CHAPTER ELEVEN.
"LIFE!"
I hold it truth with him who sings, On one clear harp, in divers tones, That men may rise, on stepping stones Of their dead lives, to higher things!
However grievous and crushing we may consider the trials and troubles oflife to be, while they last, they are never altogether unbearable.
The load laid upon us is seldom weighted beyond the capacity of ourendurance; and then, when in course of time our ills become alleviated,and the burden we have so long borne slides off our backs, the relief wefeel is proportionately all the greater, our sense of light-heartednessand mental freedom, the more intense and complete.
Existence, to follow out the argument, is not always painted in shadow,its horizon obscured by dark-tinted nebulosities! On the contrary,there is ever some light infused into it, to bring out the deepertones--"a silver lining" generally "to every cloud," as the proverb hasit. So, I now experienced, as I am going to tell you.
The second year of my residence in America opened much more brightlythan the miserable twelvemonth I had just passed through might have ledme to hope--if I could have hoped on any longer, that is!
Early in the spring, when the warming breath of the power-increasing sunwas slowly unloosing the chains of winter--when the rapid-running Hudsonwas sweeping down huge blocks and fields of ice from Albany, floodingNew York Bay with a collection of little bergs, so that it lookedsomewhat like the Arctic effect I had seen on the Thames on that happyChristmas of the past, only on ever so much larger a scale--I receivedletters from England that cheered me up wonderfully, changing the wholeaspect of my life.
"Good news from home, good news for me, had come across the deep bluesea"--in the words of Gilmore's touching ballad; and "though I wanderedfar away, my heart was full of joy to-day; for, friends across theocean's foam had sent to me good news from home"--to further paraphraseit.
_Good_ news?--"glorious news," rather, I should say!
Yes, I had not only a glad, welcome letter from Miss Pimpernell, inwhich the dear little old lady made me laugh and cry again; but, I alsoheard from the good vicar, who was one of the worst correspondents inthe world, never putting pen to paper, save in the compilation of hisweekly sermons, except under the most dire necessity, or kindlycompulsion.
To receive an epistle from him was an event!
And, what do you think he wrote to me about? What, can you imagine,made dear little Miss Pimpernell's lengthy missive--scribed as it was inthe most puzzling of calligraphies--of so engrossing an interest, that Iread it again and again; valuing it more than all her previous budgetsof parish gossip put together, entertaining as I thought them before?
Once, twice, three times?
No, I do not believe you can guess what it was that gave me such delightin the "good news from home," sharp and shrewd though you may thinkyourself.
If you will take my advice, you had better treat it as a conundrum and"give it up."
Don't keep you in suspense, eh?
Well then, I will tell you--here goes.
It is a long story--too long to describe in detail; but the upshot of itwas that my kind friend the vicar, cognisant of the sincere affectionthat existed between my darling and myself, and knowing the sufferingthat had been caused to us both by the enforced silence which we had tomaintain towards each other, had interceded with Mrs Clyde on ourbehalf; and, what is more, had done so successfully!
There, fancy that! Don't you think I had sufficient reason to berejoiced?
Min and I were to be allowed to write to each other for a year--as"friends," a condition of intimacy to which her mother seemed to attacha good deal of point, as she had made it an obligatory proviso to ourcorrespondence. Mrs Clyde had, in addition to this, tacked on asweeping clause to the agreement, to the effect that, in case myprospects at the end of the year should not warrant my returning toEngland and claiming Min as my promised wife--prospects of a shortengagement and an easy settlement being also satisfactory--the wholenegotiation should fall to the ground and be considered null and void;we, reverting to our original and hopeless position of soi-disantstrangers or "friends" at a distance, and looking upon the interlude ofour letter-writing as if it had never occurred.
I did not give much thought, however, to this ultimatum.
I was too full of happiness at the idea of being allowed to correspondat once with my darling, and hear from her own dear self after the wearymonths that had passed since our separation. Why, I would be able totell her all my plans and hopes and fears, conscious that her sympathywould never fail to congratulate me in success; condole with me, cheerme, encourage me, in failure!
