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TOUR IN AMERICA.

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DIARY

TOUR IN AMERICA.

' In a new circle every character is a study, and every incident an adventure.?
Disraeli's Lothair^ ch, iv%

Rev. M. B. BUCKLEY,
OF CORK, IRELAND.
: Special fHissionarg in JJortfj toerita.anB ffiana&a in 1870 anli 1871.

EDITED BY HIS SISTER KATE BUCKLEY.

Dedicated to the Irish People at Home and Abroad.
PUBLISHED FOR THE EDITRESS IN GREAT BRITAIN, IRELAND,
AMERICA AND CANADA.

DUBLIN:
SEALY, BRYERS & WALKER,
94, 95 & 96 MIDDLE ABBEY STREET.

(ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.)

Egg nob
^rinttS bg
Sealy, Bryers & Walker,
94, 95 & 96 Middle Abbey Street,
Dublin.

A WORD TO THE READER.

At the instance — indeed I might say the urgent request — of
many friends of my deceased brother, the following pages
are, after many years, given to the public. There is no
pretence at book-making in this " Diary of an American
Tour," written by an Irish Missionary Priest in the United
States and Canada. The jottings in his journal were
evidently the impulsive impressions of the moment ; and
it is a matter of question with me whether they were
ever designed for publication, or only meant as pleasant
reminders of interesting circumstances and events.
Yielding, however, to the oft-repeated suggestions of
friends, lay and cleric, on both sides of the Atlantic, I com
mit the Diary to the Press, and to the indulgent consideration
of the Irish people the world over — " indulgent considera
tion," advisedly. There may be found, here and there,
thoughts and opinions savouring of a too free criticism of
persons, parties and principles ; and perhaps had the writer
been spared, and induced to supervise publication, some
angularities would have been filed down, and a few personal

A WORD TO THE READER.

animadversions omitted. I cannot undertake to edit the
work out of its original character ; besides, many of Father
Buckley's best friends have urged that, as his character and
capacity as a Patriot and a Priest are disclosed in these
casual notes, it would be unfair to his memory to take
from their point and piquancy by a too punctilious pruning.
With this apologetic explanation I send forth Father
Buckley's experiences of a Tour on the American Continent.
KATE BUCKLEY.

CONTENTS,

CHAPTER. pAGE,
I. THE VOYAGE FROM IRELAND, - - i
II. ASHORE, ... - 14
III. NIAGARA, 28
IV. THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN, - 37
V. QUEBEC AXD THE SAGUENAY, 66
VI. THE LAND OF THE BLUE NObEb, - 87
VII. ST. JOHN. GOOD-BYE TO CANADA, I04
VIII. THE "ATHEXS OF AMERICA," AND SOME OF THE
ATHENIANS.— THE EMPIRE CITY, - I36-2IO
IX. " A PRIESTLY FENIAN,'' - - - 229
X, NEW YORK IN SUMMER, - - - 252
XI. A TRIP IN LEATHERSTOCKING'S LAND, - 309
XII. CONCLUSION, - - » ¦ " 32S

APPENDIX.
FUGITIVE PIECES IN VERSE AND PROSE, • - 345
FACETI/E. - - 38l

OF A
Tour in North America.

CHAPTER I.
THE VOYAGE FROM IRELAND.
May 22nd, 1870. — A clergyman and myself were appointed
by our Bishop to make a tour through America for the pur
pose of raising funds for the completion of the Catholic
Cathedral of Cork. We arranged to sail by the Cunard
Royal Mail steamer " China," which was to leave Queens-
town on Sunday, May the 22nd. The day at length arrived,
and, accompanied by an immense concourse of friends, we
proceeded by the 2 o'clock train to Queenstown direct. On
arriving there we found a still larger gathering of our fellow-
citizens, who had come to bid us farewell. The " Jackall "
(tender) was soon filled, and, when it could hold no more,
slipped its moorings and proceeded to the "China,'' which
lay v»thin the harbour's mouth. The hundreds who could
not come on board saluted us with waving hats and hand
kerchiefs from the pier. We reached the " China," and,
much to the surprise of the passengers who had come from
Liverpool, the " Jackall " discharged its whole living freight
on board. There was incessant shaking of hands with us,
last words of hope and encouragement, words of love and
promised remembrance, parting sighs and tears ; this lasted
for more than half-an-hour, the big ship examined in

2 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
every nook and corner by the curious visitors, and the
whole spectacle brilliant and gay with decent citizens and
comely women, from the lady of rank to the kitchen-
maid, for all love the priest alike. Then the whistle sounded
a retreat, parting words and hand-shaking were renewed and
redoubled, and the " Jackall " became filled once more with
its gay freightage ; she accompanied us out until we got
fairly to sea ; then she was loosed, and our distance became
greater and greater every moment. Suddenly our parting
friends raised a shout, a cheer, such as can be given only in
Ireland ; it was again and again repeated, hats and hand
kerchiefs waving from every hand, every eye turned towards
us, while we, standing on the bridge, returned the adieux of
our friends with all the vigour and earnestness which can be
expressed in the gyration of a hat.
Soon the tender was lost to sight, and we stood out to sea.
We then proceeded to the saloon, where dinner was prepared.
Our cabin passengers numbered 86 ; steerage, 350. We had
a table to ourselves. With us were Mr. John Morgan Smith
and his wife, married only the Thursday before. After
dinner we proceeded to the deck, where we viewed with
pleasure the waning beauties of the Southern coast. I see
far off the hills to whose tops I had often climbed, and,
nearer, the bays and creeks where I had bathed and boated
in the days of old lang syne. Shall I ever return to behold
them again ? God only knows. This Atlantic is a very
wide expanse of water, and big ships go down into the sea
and are never heard of more.
We sing as twilight falls, and Mrs. Smith, a handsome
young American lady, who has a splendid voice, attracts a
good deal of attention by her part of the performance.

THE VOYAGE FROM IRELAND. 3
Thus, in a half-dreamy state of feeling, with a curious
mingling of pleasure and sadness, we spend our first evening
on the broad Atlantic.
Monday, May 23rd. — I am the only one of my party,
numbering six, that appears at breakfast ; all are confined
to their berths with sea-sickness. I pace the deck from
6 till the breakfast hour ; the birds that last evening followed
in our wake have all disappeared, and we are now apparently
the sole inhabitants of the vasty deep. No craft appears in
sight the whole live-long day ; we are as much alone as if
the Western country had never been discovered ; the wind
blows freshly and the ship pitches pleasantly, and I enjoy
the whole scene.
I now begin to look about me, and to view the pas
sengers. We often hear of the fraternal feeling that
grows up at sea among those who travel together for
any length of time ; I wait to see when this feeling is to
spring up, but the process is slow ; no more than three
people have spoken to me to-day, a Mr. Springer, of Spring
field, 111., a Mr. Moorehead, of Philadelphia, a Dr. Strong,
of Cleveland, Ohio. The first of these gentlemen is a pure
American, a lawyer, and of most agreeable manners. Mr.
Moorehead is an elderly gentleman, tall and active ; he is
accompanied by his wife, her daughter, Miss Badger, his son,
a fine young gentleman, and Miss Bradbury, a friend ; they
are returning after a tour through Europe, Egypt and the
Holy Land. Mr. Moorehead opens a conversation with me.
He is of American birth, but of North of Ireland parents ;
is a member of the celebrated New York Banking firm,
J. Cook and Co. Dr. Strong is an Irishman, over twenty

4 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
years in America, thoroughly Hibernian, with the unmis
takable accent, and a fund of quiet humour ; he has made
his fortune ; and is returning with his wife and son, after a
year's stay in Ireland.
Up to noon to-day we have made from Queenstown 241
miles. Tuesday, May 2/tfh. — This day is fine, and the wind
falls to save steam ; so we hoist, sails and the vessel looks
more important in her full dress. At breakfast only two
of our party besides myself appear, and even they
fly precipitately at the bare sight of edibles which only
stimulate the appetites of myself and my equally fortunate
fellow-voyagers. By a chasm created at the dinner table owing to
the absence of two young ladies, I am thrown into imme
diate proximity with a young gentleman, who I find is
a Frenchman. He is studying a French-English conversa
tion book, while I am engaged at Ollendorff's French
method. A happy thought strikes me — to enter into a
compact with him that during the voyage I should teach
him English while he taught me French. He is delighted
with the proposal. " Je ne demands pas mieux " he
says. So we proceed to business at once. We exchange
cards, and he learns to pronounce my name though not
without an effort. ' Strange, however, as my name was to
him, his was more extraordinary to me. He was named
" Jules Osuchowski," — born in Paris of a Polish father. He
can translate English very well, but can scarcely speak a
word j while his whole ambition is to speak it as well as I
speak French. After every meal — and there are four each

THE VOYAGE FROM IRELAND. 5
day— we translate and converse, and make very rapid
progress. Up to noon to-day we have made 303 miles, but we
feel very lonely, having seen no signs of life anywhere beyond
the ship — no birds, no fish, no passing sail all round the
horizon. To-day I make new acquaintances, and am compensated
for the absence of my sick friends.
Wednesday, May 252VZ. — The day is very wild and stormy ',
the ship rolls and pitches and the wind makes a tremendous
noise through the cordage and canvas over our heads j it is
impossible to walk a yard in a straight line, and I am quite
sore from constant leaning against tables and railings in the
saloon. I am deprived of all control of my power of move
ment, and once rush frantically into the arms of a gentleman
who has his back fixed for safety against the wall. I join
with a few gentlemen in a game of whist to kill time ; but
the cards are tossed about and get mixed, and we must
give up.
Outside the saloon door, at the head of the staircase, a
number of us gather and we sing, sometimes solos and
sometimes in concert. This gives great satisfaction to
ourselves, but much more, it appears, to people lying in
their berths who have nothing to do but to listen. They
afterwards declared they were delighted.
I go on deck with some difficulty, as the wind sternly
opposes my progress. It is a magnificent spectacle —
the huge waves rushing by at a furious pace; great
seas rolling into the ship at the bow and filling the air
with spray ; the sailors clad in shapeless garments of oil-

6 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
cloths, hoisting or reefing sails ; the boatswain's whistle or
his loud voice directing their movements, and the great ship
riding on in its toilsome course with all the grace and
majesty of a high-mettled charger. I and a few others stand
near the funnel which shelters us by its bulk, and warms by
its heat.
The wind rises higher and higher ; it roars louder and
louder, and I begin to fear a hurricane, when the captain
(Macaulay) appears amongst us, looking cool and
whiffing a cigar with the nonchalance of a paterfamilias in
the midst of his penates. " Good morning, gentlemen ! "
he > says in a gruff basso. " Good morning, captain," we
reply. " Fine weather this ! " he cries in the same tone, but
apparently with a keen sensation of pleasure. We all burst
out laughing at the captain's notion of fine weather, but we
felt relieved nevertheless. I had intended to ask the cap
tain whether this was a hurricane, but felt ashamed after
his remark ; but at length a squall came that made the
ship lurch and halt in her course like a frighted steed ; it
whistled like a tortured spirit, and roared though the rigging
in a hideous discord of agony. " Captain," I asked, with
affected coolness, "I suppose this is what you would call — — "
I was still ashamed to say hurricane — "at least half a
gale ? " " Half a gale ! " cried the skipper, contemp
tuously. " No ; this is what we sailors call a stormy wind,"
and he turned on his heel, chuckling at the landsman's
notion of a gale. Stormy wind, thought I. Good gracious
what must a hurricane be !.
I go into the saloon, and my French friend and I
do a big lesson of French and English. The difficulty
of going outside throws us very much together, and we

THE VOYAGE FROM IRELAND. 7
have all got thoroughly into the fraternizing spirit. I find one
of the passengers has got himself into a warm controversy
with an Indiana gentleman who contends that the utmost
latitude should be allowed for obtaining divorce between
man and wife. He would look upon the slightest inequality
of temper as a sufficient ground. The other gentleman has the
support of the general moral sense of the passengers, and
carries his point. The Indianian is shunned for the rest of the
voyage, especially as he subsequently proclaimed himself an
Atheist. To-day we made 330 miles up to noon. The clock is put
back half-an-hour every day at 12. We discover two ships
1 to-day in the offing, and we are pleased with the additiona'
sight of Mother Carey's chickens.
Thursday, May 26th. — The wind has abated and the sea
is calm, the sun shines, and the air is balmy. Almost all
the passengers come on deck, and we now see many faces
for the first time — faces of those who had been sick. There
is a general feeling of pleasure all around ; the steerage
passengers too are all up and seem to enjoy the happy
change. Two large ships are in view— one passes us at right
angles almost half a mile ahead. We speak her. She is the
" Mary Carson," bound from England to New York. She
salutes us by a flag raised above the stern, and we return it
in the same way. " A rather stern salutation !" I say to a
few bystanders. "One would expect it to have been
made at the bow," said Mr. Springer, and he receives the
applause due to his superior wit.
After dinner a large party of us sit on deck— the Moore
head party — including the Misses Badger and Bradbury,

8 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
forming the nucleus of it. We have a series of songs all
round. My friend and I have to do the most of the
singing. Miss Badger is very smart, lively, and pretty.
She throws out a vast collection of conundrums, but I
answer them easily, having heard them all before. Her
memory for events is equally good, so we are all very
pleasant and happy, and the voyage loses the tedium of
monotony. Dr. Strong and I spend the evening with the
purser — a very agreeable man.
From noon of yesterday up to noon to-day we only
made 244 miles owing to the strong wind. My Frenchman
speaks English much better, and I am becoming quite
aufait. Friday, May 27th. — The sea is very calm to-day but the
air is bitterly cold — cold as winter. I don't mind it as I
have a grand frieze coat which excites the envy of some
American gentlemen, one of whom vainly offers twice its
value for it. Nearly every one is on deck to-day. The
great cold, we are told, indicates that we are not far from
icebergs — an unpleasant discovery — but fortunately there is
no fog, so that should we encounter those terrors of the deep
we would not be wholly unprepared for the event. But no
iceberg appears ; we see, however, two or three ships, but
they are far away, and a huge whale is seen near us,
spouting up columns of water from the smooth surface ot
the sea.
The gentlemen of our company, amongst all of whom
with few exceptions, a warm spirit of friendship seems to
have started up, amuse themselves by betting' on the num
ber of miles we will have run up to noon; this they do every

THE VOYAGE FROM IRELAND. 9
day ; we make 309, and several pounds are won and lost on
the event.
After lunch we have a great gathering on deck, the
Mooreheads, Mr. Springer and ourselves. Mr. Springer is a
general favourite, and laughs so heartily at everything and is
so natural and genial. We all have great singing and
punning. The whole body of cabin passengers flock to hear
the songs and jokes. I tell my Frenchman story and we
produce quite a sensational effect.
At four o'clock we proceed to dinner, and just as
we are in the middle of that important portion of the
day's business, the cry rings through the cabin, "An ice
berg, an iceberg." The passion of hunger fiercely rules
the human breast, but curiosity appears to hold over man
kind a still more exciting influence. There was a grand rush
from the dinner-table to see the iceberg. I gazed through
the window above me and saw it at a great distance ahead,
so I resolved to finish my dinner and view the wonder after
wards, which I did The deck was crowded, even ladies who
had not left their berths from the beginning flocked up to see
the iceberg — there it was, when we were nearest to it, almost
a quarter of a mile distant, a huge mountain of ice standing a
hundred feet out of the water and about eight hundred feet
in length, solitary, white and formidable, slowly floating away
from its arctic home and seeking involuntarily the latitudes
where it must melt and perish. It was a novel and magni
ficent spectacle.
All the passengers are on the most familiar terms ; we
sing and tell stories together on deck, the ladies reclining
in easy and rocking chairs, the gentlemen in all kinds
of attitudes ; and there is great laughing and merriment.

i o DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A MERICA.
Miss Badger, who is very clever and interesting, goes in for
amusement in a business-like manner; she organizes concerts
for the saloon every evening, in which her friend, Miss
Bradbury and I are to be the principal performers ; these
concerts are duly advertised to come off at half-past nine,
after supper, and we use the phraseology of full-dress and
reserved seats, and carriages ordered at eleven, and a good
deal more that amuses us by its very innocence ; indeed it
struck me forcibly that a sea voyage has a tendency to
develop all the good qualities of human nature and to keep
the bad in abeyance.
Saturday, May 28th.- — Very cold, winterish, biting weather.
We are on the banks of Newfoundland ; it is always cold here
we are told. Cape Race is the nearest land, but it is a dis
tance of 195 miles. All passengers come on deck. There are
fishing boats all around us. We see whales and shoals of por
poises and ships enough now. There is great betting on the
distance since yesterday; we make 331 miles. A Jew
named Soboloski is nearly always successful ; he is a pearl
fisher, and one who has travelled the world. I should not
like to bet with him upon anything. We have among the
passengers men and women from all parts of the world —
a strange gathering — but almost all speak the English
language. Sunday, May 29M. — Tremendous fog, the steam-whistle
sounding all the time, a very unpleasant sound, for it warns
ofthe danger of collision, and a collision on the high seas is
a fearful thing. I find out a young Irishman, Dr. O'Brien,
who had been either too modest or too sick to make him
self known until now. He has an awful Irish accent and

THE VOYAGE FROM IRELAND. n
manner of speaking. " Good morrow, Doctor," I begin.
" Good morrow, Father B.," he replies; "foggy weather,
this — very." "I trust," said I, "there is no danger of a
collision." " Well," said he, in a tone and with an accent
impossible to put to paper, " if we meet any of them small
crafts, we'd be bully enough for 'em ! but if we meet our
match — begor, that would be a horse of another colour."
Prayers are announced for 10^ in the saloon. The doctor
(ofthe ship) is to read the Service. With a delicate attention
which I appreciated highly, the Captain, of his own impulse,
placed his own cabin at my disposal, where I could give
prayers for such Catholics as I might find on board. I could
only find a Mr. Loving, a Spanish gentleman, and Doctor
O'Brien. The ladies were indisposed, and the young French
man would not come, although solicited: I recited the
rosary. After the saloon service was over, a deputation
waited on me, with a request that I would deliver a sermon
for the whole congregation; but I was deterred by the
novelty and difficulty of the task, and respectfully declined.
There was no singing, nor betting, nor indeed anything
profane, in the mildest sense of the word ; but we consoled
ourselves by talking over the concert of the previous
evening. A volunteer, a young gentleman from America,
amused us very much by his imitation of the mocking bird.
Even the Frenchman came out spontaneously with some
French ditties.
This was a stupid day ; we registered 332 miles since
yesterday. After dinner fog came on, and the steam-whistle
shed a gloom over us all.
Monday, May 30th. — The whistle went on all night and

12 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
all morning. Everything dull and uninteresting. We see
nothing, and fear everything. The Frenchman and I
spend half the day at the languages, and have both made
wonderful progress. All crowd into the saloon, and the day
and night are spent in chat, and anecdote, song, and other
amusements. Tuesday, May 3 1st. — One of the passengers teaches Miss
Badger and Miss Bradbury the " Bells of Shandon," to which
they have taken an extraordinary fancy. The ship stops for
the first time since we left Ireland to take soundings, for the
fog still continues.
There is great betting on the pilot-boat which will first
meet us ; there are 24 entries, and a pool of -£6 is made at
5s. per head. I invest. The fog clears off, and we anxiously
look for the pilot-boat. My number is Nine. At length the
boat is seen a long way ahead. The purser, through a glass,
discovers the number to be One. The Jew who overheard the
observation went to the saloon, and found out the gentleman
who had drawn number One. He offers him four pounds for
his chance ; the gentleman, a Spaniard, consents, and thus the
Jew, by a stratagem scarcely moral, makes two pounds profit.
The pilot comes aboard ; he brings some American papers,
which are eagerly seized and read. We hear, for the first
time, of the frustrated Fenian raid on Canada, of the deaths
of Mark Lemon and Sir John Siemen.
We soon sight land — Long Island on the right, and
by-and-by Long Branch on the left. Nearer and nearer
we approach to land ; we pass Sandy Hook, and about
seven p.m. are anchored in quarantine outside Staten Island.
The sea is soft and calm, and all is still around ; night

THE VOYAGE FROM IRELAND. 13
falls balmy, and the lamps from the houses and streets are
reflected in the sleepy tide ; steamboats, with red and blue
lights, glide like visions above the quiet water.
Our voyage is at an end, but we must have one pleasant
night yet. Charley Strong, the doctor's son, for the first
time produces his violin, and there is dancing on deck which
is kept up to a late hour. We then have some songs, and the
effect on the Staten Islanders must need have been agree
able. We retire to our berths, and feel sad that the
pleasures (modified by steam-whistle) of the last nine days
will soon be past for ever.
Wednesday, June ist. — All up at 5 o'clock — morning
lovely — I converse with a man to whom I had not spoken
from the beginning of the voyage. I said we had a pleasant
passage, to which he assented. Our singing, I said, was
agreeable. "Yes," he replied, "but I'll tell you a curious
thing. It is astonishing how easily you amateurs amuse
people. Now, if I went about making free among the
passengers any night during the voyage I should have made
them laugh until they could laugh no more — either that they
would have been so disgusted that they could not have
laughed at all." This was all a puzzle to me ; I could not
understand it. He opened his coat and pointed to several
medals hung on his vest. I inspected the first that came to
hand and found it was a presentation of the citizens of
Geneva to Tony Denver, the clown, for his talent in that
character on the stage. The other medals were presenta
tions from the citizens of other places. A clown may be
amusing on the stage, but a very uninteresting character on
a sea voyage.

14 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
All on deck at half-past six, and we scarcely recognise each
other in our various costumes, every one being dressed to meet
again the outer world. After breakfast we prepare to land.
There is a general handshaking, and many interchanges of
mutual remembrances are made. The captain seems quite
affected at our parting from him. We all hope to meet
each other again, though we know • that we shall never
all meet till summoned together by the last trumpet.

CHAPTER II.
ASHORE.

It is past. Four of us enter a carriage belonging to the
Metropolitan Hotel into which our luggage also is stowed.
We proceed ; soon we find our carriage gets stopped
in a narrow passage ; we appear to be blocked up ; there
are carriages before and behind us ; at either side of us is
a wooden wall. There is a sound of a steam engine some
where in the neighbourhood. Every moment we expect the
way to be cleared so that we may pass, but we remain
at a standstill. " Well," I exclaimed, "if this be what they
call American progress, it is the slowest I ever saw."
" Oh ! " said my friend, " it is ridiculous. I will speak to
the driver." And, putting his head out of the window, he
cried, " Driver ! " but there was no response. At length
he jumped out of the carriage, determined to push matters
forward. I then put my head out of the window, and, look
ing ahead, I saw that the horses, carriages, people, wooden
walls, steam engine, floor and all were moving at a rapid
pace across the water, and that, in fact, we were simply in a

ASHORE.

iS

monster ferryboat, steaming from Jersey City to New
York We reach the Metropolitan, a vast hotel in Broadway.
We enter an immense hall, with marble pavement and
Corinthian pillars. A number of negro servants take
down our luggage. At a large counter we write down
our names in the Visitors' Book, and are billeted off
to our several rooms, which are on the third floor,
whither we are quickly transported by a vertical railway
or lift. Our luggage follows, and in a few minutes we
are in our room, with all our baggage around us. Charley,
a dark servant, is most attentive. He points out all the
conveniences of the house, brings us ice-water, the news
papers, pen and ink. We have only to ring for Charley,
and Charley will be with us in an instant. We write home
at once to our friends, and thus acquit ourselves, first of all,
of what we consider a sacred duty.
We dine at 5 — sumptuous dinner, served by negroes
There are none but black servants here. The saloon
is immense in proportion and rich in decorations, and
the darkies lounge and move about in a very free
and easy manner. Father Mooney comes and meets
me for the second time. I had met him in Ireland
two years ago, when he was making a tour through
Europe. He is pastor of St Brigid's here. He is kind
and good-natured, and very generously invites Us to stay
at his house while we are in New York, or as long as
we please. Next day we pay our bill at the Metropolitan.
At 10 the waggon comes to fetch our luggage and the car
riage to convey us to the Chateau Mooney.
Soon another carriage and pair are at the door. We

1 6 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
are to go off with him to the races on Long Island.
We are curious to see American racing, and readily
comply. We reach Brooklyn, pass through Prospect Park
— a young park yet, but one of great promise. The
" races " are very different from ours at home and rather
disappointing. There is to be sure a good course, and a
grand stand, and quite a number of carriages, and ladies and
gentlemen ; but the people are not here — there is no crowd,
no excitement, no bustle or noise ; tents there are none ; the
thimble-rigger and trick-o'-loop man are nowhere to be found,
and even " Aunt Sally" is a non-est woman once in her life.
It is to be a trotting match ; no horseback business, but a lot
of men are mounted on what we call gigs at home — gigs of
the slightest conceivable structure made of hickory, and these
are to do the trotting match. We get on the grand stand ;
the race is about to come off, and the horsemen strive to get
themselves into position. A false start, the bell rings and
calls them back. Again they try it. Another false start, and
another bell. This goes on for at least a dozen times, till it
becomes quite disgusting, and the horses are worried and
tired, and the race is, in fact, spoiled. When it does come
off there is no excitement about it ; the course is rounded
once, a mile heat, and all is over. This repeated several
times, constitutes the whole.
We reach Brooklyn rather late, and sup at the house of
a Mr. Levi, one of the gentlemen who accompanied us.
We then get home at a seasonable hour, chat over the
events of the day, and retire.
Friday, June yd. — We commence business to-day, and
make 525 dols. We drive through the Central Park

ASHORE. 17
which is indeed magnificent, and which may fairly com
pete with the " Bois de Boulogne," both in its park
like splendour and in the gay and brilliant style of its
equipages, which roll through it in quick succession
and in multitudinous array all through the afternoon.
A splendid band played for the amusement of the people,
who listened with great attention, and displayed a praise
worthy decorum as well in their costume as in their conduct.
We dined to day at Brooklyn. We had a very agreeable
evening, especially as almost all the guests, numbering about
twenty, were from the " beautiful city." Before dinner we
drove out to Greenwood Cemetery, which is the most beau
tiful I have ever seen. Why do people speak so much of
Pere la Chaise ? Greenwood is a paradise. You enter by
a magnificent gate of brown stone, with carvings representing
appropriate passages from the Life of Christ. This gateway
is of great magnitude as well as of beauty. The grounds,
which form a very large area, are undulating, with lovely
sloping lawns, hedges, and borders, and paths running along
in every direction. Trees abound, especially willows ; and
there are some charming lakes, into which those willows
droop. The paths and avenues have romantic names — such
as Violet Path, Vision Path, Fountain Hill, Amaranth
Glade, Rose-dew Bower, &c, &c. The tombs and monuments
charm by their splendour and variety ; some are of enormous
magnitude. On the whole, it is impossible to conceive a
cemetery more beautiful.
In the evening we went to hear the Rev. Henry Ward
Beecher in his tabernacle. The building was filled, and
it was curious to observe the number of means employed to
temper the excessive heat. The preacher stood without

