Thanksgiving harvest in January. Christmas celebration in February. Spring planting in July! To say nothing of the inconvenience this has caused in my bookkeeping department! I suppose the man will now try to change the weather to suit his new calendar! * * * * * January 8, 1 New San Francisco He can't last! He can't! A dictator is one thing. A monarch is another. But Kyle is something else! Naturally he had to remove certain persons from his way. And his summer palace in the plains region of America--that's all right, that's all right! An authority of Kyle's stature is expected to remove undesirables, and to have a summer palace, and a winter palace, and anything else he wants! Of course! But why this? Why _this_ of all things! No newspapers! Just like that! _He_ waves an edict, and just like that, _no newspapers_! The _Beacon-Sentinel_ has been a great paper for the last twenty-five years! It was nothing, and I was nothing, and together we became a Voice! And now again, we are nothing! Oh, I see what's behind it! It's revenge, that's what it is! Because he once couldn't become a "noospaper" man, he's taking his vengeance this way. A man as petty as that shall be overthrown! Mark my words! And the clumsiness of it! I see what he is! I know him! He's still that pup of seventeen, playing king with the world, twisting his hands in glee over his childish triumph. No subtlety! Just a direct pushing over an applecart he couldn't steer! Doesn't matter whose apples you destroy, does it, Jonesy? Just push it over--push it over! * * * * * January 16, 1 New San Francisco Closed the _Beacon-Sentinel_ yesterday. My savings are enough to take care of me for a few years. After that--ah, well, I am no longer a young man. I am glad that Elsa is not here to see this. * * * * * February 12, 1 New San Francisco Received a letter this morning, requesting me to appear at the chambers of His Most Imperial Majesty, Kyle the First, on Tuesday of next week. His Most Imperial Majesty can see me between 10:15 and 10:25 on that morning. Ten minutes--rather a brief spell in which to roll another head. I find myself amazed, though. Is this man so truly powerful that he needs no police to make his arrests for him? Can he really send messages via jetmail and be certain his enemies will not try to escape? I don't want to attempt flight. Life without my work is no longer life. * * * * *