fallacies upon the weary world.

* * * * *

In order to substantiate further the proposition that the art of
journalism is the art of lending interest to people and events
intrinsically dull, let me draw attention to the treatment accorded by
editors to those rare trifles of information which by general agreement
are not in themselves dull. Such an item, a jewel of its kind, was the
following: I copy it as it was allowed to appear in an evening newspaper
justly renowned for enterprise, talent, and imagination, under date 16th
January, 1897:

"While walking in the Park at Tsarskoe Selo the Tsar beckoned to a
gardener. The man hastened to obey, but a guard, thinking he was running
up to attack the Emperor, shot him dead.

"His Majesty was deeply affected by the occurrence."

Observe the stark nakedness of it. There is no decorative treatment here,
no evidence of an attempt to impress upon the report the individuality of
the paper. The Editor rightly divined that the simple, splendid tragedy of
the event offered no opportunity for a display of his art. His art,
indeed, could have nothing to do with it. If all news were of a similar
quality, the art of journalism, as it exists at present, would instantly
expire, and a new art would arise to take its place, though what the
nature of that new art would be, it is hazardous to guess. One may,
however, assert that journalism in its highest development will only
thrive so long and so far as the march of events continues, in the eyes of
the majority, to be a dull, monotonous and funereal procession. The