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said that the Fourth Estate itself is not nearly so powerful as Bumble; and as much ludicrous misunderstanding appears to prevail regarding the subject, it may be as well to amplify the assertion. We know that the Press is continually boasting that it leads public opinion, and we are pleasantly called upon to pretend or even endeavour to think that this leading is away from Bumbleism into the Promised Land of New Ideas. It is a good joke; and Bumble can afford to buy the journals in thousands and tens of thousands, and chuckle over it with happy equanimity. What fun that the journalists, of whom about ninety-nine of every hundred are born Bumbles, but weakly and afflicted with incontinency of their dulness, and of whom about ten times ten of every hundred mainly or wholly depend for their livelihood upon the favour of their stronger brother Bumbles, should affect freedom from and enmity to Bumbleism! The joke is enormously useful to Bumbledom. We poor people, for instance, are getting more and more dissatisfied with things as they are, and resolve to emigrate for the Promised Land of New Ideas: forthwith half the Bumble trumpeters of the Press open their throats of brass, and put themselves in our van, blaring: "We, and we only, can and will lead you out of this stupid old Bumbledom into the Canaan flowing with milk and honey!" And in case we should doubt these fair promises, the opposition moiety of the trumpeters open their throats of brass, screaming dolorous, wrathful, desperate: "The poor dear ignorant people are being led away from the venerable sanctuary of Bumbleism, from the paternal care of Bumbledom, to perish in the Wilderness of Sin and New Ideas!" This testimony, wrung from the rage of the antagonists, kills our last