And then, her letters! What a feast they would be, coming like gratefuldew on the thirsty soil of my heart--sunshine succeeding to the Aprilshower of disappointment that lay on my memory. Her letters! Theywould be so many little Mins, visiting me to soothe my exile, andbringing me, face to face and soul to soul, in the spirit, with theirloving autotype at home!
I was nerved to action at once.
Before the day on which I received the welcome intelligence was one hourolder, I had sat me down and penned a hurried sheet of ecstatic raptureto my darling--the first number of our delightful little serial whichwas going to be regularly issued every fortnight until further notice intime for posting on mail days! I only just managed to catch theEuropean packet, so I could not write a very long letter on thisoccasion--as I had also to answer the vicar's and Miss Pimpernell'scommunications; but I said quite enough, I think, to let my darlingknow, that, although she had not been able to hear from me directlybefore, she had never been out of my thoughts.
You may be sure, too, that I did not forget to send a short note to MrsClyde, thanking her for her kindness to us both. Indeed, I _was_grateful to her; for serious consideration of my past conduct had led meto think that she might have only judged wisely in her opinion as towhat was the best course to adopt for her daughter's future happiness.Now, she had amply atoned for her former harshness, as I esteemed it, byher permission for our correspondence; and, notwithstanding that shenever responded to my note, I regarded her thenceforth in the light of afriend.
On reading over the vicar's letter after getting this happy businessconcluded, I saw--what had escaped my notice at first--that he had notbeen content with merely exerting his influence with Mrs Clyde for mybenefit. His good offices had gone much further. He had again spokenfor me to his patron, the bishop--who, you may recollect, was the meansof my getting that appointment to the Obstructor General's department;and my old friend wrote that they had great hopes of being able toprocure me a nice little secretaryship under Government, which wouldprobably bring me in enough income to marry upon.--Only think!
What do you say to that, eh?
It was true, though; or the vicar would never have expressed himself soconfidently.
He added, that it was best for me to remain where I was in themeanwhile, persevering in my resolution of living a steady life, andthat all might turn out well for me. He said, that my interests shouldnot be neglected in my absence; and, that there would be no use of myreturning until I got something certain.
His words, and this amicable settlement of matters between my darlingand myself, awoke a new life in me. I did not despair any longer. Ifelt that God had at last heard not only my prayers, but also those ofher, who, I knew, was praying for me at home; and that, if He had notappeared to grant my former petitions, the answer to them had beenwithheld for the all-wise purpose of making me look to Him moreearnestly than I might have done, if prosperity had rewarded my firsteffort! Before, I had trusted entirely to myself, never thinking ofappealing to His aid.
Now, I assure you, I could have struggled on to the death--even hadFortune still gone against me even in America; but, the fickle goddessalike altered her expression _there_, as circumstances improved for me_here_, so that, I was not called upon to exercise any further endurancein adversity.
My temporal troubles ended as my mo
re serious difficulties disappeared--all being in due accordance with the old adage which tells us that "itnever rains but it pours."
One morning, soon after hearing from England, as I was conning over theadvertisement columns of the _New York Herald_, I chanced on a noticewhich immediately caught my eye. An "editor" was wanted, without delay,at the office of one of the other leading-journals of the city, whereapplications were requested from all desirous of taking the "situationvacant." Who could this have reference to, but me?
I thought so, at all events, and "exploited" the supposition.
I did not allow the grass to grow under my feet, I can assure you.
I hurried off instanter to the address mentioned; and, althoughnewspaper men of the New World, unlike ours, are uncommonly early birds,getting up matutinally betimes so as to catch the typical worm--in whichrespect they resemble the entire business population of Transatlantica--I found, on my arrival, that I was the first candidate who had appearedon the scene.
It was a good omen, for your "live Yankee" likes "smartness;"consequently, I was sanguine of success.
