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News Report Features of a Good News Report A news report is a factual and concise account of an event or occurrence. There are several media outlets through which the information is disseminated, such as newspapers, television, radio, and online platforms. News reports aim to provide the audience with an objective and balanced account of an event, allowing readers or viewers to stay informed and form their own opinion about an event. The Essentials of a Good News Report The essentials of a good news report include: Accuracy The information presented in a news report must be factual and verified. Journalists and reporters should ensure that the information is accurate, correct and verified. In no case, should it lead to rumors. Objectivity A good reporter / journalist avoids subjectivity in the delivery of news stories. A Journalist emphasizes on objectivity and presents the facts in a neutral and impartial manner, allowing the audience to form their own opinions. A smart journalist int

Running for Governor by Mark Twain A few months ago, I was nominated for Governor of the great state of New York, to run against Mr. John T. Smith and Mr. Blank J. Blank on an independent ticket. I somehow felt that I had one prominent advantage over these gentlemen, and that was--good character. It was easy to see by the newspapers that if ever they had known what it was to bear a good name, that time had gone by. It was plain that in these latter years they had become familiar with all manner of shameful crimes. But at the very moment that I was exalting my advantage and joying in it in secret, there was a muddy undercurrent of discomfort "riling" the deeps of my happiness, and that was--the having to hear my name bandied about in familiar connection with those of such people. I grew more and more disturbed. Finally, I wrote my grandmother about it. Her answer came quick and sharp. She said: You have never done one single thing in all your life to be ashamed of--not one. Lo

ULYSSES by Alfred Lord Tennyson It little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags,  Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole  Unequal laws unto a savage race. That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the legs: all times I have enjoy'd  Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those  That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when  Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades  Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;  For always roaming with a hungry heart  Much have I seen and known; cities of men  And manners, climates, councils, governments,  Myself not least, but honour'd of them all  And drunk delight of battle with my peers,  Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.  I am a part of all that I have met;  Yet all experiences is an arch wherethro'; Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades  For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end,  T

My Financial Career  by Stephen Leacock When  I go into a bank I get rattled. The clerks rattle me; the wickets rattle me; the sight of the money rattles me; everything rattles me.  The moment I cross the  threshold of a bank and attempt to transact business there, I become an irresponsible idiot.  I knew this beforehand, but my salary had been raised to fifty dollars a month and I felt that the bank was the only place for it.  So I shambled in and looked timidly round at the clerks. I had an idea that a person about to open an account must consult the manager. I went up to a wicket marked 'Accountant'. The accountant was a tall, cool  devil.  The very sight of him rattled me. My voice was sepulchral.  'Can I see the manager?' I said, and added solemnly, 'alone'. I don't know why I said 'alone',  'Certainly,' said the accountant and fetched him.  The manager was a grave, calm man. I held my fifty-six dollars clutched in a crumpled ball in my

The World Is Too Much With Us by William Wordsworth The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;— Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn. Summary of the Poem "The World Is Too Much With Us" The poem "The World Is Too Much With Us" by William Wordsworth laments the disconnection between humanity and nature due to materialistic pursuits. We have become too worldly and are involved in worldly affairs too much. The speaker criticizes the relentless purs

The Express by Stephen Spender A fter the first powerful plain manifesto The black statement of pistons, without more fuss But gliding like a queen, she leaves the station. Without bowing and with restrained unconcern She passes the houses which humbly crowd outside, The gasworks and at last the heavy page Of death, printed by gravestones in the cemetery. Beyond the town there lies the open country Where, gathering speed, she acquires mystery, The luminous self-possession of ships on ocean. It is now she begins to sing—at first quite low Then loud, and at last with a jazzy madness— The song of her whistle screaming at curves, Of deafening tunnels, brakes, innumerable bolts. And always light, aerial, underneath Goes the elate metre of her wheels. Steaming through metal landscape on her lines She plunges new eras of wild happiness Where speed throws up strange shapes, broad curves And parallels clean like the steel of guns. At last, further than Edinburgh or Rome, Beyond the crest of the