I admire
Demosthenes, for whom pebbles in the mouth were a means to the end of
oratory. I admire the Demosthenes de nos jours, for whom oratory is a
means to the end of pebbles in the mouth. But I desire that the
intelligent foreigner and the intelligent country cousin be not
disappointed when they visit the House of Commons. Hitherto, strangers
have expected to find there an exhibition of the art of speaking. That
is the fault partly of those reporters to whom I have paid a well-
deserved tribute. But it is more especially the fault of those other
`graphic' reporters, who write their lurid impressions of the debates.
These gentlemen are most wildly misleading. I don't think they mislead
you intentionally. If a man criticises one kind of ill-done thing
exclusively, he cannot but, in course of time, lower his standard.
Seeing nothing good, he will gradually forget what goodness is; and
will accept as good that which is least bad. So it is with the graphic
reporter in Parliament. He really does imagine that Hob `raked the
Treasury Bench with a merciless fire of raillery,' and that Nob `went,
as is his way, straight to the root of the subject,' and that
Chittabob `struck a deep note of pathos that will linger long in the
memory of all who heard him.
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