18 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
any peculiar costume on a platform. There were an arm
chair, a table, and flowers all round ; there was nothing
remarkable in his style or delivery.
Coming home to night by Fulton Ferry saw three dis
tinct fires amongst the shipping ; the engines were hard at
work. My friend and I having received an invitation to an
evening party, we attired ourselves in full dress, and ordered
a carriage. We drive to Park Avenue, and the splendid
mansion of our host was strikingly manifest to our admiring
vision by a vast array of gorgeous equipages disgorging
their fashionable occupants at its door. A verandah extempo
rized for the occasion against the chance of rain, led to the
main entrance where a grave darkey, in white gloves and
stiff shirt collar, received us. He pointed upstairs, whither
we went, and finding a cloak-room deposited our hats and
overcoats ; we then descended the staircase amidst a throng
of ascending and descending ladies and gentlemen, until we
reached the grand drawing-room which was. illuminated and
decorated in very elegant and brilliant style ; it was filled
with what the newspapers call the "gay votaries of Terpsi
chore," amongst whom our host himself was conspicuous on
the " light fantastic " with the ever radiant smile— in a word,
we find ourselves at a grand ball where some two hundred
persons were present, and I confess with my grave attire I
felt I was out of place, so I resolved to keep as much as
possible among the gentlemen.
After the set of quadrilles was finished we turned towards
our host, who stood on the hearthrug as on a conspicuous place
where he might give audience to the guests who had recently
arrived. He appeared charmed to meet us and led us away, in
troducing us to every one as he passed. I must say every one

ASHORE. 19

was kind and affable, and unaffected; gentlemen seemedi
anxious to converse with us, and several young ladies did us
the honour of soliciting for an introduction. There was little, if
indeed anything, to distinguish the whole scene from a gather
ing in an Irish home. To me, who am unaccustomed to circles
of fashion, it certainly did appear that the ladies were very
extravagantly dressed, and painted, powdered, and dyed, but
I dare say the same custom prevails with us. It is to me
simply abominable, and I always argue that when a lady
resorts to so much artificial beautifying, she has little beauty
of her own to go upon.
The gentlemen very agreeable, but they appear to
me to be all bitten with the mania of self-laudation that
characterises Americans ; they seem to think "New York
is the greatest city in the world — yes, sir."' It may
be the greatest city in the world, I do not know, but why
should they so constantly proclaim it ? And not only is New
York the greatest city in the world, but every thing in the city
is the greatest of its kind to be found anywhere. A great city
no doubt, it is, very great, and will assuredly increase before
long to incalculable dimensions in size, importance, and com
mercial activity. It is, so to speak, a young city ; but where
are its great buildings ? Where is its Westminster Abbey, its
Thames Embankment, its St. Paul's, its Tuilleries, its
Madeline's, its St. Peter's, its Underground Railway?
I join the gentlemen in a quiet room where there is some
agreeable refreshment. Here I am introduced to Dr. C 
the greatest surgeon in America, a man whose fame has
reached every country, even in Europe. " Of course you have
heard of him? " I am quite ashamed to say in his presence
that I have not heard of him up to this, which causes

DIARY OF A TOUR LN AMERICA.

surprise. We get home, and before retiring I ask Father
Mooney's assistant, "who is Dr. C  ?" "Never heard of
the man in my life," was the reply. " The greatest surgeon
in America," I add. "Nonsense," said the gentleman I
questioned. The public institutions of New York are mostly built
on islands situated in the Bay. Of these islands the
largest is called Blackwell's Island, and to-day, in company
with some friends, we proceed thither by steamer. The
day is fearfully hot on this island, which is two miles long.
There are four admirably conducted Institutions — viz., a
charity alms house, corresponding with our notion of a
workhouse, a penitentiary for criminals, a lunatic asylum, and
an hospital of incurables. We pass through them all and
are much pleased by their condition. In the penitentiary we
meet the chaplain, an Italian priest named Gelasis, who re
ceives us very kindly and conducts us through the whole island.
The penitentiary, which is a prison, is a very long
building, consisting of an immense corridor with cells at
either side, and around all is a gallery with other cells opening
off it. He takes us into the Horror Ward for females ;
here are two females in delirium tremens ; he tells one that
she is getting better, but she does not understand him, for
she is a German. I tell her the same in her own language,
and she smiles and says " Ya." Here is the lunatic asylum,
the women's side — what a Bedlam ! They are all in a large
yard with the hot sun raging down on them. They all flock
about us, each preferring some complaint against somebody
and trying to cry each other down in vociferousness. Such
becomes their violence that we begin to get afraid, but the
keepers assures us there is no danger.

ASHORE.

The men somehow were more interesting, and ex
cited more pity. One black man pleaded hard to
get only a hat and a pair of boots,, he wanted no
more, and he would go immediately and stop the
passing steamer which would come and fetch us all away
from this accursed island. Another, a very, good looking,
intellectual faced man, with a merry twinkle in his eye, put
a piece of wood into his mouth saying, "do not be afraid, I'll
not bite you," as if he put the wood there to prevent the
possibility of his bitingus. He then, asked if we would wish to
hear him sing. We signified our desire, and he sang a plain
tive ditty, in which there was mention of flowers, and rivers,
and sunshine, and happy days gone by. A tear stole to my
eye, and I could not restrain it. He sang beautifully and
with fresh pathos as if he felt the full charm of the sentiment.
When he had finished he said, flourishing his arms and
smiling, " Now what do you say to , something operatic ? "
We said, " Very good," and he said, " Well, then, here I am,
Don Cassar de Bazan," and he paced the stage with the air
of an hidalgo. He then sang, in a deep baritone, and acted as
he sang. The affectation of dramatic vocalization and
gesture was admirable and we applauded to the echo, at
which he seemed delighted. He then prepared for another
performance, when a lunatic stepped forward and whispered
in my ear, " Don't mind that poor fellow, he is mad." This
was too ludicrous. We left the asylum with a strange
feeling of sadness, not easily chased away.
In the hospital we found a woman from Kerry, who spoke
no language but Irish. I conversed with her ; she was con
tent with her lot, therefore needed no consolation. Almost
all the inmates ofthe island, excepting the lunatics, were Irish.

2 2 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
A friend drove us out in his carriage and pair to the
" Catholic Protectory," an institution some miles away, and
intended for the purpose of what we call a reformatory. The
Americans have adopted a name of milder import. There
are twd large houses, one for boys (800) and the other for girls
(500); both are under the charge of members of religious
¦orders, and in all points, with very few exceptions, are well
conducted. The late Dr. Ives, the converted Protestant
Bishop, took a wonderful interest in them. They are really
admirable in all their arrangements, and seem to be in charge
of most efficient protectors.
Coming home through the Park this evening I see fire
flies for the first time ; the Park is almost on fire with them;
they present the appearance of innumerable small stars
twinkling for a second, and suddenly becoming extinguished,
just a few feet over the earth. The effect is novel and delight
ful. The moon is up and develops the beauties of the Park.
It is indeed a magnificent drive, and justifies the praises
of the New Yorkers.
I learn that Mr. Eugene Shine has arrived, and is
staying at the Nicholas Hotel, Broadway. Mr. Shine
is a Cork gentleman who realized a large fortune
in America, and purchased an estate near Killarney,
where he resides. He left Ireland last January for
St. Louis, and has now arrived from the latter place en
route for home. He is a great friend of mine, and I am
delighted at all times to meet friends, but especially now in
a strange land. I visit Mr. Shine at the hotel, and he
seems very glad to see me. We go across to Brooklyn to
see a mutual friend, with whom we spend the whole of the
evening.

ASHORE. 23
To-day we pay a round of visits ; they are all out. We
find Mrs. Sadlier in, to whom I had a letter of introduction
from Mr. John Francis Maguire, M.P. She has obtained
fame as a writer of fiction — a nice, good lady, kind and
gentle. This afternoon, accompanied by my young friend
Mr. Attridge, I go to Manhattanville, some ten miles from
the centre of the city, to visit Madame Gallwey at the
Convent of Sacre Cceur, a splendid convent and grounds — •
more like a baronial castle than a convent. Madame
Gallwey is a sister of Mrs. Thomas Waters, of Cork, but
the sisters parted and have never met since they were
children. The nun appears ; she is a fine old lady — gay and
lively in her manners. The convent contains a large number
of Sisters, and they chiefly devote themselves to the educa
tion of young ladies, numbering about three hundred.
Strange to say, about one-third of these young ladies are not
Roman Catholic, but of every variety of religious persuasion,
and yet they are bound to go through all the religious exer
cises of the convent, such as morning and evening prayer,
Mass, Benediction, Rosary — in a word, all, save Confession
and Communion. This is the result of an express under
standing between the nuns and the parents of the children.
The Sisters make it a rule never to leave the young
ladies alone. No boarder walks alone, and no two
boarders or more ever walk without a nun accompanying
them. Consequently, it is necessary that all the boarders
should go through all the exercises of the convent together
simultaneously, because there would not be nuns enough
to accompany them if they divide into detachments. Many
Protestant young ladies thus become Catholics ; and
though, as a matter of course, this must give satisfaction

24 DIAR YOFA TOUR IN AMERICA.
to the Sisters, they do not seek to effect the change,
nor is their system destined for the purposes of con
version* I was led to the chapel by Madame Gallwey during the
Benediction, for it was within the Octave of Corpus Christi.
There were all the Sisters and the three hundred young
ladies, the latter dressed in white and with white veils. The
chapel was a very pretty one, and the whole spectacle charm
ing. After the devotion, the Sisters had supper prepared for
us. I was introduced to Madame White, a niece of the
celebrated Gerald Griffin — an elderly lady and a person of
elegant manners and appearance. I remarked that her
hatred to England was intense, and she used very forcible
expressions, which I now forget, expressive'of her antipathy
We walked out and surveyed the grounds, which were very
pretty. 1 went with a young friend to Elizabeth, a village in
New Jersey, about fifteen miles from New York, to see a
woman whose daughter in Cork wished me to call on her.
Elizabeth is an extremely pretty village, and well worthy of
a visit. This afternoon, in New York,.and at other times, I
was. amused by people coming up to me in the streets and
asking me was, I Father Buckley, of Cork.
Sunday,, June igth. — This was a most agreeable day
surely ; it was hot, very hot, but it was very pleasant, for my
dear friend, Mrs. Attridge, gave me a beautiful drive in a
carriage and pair to Long Island. There is Calvary
Cemetery, where her brother, John MacAuliffe is buried— a
name familiar in New York, and dear to me. This visit was
the only melancholy episode in our drive. Poor John
MacAuliffe, the good, the great-hearted, the unthinkingly

ASHORE. 25
generous and high-spirited — he is buried here ! I had spent
a pleasant month in his company seven years ago ; we had
been to Killarney together, and elsewhere ; he is now dead
and buried, and I stand over his grave in Long Island. This
cemetery cannot be compared to Greenwood in any way what
soever. One characteristic it had for me, and that was
that almost every tombstone bore an Irish name.
We drive to Flatbush. Here I. call on Father Paul Ahearn, a
Cork priest, who receives us with great kindness. We go on to
Coney Island, and see crowds of people of both sexes bath
ing ; their costumes. are neither elegant or graceful, but 1 envy
them the luxury of being in the cool water this burning
weather. Yet the breeze along the sea shore is delicious. We
sit in a small nook and have a nice little pic-nic of our own,
with a beautiful: view of the surrounding sea. On our way
home we call at Bath, a little bathing place with a few houses,
in one of which our friends are lodging. They are at home
before us ; we take tea with them. We spent a pleasant few
hours, and got home about midnight.
Monday, June 20th. — At 6 o'clock this evening we prepare
to leave in a carriageforDelmonico's, to dine with Mr. Charles
O'Connor. Father Mooney was to accompany us. He was
loud in his praise of the first lawyer in all America, and
flattered me on the great honour which was being paid me.
I endeavoured to look humble. A little before 7 we arrived
at the hotel, and were shown upstairs into a very elegant
room, where there was quite a number of gentlemen. I had
never seen Mr. O'Connor, but, having once seen his photo
graph, I was able to single him out from the rest. He was
a tall, thin, straight old gentleman, with grey hair and white

2 6 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
whiskers, and beard cut very short — gentlemanly in appear
ance, with bright eyes and very good teeth. He welcomed
me, and introduced me to the other gentlemen, who were all
very distinguished citizens of New York, fifteen in number
(there were three judges).
At 7 dinner was announced. We proceeded to the
next apartment, and there took our places. Every
gentleman had his place at table indicated by a very
ornamental card, with his name inscribed, and each one
had, besides, a very pretty bill of fare, got up specially
for the occasion. Indeed I may say that the banquet
— for the repast wanted nothing to deserve the title —
was quite worthy of Delmonico's celebrated name. I, of
course, had the post of honour next the host. At my right
hand was Judge Daly, a very scholarly man, and at the
other side of my host was Father Hecker, perhaps the most
distinguished ecclesiastic in New York. Everything was
superb, from the egg to the apple ; it appeared to me
to be a paragon of dinners.
I found that Mr. O'Connor is great-grandson of a
very distinguished namesake of his, Charles O'Connor,
of Balangar, who lived in the last century, and was one of a
prominent trio, including Mr. Curry and Mr. Wyse, who
were mainly instrumental in forming what was known as the
" Catholic Association," which had a great deal to do in pro
curing a remission of the Penal Laws. Judge Daly also is
the great-grandson of Denis Daly, a very remarkable name
in the old Irish Parliament. I thought it strange that I
should be just then sitting between the great-grandsons of
two men of whom I had so often read with pleasure and
admiration. I regret that my memory is so bad ; otherwise

ASHORE. 27
I should be able to record some good things that were said
this evening.
Thursday, June 23rd. — We drive to Wall-street by ap
pointment to meet Mr. Eugene O'Sullivan. He has been
many years in America, and has amassed a large fortune.
He gave us 250 dols., and invited us to spend the evening
at Long Branch, a fashionable watering-place, some thirty
miles from the city. We took, with him, the steamer from
some wharf not far from Broadway, and proceeded on our
way. The steamer is one of the so-called " floating palaces."
No hotel was ever so magnificently furnished or decorated.
Luxury was studied in everything- — not simple comfort, but
luxury. The afternoon was lovely, and the sea breeze
delightful to us coming from the broiling streets. Crowds
of people were on board ; but there was no crushing — there
was room for all.
Mr. O'Sullivan introduced us to the pastor of Long
Branch, a Frenchman. He accepted an invitation to
come and dine with us. We landed not far from Sandy
Hook, and took the train, which brought us in half-an-
hour to our destination. Mr. O'Sullivan's house was
not far from the station— a large frame-house, with piazzas
on every floor, and not a quarter of a mile from the sea
shore. The Atlantic stretched away before us, with many
ships and steamers and fishing-boats dotting its surface. We
were introduced to Mrs. O'Sullivan, a fine handsome lady.
The season has not yet commenced in Long Branch, but
when it does it is very gay ; it is one of the most fashion
able watering-places in America. A great number of hotels
are here, all frame buildings. We go to see them after

2 8 DIA R Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
dinner. One is 700 feet long. The apartments are magni
ficent. Space is the grand feature of all. In one immense
drawingroom a gentleman sat reading a newspaper. He
seemed as lonely as Adam in Paradise before the creation
of Eve, but enjoyed the advantage of his progenitor, inas
much as the latter had not the luxury of reading the papers .
These hotels hang almost over the sea, and must have a
pleasant time when the place is full. We loitered about the
shore almost till midnight, enjoying the cool air, and listen
ing to the ocean breaking its swelling waves.
Next morning we return to town by the steamer, and bade
Mr. O'Sullivan farewell, with many thanks for his kindness.
The heat of the day was insufferable, so we leave New York
to-m orrow.

CHAPTER III.
NIAGARA.
Saturday, June 25th. — It was our intention to go up the
Hudson to Albany, by steamer, a distance of 145 miles.
The scenery of this river is pleasant beyond measure, and
we were naturally curious to see it. We left by carriage for
the wharf, whence the steamer was to start ; but what with
the bad streets and the great traffic, the horses did little
more than crawl, so we lost the steamer by ten minutes.
This annoyed us exceedingly, but we had to bear it with
patience. We drove to the Railway Terminus — a consider
able distance — and took our tickets for the train which
would start at half-past ten, so that we had only an hour and
a-half to wait. The time we beguiled as best we could, and
that was difficult enough.

NIAGARA. 29

At length the bell rings, and we proceed to the
train. Now, I wish to mention here that in American
railway trains there is no distinction of classes — the
country is democratic and all the people travel on the
same footing. A ticket-holder can walk from one end of
the train to the other and please himself with a seat. The
seats are all upholstered sumptuously, fit for the great as well
as the humble. We step into one carriage — it is full — so
we pass into another. This has plenty of room, and is got
up far more luxuriously than the one we left. The walls
are decorated beautifully ; there are not seats, but arm
chairs and lounges, all upholstered in scarlet velvet; a
magnificent carpet under foot, and tables, on which the
travellers may place their books or papers, while at the
foot of the carriage is a large and gorgeously ornamented
fountain, containing ice-water, of which, in American trains
during hot weather, there is a large consumption. This,
I thought, is very fine, and the Americans after all are a
great people ; they study comfort in everything, and
they are right. What a grand thing this equality is in a
State : any man, no matter what his rank, has only to pay
his six dollars and enjoy this splendid room, and travel his
145 miles in four hours and a-half, express. Yes ; I regret
having thought anything hard of America. I see things
improve and my views, no doubt will change. " Tickets ! "
shouts the conductor, entering our carriage, as soon as the
train had moved off. I show mine. "Another dollar,"
he says. " What ! " I cried, " another dollar ? — for what ? "
"This," said he, " is a drawingroom car J '" Now, what a
drawingroom car was I had no notion, but I clearly saw that,
let Americans say what they will, there is a distinction of

30 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
classes in their trains, so they need not brag so much
of their Equality. A parlour car would have suited me just
as well, but of course I kept my position, paid my dollar,
and sought refuge for my vexed spirit in the pages of
" Lothair." A great nuisance in those trains is caused by boys
passing through and flinging a book, or a bottle of perfume,
or some other article into your lap, and passing down
the length of the train, doing the same to everyone else.
You are supposed to look over the book, or perfume, or
whatever it is, and make up your mind to buy it or not.
The boy returns, and should you buy, he takes your money,
and should you not buy, he takes his wares. I never saw
anyone buy. This is repeated very often, and, to a stranger,
is rather startling, especially if he is rapt in thought, or
buried in a book.
Albany is a pretty city, with, the Hudson running
through and one side rather elevated. The streets
good, with trees in many places on both sides ; remark
ably quiet after New York ;. clean, with good pavements ;
neatness and elegance. This, is- the capital, and here the
Senate, for the State of New York, holds its sittings.
We found the thermometer at 105° in the shade. Stopped at
the Delavan House — a branch of the Metropolitan in New
York— and conducted the same way. Called on Father
Wadhaues, V.G., a kind and gentlemanly man, He asked
us to dine to-morrow. We agreed. Called on a few other
persons to whom I had letters.
Sunday, June 26th. — Dined with Father Wadhaues ; in the
evening called on a Captain O'Neill, from Cork, of the Police

NIAGARA. 31

He was not in and I left word to have him call at our hotel.
He called at 10 o'clock, a fine young man. He said he was
to be married next Wednesday, and would have us to go see
his future wife. We went and saw the young lady at the
house of her father ; there was a small festive gathering and
the Captain seemed to speed very well in his wooing.
Monday, June 27th. — Leave Albany 7.45 a.m. for Niagara,
316 miles by rail. A lovely day, and splendid country, hill,
valley, river, woodland, smiling plains, in many places the
primeval forest, in many the stumps only of felled trees, not
yet grubbed out, marking where the forest had been. Several
cities of modern growth, but of ancient name, on our way —
Troy and Rome, Utica, Syracuse, and Palmyra.
Three of our fellow-travellers were remarkable — two men
anda young woman — dressed as if of middle rank in life. They
spoke German ; one man of coarse and rugged features, such as
a novelist might take for his villain. When the train stopped
at Syracuse the police entered and arrested the trio, who
offered no resistance, and were marched off immediately. A
telegram from Albany or elsewhere had notified that the
criminals were en route for Syracuse. I could not learn
what was the charge against them.
We did not reach Niagara until 9.45 at night, fourteen hours
of railway travelling. We arrived in the midst of fearful thunder,
lightning, and rain ; put up at the Monteagle House, some
two miles and a-half from the Falls ; heard the roar of the
falling water through my open window all night like — hke
what?— like the snoring of an Icthyosaurus ! !
Tuesday, June 2 8/&— Had expected to find on thehotelbook

3 2 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
the names of Mr. and Mrs. Swayne, and Mr. and Mrs. Smyth
who had promised to arrive here this day, on their way from
Chicago ; they are making a tour, but we were disappointed.
We hired a carriage and drove to the " Falls." I shall not
describe them ; they are immense and awful, and thus sub
lime. I shall leave the description for to-morrow.
On returning to our hotel we found that our friends had
arrived meanwhile, and were now in their rooms brushing off
the dust. They did not exactly expect to see us here; they had
given us theirprogramme, and we had said it was just possible
we might meet them here. I passed away the time in the
billiard room, playing with myself but left the door half open,
so that I might command a view of any one coming down
stairs. After about a quarter of an hour Mr. Smyth appears;
when he sees me his astonishment is intense, he falls back
as if it were my fetch. He soon understands the whole
thing. He promises not to tell any one. So when they come
down by-and-by and see us, their surprise and pleasure are
boundless. We spend a very pleasant and quiet evening together;
there is some good playing in the drawingroom, a piano
and a small band of hired musicians. The thunderstorm of
the previous evening is repeated and the effect is marvel
lously grand. We go out on the piazza to admire it ; the whole
air is lit up every few seconds by a vivid light; the trees and
fields start into view, and their green colour is quite percep
tible. The graceful lineaments of the suspension bridge
shine out and we see dimly, even at the distance of a few
miles, the misty vapour rising from the "Falls," while we
distinctly hear the noise the waters make. Then comes the
loud crashing thunder, and now the terrific rain, the lightning

NIAGARA. 33

all the while calling into fitful life the slumbering charms of
the scenery. It is a sublime and terrible spectacle. But now
the rain sweeps around us in strong gusts, and soon the
piazza is flooded. We re-enter the drawingroom, where ladies
-sit and children play, and the sweet sounds of music are
heard, while the occasional flashes of lightning dart into
our midst, light up for a second the tall mirrors and almost
blind us by their dazzling brilliancy.
Wednesday, June 2gth. — St. Peter's and Paul's Day. I
think of my parish, called after these saints, and my church,
and my fellow-priests. It is no holiday here. It is observed
on the following Sunday. Avery, very hot day. A gentle
man of our party goes off to a college, two miles distant, to
see what is called the " Commencement." This is nothing
more nor less than an examination or exhibition and dis
tribution of prizes at the end of the collegiate year, and the
commencement of vacation. There are to be a great
number of priests there and a large gathering of lay folks,
friends of the students. In this small place (for Niagara is
a small place) a thing of this kind produces quite a sensa
tion, and is, besides, a pleasing spectacle.
I prefer remaining with my friends and "shooting
Niagara " again. There are two suspension bridges, one
over which the railroad passes (there is a passage for the
people under the railroad), and the other adapted for foot
and carriage passengers. We reach the latter. It is
a slight and graceful structure, 1,300 feet long and 196
over the river, the Niagara River below the Falls. As
carriages are compelled to walk slowly for fear of creating
too great a vibration, we are able to have an excellent view of

34 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
the Falls. The American Falls rush into the river at a perpen
dicular height of 1 80 feet, and at the side of the river, the
Horse Shoe, a little above, so called from the shape of the
river's bed at the point of descent, they come with such
force as to make a curve, which they retain until they strike
the rocks below. Thus it is possible for persons to descend
and stand under the curve of the falling water without getting
wet, and it is done every day. Millions of tons of water fall
here every day, and so great is the spray caused by concus
sion with the rocks below that it rises in white clouds to a
great height over the point of descent, and falls like rain
even on the land adjacent. The river for miles below the
Falls is streaked with white, like the sweat on the flanks of
a courser after a hard race. Yes, the Niagara Falls are the
essence of the sublime. There is something awful in the
thought that those waters have been flowing thus through the
long centuries that have passed since Nature's last upheav
ing. While thrones and dynasties have risen and fallen,
while nations have passed from the impotence of infancy to
the vigour of mature existence, and thence downward to the
imbecility of decay and decrepitude, the Niagara Falls have
fallen with the same monotonous thunder-sound — unchanged
by the will ofthe Deity, defiant ofthe arts of man, playingfoi
ever the same majestic tune — falling for centuries unseen by
human eye, discovered at last by some red man, Iroquois or
Huron, perhaps, on the war-path, who called it in his native
tongue " Niagara," or " the Thunder of Waters"— come upon
some few centuries ago by the first white man, a French
Jesuit missionary, who spread their fame through the old
Continent, whence millions since come to visit them  but
falling, falling, falling, still the same, groaning in the same

NIAGARA. 35

sad conflict with the hard rocks below, and emerging weary
and slow from the mysterious battle-ground, where reign?
eternal strife and noise;
We arrive at a house which is called the "Museum,"
but which, besides the curiosities it contains, and which
may be all seen for a dollar, seems to be a refreshment
place, a photographic establishment, and a dressing-
room for those who wish to view the falls from be
neath. Several tourists pass, and stay at the " Museum,"
and dress to see the Falls ab infra. The costume for a
gentleman consists of yellow oil-cloth trousers, coat, and
headgear of the same. He looks, when fully equipped,
something like an Esquimaux Indian. Ladies wear the oil
cloth head-dress like a nun's cowl, and a long robe also like
a nun's, and gutta-percha shoes. Several ascend and
descend under the guidance of a black man. They go as far
as the rocks on which the waters fall, and where they form
the curve I have described. We did not descend; we
stand on the road and get ourselves, photographed in a
group, with the American Fall for a background ; the picture
is finished and framed in a quarter of an hour. As usual,
no number of the group is satisfied with his or her appear
ance. Mrs. Smith, who is very good-looking, is very much
annoyed with her likeness, for a small vixen of a sunbeam
would seem to have cut her across the nose.
We indulge in some hurried luxury peculiar to America ;
it was well iced and that was enough for me. Everything is
iced in America, indeed without ice T do not see how liquors
of any kind could be kept in a state fit for use.
We return in our carriages by the suspension bridge, and
proceed to " do " the river above the Falls. We cross into an

DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.

island called Goat Island, and walk thence to points directly
over the Falls. One feels a horrible inclination to fling oneself
down and commit suicide amongst the boiling surf. I,
keep at a respectful distance. We then cross by bridges,
on foot, to three islands, called the " Three Sisters."
Here the river is one formidable spectacle of rapids, as
the waters madly rush down an inclined plane over huge
jutting rocks towards the Falls, and foam and roar like some
huge monster undergoing excruciating torture. The bridges
connecting the " Three Sisters" are flung over rapids, and
the effect is peculiar, as you stand on the bridge and see
within two feet under you the raging, rushing water, and
think what would be your fate in the grasp of such a
liquid avalanche — only for the bridge. It is like looking at
a hungry tiger through the bars of his cage.
After various stoppages at little picturesque taverns,
and various refreshments of ice-cream, or other coolers, '
we reach our hotel, and are somewhat startled by the
announcement that we cannot have dinner. I must
observe that this hotel was the worst I was ever in ;
but we made it very clear that we should pack up
and go to an hotel where we could get dinner, and
then they prepared something. After dinner we walked to
the second suspension bridge — the railway one. We meet
a huge waggon filled with trunks, and then a huge waggonette
filled with boys singing. These are a contingent of lads from
the College going home after their " Commencement." We
pass through the foot-passengers' bridge ; the railway is over
head. The view along the passage is very beautiful  800
feet long, 196 high ; the river below, and the Falls beyond.
We continue our walk along the other bank of the river— the

THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 37
banks are awfully high and precipitous and nicely wooded —
the whole scenery very pretty.
This evening, while cooling ourselves sitting on the
piazza, the lightning and thunder and rain of the
previous evening are repeated, and on a grander scale.
An old lady sits with us ; she is very old, and her
hair is milk white ; she says that she is 87 years old ; that
she is Welsh, and came to New York in the year 1801 !
Her reminiscences of that city are strange — in fact, it must
have been little more than a thriving town then. What a
change ! But the old lady happens to be a Protestant, and
cannot conceal her bigotry, which takes almost a form of
hatred towards me. She speaks very insultingly of the
Catholic ceremonies of religion — of priests, with their " bibs
and tuckers," and assures Mr. Smyth that I am secretly
plotting his conversion to the errors of the Romish Church.
As she is so old, we listen in silence, and when she has
finished we quietly disperse. She then discovers her mis
take, and tries to explain it by pleading " garrulity " of old
age ; but it is too late, and we avoid her for the rest of
the eveninsr.

