since it interfered with his walking on deck, and on the other hand, because several of the secretaries suffered from sea-sickness the moment we were off an even keel. Mr. Pulitzer was not a man prone to be placated by excuses; but he had come to realize that neither a sense of duty nor the hope of reward, neither fear nor courage, can make an agreeable companion out of a man who is seasick. So, unless there was an important reason why we should reach port, we always made a head-wind of anything stronger than a light breeze, and followed the weather round the compass until it was fair for our destination. As soon as we left Mentone Mr. Pulitzer began the process of education which was designed to fit me for his service. "When you were in New York," he asked, "what papers did you read?" "The Sun and The Times in the morning and The Evening Sun and The Evening Post at night," I replied. "My God! Didn't you read The World?" "Nothing but the editorial page." "Why not? What's the matter with it?" I explained that I was not interested in crime and disaster, to which The World devoted so much space, that I wanted more foreign news than The World found room for, and that I was offended by the big headlines, which compelled me to know things I didn't want to know. "Go on," he said; "your views are not of any importance, but they're entertaining." "Well," I continued, "I think The World was excellently described a few years ago in Life. There was a poem entitled, 'New York Newspaper Directory, Revised,' in which a verse was devoted to each of the big New York papers. I believe I can remember the one about The World, if you care to hear it, for I cut the poem out and have kept it among my clippings." "Certainly, go ahead." I recited: "A dual personality is this, Part yellow dog, part patriot and sage; When't comes to facts the rule is hit or miss, While none can beat its editorial page. Wise counsel here, wild yarns the other side, Page six its Jekyll and page one its Hyde; At the same time conservative and rash, The World supplies us good advice and trash."