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 AN, ADDRESS 
 
 REV. GEORGE W. PEPPER, 
 
 Chaplain 40th U.S.I. 
 
 DELIVERED AT 
 
 RALEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA, 
 
 DECEMBER '10th, 1867. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 PUBLISHED BY PATRICK DONAHOE, 
 
 19 <fe 21 FRANKLIN STREET. 
 
 1 8 G 8. 
 
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 AN ADDRESS 
 
 BY THE 
 
 REV. GEORGE W. PEPPER, 
 
 it. • • f 
 
 Chaplain 40th U.S.I. 
 
 DELIVERED AT 
 
 RALEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA, 
 
 DECEMBEJl 20th, 1867. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 PUELISHED BY PATRICK DONAHOE, 
 
 19 & 21 FRANKLIN STREET. 
 
 18 68. 
 

 •**«TVf 
 
 02 
 
 
ADDRESS. 
 
 Mr. President : 
 
 You have done me the honor to request that I should 
 speak to-night on " Ireland," and I consider, therefore, that it is 
 my duty to put you in possession of my opinions on a subject that is 
 now agitating the British Government, and will continue to agitate 
 until justice is done to the Irish nation — a justice demanding the 
 utter destruction of that flag which has floated for centuries over the 
 bones of a murdered people. My theme, then, is Ireland, the land 
 of our affections and our hopes. There was a time when it was 
 considered an evidence of utter degradation for a man to avow that 
 he was a native of that distant and beloved isle. There was a time 
 when, even in your beautiful city of Raleigh, the irresistible pen of 
 a distinguished politician, a name known and honored throughout 
 the land for staunch fidelity to the Union and civil liberty, had to be 
 wielded in vindication of the rights of foreign born citizens under 
 the Constitution and the laws. Thank God — and I say it with a 
 rejoicing heart — those dark periods have passed away, and the 
 thinking men of all classes are now eager to do justice to that coun- 
 try, to which much of the prosperity and glory of this great nation is 
 due. Ireland, heroic, illustrious island ! — once a word of reproach, 
 veined with sneering irony, only spoken of by some religious 
 bigot in a sermon, or by some marrowless politician on the 
 stump to cover it with slander and abuse. History has written 
 it as our proudest eulog}\ Geographically considered, it is but 
 a small island, with an area of thirty-two thousand miles, and yet 
 to most of her sons, scattered over the earth's wide surface, 
 there is an indescribable charm and fascination in the very name. 
 There are so many delightful associations over which one lingers in 
 enthusiastic love, and which suggests to the mind illustrious memories 
 of a time when it produced warriors, poets, saints and orators. The 
 
climate is so charming, the scenery is so full of nohle beauties, the 
 soil is so fruitful, the men so brave, and the women so fair, and the 
 whole people so brimful of wit and of a generous hospitality, that 
 even the iron-hearted Cromwell exclaimed, while viewing the 
 beautiful valley of the Nore from the cupalo of St. Canice, "Behold, 
 here indeed is a land worth fighting for !" 
 
 Geographers tell us that the world may be divided into two 
 hemispheres, one of water and the other of land. Ireland is the 
 centre of the land hemisphere. A most admired poet says " that 
 her back is turned to Britain, and her face to the West," indicating 
 that Ireland is favorably situated to become the great entrepot of the 
 commerce between Europe and America. The Irish claim that the 
 glory of discovering this continent belongs to one of their saints, St. 
 Brenden, and that Ireland was the first, as she is now, the most 
 friendly and trusted ally of the great Republic. That no other 
 country, visited by travellers, approaches Ireland in natural attrac- 
 tions, is the belief of every Irishman. Where else do we behold so 
 many great and characteristic features ? where such mountains as the 
 magnificent chain of the Connemaras ? where gardens so sylvan and 
 lovely, with winding walks, like those in forests, fountains and 
 springs ? where lakes like those of Killarney, where savage wihlness 
 ceases to be terrible, because it is inconceivably lovely ? where 
 cathedrals and churches of such grandeur and awe-inciting vastness ? 
 where such a soil, fruitful enough to support fifteen millions of 
 people? where else can we feel in every air which blows the spirit 
 of health, the freedom from the world — the communion with one's 
 self? 
 
 Glorious old Ireland — the temple of nature where man casts off 
 for a time all thoughts but of her, and drinks deep of the purest and 
 loftiest sources of enjoyment — mighty and grand in thy unrivalled 
 beauties ; wonderfully beautiful in thy enchanting loveliness, and 
 thy mountains noble and magnificent images of eternal power and 
 grandeur. 
 
 " The Niobe of nations ! there she stands 
 Childless anil crownless in her voiceless woe ; 
 
 An empty urn within her withered hands ; 
 "Whose holy dust was scattered long ago." 
 
 Ireland is a heroic nation. The records of liberty are full of the 
 praise of Irish valor. Satirical Voltaire, the cynic of the human 
 race, may ridicule their gallantry, saying they fight everybody's 
 
5 
 
 battles but their own. Can Greece, Rome, Switzerland, Holland, 
 or even America, present more glorious fields, or more gallant 
 struggles for freedom ? Their sieges are so many eulogisms, the 
 most heroic are those of Derry, where the brave Walker held out 
 against pestilence, famine, death, until God himself fought for him ; 
 and that of Limerick where the immortal Sarsfield splendidly defied 
 the bullets of the enemy. " Show me the man," said the Queen of 
 Navarre, " that tells the nations that I am beautiful, that I may 
 shower honors upon him." We love Davis for singing of Ireland's 
 charms : — 
 
 " Oh ! she is a rich and rare land ! Oh ! she is a fresh and fair land; 
 She is a true and dear land, this native land of mine." 
 
 The patriot Irishman loves to refer to the glorious period of the 
 United Irishmen — producing a host of brilliant men, among them 
 poor Emmet, the beau ideal of a soldier, a patriot, and a man. Pity 
 smiles through her tears on the strange and chequered scenes of his 
 life in connection, not only with the scaffold, which he made radiant 
 and glorious as the cross, but also the tender and touching separation 
 from him of the young and beautiful daughter of a well known Irish 
 barrister. 
 
 " It was the evening of a lovely day ; a young and beautiful girl 
 stood at the prison gate, and desired admittance into the dungeon. 
 She was closely vailed, and the keeper could not imagine who she 
 was, nor that any one of such proud bearing should be an humble 
 suppliant at the prison door. However, he granted the boon, led 
 her to the dungeon, opened the massive door, then closed it again, 
 and the lovers were alone. He was leaning against the prison wall, 
 with a down-cast head, and his arms were folded upon his breast. 
 Gently she raised the vail from her face, and Emmet turned to gaze 
 upon all that earth contained for him, the girl whose sunny brow, in 
 the days of his boyhood, had been his pole star ; the maiden who 
 made him think the world was all sunshine. The clanking of his 
 chains sounded like a death knell to her ears, and she wept like a 
 child. Emmet said but little, yet lie pressed her to his heart. In a 
 low voice, he besought her not to forget him when he was gone. He 
 spoke of by-gone days ; the happiness of childhood, when his hopes 
 were bright and glorious. 
 
 " Hark ! the church bell sounded, and he remembered the hour of 
 separation. The jailor entered, and after dashing the tears from his 
 
eyes, he separated thorn from their long embrace, and led the lady 
 from the dungeon. At the entrance she turned ; their eyes met ; 
 they could not say farewell. The door swung upon its heavy hinges, 
 and they parted forever. The next day, a pale girl, with golden 
 hair, lay upon the bed of death. O ! it was hard for her to die in 
 that beautiful Erin, where the flowers bloom and the balmy air 
 comes freshly to the pining soul. O ! no, her star was set, her heart 
 was broken ! 
 
 " When ties have been formed upon earth, what is more heart- 
 rending and agonizing to the spirit than to find the beloved is 
 snatched away, and all our love given to a passing floweret. 
 Enough, she died, the betrothed of Robert Emmett." 
 
 The muse of Byron has immortalized the maid of Saragossa ; why 
 should the amiable Sarah Curran, the betrothed of Robert Emmett, 
 be denied equal honors ? The story of the bridge of Wexford, where 
 so many dauntless hearts suffered a cruel death by the remorseless 
 soldiery ; and the recent butchery in Manchester, where three young 
 Irishmen were strangled to death, show the desperate fidelity with 
 which the sons of Erin cling to the unconquered purpose of securing 
 independence fur the land of their fathers. Where in the annals of 
 nations do we find such calm and dignified heroism in the very 
 presence of death ? The murder of these gallant men has rung the 
 death-knell of English domination in Ireland. From the depths of 
 a million Irish hearts, on this side of the Atlantic, the cry of 
 vengeance has gone forth. There, in the very heart of brutal 
 England, these young heroes, lifted up their dying voices, kept their 
 flags flying and broke forth in electric enthusiasm with the anthem — 
 " God save Ireland!" Eternal honor to their memories. They 
 leave behind them stainless names. To them be applied the lines of 
 Arnold, for they realized the bold and beautiful sentiments they 
 express : 
 
 " Charge once more, then, and be dumb, 
 Let the victors when they come, 
 When the forts of folly fall, 
 Find your bodies by the wall." 
 
