ours: these are on occasions when the newspapers make special efforts.
Take the last two national party conventions. The fullness, the accuracy,
the vividness, with which their proceedings were reported in the leading
journals, were marvelous triumphs of knowledge, skill, and expense. The
conventions were so photographed by hundreds of pens, that the public
outside saw them almost as distinctly as the crowd in attendance. This
result was attained because the editors determined that it should be,
sent able men to report, and demanded the best work. But take an opposite
and a daily illustration of reporting, that of the debates and
proceedings in Congress. I do not refer to the specials of various
journals which are good, bad, or indifferent, as the case may be, and
commonly colored by partisan considerations, but the regular synopsis
sent to the country at large. Now, for some years it has been inadequate,
frequently unintelligible, often grossly misleading, failing wholly to
give the real spirit and meaning of the most important discussions; and
it is as dry as chips besides. To be both stupid and inaccurate is the
unpardonable sin in journalism. Contrast these reports with the lively
and faithful pictures of the French Assembly which are served to the
Paris papers.

Before speaking of the reasons for the public distrust in reports, it is
proper to put in one qualification. The public itself, and not the
newspapers, is the great factory of baseless rumors and untruths.
Although the newspaper unavoidably gives currency to some of these, it is
the great corrector of popular rumors. Concerning any event, a hundred
different versions and conflicting accounts are instantly set afloat.
These would run on, and become settled but unfounded beliefs, as private
whispered scandals do run, if the newspaper did not intervene. It is the
business of the newspaper, on every occurrence of moment, to chase down
the rumors, and to find out the facts and print them, and set the public