CHAPTER IV.
THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN.

Thursday, June 2,0th. — This morning we prepare to leave
for Montreal, a distance of, I suppose, more than 400 miles.
While my friends are getting ready, I sit on the piazza, and
am soon accosted by a lady whose appearance it would not
be easy to forget ; she is tall, bony, masculine, hard-featured,

38 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
with long black ringlets, no cap, very large teeth, high cheek
bones, and generally formidable aspect ; her age might be
fifty-five, her accent is very American, and so is her phrase
ology, which I regret I cannot accurately report. She began,
"You're a minister,- I bet?" I replied in the affirmative.
" Yes," she said, " I guessed you were ; religion is a thing to
be looked to. You have seen the Falls?" "Yes." "I
should like to see them, but I don't kinder like to go alone.
A lady oughtn't to go alone to these places — ought she ?
You're a good-looking kind o' man — do you know I am a
phrenologist? Yes, sir; I can make out any kind o'
character. That suspension bridge is a pretty thing, eh ? It
must have cost a pretty good deal of money to build that
bridge. You'll go to Saratoga, I bet ? " And so she ran on,
stringing together a lot of short sentences on subjects the
most remote from each other. The visitors from the hotel
gathered around us ; she examined all their bumps, and pro
nounced on every one's character in terms rather amusing.
I am quite sure that if we had not come away suddenly she
never would have stopped talking.
We took the train for Lewiston. The line runs along
the bank of the Niagara River for about five miles,
just at the edge, and at a height of nearly two hundred
feet. In most places the fall to the river is quite
precipitous, and the whole is hard to look at. The
trains travel very slowly, which, while it diminishes the
danger, prolongs the fear and suspense. I should not like
to travel the same line again, and I fear very much some
fine day it will come to grief. Arrived at Lewiston, the river
we find, is very broad. Nearly opposite is a village called
Queenstown, and on the heights behind is a very splendid

THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 39
monument to General Brock — a general who, in some battle
of which I am entirely ignorant, was killed on the spot.
Happy thought ! read up about General Brock !
We take a steamer which bears us away down the river.
Here the banks are high and well wooded, and the spectacle
is very beautiful. Suddenly the river widens, and becomes an
immense lake (Ontario) — an inland sea. We lose sight of
land altogether in front, and, after an hour, on every side. It
would require no stretch of imagination to conceive that you
were on the Atlantic. About half-past one o'clock we reach
the city of Toronto, which is built on the lake. The view of
the city from the water is- very pretty. My friend, Father
Flannery, had been stationed for some years in Toronto,
but is now in Amhestberg, some 300 miles to the west. I
wish we could see him, but that, I fear, is impossible.
At Toronto we change steamers. The one we embark on is
larger and more beautiful than the one from Lewiston ; it is
not quite a "floating palace," but to me it is quite palatial
in its style. We dine under the British Flag, and there is
a remarkable improvement in the diet. John Bull feeds
well. The weather is very warm. I take up a copy of the
New York Herald, and the heat ofthe great city is described
in curious headings. For example — "Melting Weather in
New York — Mercurial Antics among the Nineties."
Apropos of the New York- Herald, its flippant way of
telling terrible things attracts my observation. Thus in this
very number I find : — " Yesterday John Barry met Thomas
Carter in Thirtieth-street, and said he was going to drown
himself. He kept his word." Again :— " In Delaware-
street, near the Ferry, lies a defunct equine" — nothing terrible
about this, however, except the vulgarity of the style. And

4o DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
again : — " In Fiftieth-street, yesterday, a man shot a canine
which had bitten a boy named White."
Lake Ontario, still an inland sea. We are several
miles out when we discover a butterfly accompanying
us ; he keeps always about the head of the vessel,
and flies with it as if for a wager — sometimes he
approaches the water so nearly that we are sure he is lost,
but he invariably turns up fresh and vigorous — cuts a few
gratuitous capers in the air, and then continues his steady
course. This continued for more than an hour, and every
one was surprised to find so small a creature as a butterfly
pursuing so long a journey, and at so great a rate of speed.
We all knew and felt with a pang of pity that drowning was
his inevitable doom, but there was no help for it.
Here we had a striking illustration of the viscissitudes
of weather in these parts. A dark cloud sprang up
before us — huge and dense — every moment it thundered
and grew blacker and more terrible. Behind us were
sunshine and summer ; before us the blackness and horror
of winter. Suddenly a flash of forked lightning ran
along the whole length of the frowning mass, and
now we saw the rain steadily approaching us ; the " big
drops fell heavy one by one " on the deck. All rushed
into the saloon, and in a twinkling we stood in the midst of
blackness, cloud, lightning and rain, while the thunder pealed
over our heads with all the veritable ring of Heaven's own
artillery. I stood at the door of the saloon with some other
gentlemen to view the wild scene, and to admire its grandeur
to the full. We were protected over head by a canopy. A
young man of respectable appearance emerges from the
saloon and accosts me, " I beg your pardon, sir," he said,

THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 41
" but may I take the liberty of asking whether you are a
Catholic priest." I assured him that I was. " Well sir,"
he said, and there was a tone in his voice indicating shyness
and fear, " I may tell you that I have just been married only
two days. My wife and I are on our honeymoon. She is
sitting on a sofa in the saloon, and is horribly afraid of
lightning. Would you kindly come and sit by her ? It may
give her courage. She told me to ask you. We are both
Catholics, and love the priesthood." I of course assented,
though by no means proof myself against the fear of lightning.
I found the lady to be very young and very charming ; and
by all the arts I could employ, I had not much difficulty in
dissipating her'fears. The gentleman's name was Meagher,
from Albany.
Montreal is over 300 miles from Toronto, so we shall have
to sleep on board to-night, and all the while we shall be
ploughing the deep waters of Lake Ontario.
July ist. — About 6 o'clock this morning I put my head
through my cabin window and find that our vessel is just
stopping at one of the wharfs of a very beautiful city, which,
on inquiry, I learn is Kingston ; like Toronto it is prettily
situated on the water. Here the lake terminates, and from
it emerges the river on which we now find ourselves —
namely, the St. Lawrence. I dress and go out in front, but
the weather is bitterly cold. To me, who had been so long
the victim of heat, a cool sensation is delightful, but this is
not cool but cold. I am forced to seek out my portmanteau
and take a big coat, whose acquaintance I had not made
for weeks, and don it, and even then it is cool enough. All
my friends feel as cold as I do ; the ladies are obliged ,to put

42 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
on heavy shawls, and the gentlemen feel a strong inclination
not only to walk but to tramp along the deck.
The river St. Lawrence with its thousand islands is a broad
and in some places very broad river — the islands which I be
lieve number not only a thousand, but eighteen hundred, are
of all shapes and sizes, from the uninhabited and cultivated one
of a thousand acres, to the one whose nose only peeps above
the water ; on some grows nought but the primeval forest,
and lives nought but the wild cat, and the wild cat's prey ;
on others a solitary tree nods at us as we pass. Another
peculiarity of this great river are its " rapids," which are
numerous ; that is. a sudden change of water from glassy
smoothness to a wild conflict of waves, rushing against each
other in eternal noise and confusion, such as I have already
described when telling of Niagara. In one place called
Lachine these rapids are considered dangerous, for the
vessel has to pass at the rate of thirty miles an hour through
two sharp projecting rocks, placed at a distance not much
wider than the vessel itself. The greatest care is necessary
on the part of the captain and helmsmen, who number four
for this purpose — to prevent a catastrophe. We reach the
first of the rapids, and descend at a headlong pace, and at
a considerable incline ; it is pleasant and exciting. We are
again in smooth water, wending our way through the lone
and wooded islands, with an occasional village on either
bank, and the church spire for the most part covered with
tin, glittering perhaps too vividly in the sun ; and now we
meet parties of pleasure, boating and seeking some good spot
for a picnic, and waving their handkerchiefs at us as we pass.
It is a festive day in Canada — " Dominion Day," the third
anniversary of the declaration of Canadian Independence.

THE BRIIISH FLAG AGAIN 43
The rapids again, the same rush and conflict and roar
and confusion ; waves dashing into spray by contact with
projecting rocks, and here is a sad reminder of the fate
which we must avoid — the skeleton of a steamer in the midst
of the rapids — a steamer named the " Grecian," that rushed
here upon ruin some twelve months ago.
The weather is now warm again as behoves it in
July, and we fling off our heavy clothes and bedeck
ourselves in lighter and more graceful costumes. We
are in lake St. Francis, a vast expansion of the St.
Lawrence, forty miles in length. Shall we have light
to pass the rapids of Lachine ? The captain cannot
say ; should we be too late we must only diverge into a
canal made for the purpose of avoiding the rapids, and arrive
very late at Montreal, but should we have light enough we
may reach our destination about half-past 9 o'clock.
Here is a lady with a very- smiling face going amongst the
passengers collecting money for those who suffered by the
fire at the Saguenay below Quebec ; she reaches us in due
time, and is very gracious and winning in her manners ; she
rejoices in the high-sounding title of Madame Morel de la
Durayutaye; she is French Canadian, and scarcely speaks
English. I sympathise with her as a fellow beggar, we
all subscribe, and she never ceases in her importunities
until she has succeeded in her demands on board, from the
captain to the fireman. When she has done, she attaches
herself to our party, and plies her French and her smiles
with increasing assiduity.
The sun is now red in the heavens, and as may well be sup
posed the spectacle is lovely ; the smooth broad surface ofthe
water, the balmy air, the wooded islands, the pretty villages on

44 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
the banks, and beyond the "mountains robed in their azure
hue." The captain has announced that he will have light
enough to do the Lachine Rapids ; this causes a general com
motion. All flock in front, the sun has gone down, and we
know how short is an American twilight. A quarter after
¦ eight and it begins to grow dark — but here are the rapids.
We are in them, steering right for an island until you think
we shall inevitably rush into it. Steam is shut off, and
nevertheless we go at enormous speed ; diverging from the
line towards the island, the helmsmen with fixed gaze, and
steady hands, under the guiding finger of the alert captain,
make for a large projecting rock — you would think you
were on it. No ! a lurch of the vessel and we only graze it.
Another rock at the other side — but another lurch, and we
are off it — free! only that the conflicting waves make the
vessel groan beneath. She labours on and on, steadily and
gracefully, until we emerge from the strages of waves, and
enjoy smoothness and silence once more. Before us
stretches through the dim twilight a bridge about two miles
long, supported on enormous pillars — Victoria Bridge.
Beyond is a black mountain (Mont Royal, corrupted into
Montreal) ; we shoot the bridge, and sky-rockets and other
pyrotechnic " notions," got up in honour of Dominion Day,
indicate beneath the mountains the position of the city of
Montreal, and reveal by the fitful light the church spires and
the tall masts of ships. We reach the wharf at half-past 9, and
at 10 o'clock are seated at supper in the saloon of the first
hotel in the City, the St. Laurence Hall.
July 2nd, 1870.— Our stay in Montreal extended to three
weeks, and as the work of many days was of the same de-

THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 45
scription, I gave up keeping a diary. I shall then sum up
all that happened to us while in this city without particular
izing the dates of the events. Our friends remained with us
for three days, and we had a good deal of dining about
We visited several of the churches, of which there is an
abundance in Montreal. Brooklyn is called the " City of
Churches," but it appears to me that, for its size, there are
more in Montreal. I have observed four churches, each of
a different religion, within a few acres of ground ; and there
is one place where two streets cross each other, and at three
corners out of the four there are churches. It appears
the people here are very church-going, and on Sunday it
was easy to observe that this was true, for the streets were
utterly deserted up to two o'clock in the afternoon. The
largest church is what is known as the " French Church," in
Notre Dame Street, a fine building with two high towers, and
immense bells ; a pretty green square railed round stands in
front of it. St. Patrick's Church, where the Irish most do
congregate, is a splendid Gothic structure, quite finished, and
well situated. The spire, however, is too small in proportion
to the tower, and does not look well, being covered with tin
instead of slate ; and here I may remark that tin roofing is
very general in Canada. It keeps the colour well and is
lasting. I fancy this must have been an idea of the English
commercial mind, as there are in England large tin mines,
and it was deemed advisable to ship it in large quantities to
some colony where the people were previously persuaded
that it was useful for roofing.
We visit the convent of Villa Maria in the country,
a few miles outside the city. This is a very fine convent,
where, as at Manhattanville, young ladies are educated as

46 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
boarders. It was here Mrs. Smythe received her education,
and she was anxious to visit the old scenes after nine years'
absence. Few of the sisters were able to recognise in the
very stout Mrs. Smythe the active Irene Tomkins of nine
years ago. The house is a magnificent one, and is called
Monklands. The drives around Montreal are very beautiful. The
mountain is wooded to the top, and here and there, as
you pass, splendid mansions, all of cut stone, and many
of elegant design, peep out from the foliage, or stand
in bold relief with the mountain for a background. In
no place have I seen finer suburban residences. To
drive "around the mountain " is considered indispen
sable for all tourists, and we conformed to the local
obligation. The streets of Montreal are very fine, the West
end (and by the way, how is it that the West end is always
the most fashionable part of cities ?) is very elegant. The
great thing to be admired is the solidity of the buildings, and
next, their great beauty of design. Almost all are of cut
stone, and the Grecian style of architecture seems to be the
favourite. The Bank of Montreal, the Courthouse, the
Bonsecours Market, and the Hotel Dieu — buildings which I
just put down at random — are worthy of any city in the
world. The population of Montreal is over 30,000
of whom 24,000 are Irish Catholics.* I was surprised to find
that with so large a Catholic population, there is not a single
Catholic daily paper. There is a Catholic weekly called
the True Witnsss, to distinguish it, I daresay, from a very
*Montreal has now over 142,000 inhabitants, with about 28,000
Irish Catholics. The True Witness still exists, and besides various
French Papers, is still the only representative of Catholic journalism
there. New York has still no Catholic daily paper. — Ed.

THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 47
Protestant daily called simply the Witness. But my
surprise was lessened when I was reminded that even in New
York, with a population of half-a-million Catholics, there is
not a Catholic daily paper. The reasons of this are, that the
leading papers have no special religious platform ; and that
the people are too intent on commerce to think about read
ing religious papers.
The young bride and bridegroom who were so appre
hensive of the effects of lightning, are stopping at our
hotel. I have introduced them to our friends, and we
form one party. On Sunday evening at their invitation I
spend an hour in their room. Our friends left on the evening
of Monday, the 4th, for Quebec, by steamer. We were all
very sorry at the parting, one of the ladies shed tears, and
there was great waving of handkerchiefs on both sides as
the vessel rode away.
On Tuesday morning we thought it time to com
mence business. Accordingly we called on a Mr. N. S.
Whitney, a gentleman who had impressed us favourably. We
found him all that could be desired, though not a Roman
Catholic. No co-religionist of ours could have taken us
up more warmly. He regretted that as his wife and family
were in the country, some 50 miles away, he could not ask
us to his house ; but he volunteered to come and introduce
us to the Vicar-General, with whom he was very well ac
quainted. We accepted the offer. He introduced us, and
we received a very cordial reception. The Vicar-General,
in the absence of the Bishop, who is in Rome, accorded
us every privilege in his power to bestow, on condition,
however, that we should receive the sanction of Father
Dowd, the pastor of St. Patrick's, and the chief of the Irish

48 DIARY OF A TOUR IN- AMERICA.
clergy in Montreal. We called on Father Dowd, who was
even more gracious than the Vicar-General. He insisted
on our leaving our hotel, and coming to live with him, as
Jong as we remained in Montreal. I must here mention
that all of the priests in Montreal are " Sulpicians," — that
is to say, clergy of the order of St. Sulpice, whose chief
house is in Paris ; that they are established here since the
foundation of the colony, and are owners in fee of almost
all the property of the city. The clergy attached to each
church live in community, and practice in a very special
manner the virtue of hospitality to all their brethren in the
ministry. We accordingly remove our baggage from one
hotel and take up our quarters with Father Dowd, whom we
find to be the type of all that is excellent in a priest. The
other clergy in the house were French Canadian by birth,
viz. : Fathers Toupin, Le Claire, and Singer — the latter of
German descent, but speaking the French language from
childhood. The rules of the house are new to us. They
rise at 4J, breakfast ad libitum, dine at 11^ a.m., and sup
at seven. Night prayer at 8^, and after that bed. I agree
to conform in all, save the early rising, but I learn that I am
not bound to observe any part of the rule ; but that I am
perfectly free to act as I please ; I do conform, however,
through respect for the rule.
There is another parish where the Irish abound —
the parish of St. Anne's. A fine type of a Tipperary
man, named Father Hogan is pastor — he is apprised of our
arrival and our mission. Father Egan bespeaks his kind
ness in our favour. He holds a conference with Father
Dowd on the subject, and they agree to permit us to preach
next Sunday, and to announce that he would preach the

THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 49
Sunday after, and take up a collection in the two churches
after the sermon. Now there is a third Irish parish, called
St. Brigid's, of which the pastor is a Frenchman named
Campion, a clergyman of strong Hibernian sympathies, and
we manage that as follows : There is in that parish a man
named Mr. Donovan, who I was told by one of the Hegarty
Brothers, tanners, Cork, was apprenticed to them some five
and twenty years ago, and who has now made a fortune by
the same business in Montreal. We go to visit him ; he
proves to be an excellent man, and places himself unreserv
edly at our disposal. He takes us to the house of Father
Campion, to whom he introduces us. Mr. Donovan is the
most important man in Father Campion's congregation. He
is a teetotaler, and is President of a Temperance Associa
tion of men, numbering 200. Mr. Maguire, in his " Irish
in America," makes special allusion to Mr. Donovan, as
an illustration of what a young Irish emigrant may do in
America who brings nothing with him but a Christian
Brothers' School education, honesty, industry, and general
good conduct. We found in Mr. Donovan a true and stead
fast friend, who spared no exertion to promote the object we
had in view, and in which he, as a Corkman, took a special
interest. Father Campion, on Mr. Donovan's recommenda
tion, permits me to preach on Sunday evening in his church,
and to make a collection immediately after.
Accordingly on Sunday, in St. Patrick's, at High Mass,
Father Dowd announces that I am to preach, and to solicit aid
towards the erection of a Cathedral in Cork. I appear the
moment he descends and preach. It would appear that my
sermon gave great satisfaction, for I receive many congratula-
tionsthrough the day,and for the whole week after. I preached

So DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
the same evening at St. Brigid's, and collected 40 dollars. In
the course of the day I was conducted from house to house
by two Corkmen, and thus raised 140 dollars. I was struck
by the polite and cheerful manner in which I was every
where received. When I was introduced into a house the
people were not embarrassed or displeased, but welcomed
me heartily, were glad to see me, had hoped I would call,
for they had heard of the object of my mission, regretted
they had not more to give, but gave their little cheerfully.
I was taken a little into the country to two holders, farmers
named King. A tall labourer saw me enter, and overheard
what I wanted.' He waited till we came out, and stood at a
considerable distance from the house. As I was passing,
he called me and slipped half-a-dollar into my hand, regret
ting he could not give more. I was astonished at the
generosity of the man, whom I would not think of soliciting.
He was Irish, of course, and only one year from " the old
country." During the week we collected a good deai in this
manner. I met several people from Cork, and they were over
joyed to meet me, who could tell them the history of
the beautiful citie for the last generation. To some I spoke
the Irish language, and their delight was inconceivable, I
may here remark that wherever I go I find the love of Ire
land amongst the Irish to be the most intense feeling of
their souls— an all-absorbing passion, running like a silver
thread through all their thoughts and emotions. They
think forever of the old land, and sigh to behold it once
more before they die. One man who drove us one day for
an hour refused to take any payment. He was from Ire
land, and we were two Irish priests, and that was enough for

THE BRtTISH FLAG AGAIN. 51
him ! " What part of Ireland do you come from ? " I asked.
" From Wicklow, sir ; I am 32 years in the country." " And
do you ever think of the old country?" "Think," he
exclaimed, " Oh ! yes, sir, I do think of the , old country,
not so much by day as by night. In my dreams at night
I see as distinctly as ever the lanes and alleys where I
played when a boy. I fancy I am at home once more, but
I wake and find that I am in Montreal, and am likely n,ever
to see my native land again." This dreaming of Ireland ll
found to be quite common ; many people would give all
they have in the world to get back again and live an Ireland
steeped in poverty, rather than flourish wealthy in this
strange land. And what is stranger still is, that amongst
the young people, those love Ireland most who are bom
here of Irish parents. Their love is far more intense than
the love of those who were born in Ireland. .Philosophers
must account for this ; it appears to me to be a transmitted
passion ; they hear their parents constantly speak in terms
of affection of the land of their birth. It is a land ever
appealing to the sympathies of mankind — a land that has
suffered in the great and noble cause of religion. The
imagination of the young heightens the colours of the
picture and awakes all the fire of patriotic passion.
Attached to St. Patrick's Church is St. Patrick's Orphanage.
The boys have a band, and they play no airs but Irish. My
pars were so constantly regaled with " Patrick's Day " and
" The Sprig of Shillelagh " that I could hardly persuade my
self that I was in Canada. Wherever I have gone I have
been assured of this passion of the Irish — whether Irish by
birth or by descent — this ardent love of their native land.
No doubt something will come of it some day. I am

52 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
aware that in many parts of America there are persons who
studiously conceal that they are Irish — who don't think it
respectable; but they are recreants, and of no accounts
they are, units in thousands.
But to return. In the course of the Sunday after
I had preached, I found two cards on my table—
"Messrs. Michael and John Burke." They had called
to pay their respects. I returned their visit the follow
ing day. They proved to be the greatest friends we had
encountered yet. Both are from Kanturk, in the County
of Cork. They- came 18 years ago, and are now indepen
dent. They have each a large grocery store ; were un
married, and had two sisters, each sister living with a brother.
They are ardently attached to- each other, and are Irish in
every respect. During our stay in Montreal these people
did for us, unsolicited, all that they could have done for
their nearest relation, their dearest friends. They took us
around amongst their friends, and got us a deal of money.
They would have us to dinner and supper. They drove us
out in a magnificent carriage and pair to Lachine, on the St.
Lawrence ; in a word, they spared no exertion on our be
half, and weremost respectful in their manner, proving, if
proof were wanting, to me that' the Irish are naturally ladies
and gentlemen'. No lady or gentleman in all the world, no
matter of what lineage or rank, could have treated us more
courteously. Honour to them and prosperity !
Another great friend was Doctor Kirwin, a gentleman to
whom we had a letterof introduction from an Irish officer. Dr.
Kirwin is Irish, but is here for the last 25 years. His busi
ness had made him intimate with the officers of the British
army here and out in Quebec for many years. He is

THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 53
passionately fond of horses, and keeps many. He came one
day with a drag and a splendid pair of horses, and drove us
round the Mountain. A fine, dashing fellow, full of
genuine Irish feeling, reminding me much of my dear
deceased friend, Denny O'Leary, of Coolmountain. One
day we lunched at his house, and met his wife, a
very charming lady. He was obliged to go off to the
races at Saratoga, and, as he will be going again on the
1 2th August, we agreed to meet him there.
I may conclude the history of our collection at Montreal
by stating that, between all we received in the churches,
and from private individuals, we realized 1000 dollars ! which
we converted into a draft, and sent the bishop ^200'! This
was magnificent. So pleased were we with the people, that
we promised to come back in winter for a few days, "just
to see what kind of thing a Canadian winter is, " but in
reality that I may deliver a lecture in St. Patrick's Hall,
where we hope to raise another, 1000 dollars. Several
gentlemen, besides those already mentioned, came to pay
their respects, and to ask us to dinner. Indeed, I must say,
once for all, that I never received so much kindness any
where as I did in Montreal, and I doubt very much if people
elsewhere are capable of being so obliging and polite.
It was no use for us to sound the generosity ofthe French-
Canadians. A great antipathy seems to exist between them
and the Irish, clearly not on religious grounds, inasmuch as
both are Catholics ; but the feeling illustrates the truth that
men's minds are embittered as much, if not more, by
political and national prejudices as by difference of religious
faith. In many places efforts have been made by the eccle
siastical authorities to blend the two nationalities, but oil

54 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
and water are not more dissociable. Not only here but
elsewhere I have remarked that there is a decided preju
dice against the Irish Catholic, and that it is only by some
fortunate combination of circumstances, or by the force of
rare talent; that such a one can attain in the States or in
Canada any prominent position. D'Arcy McGee attained
a pitch of popularity, perhaps unequalled for its heartiness
in America, and the honours paid to him after his
death will never be- forgotten in the history of
Montreal. All classes combined to honour the victim of
the assassin; and no less than sixty Protestant clergymen
assisted, at the Requiem High Mass celebrated over his
remains in the Church of St. Patrick. But on analysing this
singular tribute of respect to the memory of this Irish
Catholic, L find that although a great deal of it was owing
to the extraordinary talents ¦ of the man, especially to his
rare eloquence, yet much more was due to the fact that he
was -what is known in public life as a "trimmer," one who
aspired to please all parties at the sacrifice of his inward
sympathies and convictions ; and more again to the circum
stance that he fell a victim to a murderer, employed by the
Fenians— the Fenians who would wantonly invade the
Dominion and disturb the peace of Canada. This 'is the
solution of the honours paid to D'Arcy Magee before and
after his death, as I have it from those who knew him and
prized him most. I visited his widow's house, and had the
pleasure of making the acquaintance of his daughter, a very
interesting young lady. Mr. M. P. Ryan, an Irishman, is
now M.P. for Montreal, a Catholic, and another Mr. Ryan
represents Montreal in the Upper House, also a Catholic,
so that it is possible to get on, but very difficult under
the pressing weight of Irish Catholicism.

THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 55
The national game of Canada is called lacrosse. It
is an Indian game, and is so called from the name
which the Indians give the instrument with which it is
played. The game somewhat resembles our game of
" hurling," and is played in this manner. There are twelve
at each side, each armed with a weapon somewhat
resembling a "racket," only that the net-work is much
larger and looser. At each end of the field are two poles,
separated by a distance of 8 feet, and a flag flies from each
pole. The contending parties defend their own poles, and
the game consists of driving the ball through the poles of
the enemy. This is extremely difficult, as the poles are so
well guarded on both sides, and the excitement of the spec
tators is very great, for the victory appears every moment
about to be won or lost ; and just as it seems inevitable,
some happy stroke drives the ball into the centre of the field
where some splendid manoeuvring is displayed in the effort
to push it to either side. Now, I have said that this
lacrosse is an Indian game, and for playing it the Indians are
well adapted by nature, being endowed with considerable
activity and proverbial fleetness. But in emulation of them
a club was started in Montreal of young gentlemen, sons of
respectable residents, some Protestants, and some Canadian
Catholics, called the Montreal Lacrosse Club. Those con
tended frequently with the Indians, but the latter always
procured the championship.
I may mention that in the neighbourhood of Montreal are
some Indian villages, and there aboriginal families still reside,
speak their own language, and conform to all their ancient
usages, except as far as Christianity tempers their savage pro
pensities, for they are nearly all Catholics, and have their

5 6 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
priests and churches like civilized men. They dress like their
neighbours, and are peaceful and tractable. The chief village
where these descendants of the fierce Iroquois dwell is on
the St. Lawrence, some 8 miles up from Montreal, and is as
well as I can write it spelt Changanawagh (pronounced Kaw-a
na-wau-ga). This is the head-quarters ofthe " Indian Lacrosse
Club." Now, there is, as we have seen, a strong Irish element in
Montreal, and some active young Hibernians — a few born in
the old country, but the majority merely of Irish parentage-
associated themselves together with a view of contending for
the championship ofthe game of lacrosse. They called them
selves the " Shamrock Lacrosse Club." Having studied the
game they played again and again, and were beaten, but they
persevered, and some few months before my arrival in Mon
treal, they beat the Indians, and became the champions much
to the delight of all the Irish, and to the extreme mortification
of their opponents, and the third association, namely, the
" Montreal Lacrosse Club." Though covered with glory,
they did not relax their efforts, but practised with as much
assiduity as their business would allow, for they were all
artisans and had little time for so laborious an amusement
as lacrosse. They were all parishioners of Father Hogan,
and dwelt in a quarter of the city known as Griffinstown, in
name sufficiently indicative of Hibernian origin. The
Tipperary priest stimulated them in their athletic pur
suits, for he knew the strong prejudice existing against his
countrymen, and was glad to discover at least one new means
by which they could crown themselves with honour.
It was now a question whether the Shamrocks could preserve
the dignity of championship which they had won with so much

THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. S7

difficulty. There are in Montreal a great number of orphans
under the care of the priests of St. Patrick's ; they live in a
large asylum not far from the church, and the domestic
management of the institution is conducted by the Sisters of
the "Grey Nunnery," a Canadian convent formation. Once
a year the boys and girls get what is called a pic-nic, but
which conveys a different meaning in Canada from that
attached to it in these countries. With us a pic-nic is asso
ciated with a long journey, a romantic spot, a green sward,
and costly viands of all descriptions. In Montreal it some
times is that, but on the present occasion it meant that the
children are marched to a certain field where there is a large
gallery erected for them to sit, and eat and view the game of
lacrosse played by the " Shamrocks " and the Indians of
Changanawagh. Thousands are to assemble, and having
paid fifty cents a head, are to enjoy a similar privilege, and
by paying other cents may indulge in the cooling luxury of
"ginger beer," or soda water, the proceeds of the whole to
go to the orphans ; the spectacle is to be varied by running
and football, and during the interval the band of the orphan
boys are to play Irish national airs. The day is fixed —
Thursday, the 14th of July — the public expectation is
on the qui vive, and the Hibernian's mind is tremulous lest
the Shamrocks preserve their honour ; the game is to com
mence at three in the afternoon. Accordingly I go to
Father Hogan on Thursday, and we dine at 1 2 o'clock ;
he is to drive me to the grounds. There are other clergy
men who wish to see the game as well as I. The weather
is beautiful, the sun shining if anything too brightly, and all
promises well. Three o'clock is approaching, and we begin
to prepare for starting, when suddenly comes another of those

58 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
atmospheric changes so peculiar to hot climates. The sun
darkens, a thick black cloud covers the mountain (Mount
Royal), at the foot of which the game is to be played ; soon
the lightning flashes, the thunder rolls, the rain falls, but
strangest of all, a fierce hurricane arises and rushes over the
city with the well-known shriek of the tempest. Father
Hogan is in despair lest the game may not come off. " It
will clear up," he says, " it will clear up." But, no ; it does
not clear up, but comes down in savage and more savage
fury every moment.
At length, about half-past three, there is a partial cessa
tion, and we drive to the ground. The Shamrocks and
Indians are there, and a goodly gathering of the sons and
daughters of Erin, but it is too evident that the game can
not be played, for the ground is too sloppy, and it is raining
still. A postponement until Monday is announced, and
there is a general dispersion, and a strong repining
against the capriciousness of the clouds. It was well
the game was given over, for we had no sooner arrived at
home than the tempest arose in a form to which its previous
conduct was but as child's play. The thunder, lightning,
rain, and wind were blended together in one mad med
ley, and while the eye was bewildered by watching the
drifting ocean of descending water and almost blinded by
the frequent flashes, the ear was appalled by the howling
voice of the hurricane, tearing huge trees, unroofing
houses, destroying chimneys, and cutting up the streets
as if it were a ploughshare. One church spire was toppled
over, and one boy was killed ; the shipping had enough to
do, and, in a word, a storm passed over Montreal, the like
of which "the oldest inhabitant " had never witnessed.

THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 59
But it cannot be raining always. Monday came and
was fine. We were on the lacrosse grounds ; seven
thousand spectators are present, almost all Irish boys and
girls, all well and tastefully clad, all smiling and happy.
The ground is roped off for the contending parties, and the
spectators are seated on a gallery extending the whole
length of the field, presenting a charming aspect, with the
wooded mountain for a background. A small stand is
erected where the clergy sit under a canopy, Father Hogan
being most conspicuous by his large handsome form, and
trembling all over with the excitement of fear and suspense
for the success of his protegees. The orphans' band plays
the melodies of Ireland. The gingerbeer corks are popping
out every moment, and the whole scene is as bright and as
brisk as it could be. It appears we have had a great miss.
Moffit, one of the crack " Shamrocks," has just won a foot
race against an English runner of great note. Father Hogan
denounces it as imprudent,, considering that Moffit must
have puffed himself for the game of lacrosse, for Moffit is a
great point d'afpui of the " Shamrock '' Club. Every
where the sweet Irish accent salutes my ear, and now and
then some Irish pleasantry, until I fancy I am at home
amongst my own people. The girls try to push themselves
within the ropes, that they may have a better view ; they are
gently and smilingly repelled by the policeman on duty, a
Cork man, named Falvey, with the genuine brogue of the
Southern country. "Come now, girls, keepback, if you plaze,''
but the girls do not keep back. " Ah ! now," he soothingly
remonstrates, " do push back. No ! Oh ! begor, ladies, ye
must push back, if ye were twice as handsome." They yield
at the behest of that weakness to which woman ever proves

60 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
responsive, namely, vanity. Another policeman in another
quarter tries his persuasive powers with another group of
sirens, but he gives up the task in despair, for they vanish
at one point but thicken in another. He returns worsted
in the amiable conflict, and exclaims to Falvey. " By the law
you might as well be wrastling with a ghost ? " I thought
how different would have been the conduct of the Royal
Irish at home — with what a stern face and a still more stern
baton they would have pushed the fair daughters of the
Emerald Isle outside the ring, nor prove susceptible to the
most bewitching smile that would have sought to deprecate
their anger.
The posts are fixed at either end, and each bears a
flag — the Indian red, the Irish green, of course, and
now the melee commences. The athletes appear upon the
field, clad in " tights," save one little Indian who insisted
on the style known as sans culotte. A red belt distin-
' guishes the Indians, a green belt the Irish. The game
begins, and the excitement everywhere is intense. Twelve
at each side, all armed with the lacrosse. The ball is out
and there is great contention for it, each party striving to
fling or drive it towards the poles of the adversary, so
that it may if possible pass through by main force, or be
slipped through by cunning. We admire the marvellous
speed of all parties, particularly the Irish. One " Shamrock'
catches the ball in his lacrosse and runs with it, like a deer,
towards the enemies' poles, buthe is chased by an Indian, who
strives with his lacrosse to dislodge the balk or prevent its being
flung. The "Shamrock" stoops and the Indian is borne head
long by, and before another Indian can come up, the
"Shamrock" flings the ball to within a few inches of the poise,

THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN 61
where a half-dozen Indians are posted to repel it. It is once
more in the middle of the field, and the contest for its pos
session is disputed by another half-dozen, the crowd all the
while shouting at every clever manoeuvre, whether of Sham
rock or Indian. I will not attempt to go into details, I can
only say that there was evoked by the contest all the
pleasurable excitement which ever springs from beholding a
contest where physical strength, activity and fleetness are
pitted together, and where the mind is further stimulated by
the hope of national honour, or the apprehension of national
disgrace. The first game was won by the Indians in six minutes.
I should have stated the game was three out of five.
There was no shouting for the Indians, and when the
band played up it was not a lively air. After an interval of
ten minutes the second game began ; it lasted thirty-five
minutes, a fearful contest under the red hot sun, and was
won by the Irish. Then, indeed, there was shouting and
throwing up of hats, and the band played its most exultant
strains. The third game continued twelve minutes and was
won by the Irish, and the same sounds and sights of jubila
tion prevailed. The fourth game continued forty-five
minutes and was won by the Indians in perfect silence.
Now comes the last game, the game of championship, and
scarcely a breath disturbs the silence. We were not long
kept in suspense. After six minutes fortune decided for
the " Shamrock." I cannot attempt to describe the wild
joy of the spectators. All rushed madly into the field and
embraced the victors, who stood puffed and perspiring and
with hands all livid from the blows of their enemies'
lacrosses. The air was filled with cheers, and I fancy I

62 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
was the only man in the field who felt an emotion of
sympathy for the defeated Indians. It was a tremendous
triumph, and Father Hogan was in ecstacies. He passed
through the throng, and shook hands with all the " boys,"
presenting the spectacle, so often witnessed in the old
country, of men contending for glory with the blessing and
under the admiring eye and stimulating presence of the
" Soggarth Aroon." A few evenings after Father Hogan
entertained the whole " Shamrock " Club at a supper in his
own house. I was present. We spent a very pleasant
evening ; we had toasts and songs and plentiful draughts of
ginger beer, a great deal of talk about old Ireland, and
strong expressions of hope for her future prosperity. Such
was my experience of the Indian game of Lacrosse.
How strongly is the history of Ireland interwoven with the
history of America ! It was well for the persecuted race that
so rich a country lay open for their reception, when all but
Providence had appeared .to have abandoned them. And
yet for how many was the ordeal of transportation the most
trying period of their unhappy lives, and for how many was
this land of promise .a land of doom and desolation! I
have been lately speaking to a most respectable Irish clergy
man in one of the great cities of Canada, who emigrated
here in the year 1835, when he was only fourteen years old.
He and 250 others left Ireland in a small brig— a sailing
vessel— and thevoyage lasted over three months. During that
time the unhappy passengers were all herded together like
swine ; there was no distinction, day or night, between age
or sex in any kind of accommodation ; they ate and drank
and slept and were sea sick together promiscuously. He
remembers with a shudder the starvation, the foul air, the

THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 63
stench of ejected and stagnant bile, the disease and death
that prevailed through these three long months on board
that melancholy ship ; how he lost all consciousness, and
cared not to live ; how he forget what was decent, or even
human, and landed without a sensation of relief, deeming
that no better fate could be in store for him on land than
he had experienced at sea. And this was the case of many,
very many. In Ireland, in 1847 and thereabouts, there
came the memorable famine. The landlords were too glad
to get rid by any means of their starving and insolvent
tenants. They shipped them off in large numbers to
America, paying their passage— oh ! yes, paying their pas
sage, as they would pay for pigs or sheep, and little recking
how their fellow-creatures should be treated on that long sea
voyage. The poor people obeyed the behests of their
tyrant, heartless lords, and, in " poverty, hunger and dirt,"
with famine in their cheeks and disease in their vitals, and
despair in their hearts, like " dumb driven cattle," they went
to the great ship, and entered, " anywhere, anywhere, out
of the world " where nought but the worst and most appall
ing of deaths stared them in the face.
Thousands sailed thus for Quebec in sailing ships, at
low prices. It would not be a paying concern if they
were properly fed, and so the starved were treated to con
genial starvation. They were stowed away in the " fever
ship ; " the typhus broke out ; the plague infected the
hold and the deck and the rigging. Week passed after
week, and the disease, the grim disease, slew its unre
sisting hecatombs. Every day the sack— ah ! no, the
victims had not even the dignity of a sack, but such as
they were, in their tattered clothes, reeking with fever

64 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
and crawling with vermin, they were launched into the
deep, where they found at least a resting-place from man's
implacable and unrelenting cruelty. The fragments of
humanity whom God had spared reached their destina
tion. They dragged their faltering limbs up the steep
heights of Quebec. Some were billeted to Montreal, and
there debarked. Of those two cities they walked the
street, more like animated corpses than living men, such,
perhaps, as walked the earth when Christ died, and the
veil of the temple was rent. Here humanity was moved.
The starving, dying thousands found sympathy with the
French-Canadians of Montreal. Sheds were erected for
them, where at least they might live as long as God would
let them. The Mayor — a worthy man, Mr. Mills — was so
unremitting in his kindness that he sacrificed his life to his
benevolence. The Sisters of Mercy came to their aid, and
some good priests perished in their efforts to allay the
agonies of the sufferers.
But, to be brief, for it is a harrowing tale, no less than six
thousand Irish men and women fell victims at this time in
Montreal alone, to famine and fever. As they died they were
buried, many without the poor honours of a coffin, outside
the sheds at a place called Point St. Charles, just near
the great Victoria Bridge, to which I have already alluded.
I came down with Father Hogan to see the spot where so
many of my fellow-countrymen so miserably perished.
There was the desolate spot, enclosed by a fragile paling 
there the numerous mounds— and, above all, in the centre
an enormous stone placed on a pedestal— a huge boulder
from the bed of the St. Lawrence— commemorating the
tragic circumstance, with words somewhat as follow :—

THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 65
" Here lie the remains of 6,000 immigrants [why did they
not say Irish ?], who perished of famine in the year 1847.
Erected by [I forget the names of the builders of the Victoria
Bridge]. May God have mercy on their souls ! "
That I may not be wanting in justice to the memory of Mr.
D'Arcy McGee, I must say that he was a stern Catholic, and
always, and in all kinds of company, stood up bravely for his
religion and its practices, when they were assailed by bigotry
or contempt. In this matter he never flinched, but was ever a
valiant and uncompromising champion. When twitted, for
example, with abstaining from the use of meat on Friday, at
a dinner party, amongst Protestants, he defended the practice
of the Church by arguments worthy of an accomplished
divine, and was never guilty of that cowardly weakness by
which some of his co-religionists sacrifice their principle to
their appetites on this point. Again, he was a man of in
tense charity and compassion for the poor, and I have heard
some well-authenticated anecdotes illustrating this feature of
his character. These things I feel bound to mention, as I
have at all alluded to him, having no desire save that the
full truth should be known about him.
After my sermon on Sunday, the 17th, a gentleman
presented himself to me in the vestry-room as Captain
Duff, of the ss. "Tweed," of the Red Cross Line,
now lying in Montreal. He reminded me that he and
I were brought up in the same street in Cork. I
remembered him very well. He had been accidentally
at Mass, and, to his great surprise, recognised me in
the pulpit. He invited me to lunch on board his ship
the following day, which I did, where he had some company
to meet me. Before I left he gave me an invitation to his
F

66 DIARY OF A TOUR IA AMERICA.
house in London, and expressed a desire that I should, on
my return from America, make a tour on board the " Tweed "
along the coast of the Mediterranean. I hope I shall be
able to do so. Many people flocked about me who had
been from Cork, and put various enquiries, which I answered
as best I could. One poor woman, a servant, from Cork,
insisted on my taking from her four dollars for the object of
my mission, and only asked in return a little picture or other
token, no matter how insignificant, which would tell her it
came from her native city. Of course I complied with her
request. I was able to send the Bishop before leaving
Montreal a draft for ^200, the first instalment of the large
sum which I hope to collect before my return. It was with
considerable regret that we prepared to leave this city, con
soled by the hope of returning in the winter. We spent one
whole day in driving about and paying farewell visits to all
the friends whose acquaintance we had made.

CHAPTER V.
QUEBEC AND THE SAGUENAY.
At seven o'clock on the evening of Thursday, July the
2 1 st, we left for Quebec, by steamer. The vessel was
one of those magnificent ones I have already described,
and there was an immense crowd of people on board;
yet there was no crushing or embarrassment of any kind.
The scenery down the St. Lawrence from this point is very
beautiful ; but, unfortunately, no boat goes to Quebec except
in the evening, and night falls too quickly to admire it.

QUEBEC AND THE SAGUENAY. 67
Here I met Father Hecker, of New York, whom I had
previously met, as stated in its proper place, at Delmonico's
Hotel. Father Hecker is a distinguished American priest ;
he is a convert to Catholicity, and is most energetic in the
discharge of his priestly duties. He is the head of a new
society of missionary priests established in New York, called
Paulists — indeed he is the projector and founder of the
Order. Their chief occupation, after the performance of
their church duties, consists in promoting the interests of
the Catholic Press, which they regard as one of the most
powerful agents for the propagation of true religion. Father
Hecker is editor of a very excellent Catholic periodical, en
titled the Catholic World,* and has made a mark amongst
the Americans. He is much of an American himself in ap<
pearance, but much more in character, imparting into the
sanctuary that activity and " dash" for which the American
is distinguished. Seated on deck in an armchair, vested in
light coat, an ordinary shirt-collar, a straw hat, and gold
spectacles, he discoursed with me up to 11 o'clock. He im
pressed me as being a man of more than ordinary ability.
Of course we slept on board, and rose next morning at
five, to get the earliest possible view of Quebec. The
river was broad, majestic and calm ; the banks precipitous,
wooded and uninhabited. But soon the houses began to
grow more numerous, and fields to appear. At a distance,
on the left bank, rose a bold cliff, to a height of some 3.50
feet, on which I could discern a citadel. Beneath were
the masts of many ships, and around the spires of churches,
and tin roofs glittering in the morning sun. This was
*New York possesses also a Catholic Weekly, the New York
Tablet.

68 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
Quebec. At the other side of the river were villages and
towns, one named " New Liverpool," the other, I think,
" South Quebec." We were soon moored, and the city
rose precipitously above us, the citadel crowning all.
We drive by a " 'Bus '' to the St. Louis Hotel, and how
the horse dragged the heavy machine, well loaded with
passengers, up an1 inclined plain, little short of perpen
dicular, was to me mysterious.
Our first business was to call on Father Magauvran,
Pastor of St. Patrick's, We found him at home, and
though he evidently did not like the object of our
mission to Quebec, he received us with sufficient courtesy.
He insisted on our coming and staying at his house,
and we of course consented ; meanwhile we drove
out to see the Falls of Montmorenci; some eight miles
from the city. They are one of the sights of Quebec. We
drove through a very beautiful country, and in due time
reached- the Falls. They are much higher than those of
Niagara, being I believe 250 feet from the river beneath.
This river is very shallow, so much so, indeed, that in the
year 1759; when England was at war with the French in
Canada, the celebrated General Wolfe led his soldiers across
it on foot ; it flows into the St. Lawrence, and from that
river it is quite possible to see the Falls. They descend
rather slowly, one might say leisurely, at least in summer,
for then the water is shallow. The bulk of descending water
is not much, and the whole spectacle might be called pretty
rather than majestic. Just above the falls was a few years
ago a suspension-bridge, which broke one day as a cart was
passing, containing a father, mother and son. They were
all precipitated to the bottom, and only the body of one,

QUEBEC AND THE SAGUENAY. 69
the father, was recovered ; the rest still lie in cavities covered
by the falling water.
We remove to Father Magauvran, and meet his curates,
one of whom is a very nice young clergyman named Maguire,
son of Judge Maguire ; another a Father Neville ; a third
a Mr. Connolly. They are all very agreeable and gentle
manly. After dinner, Father Magauvran takes us out to see
the city. He brings us to see Durham Terrace, an elevated
plateau at an enormous height over the lower city, and
commanding one of the finest views I ever beheld. At an
immense depth below is the great St. Lawrence, with its far-
off windings at either side — with its multitudinous rafts,
and ships, and the towns and villages on its banks, and
long ranges of houses stretching in every direction, and,
beyond all, tall mountains in the distance. To be admired
it must be seen. Durham Terrace is a fashionable lounge,
and on certain evenings a military band plays here,
Quebec is a strongly-fortified city, although it could
not well withstand the assaults of modern warfare. A
great wall, with five massive gates, surrounds it; but a,
vast portion of the city too is outside the walls. One of
those suburbs is called St. Roch, where a few years ago was
an immense fire, which destroyed three hundred houses.
We passsed through it, and it reminded me very much of
pictures I have seen of the disinterred cities of Herculaneum
and Pompeii — ruin and desolation on every side. We in
spected the citadel, from which, as it is far higher, there is a
better view than from Durham Terrace. Father Magauvran
showed us several places of interest — the University, the
French Cathedral and Cemeteries, and a spot where some
years ago about 200 people were burnt to death while

70 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
viewing a diorama in a theatre. Fire appears to be the
special agent of destruction in Quebec. Periodical con
flagrations take place, and hundreds of houses are burnt ;
even the woods in the neighbourhood often take fire, and
for several days clouds of smoke overhang the city, while an
occasional bear, driven before the flames, seeks refuge among
the haunts of men.
On Sunday I preach, and with permission of Father Ma-
gauyran and Vicar-General, a French gentleman, announce
the object of my mission. About 3 o'clock in the afternoon,
although the weather in the morning had been the most
excessively hot I had ever experienced, a most fearful
thunderstorm took place. It was far more violent than the
one which occurred in Montreal a week before, and which
I have described in its proper place. The rain fell so thick
that it presented almost the appearance of snow, and it was
impossible to see through it more than a few yards. The
wind was terrific, and the thunder and lightning appalling.
All who witnessed the storm, admitted that they had never
seen its equal. In the evening Father Magauvran drove us
out a few miles in the country, and everywhere our way was
blocked up with fallen trees. From one road we were forced
to turn aside altogether, six trees lay prostrate right across
our path ; we heard the following day that more than one
life was lost, of men who were surprised boating on the river.
During the drive of which I speak we passed through the
" Plains of Abraham," the scene of the great battle fought in
1789, by General Wolfe, on the part of the English, and
General Montcalm, on the part of the French, on which
occasion both generals lost their lives. We passed close to
a pillar indicating the spot where Wolfe fell, a scene which

Q UEBEC AND THE SA G UENA Y. 7 1

forms the subject of a picture, "The death of Wolfe,"
familiar to everybody.
The place of our visit was the parochial residence of
the parish known as St. Columb Sillery, of which the
pastor is the Rev. Mr. Harkin, an Irish clergyman. He
was not at home, but we were hospitably received by
his curate, a French-Canadian, Mr. Fourmier. The house,
in the midst of woodland, commands a charming view
of the St. Lawrence, through a vista of trees, while the
church in the vicinity looks down also on the river from a
great height. This was the spot where, in the early years
of the colony, and during the missionary sway of the Jesuits,
one Sunday, while the people were at Mass, the Indians
rushed down on them, destroying '' at one fell swoop " four
hundred families, and roasting and eating many unfortunate
victims in the sight of the few who escaped, and who beheld
the horrifying spectacle furtively from a spot where they
lay concealed.
On the following day we waited on Mr. Sharpies,
an English gentleman, living in Quebec. We had letters
of introduction to him from a firm in Cork, with
whom they have dealings. Mr. Sharpies proved to be " a
fine old Englishman, one ofthe olden time," one ofthe old
Catholic families who were not allured from their faith by
the terrors or emoluments of the Reformation. He received
us very kindly, and promised to call on us in a few days.
This evening we drove out into the country, and stopped at
the residence of a Mr. Thomas Delany, an Irishman from
Kilkenny, who has risen to opulence in the trade of butcher
ing. He showed us through his garden, which was admirably
kept, and where we had the pleasure of meeting his wife

72 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
and one of his daughters. There was with him also an old
man named Dunne, aged 86, but wonderfully strong and
hale, who discoursed with great familiarity of the Irish
Rebellion of '98, of which he preserved a vivid memory.
The whole scene was Irish to my fancy, for we had green
fields, distant hills, and the sweet brogue everywhere about.
The geniality of these people was astonishing — they were so
delighted to have two genuine Irish Priests with them. They
showed us their cattle, and such cattle I never saw. One
field contained an immense number of bullocks, of whose
beauty I shall say nothing, but of whose size I shall say
that one, a great white one, was like an elephant, and
though he is only about to be fattened, already stands over
one ton weight. Mr. Delany pointed to him with peculiar
pride, and seemed to regard him as a rare possession. He
then showed us his pigs, numbering about 100. His farm
consists of over a hundred acres of prime land, and is his
own property out and out. He has a large family, one or
two being married, and he has abundance of means for
all the rest. " And yet," said Mr. Delany, " the day we
landed in Quebec we had very little." " You astonish me,"
I said. " And how did you get on so well." " I will tell
you," said the outspoken Thomas. " I was determined to
get on, so the day after I landed I got employment in a
butcher's stall, and when he saw I knew the business, for I
was brought up to it at home, he took a fancy to me. But
he was a Canadian, and they are mighty close, and the
wages he gave me would not support us, so I looked out for
something else. I went down to the docks and gave myself
out as a shipwright, although I knew no more about ship
building than I did about making a steam engine ! There I

QUEBEC AND THE SAGUENAY. 73
got on pretty well for some time, but they found out I was
no use, and they discharged me. Then I turned to
the brewing, for I could not be idle, and there
I scraped a few dollars together. My heart was
always set on the butchering, so I quitted the brewing and
bought a few joints of meat in the market, and went about
from house to house selling them, I knew the good article
from the bad, and people began to have confidence in me.
At last I scraped together so much as would buy a
whole cow, and one day Mr. Gunn, manager of the Bank of
Quebec, was passing by my door. He was a customer of
mine. ' Good morrow, Tom,' says Mr. Gunn. ' Good
morrow, sir,' says I. ' Why, Tom, who owns the cow ? '
'It is I own it, sir,' says I; 'and I am just going to kill
it.' ' Well, Tom,' says he, 'I never saw a beast killed,
and I will look on at the operation if you have no objec
tion.' " " Not the least, sir,'' answered Tom.
So the beast was killed, and Mr. Gunn had to " pay
his footing," as is the rule among butchers on such
an occasion ; and more than that, he ordered a quarter
of the cow. When Tom brought the quarter to Mr.
Gunn's house that gentleman asked him why he would
not kill half-a-dozen of cows instead of one. Tom
replied that he abstained from doing so for the obvious
reason that he had not the money. Mr. Gunn offered to
lend him money out of the Bank if he could get any kind of
security. Tom succeeded, and when Mr. Gunn lent him ,£20
Tom opened his eyes on the enormous amount of wealth in
his hands. But he went on until Mr. Gunn would be glad
to lend him .£5,000 ; but Tom did not want it, for he was
now an independent, rich, and happy man. Here, then,