 If the cause of Ireland is not just, then there is no justice in earth 
 or Heaven. For centuries her children have been kept in bondage 
 the most cruel and degrading — the caves and fastnesses of the moun- 
 tains have been their hiding place against the ferocious despotism 
 
that sought their destruction. Famines of recent years, inflicted by 
 a British Providence, deprived Ireland of more than two millions of 
 her children. In one year alone, thirty-three thousand houses were 
 levelled to the ground by the Crowbar Brigade, and their inmates 
 turned out on the roads to die of starvation and exposure. Fifty 
 thousand were butchered by England in '98. The old passion has 
 again seized the tyrant, and Irish blood has flowed once more. The 
 three last consecrated martyrs of our race, whose daring and out- 
 spoken words on the scaffold, have enrolled their names in the vast 
 pantheon of freedom's champions. These men were not murderers. 
 Back in your face, as a London editor truly says, oh, England, the 
 foul stigma, which you cast upon our butchered countrymen, is flung. 
 France will not hear it. America will not list to it ; the world will 
 hold you guilty. Ireland, bleeding, beggared, trampled down in the 
 earth, tells you that our three young countrymen, whose blood you 
 deliberately and wantonly shed, were true patriots. Irish blood for 
 many months has been thirsted for, and blood has at last slaked the 
 thirst of the foul natures that yearned for it. The names of the 
 illustrious triumvirate, Allen, O'Brien and Larkin, rise to the lips 
 like a litany — their devotion to Ireland can never be forgotten until 
 the sun turns into blood, and God ceases to rule in Heaven ! From 
 the memorable day when Lord Edward Fitzgerald died in prison, 
 exclaiming — " D — n you, come on /" down until the strangulation of 
 these Christian patriots, Irish blood has often called for vengeance. 
 Young Allen, as he marched to the scaffold, asked, " what will 
 America say when she hears of it." As Poland looks to France, as 
 the Christian looks to Palestine, so Ireland looks to America. But 
 while we talk the dead are resting in their shrouds, and the living 
 are mourning over them. They laid down their lives for Ireland, 
 and though we cannot kneel upon their graves, or trace one fond 
 line to their memories, yet their memories will always be green to 
 the thousands who loved them and mourned them for Ireland's sake. 
 The eloquent Gladstone, in his recent speech, ascribes Fenianism 
 and all the troubles of Ireland to the misgovernment and oppression 
 of England. Ireland complains that her land for hundreds of years 
 has been deemed legitimate plunder for the rapacious and needy 
 servants of the British crown. She complains that the most cruel 
 tortures and the most savage measures have been used to force on her 
 people a detested Church, where its members only form one twen- 
 
8 
 
 tieth part of the population ; that Henry the Second pat the people 
 to death because they did not want to be Catholics ; that Henry the 
 Eighth did the same because they would not become Protestants ; 
 that Cromwell the saint, 
 
 " The mildest mannered man 
 
 That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat," 
 
 put them to the sword because they were loyal to the king. 
 
 She complains that Elizabeth fomented revolts, murdering a 
 million of the Irish, in order that there might be estates enough for 
 each importunate courtier. 
 
 She complains that an English king stole the Earl of Desmond's 
 estate, six hundred thousand acres — that James the First seized six 
 counties ; that eight million acres, two-thirds of the island, were 
 distributed among the supporters of Cromwell. 
 
 She complains that William of Orange, he of glorious memory, 
 turned out four thousand families to die upon the road, and then 
 established a penal code worthy of Herod. 
 
 She complains that the Second George disfranchised five-sixths of 
 her population, drove a hundred thousand to the army of France. 
 
 She complains that her clergy were hunted and massacred. 
 
 She complains that seven millions of money, supported by a 
 hundred thousand bayonets, united Ireland to England. 
 
 She complains that millions of tithes are wrung from an over- 
 worked peasantry to support a miserable set of sporting bishops. 
 
 She complains that when the sword failed to exterminate, that 
 England, the Christian nation, the Empire of Hell, organized peri- 
 odical famines in the years 1817, 1831, 1837, 1847, reducing Ireland 
 from a population of eight millions to half that aggregate. 
 
 She complains that the frightful wars of 1641, the revolt of 1798, 
 and the insurrection of 1848 were created by England for the 
 extirpation of the Celtic race. 
 
 She complains that confiscation, banishment, and the gibbet, have 
 been used by the Government of England, for the speedy and com- 
 plete destruction of the Irish people. 
 
 She complains that for five hundred years the flower of every 
 generation of Irishmen have been killed on the battle fields, or mur- 
 dered on the scaffold, or driven into desolate exile for love of Ireland. 
 
 She complains that the sacred charter of manhood, without which 
 
9 
 
 our life is lower than the dogs, is trampled under the feet of her 
 foreign lords. 
 
 Ireland, in the face of Europe, in the face of America, in the face 
 of the great Creator, is amply justified in entering upon a war with 
 England ; the people can do so with a free conscience and a full 
 assurance that it is Heaven's work. It has heen truly and forcibly 
 said, by a powerful writer, that it is no light or factious quarrel. 
 
 It is Ireland's last resource, long evaded, long postponed. The 
 rights which she sought in vain to purchase with her tears, she 
 springs up at last to purchase with her heart's blood. In the coming 
 onset the Irish people will have the sympathies of the true and 
 good. The earth is weary of their groans ! 
 
 They fight for liberty to live. Hundreds of thousands of Irishmen 
 would again die in the tortures of famine if they continue to bow 
 their necks to the Parliament of England ! They fight for liberty to 
 retain the rights of manhood — that in common with every nation in 
 Europe, they may possess arms to defend themselves. They fight 
 to resist outrages more grievous and dishonoring than those for 
 which an English King was brought to the block — outrages which 
 at this hour would cause the swords of France to spring from their 
 scabbords to strike dead their audacious author. They fight because 
 they are denied peace except at the price of dishonor — because their 
 hero leaders are doomed to the prison and to the gallows. They 
 light because the honor, the interest, the happiness, the necessity, the 
 very existence of that ancient nation depends upon the valor of the 
 present time. If the Irish at home cower, flinch, or falter, then the 
 hopes are gone for which their fathers gave their life's blood. Gone 
 in the stench of dishonor and infamy that will cling to it forever. 
 In God's name let the struggle begin. Oh ! that my words could 
 burn like molten metal through your veins, and light up the ancient 
 heroic daring which would make each Irishman a Leonidas — each 
 battle-field a Marathon — each pass a Thermopylae ! 
 
 In the Legislative halls of the Government, it has been asserted 
 that Ireland is unworthy of her independence, because forsooth some 
 recreant Irishmen in this country, have steadily acted with and 
 voted for the slave lords of the South. That Ireland is the friend 
 of oppression, in any form, is false. While other nations became 
 rich and powerful by the sale of human beings, to the immortal 
 honor of Ireland be it stated that no slave ship dared ever to enter 
 her harbors. The greatest of dead Irishmen was Daniel O'Connell. 
 
10 
 
 Like Berryer and Mirabeau, he was the orator of great masses of 
 men. He struck down to the very earth, at a single blow, the 
 rampant rhetoric of those who defended slavery in the English 
 House of Commons. The advocates of oppression retreated and 
 quailed before him. Hear what he said years ago when the slave, 
 Frederick Douglas, was introduced to him in Conciliation Hall. 
 This was a grand speech — as sublime a warning against oppression 
 as ever fell from the lips of any Reformer. It was finely delivered, 
 overwhelming in its logic, majestic in its rhetoric, biting in its 
 sarcasm, melting in its pathos, and burning in its rebukes. "I have 
 been assailed for attacking the American institution — negro slavery. 
 I am not ashamed of that attack. I do not shrink from it. I am 
 the advocate of civil and religious liberty, all over the globe. And 
 wherever tyranny exists, I am the foe of the tyrant. Wherever 
 oppression exists, I am the foe of the oppressor. Wherever slavery 
 rears its head, I am the enemy of the system. 1 am the friend of 
 liberty in every clime, class, and color. My sympathy with distress 
 is not confined to my own green Isle. No ! It extends itself to 
 every corner of the earth. My heart walks abroad, and wherever 
 the miserable are to be succored or the slave to be set free, there my 
 spirit is at home and there I delight to dwell." 
 
 Glorious Emancipator ! These are noble words and nobly spoken. 
 O'Connell was in his happiest mood. The fire of Freedom was 
 burning in his mighty heart. The eloquent Douglas sat like a statue. 
 How his heart throbbed and his eyes flashed as the Liberator 
 pronounced this vivid and powerful address ! 
 
 Here is another blast from O'Connell's bugle : — " If there be in 
 the huts of Africa, or amidst the swamps of the Carolinas, a human 
 bein" - panting for freedom, let it be proclaimed to him that he has 
 friends in Ireland. A voice shall be raised in the old Irish nation 
 which will roll back in thunder to America, which will mingle with 
 her mighty waves, and which will cause one universal shout of 
 liberty to be heard throughout the world. My humble words shall 
 make way against the Western breezes ; they . shall ascend the 
 Mississippi, they shall descend the Missouri, they shall be heard 
 along the banks of the Ohio and of the Potomac, till the black man 
 would leap with delight to express his gratitude to those who had 
 effected his emancipation. And, oh ! (But perhaps it was his pride 
 that dictated the hope that some black 0' Connell might rise among 
 
11 
 
 his fellow-slaves who would cry), 'Agitate! agitate! till the four 
 millions learned the secret of their strength.' " The voice of 
 O'Connell shall be heard, to use his own magic words, "riding 
 against the blast as thunder goes, and telling the slave that the time 
 for his emancipation has come, and his oppressor, that the period of 
 his injustice is soon to terminate." How he lashes the villany^ 
 loathes the hypocrisy, excoriates sham republicans and spurious 
 Christians. 
 