You may, peradventure, be "surprised to hear" of my thinking myself fitfor such a post, having had such a slight acquaintance with literatureat home?
That did not dissuade me, however, in the least.
I have so great a confidence in myself, that I would really take thecommand of the Channel fleet to-morrow if it were offered to me--as EarlRussell proposed to do, when he was simple "Lord John;" and, as acivilian First Lord of the Admirality has since done, although hepossessed so little nautical knowledge that he might not have been ableto tell you the difference between a cathead and a capstan bar, or, howto distinguish a "dinghy" from the "second cutter." I suppose hethought, like Mr Toots, that, "it didn't matter!"
Conceit, you say?
Not at all.--Only self-reliance, one of the most available qualities forgetting on in the world; for, if a man does not believe in himself, howon earth can he expect other people to believe in him?
"Guess" I posed you there!--to use one of my patent Americanisms.
Besides, an American "editor," if you please, is of a very differentstamp to an English one. The "learned lexicographer"--and pedantic oldbore, by the way--Doctor Johnson, defined the individual in question tobe "one who prepares or revises any literary work for publication;" and,we generally associate the name with the supreme head of a journalisticstaff--he who is addressed indignantly as "sir" by those weak-mindedpersons who write letters to newspapers, and who signs himselffamiliarly "Ed." But, at the other side of the Atlantic, the term bearsa much wider application, extending to all "connected with the press"--from the "head cook and bottle-washer," down, nearly, to that bottleimp, the printer's "devil."
Political writers; correspondents, "special" and "local;" reviewers;reporters; stenographers, or "gallery" men; dramatic and musicalcritics; "paragraphists"--the new name for fire and murder manifolders,and other "flimsy" compilers; and, penny-a-liners:--each and all, are,severally and collectively, "editors," beneath the star-spangled bannerof equality and freedom.
Hence, there was not so much effrontery after all in my applying for theposition, eh?
The proprietor of the paper whom I now canvassed did not think so, atleast; and _he_ was the party chiefly concerned in the affair besidesmyself; so, I should like to know what _you've_ got to do with it?
He was a "Down-easter," a class of American I had already learntspecially to dislike--the ideal and real, "Yankee" of the States; but,he spoke to the point, as most of them do, without any waste of words ortravelling round the subject--more than can be said for some"Britishers" I know!
He was leaning over the counter of the advertisement office as Ientered, settling some calculation of greenbacks with the cashier, and"guessed," ere I had opened my mouth to explain my presence, that I hadcome about that "vacancy up-stairs."
"Been in the newspapering line before?" was his next interrogatory--avery pertinent one; for, Transatlantic journalists, as a rule, manage totry every trade and calling previously to sinking down to "literature"--similarly to some of those bookseller's "hacks" over here who mortgagethemselves to flash publishers when all other means of livelihood havefailed them.
When I answered "Yes" to this question, he did not wait to hear anythingfurther.
"Go up-stairs and try your hand," said he--"we'll soon see what you'llamount to, I reckon. We don't want any references here. We take a manas we find him. Guess I'll give you twenty-five dollars a week, anyhow,for one week sartain; and then, if we suit each other, we can raise thepile bimeby. Say, are you on?"
I "guessed" I _was_ "on;" and, went up-stairs to the paste-and-scissorspurlieus with much gusto.
It was a very good commencement for me--I who had nothing to blessmyself with before, for, the salary would pay my board and lodging twiceover. It was a beginning, at any rate; and, as we subsequently did"suit each other," my down-east friend behaved very fairly, keeping tohis promise of "raising my pile"--a synonym for increasing the weeklysum of "greenbacks" he allowed me for my labours. I had never anyreason to repent the bargain--nor did I.
