peaceful way, has to perform daily a mental feat almost equal in
complexity to that of the warrior. Public opinion usually has strong
general tendencies; but there are hundreds of cross-currents, and the
editor must allow for all. Suppose that a public agitation is begun,
and that a great national movement seems to be in progress; then the
editor must be able to tell instinctively how far the movement is
likely to be strong and lasting. If he errs seriously, and regards an
agitation as trivial which is really momentous, then his journal
receives a blow which may cripple its influence during months. One
great paper was ruined some twenty years ago by a blunder, and about
one hundred thousand pounds were deliberately thrown away through
obstinate folly. The perfect editor, like the great general, seizes
every clue that can guide him, and makes his final movement with alert
decision. No wonder that the work of editing wears men out early. The
great _Times_ editor, Mr. Delane, went about much in society; he
always appeared to be calm, untroubled, inscrutable, though the
factions were warring fiercely and bitterness had reached its height.
He scarcely ever missed his mark; and, when he strolled into his
office late in the evening, his plan was ready for the morrow's
battle. At five the next morning his well-known figure, wrapped in the
queer long coat, was to be seen coming from the square; he might have
destroyed a government, or altered a war policy, or ruined a
statesman--all was one to him; and he went away ready to lay his plans
for the next day's conflict. Delane's power at one time was almost
incalculable, and he gained it by unerringly finding out exactly what
England wanted. England might be wrong or right--that was none of
Delane's business; he cared only to discover what his country wished
for from day to day. An amazing function is that of an editor.

Then we have the leader-writer. The British public have decided that
their newspaper shall furnish them daily with three or four little
addresses on various topics of current interest; and these grave or
gay sermons are composed by practised hands who must be ready to write
on almost any subject under the sun at a minute's notice. In a certain
class of old-fashioned literature the newspaper-writer is represented
as a careless, dissipated Bohemian, who lived with rackety
inconsequence. That tribe of writers has long vanished from the face
of the earth. The last of th