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from New York, via London, it being sent by one cable from New York to London, and thence back by another cable which lands in New Hampshire. Boston is frequently served with New York news via Montreal, and Albany via Pittsburgh and Buffalo, the route being via the Pennsylvania Railroad to Pittsburgh, thence across via Cleveland to Buffalo, and thence down the New York Central to Albany.

PUBLIC CRITICISM CONSIDERED.

WHILE the extravagant opinion cited in the opening paragraph of this article is not shared by the general American public, a good deal of well-founded criticism is indulged in. With such vast resources at command, why are newspapers so unreliable? Has the objector ever taken into account the satisfaction he derives daily from the perusal of pages of carefully prepared and entirely trustworthy news matter, touching home and foreign affairs, in his paper? The one or two objectionable articles-untruthful or personally offensive—are the dead flies in the ointment, and the whole is condemned. Editors as a rule are painstaking, and, while aiming to excite interest, hope to inspire confidence. But there is a sensational journalism, as there was formerly a personal and a brutal partizan journalism, that offends the more intelligent members of the community, which will have its day as did the other. Three or four years ago the papers contained despatches of a startling character from the mining regions of Pennsylvania and West Virginia and the oil regions of Ohio. Their frequency led to an investigation, and it was found that two or three unscrupulous young men had adopted a system of invention for a livelihood, and had deceived the editors for a time. And within a few months the newspaper market has been flooded with cable fables-piquant and readable, but fables none the less. Even several conservative English papers became eager patrons. They call it the "Americanizing" method of making papers. January 14, the London "Times" devoted one of its ponderous editorials to demolishing the American State Department, which had its inspiration in a faked cable despatch sent from this side. "We are even warned," said the "Times," "that the American Minister here is to be specially instructed to tell Lord Salisbury what President Harrison thinks of his conduct." After this astounding statement is revealed the motif of the fable: "At the same time, these rumors of agitation are not easy to reconcile with Mr. Blaine's eagerness to inform an op

1 Another instance showing the tendency of the "Times" towards sensational journalism was recently afforded in the publication of a romantic story describ.

portune interviewer that 'the Department of State has not been taken unawares,' that he had known for some time that judicial proceedings of some sort were contemplated by the Canadian authorities, and that the present step has not been a coup on the part of the British Government in the least." All of which would be interesting if true. But the Secretary of State says he saw no interviewer, and of course did not unseal his lips on the subject to any one. Therefore his "eagerness was evolved from the imagination of the opportune interviewer." To such baseness has the Thunderer descended.1

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A good "story" always finds a ready market, and doubtless this fact is usher to much that is objectionable and injurious. Again, lack of experience or faulty judgment may admit what ought to be excluded. Youth is impulsive, opinionated, and venturesome, and the staff of a newspaper is largely made up of young men. The possession of power is a great temptation to exercise it regardless of the effect produced. Since the days when Pendennis and his friends wrote for the newspapers and became popular, other young men have assumed impertinent airs and have tied up victims to their posts for the amusement of the public. This may be a defect of the system, but as long as readers of newspapers laugh, the comedy is pretty sure to be played. It is when wrong is intentionally done that one loses patience with the press. But even here "the antidote to the press is to be found in the press itself."

The whole responsibility for misinformation should not be charged upon the press, but partly upon those who, having a knowledge of the facts, when the public is concerned, refuse to divulge them. At such times it is the duty of the press to make public the information, even rumors, obtained in order to develop the truth through agitation. For instance, it is in the power of railroad officials to work a reform in this regard, by promptly communicating the truth to representatives of the press in cases of railroad accidents resulting in loss of life. The real facts are pretty sure to be known eventually, and, if given immediately, would prevent the publication of rumors calculated to excite the people unduly. This remark will apply to other interests of a public or semipublic character.

HOW SHALL THE PRESS BE REFORMED.

IN the discussions that have been had recently a wide diversity of opinion is noticeable as to the responsibility of the press and its re

ing Prince Bismarck at the feet of the Empress Frederick, praying her interposition to prevent his dismissal from office.

lations to society. Judicial authority has declared in favor of requiring every article to be signed with the name or initials of the writer. A senator has expressed the opinion that regulation through legislative enactment might be had without impairing the freedom of the press; and a writer of some distinction would use the power of the government through the press for the education of the people. His object is not the same as the senator's. He says:

Society may indeed, through its members, withdraw its support from an obnoxious press; but such action involves a trial of social force in which the respective press has all the advantage, even if it is not the medium of a sect, or party, or class, or the hampered tool of a clique, as most of them are. If, therefore, there is to be fair play, the vantage-ground must not be with

the one or the other; but there must be an organic authority somewhere that sees to it that neither society nor the press exercises its power arbitrarily and oppressively. Neither should have an unlimited monopoly; but neither should, on the other hand, be bound down to unlimited submission; and this free status we get, when we are just as much on our guard against men and things when they call themselves "the press," as when they are mere citizens, and at the same time give them their rights equally in

both conditions.

