that Colonel Webb had stooped so far beneath anything of which we had ever conceived it possible for him to be guilty, as publicly, and before the eyes of hundreds who knew him, to descend to a personal chastisement of that villainous libel of humanity of all kinds, the notorious vagabond Bennett. But it is so."
In answer to Greeley's declaration that his paper, the Tribune, was to be the journal "of the virtuous and refined," the Sun a week later notified him that he must "go to school and learn a little decency."
Edgar Allen Poe, who occasionally found in cheap journalism an opportunity to make a needed penny, gave to the celebrated Moon Hoax story of Richard Adams Locke the credit for the success of penny journalism—a trifle too enthusiastically, as one might expect from a man of Poe's temperament:
"From the epoch of the hoax," he wrote, "the Sun shone with unmitigated splendor. Its success firmly established 'the penny system' through the country, and (through the Sun) consequently we are indebted to the genius of Mr. Bocke for one of the most important steps ever yet taken in the pathway of human progress."
Although the story scarcely justifies Poe's encomiums nevertheless it gave the Sun international fame at a time when Day could not reasonably have expected to attract attention beyond the confines of New York City. Locke, a man of education and great ability—he had Poe's unstinted admiration—was a reporter on the Sun at twelve dollars a week. Needing more money, he outlined his moon story to Day, to whom the project was acceptable, and, after a preliminary announcement to the effect that great astronomical discoveries had been made by Sir John Herschel, the Sun published on August 25, 1835, three columns of what purported to be a reprint