74 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
was an instance of an Irishman rising to wealth and inde
pendence by pure industry and honesty. He took us into
his house where we had tea, and where his daughter played
and sung at the piano for our amusement, and I could not
but feel charmed on witnessing the comfort that reigned in
that happy homestead, and contrasting it with the position
which the same group would occupy if they had remained in
the old country.
One evening Mr. Sharpies came with his carriage, and
having paid his respects to us proposed to drive us
to his house, some three miles from town, where we
might have tea, and return at a convenient hour. We
willingly accepted his offer. His house is only a very short
distance from the church of St. Columb Sillery, of which I
have already spoken, but it is on the low ground not far from
the river, while the church is in an elevated and very re
markable position. We found Mrs. Sharpies and her children
to be a very interesting family. She comes from Clonakilty
in the County of Cork, her maiden name being Alleyn, and
the whole family had sojourned for some months, three
years ago, at the Queen's Hotel, Queenstown. The children
are all young men with the exception of one daughter, a very
pretty young lady. Here a Mr. James De Witt O'Donovan
was on a visit, and in him I recognised a gentleman whose
face was as familiar to me as that of my dearest friends. I
have many a time seen him in Cork. It turns out that he
comes from Middleton, and had onlyjust arrived to make a
tour of pleasure in America. We spent a most agreeable
evening. There was also present the Rev. M. Fourmier,
already alluded to, and a young gentleman named Wade,
just arrived from England. We sat on the piazza and chatted

QUEBEC AND THE SAGUENAY. 75
about Ireland, and particularly about Cork, with which the
whole family were well acquainted. One young gentleman
was very much amused by the fact that everyone in Cork
seemed disposed to accompany him in any tour of pleasure
which he wished to make. Young men who, he fancied, should
be at their places of business, came with him freely as if they
had nothing to do. No one seemed to be in a hurry. The busi
ness was left to tske care of itself.
We spent a few hours here enjoying the balmy air.
The view of the broad river, the ships, and rafts, and
nearer to us the beautiful garden, of which, by the
way, the presiding genius was an Irishman named
Flood. Mrs. Sharpies spoke highly of the gardener
as a man of taste and orderly habits, and held him up as a
living proof that Irishmen of the humble classes are not, as
is generally supposed, dirty and un appreciative of the com
forts of life. She insisted that we should all go and pay a
visit at his house unawares, so that we might judge for our
selves whether this was true. We went and found Mr. and
Mrs. and Miss Flood at home, and certainly I have nevei
been in a house, whether of the rich or poor, where there
was so much neatness, and, for the means, so much elegance
displayed. The front door led into the parlour, which was
papered and carpeted, and well stocked with pictures.
There was a sofa, and on the centre table were books and
ornaments, all gracefully arranged, and in the middle a
lamp. In a word, everything was in the best style, and
clean to scrupulosity itself. Off the parlour was the kit
chen, in which there were two large stoves, one for winter
and one for summer, and both as bright as brush and black
head could make them. We were obliged to go up stairs to

7 6 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN A M ERIC A.
see the bed-rooms, of which the pillows and counterpanes
were of spotless purity. Indeed, if the family expected a
visit, it would be impossible for them to be better prepared.
Mrs. Sharpies was proud of them, while the poor people
themselves were delighted at the .honour ofthe visit. They
flung themselves on their knees, and begged the blessing of
the priests, which was freely and cordially given. We
returned to the house, and resumed our entertainment, which
was rendered very agreeable by the warm-heartedness of
Mrs. Sharpies, and the unaffected manners of her children,
Mr. Sharpies sent us home in his carriage, very much pleased
by all the attention paid to us. We spent two other even
ings there before leaving, and took our final parting with
sincere regret.
One morning Father Maguire, one of the clergymen
of St. Patrick's, prepared a great treat for us. I must
mention that he is the son of Judge Maguire, one of the
most respectable citizens of Quebec, and now living at
Bay Des Chaleurs, some 400 miles down the St. Lawrence,
and that he is an extremely gentlemanly young clergyman.
Born here, his parents are Irish, and though he never saw
the Emerald Isle, he loves it as though it were his native
land. This morning, by the kindness of a certain Captain
Russell, he procured a small steamer belonging to the
" River Police," in which he wished us to go to New Liver
pool, a village at the other side of the river, some three
miles up, that he might visit the church of that place, which
now that it is complete, is regarded as the prettiest church of
its size in Canada. We went, accompanied by two or three
ecclesiastical students, who are on a visit in the house. The
morning was very fine, and we enjoyed the trip very much.

QUEBEC AND THE SAGUENAY. 77

The church, which presents a very fine view from the river,
is of an unpretending exterior, built of limestone, and with
the usual tin-covered spire, but the interior justifies all that
has been said in its praise. It is quite a gem. The style is
Grecian. There is a nave and two aisles, and the whole is
decorated and adorned with frescoes of the highest artistic
excellence. The ceiling is all painted, representing scenes
from the life of Our Lord, and the sanctuary is perfection
itself. My limited knowledge of architectural phraseology
forbids me to describe in a proper manner my views of this
church ; but I will sum up all in this, that for its size and
style, it is without exception the most delightful church I
ever beheld. The pastor, the Rev. Mr. Saxe, led us through
it, and was charmed with our praises of it. He is himself
a very charming person, with as little as possible of priestly
seeming in his manner ; good-humoured and large-minded,
having with much that is human the one absorbing spiritual
passion, a love for the beauty of God's house, nor was his
own dwelling out of keeping with the church. On the con
trary, order and beauty reigned everywhere. Before we
enter we must see his exquisite garden, cultivated entirely
by himself. He has a vinery worthy of a ducal man
sion, and such a variety of flowers that the atmosphere is
laden with perfume. The interior of his house is
elegant, in the extreme, wanting in nothing, and when we
complimented him upon the beauty of all we saw, he said
" Well you see a priest has few pleasures,'' and he ought to
provide himself with as many as he can legitimately enjoy.
That is my idea, and I act up to it."
Having bade him farewell after tasting his wine,
we re-entered our steamer, and went still further up

78 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
the river to a point where a river called the "Chaudiere"
joins the St. Lawrence. We have resolved to pay
a visit to the " Falls of Chaudiere," celebrated next
after those of Niagara and Montmorenci. In order to
accomplish this little journey we were forced to look out for
some kind of land conveyance, for the Falls were three miles
up the river, and the water was too shallow for the steamer
to go any further. Accordingly we proceed on foot up a
rather steep acclivity, to a place where we see some houses.
We enter one and find it the house of a French Canadian
peasant ; we state our want and they immediately answer
that we can be accommodated. While the men prepare the
conveyances, for we require two, the woman of the house
treats us to some milk. The French spoken by these
people is not very intelligible to me, but Father Maguire was
quite at home in it. We drive a few miles and then stop.
We have to walk across a few fields to see the Falls ; here
they are beneath us, a very respectable flow of water, indeed,
but after the two great Falls we have seen, rather insignificant.
Owing to the dryness of the season the river is very shallow
and the Falls are not full, but there is a long portion of river
which, though now empty, must in the spring time be full
enough, in which case the Falls must be very grand to look
at. High as we were above them the spray reached us from
the rocks on which the descending water broke. Around
the scenery is splendid, woods spreading behind the Falls
on both sides, the river running over brown rocks between,
while beyond, at an immense distance, spread the fields,
forests and mountains of the North. We rejoined our crew
on board the steamer in due time, weary and wet with per
spiration from all we had to walk, and steamed to Quebec,
delighted with our trip.

QUEBEC AND THE SAGUENAY. 79
On Sunday the church was crowded, for the sound
had gone forth that a priest from Ireland was to preach-
I delivered a sermon on the respect due to the House
of God and then made my special appeal. I collected
247 dollars. During Mass I was somewhat surprised to hear
the organ playing several Irish airs, such as " The Last Rose
of Summer," " The Meeting ofthe Waters," and "Savour-
neen Dheelish." In the course of the day the organist was
introduced to me, a young French Canadian. He spoke
English imperfectly, and I was amused by one of his blunders.
When I complimented him upon his performance of the
melodies during Mass, he assured me that he was very fond
— indeed, passionately fond — of the Irish airs, and that, of
them all, his favourite was that lovely lyric " Mary, you are
now sitting in style ! " (evidently, " You're sitting on the stile,
Mary "). Thus we had every reason to be content with the
munificence of the Irish in Quebec, for, owing to their fre
quent fires, their charity has been sadly overtaxed ; besides,
it is now a poor city owing to the substitution of iron for wood.
The latter branch of industry has been almost eliminated from
the place, which is a great misfortune, as in consequence of the
abundance of timber brought here from the Western country,
ships were built in large numbers in Quebec. The people,
however, are very kind and good, and our stay here was very
pleasant. Before leaving we were advised to visit the River
Saguenay, one of the great sights not only about Quebec,
but in all America. This river, rising in a certain lake (St.
John) joins the St. Lawrence at a point about 100 miles
down the St. Lawrence from Quebec, and steamers run
from the latter place three or four times a week, to

80 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
enable tourists to visit the beautiful scenery for which the
Saguenay is distinguished. On Tuesday morning, August
ist, we left the wharf at Quebec in the "Union," to make
this little tour. The morning was very unpromising for
, purposes of sight seeing, for it rained and thundered with
unmitigated ferocity. But the very vehemence of the
storm was the surest augury of its short duration, and
in point of fact it soon cleared up, and the weather became
all that could be desired.
Descending the river, we had a very good view of
Quebec, situated at the junction of the St. Lawrence
and the St. Charles, and surmounted by the citadel,
which protects the river on every side. We soon caught
sight of the Montmorenci Falls, which present from
this point a magnificent spectacle- — falling in copious volume
from their great elevation, and filling the surrounding air
with spray.
Further down is the large and beautiful island of
Orleans— very picturesque, wooded, and cultivated, and
thickly inhabited ; and, still further, Gros Island— an island
of melancholy recollections to the Irishman who becomes
acquainted with its terrible history. Here, in the fatal year
of 1847, the fever ships from Ireland, already alluded to in
these pages, were placed in quarantine. Here, as at Point
St. Charles in Montreal, were sheds erected for the sufferers.
Here they died — first in tens a day, then in hundreds. Here
perished with them many good priests and nuns. Here
arose, with appalling suddenness, a huge Necropolis — a City
of the Irish Dead, where, in addition to the victims of the
grim tyrant, were interred (horrible to think of !) many live
human beings, as I have heard asseverated by more than

QUEBEC AND THE SAGUENAY. 5i
one witness of the tragic scene. When the fatal work was
accomplished it was ascertained that from 8,000 to 10,000
souls had perished, whose bones lie now beneath the sod in
this lonely island as I pass. I inquired from several persons
whether any sufferers survived this terrible pest, and I was
answered " a few did," but that they were scarcely worth
counting. Some four hundred children survived, whose
parents perished ; and, let the Irish at home ever remember
it with gratitude, the present Archbishop of Quebec,
Monseigneur Bailleargeon, animated by the spirit of the
gieat St. Vincent de Paul, appealed from the pulpit of his
cathedral to the public on behalf of those poor little children.
With tears in his eyes he begged of the people to adopt them
as their own. The appeal was not made in vain. On the
contrary, a holy rivalry sprung up amongst the inhabitants of
Quebec, Canadian as well as Irish, for the possession of the
children. Not one was neglected, and at the present day
many of those survivors are pointed out as persons rescued
by charity from a terrible fate, and, I am happy to add, as
persons who reflect the highest credit upon the parents of
their adoption. Some are wealthy, some sit in Parliament,
and what is strange to think of— some who were brought up
by the Canadians cannot speak one word of English. The
French language, as well as French parents, has been
adopted as their own.
At one side of the river, as we drop down, is a large
range of mountains, known as the Laurentia range, from
the river's name, and in some places descending right to
the water's edge. At the other side the banks are more
flat and fertile, and a line of villages appears to run the
whole way. Here and there the houses accumulate, and
G

82 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
we have a town such as Riviere-du-Loup, and Cacouna —
fashionable watering-places. One watering-place only lies
up the left side, and this is called Murray Bay. At all
these places we touch, and give and receive passengers.
On board we have a large number, principally Americans,
who are all very agreeable, and show a fraternizing spirit.
We are specially taken up by one family — a lady and
gentleman, and their daughter, from New York, who
are very interesting. We spend almost the whole time
in their company.
About seven o'clock in the evening we reach the
mouth of the Saguenay, on the left bank, and land at
a little village called Tadousac, the very earliest settle
ment, I believe, of the French in Canada. We catch one
glimpse of the river, and it seems to realize all we have
heard and read about it — precipitous banks, and copious
woods at both sides, and a pervading aspect of solitude,
with the placid water between the hills. We can stay as
long as we please at Tadousac, for the steamer will not go
up the Saguenay until midnight ; not that we are expected to
view the river then, but that we may reach the highest point
before morning and view it on our return. Tadousac is
situated in a very wild region, reminding me much of Glen-
gariffe in the old country. It is evidently frequented by
pleasure-seekers and vacationists, for there are many pretty
cottages, and there is a fine strand for bathing, and the
water is sufficiently salt, for the air is strongly impregnated
with the odour of sea-weed. Here is a fine hotel, which, for
the honour of Ireland I may add, is kept by an " O'Brien."
At Tadousac is a little church which is said to be the oldest
in Canada. It is built of wood. If it be the oldest, it must

QUEBEC AND THE SAGUENAY. 83
have been frequently rebuilt, as wood could scarcely survive
the wear of three centuries.
We adjourn to the steamer, as it grows dark, and
the rest of the evening is spent very pleasantly listening
to a performance on the piano by a person of very re
markable musical talents. He is .nothing more or less
than one of the waiters who assist at table on board the
boat, but his education, and bearing are evidently far above
his present occupation. His performance on the piano was
simply marvellous. When he had played for some time,
he got an accordean, mounted like a barmonium, which he
played with one hand, accompanying himself at the piand
with the other. A third variation was created by a fellow-
waiter accompanying himself at [this performance with a
penny whistle. The effect of the whole was very striking.
On inquiry I found out that the pianist was the son of a
celebrated piano-maker in London, that he came out to
America only a few months ago "to seek his fortune," that
he could get nothing to do, and was forced, by way of a
beginning, to become waiter on board this steamer. He ;is
on the eve of something better he told me afterwards.
Another waiter, who happens to be a native ofthe "beau
tiful citie " of Cork, hears by some means that I am a
Corkman, and bis delight is unbounded. His name is
Howard, he was born in Evergreen, and the greenest spot
in his memory is the "Botanic Gardens." During the
voyage he was specially attentive to me, and could pever
pass without giving me a confidential smile, as if he would
say, "You and I understand each other, we are frorn the
same city of Cork, you know." All he possesses he would
give to catch another glimpse of his native city, of tbe vege-

84 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
tables>that grow in the market-garden of Evergreen, and the
tombstones that grace the final resting-place of the dead,
amidst the trees and shrubs of the Botanic Gardens.
In due time we retire to rest, and in the morning, when we
dress, we go on deck and find ourselves anchored in a pretty
cove, with hills all around, some rocky and barren, others
wooded to the water's edge, while two small villages grace the
banks — one just at hand and one at a considerable distance -
but both so quiet that not a sound strikes the ear. This is
" Ha-ha Bay " — a curious name, and one arising from a
strange circumstance. When the French first rowed up the
Saguenay in a canoe, they turned in here, thinking it a
continuation of the river, but soon their little craft came in
contact yith the ground, and looking backward, they saw
themselves shut in on every side. They cried " Ha, ha,"
in surprise, and, turning back, found that the course of the
river lay in a northerly direction.
Our vessel will remain here until 10 o'clock, and
then we proceed down the river to view its celebrated
scenery. The morning is lovely — bright, calm, and
warm. After breakfast we land, and go up on the
most elevated of" the hills in our neighbourhood to fulfil
a twofold object — namely, to take some exercise, for we
had been very confined for the last twenty-four hours, and
to take views of the country all around. There is a portion
of the river much higher up than that to which we
ascend, but the boats rarely go so far, for in some parts
it is fit only for a canoe, and there are rapids which can be
got over only with considerable difficulty. At 10 o'clock we
start to do " the Saguenay." We have sixty-five miles to
traverse before we get back to Tadousac.

QUEBEC AND THE SAGUENAY. 85
And now for the river. All along there are moun
tains on both sides; in some places they are quite bare,
in others thinly wooded, while for the most part foliage
of every hue extends from the summit to the very
water. Here and there a cataract leaps down from the top,
perhaps from a height of fifteen hundred feet, peeping out
through the woods, and then hiding itself again — the only
thing of life, and that only life in a figurative sense, dis
tinguishable in this awful solitude. Barrenness and desola
tion are around us on every side ; not even a bird passes in
the air or makes the wood resound with song ; not even a
solitary goat browses on the herbage, for here no herbage
grows. Animal life seeks in vain for sustenance in this
inexorable soil. Silence, oppressive silence, reigns on every
side. The voice ofthe tumbling cataract is the -only sound
that" salutes the ear. We reach Trinity Rock, an. enormous
pile of naked granite standing right over the river at an
elevation of nine hundred feet. The steamer steers imme
diately under it, and steam is shut off, that we may view the
scene. The huge bluff rocks look down from above, and
seem to threaten us with destruction. A revolver is fired
off to awaken the echoes, which are very fine, but cannot
compare with those of the "Eagle's Nest," at Killarney, to
which, indeed, Trinity Rock is not unlike. Here we ex
perience a curious optical illusion. While standing under
the rock we fancy we are very near it, and the captain, as is
usual, had provided at Ha-ha Bay a bucket of stones, that
persons relying on their powers of projection might try to
strike the rock at the nearest point. Several attempted,
but all failed. The distance appeared so little that one
would fancy a child might hit the rock, but the stones flung

86 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
by a dozen volunteers invariably fell into the tide ; they ap
peared to go straight towards the rock, and then, at the last
moment, they made a curve backward, as if the rock re
pelled them. One gentleman went very vigorously to work.
He told us that he was always remarkable for throwing a
stone well.- He went so far as to take off his coat, and yet,
after a vigorous effort, failed in the attempt.
The point of interest is Eternity Bay, where there is another
elevation, somewhat about fifteen hundred feet high, all beauti
fully wooded and1 Very precipitous. The whole river is magni
ficent, arid at some points presents the appearance of a lake,
entirely shut in by wooded hills, the most abandoned soli
tude it is possible tb'conceive. The depth of the water at
some points has- never been ascertained ; it is considered
unfathomable, and its colour is as near as possible approach
ing to black.- It was in this neighbourhood, but higher up,
that the fire took place by which so many houses were burnt
and the inhabitants were thrown upon the charity of the
public. The woods somehow were wrapped in one wild
conflagration, which spread over a distance of three hundred
miles, destroying all the human habitations in its way.
We reached Tadousac at half-past two o'clock, and con
tinued our voyage on to Quebec, admiring on the one hand the
mountains, on the other the villages that graced the banks of
the majestic St. Lawrence. We reached Quebec at 2 a.m., but
did not disembark until morning. The day we spent in
visiting our friends, in procuring a bill of exchange for the
money we had received, and making other preparations for
our voyage to Halifax, Nova Scotia.

CHAPTER VI.
THE LAND OF THE BLUE NOSES.
Qucb regio in terris nostri non plena laboris!
August 5. — At 4 p.m. we went on board the "Georgia,"
a very fine ocean steamer (Captain Connell), bound to
Picton, Nova Scotia, the farthest point to which she goes ;
the journey from Picton to Halifax to be accomplished by
rail. The evening was fine and warm. Our passengers
were not numerous, and amongst them were six nuns, bound
to Charlottetown, Prince Edward's Island, and two Christian
Brothers, bound to the same place, the former to join a
convent, the latter to found schools. The nuns were under
the protection of a French Canadian priest from Montreal,
from which place they had come by this same ship the pre
vious day. When passing Gros Isle, to which I have
already alluded, the captain told me some startling things
of the unhappy sufferers, to whose misfortunes he was an
eye-witness. At that time he had been a pilot on the St.
Lawrence. Next morning we reach a place called Father Point,
where some of our passengers land. From this place the
bank of the river on the right-hand side becomes very hilly
and wooded. Mountains beyond mountains appear,,
some about three thousand feet high, and so close
are they in many places that the captain assured
us the snow and ice of winter is never melted in the valleys.
The bank on the other side can scarcely be seen. The
river at the farthest point is thirty miles wide ; it then
spreads and become the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The
weather is bright and cool, and we have a moon at night,

88 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
and while we sit in groups, arid tell stories on deck,
a beautiful Aurora Borealis appears, and charms us
with its ever varying form, and the dancing movement of its
rays. On the second morning, about seven o'clock, we pass
between the mainland and a long, curiously-shaped rock.
This rock is several hundred feet long, very high, and cut
quite sharp, so that its summit cannot be reached by any
creature, save a bird. And accordingly, as if conscious of
their security, crowds of birds swarm upon it, con
spicuous amongst which is the penguin. In this rock
Nature has carved a large round hole, through and
through. The name of this isolated mountain of stone is
" Percy," called from this carved hole, the rock being in the
French language "perce-" — i.e., pierced. Such is also the
name of a small village just here on the main land, at which
we touch. Farther out is a considerable island called
"Bonaventure Island," mostly cultivated, and with many
houses scattered over its surface.
We now fall right out into the deep, and for some
time lose sight of land altogether. On the night of
the second day after leaving Quebec we stay at Shediac,
a small seaport in New Brunswick. Here we remain
over night. Next morning, while the vessel is being
unloaded of a miscellaneous cargo, chiefly flour, we
saunter about the shore ; some of our party, principally
young folks, go and fish, and are very successful in their
attempts, as we found at breakfast and dinner ; others go to
bathe ; some walk to see the town— a small thing some two
miles distant. The weather all through the voyage was
lovely. Remote as the place is from the inhabited world

THE LAND OF THE BULE NOSES. 89
I find an Irishman from Dungarvan, who shakes my hand
with all the warmth of brotherly affection.
About 12 o'clock we weigh anchor, and steer for Prince
Edward's Island. By this time the passengers have all be
come more friendly with each other. There is a Mr. Barker,
from Picton, an elderly gentleman, and his daughter, Miss
Barker, a clever and interesting young lady. There is a
Dr. Haight, from the same place, a Mr. McLord, from
Montreal, a young man -of family, for he tells us of his
ancestry, and particularizes one who was an officer under
Wolfe, on the plains of Abraham. Here is Mr. Brown, of
Montreal, and two young lads, his sons, a quiet, very
gentlemanly and social man, who gives me a good deal of
information about Canada, and confirms all I have said
about the Canadians. There are many others, but one is
remarkable above the rest. A handsome young man, with
very black hair, dark complexion, black eyes, a moustache,
and a very French air, be wears a Turkish fez and looks
picturesque with bis suit of tweed, and a meer
schaum. This is M. Turgeon, an advocate of Montreal.
He speaks English just enough to increase the interest you
feel in him for the beauty of his person. He and I under
stand each other at once; he has travelled over Europe,
and knows life and the world Thus we get to Prince
Edward's Island, which at length discloses itself to view
from the bosom of the ocean, a long island, over 130 miles in
length, and about 35, at the widest, in breadth. It reminds
me much of Ireland ; isolated from continental lands, green
as emerald, and fertile as Nature can be, with pleasant
harbours, and— but here the comparison ceases— with a
happy and contented population, self-governed, and only

90 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
 _l  — ,
wanting to be let alone by the world, which it is to be feared
will not let it alone, but which, despite its inexhaustible
treasures of land, is still crying out, " annexation !
annexation ! "*
We do not reach the harbour's mouth that opens
to Charlottetown until dark, but we have a full moon
and a clear sky. We see, as we approach, the dim
outlines of ships and wharves and houses, and church spires,
and this is the metropolis, the mother city of Prince
Edward's Island. We are moored about 8 o'clock, and
Turgeon and I go ashore together, after having bade fare
well to the nuns and the two Christian Brothers. We
stroll through the dimly-lighted streets — the main street;
gas has not yet found its way in here. We wish to find a
decent hotel ; it is called the " City Hotel " (for the Prince
Edward Islanders call their town of 7,ooot inhabitants a city).
We reach it, and enter. Our chief desire is to hear the news
of the great European conflict now waging between the
Prussians and French. Up to this time no serious engage
ment has taken place, nor has the dignity of either Power
been compromised. We find ourselves in a place that might
be called the reading-room of the hotel, and we take up the
paper of the day, Prince Edward's Island Examiner. Here
we find news from Europe, three days old, exactly the
same that we had heard before we left Quebec. This was
disheartening ; but it happened just as we were de
ploring the telegraphic shortcomings of P. E. Island, that
*Prince Edward's Island was incorporated (as a distinct State)
in the Dominion of Canada in 1873.
f Now over 1 1 ,000.

THE LAND OF THE BLUE NOSES. 91
a written telegram arrived, giving an account of a terrible
battle between the Prussians and French, in which the latter
were defeated with wholesale disaster.
On our way towards the ship we reach the cathedral, a fair
church enough, with a very great tower and a very short
spire. Next door was the bishop's palace, outside
was a carriage and horse, and the two Christian Bro
thers were urging the nuns to enter, and proceed to
the convent. The nuns, no doubt believing that the
carriage was too small, were resisting and expressing a
determination to walk, as the night was so fine. There was
a good deal of argument between the brothers and sisters on
the subject ; but at last the horse brought matters to a
speedy conclusion. He seemed to have grown weary of
listening, and so in brief he simply " took head." Away
he dashed at full speed, the nuns aghast and the two
brothers stupefied. We followed the runaway, who went
right round the next corner, pursued by a few young men,
who had been standing by, and found that he had toppled
over, having done very little injury to himself, and only
broken the box of the carriage.
We proceeded towards the ship, which we reached in time,
as all things are reached. We slept on board, for the ship
stayed here as at Shadiac over night, and next morning in like
manner a great part ofthe cargo was discharged. In the morn
ing again Turgeon and I sally forth together to do Charlotte-
town. But there is nothing to do. It is a very plain city,
with the streets broad, and cutting each other at right angles-
A voice from a window salutes us. It is that of Miss
Barker, who has taken up lodgings here. A judge from
Montreal is also staying here, for it is a watering-

92 ' DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
place, and rather frequented by people from the continent
of America. The Judge breakfasts with us on board.
We got some notions of Prince Edward's island. It is a
very fertile island, and produces a great quantity of grain. The
clay is of the old red sandstone description, and it is said
that there is scarcely a stone in the whole island. The
population is 80,000;* the Catholic religion appears to be
predominant. Bishop Mclntyre is the present prelate, the
whole island being one see, with 22 priests to 43 churches.
The people are independent and proud, regarding them
selves as quite able to manage their own affairs, and scorning
to belong to the Dominion or the States, not reflecting that
but for the protection of some greater power they should
become the prey of the first that wished to invade them.
There is no poverty on this island, and the people are lazy
and indifferent to advantages of labour. Thus the captain
offered some loungers one shilling an hour to assist him in
unloading, and although they admitted the payment to be
just and fair, they declined, much to his annoyance and
indignation. During the winter the island is icebound, and
for several months the inhabitants devote themselves to the
pursuit of literature, with a zeal proportionate to the vast
store of knowledge to be acquired. If those people,
despite their insular views, die happy, why disturb them?
The population are chiefly of Scotch and North of Ireland
descent. The land is undulating, and there is scarcely a
decent hill anywhere. There is a submarine telegraph to
Nova Scotia, which is some connection with the world.
At n o'clock, August the 9th, we proceed to Picton, a
distance about 60 miles across the Northumberland Sound.
* Now about 1 10,000.

