all. In the law reports alone, supplied by short-hand writers specially appointed to the duty of describing the proceedings of our tribunals of justice, there is enough, probably, to fill two-thirds of the newspaper. Then there are the cases in the Police and Bankruptcy Courts to be given, as well as the Stock Exchange and Shipping business matters to be recorded. Sporting has become so thoroughly an English institution that intelligence under this head cannot be neglected. We do not allude solely to horse-racing or steeple-chasing; we have our cricket-matches, and our pedestrian matches, matches at racket, and now must be included matches at swimming, all of which have been enthusiastically adopted by the British public, who will have an account of yesterday’s play, come what may. Nor must we forget our gallant body of volunteers, who look every morning in the daily press for the chronicle of their latest doings. All of this intelligence has to appear daily, or the grumblings of the reader would make themselves unmistakably heard, and even felt.
But how is it all to be given? That is the question—that is the Gordian Knot, and had not the sub-editor nerves of steel, and a cool head, he would faint whilst contemplating this labyrinth of matter. It has, however, all to be cut down, condensed, arranged, and put into form for the compositors. None of the information can be omitted; all must go in. By diligent industry, and a judicious procrustean process, that formidable mass is reduced to order, and appears next morning in an agreeable and comprehensible form, for the delectation and instruction of the public. Little do the uninitiated know the labour that is expended in providing for them their regular pabulum of morning news!
I have not, however, yet exhausted the perplexities which besiege the indefatigable sub-editor. What he has already achieved is comparatively speaking smooth and pleasant work. In addition to this daily accumulation of news—the stream of which is constant as the rise and fall of the tide, and as inexorable—flow in occasional freshets of intelligence. They sweep in like the Bore of the Ganges, and all must be made straight for their reception. It may be a grand political banquet, or a dog and cattle show, or a volunteer review, or a Wimbledon rifle-match, or the tour of the future majesties of England through the country, or an agricultural meeting, or the funeral of some distinguished warrior or statesman. Each of these important events has to be elaborately and picturesquely described, and special gentlemen, fluent with their pen, and capable of writing a glowing narrative, have to be despatched in order that the journal-reader may have every particular circumstance and incident detailed for his special gratification. For the elaborate and brilliant reports of these our contemporary Froissarts space must be found, however jammed and crammed the columns of the Daily Argus may previously have been. It would be as much as his place is worth for our friend the sub-editor—and he is a plodding, hard-working, manœuvring fellow indeed—to keep out so important and interesting a morceau of news. So the hydraulic pressure is again applied, and the graphic account of “our special correspondent” appears next morning in clear and unmistakable bourgeois type, realising for the world and his wife the scene as vividly and faithfully as though they themselves had been present on the spot.
Leaving the sub-editor in his room half-smothered in a mass of correspondence and flimsy, sometimes tearing his hair in an agony of desperation and confusion, let us go abroad for awhile and visit the various stations of that large army of purveyors of mental pabulum for the public who are ever and everywhere on the alert to collect and send in the “very latest” news. It is a widely-scattered army, and may be found in greater or less detachments in every continent and country of the habitable globe. For our purpose, however, we will divide them into the Home and Foreign Legions,—the Household Troops, and those which may be despatched on distant service. These, again, may be subdivided into the regulars and irregulars, the Guards and Bashi-Bazouks of journalism.
We will first describe those at home—those, for example, who labour within the precincts of the metropolis. The regulars, however, must take precedence of the irregulars, a force not unknown to fame under the title of “penny-a-liners.” Foremost in the ranks we place that learned and industrious body, the Parliamentary corps. Theirs is no easy task. During the hottest working time of the session the House meets at four and sits on till one, two, and sometimes three o’clock in the morning—the business of the nation has been known to have been protracted till four o’clock, long after daylight has appeared. Of course the toil and labour of the Parliamentary staff are not in all cases the same. It stands to reason, moreover, that there is more or less difficulty in taking down the speeches according to the peculiarities of the speakers. Some deliver their ideas fast; others slow; others indistinctly; some, on the contrary, are loud yet not plain, whilst some absolutely stutter over their sentences, so that it is next to impossible to catch their meaning. Lord Palmerston addresses the House in a quiet and familiar manner, and is easy to follow; Earl Russell is slow and deliberate, weighing each word carefully as though it were gold; Gladstone is fluent as a swift-flowing stream; Bright comes next to Gladstone in rapidity and smoothness. Disraeli dashes headlong like a torrent when the spirit of invective is strong upon him, and gives trouble. Again, some journals have a more numerous corps than others; in fact, the proportion averages from six to sixteen. According to the numerical force of each corps, therefore, the hours are divided, some turns being only for a quarter of an hour, others for half an hour, an hour, and even an hour and a half. As soon as the “quarter of an hour” is up, the reporter retires, and from his short-hand notes writes out what has been addressed to the House during his turn. Much, however, is left to his discretion. He is not required to “write out” every member in full. According to the importance of the speaker and the subject of debate, he gives a verbatim report, or condenses the whole speech.