The work I had to do was by no means arduous, although, in manyrespects, of a novel character. From the fact that my residence inAmerica had not been yet sufficiently extended to enable me to masterthe ins and outs of Transatlantic politics, the leading articles--or"editorials" as they are there styled--which I had to write were but fewin number, and entirely referring to social subjects of local interest;notwithstanding that I was occasionally allowed to enlighten theManhattan mind in the matter of European affairs. If my special"editor's" duties were thus light, I made up, however, for theirdeficiency, by enlarging upon the skeleton telegrams that came everynight across the ocean--"expanding news," so to speak--and by alsowriting, on the arrival of every steamer, while seated in the backparlour of the journal's office in New York, the most graphic specialcorrespondent's letters from Paris and London!
With regard to the telegrams. Half a dozen words only might come overthe cable, to say, for instance, that the late Emperor Napoleon, who wasthe then supposed arbiter of the Old World, had nominated Count somebodyor General that to a fresh portfolio; or that, the "scion of the houseof Hapsburgh" was suffering from tooth-ache; or that, John Bright wasgoing to Dublin to lecture "on Irish affairs."
My duties were such, that, when these telegrams appeared, in all theglories of print, the next morning, they had grown in such a miraculousway, that they took up half a yard of room, instead of but a few linesof type. Had you read them, you would have found their contentsthoroughly explanatory, entering into the most minute details--as to howNapoleon's change of ministers would affect "the situation;" how poorFrancis Joseph's attack of caries might, could and would raise again theghost of "the Eastern question;" how the advent of the great Radicalleader in Ireland would be the signal for a general Fenian uprising--and, so on.
I _only_ mention these cases in point, to describe the way in which Iclothed my skeletons with solid substrata of flesh and blood. Thepublic, you see, had only so much the more information for their money--which was, probably, just as reliable as if it had been really "wired"under the Atlantic! Nobody was the wiser; nobody, the sufferer by thedeception; so, what was "the odds" so long as they were correspondingly"happy"--in their ignorance?
My correspondent's letters were much more mendacious compositions.
I am quite ashamed to tell you what long columns of flagrant descriptionI was in the habit of reeling off--touching certain races in the Bois deBoulogne, soirees at the Tuileries, and working-men's "demonstrations"in Hyde Park--of which I was only an imaginative spectator!
I used to rake up all my old reminiscences of the boulevards and cafesand prados, giving details concerning the "petit-creves" and "cocottes,"the "flaneurs" and "grandes dames" of the once "gay" capital--gay nolonger; and, interspersing them with veracious reports respecting thelatest hidden thoughts of "Badinguet," and vivid descriptions of th
erespective toilets of the Empress Eugenie, Baroness de B---, Madame laComtesse C---, la belle Marquise d'E---, and all the other fashionableletters of the alphabet--chronicling the very latest achievements in"Robes en train" and "Costumes a ravir" of the great artist Worth. Eventhe men folk of America--"shoddy" of course--dote on those accounts ofEuropean toilets, which we never see given in any of our papers,excepting where the appearance of the Queen's Drawing-Room may bepassingly noted; or, when the _Morning Post_ exhausts itself over a"marriage in high life."
When my spurious intelligence was dated from London, I had to draw on afertile memory for popular rumours concerning revolutionary doctrine,and express a conviction that things were not going very well with JohnBull, politically or socially, hinting, also, at the prospect of anearly Irish rebellion--and, generally, manufacture similar "news" of akind that is peculiarly grateful to the jaundiced palates of ourEnglish-hating, jealousy-mad cousins over the way.
When Min came to know of this practice of mine, she did not like it.She wrote to me to say that it was acting untruthfully to pretend tocorrespond from a place when I was not actually there.
The habit was certainly reprehensible, I admit, as I admitted to her;but, then, what can a writer do if blessed with a vivid imagination?
Besides, I had a precedent in Goldsmith's _Citizen of the World_, youknow; and, as Byron says--
"--After all, what is a lie? 'Tis but The truth in masquerade; and I defy Historians, heroes, lawyers, priests, to put A fact without some leaven of a lie. The very shadow of true truth would shut Up annals, revelations, poesy, And prophecy--except it should be dated Some years before the incidents related."