And the conclusion lies near, that there are things which somebody ought to compose and which somebody ought to publish; and with it goes the opposite perception, viz., that there are things which nobody should either write or publish. And these observations raise the question: Who is to be the authority to determine the issues raised by these social and political necessities? Who else but society, by the same organs which make, enforce, and execute all our laws?

We are, of course, aware that there is a public sentiment which denies the existence of these necessities, and asserts that no public authority ought to exercise such a power; but we beg simply to say, that it will be time enough to argue this proposition when somebody shall show us a human society that has not done to some extent these two things. We need only instance public notices, the town crier, public documents, the reports of public debates. We repeat, therefore, the only issue is: How shall these public wants be supplied? The most formidable, because most plausible, proposition in contravention of this view is the one that the press can be this authority to itself; and that it does not need even to be organized and subjected to self-regulation for this. might simply answer by asking: Why, then, has it not done it? But we prefer to point to the historic fact, that no institution which has to look for support, honor, or wealth to its public will tell to that public the truths which it needs, to be truly ethical. Each party organ abuses the other party, but does not expose the vices of its own. Where, then, is the disinterested action, the virtue, and

1 Hon. Charles Reemelin.

We

the wisdom to come from that is to give the press its higher tone? The press associations and conventions display inclinations in that direction; but their leading motive is the desire to make money and to rule. They embrace, moreover, only the press in the narrow newspaper sense, and cannot have full ethical interaction. Hear the press and all connected with it, give them full liberty to pursue their class as well as personal interest, but do not allow it to be the sole masterauthority in the land.

He would, if the press failed to do its own proper assaying, have the government supply deficiencies by the criterion that its work shall be beneficial to all. "The reports of our consuls from abroad, the bulletins of foreign and domestic markets, the telegrams of the Associated Press,' all these have one object, viz: to place society au fait on the subjects vital to their private and public conduct. In brief, do everything that shall relieve the republic of those most abject, as well as most dangerous, individuals that form their opinions by reading their party press and then vote a party ticket."

This opens up a wide field for speculation, and naturally leads us to consider, as having a part in that speculation, the capacity of the newspapers. It is doubtful if a dozen years ago any one dreamed that the next revolution in journalism would be to double the size of the papers, double the quantity and variety of matter printed, and reduce their price one-half at the same time. Have these changes really responded to a public demand? It is doubtful. Rather, a sharp competition and the ample facilities at the command of the press have brought about this result. A great variety of subjects are treated elaborately. There is such a bewildering diffuseness that the mind grows weary, and one recalls with regret the satisfaction with which the Scottish humorist, in the halcyon days of early journalism, scanned the advertisements of his newspaper —“ models o' composition, for every word's pay'd for, and that gies the adverteeser a habit o' conceese thocht and expression, better than a logic class." The frivolous character of much that is printed is calculated to create a distaste for more weighty subjects that would have an educating value. To this extent society is injured.

MORAL RESPONSIBILITY DIVIDED.

WE have thus traced the development of the press as a news-gatherer. We have noted its small beginning; its use as an instrument of party; its degradation as the mere representative of the personal ambition of a party chief; its still deeper degradation in suppressing the news, or stifling all discussion of the news. We have described also the remarkable changes that

have been made in the methods of producing a newspaper, growing out of changed conditions. Something has been gained and something lost. A greater degree of independence has certainly been gained, and in character corresponding with the advance of civilization.