 My fellow-countrymen, think of these words of O'Connell, Ireland 
 incarnate. — Think of all that he has said — think of it till your bosom 
 swells, your soul is on fire, your pulses thrill with excitement. 
 Thomas Francis Meagher, the most accomplished and talented 
 Irishman who ever made this country his home, was the first General 
 of the Union army to declare for negro suffrage. He said, speaking 
 of negro soldiers : " By their fidelity and splendid soldiership, such 
 as at Fort Wagner and Port Hudson, gave to their bayonets an 
 irresistible electricity. The black heroes of the army have not only 
 entitled themselves to liberty, but to citizenship ; and the Democrat 
 who would deny them the rights for which their wounds and glorified 
 colors so eloquently plead, is unworthy to participate in the greatness 
 of the nation, whose authority these disfranchised heroes did so 
 much to vindicate." 
 
 Right, brave Meagher ! 
 
 When Douglas escaped from the grip of slavery, he went to 
 Ireland, landing at Cork. He had a triumphal reception from the 
 city authorities. A magnificent procession was formed, headed by 
 several bands of music, and Douglas, though sitting in a carriage 
 with Father Mathew, was taken out and carried to the banqueting 
 hall on the shoulders of the multitude. A feature of the ovation 
 was a colored boy and an Irish boy chained together, typical of 
 the enslavement of the two races. Love of liberty is inherent in 
 the breast of every Irishman. The antipathy of some of our race 
 to the negroes has its origin in the teaching of England. " Wherever 
 the English have ruled, prejudice against color exists. In Spain, 
 France, Mexico, it does not exist. The Turcos are popular with the 
 French, and yet they are black." Courage, then, my countrymen, 
 for the right, the beautiful and the true. Have we not sworn fidelity 
 to liberty in a thousand passionate words, by our poets and orators, 
 in the grave resolves of councils, leagues, and confederations ? 
 
12 
 
 Stand by the Union party — the party of patriotism, the party of 
 progress, the powerful party that abolished slavery, squelched rebel- 
 lion, and established the integrity and grandeur of the national 
 domain. 
 
 The comic preacher of Brooklyn, Ward Beecher, in his recent 
 Thanksgiving Sermon, took occasion to indulge in ironical allusions 
 to the Irish race — calling the European emigrants, particularly the 
 Celts, " a black vomit." Though our countrymen have contributed 
 so much by their energy and enterprise to the wealth and greatness 
 of the country ; though their blood was poured out in torrents on 
 every battlefield of the Union, adding brighter lustre to the stripes, 
 and making the stars of our time-honored flag shine with keener 
 splendor ; though they have sworn fidelity to the fortunes of the 
 nation in many a fierce tempest of the Mexican and Indian wars ; 
 though their blood fattens every valley, and their bones bleach on 
 every mountain, from Bunker Hill to the city of Mexico ; though 
 they have written a vindication of their loyalty in their heart's 
 blood at Fort Donelson, Stone River, Corinth, Chattanooga, Malvern 
 Hill, Antietam, Resaca, Atlanta, Gettysburg, Fair Oaks, Petersburg 
 and Fredericksburg, where the Irish brigade stemmed the tide of 
 battle, and with a united Irish cheer, charged upon the foe, leaving 
 sixteen hundred dead and wounded in the hands of the victorious 
 Confederates. In the honored graves in which many of them sleep 
 to-day, they are far above the flippant sneers and criticisms of the 
 cold-blooded, narrow-minded Beecher. 
 
 Emerson speaks of foreigners as courteously as the Arch bigot of 
 Brooklyn : — " The Irish and Germans come over here in shoals to 
 dig our canals and manure our fields with their bones, and leave no 
 further trace of themselves." 
 
 Poor Emerson and Beecher ! Do they know that Irish intellect, 
 boldness, and industry have contributed many brilliant chapters to 
 the history of the two greatest nations of the earth ? Three of the 
 signers of the great Declaration of Independence were Irishmen. 
 Among the first to sympathize with the oppressed inhabitants of 
 New England and to express indignation at British outrages were 
 the militia officers of this grand State of North Carolina, all of 
 whom were Irishmen. Their declaration of independence in 1776, 
 one year before Jefferson wrote the immortal charter, is full of 
 eloquent indignation at the tyranny of England. Jefferson's great 
 
13 
 
 document contains many of the ideas and phrases of the Irish delegates 
 of the Mecklenburg Convention. — Here is one of their resolutions : 
 
 " That we do hereby declare ourselves a free and independent people ; are. and of 
 right ought to be, a sovereign, self-governing association, under the control of no 
 power than that of our God and the general government of the Congress; to the 
 maintenance of which independence we solemnly pledge to each other our mutual 
 co-operation, our lives, our fortunes, and our most sacred honor." 
 
 Charles Carroll, of Carrolton, who devoted his princely fortune, 
 and Robert Morris, of Philadelphia, who poured out his wealth like 
 water, to replenish the scanty coffers of the impoverished colonies, 
 were Irishmen. One-third of the revolutionary soldiers who defended 
 New York, New Jersey and Massachusetts from the British hosts, 
 Avere Irishmen. Chivalrous Montgomery, who fell on the heights 
 of Quebec, with the stars and stripes flying above his head, was an 
 Irishmen. Thomas Addis Emmet, the polished diamond of the New 
 York bar and Attorney- General of the State, was an Irishman. 
 The Pennsylvania legion, whose blood was shed in noble defence of 
 liberty, were Irishmen. Blannerhassett, the man of letters, of 
 music, of philosophy, was an Irishman. Wellington, the great 
 military captain, was an Irishman. The sweetest poet of the English 
 tongue was Moore, an Irishman. Many of the renowned poets, 
 orators and dramatists were Irishmen. The brilliant and powerful 
 dramatic orator, Henry Grattan, whose eloquence was the very 
 music of freedom, was an Irishman. Curran, the eloquent advocate 
 and fearless champion of mankind, was an Irishman. The humorous, 
 witty and patriotic Dean Swift, the most powerful writer of our 
 language, was an Irishman. Edmund Burke, the loftiest name in 
 British annals and a tower of strength to the struggling colonies, 
 was an Irishman. Richard Lalor Sheil, the poet and orator, whose 
 eloquence could even charm the serpents of despotism, was an 
 Irishman. Knox, Thompson, Barry, Paul Jones, McDonough and 
 Jackson, patriots of the past, were of Irish birth and blood. Sheridan, 
 who, according to Byron, wrote the best comedy and pronounced 
 the best oration in the English language, was an Irishman. Sterne, 
 Steele, Usher, Lardner and Goldsmith, the exile from Auburn, 
 " loveliest village of the plain," novelists and philosophers, were all 
 Irishmen. Canning, the accomplished diplomatist, who often saved 
 England from ruin, was an Irishman. Hogan and Machlese, great 
 painters, were Irishmen. Generals Napier and Gough, splendid 
 soldiers, are Irishmen. Daniel O'Conneil, mighty in eloquence, and 
 
14 
 
 whose commanding majesty of soul embraced within the circle of 
 hi.-; sympathies all religions and races, was an Irishman. Meagher, 
 the splendid orator and patriot, whose eloquence even rivalled that 
 of Sheil, was an Irishman. Shields, the shot-proof soldier, the only 
 General who ever gained a victory over Stonewall Jackson, is an 
 Irishman. Charles O'Connor and James T. Brady, the foremost 
 lawyers of the American bar, are Irishmen's sons. Sheridan, the 
 great military genius of the country, a bulwark in war and a marvel 
 of a soldier, is an Irishman. Mulligan, the gifted soldier, martyr 
 and orator. Conners, the great senator from California, and John 
 A. Logan, the heroic commander of the Army of the Tennessee, 
 honored names and decidedly Irish. 
 
 The illustrious Catholic Prelates, Bishops England, Kenrick, 
 Hughes, were Irishmen and of Celtic lineage. Bishop Simpson, 
 the renowned orator, the thunder and lightning of whose eloquence 
 compelled even the London Times, to wonder and applaud, is of 
 Irish origin. Charles Elliott, famous for Theological learning, every 
 drop of blood that warms his generous heart is Irish. Henry Giles, 
 the delicious essayist and charming lecturer, is a genuine Irishman. 
 Shelton Mackensie, distinguished for classical attainments and 
 splendor of diction is a pure Celt. M. Cullough (Mack), the 
 accomplished phenographer and genial correspondent, is a young 
 Irishman. Miles O'Reilly, poet, scholar, editor and soldier patriot, 
 is an Irishman. Powers and Crawford, the sculptors were of Irish 
 extraction. The first General officer killed in the revolutionary 
 war, the first officer of Artillery appointed, the first Commodore 
 commissioned, the first victor to whom the British flag was struck at 
 sea, and the first officer who surprised a fort by land, were Irishmen, 
 and with such enthusiasm did the emigrants from the ' Green 'isle' 
 espouse the cause of liberty that Lord Mountjoy declared in Parlia- 
 ment " You lost America by the Irish." 
 
 The Irish race has given Generals and Marshals to France, 
 Spain, Austria, and Russia. These are a few of the great and 
 brilliant names which illuminate the sombre annals of poor Ireland. 
 Proud, glorious old land, with such a brilliant past, and with sons 
 who are now in administrative, military, and diplomatic circles, 
 adding splendor to Ireland's fame ; who would not rather be one of 
 thy children than be Beecher and Emerson, loathed by mankind ? 
 
