Six years ago, I looked at a picture of the world's greatest newspaper men. I felt like a kid in front of a candy store. Well, tonight, six years later, I got my candy-all of it. Welcome, gentlemen, to the Inquirer! Make up an extra copy of that picture and send it to the Chronicle, will you please? It'll make you all happy to learn that our circulation this morning was the greatest in New York, 684,000.

Six hundred and eighty-four thousand one hundred and thirty-two!

Right! Having thus welcomed you, I hope you'll forgive my rudeness in taking leave of you. I'm going abroad next week for a vacation. I've promised my doctor for some time now that I'd leave when I could, and I now realize that I can't.

Say, Mr. Kane, as long as you're promising, there's a lot of pictures and statues in Europe you haven't bought yet.

You can't blame me, Mr. Bernstein. They've been making statues for two thousand years, and I've only been buying for five.

Promise me, Mr. Kane.

I promise you, Mr. Bernstein.

Thank you.

Mr. Bernstein? You don't expect me to keep any of those promises, do you?