On the other hand, on account of the change in the conditions of proprietorship, the work of the employees lacks something in feeling as they conform to the ideas of the directing head. Something of respect for and confidence in others has been lost. The "great man" has disappeared forever. The confidences reposed in the editor, the egotism and selfishness laid bare in his sanctum by statesmen and politicians, the revelations that reach him from the domain of society have taught him that all men have their weaknesses and frequently incline him to the unhappy belief that real greatness is a delusion. The first revelation of this is a shock, and its frequent recurrence deadens and too often makes the editor a cynic. This leads us to certain moral considerations which are of the highest importance because of the rapid ity of the growth of the press. We have seen that it is identified with all of the interests of man, and that it daily photographs, so to speak, the acts of the individual and of every people. In other words nothing is kept from public view. Nothing is kept from view save the real motive of human action, and in the absence of knowledge the ingenious reporter can, and too often does, supply a motive which may or may not be right. To the patron nothing seems to be omitted from the picture; but to us who are gravely discussing the subject this defect shows that the picture is not perfect, and gives rise to the painful reflection that it may be the means of gross injustice. If this ceases to be ephemeral and becomes a part of

history the wrong is deepened. A distinguished divine, eminent in theology and brilliant in speech, once said that "the newspaper hauls the rough marble out of which the historian may build eternal temples." The figure is appropriated from Lucian without credit, and adapted to this modern social force. It is of a kind to please, but is superficial. We ask, if the historian fail to discover the interior defects, will his work endure? If he do not separate the good and true from the wicked and false, will virtue be promoted?

Let

Good is sure to come out of the extended discussion of the relations of newspapers to society, if the public conscience be quickened thereby to respond when the press exposes wrongs committed against the public. journalists be held to a strict accountability; let them be reminded that their profession is one with high responsibilities which ought never to be lost sight of; but let those who sit in judgment upon the press impartially condemn other evils incident to modern social life, likewise having far-reaching effects. We might name several which have been exposed in the newspapers, but name only one; we refer to that legal practice that abets crime- that corrupts legislative bodies and counsels evasions of law enacted to promote the general welfare of society. If we despise the low arts of the political demagogue and the harmful work of the newsmonger, shall we not be brave and virtuous enough openly to condemn those who poison the morals of a community and bring the laws into contempt? Not the members of these two influential professions only, but men of all callings will find it to be as true to-day as in the time of Jeremy Taylor, that "a prosperous iniquity is the most unprosperous condition in the whole world.”

William Henry Smith.

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LIFE ON THE SOUTH SHOAL LIGHTSHIP.

N New South Shoal, South Shoal?

1, Nantucket, to the life-savers of No. 1, Nantucket, New

pitches and plunges, rears and rolls, year in and year out, twentyfour miles off Sankaty Head, Nantucket Island, with the broad ocean to the eastward, and rips and breakers to the westward, northward, and southward. No. 1, Nantucket, New South Shoal, is a lightship-the most desolate and dangerous station in the United States lighthouse establishment. Upon this tossing island, out of sight of land, exposed to the fury of every tempest, and without a message from home during all the stormy months of winter, and sometimes even longer, ten men, braving the perils of wind and wave, and the worse terrors of isolation, trim the lamps whose light warns thousands of vessels from certain destruction, and hold themselves ready to save life when the warning is vain. When vessels have been driven helplessly upon the shoals over which the South Shoal Lightship stands guard, her crew have not hesitated to lower their boat in seas which threatened every moment to stave or to engulf it, and to pull, often in the teeth of a furious gale, to the rescue of the shipwrecked, not only saving their lives but afterward sharing with them, often to their own great discomfort, such cheer as the lightship affords. Yet who ever heard of a medal being awarded

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Before we left Nantucket for the lightship I gleaned from casual remarks made by grizzled old salts who had heard of our proposed expedition that I might expect something different from a cruise under summer skies. The captain's watch of five men happened to be ashore on leave, and when I called on the captain and told him I had chartered a tug to take Mr. Taber and myself out to the lightship and to call for me a week later, he said, with a pleasant smile, "You've arranged to be called for in seven days, but you can congratulate yourself if you get off in seven weeks." As he gave me his flipper at the door he made this parting remark: "When you set foot on Nantucket again, after you 've been to the lightship, you will be pleased." Another old whaling captain told me that the loneliest thing he had ever seen at sea was a polar bear floating on a piece of ice in the Arctic Ocean; the next loneliest object to that had been the South Shoal Lightship. But the most cheering comment on the expedition was made by an excaptain of the Cross Rip Lightship, which is anchored in Nantucket Sound in full sight of land, and is not nearly so exposed or desolate a station as the South Shoal. He said very deliberately and solemnly, "If it were n't for the disgrace it would bring on my family I'd rather go to State's prison." I was also told of times when the South Shoal Lightship so pitched and rolled that even an old whaleman

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who had served on her seventeen years, and had before that made numerous whaling voyages, felt "squamish," which is the sailor fashion of intimating that even the saltiest old salt is apt to experience symptoms of mal de mer aboard a lightship. Life on a lightship therefore presented itself to us as a term of solitary confinement combined with the horrors of sea-sickness.