THE LAND OF THE BLUE NOSES. 93
The air is very warm, and the voyage consequently very
pleasant. We reach Pictou at 3 o'clock, about an hour too
late to catch the train to Halifax. We must be content to
stay here all day and night, and leave for Halifax next
morning. Pictou is a pretty town, situated on the side of a
gently-sloping hill, not very high. The harbour is narrow,
and opens into a large basin,- which looks like a lake, not
quite so picturesque, nor so large as that of Queenstown,
yet resembling it somewhat. We go on shore, and seek the
chief hotel, where we first of all- look for the news. Unfor
tunately for Mr. Turgeon, the intelligence from the seat of
war thoroughly confirms all we had heard at Charlotte-
town, and adds the account of fresh disasters. His incre
dulity is too sorely tested, and he takes refuge in resignation.
We walk through the town and are surprised at its dulness.
It is as quiet as any Irish town I ever saw. We return to
the ship. Some go to bathe, including Turgeon, McCord,
and the young Browns. They return to tea, after which we
all go boating in the lovely water, smooth as glass. The
beautiful moonlight forms fiery serpents dancing on the water
in our neighbourhood, and illumines it into one silvery sheet
farther on. We sing, and are, of course, pleased with the
effect of our own voices. We are very happy. Turgeon
sings French songs, and we applaud as well as we can.
We return to the vessel and spend an hour or more on deck
enjoying the loveliness of the scene and the balm of the air.
I know not how it is, but strangers as we all are to each
other, we feel as if we loved each other, and condensed into
an hour the pleasantness of a communion which, for most of
us, must be soon broken for ever. We retire early, for we
must be up early in the morning to start for Halifax.

94 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
We leave Pictou at 6 a.m. Three rivers flow into this
harbour, and are navigable to about 60 miles up the country.
Here also are coal mines of great value. We journey onward
through a very wooded country all the way (112 miles in
eight hours) to Halifax, very little diversified with signs of
cultivation. The land is poor, oats being the chief crop.
Wheat is not much grown in Nova Scotia, as it becomes
the victim of a small insect called the "weevil," which de
stroys it in the first stages of its ripeness. Consequently
there is a large importation of flour.
The population of Nova Scotia is only about 350,000,*
about one-tenth of the population, of London. Shipbuilding
is carried on to a great extent here, and some of the wealthiest
shipowners in the world are said to be Nova Scotians.
Certainly there is wood. enough on the peninsula to build all
the ships ofthe world, and much more.
The Indians are protected yhere, and we see several
of them and their ve,ry rude wigwams — horribly ugly
creatures, especially , the women. Several beautiful lakes
lie between the woods, one fifteen miles long. The
scenery round those is magnificent, and .one cannot help
thinking how one of them w^uld adorn a nobleman's
demesne, and what pleasant times one could spend sailing
over them in a yacht, or fishing, as fancy would suggest.
Truro is the name of the most important town, about half-
ways on the route.
In due time we reach Bedford, a pretty place at
the head of Halifax Basin. The first glimpse of this
basin which we have here is fifteen miles from the city,
* Now about 450,000 .

THE LAND OF THE BLUE NOSES. 95
which is here visible — a very lovely view of hill, wood,
water, and islands. I begin to think Killarney is in danger
of losing its post of pre-eminence in my admiration. It so
happens that there is a large pic-nic party at Bedford, and
the sight of many ladies strolling through the fields and
along the rocky shore makes the scene very picturesque.
The conductor points out a pretty pavilion-like building
raised by the Duke of Kent, the Queen's father, when he
was Governor here. It commands a view of marvellous
beauty. At length we reach Halifax, and put up at the
" Halifax Hotel," Hollis Street, with which we were very
much pleased. Halifax is a pretty city, long and narrow,
situated along the shore of the sea with a commodious
harbour. The ascent from the shore is very gradual and of
small account. The summit behind the city is crowned by
a fortification called the " Citadel," which commands a
splendid view of the city, the bay, and the country beyond.
At the other side of the water also on the shore is a veiy
thriving town called Dartmouth. Halifax is built in "blocks,"
with the streets running parallel, and intersected by others
running parallel. There is a good sprinkling of trees
through the city ; it is remarkably clean, and quiet almost
to dulness. ' Instead of a quay there are several wharves in
the midst of the water. Just in front of the town rises
a large island, which is mounted with cannon, and forms a
great protection for the harbour. The population is, I believe,
about 35,000, about half being Catholics and the rest of
different religious persuasions. The Mayor, Mr. Stephen
Tobin, though born here is the son of a Cork mother.
Mr. Kenny, Governor pro tern, vice General Doyle, a

96 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
man of immense wealth, is an Irishman. Several of the
leading merchants are Irish. The Archbishop (Connelly) is a
Cork man. Few come here from Ireland of late years, and
those who are here are chiefly from Waterford and Kerr}'.
The British money is used here commonly, and it is pleasant
to me once more to handle sovereigns and half-crowns.
In the evening while airing myself on the steps of the
hotel, a gentleman accosts me and tells me he heard me
preach in Quebec, but what is more astonishing, he adds
that he often heard me preach in Cork. I am amazed, and
think of the line : — " Qu& regio in terris nostri non plena
laboris V The clergy receive us kindly. We call on the
Mayor, a fine young gentleman, who takes us to his office,
contributes to the object of our mission, and invites us to
his house. Mr. Kenny, the Deputy Governor, is equally
kind. The citizens in general treat us with great courtesy,
and we soon feel quite at home. I preach in the Cathedral
on Sunday, and we dine with the Mayor the same evening.
Monday (August 15) is a holiday, and there is a procession
through the principal streets of the Temperance Association,
men and boys with scarfs, &c. The procession begins at the
Cathedral, and ends there. The Glebe House, where the
clergy reside, is close by. The men stop and cheer, and
then, to my surprise, the band plays " God save the Queen,"
and all uncover. Irishmen can be loyal in Nova Scotia, but
not at home.
The loss ofthe "City of Boston" threw a great gloom
over Halifax.* About thirty notable persons were

?The City of Boston left Halifax for Liverpool on Jan. 28, 1870;
and was never heard of again.

THE LAND OF THE BLUE NOSES. 97
drowned in that vessel. Mr. Kenny, the deputy governor, lost
a son, a fine young man. Mr. Patrick Power, member for the
city, lost a son, his partner and his nephew. One day, travell
ing in a street car, I saw a nurse in charge of two lovely child
ren, of whom one was in arms. I admired the children, and told
her so. " Sir, their father was lost in the ' City of Boston,' "
she said. Indeed, wherever we turn we find some person
who has to deplore the loss of a relative or friend in the ill-
fated ship.
The Mayor is very kind. There was a regatta on
Monday, and in the evening there were public amuse
ments in the Gardens. To these gardens the Mayor took
us. It was very pretty. The show was what the papers call
a " decided success." There was a band of the 78th High
landers, and several gymnastic feats were performed by
soldiers. The whole garden was illuminated by Chinese
lanterns, Kerosene lamps, &c, and the attendance was very
large. That night twelvemonths I was gazing on the illumi
nations of Paris, in honour of the Fete Napoleon. Had any
one told me then, that on the next 15th of August I should
be viewing illuminations in Halifax, how surprised I would
have been, and what speculations I would have indulged in,
as to how such an event was to be accomplished.
The Hon. Mr. Kenny is a man of great wealth, as well as
high position. He is a Kerryman and made his own fortune.
He invited us to spend an evening at the house of his daughter-
in-law, Mrs. Kenny, which we did. The house was magni
ficent, just over an arm of the sea, and the opposite shore all
wooded. The company was very large and embraced clergy,
laity and ladies. We had a grand supper at 7 o'clock, and
then various amusements, cards, singing, billiards ; every-
H

98 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
thing was elegant, yet easy and homely. I met some Cork
people here and some few who had been in Cork. It was
very agreeable to converse with them about the " beautiful
citie." Mr. Kenny has invited us to his own house for
Friday. In this part of the American continent people
generally dine early. The hour for dinner at the hotel is
i o'clock, while supper comes off at 6. At Mrs. Kenny's
we had not supper, but what is called " high tea," that is to
say tea with meats, pastry and fruit — somewhat like our
dejeuner d la fourchetle at home.
As we are on the local names of things, I may
here mention that the name for a Nova Scotian is
" Blue Nose," because in winter the extreme cold imparts
a peculiarly cerulean tinge to the olfactories of the natives.
It is quite common on asking a man where he was born,
to hear him reply, " I am a Blue Nose," meaning that
he was born in Noya Scotia. We find the people here very
generous. They contribute largely and with pleasure to the
object of our mission.
As in most parts of America, the Irish occupy all
positions, from the highest to the lowest. If you find
a man in Halifax who has raised himself by his talents
and industry to a post of wealth and influence, the
chances are almost entirely in favour of his being an Irish
man. If, on the other hand, you find one occupying a
wretched house, in squalor and wretchedness, he too is a
Hibernian; one thing is certain, namely, if an Irishman
does not succeed in America it is not the fault of his nation
ality, the failure can be traced to his own personal short
comings in some fatal point. Nothing is so remarkable in
Halifax as the extreme quietness of the city. There is no

THE LAND OF THE BLUE NOSES. 99
noise, no thronging1 of carts or carriages, no crowding of
people, no hurry or bustle of any kind ; I never before saw
so much absence of business apparent in a city. There are
no manufactories here, although the natural resources of the
country are very great. In the neighbourhood of Halifax
are mines of gold, tin, lead, silver, iron, and coal ; there is
an abundance of water-power and yet no manufactures. The
people complain that the wealthy inhabitants are " close "
and unenterprising, and almost three out of every four are
anxious for annexation to the States.
We dined at Mr. Kenny's own house on Tuesday, the 25th, a
beautiful cottage just over the basin already spoken ©f, and
buried in foliage, through vistas of which one can catch charm
ing views ofthe water. The weather is all that can be desired.
Indeed the climate of Halifax, or rather of all Nova Scotia.
is remarkably mild and quite free from the extremes which
render other parts ofthe American continent so disagreeable.
The heat in summer is seldom unbearable, and the cold in
winter never excessive. Thunderstorms are very rare and
the mosquitoes, those plagues of the South, never torture
the epidermis of a "Blue Nose."
At Mr. Kenny's we spent a very pleasant evening. Several
of the clergy were present, and Some ladies. Mr. K. sent us
home six miles in his own carriage. Mr. Davy, son of the late
R. M. of Bantry, was also very attentive to us. He had us to
"high tea," which was got up very sumptuously indeed.
In a word, we received all manner of kindness in Halifax,
and prepared with great regret to leave it. I sent home
from here £,200 (the second to the Bishop) by the " City
of Baltimore." The more we went amongst the people of
Halifax the more reason we had to admire the depth and

ioo DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
sincerity of that two-fold attachment which seems to be the
birthright of Irishmen — namely, the love of their religion
and the love of their native land. Whenever we entered a
house we were received with a smile of welcome, and a
shake hands which placed us at once at our ease. We were
the.i ushered into the drawing-room, and all the members of
the family were summoned to meet us; in many places they
kissed our hands, and fell on their knees for our blessing.
The subscriptions we received were sometimes apparently
so far beyond the position of the donor, that wev declined
accepting them until we were assured that they could afford
them. " Oh I dear, you cannot afford to give so much."
" Indeed I can, sir ; and since God was so good as to give
me more than enough, the least I can do is to give Him a
little when He asks me for it." We were often touched by
remarks of this kind. The Catholics here are excellent in
their devotion to the faith and the general practice of re
ligion. The clergy assured me that the highest in rank were
the most exemplary in this respect, which is not always the
case. We were very hospitably treated by the clergy of
Halifax. The Vicar-General, the Rev. Dr. Hannon, in
vited us to dinner. Father Daly, another member of that
body, gave us a grand entertainment, at which several of the
local gentry were present. Father Allen (a native of Kin-
sale) had us to a grand pic-nic at a place called Dutch
Village, some three miles from town, a spot exquisitely
picturesque. Here also we met a number of lay gentlemen.
On the last day we spent in Halifax we were invited by the
same Father Allen to a " children's pic-nic." This children's
pic-nic is quite an American institution. During the summer

THE LAND OF THE BLUE NOSES. 101
months, the children of the various schools all proceed on a
certain day appointed for the purpose, either by railroad or
steamer, to some place where they spend the day in all
kinds of sports, under the guardianship of some priest or
other teacher, then dine in globo ; and again, like the
Israelites of old, after feasting^ rise to play. Ex uno disce
omnes. From Father Allen's pic-nic you may learn of what
kind are all the rest. A carriage was sent for us to our
hotel, at 2 o'clock, p.m. The pic-nic was to be held on the
grounds of the Archbishop's country-house,- some three
miles from the town. Thither we proceeded, and. reached
the place in almost half-an-hour. A magnificent mansion
indeed, very large, and built in a style of great architectural
beauty, although of wood,, as are most of the houses in this
part of America; wood is- warm and cheap, and durable,
and though it may imply that the owner is not able, to rise to
the dignity of limestone or granite, for all practical purposes
it is as good as either. Why should we sacrifice so, much
of our happiness to idle sentiment?1
The house is at present rented (during, the summer months,
in the absence ofthe Archbishop) by a Mr. and Mrs. Dwyer, a
young couple only recently married, whom we met at Mr.
Davis' "high tea" a few evenings before. Mrs. Dwyer was a
Miss McTavishfrom St. John's, N.B., a very charming young
lady, and her sister-in-law, Miss Dwyer, whom we also met
there, is on a visit with her. We call, and they receive us
very kindly.
We then go through the grounds, which we find
to be splendid. Woods and forests abound in Nova
Scotia, and here are fields, surrounded by trees, shut in from
all the world. A few hundred children, boys and girls, are

ip2 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
disporting themselves in various ways. There are several
"swing-swongs," where the little ones enjoy the pleasure of
oscillation. There are two or three spots covered plentifully
with boards, where boys and girls move on the light fan
tastic to the music of a violinist hired for the occasion ; the
big boys amuse themselves with foot-ball. Some parents
and friends of the children are about, and we see enacted
the spectacle described by Goldsmith, of " the young con
tending as the old survey." Father Allen is the presiding
genius — a good-natured and very gentlemanly young man.
Long tables are arranged for the dinner, and there is a
respectable staff of servants, for the thing seems to be
got up regardless of expense. The children are almost
all Irish, either by descent or birth, and while they
have lost some, they retain many characteristics of their
race. They are very tastefully dressed; very self-
possessed and intelligent. When spoken to, they reply
with confidence, and always address themselves to the
point. They prefer Irish airs for their dances to all others ;
and in their games of contention they display all the viva
city, enthusiasm, and pugnaciousness of the Celt. This
latter peculiarity was manifested strikingly in the game of
foot-ball. Twenty-four boys played twelve aside, and they
called themselves the French and Prussians. The battle
raged with as much fury as the contest just now being waged
between the original nations they represented. The sym
pathy of the bystanders was strongly carried in favour of the
French, but the Prussians fought nevertheless with unflinch
ing pluck. At length of course the French triumphed, and
it was hard for the beaten Prussians not to join in the
general shouts of congratulation.
We had a splendid dinner, and when the viands were

THE LAND OF THE BLUE NOSES. 103
consumed, toasts, speeches and songs followed, in
all of which amusement we were obliged, not un
willingly to share. We then adjourned to the house where
we met Mrs. and Miss Dwyer, whom we induced to
come out on the steps and witness several running matches
between the boys on the lawn. These were admirably con
tested, under the admiring gaze of the young girls who
ranged themselves in front of the house. Just as the games
were contested, a gentleman, accompanied by two ladies,
rode on horseback into our midst. These were a Mr.
Stubbins, and two cousins of Miss Dwyer — namely, the
Misses Tobin. We spent the evening with the Mayor's
family, and returned about midnight to our hotel.
Before leaving Halifax, I had an opportunity of seeing one
of her Majesty's men of war, the " Royal Alfred," through
which I was shown by Mr. Oliver, an Irish gentleman, one of
the Admiral's staff, whose acquaintance I had made here. He
introduced me to a lieutenant on board, a Mr. Gladstone,
nephew to the Premier. I also visited the Citadel and ex
pected to meet there a Dr. Clarke, another Irish gentleman
whom I had met at Mr. Davy's. He was not chez lui at the
time, but by the courtesy of an officer I was shown over the
whole place. The view of Halifax and the neighbourhood
from this point is truly grand. In the evening, just before we
left, a telegram arrived from Archbishop Connolly, saying
that he had left New York and might be expected in
Halifax next day. This was unpleasant, seeing that we were
so near making his acquaintance and yet so far. We were
delighted with everything in Halifax ; with the charming
scenery on every side ; with the people, and above all, with
the success of our mission. We received here the siim of
875 dollars — namely, ^175.

104 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.

CHAPTER VII.
ST. JOHN. GOOD-BYE TO CANADA.
Thursday, August $th. — We leave Halifax by train at
6 a.m. The first ten miles are along the basin whose beauties
I have already described ; the next nineteen miles lead to
Windsor, an important town at the head of the creek, and
those nineteen miles present a scene of barrenness as wild as
it is possible to imagine, always excepting the desert ot
Sahara. The ground is one mass of jagged rock, rising and
falling in confusion most confounding, with interjacent
herbage, scarcely sufficient to satisfy the cravings of a goat.
Trees and forests there are no doubt, stretching far, far
away, but for every one that looks green, ten seem charred
or withered, as if by some blasting pestilence. In some
places whole- acres, of wood have been cut down and the
blighted stumps remain, and will remain, for the land is un
susceptible of tillage. At the termination of this vast
wilderness starts up Windsor, a brisk, lively, bright little town,
with good streets and a business-like air; and we see in the
creek the masts of ships, and new ones building.
Away we fly from this little nest of human life, and Nature
now, with that caprice for which she is so remarkable, robes
herself in the gaudiest fashion ofthe period. The sunis shining
so brightly, and there is a vast, oh ! so vast a plain, stretching
away and away, farther than the eye can see, with cattle that
appears as small as ants in the distance, while beyond stand
the mountains with their boundless forests, like a countless

ST. JOHN. 105
army protecting this region of beauty. And do you know
what is the name of this charming region ? Acadia. And
what is this valley — this one smiling meadow called? It is
no other than Grand Prl, immortalized as the scene of Long
fellow's " Evangeline." The village of Grand Prl is near ;
the train pulls up there, and I long to get out and visit the
spot from which the perfidious soldiers of Albion banished
the guiltless. children of this, peaceful and happy land.
But we must on. The scenery from Windsor to Annapolis
— 129 miles — is famous for its beauty all over the world ;
mountain and vale and endless woods ; the forest primeval ;
a broad river, teeming fields, and lazy cattle, some browsing
on the herbage, some bathing in the water that seems loath
to tear itself away from so much loveliness. We reach Anna
polis, at half-past one, a very small village like Windsor. At
the head of a creek we embark. We steam away. The cap
tain is an Irishman of course, one O'Leary from Dunmanway.
Co. Cork. At the end of an hour we reach Digby, a very
small watering place within the harbour. Having given and
taken passengers, we proceed. We pass through the har
bour's, mouth, which is very like a mouth indeed, and find
ourselves in the Bay of Fundy, a portion of the Atlantic
Ocean. At Digby we took in a gentleman who was evidently
a votary of Bacchus, and who had been very recently
pouring libations at the shrine of that merry god. The
unfortunate man soon becomes the laughing-stock of every
body. He will talk to every one, and in a very loud way.
His perpendicular is constantly seeking the acute angle, and
as we sit on deck he topples into our laps one after an
other. We have all to look out for our corns, at least such as

106 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
have them. He makes a dead set on me. He devotes him
self to me, and imparts all kind of knowledge about the
coast, for he has been in the Bay of Fundy, forty, aye, a
hundred times. He is continually mistaking the cardinal
points, and frequently takes the bow of the boat for the
stern, and his information is conveyed in such a jumble of
speech, that no one can discern one word from another.
He asks every one down to the bar, and as he can get no
one to obey he goes himself, and returns after every visit
with increased lubricity of tongue, and fresh unsteadiness of
understanding; poor man, he becomes an object of universal
commiseration, and preached by his conduct an admirable
sermon on the vice of intemperance.
It is the hour of twilight as we steam up before St. John's.
The city is built right on the sea, and looks very pretty,
with its lamps, and dim church spires. It is built on an
elevation, too low to be called a hill, and too large to be
called a mound. The St. John river runs up from this point.
On the right hand is the city, on the left the town called
Carleton. We land and proceed to the Waverly House,
the first hotel in the city, kept by Mr. Guthrie, an Irish
Catholic. The Mayor of Halifax, who had been here last
week, told us that we would find it hard to get rooms, and
so he telegraphed to-day to say we were coming, and begging
of Mr. Guthrie to make us comfortable. When our carriage
arrived at the hotel, Mr. Guthrie looked through the window,
and said in simple language, but with an expressive air,
" All right."
August 26th. — At 6 o'clock in the morning I was waked
out of my sleep by a noise ; it was only a knocking at my
door. " Come in," I cried. It was a young man like a

ST. JOHN. 107
waiter, with a very long nose. All Paul Prys have long
noses. "Well, sir," said he, "Are you Father Buckley
from Cork ?" " Yes." " Why, then, sir, if you please,"
said he, and he spoke, oh ! with such a sweet Cork brogue,
" Are you the Father Buckley that was in Drinagh long
ago ? " "I am," I said. " Oh, sir, I thought so. The
minute I saw your name in the book last night I said it was
you. I knew you well, sir, and was often speaking to you
there. My name is Donoghue. My father kept a forge in
Drimmindy." " Ah, yes," I said, " I remember well." " Oh,
Lord, sir," said he, " I am wild with joy at seeing you, and
how in the world are you, your reverence ? " Lest Mr.
Donoghue might manifest his wild joy, in any peculiarly
savage, however affectionate manner, I informed him that I
would send for him in the course of the day, and have a
long chat with him about the old country. He was satisfied,
-and I resumed my sleep.
We waited on the Bishop (Sweeny), who lives in a mag
nificent palace close to the Cathedral. This palace is built
of stone, and its interior is quite in keeping with the exterior,
tasteful, and elegant, and rich. The Bishop himself is a man
of middle stature, gentlemanly, and good-humoured. He
permitted us to collect, and invited us to dine with him on
Sunday. We called on Mrs. Anglin, sister of Mrs. Dwyer, of
Halifax, already alluded to, and wife to Mr. Anglin, editor
of the St. John's Freeman. She said Mr. Anglin would 1
call on us. So he did. He is a native of Clonakilty,.
Co. Cork, a thorough Catholic, and Irish patriot. He
promised to notice our mission in the Freeman of to-morrow
(and did so).
We visit Mr. MacSweeny, one of the wealthiest Catholic

108 DIARY, OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
Irishmen in St. John, N. B., a Corkman. We find him and
his wife our best and staunchest friends during our stay in St.
John. They came out from Cork in the year 1826, and by
hard industry and good luck prospered, and now scarcely know
how rich they are.. They have no children, but they adopted
various orphan children of relatives,, whom they esteemed,
and brought them up in the best manner that the resources
of the province would allow. Mr. MacSweeny is a blunt
man, very warm-hearted and munificent, extremely unde
monstrative, silent ; but when, he does speak, talkative to
some purpose, full of common sense, and large experience,
an unflinching Catholic, and steadfast friend to all who need ,
his assistance. Mrs. MacSweeny is an excellent woman,
generous and hospitable, and straightforward.. Both ars
highly, and from, what I can see, justly esteemed by the
inhabitants of St. John.
We called, as I have said, on Mr. and Mrs. MacSweeny.
They entered warmly into our projects, and promised to assist
us by every means in their power. Mr. MacS., who appears ,
to be a man of large influence in St. John, immediately
issued a summons for some of his neighbours to attend, and
the summons was promptly obeyed. Arrangements were
made for conducting us through the city. From all I saw I
augured that our mission here was likely to be attended
with success.
We call on Dr. Travers, the Bishop's brother-in-law, a
member of the Travers family in the County of Cork,
and a convert to the Catholic faith. We had a letter of
introduction to him, and he receives us with the barest
courtesy compatible with the conduct of a gentleman, for
which, of course, we are very grateful. After dinner I am

ST. JOHN. 109

visited by Mr. T. Coghlan, a )'Oung gentleman, very well-
mannered, intelligent and agreeable. He places himself
entirely at my service, and I accept the offer. Thus the
ground is becoming gradually broken all around, and I
begin to feel quite at home. The hotel is excellent ; the
host genial. Indeed, the house resembles, not only to me,
but to everyone, a home more than a hotel. I am not
twenty-four hours in St. John, and I feel as if I had lived
in it a year.
From inquiries and observation I am able to make some
reliable remarks concerning St. John, N.B. It is a pretty
city, with very good broad streets, and some excellent shops,
or, as they are called in America, "stores." Two streets
are particularly fine, Prince William Street and King Street,
in the latter of which is our hotel. There is considerable
bustle and animation in the streets. In this respect the
city is very different from Halifax, of whose indolent air I
have already written. In the evening there is a good deal
of promenading, and the inhabitants are very lively and
chatty. From some points there are good views of the
sea, and the sights of ships in the river, and the throng
ing ofthe wharves is pleasant to a stranger. Ferry-boats,
such as first excited my surprise at New York, ply here
constantly between the city and Carleton, already alluded
to. There is also a fine suspension-bridge leading across,
under which are very respectable "falls," at low water.
High water fills the chasm, and the falls disappear. Fogs
are very frequent in St. John, but, as they come from
the sea, however unpleasant, they are not unhealthy. The
climate is mild all the year round as a rule, but exceptions are
frequent. In the suburbs there are some excellent mansions,

1 1 o DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A M ERIC A.
but not many, for St. John contains only a population of
35,000*, and is of a comparatively recent growth. There are
no manufactories worth talking of, and scarcely any public
buildings. One or two small " squares " with their grass and
trees relieve the eye ; cars are confined to one point as the
streets are hilly, but good carriages may be had for mode
rate fares. This seems to be all that can be said of the
city. The people are very agreeable in their manners, social,
easy, good-humoured and polite.. It is very much to be
regretted that religious bigotry prevails here to some extent,
a far greater extent indeed than the people seem willing
to admit.. The population is about equally divided between.
Catholics and all other denominations. The former have
only one church — the cathedral — an ostentatious building
erected at an expense far, beyond the result in- proportion.
There are several churches. of. other religious bodies, whose
towers and spires lend a picturesqueness to the scenery, and
no doubt fulfil loftier and worthier ends. The hatred of
Catholicity was very great in St. John long ago, that is to say
in the last generation ; but the growth of that Church has dis
armed contempt and opposition. An old man one day said
to me, " Sir, when I came out" here from Ireland, some forty
years ago, it was a dangerous thing in St. John to you if you
were a Catholic ; but now we have it all our own way."
Few Catholics, however, hold wealth or prominence in St.
John ; perhaps four or five is the highest number. Hence
they find it hard to bear up against the spirit of ascendancy
which belongs to the other party. The Press does not
strive to allay the pernicious feeling, and during my stay the
* This includes Portland. The population at present is about 42,00c.

