I am inclined to think that the reporting department is the weakest in the American newspaper, and that there is just ground for the admitted public distrust of it.  Too often, if a person would know what has taken place in a given case, he must read the reports in half a dozen journals, then strike a general average of probabilities, allowing for the personal equation, and then—­suspend his judgment.  Of course, there is much excellent reporting, and there are many able men engaged in it who reflect the highest honor upon their occupation.  And the press of no other country shows more occasional brilliant feats in reporting than ours:  these are on occasions when the newspapers make special efforts.  Take the last two national party conventions.  The fullness, the accuracy, the vividness, with which their proceedings were reported in the leading journals, were marvelous triumphs of knowledge, skill, and expense.  The conventions were so photographed by hundreds of pens, that the public outside saw them almost as distinctly as the crowd in attendance.  This result was attained because the editors determined that it should be, sent able men to report, and demanded the best work.  But take an opposite and a daily illustration of reporting, that of the debates and proceedings in Congress.  I do not refer to the specials of various journals which are good, bad, or indifferent, as the case may be, and commonly colored by partisan considerations, but the regular synopsis sent to the country at large.  Now, for some years it has been inadequate, frequently unintelligible, often grossly misleading, failing wholly to give the real spirit and meaning of the most important discussions; and it is as dry as chips besides.  To be both stupid and inaccurate is the unpardonable sin in journalism.  Contrast these reports with the lively and faithful pictures of the French Assembly which are served to the Paris papers.

Before speaking of the reasons for the public distrust in reports, it is proper to put in one qualification.  The public itself, and not the newspapers, is the great factory of baseless rumors and untruths.  Although the newspaper unavoidably gives currency to some of these, it is the great corrector of popular rumors.  Concerning any event, a hundred different versions and conflicting accounts are instantly set afloat.  These would run on, and become settled but unfounded beliefs, as private whispered scandals do run, if the newspaper did not intervene.  It is the business of the newspaper, on every occurrence of moment, to chase down the rumors, and to find out the facts and print them, and set the public mind at rest.  The newspaper publishes them under a sense of responsibility for its statements.  It is not by any means always correct; but I know that it is the aim of most newspapers to discharge this important public function faithfully.  When this country had few newspapers it was ten times more the prey of false reports and delusions than it is now.