“That I may rise early, I, of course, go to bed early; in town as early as ten; in the country somewhat earlier.... I abominate drugs and narcotics, and have always carefully avoided anything which spurs nature to exertions which it would not otherwise make. Even with my food I do not take the usual condiments, such as pepper and the like.” A man who was so conscientious about eating and drinking and going to bed and getting up in the morning, was the kind of man who would be conscientious in editing a newspaper. In Bryant’s early newspaper life a great daily paper was not so much a machine to gather news from every quarter of the globe and serve it up in a sensational style, as a medium for discussing public questions. Nowadays, people often do not even look at the editorial column; but in those days there was so little news they were obliged to read this. It was about the only fresh thing in the paper. Once a week, perhaps, a sailing vessel from Europe would come in with a bundle of European newspapers, from which the editor would clip and reprint a summary of foreign news. It took several days to get news from Washington to New York. Local items were generally sent in by friends of the editor. For years Bryant had but one assistant, and they two did all the reporting, editing, and editorial writing. Reviews of books were sometimes done outside, and the shipping and financial news was furnished by a sort of City Press Association. It was Bryant’s work to write a brilliant editorial or two every morning. Many of these were on politics, others on questions of local public interest. But Bryant tried always to be on the side of right and justice. For years the _Post_ was regarded as the leading paper of the people, standing for the rights of the people. Many a time it fought the battles of the great public, and sometimes it won. A daily paper lasts but for a day; then it is dead and another takes its place. To know how completely a daily paper dies when its day’s work is done, so to speak, suppose you try to buy a copy three months old, or a year old. You remember three months ago there were hundreds of thousands of copies printed and distributed. You suppose that you can get a copy at the office of the paper, at any rate. But no; all more than three months old have been destroyed. In New York there was once a little old shop, kept by a queer old mulatto, known as “Back Number Bud,” who charged a dollar and a half for a one cent paper, less than a year old. This shop of “Back Number Bud’s” was, a few years ago, the only place in New York City where back numbers of newspapers could be purchased at any price; and in smaller cities no copies whatever could be obtained, except by chance.