exactly the scandalous kind of thing which "Householder's" butler was asked to supply, except that the precious news offered to me was to be gathered by "quite an army of girl friends in the best of the various English society sets." I was asked as to what rates the American newspapers would pay for such material. Enclosed is the name and address of the writer of that letter for comparison with the name supplied by "Householder," but not for publication.

Although some of the American newspapers undoubtedly have printed such matter, in common with papers of the same class in other countries, it is only fair to point out that the American Press is not, as a whole, given to this sort of thing-as one might conclude from your editorial article. If the name I send you corresponds with the name already in your possession, it would indicate clearly, too, that this plan for gathering backstairs gossip did not originate with any American editor, and had not at the time of writing to me found any encouragement. As it might easily be gathered from the correspondence and the comments thereon that this particularly obnoxious specimen of scandal-mongering had its origin in America, I earnestly hope that you will give this letter publicity, and will also clear the more dignified portion of the American Press from generalizations based on the misdeeds of those less scrupulous.

"Sciatica" writes:

It occurs to one to wonder (on reading the correspondence under the above heading) why any one should be surprised that scandal such as "Harriet" refers to, if discussed round the dining table, should find its way through the housekeeper's room or the butler's pantry to newspapers of a certain type in England or the States; but I am afraid that in these days one ought not to be too sure that those are the only channels of communication, and thatsometimes at least one must look for the guilty party outside the ranks of what one of the correspondents calls the "sneaks behind the chair."

I think the shade of one "Decimus

Junius Juvenalis" (commonly called "Juvenal") has cause for complaint, in that a warning which he uttered nearly 2,000 years ago has been so entirely overlooked, or forgotten by the present generation, although his words have rather gained than lost force during the interval that has elapsed.

Let me quote what he says from an English translation before me, which I am afraid has been used as a "crib" by unscrupulous youth of a former generation. In addressing his friend Corydon* he says

"O Corydon, Corydon, do you think the actions of the rich can be unknown? If the servants shut their mouths, the very beasts, the dogs, the posts, the marble pillars will speak out. Shut up the windows, draw the curtains close, bar the doors, put out all the lights, let all be hush, let no soul lie near; what the rich man does in the dark morning at 3 will be the talk of the next tavern before day; there you will hear the lyes raised by the steward, the master cook, the butler of the family."

*"O Corydon, Corydon, secretum divitis ullum," &c. (Satire IX., line 102.)

"M.L.A." writes:

are

The thanks of all classes due to you for your exposure and ruthless denunciation of Harriet's "kitchen gossip." But may I suggest that the upper classes, or at least a section of them, are largely responsible for a deal of foolish chatter in connection with their affairs? In some families there seems to be no longer any desire for privacy, and I suspect many of them keep on their staff a professional photographer.

Let any reader look at an illustrated weekly paper and he will find proof of what I say. Last season genuine sportsmen were ashamed of a series of pictures showing dukes, earls, and their various guests, and even their small boys, on the moors posing in shooting attitudes, with bland smiles but possibly empty bags. Even the nursery is invaded to provide copy, and it is perfectly sickening at Eton and Oxford to see in the windows photographs of youths in various costumes

"posing." All this is not done without the knowledge and consent of these various persons.

With Royal personages we can understand all this. It is the penalty they pay, the "fierce light" that must always beat upon them.

The Times.

One other point. I travel a great deal in America, and I never found gossip concerning the upper classes in this country interests anybody there. They have always on hand a large supply of local material.

The thanks of the public are due to our correspondent "A Householder," and to his butler, who handed over to him the abominable letter which, in the general interest, we print in another column. The letter is a complete revelation of a system, the existence of which has often been suspected but never so fully exposed. It will shock and disgust every decent person, and especially those of the same sex with the debased journalist who wrote the letter. To this point has come, in the hands of the worst kind of American journalists, the art of "society" reporting.

Some sixty years ago, as may be read in the memoirs of the time, a great outcry was made because an American newspaper writer, with good credentials, one N. P. Willis, published some details of private parties to which he had been admitted. That was in the infancy of the world. We have long outgrown its conditions. The poor man had dined with the great, and the great henceforth turned their backs on him. It does not turn its back upon "Harriet," for there has never been, as she well knows, any chance of her being received by them. So she follows a more excellent way. She establishes a market for news, buys it from the butler or the lady's maid, and settles by monthly cheques. An admirable business woman! But she goes further. She organizes a regular secret service. She turns her spy into a "centre," as they used to say in the old Fenian days, and bids

him get reports from his friends; and even-though happily most of these are foreigners, not likely to be good reporters-from the waiters at fashionable hotels. Thus, she hopes, there will be forthcoming a constant and copious supply of news about the doings, the movements, the clothes, the sayings, of every man and woman in the charmed circle in which Chicago, or Denver, or San Francisco is taking an observant interest.

The story and the letter throw a lurid light upon the tastes, the ideals, and the standards of life which flourish in a modern democracy, and which, we regret to say, are fostered by a democratic Press. The heirs of all the ages are thus taught every morning and evening to interest themselves in tittle-tattle about a world with which they have nothing in common. and to cultivate a snobbishness of which Thackeray never dreamed. What a chance for a new and a fiercer Thackeray to make the readers of this tainted stuff thoroughly ashamed of themselves! For they know now, if they did not before, that it is tainted. It is bought with the price of corruption. It is got by means deliberately designed to violate the most elementary of social rights-the right to preserve one's privacy. Money is lavished to break down the confidence between masters and servants, and to change "the constant service of the antique world" into a habit of hypocrisy, which sells secrets behind one's

back. An odious state of things indeed. Surely something could be done to stop it if the respectable American newspapers would take the matter

The Times.

up, and expose at once the demoralizing nature of the news purveyed, and the detestable methods of the purveyors.