 Here the lecturer gave a rapid and comprehensive narrative of 
 
15 
 
 Irish politics, referring in glowing and eloquent terms to the Young 
 Ireland movement of '48. He said that " the original founders of 
 this splendid revolutionary organization were young men of fine 
 talents and stainless morals. They aimed at securing the independ- 
 ence of Ireland by the use of physical force. O'Connell, the leader 
 of the old organization, in a speech of great eloquence, denounced 
 the young Republicans, remarking in his huge, lion-like style, that 
 he would put his paw on them, and then introduced his famous 
 resolution, that no liberty was worth the shedding of a drop of 
 blood. Meagher, the brightest orator in the Confederation, replied 
 to O'Connell in a magnificent and sublime speech, in which occurs 
 his celebrated apostrophe to the sword. The young Ireland party 
 was then formed, and around it gathered the intelligence and young 
 hopes of the nation. Brennan says that a national literature soon 
 sprang up. It was based on a warm love of liberty, while its 
 graceful shaft was wreathed around with flowers of female enthusi- 
 asm. The names of Duffy, Williams, Davis, Mitchel, Meagher, 
 Lalor, Managan, a noble brotherhood of poets and orators, soon 
 spread with electric enthusiasm from Waterford to Derry. A new 
 spirit inspired the people. Clubs were formed throughout the 
 island, and the young men of culture were enrolled by thousands 
 under the banners of the Confederates. The intrepid Meagher 
 travelled extensively, addressing immense crowds who were eager to 
 gather around the Republican standard. Those speeches of Meagher's 
 were sublime bursts of eloquence, which have seldom, if ever, been 
 equalled even by himself. Mitchell was everywhere hailed as a 
 Tribune, and his strong, stern, magnificent denunciations of British 
 misrule met with a hearty response in the breasts of thousands who 
 were longing for the utter destruction of a government that upheld 
 its domination in Ireland by a hundred thousand bayonets. " My 
 father, sir," said he, in his clear, ringing tones, " was a United 
 Irishman, and carried arms in defence of his country's freedom. Do 
 you dare to tell me that I must abhor and stigmatize the memory of 
 my own father." The revolution soon commenced. What genius 
 was wasted on that struggle — what noble, loving hearts were 
 broken ! The gifted leaders were caught, and transported to the 
 white rocks of Bermuda. Some of them died in poverty and 
 anguish. In a dark, cold, cheerless hospital died Managan of the 
 tuneful harp, Lalor, the fiercest rebel of them all, and most dangerous 
 
16 
 
 Democrat in Britain, sank gradually into a lonely grave. In dark 
 dungeons on the Southern seas, far from the old land they loved so 
 well, scores of them fretted and pined against their chains. O'Brien, 
 distinguished for his varied and profound learning, as well as for the 
 goodness of his heart and simplicity of manners, died of a broken 
 heart in Wales. Maurice Leyne, an orator of splendid gifts, his 
 war-cry always floated clear and strong against England, and his 
 dashing temper and fine abilities were always in requisition when 
 Ireland was assailed. He sleeps in magnificent Tipperary. 
 Meagher, the eloquent confessor of a manly faith, the Chrysostom 
 of his suffering country, distinguished for wonderful depth and 
 variety of language, his bright soul was quenched in the fatal waters 
 of the Missouri. The last time, but one, that I met him, was at 
 Nashville, Tennessee. He was full of anecdotes of the war, and 
 especially of his Irish Erigade. One story that he told is too good 
 to be lost. He said he was leading his men to the front in one of 
 the seven days' battles, when an aid rode by and gave him the news 
 that our army had carried a certain strategic point, and captured 
 several colors. " D'ye hear that, boys?" shouted Meagher. "Our 
 men have won the day and captured the enemy's colors. Just as I 
 said that," remarked Meagher, "a private, who was plunging along, 
 out of one muddy hole into another, look up to me and said, ' Ah, 
 Gineral ! I'd rather hev a pint of O'Dinnis McGinnis' whiskey than 
 all the colors of the rainbow.'" 
 
 It was while here that he came out for the Republican party, 
 delivering an address of wonderful eloquence and power. The 
 President of the United States, and other distinguished men who 
 listened to it, can never forget its magical influence over the vast 
 audience. 
 
 I well remember Meagher's visit to my native city, Belfast. I 
 sat by his side. All eyes were centered on this eloquent young 
 rebel. " There is mind and eloquence in him," muttered a scholarly 
 philosopher, as Meagher just finished one of his brilliant illustrations 
 in a beautiful and stately climax. The orator's voice became more 
 melodious, rich and impassioned. Every eye is fixed, and as he 
 depicts the wrongs of Ireland, every hand is clenched. In the short 
 space of half an hour, distance was annihilated, time forgotten and 
 the audience found itself surrounded by their oppressors, amidst 
 whips, fetters, packed juries, murder, famine and death ! The soul 
 
17 
 
 of the orator which kindled as he advanced, burned within him and 
 the flame communicated itself to the whole* of the vast assembly. 
 To such as were capable of calm observation, the scene was grand 
 and sublime. As he approached the close of his magnificent speech, 
 he gave a lightning glance at the atrocities of England, invoked the 
 people to rise and rid themselves forever of the accursed Union. 
 
 "I arrest you," exclaimed an officer of the law. "No, by 
 heaven," responded the gallant Meagher, and in these immortal 
 words confounded the soldiery: "I can and will retract nothing, 
 because it is neither safe nor wise to do anything contrary to con- 
 science ! Here I stand. I cannot do otherwise ! God help me." 
 
 The next day five thousand men joined the young Ireland party 
 and prepared to raise the standard of revolt. England trembled — 
 matters were coming to a climax. Meagher was arrested; the 
 mockery for trial was given him, and he was sentenced to be hung. 
 His bearing during the trial was grand, elevated and heroic. His 
 speech on the occasion has never been surpassed either in elegance 
 of composition or in haughty defiance of the power that sentenced 
 him to a felon's death. Subsequently this sentence was commuted 
 to banishment for life in Van Diemen's land. 
 
 I saw him again at Washington at the princely residence of Mr. 
 Coyle. He was accompanied by his charming wife, a lady whose 
 beauty and accomplishments have made her a conspicuous ornament 
 in every circle of polite society. The General was a passionate 
 lover of the Republic. When an exile in Australia he always kept 
 its flag flying from the Speranza on Lake Sorrell, where he and his 
 companions spent pleasant hours. Meagher was brilliant in conver- 
 sation. He talked of poor Ireland, her sorrows, struggles, and 
 hopes. He inquired particularly and earnestly of Mitchell, whom I 
 had recently met in Richmond. He spoke kindly, tenderly, and 
 with evident emotion of his old friend and fellow sufferer, referring 
 in touching terms to their early friendship and labors in the cause of 
 their country. The observation was made, that perhaps we might 
 never meet again, and with a superb smile he answered, " If not 
 here, we shall meet yonder beyond the cedars and the stars." 
 
 Mozart died finishing the requiem that was first destined to be 
 
 chanted over its creator, and then to enchant creation. Be Liles 
 
 wrote the chant that conducted him to the scaffold and which, then 
 
 and since is the war cry of his nation " Tlie Marsettaise." Tasso 
 
 2 
 
18 
 
 lived long, yet died only when appreciated, the blithe notes of fame 
 singing him out of the world with the laurels on his brow for a 
 death chaplet. And Thomas Francis Meagher has fallen in the 
 very bloom and promise of a brilliant manhood. By the millions of 
 his countrymen in all lands his death will be profoundly lamented. 
 His sincere and indefatigable efforts for the independence of dear 
 old Erin endeared him to his countrymen. Americans will not 
 forget him, for around his name are linked imperishable memories 
 gathered at Bull Run, through the Peninsula's gloomy campaigns 
 and Antietam's bloody plains ; in the desperate charge at Fredericks- 
 burg. His grand and impassioned orations for an undivided 
 nationality will cause the natives of the United States to weep for 
 the loss of an adopted son, in whom 
 
 " The love of liberty with life was given, 
 And life itself the inferior gift of Heaven." 
 
 His old comrades in arms, and scores of others, will deeply regret 
 the death of an old fellow-soldier who had so often given many 
 signal proofs of devotion to the land of his adoption. 
 
 Thomas Francis Meagher, in appearance, was a fine specimen of 
 a genuine Celt. He was of medium height, a captivating personnel, 
 a florid face, brilliant eyes, glowing with the fires of patriotism. His 
 countenance was thoroughly Milesian, large, open, genial, plump 
 and ruddy. His voice was the very music of freedom. Meet him 
 in sociable moments, he was overflowing with wit and humor of the 
 rarest kind, caustic and cutting against intriguers, speculators and 
 political charlatans, but genial and flowing towards his friends, full 
 of buoyant vivacity, wit and historical lore, he was a genial, instruc- 
 tive and delightful companion. He was as pleasant a friend as 
 Lever ever painted in any of his novels — his strongest weakness 
 was a devoted love of the social pleasures. This was the head and 
 front of his offending. In the light of those heroic sacrifices which 
 made the early days of his career illustrious, his friends may well 
 forget the errors from which no mortal is free, and rank his name 
 high in the list of those who have deserved well of their country 
 and made their mark upon their day and generation. 
 
 Our lips tremble as we speak of that sad July night, when in the 
 turbulent waters of the Missouri, our gifted friend and brightest 
 
19 
 
 model of a patriot, was drowned and lost to Ireland forever. The 
 fatal tidings of his tragic death, caused sorrow and poignant grief to 
 the households of tens of thousands of Irish scattered over the wide 
 surface of the earth. That one so gifted, so generous and impetuous, 
 so fervid and daring, so unflinchingly true to the great principles of 
 Liberty, and one whose brilliant qualities of head and heart, amply 
 proved that he was the truest type of chivalry and patriotism, should 
 be suddenly swept out of existence. 
 
