When I went down to breakfast at seven o'clock in the morning, I heard
the newsboys in the streets crying, "All about the fire!" I bought a
paper and read the headline, "Hubbard's Lecture Hot Stuff!"
I walked out Saint Charles Avenue and viewed the smoldering ruins
where only a few hours before I had spoken to more than two thousand
people--where the bishop in purple vestment had cried "Bravo!" and the
stout lady with feathered fan had beamed approval.
"Was anybody hurt?" I asked one of the policemen on guard.
"Only one man killed--Fass, the Secretary; I believe he lies somewhere
over there to the left, beneath that toppled wall."
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The person who reasons from a false premise is
always funny--to other folks.