Even on this side of the water, too, authors have frequently to usetheir pens as if they did not chance to possess a conscience--one of theworst possessions for any aspirant in the journalistic profession to beencumbered with, I may remark by the way!
You seem to be astonished at my observation? I will explain what I meanmore lucidly.
Supposing a journalist belongs to a Conservative organ, he must back upthe party, don't you see, at all hazards; and, although in his inmostheart he may have a faint suspicion that Mr Disraeli's popularity is onthe wane, it will not do for him to write his leading articles to thateffect exactly, eh? Oh, dear no! He has to assert, on the contrary,that "the masses" are loudly calling on _Punch's_ friend "Dizzy" to saveEngland from the utter extinguishment predicted by our dear Bismarck theother day at Versailles! While, should your potent pressman, on theother hand, wield the goose-quill of any ponderous or lively daily paperthat may advocate "Liberalism," and support the elect of Greenwichthrough thick and thin, do you think he gives you his candid opinionanent "the people's William" then in power, or respecting thatbamboozling Alabama business?
Not he!
Why, he knows, as well as you do, of the tergiversation that hasdistinguished the entire political career of the Risque-tout PrimeMinister; and yet, he has to speak of him as if he were the greateststatesman England has ever seen--hanging on his words as silver, whenknowing them all the while to be but clap-trap Dutch metal! Convinced,as he must be, that the Washington Treaty is one of the trashiest piecesof diplomacy that has ever disgraced a government, and that the wholecommunity has been dissatisfied at having to make the Americans a nicelittle present of three millions of money--in settlement of a claim forwhich neither the law of nations nor moral opinion held us responsible--he is obliged to argue that it is "a splendid triumph for the ministry,"and that the "public is overjoyed" to grease Uncle Sam's outstretchedpalm!
You know, the deeds of "our William" _must be_ bolstered up; lest"waverers" should waver off to the ranks of the "Constitutionalists,"and the "great Liberal party" come to grief at the next generalelection!
So, how can a journalist have a conscience? You see I'm right, and thatI had some excuse for my foreign correspondence of American origin.
I lay the whole blame of the transaction, however, on the narrowshoulders of my lanky "down-east" proprietor:--_he_ is the man to blamein the matter, not I!
After a time, I got tired of this work. I then left the journal onwhich I had been first engaged--with no hard feelings on either side,let it be mentioned--to join the literary staff of the _AuroraBorealis_, an organ of quite a different complexion, and of considerablenotoriety in the empire city, as it was famed for its bizarre sensationsand teeming news.
Here my labours became much more extended--my experiences and knowledgeof all shades of American life and character the more varied andcomplete in consequence.
Years before, when at school in England, I had made some acquaintancewith shorthand, in order to save me trouble in noting down lectures--forthe purpose of afterwards writing themes thereon, as we had to do atQueen's College, under "old Jack's" rule; and, having kept up theacquisition, I found it now of considerable use, for, it caused me to besent about much more than might otherwise have been the case--to reportthe speeches of prominent public men, whether they were "stumping theprovinces" throughout the Union, or basking in the blazing "bunkum" ofthe capital at Washington.
What an enormous amount of empty talk have I not had to attend to,noting it down carefully, as if it were of the most vital importancethat not a syllable should be lost!
I have listened, with amused ears often, and busy pencil, to thediabolical denunciations of our poor ill-used country, which have longsince made famous Senator Sumner--the greatest Anglophobist in theStates; hearkened to Horace Greeley's eager utterances, delivered inthin falsetto voice, wherein he urged, as he urged to the last,universal brotherhood and reconciliation between the North and South;heard Andrew Johnson, the whilom president and one of the ablest whoever occupied that position for ages, defend himself againstimpeachment--that had been promoted through the bitter animosity of ahostile faction--with the eloquence and legal ability of a Cicero andthe fearlessness of a Catiline:--
Reported Ben Butler, the ex-general, and now lawyer, of New Orleans,where he attached to himself an infamous notoriety, that will neverdesert him--"The Beast," as Brick Pomeroy, the western wit, calls him--pelting his prosy platitudes and muddy language at the New York"rowdies," who responded with a more practical shower, of dead cats, andeggs that had seen their better days:--reported Frederick Douglas, thetinted expounder of "advanced Ethiopianism," who regularly tells hisaudiences--of sympathising abolitioners--that he had been "bought forthree thousand dollars when a slave"--a precious deal more than he wasworth, to judge by his appearance--although, he somehow always forgetsto speak of the present price he asks, for his "vote and interest!"