I ST.JOHN. in
Protestant Telegraph and the Catholic Freeman had a smart
passage of arms on the religious aspect of the Franco-
Prussian War.
Trade is not active in St. John. Some time ago ship
building was a large source of wealth and prosperity, but'
it has fallen away. In America the sunlight of commerce
seems disposed to shine only on the States ; the Dominion
languishes in the "cold shade of opposition." Here again,
amongst a large section, tlie cry is "annexation," which
some few, however, persist in regarding as the certain fore
runners of failure and disaster..
That spirit of disunion which has become the proverbial
source of Ireland's misery, is. here apparent among her
children. The Catholics do not agree amongst themselves ;
they have cliques and parties,, and petty hatred. I am told.
that there are three classes of Catholics in St. John, dis
tinguished by a, conventional estimate of their relative
respectability. I must say, however,, for myself,, that I
found the people of all classes to be generous and couiiteous
in the highest degree. The Catholics are justly praised for
their attachment to the faith ; and in no place did I find
this quality so strongly developed. With it, as usual every
where amongst Irishmen, grew and flourished an ardent
love of their native land. And here also, as in other parts
of the British Provinces, did I find that the love of Ireland
is as strong, if not stronger, in those of Irish descent, as in
the Hibernian born. I suppose this is owing, in a great
measure, to the vivid imagination of our people, who from
their infancy upwards picture to themselves in colours even
more heightened than reality, the loveliness of Erin and the
virtue of her children.

1 1 2 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
In going about from house to house, from garret to garret,
I was able to see very clearly the condition of the Irish
emigrants, and I regret to say that in few instances was theii
condition improved. Many had as well have remained at
home, for they live here as in their former dwellings, in
poverty, and in no wise different because they have changed
their position on the globe. In St. John I met an immense
number of people from Cork City and Cork County, the
great majority of whom had come out here some eighteen
or twenty years ago, few later, but they, save in few
instances, had risen to no higher position than that of an
humble tradesmen or shopkeeper, while they alone are the
hewers of wood and drawers of water. One thing is very
clear, as I have already remarked, and it is that the gene
ration who emigrate do not as a rule rise in the social scale,
but their children born here, imbibing that love of freedom
which, as it were, floats in the atmosphere of America, and
meeting their fellow men on the same platform, grow inde
pendent and self-asserting, and become an honour to the
land of their ancestors.
Every day the impression grows deeper and deeper on
my mind that the Irish, with all their faults, are the noblest
race in all the world ; they have qualities of head and heart
superior to the rest of mankind, and but for the centuries
of iniquitous persecution to which they were victimised,
would long since have displayed those qualities, so as to
extort the admiration of their fellow-men. Weeds grow in
every garden. The Irish mind and heart have been left
untilled, uncultivated for ages ; the atmosphere around them
was poisoned by hatred, contempt, persecution, and
neglect ; but another day has come, they have been trans-

ST. JOHN. 113
planted to a more genial climate, and to a more produc
tive soil, the sunshine of freedom prevents their decay, the
waters of peace develop their vitality, they grow and flourish
from year to year, from generation to generation, destined
by their triumphs of industry and skill to confute the
prejudices of the old world, by founding and perpetuat
ing the greatness of the new.
We proceed on our collection, Mr. MacSweeny opening
the list with a cheque for ioo dollars. On the subject of
our collection I may say that we realized in St. John
altogether the sum of 1,100 dollars and were enabled to
send home to the Bishop the third ^200. Nor did we
experience any difficulty in making up this large sum of
money ; the people gave with great generosity. Not one
person said an unkind word, and we met very little mean
ness. The donations in general were small, but everyone
gave something.
I met a great number of Irish people as I passed from
house to house, and the vast majority of those I met
were from the County or City of Cork. Some knew me,
having come within the last few years ; but immigration
to St. John has ceased ; people prefer going to the States.
Several spoke the Irish language and were delighted to hear
me converse in it. I need not repeat all the complimen
tary things they said about my appearance, &c, nor all
the loving expressions they used to show their predilection
for a priest fresh from the old country. One woman said,
" Wisha, hasn't he the rale look of the ould sod." Another,
" Oh, then, father, I would like to be following you all
day." When we got into a street the news of our coming
went abroad. All had their subscriptions ready for us,
1

1 1 4 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
and if by chance we passed by any house a messenger
was sent after us to remind us of our mistake. Our pro
gress was slow, as we had for the most part to sit down,
and tell the people some news of the dear country they
had left behind. No one was poor, that is to say, absolutely
poor ; even in the humblest houses the- good women had
their twenty-five or forty cents ready for us, and gave them
with a good heart. In. many cases they gave and then
inquired the object. It was sufficient for them that they
gave to an Irish priest. Indeed no words could exaggerate
the intense love of religion and fatherland- that animates the
breasts of the Irish abroad as well as at home.
We attended a large pic-nic given for the St. Vincent de
Paul Society, at a very beautiful place seven miles from
town, on the banks of the river " Kennebekasis," a tribu
tary of St. John river. The house and grounds belong to
the Bishop, whose mother occupies them at present. A
pic-nic such as they have in America is altogether different
from ours. It is a means of raising money for some speci
fied object, chiefly charitable. It is advertised that a pic
nic is to come off on such or such a day, at such or such a
place, and that the people can go to it either by rail or
steamer. The committee hire the rail or steamer for that
day for a certain sum, and receive by the sale of tickets
a sum that leaves a large surplus to their account. Then
there are various sports on the grounds, such as foot-racing,
leaping, archery, dancing, quoits, and several other amuse
ments. Tickets are got for admission to the grounds.
Refreshments also are to be had, and the total receipts
go for the object specified. Great crowds gather on these
occasions, and the number varies with the popularity of

ST. JOHN.

the object. All are well dressed, arid apparently happy. No
excess or disorder of any kind takes place ; no intoxicating
liquor is sold on the grounds, and although on such occasions
the majority of those who assemble are Irish, yet you miss the
broad, loud-voiced hilarity of such gatherings at home, and
however you may be a lover of peace,, you are inclined to
sigh for one flourish of a shillelagh, and one cheer for the
successful wielder of the national weapon. We- drove out in a
carriage and pair with Mr. Guthrie,, his. daughter, and Miss
McDonough. Some hundreds were assembled. The day
was all that could be desired, the Bishop also was present ;
we walked through all the grounds, several persons asked
for an introduction, and we were nothing loath to satisfy
them. A party of us was arranged to go- up the St. John river
to Fredericton, on Saturday, September i-oth, and we all
looked forward to it with great pleasure. On the principle
of the " more the- merrier," we endeavoured to recruit as
many as possible for the day's enjoyment.
Who is not acquainted with the American's love of adver
tisement ? Of this their newspapers give striking evidence,
for three quarters of every journal are crowded with advertise
ments of every description, while only one quarter is devoted
to local, foreign, or general news, and lest the ordinary mode
of advertising may prove ineffective, considerable ingenuity is
shown in attracting the reader's attention to special notices.
Thus in the editorial columns, where you expect to read
something peculiarly novel and startling in the way of intel
ligence, you find yourself decoyed by a startling heading
into a description of some potent quack medicine or other
" Yankee notion." But I need not give examples of what

1 1 6 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
every one knows. For my part I was excessively annoyed
one day when reading, amOngst other things, a very start
ling story in a newspaper, to find that towards the conclu
sion, where I anxiously expected the denouement, I was
treated to a description of the wondrous qualities of " Helm-
bold's Bucha " or " Parson's Pills." One of the most artful
dodges in the way of advertising that I have yet encountered
was one I witnessed in St. John. A splendid open carriage
is driven through the streets by four spanking horses. The
equipage and harness are superb. At some public square
or market-place, where people most do congregate, the
horses pull up, and the gaudy vehicle is transformed into a
kind of platform, on which four or five musicians, sumptu
ously attired, take their places. A concert, vocal and instru
mental, is improvised, and the programme is really excellent.
In the intervals of the playing and singing, Coryphceus
expounds the merits of a new and powerful medicine, just
invented, possessing in itself all the qualities of all the
medicines ever known before. No disease can stand before
the redoutable nostrum, and the cure is wrought not slowly,
and only in part, but suddenly, effectually, and for ever.
This wonder of the world, this miracle of Pharmacopoeia, is
entitled " Flagg's Instant Relief," and is sold for the ridi
culously small sum of one dollar per bottle. Will it be believed
that thousands are gulled by the blarney of these itinerant
musical medicine vendors, and the great unseen Flagg realizes
a gigantic fortune by the credulity of an innocent public ?
No less than twelve equipages of this kind do the work of
advertising and selling his " Instant Relief;" and it is said
fifty dollars a day is about the amount received by each'
i troupe, an enormous receipt in return for a trifling outlay.

ST.JOHN. 117
Saturday comes and at twelve noon we leave by steamer for
Fredericton, by the St. John river, a distance of eighty-five
miles. This river is considered one of the beauties of
America, and we are naturally anxious to see it. But, unfor
tunately for our hopes, it is foggy and wet all day. The
river charmed us much more than we were prepared to
expect. Perhaps because its beauties were veiled, our ima
gination clothed it in loveliness it had not, or perhaps
because we were all on a friendly footing, we were disposed
to admiration. Howbeit, we were excessively pleased and
happy, and consoled ourselves with the hope of seeing the
river to greater advantage next Monday on our return.
We arrived at Fredericton at half-past six o'clock, and
stopped at the "Queen's Hotel," a very fine new one, on
the principal street. Messrs. Guthrie and Coghlan are known
to every one, and we feel quite at ease, though in a strange
place. We visit the Parish Priest, Father McDevitt; he
lives in a fine house, and is very popular. Fredericton ranks
next after St. John in respectability in New Brunswick.
We return to our hotel, and spend a very pleasant evening,
chatting, singing, story-telling, and in what pleases the Ameri
cans beyond anything, in conundrums, good, bad, and
indifferent. The morning up to dinner we spent at church.
Out of a population of 6,000 scarcely 2,000 are Catholics,
and almost all those are Irish. The congregation was very
respectable ; there was not a single badly-dressed person in
the church. The church itself is decent, quite finished, with
a spire, and evidently in the hands of a good and holy
priest. We dine at one o'clock, and immediately after
prepare to drive out.
The weather since yesterday has taken a violent and

1 1 8 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
sudden change from hot to cold. It is quite dry and
bracing, but the thermometer can scarcely get beyond
50" in the shade. In Fredericton it frequently goes up
to 100", and higher, during some days in summer. The
place is remarkably bot during that season. Frederic
ton is prettily situated on the St. John river; its streets
run at right angles, as in most American towns and cities ;
and the principal street is that which runs nearest to
and parallel with -the river. It is a one-sided street, that
is to say, the houses are all at one side, if we except the
part occupied by the barracks, and a wall running outside.
There are about four churches of any note in town, and
their tall spires are very ornamental. The Cathedral, at
one end of the town, is very beautiful, within and without.
From the summit of one church spire rises a hand, with the
forefinger pointing heavenwards. I did not like it, for it
seemed too practical a representation of that to which the
spire itself has been poetically compared, viz., a finger
pointing to heaven.
We admired the Exhibition building, the "Hermitage,"
a beautiful wooded place, purchased by the Bishop for a
Catholic burying-ground, but, above all, the College, mag
nificently situated on a rising ground, and commanding a
splendid view of the river and the surrounding scenery.
We passed by the Governor's house, and would have
called but that he is somewhat of a Puritan, and would not
understand visiting on a Sunday.
The British troops have been- quite withdrawn from Fred
ericton. While they were here the place was lively and
gay, and a great deal of money was spent — something
about ^60,000 per year. What a falling off in the pros-

ST.JOHN. 119
perity of the city the loss must create — I say " city," for
Fredericton is the capital of New Brunswick, and the Parlia
ment of the Province sit here, in a house of wretched
style and dimensions. By the way, it is singular that in
many parts of America the local Parliaments should sit
in places of less than fifth-rate importance. Witness
"Ottawa in Canada, Albany in New York, and Frederic
ton in New Brunswick.
About thirty miles from this place is a colony of Cork
people, known as the Cork " Settlement." However they
came here I know not, but they are almost all Cork folks —
once there was no exception — about 60 families, all very
comfortable and happy. Speaking of Fredericton, I find
that Lord Edward Fitzgerald, according to his "Life" by
Tom Moore, was some- time stationed here, and that he
travelled from Quebec on snow-shoes, a distance of some
three hundred miles. The allusion to Lord Edward reminds
me of the fact that during our drive to-day we passed by
the house of a certain Colonel Minchin, who was actually
on guard at the execution of Robert Emmet. The man
is still alive, and must be an enormous age. At that time
he was lance-corporal in the Irish Volunteers.
We return to the hotel, after which we cross in a ferry
boat to the other side of the river to inspect an Indian
village situated just on the bank. When we arrive, a short
walk brings us to the outskirts of the village, where we
find about a half-dozen Indian girls walking. Civilization
has done so much for them that, instead of the blankets
which we associate with the idea of a squaw, they were
dressed in very pretty garments, and showed no symptoms
of savage breeding, except the taste for gaudy colours, for

120 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
indeed their gowns were of every conceivable colour of the
rainbow, and had a very pretty effect to the eye of a spectator.
They seemed very bashful, for the moment we addressed
them they scattered and fled. I think, however, that their
bashfulness arose rather from their ignorance of our language,
for they speak only their own tongue, with the exception of
a few who have to transact business with their white
brethren. A slight shower of rain afforded us a good pre
text for taking refuge in. one of their houses, and here again
we observed the traces of civilization,, for. the hut was no
longer a wigwam (with which, however, the country abounds)
but a decent wooden house — small, to be sure, but well
built and sufficiently clean. There was a stove, on the top
of which was what we call a "bastuble oven," and in the
oven, no doubt, a cake was being baked. I observed on
the walls two pictures, very highly coloured, one representing.
the Madonna and Child, the other St. Michael, killing the
Dragon. Here were the indications of Catholic training
and on inquiry I found that everywhere amongst the Indians
who have been at all affected by civilization, the Catholic
is the prevailing religion.
A young man stood leaning against the pipe of the stove.
He wore a jerry hat, a black velvet coat, much the worse
for the wear, of which doubtless he had been made a
present of by some one. He spoke English fairly, and
without reluctance. Two young women were present,
each with a child ; one child her keeper had just taken
from an old shawl lying on the ground. A little hammock
swung close by the child's cradle ; a small puppy, a duck,
and a kitten formed a happy family reposing on the only
thing like a bed that lay in the corner. The children

ST. JOHN. 121
were very different from each other, one rather white,
the other extremely sallow, but both with the inevitable
black eyes and black hair. We conversed with the man.
He was a Catholic, so were all the tribe — the " Maniseet."
He could read, and had a small book in his own language,
the " Gospel of St. John," which he presented to me, and
which I now have ; he said he had another. It was trans
lated, he said,, by a missionary (Protestant) who came out
from England, and learned the language by living amongst
the people of this tribe;- He never essayed to convert them
to the religious views of his sect, Gontent to learn their
tongue and strive to help civilization by letting them know
the truths of inspiration.
This young man told us that the Indians subsist during-
winter by hunting. The moose and the caribou are the-
favourite objects of their, sports. They feed on the- flesh
and make clothing of the skins or sell it. Of the moose's
hair they make exquisite ornaments, for- it is dry and
hard, and bears the dye well. I have seen some cigar
cases made by the Indian women with flowers on the sides
of moose hair, and nothing could surpass- them for beauty;
other ornaments- the women also make and baskets, and the
men fish in their canoes. They need little, and that little
they can easily make out. Begging comes quite natural to
them ; it appears to be a profession almost universally
exercised. We go to the next house, and here a more curious spectacle
meets our eyes. The house consists of only one room, in the
middle of which is a stove. Around this stove on the ground are
squatted about a dozen women, young and old. A few men
are sitting on chairs, as if to indicate the superiority of their

1 2 2 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
sex. In one corner a man and woman are playing a game,
and a very curious game it is. Sitting on the floor, a cloth
is spread before them, and they have a wooden bowl rather
shallow, in which there are about six or. eight things like
buttons, one side of them is plain white, the other side is
dotted with black spots. The man shakes the bowl and
tosses the buttons, as a cook may turn a pancake. He then
hands it to the woman who performs the same operation.
The play seems to consist in an effort to bring all the buttons
with the plain or dotted side uppermost without exception.
A silly game apparently. They did not desist while we
stood at the door except for a moment. A general chatter
went round in the Indian tongue, and we were perfectly at
sea until one ofthe women pointing to me said " Bishop."
She was then informed who I was, and she seemed pleased
by her having hit the mark so nearly. The young women
were not bad looking, but they were far from handsome '
according to our notions. Their hair was jet black, and
some of them wore it in long flowing locks down the back.
I remarked though very glossy it was very coarse. Their
eyes also were black as coal, and these were the characteris
tics of all without exception ; the men's eyes and hair were
black, but their hair was cut short on their polls. Men and
women alike had high cheek bones, and very yellow or dark
complexions. Their look was highly intelligent, and it is a
pity that greater efforts are not made to civilize them.
Prince Arthur some few years ago when he was out here,
took one of them home with him, and had him educated at
Cambridge. The young savage became a young gentleman,
and one of very engaging manners. He is a doctor, I saw
his name, but I forget it. It was one of extraordinaiy

ST. JOHN.

length. He practices at Toronto, but he is cut by his tribe
for having condescended to mix so freely with his paler
brethren. Before we leave some young Indian lads volunteer to show
us their skill on the bow and arrow. We fix a cent on the
ground, and they compete with each other in the effort to
shoot it from its position. They seldom miss. We then
fix it at a greater distance on the top of a short stick, and
their success is the same. One young lad particularly dis
tinguishes himself, and bore off a great many prizes, for we
gave ten cents for every successful shot. Here we saw a
beautiful canoe just finished, which the owner placed on
his head for our amusement, and ran a considerable dis
tance. We returned to Fredericton very much pleased with our
visit to the Indian village. The evening we spent with the
MacDonalds, a most respectable family, who treated us with
the greatest kindness, and did all in their power to induce
us to prolong our stay. Next morning, Monday, Sept. 12th,
we rose early, because the boat was to leave at 9 o'clock,
The morning was bitterly cold, just like winter, and the
wind was skinning, but it was fine and bracing, and on the
whole agreeable. I see at one of the wharves a steamer
named " Olive." It reminded me of a dear friend far away,
of whom that is a pet name. We are escorted to the boat
by "troops of friends." Fredericton looks pretty as it sits
on the gentle river, and I forgive the spire for its hand as it
points to the region of sunshine and eternal peace.
And now the river, for there is nothing to-day to mar its
beauty. It is a lovely river, broad, sinuous, with flat, grassy
banks,' great meadows, and beyond ranges of wooded hill

i24 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
all the way. The scenery is tame, and all around the land
is more or less cultivated ; but we see no grand mansions
such as adorn the river banks of our rivers in Europe. Art
has done little. Nature is left to herself ; but she is always
beautiful. At a point called Oromocto, we witness a strange
spectacle, one that I never witnessed before. About a
quarter of a mile in front of us we see large black bodies
projecting out of the water, to the number of about ten
or twelve. When we come near we find them moving
across the river, and as we approach quite close we dis
cover that they are horses swimming from the mainland
to an island in the river. They had to swim at least
a quarter of a mile, and some were foals following their
dams. The man at the wheel told me it was usual, and
directed my attention to a: man on. the bank who had driven
them across. It appears cattle cross in the same manner.
When the horses had gotacross they spoiled the good effect of
the cleansing they had got by rolling in the sand.
There are some projections on the river called by strange
names, for example, "The Devil's Back," "The Minister's
Face," and " No Man's Friend." Some places in New
Brunswick have very queer names, all of Indian origin. I
may instance a few. " Quispamsis," " Nauwigiewauk,"
"Ossekeag," "Apohaqui," " Plumweseep," " Penobsquis,"
"Magaguadavic," and " Memrancook." The most picturesque
part of the St. John River is that which extends to ten miles
above the city. The scenery is bold, and trees grow in
abundance from the bare rock to a great height over the
water. There are a hundred spots of which you would say,
" Oh ! if it were given to me to live until the day of my
death in that sweet spot, with a competence, and com-

ST. JOHN. 125

panions of my choice, how happy would I be." It is a pity
to spoil the charms of so pretty a thought, but alas ! to
darken your pathway would come the clouds, and blasts
and snows of winter, and the companions of your choice
would die when you would most choose to love them. It is
better strive to be happy wherever we may be than to
sigh for happiness we cannot attain. Real contentment is
a blessing ; imaginary contentment a torture. We had great
fun coming down the river, and the Trulls were very much
amused by some puzzles we gave them, puzzles familiar
to us from our childhood, but apparently quite new to
them, such as the fox, goose, and sheaf of corn
— the eight, six, and five gallon casks — the men and their
wives crossing the river, the snail, and 14 feet pole, &c,
&c. But here we are again at St. John, about 3^ o'clock.
The city has grown quite familiar to me, and the people nod
to me as I pass. I return to it with a kind of affection,
for we have received more kindness here than anywhere in
our lives before. On our arrival at the hotel, several gentle
men called to see us and pay their respects. Some had
called during our absence. There were letters containing
donations, and letters inviting us to supper parties. In
fact we were missed out of town, as if we were leading
citizens. Colonel Drury had called and left a note. The
faithful Major McShane was on the watch for our return.
We were almost " ovated." We could scarcely get time to
dress for an evening party, to which we had been invited
by a Mr. Henry Maher whose relatives live near Cork.
We got there, however, in time, and his supper was, indeed^
magnificent. On my return to the hotel, I had to begin

1 2 6 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
again with the Guthries, the MacDonoughs, and the faith
ful T. Coghlan. Mr. Guthrie one afternoon took me out
driving, and pointed out the remarkable places about St.
John. The most beautiful residence in the suburbs was
that of a Mr. Reid, one of two brothers, Irish Protestants
from the North, who "began at nothing," and are now
owners of the "Blackball Line of Packet Ships." The
house in question is as fine a mansion as I ever saw,
situated on the very topmost summit around St. John, and
commanding a splendid view of the city and the sea. The
house of the brother is near but not half so grand. Here
is also the house of a Mr. Robinson, another self-made
man. America is full of such men. We mounted to the
" Observatory," which, commands a beautiful view, and
was once a French camp or fort, until they were driven
from it by the- Englishi The celebrated William Cobbett
was stationed at this fort, as a private soldier, and
found his wife in the neighbourhood. Walking one
evening with a friend he saw a young woman washing
and then and there resolved that she should be his wife.
The matrimonial negotiations were not long doing, as there
was not much to win or lose at either side, and the washer
woman was united for life to the philosopher.
Some few evenings after Mr. Reid, the owner of the grand
house, gave a " promenade concert," for a Ragged School,
and Mr. Guthrie and Miss Guthrie and I attended. The
word Ragged School, to our Irish ears, are suggestive of
proselytism. Not so here. The institution is purely charit
able, though it has an unhappy name. It was quite a sensa
tional event in St. John. Everyone went to it. The roads
around the demesne were thronged with carriages and foot-

ST. JOHN. 127
passengers. We entered. The house and grounds were
splendidly illuminated with Chinese lanterns. All the
avenues were gracefully lit up, and the whole scene looked
like fairyland. The night was calm, nay, breathless,
and the moon and stars shone out, and beneath the placid
sea lay in silver light, as if sleeping after the toils of a
tempest. A band played in front of the house, and there
was no other amusement worth mentioning. But the
people here are easily amused. It must be said also that they
are very well conducted, and orderly. I very much fear
if such a place were thrown open to our young folks in
Cork, the "boys." would not behave themselves. with exem
plary propriety, but all went merry as a marriage belk On our
way home, we passed over a suspension bridge, beneath
which are- curious falls. When the tide is going out they
fall outwards ; when the tide is flowing, they fall inwards,
and when the tide is full they do. not fall at all, but are
flooded over.
Thus feted and feasted, dining^ and supping with> new
friends every day, honoured and respected, our appeal
successful beyond our hopes, taking our pleasure in the
interval of labour, the companions of gentlemen, the
beloved of the poor Irish, who watched and pursued us,
happy in our hotel as in a home, we deemed it high
time to depart from St. John, and not wear out a welcome
so cordially offered and so admirably sustained. We
therefore fixed on Wednesday, September 14, for our
voyage to Portland. Mr. McSweeny insists on having
us the last day. He has a country house, and we must
have a good drive, and dine with him. Accordingly at 10
o'clock we arrived at his house. There are three open car-

1 2 8 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
riages, with a pair of horses each, ready for us, and some
friends whom he had invited to meet us. T. Coghlan, of
course, is of the party. The day is lovely, and so we all
drive away. Our route lay eastward from the city, and the
chief features of the landscape were cultivated fields, undu
lating land, very much forest, half reclaimed woodland,
with the stumps of trees still adhering to the ground, the
soil in some places barren, in others fresh and green, an
occasional homestead, snug and comfortable, and now and
then a splendid mansion, the country seat of some wealthy
merchant Mr. McSweeny's house is situated at a distance
of about seven miles from the city, and he has about 150
acres of land, a fine house, sheltered from the north by a
gentle hill, and with a river flowing in the valley below.
Land is had very cheap in New Brunswick. It can be pur
chased for a half-dollar an acre; but, before the purchaser
becomes proprietor it must be cleansed. He is then owner
in fee. What a grand opportunity for young men who have
any means at home to come out here, work hard for a few
years, and then -become lords ofthe soil, independent for ever.
We drove farther westward for about nine miles, the
scenery presenting the same features the whole way, and the
road as good as one would wish to travel over. Population
is very sparse in these parts. The same may be said of the
whole province, whose population does not exceed a quarter
of a million. The great object of interest to which Mr.
McSweeny wishes to hivite my attention is Loch Lomond,
a lake more than twenty miles long, by an average breadth
of four miles. But, before we reach Loch Lomond, it is
resolved that we diverge from the main road, and visit the
scene of the Munroe murder.

