Greyson thought Phillips would find plenty of journalistic backing.

The concentration of the Press into the hands of a few conscienceless schemers was threatening to reduce the journalist to a mere hireling, and the better-class men were becoming seriously alarmed.

He found in his desk the report of a speech made by a well-known leader writer at a recent dinner of the Press Club.

The man had risen to respond to the toast of his own health and had taken the opportunity to unpack his heart.
"I am paid a thousand a year," so Greyson read to them, "for keeping my own opinions out of my paper.

Some of you, perhaps, earn more, and others less; but you're getting it for writing what you're told.