 There appeared in the New York Times an editorial which expressed clearly, beautifully, and sincerely the feeling that many have had these last few days concerning the Lone Ranger. Because it is so completely and admirably summing up these feelings, and because many who share them may not yet have had the opportunity to see the editorial, we read it now. The Immortal Ranger. Earl H. Grazer was killed in an automobile wreck early Tuesday morning, but the rumor that the Lone Ranger is dead is unfounded. It was a man who died. A man with a silver voice, a modest pleasant personality, several college degrees, and it was said, an ambition to act hamlet. His death, like the death he tried to prevent in his radio campaign for safety, was pitifully unnecessary. But he didn't take the Lone Ranger with him. The Lone Ranger doesn't die, and silver his horse will never get broken-winded. The Lone Ranger under that name came into being in this generation for a radio public. But under various names he has been alive for many centuries. He was Ulysses, William Tell, and Robin Hood. He was Richard the Lionhearted, and the Black Prince. He was Kit Carson, Daniel Boone, and David Crockett. He was honest, truthful, and brave, and so he remains. He got into dangers that would paralyze an ordinary man. But if there was an injustice to be righted, a wrong to be presented, he liked danger. In the simple hearts of children and possibly of adults who were willing to take a vacation from what unhappily was to have to be printed nowadays on the first pages of newspapers, he was as real as a policeman on the corner. He still is, and his trusty steed waits to carry him on his errands across the face of the wondrous West, where the air is crystal and virtue never lacks for its reward. There is a beating of the hoos, as in the nick of time he swings into action. Ride Tunnel, ride Lone Ranger, hide your silver. This was an editorial which appeared in the New York Times this morning.