f 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.' If Hob, Nob, and Chittabob happen to be
in opposition to the politics of the newspaper which he adorns, he will
perhaps tell the truth about their respective performances. But he will
tell it without believing it. All his geese are swans--bless him!--even
when he won't admit it. The moral is that no man should be employed as
graphic reporter for more than one session. Then the public would begin
to learn the truth about St. Stephen's. Nor need the editors flinch
from such a consummation. They used to entertain a theory that it was
safest to have the productions at every theatre praised, in case any
manager should withdraw his advertisements. But there need be no such
fear in regard to St. Stephen's. That establishment does not advertise
itself in the press as a place of amusement. Why should the press
advertise it gratuitously?

For utility's sake, as well as for truth's, I would have the public
enlightened. Exposed to ruthless criticism, our Commons might be shamed
into an attempt at proficiency in the art of speaking. Then the
sessions would be comparatively brief. After all, it is on the nation
itself that falls the cost of lighting, warming, and ventilating St.
Stephen's during the session. All the aforesaid dufferdom, therefore,
increases the burden of the taxpayer. All those hum's and ha's mean so
many pence from the pockets of you, reader, and me.

THE NAMING OF STREETS

'The Rebuilding of London' proceeds ruthlessly apace. The humble old
houses that dare not scrape the sky are being duly punished for their
timidity. Down they come; and in their place are shot up new tenements,
quick and high as rockets. And the little old streets, so narrow and
exclusive, so shy and crooked--we are making an example of them, too.
We lose our way in them, do we?--we whose time is money. Our omnibuses
can't trundle through them, can't they? Very well, then. Down with
them! We have no use for them. This is the age of 'noble arteries.'

'The Rebuilding of London' is a source of much pride and pleasure to
most of London's citizens, especially to them who are county
councillors, builders, contractors, navvies, glaziers, decorators, and
so forth. There is but a tiny residue of persons who do not swell and
sparkle. And of these glum bysta