It is a long time since the "Times" had an opportunity of coming out strong in the style of that immortal journal which Byron described as "My grandmother's Review the British." The "Times" is shocked at the discovery that the servants of the upper class are bribed by some newspapers to supply scandal, or at all events gossip, which is dressed by able editors and served hot and strong to the millions of vulgar, silly, and prurient toilers, whose chief amusement is to read about the vices and follies of their betters. Harriet Churchill is the journalistic name of the "dedecorum pretiosus emptor," who dwells at Birmingham, and gathers her wares from all quarters, from "girl friends," from valets, chambermaids, ladies' maids, and other sources not mentioned. The fact that Churchill, who may be a man or a woman, acts for an American news syndicate gives the "Times" an opening to address a lecture to the American press on the vileness of pandering to a low taste by means the most dishonorable. The impudence of this homily is only equalled by its insincerity. The letter to the butler, and the names of the people about whom scandal was required were only published, we are editorially informed, after careful deliberation. Somebody on the editor's staff must be perfectly aware that there are at least a dozen weekly journals in the metropolis alone which live by the purveyance of personal gossip. We need not give the names of these weeklies, most

of which are what is called ladies' papers, and contain besides the fashion plates little else but details of the daily doings of those who are supposed to be "smart." We will mention two, the ablest, the most successful and the best conducted of them all. Nobody will question the statement that Mr. Labouchere's knowledge of human nature is, from the cynical point of view, unequalled. Some thirty years ago "Truth" was founded upon the correct assumption that the kind of news which interests most men and all women is how many lumps of sugar the Princess puts in her tea, or how many cigars the Prince smokes in the course of the day. Mr. T. G. Bowles, the founder and first editor of "Vanity Fair," discovered the same fact, and these gentlemen have had many imitators, unfortunately without their brains. Why should the "Times" lecture the Americans on doing what we do ourselves? It is true that the personal gossip is more coarsely served in America than in English papers, be-f cause the taste of American democracy is coarser than that of the English public. It is also probable that the American article is more libellous, because the law of libel is a dead letter in the United States. But the difference between the American and the British press in the matter of personalities is only one of degree, which does not justify our leading daily organ in assuming an air of moral superiority over our Transatlantic cousins. The heading of the leading article in the

notorious candidate for Parliament, who was afterwards elected, was denounced at the City end of the paper as a shady promoter and shark, while at the society end of the paper there appeared a full-length cartoon of him described in fulsome terms as "the fishermen's friend" etc. Why, even the "Times" has started a personal column, and the editor can hardly be so ignorant of the managerial department as not to know that Mrs. Sniffington Smith's arrival at 101 Belgrave Square is a piece of news whose insertion is handsomely paid for. The whole unpleasant question of personal journalism is enveloped in our national atmosphere of snobbery and hypocrisy. The very people who complain of their privacy being invaded have invited the photographer to snapshot their party of guns. The number of people who are high enough or celebrated enough to have their movements recorded, without their consent or without paying for it, is very small, and even they, The Saturday Review.

the great ones of the earth, like the advertisement. Mr. Gladstone, as is. well known, loved the minute record of his day in the prints. We once visited Mr. Cecil Rhodes at his hotel and found him seated at a table, with head on hands, devouring a pile of newspaper cuttings. Even the arena of politics has been invaded by personal journalism. For many years Sir Henry Lucy enjoyed a monopoly of the political article which dwelt meticulously on Mr. Balfour's spats or Mr. Gladstone's linen. But now all the papers have a House of Commons article which devotes quite as much space to the looks and dress as to the words of the orator. The supply is always an answer to the demand. The millions of newspaper readers are vulgar and silly, "and there's an end on't." It may be useless to lament a national infirmity. But we might at least restrain ourselves from mounting the pulpit of national insincerity.

The butler's preparations for dinner were completed, the silver drawn up in position, the wine efficiently organized, and Mr. Gleave himself, standing in front of his pantry fire in the attitude inherited by his lordship from a remote ancestry, awaited the event with the composure of a general assured of victory. Now and again he gave a finishing touch to his accoutrements, but he knew in his heart that perfection could do no more, and the touches were but the last fond look of a beauty in ber glass.

For the most part, he gazed at the silver coffee-service with benevolent satisfaction, listening for the bells that would presently announce the arrival of the guests.

There was a gentle tap at the door. and one of the housemaids entered. "Letter for you, Mr. Gleave," she said.

"How often must I tell that postman," he sighed, "that my business letters must reach me by the first post! Otherwise, they incommode the family."

"P'raps it ain't no business letter," said the housemaid; "it looks interestin'."

"Suttainly it's a female's handwriting," answered the butler, and, sniffing the envelope delicately, he said "Yus!" and opened it, while Sarah turned the coffee-pot upside down, and adjusted her cap by the polished surface at the bottom.

"Sarah," said the butler, after an om