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〃Brooding over love troubles which she has hitherto refused to divulge under the most grilling fusillade of rapid…fire questions shot at her by the best brains of the New York police force； Miss Mary De Forrest； a handsome brunette thirty…six inches around the hips； employed as a parlor maid in the residence of Mr。 Spudd Bung； a well…known clubman forty…two inches around the chest； was arrested yesterday by the flying squad of the emergency police after having； so it is alleged； put four ounces of alleged picrate of potash into the alleged coffee of her employer's family's alleged breakfast at their residence on Hudson Heights in the most fashionable quarter of the metropolis。 Dr。 Slink； the leading fashionable practitioner of the neighbourhood who was immediately summoned said that but for his own extraordinary dexterity and promptness the death of the whole family； if not of the entire entourage； was a certainty。 The magistrate in committing Miss De Forrest for trial took occasion to enlarge upon her youth and attractive appearance： he castigated the moving pictures severely and said that he held them together with the public school system and the present method of doing the hair； directly responsible for the crimes of the kind alleged。〃
Now when you read this over you begin to feel that something big has happened。 Here is a man like Dr。 Slink； all quivering with promptness and dexterity。 Here is an inserted picture； a photograph； a brick house in a row marked with a cross （＋） and labelled 〃The Bung Residence as。 it appeared immediately after the alleged outrage。〃 It isn't really。 It is just a photograph that we use for this sort of thing and have grown to like。 It is called sometimes：〃Residence of Senator Borah〃 or 〃Scene of the Recent Spiritualistic Manifestations〃 or anything of the sort。 As long as it is marked with a cross （＋） the reader will look at it with interest。
In other words we make something out of an occurrence like this。 It doesn't matter if it all fades out afterwards when it appears that Mary De Forrest merely put ground allspice into the coffee in mistake for powdered sugar and that the family didn't drink it anyway。 The reader has already turned to other mysteries。
But contrast the pitifully tame way in which the same event is written up in England。 Here it is：
SUBURBAN ITEM
〃Yesterday at the police court of Surbiton…on…Thames Mary Forrester； a servant in the employ of Mr。 S。 Bung was taken into custody on a charge of having put a noxious preparation； possibly poison； into the coffee of her employer's family。 The young woman was remanded for a week。〃
Look at that。 Mary Forrester a servant？
How wide was she round the chest？ It doesn't say。 Mr。 S。 Bung？ Of what club was he a member？ None； apparently。 Then who cares if he is poisoned？ And 〃the young woman！〃 What a way to speak of a decent girl who never did any other harm than to poison a club man。 And the English magistrate！ What a tame part he must have played： his name indeed doesn't occur at all： apparently he didn't enlarge on the girl's good looks； or 〃comment on her attractive appearance；〃 or anything。 I don't suppose that he even asked Mary Forrester out to lunch with him。
Notice also that； according to the English way of writing the thing up； as soon as the girl was remanded for a week the incident is closed。 The English reporter doesn't apparently know enough to follow Miss De Forrest to her home （called 〃the De Forrest Residence〃 and marked with a cross； ＋） 。 The American reporter would make certain to supplement what went above with further information of this fashion。 〃Miss De Forrest when seen later at her own home by a representative of The Eagle said that she regretted very much having been put to the necessity of poisoning Mr。 Bung。 She had in the personal sense nothing against Mr。 Bung and apart from poisoning him she had every respect for Mr。 Bung。 Miss De Forrest； who talks admirably on a variety of topics； expressed herself as warmly in favour of the League of Nations and as a devotee of the short ballot and proportional representation。〃
Any American reader who studies the English Press comes upon these wasted opportunities every day。 There are indeed certain journals of a newer type which are doing their best to imitate us。 But they don't really get it yet。 They use type up to about one inch and after that they get afraid。
