The Twelfth of August, the date of this week's publication, not to speak of the shooting of grouse, has long been reckoned a yearly time-mark of the holiday season for Britons of the upper and middle classes. Those who do not go to the moors to shoot grouse may go to the mountains, of Scotland or Switzerland, or to the seaside wherever they please, to inhale fresh breezes, to bask in the, late summer sunshine, to exercise the limbs and repose the mind, to forget, if they can, the cares and toils of London society—its pleasures are more easily forgotten—and those of business, professional, commercial, or political, in which six weary months have been passed. They have our best wishes for their private recreation wherever the railway and the steam-ship can take them, as soon as they are permitted to go. But we are sure that many Englishmen have too much public spirit, amidst the scenes of romantic or picturesque enchantment and the pleasant occupations of favourite sport or restful contemplation of nature, to feel even momentary indifference to the fortunes of their country, and of the great Empire over which its Government presides. They will not expect or desire that the faithful journalist should indulge such a weakness by ceasing, at a crisis of some apparent peril, to point out the dangers now besetting our national interests, and earnestly to invoke the wisdom of our rulers and legislators, in the few days yet remaining, for the true and safe conduct of the State.
Source: The Illustrated London News, No.2258—Vol. LXXXI, Saturday, August 12, 1882, p.158