LIKE A GOOD DEED IN A NAUGHTY WORLD.
It has been a frightful, a disgusting summer. Since a Penny of Observation first began to appear in these columns Europe has been racked by every conceivable kind of political and economic disaster and eight million tons of rainwater have fallen on Worcestershire alone. The fear of being obliged to weep has been ever ubiquitous and present. Stockbrokers have gone snivelling to their offices. Leader-writers on The Times have sobbed themselves—and their readers—to sleep. Many a fat-stock show has ended in tears. We alone have kept the unsullied flag of nonsense flying. Bullied by our superiors, pestered by our subordinates, deceived in our type-writer, harassed by our telephone, misprinted, mis- represented, misconstrued, and suffering terribly from melancholia and catarrh, we have nevertheless stuck to our post. No subject has been too fatuous, no comment too irresponsible, to serve our purpose. Insufferably facetious, unbelievably inane, we have striven to bring a ray of callow, spurious sunshine into many a hard-pressed home, a gleam— if not of mirth, at least of healthy indignation—into the fast-glazing eye of the British rentier.
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