An' when I gets my 'Daily' down from Lunnun, an' sees harf a page given up to a kind o' poster about Pills, an' another harf a page praisin' up somethin' about Tonics, I often sez to myself: 'Look 'ere, Twitt! What are ye payin' yer pennies out for?
For a Patent Pill or for News?
For a Nervy Tonic or for the latest pol'tics ?' An' myself--me--Twitt--answers an' sez--'Why ye're payin' for news an' pol'tics, of course!' Well then, I sez, 'Twitt, ye aint gettin' nothin' o' the sort!' An' t' other day, blow'd if I didn't see in my paper a long piece about ''Ow to be Beautiful'-- an' that 'adn't nothin' to do wi' me nor no man, but was just mere gabble for fool women.

''Ow to be Beautiful,' aint news o' the world!" "No,"-- said Reay--"You're not intended to know the news of the world.
News, real news, is the property of the Stock Exchange.

It's chiefly intended for company gambling purposes.

The People are not expected to know much about it.

Modern Journalism seeks to play Pope and assert the doctrine of infallibility.