PREMIERS AT PLAY.
The widespread sympathy evoked by the Prime Minister's announcement of his intention to humanize No. 10 Downing Street (which at present, he says, " is simply a mere official machine " with " nothing homely about it ") has already taken a practical form. A number of books have been presented to the library in which tired statesmen will spend their leisure hours. Misgivings, we confess, assailed us when we heard what books they were, for we had understood their purpose to be that of relaxation. The Sidney Webbs' Trade Unionism may, for all we know, provide a feast of fun for young and old ; perhaps there is many a hearty laugh to be had out of Cobden's Life. We cannot say, for we have not read these books. But of the other publications on the list we affirm without hesitation that a stodgier mass of reading matter we never came across. We looked in vain for the imperishable names of Wodehouse and of Wallace. They are not there. Literature, at No. 10, is to be a soporific, not a tonic. Nor, apparently, is provision being made for diversions other than literary. We hear no word of ping-pong, nor of darts, nor of those delightful parlour games for two or more. But we scarcely think that this last deficiency will go unremedied for long. We have in mind several members of Mr. MacDonald's own party from whom a gift of " Snakes and Ladders," or a small box of Drawing-room Fireworks, would be as appropriate as it would be acceptable : perhaps even more so.
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