Reported Miss Anna Dickenson, the female champion, of whom report saysthat she loveth the forementioned negro advocate even more as "a man"than as "a brother," and who blinks her eyes and rolls out her sentencesat such a rate that the one dazzle while the other appal the poorstenographer who may have to "follow" her:--reported Mesdames Susan BAnthony--please notice the "B"--and Cady Stanton, besides a host ofother strenuous assertors of "woman's rights" and male wrongs--inrespect of petticoat government, "free love," and various similaramiable, progressional theories that mark the advancement of ourTransatlantic sisterhood!--Yes, I have reported each and all of these asthey declaimed to their glory and satisfaction--and my disgust andimpatience, when their loquacity has extended to such a length that Ihave had to sit up all night in order to write out my shorthand notes intime for the waiting press--confound them!
Beyond this, I have "interviewed" politicians of every school andtemper--from Fernando Wood, the chief "wire puller" of swindling TammanyHall, up to doughty, tongue-tied General Grant, the "uselessslaughtering" commander of the northern forces during the civil war--having had the pleasure of learning from the former how "logs" are"rolled" in the furtherance of party ends; and, from the latter,although the information only came out in dribbled monosyllables inanswer to gently disguised questions, for the reticent warrior canhardly put two words of a sentence together, that he had been "bred up afarmer," and,
considered himself "more fit" for "that state of life"than any other--in which opinion, as he has never been publicly tried inthe calling, I cordially agree with him.
I have, likewise, "interviewed" prize-fighters, before they proceeded totake action in some "merry little mill;" Mormon prophets' wives, who hadcome east to purchase Parisian finery for the after delectation of Utaheyes, and the envy of other polygamous families not so favoured as they;Chinese missions, under the escort of a Burlinghame; condemnedcriminals, awaiting the fatal noose, and who wished to give their "lastspeech and confession" to the world; Japanese jugglers, who expressedtheir opinion of the States--the main object of every reporter's cross-examination generally--in a sort of phonographic language, too, in whichthe signs were feats of legerdemain and the "arbitrary characters," thebutterfly and basket tricks!
In fact, I "interviewed" everybody that was worth "interviewing," andwho could be got at to be "interviewed."
Seen life?
I should just think I had. I would not dream of fancying myself in aposition to give any trustworthy opinion on the subject of America andits people, unless I had thus mixed amongst all classes of the communityduring a lengthened stay in the country--although, mind you, your"working-man's friend," and "trades' union delegate," and "Alliance"teetotaller, and "liberal" peer, and disestablishing Nonconformist--tourists all of only three weeks' experience--think they can take in, inone glance, the whole extent of a continent embracing some hundredmillion square miles, understanding the entire working of the"institutions," of the "great republic" through travelling on a railroadfrom New York to Chicago!
As you will have noticed, reporters over there are set to very variedwork instead of being fixed in any one especial groove as in England.
On the paper, for instance, to which I was attached, all the staff used,regularly in turn, to do the dramatic criticism at the various theatres.We, also, had to report the sermons at all the many churches of variousreligious denominations on Sunday--whether they were Methodist,Episcopalian, Baptist, Lutheran, Roman Catholic, Unitarian,Universalist, or other which would tire you to even hear named; notomitting the "Spiritualists," "Agapemonites," and the "PeculiarPeople"--so, as was pointed out in an opposition paper at the time, we"took the devil and the deity on week days and Sundays alternately!"