 The sons and daughters of the old land, which he loved so well, 
 will bend with infinite tenderness over the sad and awful fate of 
 Thomas Francis Meagher, the daring leader, the brilliant orator, the 
 genial fi-iend and chivalrous gentleman. Sacred memories of my 
 lamented friend come over me at this moment. I hear once more 
 his bright, musical and inspired oration, in which is contained his 
 splendid apostrophe to the sword. It is no wonder that even Henry 
 Grattan exclaimed that Meagher's speeches displayed the talent of 
 Junius, the spirit of Burke, and the courage of Blood and Plunkett. 
 Then his calm, brave address in the Dock when sentenced to be 
 hung and quartered. This was one of the noblest and grandest of 
 speeches. It was distinguished by purity and elegance of composi- 
 tion, as well as by a haughty and gallant defiance of the English 
 butchers, who were thirsting for his blood. This magnificent burst 
 of eloquent indignation is sufficient to make his memory eternal. I 
 have thought that amid the convulsions of expiring worlds Gabriel 
 covering this and Emmett's memorable vindication from the confla- 
 gration, will transfer them to the Throne of the Eternal. We are 
 all familiar with Meagher's great and devoted gallantry during the 
 war for the Union. The dead Gael was always present when the 
 embattled hosts were charging the hottest, performing 'prodigies of 
 valor. 
 
 His farewell words to the Irish Brigade ; his inspiring and noble 
 counsels ; the tokens of love, gratitude, and kindness, which his fiery 
 and splendid soldiers poured upon him as he left them ; his triumphal 
 journey through the North, arousing the dormant patriotism of our 
 people ; his grand orations in defence of the Stars and Stripes, the 
 grandest flag that ever swept the breeze ; these and a thousand other 
 bright and conspicuous chapters of Meagher's eventful life must be 
 left to the historian and biographer. I have before me now, several 
 charming letters which he wrote me from Montana. In every line 
 
20 
 
 there breathes patriotic devotion to America, his adopted country, 
 and to Ireland, his native land. It is sad and mournful to reflect 
 that after escaping the vicissitudes of dreary exile, and the fearful 
 perils of a hundred battles, our dear friend should at last so suddenly 
 perish beneath the resistless waves of the pitiless Missouri. Meagher 
 still lives. His beautiful fancy, persuasive eloquence, and splendid 
 gifts, (devoted to humanity in its broadest, noblest sense) will always 
 plead for that distant isle, in whose behalf Grattan plead and Emmett 
 died. In the great day of Ireland's redemption, when her brave 
 sons unite to break her chains, then Meagher's spirit, like a blazing 
 pillar of fire, will lead them to victory and triumph. 
 
 "With what crushing agony must the sad news of his death, have 
 fallen on his noble wife, who though possessing all the refinements 
 and elegance of a highly cultivated lady, left the splendor of a luxu- 
 rious and opulent home, to follow the fortunes of the Irish Brigade, 
 partaking of the commonest fare, so that as a good angel, she might 
 be ever near her devoted husband. The refined grace of her manner, 
 the loveliness of her person, the sweetness and gentleness of her 
 disposition, — these unrivalled charms before which gallant men 
 bowed in homage, made her the model of elegance and refinement. 
 A lady so accomplished, and so handsome, was worthy to be the 
 peerless wife of the illustrious and beloved Thomas Francis Meagher. 
 In every nation where Irishmen revere the memory of the dead 
 patriot, his noble widow will have their prayers and sympathies. 
 
 Honored Meagher ! true patriot ! gallant soldier ! genial friend ! 
 All hail and farewell ! Take your crown and harp. Dwell forever 
 in beautiful repose. In the grandeur of Eternal peace be the 
 companion of Emmett, of Fitzgerald, of Lincoln, and of all those 
 patriot heroes who, during the recent struggle, fell, making life 
 illustrious and death divine ! 
 
 Adieu ! gallant Meagher ! thou art buried in light ! God speed 
 thee to Heaven, lost star of our night ! Brother of my heart ! friend 
 of my soul ! farewell ! ! 
 
 Thomas Davis, another of that splendid host, brave-hearted, highly 
 gifted Davis, lies in the cold clay in Glassneven. He fell in the 
 ranks, and was lost to Ireland forever. " My work is hilling me" 
 were almost his last words. " I read with dimmed eyes," wrote 
 O'Connel, "the noblest youth of his time was no more." Davis 
 possessed a soft, sweet voice. His poems are instinct with heroic 
 
21 
 
 life. The following stanzas of one of his poems exhibit tenderness 
 and pathetic passion : — 
 
 " Come in the evening, or come in the morning, 
 Come when you are looked for, or come without warning, 
 Kisses and welcome you will find here before you, 
 And the oftener you come the more I'll adore you, 
 Light is my heart since the day we were plighted, 
 Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted ; 
 The green of the trees looks far greener than ever, 
 And the linnets are singing, true lovers don't sever." 
 
 His political songs were like the blasts of a trumpet, arousing the 
 careless, and summoning the victims of tyranny to tireless action for 
 life and land. For instance, what more thrilling than this ? 
 
 What rights the brave ? 
 
 The sword. 
 What frees the slave ? 
 
 The sword. 
 What strikes the crown of tyrants down, 
 And answers with its flash their frown ? 
 
 The sword. 
 
 John Mitchell was a deft controversalist, always ready for a 
 polemic combat, an uncompromising and unconquered rebel against 
 the English government. His manner is that of the essayist who 
 reads and comments, rather than that of the orator who captivates. 
 "While admiring his splendid genius and unselfish devotion to Ireland, 
 every lover of liberty was shocked by his apostacy to the slave 
 power and defence of the horrid rebellion. 
 
 Then there was John Martin, a cultivated gentleman, distinguish- 
 ed for the finished dignity of his manner, and a Republican in prin- 
 ciple and practice. He has recently been seized by the officers of 
 England for a few earnest words spoken in condemnation of the 
 Manchester massacre. 
 
 Managan possessed a mind of great originality, a strong and fervid 
 imagination. Joseph Brennan, who sleeps beside him, was a clever, 
 genial and charming poet. The following lines possess much sweet- 
 ness and grace : — 
 
 " Come to me, dearest — I'm lonely without thee, 
 Day-time and night-time, I'm thinking about thee ; 
 Night-time and day-time, in dreams I behold thee, 
 Unwelcome my waking which ceases to fold thee. 
 Come to me darling, my sorrows to lighten, 
 Come in thy beauty to bless and to brighten, 
 Come in thy womanhood, meekly and lowly; 
 Come in thy lovingness, queenly and holy. 
 
22 
 
 Come to me dear, ere I die of my sorrow, 
 
 Rise on my gloom like the sun of to-morrow, 
 
 Strong, swift and fond as the words which I speak, love, 
 
 With a song at your lip, and a smile on your cheek, love. 
 
 Come, for my heart in your absence is weary — 
 
 Haste, for my heart is sickened and dreary ; 
 
 Come to the arms which alone should caress thee, 
 
 Come to the heart which is throbbing to press thee." 
 
 This beautiful poem was written by poor Brennan to his wife in 
 Ireland, when he was an exile in New Orleans. 
 
 Richard Dalton Williams was a fine scholar and a charming poet. 
 He was so gentle, and so transparent, that one could not help loving 
 him. He was a medical student in Dublin, and his beautiful song 
 of the "Dying Girl," was composed while discharging his duties at 
 the Hospitals. He came to America, and was engaged for a time in 
 a College as Professor, and died in New Orleans, greatly beloved. 
 His poems are rich, sweet, clear, and melodious, replete with beauti- 
 ful imagery. His truly touching and beautiful lines on the " Dying 
 Girl," are much admired, and have attained a wide popularity in 
 Ireland and America. 
 
 From a Munster vale they brought her, 
 
 From the pure and balmy air, 
 An Ormond's peasant daughter, 
 
 With blue eyes and golden hair. 
 They brought her to the city 
 
 And she faded slowly there, 
 Consumption hath no pity 
 
 For blue eyes and golden hair. 
 
 When I saw her first reclining, 
 
 Her lips were moved in prayer, 
 And the setting sun was shining 
 
 On her loosened golden hair. 
 When our kindly glances met her, 
 
 Deadly brilliant was her eye, 
 And she said that she was better, 
 
 While we knew that she must die. 
 
 At length the harp is broken, 
 
 And the spirit in its strings, 
 As the last decree is spoken, 
 
 To its source exulting springs. 
 Descending swiftly from the skies 
 
 Her guardian angel came, 
 He struck God's lightning from her eyes, 
 
 And bore him back the name. 
 
 L.lH l*. 
 
