Hear, Land o' Cakes, and brither Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk to Johnie Groat's;-
If there's a hole in read more

Hear, Land o' Cakes, and brither Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk to Johnie Groat's;-
If there's a hole in a' your coats,
I rede you tent it:
A chield's amang you takin notes,
And, faith, he'll prent it.

The editor sat in his sanctum, his countenance furrowed with
care,
His mind at the bottom of business, read more

The editor sat in his sanctum, his countenance furrowed with
care,
His mind at the bottom of business, his feet at the top of a
chair,
His chair-arm an elbow supporting, his right hand upholding his
head,
His eyes on his dusty table, with different documents spread.

Ask how to live? Write, write, write, anything;
The world's a fine believing world, write news.

Ask how to live? Write, write, write, anything;
The world's a fine believing world, write news.

Burke said there were Three Estates in Parliament; but, in the
Reporter's gallery yonder, there sat a fourth estate read more

Burke said there were Three Estates in Parliament; but, in the
Reporter's gallery yonder, there sat a fourth estate more
important far than they all.

The great art in writing advertisements is the finding out a
proper method to catch the reader's eye; without read more

The great art in writing advertisements is the finding out a
proper method to catch the reader's eye; without which a good
thing may pass over unobserved, or be lost among commissions of
bankrupt.

There aren't any embarrassing questions -- only embarrassing answers.

There aren't any embarrassing questions -- only embarrassing answers.

None of our political writers . . . take notice of any more than
three estates, namely, Kings, Lords read more

None of our political writers . . . take notice of any more than
three estates, namely, Kings, Lords and Commons . . . passing by
in silence that very large and powerful body which form the
fourth estate in the community . . . the Mob.

Only a newspaper! Quick read, quick lost,
Who sums the treasure that it carries hence?
Torn, trampled read more

Only a newspaper! Quick read, quick lost,
Who sums the treasure that it carries hence?
Torn, trampled under feet, who counts thy cost,
Star-eyed intelligence?

You (reporters) should have printed what he meant, not what he said.

You (reporters) should have printed what he meant, not what he said.