The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser. — 1848-06-27 (Liverpool, Merseyside, England)

THE IRISH FELON."—The first number of this treasonable paper (the successor of The United Irishman) made its appearance on Saturday. It does not, however, come up to its model in point of vigour, or open and advised writing of sedition. The leading article bears the signature of John Martin, who is evidently displeased that the insurrection did not break out on the day that Mitchel was transported, as he conceives that the "abject submission of the Irish people, in that matter, might destroy the national cause for this generation." Much nearer "to the mark," and with far more vigour, comes out Mr. Devin Reilly, who addresses a letter "to the Englishman, calling himself Earl of Clarendon, her Majesty's chief legal murderer, and jury-packer-general of Ireland." He declares his intention to tell his Lordship all that goes on whilst his hand remains without a handcuff or a weapon, He commences each paragraph with the words " My Lord Assassin," and signs himself " My Lord Assassin, your enemy to the death." The following sentence is a fair sample of the whole letter, which is very long :—" An eminent diplomatist, like your Lordship, a mild and equable chief governor, who can walk from that den of conspirators you call your Privy Council, with the blood of men marked out for slaughter clotted round your soul, into a philosophic re-union of bullock-feeders and men-starvers, and there talk blandly and glibly of the ' state of the country' you wilfully devastate—a man like you, who can plot in your chamber with that recreant bravo you call your ' Catholic Attorney-General,' and his sheriffs and jurors, to take away honest men's liberties and lives, and then ride out in gilded caparison, with the tailoring of a soldier on you, and look Heaven in the face, and man—a ' Lord Lieutenant,' I say, with a convenient conscience of that kind, might forget the truculent, base, and cowardly manner in which you have done, into the slavery of the hulks in a distant land, your mortal enemy and my immortal friend. I will take care you shall not. Step by step, and week by week, free or chained, with pen in hand, by word of mouth, in prayer to God, I will repeat your infamy, and make others repeat it, till the Irish winds that whistle round you byday, and the serpent conscience which coils you round by night, scowling on you, shall alike hiss in your ears the one word—' Assassin !' " To wind up, it is to be observed that the Felon sneers down the grand " Irish League," laughs outright at simple Repeal, and will be content with nothing short of a wholesale revolution, and the establishment of an Irish Republic. Independent of this new firebrand, the treason market is pretty well supplied. The Nation is highly peppered with allusions to the pike as the veritable "queen of weapons;" and the Tribune is scarcely a whit behind its more ancient teacher of the science of warfare. The former organ is filled with the weekly proceedings of the clubs. Lectures, inculcating the imperative necessity of procuring arms, are delivered almost nightly at these foci of sedition. Several of the " presidents" are young men of respectable birth and education.