23 
 
 To the distinguished list of these who first and longest upheld the 
 rebel flag against England in '48, must be added the name of the 
 noble conspirator, Thomas Devin Reilly, a polished gentleman and 
 a brilliant scholar. I am at a loss which most to admire, the intrepid 
 leader who marshalled the conflict with injustice and tyranny, or the 
 devoted patriot who sacrificed property, and the joys of a happy 
 home, that Ireland might be delivered from the cowardly and treach- 
 erous English Parliament. The last hours of this gifted patriot, 
 gallant traitor, and enthusiastic friend of liberty, demonstrated that 
 the noble passion of his life was strong in death. John Mitchell, 
 his devoted friend, tells how that with his dear wife at his side, and 
 his little daughter playing at his knee, he calmly and grandly died, 
 like a true Irish patriot. Thank God our martyrs die well. 
 Reilly's thirtieth birthday arrived, and he knew his fate was come. 
 He was in good health, but told his wife he must die. He often 
 started up, threw open the window, and said the room smelled of 
 Death. To his powerful imagination every thing was an omen of 
 doom, and at night he heard the Banshee of his clan wailing along 
 the shores of the Potomac. The last night of his earthly existence, 
 he called his household around him, filled a bumper, and there 
 standing on his floor, looking calmly into his early grave, with a> 
 bold and sunny smile upon his lip, and tears streaming down his 
 rough face, he pledged his last toast, — Old Ireland. After that 
 touching good night to "Ireland," he retired in his usual health ; in 
 the morning he was a corpse. Talk of heroic deaths. I challenge 
 the world to exhibit a single instance worthy of being placed by the 
 side of such a grand, beautiful example. 
 
 There were others, equally distinguished, who sacrificed all for 
 the old land. John Savage, the scholar, essayist, and poet. Charles 
 Gavan Duffy, one of nature's most gifted orators. Michael Doheny, 
 tho fearless champion of Democracy, and such familiar names as 
 McManus, Dillon, O'Gormon, O'Doherty, Smythe, Davis the Belfast 
 man, and the charming female poets, Speransa and Eva. 
 
 The young Ireland movement produced its legitimate effect— the 
 revolutionary Literature generated by these brilliant scholars and 
 orators, was not banished with its authors ; their songs, essays, 
 speeches, fell on the fiery Irish heart like sparks of electric fire. 
 The Republican spirit was not quenched, but only waited for an 
 opportunity to flame forth with greater intensity and power. Years 
 
24 
 
 rolled on, and thousands of our race starved to death by British 
 agencies. New taxes, new coercion bills, new insults, new robberies 
 were inflicted upon the suffering people. At last a decision was 
 formed. The intelligent and energetic classes resolved and prepared 
 to make their proud demand for life and independence. The Fenian 
 Brotherhood was organized. In a few years it created and fostered 
 a literature of its own, it enrolled tens of thousands in its ranks, and 
 increased more and more until the attention of the civilized world 
 was called to the wrongs of Ireland. 
 
 Its chief object is the resurrection of Irish nationality. It advo- 
 cates civil liberty, religious toleration and education, believing that a 
 people to be free must be educated. Its grand principles are those 
 of Swift and Jefferson : " That all governments, without the consent 
 of the governed, is the very definition of slavery." Its immediate 
 mission in Ireland is the establishment of a republic based on that 
 sublime truth, grand as the heavens stretched over our heads, "That 
 all men are created equal." During the eight years of its existence 
 it has excited the sympathies of mankind everywhere for Ireland ; 
 it has spread its ramifications all over the British isles ; has called 
 forth the admiring applause of the American Congress ; has shaken 
 the wooden walls of old England, and has created a sentiment in 
 Great Britain and throughout the world, which demands that justice 
 be done to Ireland. The English nobleman talked with thoughtless 
 impudence when he asserted that Fenianism was put down. In the 
 language of Sam Weller, in Pickwick, " It can't be done." The 
 like never was attempted, only when Xerxes flung chains at the 
 Hellespont : — 
 
 " And over that foolish deed has pealed 
 The loud, long laugh of a world." 
 
 The Irish cause is hopeful ; this is the brightest hour that unhappy 
 Erin has ever seen ! 
 
 " Thou art not dead, my country; thou art not conquered; 
 Beauty's ensign is yet crimson on thy cheeks, 
 And death's pale flag is not advanced there." 
 
 The blow may be struck at any moment. Some of our country- 
 men may regard the whole movement as an extravagant joke. I 
 would say to all such heartless Irishmen what a bey said to a 
 General in New York. During the war a boy met a Brigadier 
 
25 
 
 strutting about the streets of New York, when his soldiers were 
 fighting in the front. The boy cried out from his papers, "Another 
 great battle." The General bought a paper and put up his eye glass 
 to examine it. Not finding what he looked for, he said to the boy : 
 " I don't see any battle here." " No, darn ye," said the boy, " and 
 you never will while you hang round this here town." 
 
 There is a grand battle impending in the old land, but while Irish- 
 men's sympathies are so contracted and their hearts so full of 
 prejudice, they will never see it. 
 
 The great struggle in Ireland will soon commence. Courage rises 
 with danger, and heroism with resolve. Does not our breath come 
 freer, each heart beat quicker, when we read of those rare and grand 
 acts of heroism when all doubt and wavering are flung to the winds, 
 and the soul rises majestic over each petty obstacle — each low, 
 selfish consideration, and flinging off the fetters of prejudice, bigotry 
 and egotism, bounds forward into the higher, diviner life of heroism 
 and patriotism — defiant as a conquerer, devoted as a martyr, omnip- 
 otent as a deity. 
 
 There may be a disposition to doubt the possibility of accomplish- 
 ing the freedom of Ireland. It may be considered as the prompting 
 of a sanguine constitution, and the day dream of an ardent and 
 vivacious fancy. That there are immense difficulties to overcome 
 — that to the progress of Liberty there is opposition such as no other 
 system can encounter, is instantly and candidly acknowledged. 
 There are religious divisions and long continued and deeply rooted 
 prejudices to be crushed. There are the thousands of foolish 
 Orangemen, who dance attendance upon the landlords, who for their 
 own aggrandizement countenance the disgusting mummeries of 
 Orangemen. There are the hundreds of English and Scotch 
 peasants who hold offices under the British Crown. There is the 
 aristocracy, and an army of spies, detectives, and informers. Then 
 again there are the Clergy of all the Churches, with a few honored 
 exceptions, such as the noble Archbishop of Tuam. In spite of all 
 these obstacles, I have a steady faith in the success of our cause, 
 and I affirm, without hesitancy, that the time will come, when 
 grandly as of yore, Ireland, released from the grasp of remorseless 
 Britain, will make her own laws, and be governed by her own 
 children. And O, happy, will the year be, when thus the grand 
 object of patriotic desire shall be accomplished, and the redemption 
 
26 
 
 of the Green Isle shall be achieved. Then the oppressions and 
 indignities of many centuries will disappear, not as by a prolonged 
 process, but with the celerity of enchantment. Then the groaning 
 of the poor for bread, will be hushed ; the woes and miseries of the 
 people which now stalk abroad on the revelry of their sad dominion, 
 will depart ; the passions of party which have long rent the harmony 
 of the nation, will be charmed ; the symbols of bigotry will be taken 
 down, and the entire Island will present a beautiful habitation of 
 Love. 
 
 This is an enterprise worthy of our most earnest and indefatigable 
 efforts. Strive to feel it, my countrymen, in all its grandeur ; let 
 the aspiration breathe in every scene ; be it in the buoyancy of 
 health, and in the languor of sickness, and in the closing agony of 
 death, let your last prayer be for the deliverance of the old land. 
 
 Do you need illustrious examples to inspire ? Need I recall the 
 honored and beloved name of Robert Emmett, who animated by an 
 unquenchable zeal, and inspired by a lofty courage, died for Ireland ; 
 and whose fine heroism and beautiful chivalry, constrained applause 
 even from those who regarded him as an Enthusiast. There is 
 something fine and elevating in the superb manner in which this 
 high spirited youth upheld an oppressed cause, and maintained the 
 majesty of an insulted country. I cannot imagine a greater privilege 
 than the having been admitted to familiar intercourse with one so 
 gifted with every Christian and patriotic virtue. The coldest heart 
 would have caught something of his fire to have heard him deliver 
 that memorable and immortal speech in the dock ; would have nerved 
 even the most cowardly, to have marked his demeanor at the 
 tribunal of the infamous Norbury ; would have taught the oppressed, 
 that there may be liberty in chains, to have been with him in the 
 prison and on the scaffold, when the tyrant's fetters were already 
 upon his limbs, and the tyrant's sword was already unsheathed. 
 There I would like to have observed him ; there I would have 
 communed with him ; there I would have sat at his feet, eager to 
 know what visions were floating before him, and to catch every 
 word that flowed from his lips. "Who can question that there came 
 to him in the solitude of his prison, glorious visitations from the 
 invisible world, and that while the fetters were upon his body, the 
 spirit soared as on eagle's wings, and communed with Regulus, 
 "Winkenried, and the other victims of despotic goverments. Emmett, 
 
27 
 
 on the eve of his martyrdom, must have gazed with rapture on the 
 resurrection of that proud and glorious land, for whose sake he cheer- 
 fully offered up his life. 
 
 Shall I continue to cite the familiar names of such daring con- 
 spirators as Porter, Barber, McNeil, and Stevelly, Presbyterian 
 ministers who died on the scaffold. Sinclair, Jackson, Simpsonj 
 Wiley, Episcopalian parsons who were united Irishmen. Russell, 
 McCracken, Neilson, Monroe, Rowan, Harvey, Bond, Simms, 
 Butler, the Tennants. Protestant gentlemen who were among the 
 foremost and most desperate of the Irish Rebels of 1798. Then 
 the brave and devoted Catholic priests, such as Murphy, Kearns, 
 Roche and their compatriots the mention of their names, sends the 
 blood quicker through our veins. May their memories be eternal. 
 Or, coming down to later times, need I refer you to the young and 
 glorious Thomas Davis, who when the laurels of applause were 
 yet green upon his brows, and the road to honor lay open before 
 him, abandoned all, that he might aid in Ireland's regeneration. 
 