The South Shoal Lightship being so far out at sea, and so dangerous of approach, owing to the shoals and rips which extend all the way out to her from Nantucket, and which would be fatal barriers to large vessels, the trip can be made only in good weather. That is the reason the crew are cut off so long in winter from communication with the land. The lighthouse tender does not venture out to the vessel at all from December to May, only occasionally utilizing a fair day and a smooth sea to put out far enough just to sight the lightship and to report her as safe at her station. The tender is a little, black side-wheel craft called the Verbena, and is a familiar sight to shipping which pass through the Vineyard Sound; but during long months the crew of the South Shoal Lightship see their only connecting link between their lonely ocean home and their firesides ashore loom up only a moment against the wintry sky, to vanish again, leaving them to their communion with the waves and gulls, awakening longings which strong wills had kept dormant, and intensifying the bitterness of their desolation.

The day on which we steamed out of Nantucket Harbor on the little tug Ocean Queen, bound for the lightship, the sky was a limpid, luminous, unruffled blue, and the sea a succession of long, lazy swells; yet before we reached our destination we encountered one of the dangers which beset this treacherous coast. We had dropped the lighthouse on Sankaty Head and were eagerly scanning the horizon ahead of us, expecting to raise the lightship, when a heavy fog-bank spread itself out directly in our course. Soon we were in it. Standing on until we should have run our distance, we stopped and blew our whistle. The faint tolling of a bell answered us through the fog. Plunging into the mist in the direction from which the welcome sound seemed to come, we steamed for about half an hour and then, coming to a stop, whistled again. There was no answer. Signal after signal remained without reply. Again we felt our way for a while, and again whistled. This time we heard the bell once more, but only to lose it as before. Three times we heard it, and three times lost it, and, as the fog was closing in thick about us, it seemed hopeless for us to continue our search any longer at the risk of losing the opportunity of putting back to shore before nightfall and the possible com

ing up of a blow. Then, more than three hours after we had first heard the bell, it rang out to windward clearer and stronger than before. Then there loomed out of the fog the vague outlines of a vessel. There was a touch of the weird in this apparition. Flying mist still veiled it, and prevented its lines from being sharply defined. It rode over the waves far out at sea, a blotch of brownish red with bare masts; and the tide, streaming past it out of some sluice between the shoals, made it appear as if it were scurrying along without a rag set a Flying Dutchman, to add to the terrors of reefs and rips. The weirdness of the scene was not dispelled until we were near enough to read in bold white letters on the vessel's side, No. 1, Nantucket, New South Shoal. After groping around in the fog, and almost despairing of finding the object of our search, we felt, as we steamed up to the lightship, a wonderful sense of relief, and realized the feeling of joy with which the sight of her must inspire the mariner who is anxiously on the lookout for some beacon by which to shape his course. Two days later we had what was perhaps a more practical illustration of the lightship's usefulness. It was a hazy morning, and the mate was scanning the horizon with his glass. Bringing it to bear to the southward, he held it long in that direction, while a look of anxiety came over his face. Several of the crew joined him, and finally one of them said, “If she keeps that course five minutes longer she 'll be on the shoal." Through the haze a large three-masted schooner was discernible, heading directly for a reef to the southwest of us. She was evidently looking for the lightship, but the haze had prevented her from sighting us, although our sharp lookout had had his glass on her for some time. Then too, as the mate remarked with a slightly critical smile, "These captains feel so sure of their course that they always expect to raise us straight ahead." Suddenly there was evidence that she had sighted us. She swung around as swiftly as if she were turning upon a pivot. She had been lunging along in an uncertain way, but the sight of us seemed to fill her with new life and buoyancy. Her sails filled, she dashed through the waves with streaks of white streaming along each quarter like foam on the flanks of a race-horse, and on she came, fairly quivering with joy from keel to pennant. Such instances are of almost daily occurrence, and if we add to them the occasions- and they must run far up into the hundreds, if not into the thousands - when the warning voice of the fog-bell and the guiding gleam of the lamps have saved vessels from shipwreck, it seems as though the sailor must look upon the South Shoal Lightship as one of the guardian angels of the deep.

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