I hope that in describing the spirit of the English Press I do not seem to be writing with any personal bitterness。 I admit that there might be a certain reason for such a bias。 During my stay in England I was most anxious to appear as a contributor to some of the leading papers。 This is； with the English； a thing that always adds prestige。 To be able to call oneself a 〃contributor〃 to the Times or to Punch or the Morning Post or the Spectator； is a high honour。 I have met these 〃contributors〃 all over the British Empire。 Some； I admit； look strange。 An ancient wreck in the back bar of an Ontario tavern （ancient regime） has told me that he was a contributor to the Times： the janitor of the building where I lived admits that he is a contributor to Punch： a man arrested in Bristol for vagrancy while I was in England pleaded that he was a contributor to the Spectator。 In fact； it is an honour that everybody seems to be able to get but me。
I had often tried before I went to England to contribute to the great English newspapers。 I had never succeeded。 But I hoped that while in England itself the very propinquity of the atmosphere； I mean the very contiguity of the surroundings； would render the attempt easier。 I tried and I failed。 My failure was all the more ignominious in that I had very direct personal encouragement。 〃By all means；〃 said the editor of the London Times； 〃do some thing for us while you are here。 Best of all； do something in a political way； that's rather our special line。〃 I had already received almost an identical encouragement from the London Morning Post； and in a more qualified way from the Manchester Guardian。 In short； success seemed easy。
I decided therefore to take some simple political event of the peculiar kind that always makes a stir in English politics and write it up for these English papers。 To simplify matters I thought it better to use one and the same incident and write it up in three different ways and get paid for it three； times。 All of those who write for the Press will understand the motive at once。 I waited therefore and watched the papers to see if anything interesting might happen to the Ahkoond of Swat or the Sandjak of Novi Bazar or any other native potentate。 Within a couple of days I got what I wanted in the following item； which I need hardly say is taken word for word from the Press despatches：
〃Perim； via Bombay。 News comes by messenger that the Shriek of Kowfat who has been living under the convention of 1898 has violated the modus operandi。 He is said to have torn off his suspenders； dipped himself in oil and proclaimed a Jehad。 The situation is critical。〃
Everybody who knows England knows that this is just the kind of news that the English love。 On our side of the Atlantic we should be bothered by the fact that we did not know where Kowfat is； nor what was the convention of 1898。 They are not。 They just take it for granted that Kowfat is one of the many thousand places that they 〃own；〃 somewhere in the outer darkness。 They have so many Kowfats that they cannot keep track of them。
I knew therefore that everybody would be interested in any discussion of what was at once called 〃the Kowfat Crisis〃 and I wrote it up。 I resisted the temptation to begin after the American fashion； 〃Shriek sheds suspenders；〃 and suited the writing； as I thought； to the market I was writing for。 I wrote up the incident for the Morning Post after the following fashion：
〃The news from Kowfat affords one more instance of a painful back…down on the part of the Government。 Our policy of spineless supineness is now reaping its inevitable reward。 To us there is only one thing to be done。 If the Shriek has torn off his suspenders he must be made to put them on again。 We have always held that where the imperial prestige of this country is concerned there is no room for hesitation。 In the present instance our prestige is at stake： the matter involves our reputation in the eyes of the surrounding natives； the Bantu Hottentots； the Negritos； the Dwarf Men of East Abyssinia； and the Dog Men of Darfur。 What will they think of us？ If we fail in this crisis their notion of us will fall fifty per cent。 In our opinion this country cannot stand a fifty per cent drop in the estimation of the Dog Men。 The time is one that demands action。 An ultimatum should be sent at once to the Shriek of Kowfat。 If he has one already we should send him another。 He should be made at once to put on his suspenders。 The oil must be scraped off him； and he must be told plainly that if a pup like him tries to start a Jehad he will have to deal with the British Navy。 We call the Shriek a pup in no sense of belittling him as our imperial ally but because we consider that the present is no time for half words and we do not regard pup as half a word。 Events such as the present； rocking the Empire to i