 Ireland will yet triumph. She will rise again like a young queen, 
 proud and happy. Prosperity will run like fresh blood through the 
 veins of her people. The green banner will be hailed in the port 
 of Boston. Emmett's epitaph will be written. 
 
 " Oh, the sight entrancing, 
 When the morning's beam is glancing, 
 On files arrayed with helm and blade, 
 In freedom's cause advancing." 
 
 This generous Republic that has furnished so magnificent a 
 shelter for thousands of our countrymen, is with Ireland in the 
 coming struggle. There have always been between the two nations 
 the friendliest sympathies. When Franklin was ordered out of the 
 London Parliament, he went across to Dublin, where he was 
 received with distinguished honors. When King George demanded 
 forty thousand Irishmen to cut the throats of Americans, the Irish 
 Parliament refused to vote a solitary soldier. In 1861, when 
 England threatened a war in case Slidell and Mason were not 
 surrendered, ten thousand Irishmen met in Dublin and resolved to 
 fight beneath the stars and stripes. Every Irish heart throbbed for 
 us in the recent war. Ireland looks to America. The United 
 States, in the language of the GalwaymaD, is " the next parish to 
 Ireland." 
 
28 
 
 The American Congress, the noblest body in the world, has 
 declared its sympathy for our cause. Chandler, Wilson, Nye, 
 Sherman in the Senate ; Banks, Logan, Judd, Robinson in the 
 House, have spoken brave words for the dear old land. The bold 
 and impressive utterances of the President are suggestive and help- 
 ful. The leading editors, have championed the right of Ireland to 
 representative government. The leading members of Congress are 
 in genuine sympathy with our most cherished hopes. The men of 
 thought and action, who smashed the fetters of the slave, are the 
 devoted friends of Irish emancipation. 
 
 We appeal to you to-night — is there a man among you who thinks 
 that Ireland has not been sufficiently degraded in her honor and her 
 rights to justify her now in fiercely turning upon her oppressor ? 
 No, a man so infamous cannot tread the earth ; or, if he does, the 
 voice of the coward is stifled in the dear, wild, ringing shout that 
 leaps from hill to hill ; that echoes from sea to sea ; that peals from 
 the lips of an uprisen nation — " We must be free" 
 
 By the memory of Fitzgerald, brave as a lion, gentle as a lamb ; 
 by the memory of the brothers Sheares, hung on the same scaffold ; 
 by the memory of Wolf Tone, the first to organize Irishmen against 
 the tyrant ; by the memory of the multitudes of revered men, 
 murdered by England ; by the memory of Monroe and his gallant 
 compatriots whose heads were spiked and impaled ; by the memory 
 of Orr, the first to give his life for Union, and Emmett, the last to 
 seal it with his blood ; by the memory of the recent gallant victims 
 of British oppression, let us swear by our hopes of immortality, not 
 only to break the fetters of Ireland, but try to raise her to a glorious 
 elevation — defend her, liberate her, enable her, sanctify her. 
 
29 
 
 The Publisher appends a brief sketch of the life of the author, 
 furnished by the talented correspondent of "The Pilot" Laffan : 
 
 The Peffees of Ireland are of Angelo-Norman stock. John 
 D' Alton traces them back to the period of the invasion. In the 
 ranks of the followers of Richard de Claire, or Clare, Earl of Pem- 
 broke and Strigue, nicknamed, like his father before him, Strongboy, 
 were representatives of the Pippards or Peppers of Devonshire, 
 England. Camden, and in our own times, Dean Butler, credit a 
 William Peppard, Pipard, or Pepper, with the erection of the origi- 
 nal Castle of Trim, Co. Meath. It was rebuilt in the 13th century. 
 Sir Richard Colt Hoare, in his Tour in Ireland, described the 
 decaying structure as the only edifice in the country worthy of the 
 name of Castle. In an historical point of view, it is one of the most 
 important buildings in Ireland. It " proves of great utility to the 
 general interest of the Pale, to which the influence of the English 
 was for many ages confined." Several of the Anglo-Irish 
 parliaments met there. "During the intestine wars of the 17th 
 century " it was repeatedly the scene of important actions. It was 
 dismantled soon after the year 1650 ; and it has ever since remained 
 in a state of progressive decay." 
 
 These Pippards or Peppers were somewhat famous in Anglo-Irish 
 annals as founders of castles, monasteries, etc., especially in and near 
 Ardee, Co. Louth, of which Roger de Pipard obtained a grant soon 
 after the invasion. Ralph de Pipard surrendered the manor to 
 Edward I. A grant of it was made by Edward II. to Sir John 
 Birmingham, subsequently created Earl of Louth. The Pippards, 
 descendants of Roger, were long known as Lords of Ardee, or 
 Athirdee. 
 
 Among the Catholic families of note in Dublin, who, by partici- 
 pating in the famous Irish Insurrection of 1641, incurred the penalty 
 of forfeiture of their estates, was a branch of the Peppards. Though 
 Gilbert, in his History of the city of Dublin, makes no mention of 
 them, D'Alton, in his County History notices them. 
 
30 
 
 When James II. granted, in 1689, a charter to Dragheda, Igna- 
 tius Pippard was Mayor, and two of his name were aldermen, and 
 three, burgesses, of the city. They, like nearly all of their name 
 and blood in Ireland, were Catholics ; and by their adhesion to the 
 fortunes of King James they became practically outlaws in their native 
 land, having been attainted by the representatives of the alien 
 "William of Orange. 
 
 George Pepper, who was editorially identified with the Pilot, in 
 its earliest years, and who, besides his various editorial labors, 
 commenced the publication of a really meritorious History of Ireland, 
 which he lived only to bring down to about the period of the invasion, 
 was a native of the County Louth. His birth place was Tallistown, 
 near Ardee. "He died in Boston [May 11, 1837, at the age of 45 
 years] of a violent cold and fever, caught from stripping off his coat 
 to cover some unfriended countryman of his own."* 
 
 Rev. Geo. W. Pepper, author of the very eloquent address on 
 Ireland's Martyrs, which was published in full in the Pilot, some 
 weeks since, is also a native of the Green Isle. He was educated 
 partly at the Royal Belfast Academical Institution, and partly at 
 Glasgow. 
 
 In his native land, he won honorable distinction, as an earnest and 
 eloquent advocate of the cause of temperance. To him, belonged 
 the honor of having founded there, the Maine Law League, of 
 which he was, for two years, corresponding secretary. He had a 
 sharp controversy on the subject of legal prohibition with Dennis 
 Holland, Esq., then editor of the Ulstermcm. He succeeded in 
 calling attention to the terrible evils of intemperance and the neces- 
 sity of adopting some measures to prohibit the indiscriminate sale of 
 liquors. The first grand meeting, under the auspices of the Maine 
 Law League, was held in Belfast, which was attended by the well 
 known Philanthropists of Dublin, James Haughton and Richard 
 Allen. The organization of branch societies became quite popular. 
 Mr. Pepper was appointed a delegate to the mass meeting, held in 
 Manchester in 1853, at which were present, John Bright, Richard 
 Cobden, James Silk Buckingham (an author of numerous books of 
 travels, and an old friend and correspondent of Mathew Carey, of 
 Philadelphia) who cast all their weight and influence in favor of the 
 temperance reform. 
 
 * Mooney's History of Ireland, published by Mr. Donaboe, vol. I, p. 126. 
 
31 
 
 Mr. Pepper had the pleasure of witnessing the rapid spread of 
 temperance principles in Ulster, before he left his native country, in 
 which, politically, he had been in active connection and sympathy 
 with the Repeal Agitators ; and, subsequently with the Young 
 Irelanders, of which latter party he knew and loved many of the 
 leaders. 
 
 He first met and became acquainted in Belfast, with the lamented 
 Maj. Gen. Meagher, whose friendship Mr. Pepper thereafter enjoyed 
 without interruption up to the time of the terribly sudden death of 
 his beloved young chief, who, while living in Montana, kept up an 
 interesting correspondence with his friend, Chaplain Pepper. So 
 warmly was the noble Meagher esteemed by Mr. Pepper, that the 
 latter had one of his children christened in honor of the fallen hero. 
 In a very affecting letter, recently received by a friend, Mr Pepper 
 thus touchingly mentions his beloved chief : " I loved him living, 
 and mourn him dead. Peace to his ashes, and honor to his beautiful 
 memory. In all my addresses, even in my sermons, I occasionally 
 introduce his name." 
 
 Mr. Pepper emigrated to the United States in 1854 ; and imme- 
 diately entered Kenyon College, Ohio, for the purpose of studying 
 theology. In due time, he was ordained a minister of the Methodist 
 Episcopal Church ; and during the few years preceding the com- 
 mencement of the Civil "War he served his church, most zealously, 
 in the missionary field of labor. 
 
 On the outbreak of the late civil war, in 1861, as an enthusiastic 
 Irish-American, devoted — like the mass of his' element in these 
 States — to the union and institutions of his adopted country, Mr. 
 Pepper, minister though he was of the Gospel of peace, felt obliged 
 by his convictions and duty to give all the aid in his power to his 
 government. He recruited several hundred men for the loyal armies. 
 He was chosen captain of a company of infantry, and chaplain 
 of his regiment, 80th Ohio volunteers, at the same time. He 
 declined the chaplaincy, and led his company into the field of action. 
 During the campaigns in the Mississippi Valley, he was disabled, 
 and forced to resign the command of his devoted band of " soldiers 
 of freedom." His resignation had been scarcely accepted, when he 
 was unanimously elected chaplain of the regiment for the second 
 time. As chaplain, he continued with the command to the close of 
 the war. He participated in the great " March to the Sea," and 
 
32 
 
 thence northward through the Carolinas and Virginia, of the army 
 of General Sherman. Of this famous " flanking movement," he 
 wrote and published an interesting history, which has been highly 
 commended by Secretary Stanton, as also by Major Generals Logan, 
 Howard, McCook, and others. 
 
