and energy of the honest Hibernian reporter.

It is only the business of the great man who writes the leading articles
which appear in the large type of the daily papers to compose those
astonishing pieces of eloquence; the other parts of the paper are
left to the ingenuity of the sub-editor, whose duty it is to select
paragraphs, reject or receive horrid accidents, police reports,
etc.; with which, occupied as he is in the exercise of his tremendous
functions, the editor himself cannot be expected to meddle. The fate
of Europe is his province; the rise and fall of empires, and the great
questions of State demand the editor's attention: the humble puff,
the paragraph about the last murder, or the state of the crops, or the
sewers in Chancery Lane, is confided to the care of the sub; and it
is curious to see what a prodigious number of Irishmen exist among the
sub-editors of London. When the Liberator enumerates the services of his
countrymen, how the battle of Fontenoy was won by the Irish Brigade, how
the battle of Waterloo would have been lost but for the Irish regiments,
and enumerates other acts for which we are indebted to Milesian heroism
and genius--he ought at least to mention the Irish brigade of the press,
and the amazing services they do to this country.

The truth is, the Irish reporters and soldiers appear to do their duty
right well; and my friend Mr. Mulligan is one of the former. Having the
interests of his opera and the Ravenswing strongly at heart, and being
amongst his brethren an exceedingly popular fellow, he managed matters
so that never a day passed but some paragraph appeared somewhere
regarding the new singer, in whom, for their countryman's sake, all his
brothers and sub-editors felt an interest.

These puffs, destined to make known to all the world the merits of
the Ravenswing, of course had an effect upon a gentleman very closely
connected with that lady, the respectable prisoner in the Fleet, Captain
Walker. As long as he received his weekly two guineas from Mr. Woolsey,
and the occasional half-crowns which his wife could spare in her almost
daily visits to him, he had never troubled himself to inquire what her
pursuits were, and had allowed her (though the worthy woman longed with
all her might to betray herself) to keep her secret. He was far from
thinking, indeed, that his wife would prove such a treasure to him.

But when the voice of fame and the columns of the public journals
broug