On the whole, putting the higher class of Americans on one side--I referto those who mostly belong to the older families, in some instancestracing back their descent to the days of the Puritan Fathers, and who,having learnt culture and refinement abroad, rarely mix in public lifein the States--the general faith and morality of our Yankee "cousins"have never been so tersely described as in the "Pious Editor's Creed" ofthe _Biglow Papers_, which were written, as you are doubtless aware, byan American, too:--
"I du believe in special ways O' prayin' an' convartin'; The bread comes back in many days, An' buttered, tu, for sartin; I mean in preyin' till one busts On wut the party chooses, An' in convartin' public trusts To very privit uses!"
In one speciality, the New York journals, otherwise so inferior, set anexample which might be imitated to advantage by their Londoncontemporaries;--and, that is, in their news, the back-bone of anostensible "news"-paper.
I say nothing for their tone, which is essentially low--exhibiting, asit does, a tendency of rather pandering to the vitiated appetites of themob than seeking to raise the standard of public taste and publicmanners; nor, for their literary power and status, as their leadingarticles are mostly a collection of loose sentences, strung looselytogether without method or reasoning, and they frequently display suchcrass ignorance in the way of blunders in history and geography, aswould shock an English school-boy.
But then, their variety of intelligence from all parts of the world,telegraphic and specially written, in one morning's issue, is greaterthan you would gather in any one of our dailies in the consecutivenumbers of a week!
Take away the leading articles, foreign correspondence, andparliamentary intelligence of our Jupiters of the press; and what haveyou got left? Only some police reports and an attenuated column oftelegrams--solely from France and Germany, or some other part of Europe.
We have an Atlantic cable; what news of America do our newspaperspublish through its means? Simply the rise or fall in the value ofgold, and the price of Erie and other shares! We have a telegraph lineto India:--of course, we get general intelligence, of interest to allpeople, respecting our great eastern, empire? No, we only hear what"shirtings" and cotton goods generally realise at Calcutta; and, thecurrent rupee exchange of Bombay!
It is the same case with regard to Australia and elsewhere.
Although we have ample means of communication, the reading public knowno more now about what is going on in "Greater Britain" than it didbefore the days of steam and telegraphs--comparatively-speaking. TheAmericans, on the contrary, learn every morning the least incident thathas occurred in their remotest territory; besides, having European newsin abundance--the Atlantic cable being used to an extent which would,judging by their slight patronage of it, send an English newspaperproprietor into a fit!
We in London hardly keep pace with the the doings of our provincialswithin easy railway distance of the metropolis, much less take notice ofour dependencies:--the existence of places without the London radius isseldom brought home to the readers of our daily metropolitan papers,except some "Frightful Murder," or "Painful Accident," or "DreadfulCalamity" occurs, to fasten ephemeral attention on them for awhile!
Why, cannot we have such general news as the Americans have every day,in our papers, from all parts of the British empire, as well as that"foreign" intelligence, which is limited mostly to the adjacentcontinent?
The expense, you say?
Rubbish, my dear sir! Why, in the case of a war, no pains are spared tosend out good correspondents of position and ability; no money grudgedto bring home information, even if special modes of conveyance have tobe organised. Surely, in times of peace, a tithe of this expenditurewould not be wasted in making our colonies and the "mother" countrybetter acquainted with each other--to the future benefit of both?
I may be wrong, certainly, for we are all of us liable to error. Youknow--
"Different peoples has different opinions-- Some likes apples and some likes inions!"
Still, I think that English readers are probably just as anxious to knowwhat is going on in India, in Australia, the West Indies, and others ofour outlying settlements--where their relatives and friends, and ourcountry-men, are spreading our nation, our language, and ourcivilisation--as to hear that Monsieur Thiers has gone to Switzerland,or that Prince Esselkopf is taking "the waters" at Dullberg on theRhine! Such, is my opinion--at all events.
But, Min's letters, eh?
I'm just coming to them.