 About a year since, Mr. Pepper, on the recommendation of his 
 personal friend, and fellow Irish-American, was made a chaplain of 
 the Regular Army, and assigned to duty on the field staff of the 40th 
 U. S. Infantry. The appointment was given to him in consideration 
 of his personal gallantry in several battles, and indefatigable devotion 
 to the sick in hospitals, &c. 
 
 As an Irish-American, of warm and generous impulses, Mr. 
 Pepper has taken a deep interest in the movement of the Fenians to 
 release and exalt their down-trodden fatherland. He met with much 
 hostility from his Church, and also from its Bishops, ministers, 
 members and newspaper writers, because of his military propensities, 
 his devotion to the cause of the Union ; and, above and beyond all 
 else, because of his active sympathy with the Irish Republican 
 leaders. His motives were impugned ; his character was assailed ; 
 and, to " cap the climax " of abuse, he was invidiously denounced as 
 "a Jesuit in disguise." Nevertheless, he kept on his way unflinching- 
 ly, and ultimately so completely triumphed over all opposition, that 
 he had the gratification of witnessing the adoption, by a whole 
 conference of two hundred Methodist preachers, with its presiding 
 Bishop, of a series of resolutions written by himself, and expressive 
 of sympathy with the Fenians in Ireland. 
 
 In the agitation relative to the rights of naturalized citizens, now 
 in progress, Chaplain Pepper has taken an active part. He has 
 been in constant correspondence on the subject, and on the kindred 
 topic of the sufferings and claims of his race, with Senators and 
 Representatives ; and with officials of high rank generally, including 
 Senators Wilson and Chandler, Representative Logan and Chief 
 Justice Chase. In this way, though in official employment in the 
 military service of his adopted country, he has endeavored to the 
 utmost of his fine ability, yet limited opportunity, to discharge his 
 obligations to his native land. 
 
 The headquarters of his command having been, for some time 
 past, at Goldsboro, N.C, this eloquent Irish- American there made 
 it his duty to deliver in the presence of an alien body, and in a 
 Baptist church, the magnificent discourse which entitles him to the 
 lasting gratitude of his " countrymen in exile." His noble "record" 
 is eulogy most meet for this gifted, zealous, and patriotic Irish - 
 American. 
 
mmm^PJ. congress 
 
 OPINIONS OF THEO 021 342 163 3 
 
 NOW READY*. 
 
 The lost Interesting Bool 
 
 Ever Published. 
 
 FENIAN HEROES AND MARTYRS! 
 
 JBY JOHN SAVAGE. 
 
 Historical Introduction on the 
 Struggle for Irish Nationality. 
 
 The Aucient Fenians, What They Wert-, 
 Their Organization, Customa, I ites, 
 fee,, &c. 
 
 Heroes and Maru'v.s. 
 
 1. *COL. THOMAS FRANCIS BOURKB, 
 
 2. *COL. THOMAS J. KELLY, 
 
 3. OAJPr. JOHN vicAFFEIM'Y, 
 
 4. *COL. JOHN J. O'.'ONNOK, 
 
 S (APT. WOKTIMEK MOR1AHTI, 
 
 C. JOSEPH iMKISAX. 
 
 7. CAPT. MICHAEL O'RORKE, (Beecher) 
 
 5. STEPHEN J. MEANT. 
 
 9. CAPT. PATKl K J. CONDON, 
 
 10. PETER O'NEILL CROWLEY, 
 
 11. CAPT. JOHN M'CLURE. 
 
 12. JOHN EDWARD KELLY, 
 
 13. MICHAEL DOHENY, 
 
 U. *GEN. MICHAEL 'ORCORAN, 
 
 15. JOHN O'MAHONY, 
 
 16. JAMES STEPHENS, 
 
 17. *THCMAS CLARKE LUBT, with Sketch ot the 
 Propagandist of '40, 
 
 18. PHILIP GRAY, 
 
 19. *JOHN O'LEARY, 
 
 20. *J. O'DONOVAN ROSSA, with Notices oi 
 "Phoenix" Men— M. Moynahan, Capt. John O'Shoa. 
 Col. R. J. Downing, Col. Denis Downing, 
 
 21. *CHARLES J, KICKHAM, 
 
 22. *DENIS DOWLING MULCAHY 
 
 23. JOHN FLOOD, 
 
 24. EDWARD DUFFY, 
 
 25. MICHAEL CODY. 
 
 26. *GEN. JOHN O'NEILL. 
 BECLARVTIONS IN THE DOCK, with Notices 01 
 
 Moore, the pike maker. John Jlultigan. Bryan Dillon, 
 J. O'DoBovan, Thomas Duggan. Clus. Underwood 
 O'Connell. John B. S. Casey (The Galtee Boy), Mi- 
 chael O'Regan, John Kenneally, James O'Connor, 
 C. M. O'Keefle, Cornelius O'Mahony, C. Dwyer 
 Keane, H. M. Hanly Carey, D. O'Connell, William 
 Roantree, P. J. Heyburne, Jas. Flood, Hugh F. Bro- 
 phy, Patrick Doran, M. A. O'Brennan, John Lynch. 
 
 SWORD AND PEN.— Notices oi Capt. John A. Geary, 
 Capt. Jas. Murphy. Thomas Baines, John K. Casey 
 (Leo), John Locke (The Southern Gael), Arthur 
 Forrester and " The Council ot Ten," Gen. Fariola, 
 National School Masters who were Fenians. 
 
 DARING ESCAPES oi John Kirwan from the Meath 
 Hospital, Col. Leonard irom Drogheda; Release oi 
 Col. Kelly and *Captain Dacey irom the Prison Van 
 In Manchester, and Capt. Laurence O'Brien from 
 Clonmel Jail, with Notices of their Lives. 
 
 "ERIN'S HOPE," the so-called Fenian Privateer, 
 which sailed around Ireland. 
 
 COLS. NAGLE AND WARREN— their case. 
 NOTE.— Those with a * have Portraits. 
 The whole forming a B.*>k oi over live hundred' 
 
 pages— to be hound beautifully in green and gold, with 
 
 suitable devices, and eoid for the low price or $2. Sent 
 
 iree by mail. 
 
 1ERMS. 
 
 For Lots of 100 and upwards, $1.20 per copy nett cash- 
 " under 10U, and not less than 24, $1.27^ per 
 copy nett cash. 
 
 For Lots under 24. $1.35 per copy nett cash. 
 The Cash must accompany the order, otherwise they 
 
 will be sent by express " C. O. D.," with expense ot 
 
 collection added. 
 AGENTS WAN TED— To whom a liberal Discount 
 
 will be made. Address PATRICK DONAHOE, Bos- 
 ton, Mass. 
 
 FENIAN HEROES AND MARTi'RS. Edited with 
 an historical Introduction on "The Struggle tor Irish 
 Nationality," liyJohn Savage, author of "'98 and 
 '48, the Modern Revolutionary History and Litera- 
 ture oi Ireland." &c.,ic. Boston: Putrick Donahoe, 
 pp. 461. Prti 
 
 Mr. Savage is known not only as an Irish 
 patriot and as the chief executive of the 
 Stephens wing of the Fenian Brotherhood, 
 but as a graceful poet, and a uleasant essay- 
 ist. No man is better fitted than he to write 
 the history of the Fenian movement, and to 
 chronicle the fearless patriotism and noble 
 endurance of the Fenian martyrs. His book 
 contains a sketch of the struggle — nine cen- 
 turies old for Irish independence ; the origin 
 of the Fenian Brotherhood, and its history 
 up to the present time, and a full account of 
 the career of those Fenians who have braved 
 death and met imprisonment by their devo- 
 tion to the Irish cause. He writes graphi- 
 cally, and in a spirit of fairness toward all 
 parties, and his book will interest the stu- 
 dent of history quite as much as the enthusi- 
 ast in behalf of Irish nationality. — N. Y. 
 Citizen (Miles O'Reilly's paper). 
 
 "Fenian Heroes and Martrys" is the 
 title of a volume John Savage has writ- 
 ten, and Patrick Donahoe of the The Pilot, 
 has published. It is not necessary for us to 
 say that the Fenians celebrated in this vol- 
 ume were either "heroes" or "martyrs." — 
 For us, each of these are sacred names. — 
 But, without going so far as to carry com- 
 mon people off their feet, it is easy to state 
 that the poor fellows proscribed as Fenians, 
 were gallant and patriotic persons. As such 
 they are entitled to Irish support. — New 
 York Freeman's Journal. 
 
 Fenian Heroes and Martyrs. By John 
 Savage, Boston ; Patrick Donahoe. 
 Baltimore : Kelly & Piet. Price $2. 
 
 This work is bound to be sought after with 
 avidity by those who have at heart the 
 Fenian movement. At any event it contains 
 sketches of noble spirits, who, whatever may 
 be thought of their cause, cannot fail to ex- 
 tort the admiration even of their enemies.— 
 Catholic Mirror.