ST. JOHN. 129
The circumstances of this murder are so singular that I
cannot forbear describing them. In the. month of October,
1868, a young gentleman named Munroe, about thirty-two
years, exercised the profession of architect in the city of
St. John. He was of respectable birth and connexion,
but his moral character was far from irreproachable.
Though a husband and a father, it was generally believed
that his wife did not monopolise his affection. Nor was
public suspicion incorrect, although the precise object of
his attachment was unknown ; and he conceived the
desire and formed the determination to rid himself by
violent means of the unhappy partner of his guilt; The
absence of his wife in Boston presented him with a good
opportunity of effecting his purpose. One day he hired a
carriage and drove the young lady with her child along this
very road which we have just traversed. They arrived at a
tavern situated just by the borders of Loch Lomond, and
called Bunkei's, from the name of the proprietor. Here they
dismounted, and Munroe informed the coachman that he
and the lady were about to pay a visit to a friend — a Mr-
Collins, who lived some short distance off the high road —
and that they would soon return, except (what was highly
probable) that the Collinses would insist on the young lady
staying with them for some days. They took their way
through a narrow road with thick woods on either sides, and
were soon lost to view. After half-an-hour's absence they
returned, took some refreshment at Bunkei's, and returned
to the city. It is greatly surmised that the unfortunate man
intended to commit the murder on that day, but postponed
it for some reason ; while some are of opinion that he only
came to inspect the ground. He told the coachman that
K

130 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
the Collinses were not at home, but that they would be in a
few days.
On the following Saturday the same coachman was hired,
and the party proceeded as before to Bunkei's. The
murderer and, his two victims diverged again into the
wooded road,, and after twenty minutes he returned alone.
He took a glass, of brandy at the tavern, chatted loudly on
the topics of the day, lit a cigar and drove home. Nine
months elapsed, and no breath was uttered of the missing
young lady, much less of. the horrible crime by which her.life
was sacrificed-.
After the lapse of some long period, however, some-
niggers who lived in a settlement not far from the scene
of the murder, while cutting timber in the wood, sud
denly discovered buried beneath branches of brushwood
the bodies of a, woman and child very far advanced in de
composition. They gave the alarm, and great excitement
was created by the intelligence in. St. John. An inquest
was held, but the police could suspect no one for the crime.
At length a man named Kane, a person of bad reputation,
who could give no account of his missing wife, was arrested;
and the evidence went very hard against him. Munroe still
exercised his profession in St. John, and was at this time
actually engaged in repairing the gaol wherein poor Kane
was confined. A gentleman told me he heard Munroe say
that the ruffian who perpetrated so gross a crime deserved
to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. Yet he was the coolest
man in town during all. this fearful investigation. He trusted
to his respectability and the influence of his friends, and
nothing seemed, likely to compromise him. At length
the coachman who had driven Munroe and his victims

ST.JOHN. 131

felt himself bound to reveal all he thought of the trans
action ; and this gave a new and startling aspect to the
whole affair. Once that the authorities got the proper scent
they hunted up the matter so well that a case of circum
stantial evidence, perhaps the strongest on record, was
made out against Munroe. He was tried,, found guilty, con-
fesssd his crime, and was executed February 5, 1.870. He
shot the young woman, through the brain ; I have not heard
how he despatched the child. A pamphlet of the whole
affair is published, and a friend, has promised to send me a
copy by post to Boston..
We turned our horses up the road from Bunkei's corner,
and after going about a hundred yards a pole stuck in the
ground at the left hand, side, with, a white cloth tied round
the top, indicated the point at which the murderer and
his victims entered the wood. We dismounted and
followed a swamp path made by the frequent visitors who
come to view the spot, until we found ourselves in an open
place surrounded by wood. In the centre was a large
white stone, on which it is supposed they sat some
minutes previous to the murder. The ground all round
was damp. Another pole with a piece of cloth on the
top was stuck in the earth close to the stone. Here the
crime was committed, and here the bodies were laid. A tree
in the neighbourhood was pointed out, and we observed
several cuttings from which the murderer had with his pen
knife procured branches to cover the bodies. No lovelier
spot could be conceived, nor one so hidden from human
gaze ; but the eye of the All Seeing watched the murderer
and exacted blood for blood.
We came away with feelings of sadness and reach Bunkei's,,

132 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
where we do not stay. We push on to Loch Lomond,
and it must in truth be said that it is a magnificent lake.
The hills all round are wooded ; the highest is called Ben
Lomond. Having never seen the originals of these places
of Scotch nomenclature, I cannot draw comparisons ; but
I only hope the Scottish scenery is equal to that of its
namesake of New Brunswick. I need not describe the
dinner at Mr. M'Sweeny's country house on our return.
Suffice to say it was Irish — Irish in its style, Irish in its
profusion, Irish in the warmth of feeling that existed in
the breasts of hosts and guests. Mrs. M'Sweeny was
present, and all her young protegees were with her ; some
other ladies also lent a charm to the feast. Champagne
flowed profusely, and other wines graced the board. Our
host was in high glee, and broke from his taciturnity by re
peated exclamations of delight. I proposed his health, which
was drunk with enthusiasm. He tried to respond, but his
feelings overpowered him and he burst into tears. When he
had sat down and recovered he called it the happiest day of
his life, and indulged in various commendations of his
reverend guests, which my modesty forbids me to record.
After tea we drove back to town, and took a last farewell of
Mr. and Mrs. M'Sweeny, the best husband and wife I ever
met, and amongst the very best of human kind.
I should have mentioned that amongst the parties to
which we were invited one of the most elegant was that
of the Coghlans. Here I had an opportunity of making
the acquaintance of Mr. Coghlan and his daughter, a very
agreeable young lady. Mr. Anglin, editor of the Freeman,
gave us a splendid party, quite a sumptuous affair, and
the leading citizens were present. One guest is Major

ST. JOHN. 1 33
M'Shane, an Irishman, who stays at the " Waverley." He
is a lawyer in town, and an officer in the Volunteers. He
is unmarried, is a Catholic, and is a scholar,. a> virtuous
and patriotic gentleman. He takes- to- us, and becomes
a warm, attached, and devoted friend.
The last hours of our stay in St. John were spent at
the hotel where all our friends met in globo: Several
gentlemen had called and left P.P.C. (pour prendre conge)
cards during the day, and some had left their subscriptions.
One poor woman, who had not seen us hitherto, called to
ask our blessing before parting ; she was from Cork. In
fact the last few hours were essentially sensational, and as
hilarity waxed fast and furious the hours grew on and it was
one o'clock before ve were permitted to retire. We had to
rise next morning at the early hour of 6 to do our, packing —
by no means-ari easy task — and when that was near finished
my friend Coghlan was at his post, namely, at my bedroom
door, soliciting permission to aid in the final function of
"speeding the parting guest." We breakfasted and pro
ceeded in a carriage to the wharf. There our friends were
assembled. Some three hundred passengers crowded the
steamboat; there was- the usual bustle, the hurrying to and
fro. At every step to the boat we encountered some new
friend come to bid farewell, and when the bell sounded for,
strangers to go ashore, there was the last shake hands, and
the blessing, and the hope to meet again, however diffidently
entertained. We cannot bear this idea of never meeting
again. A something in our very nature advises us-of another
world where we meet to part no more. " I shall see you
again," I say. " Oh, yes," is the reply ; " I shall go to
Ireland some time before I die, and I know where to find

134 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
you. Good-bye. God bless you ! " " Good-bye," I say,
" good-bye." The moorings are loosed, the steam ceases to
make that horrid noise that precedes the parting ofthe vessel;
our distances from the shore increases. Now no token of
friendship remains possible but the parting glance, the flutter
of the handkerchief, and the silent prayer. A fog, so fre
quent in St. John, shortens the period of mutual recognition.
A moment and the very church spires of St. J ohn are buried
in mist. The morning is soft, breathless and balmy, and the
sea is gentle as a slumbering babe.
We steam slowly away, and the very silence of our pas
sage through the water calls up by contrast the excitement
of the past three weeks. I feel a disposition to gloom, but
strive to shake it off. We go once more to a land of
strangers, and we know not what our success may be. We
look around amongst the passengers, and we who were
so feted and feasted during the previous weeks, nay months,
see no familiar face. All are strange ; none known us, and
we know none. Our spirits would droop if we let them,
but we argue that we have heretofore had those feelings of
despondency, and that we fared better than we anticipated.
Who knows what good luck may be in store for us yet.
Here is "Partridge Island," just in the harbour. It was
to St. John what Grose Isle was to Quebec — the quarantine
of the Irish during the year of plague, and their burial
place. Some thousands of our countrymen lie buried in
this small island.
The scenery from St. John to Portland — for Portland
(Maine) is the place of our next visit — is not of remark
able interest. The vessel coasts the whole way as far as
Eastport, by the New Brunswick shore, keeping very close,

ST. JOHN. 135

The weather is so fine that she can keep close. There is
nothing to note about the coast. It is low, woody, and the
soil is bad. We reach Lubeck, a pretty village, where we
do not touch, and steer out through a narrow harbour,
passing between some islands and the mainland
About noon we reach Eastport, the first town on the
American continent belonging to the States in this direc
tion. The State is that of Maine. Immediately opposite,
at a considerable distance at our left, is the island of
Campo Bello, which the Fenians once "occupied." All
the islands here belong to the British. How lovely is
the weather, and how pretty the boats look — some large
and some merely of pleasure — with their white sails on the
smooth, sparkling, placid water ; and how charming is the
town of Eastport, sitting just on the water's edge, and
ascending therefrom gradually with its few church spires,
lending, that peculiarly pretty effect to a town, especially a
town on the water to which I am so sensitive. I do
not know if others are. Here we stay about an hour,
discharging part of our cargo, and receiving more. Then
we start again, and I can see nothing further to note as we
lose sight of land at both sides for some time, or approach
it only at-a great distance. The steamer is a magnificent
one, the saloon runs the whole length, and is exquisitely fur
nished ; but the crowd is too great. There is hardly room
to move about. I am depressed and lonely after leaving
my St. John friends. We retire at 9 o'clock, so I snatch a
few hours of slumber. \

136 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA," AND SOME OF THE ATHENIANS.
Sept. i$th. — At four o'clock we are awakened by the
noise of a gong and the cry of " Portland." We dress as
hastily and get on shore. The city lies, along the shore a
great length. We see it only dimly in the twilight, but it
looks very important with its numerous wbarves, tokens of
commerce. There is some delay, for the. luggage has to be
examined, as we come from the British provinces. Our
luggage was not examined. They took our word for it. We
hire a " hack," and proceed to our hotel, the " St. Julian,"
a distance of about a quarter of a mile, for which the cab
man charges us two dollars, the first striking indication that
we had got into the States.
We dress and strive to look bright after our voyage and
the shortcomings of Morpheus' visitations, and come down
to breakfast The weather is very warm, and flies are
abundant. We are amused by the circumstance of a wait
ress standing at our table during the meal, with a large fan
brushing off the flies, and cooling us at the same time. I
could not help remarking it was " rather cool."
What are we to do in Portland ? To collect ? I am
opposed to it ; but I press my opposition gently. We
have a . letter of introduction to a Father O'Callaghan,
one of the priests of the place. The Irish population
of Portland is not much, and larger fields are open
before us elsewhere. There is Boston only five hours
journey from us and full of Irish. My wish is to go there.

THE "A THENS OF AMERICA." 1 3 7
But I let tilings work themselves out. We stand at the
hotel door, and resolve to visit the Bishop. Father O'Cal-
laghan lives at the palace and so we will inquire for him
first of all. He may make our access to the Bishop
easy. We reach the episcopal palace, and well worthy
of the name is that magnificent building. We were told
it contained forty bedrooms. The Cathedral is just at hand.
They are both built of red brick, but the interior of each is
simply superb. " Is Father O'Callaghan at home ? " " No,"
replies the servant, " nor will he be at home for days." " Is
the Bishop at home?" "Yes, but he cannot be seen just
now ; if you call at two I guess you can see him then right
off." Despondent and gloomy we retire to our hotel. We
can scarcely admire- the splendour of the streets, for they are
splendid. The first cloud has crossed our horizon and we
are impatient with it.
We call at two and see the Bishop. He is a very gentle
manly middle aged man, with regular round features, a
very good expression, bald head and white hair on his
poll. His dress is that of a layman, shirt and collar,
white socks, and shoes with silk strings, and nothing
indicates his profession save the large ring on the fourth
finger of the right hand. This is Doctor Bacon, first Bishop
of Portland. We announce our mission. He smiles and
shakes his head. " I cannot allow it — in fact, I forbid it,"
he says with decided firmness. He then went into a long
statement of the wants of the American Church and the
burden which lay upon the people everywhere. The Bishops
of America, he said, had resolved peremptorily to refuse all
patronage to beggars. The market was drugged with them.
What claim had we on the people ? "They are Irish, you say;

138 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
then why not keep them at home ; we have the burden of
them ; they are poor, and we -want all their resources to
provide for their spiritual wants." We remained respectfully
silent, and then bowed -ourselves- out. But -we thought it hard
that Bishop -Bacon should have undertaken to answer for all
the bishops of America.
We resolved to leave for Boston immediately. We
see nothing to encourage our staying here. We could
scarcely see an Irish name over any shop. The Catholic
population is only 6,000 and they are poor. We spent
the evening strolling through the streets. The greater
part of this city was burnt three years ago, but it has been
rebuilt on a sumptuous and magnificent scale. The Post
Office, which is nearly completed, is a structure of immense
beauty ; a square edifice, Grecian in style and built of white
polished marble. Throughout Portland there is the unmis
takable Yankee bustle; the genius of the dollar animates the
place, and the Briareus of Commerce moves his hundred
hands. September 16th. — At 3 o'clock this afternoon we leave for
Boston by "the Cars ;" the lower road ; distance in miles ;
time five hours. The country is not good-looking, although
here and there we see some vast meadows and wooded up
lands. The soil, for the most part, is sandy and scarcely an
inch deep. Amongst the underwood in some places we are
struck by the blood-red tint of the leaves of some trees ; the
effect is striking and pretty. On the route are some pretty
towns, such as Biddeford, Kittry and Ipswich. It grew
dark about 6 so we could see no more. We reach the
" Parker House," a magnificent hotel, of which I may say
more as we go on. There is great bustle in the spacious

THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA." 139
hall, occasioned by the constant thronging in and out of
guests. Having made our toilette we entered the drawing-
room, a superb affair, and sit down. The waiters stare at us
and smile, and soon a round half-dozen fresh ones come in
and parade before our table. On enquiring we found out
that I am known to some of them and they come to make^
assurance doubly sure. After tea the head porter, a man
named Barrett, 'addressed me by name. He is from the
parish of Blackrock and was at home two years ago, when
he often heard me preach. He inquires tenderly for Father
James, whom he enthuastically describes as "a great man.''
Another man, a waiter named White, knew me well in Ban-
don, where he was a waiter at Frendi's Hotel, and often
served me a dinner there. A third was from the South
Main Street and left Cork only a few years ago. They were
all delighted to meet us. This was a bit of sunshine amongst
the clouds, but it was only a passing ray. We stroll out and
are astonished at the irregularity of the streets, and their
narrowness, two qualities so uncharacteristic of American
cities. We make arrangements for the morrow and retire
early. September 17th, 1870. — How will Bishop Williams receive
us ? nous verrons. After breakfast a fine carriage and pair is
waiting at the hotel door to convey us to the palace. We
find this was " arranged " by Barrett, the head porter, who
understood our want and provided for it at his own expense
We drive to the Bishop's ; we reach the house — a very
modest unpretentious house ; we enter ; within it is the same
This argues well. At least we shall not meet a Bishop such
as he of Portland. We send up our cards and the Bishop
comes down, in his soutane. He receives us civilly and

140 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
asks us up stairs. I briefly state the object of our mission ;
he listens and then says, " Gentlemen, I can give you no
encouragement ; were I to do so, I should injure our own
charities, which are abundant and pressing enough ; we are,
as you see, building a great Cathedral, it exhausts all our
resources. In a few weeks I shall be- making the annual
appeal for it ; I could not therefore, in decency, make or allow
to be made an appeal for you, but I do not forbid you to
collect as much as you can ; we owe all to the Irish people,
and especially to the people of Cork. I owe them a debt
of gratitude — do> your best. Publish in the Pilot that you
have my permission. What the people give- to you will not
stand in their way when we make our usual appeals to
their charity. I shall give you. a letter certifying that you
have my authority to exercise priestly functions while in
Boston." The cloud begins to disappear.
We next proceed to the office of Mr. Patrick Donahoe,
of the Boston Pilot. I explained our mission, and reported
the Bishop's conversation with us. Mr. Donahoe imme
diately wrote a paragraph for the paper, which was just
being printed, and promised a larger notice in the next
number. He told us it would be well to have a paragraph
also in the Herald. So we went off and followed his advice.
We were determined to lose no time. Wonderful is the
progress of Catholicity in this country. In the year 1810
there was not a single Catholic, much less a Catholic priest
or church, in all New England — a country embracing six
States— viz., Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, Massa-
chussets, Connecticut, and Rhode Island. Now there are
five dioceses in these States. In Boston alone there are
100,000 Catholics and twelve churches, and the professors

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 141
of Catholicity are by a sweeping majority either Irish or the
descendants of Irish, the Catholics of other nationalities
being infinitely few. Ireland has achieved miracles for the
faith in America.
We travel again in the street cars. The Americans talk
much of their respect for women, and in hotels and steam
boats there is an ostentatious display of regard for the sex.
There are ladies' drawing-rooms and ladies' staircases, and
ladies are always accommodated with the first floor. In
large cities special policemen are told off to conduct ladies
across crowded streets, lest they come in contact with horses
or waggons. All very well ; but the Yankees prefer their
own comfort to the display of politeness. This setting aside
of special chambers and special policemen for the conveni
ence of the sex is very pretty, and does not hurt anyone.
But take the street car, for example. A number of gentle
men fill the car ; a lady enters, and in very few instances
will a Yankee rise to offer her a seat. An Irishman will
show this politeness, but the lady does not thank him, and
the Yankee rather despises him. An anecdote I read
on this point is rather amusing. A Yankee is represented
as saying, " The fair sex are entitled to all the attentions
man can bestow upon them. Thus, when a lady enters a
street car, I am shocked to observe the coolness with which
men retain their seats, and permit her to stand all the time.
For my part, when a lady comes into a crowded street car in
my presence, I look around me to see will anyone rise ; I
see, alas ! that no one has the decency to do so. Shame
overcomes me. I bury my face in my newspaper, and blush
for my sex."
In Boston I met many Irishmen well to do, and when I

142 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
asked, to what do you attribute your success in life, such as it
is ? their answer is, I worked hard, and I was a teetotaler. The
drunkard is idle ; he does not respect himself. No one
employs a drunkard, because no employer can depend on
him. One man, a shoemaker, said to me, in his own way,
" I made the first pair of shoes ever I wore. I then began
to make them for others, and from that day to this, thank
God, I never saw the bottom of my purse." This head-
porter, Barrett, said :— " I am nineteen years out here; I
would live in Ireland if I could, but there is nothing for me
to do there. I never possessed a cent in America that I did
not work for. Here is work for all, if they only wish to do
it. I never taste intoxicating drinks. I send money to my
father and friends, .and have more than enough for myself."
Another obstacle to the Irishman's success is, the Yankees
hate him. They regard him, as one made to work. Of
course they see around them every day Irishmen who have
risen, but that does not remove their ingrained prejudice
against the race. Where headwork is necessary they will
not employ an Irishman, if they can help it ; but where they
want labour they will engage Paddy as they would a dray-
horse. If an Irishman achieve any daring deed, they will
not admire his valour or pluck. They call him that wild
Irishman, that madman, or fool ; whereas if an Englishman
or one of themselves accomplished the same, they would
make the world ring with his praises.
Thus, within the last few days a Mr. John Charles Buck
ley has arrived in Boston, after having performed one of the
most astounding feats recorded in the history of navigation.
He left Queenstown in a small craft not much bigger than a
whaleboat, called the " City of Ragusa," accompanied by a

THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA." 143
man and a dog, and steered for America. The voyage
extended to ninety days, at the end of which time he
reached this city, safe and sound, with his human friend,
but deprived by death of his canine companion. He is
exhibiting his boat here, and realizes a good deal by it.
And yet the papers make no flourish about this wonderful
achievement, and the man is not regarded as anything more
than a madcap — he is only " a, wild Irishman ; " whereas if
he had been a John Bull, or a Jonathan, what a cry would
be raised to extol his indomitable- perseverance and his
unflinching courage; Some go so- far as to deny that he
ever performed the voyage. They say he was picked up
with his boat and brought along somewhat in the style of
Darby Doyle in his famous voyage to Quebec. But, never
mind. As I have said elsewhere; our countrymen are-
capable of distinguishing themselves in every department,,
whether for good or evil.. Few will approve of Captain.
Buckley's foolhardiness ; but where- will you find so fool--
hardy a Jonathan or a Bull ? As soon as the gallant Captain'
landed he was interviewed by the Press. A long account,
of his voyage was inserted in the Boston Herald.
It is very hard to form a correct notion as to the advice
which ought to.be tendered to the Irish people wishing to
immigrate here. I make it a point to ask everyone I meet
what is his opinion on the subject, and their invariable
answer is — " Let no Irishman come to this country who can
make a livelihood at home." There is more happiness in
the old country, more sociality, more friendship, more
chance of saving one's soul. Come to America, and you
must work hard, and work without ceasing. In summer the
heat is so killing that you would wish it would kill you out-

144 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.

right, and not mock you with only the phantom of death.
In winter the cold is so bitter that you long for the summer,
with all its calorific terrors. I called to see a young woman,
the sister of my servant, Ellen Colbert. This young woman
left Ireland about three years ago. I remember her then.
She was a fine young, healthy, rosy-faced peasant girl, with
a face like a very ripe peach, such as we see in America.
" Ah," said I to her, " I fear you will lose that fine com
plexion of yours when you shall have crossed the Atlantic."
My words were verified ; I saw her this day. She was pale,
and the perspiration sparkled like dew-drops all over her
face. "Ah, sir," said she, "many a time since have I
thought of your words, that my complexion would fade in
America." " Would you advise your sister Ellen to come to this
country ? "
" No, sir — a thousand times no. If she can live at home
on half a loaf, it is better than to live here upon two loaves.
At home there is some pleasure — here, it is nothing but
work, work, work." I thought of the words of Tennyson :
" Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay ! "
And yet, in conversation with a very respectable and
wealthy man, who left Cork in the year 1843, when he was
nineteen years old, and made a fortune here, I was taught
to reconsider my notions on this subject of emigration —
"Sir," said he, " If it were possible for me to put all the
Irish people into one vessel, I would bring them all over,
and plant them in America. This is the country to live
in — a free country, where labour is prized and rewarded,
and where every man is the equal of his fellow." It is hard
to form a conclusion ; but I write my impressions just as

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 145
they are made, fairly and dispassionately, nothing extenu
ating, nought setting down in malice. They will probably
become more worthy of estimation as I go on.
Sept. 18. — We officiate in St. James' Church, Albany-
street. I go first to Charlestown, and stand under the
monument on Bunker's Hill. A large pyramid of granite
221 feet high and thirty feet square at the base, marks the
scene of the great battle, in which so much of the interests
of America have been involved.
I then go to Cambridge, to see the parish priest, Father
Scully, a Corkman, whom I met at home last February. I
find him in his church, a very beautiful one, and presiding
at catechism, where there are about 1,000 children present
of both sexes. He takes us into his house, is extremely
kind and hospitable, invites us to stay with him while we
remain here. We decline this invitation, because Cam
bridge is "out of town." He opens our subscription list
with a handsome donation, and promises every assistance
in his power. The prospect begins to brighten.
Sept. 19, Monday. — We begin operations to-day by hiring
a carriage, and telling the driver to take us to the principal
Catholic citizens. To be brief, we receive 180 dollars the
first day. On my return to the hotel, I find a card for me,
"John Charles Buckley, Knight ofthe Order of St. Sylvester,
Captain of the City of Ragusa." Accordingly at ten, accom
panied by a friend, the truly gallant captain appears. He
expresses great pleasure at making my acquaintance, and I
very heartily reciprocate the compliment. When he is
seated I sketch him in my mind's eye. He is a man of
ordinary stature, with brown hair, and a very long bright
brown beard, apparently very muscular and healthy, and
L

146 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
¦ notwithstanding his recent exploit, with nothing to indicate
the seaman. His features are not remarkable, but they
express good nature and good temper. There is nothing in
them from which you could imagine that you saw a man
who had voluntarily undertaken and accomplished one of
the most heroic deeds ever performed, since Noah launched
his big ship. Captain Buckley conversed freely on his
wonderful voyage, but with an amount of modesty hard to
conceive. He stayed two hours, and left the most favour
able impressions on my mind.. I have seldom met, in my
sphere of life, and least of all in a sailor, so Christian a
bearing, so thorough an attachment to the old faith,, so
much confidence in Providence (of its kind, for the Captain,
no doubt, tempted Providence most culpably), so much
genuine patriotism. He undertook, the voyage because he
was " doing nothing," and could not bear idleness.
It reminded me of the story of the shoemaker, who was
found to take charge of the Eddystone Lighthouse : when
asked his reason for so doing, he replied that he did'nt like
" confinement," alluding to his workshop at home.
The captain made up his mind " to do something," and
he resolved that should be something novel, startling, and
likely to reflect credit upon Irishmen. He would do some
thing that no man ever did before. The Atlantic had been
crossed in 1866 by a boat called the " Red, White and Blue."
She was 26 feet long — he would cross in a craft of only 20
feet. Fool-hardy the adventure no doubt was, and all his
friends advised him not to try it, but he would do it, and he
felt he would, succeed — it might be tempting Providence,
but he felt assured he. would get across under the protection
of the very Eroviden.ce. he. tempted. The reasoning was not

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 147
very solid but the Captain did not much care for logic. He
had a father, mother and sister ; he told them nothing about
it. He loved peril — he had been volunteer for the Pope,
and fought at Ancona, because he liked the excitement of
the thing. " Was he not afraid ?" " No, he never feared any
thing but God."
He left Cork harbour on. the 16th of June and arrived in
Boston, Sept. 9th. He recounted the whole story, all he
suffered, all his mate, an Austrian sailor, suffered, and the
death of his dog, the worst calamity that, befel him on the
voyage. But nothing, I repeat, struck me more than, the quiet
unassuming manner of the man and his utter want of vanity.
He gave no credit to himself. He only thanked God for
his success. He knew how wrong a. thing it was to venture ;
but he never lost hope, never despaired. Even when on the
coast of Newfoundland a gale raged that caused many wrecks,
he still cherished the strong hope that he would come safe.
He never would attempt the same again : he would learn
wisdom from the past and.strive to be good as well as heroic
henceforth. He called the boat the " City of Ragusa,"
for two reasons — first in compliment to his mate, a Dalmatian
from that city, and secondly because "Ragusa" is the
smallest walled city in the world, and his boat was a structure
of the smallest wooden walls that ever encountered a bom
bardment by the waves. Captain Buckley strove to prove
his relationship to me, but even his voyage was an easier
task than this.
Sept. 20th. — We could find no pilot to conduct us from
house to house, so we had to go by ourselves. We heard
Federal Street was full of Cork people. We went there and

148 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
out of the whole street found scarcely ten people that were
not from some part of Cork City or County ; several I
recognised. ' They were anxiously expecting a visit, for they
had heard I was in America. Anything like the generosity
of these people I never experienced. It was simply romantic.
No ancedote of their kindness can be told, for they were all
equally kind. One house we passed by because we saw the
name " Archamleau," and did not care to call upon any but
Irish. When, however, we had passed the door a woman ran
out and followed us. She called us in and in a very Irish
accent rebuked us for passing. This was Madame Archam
leau, a County Cork woman married to a Frenchman. We
fared well here, for the wife subscribed and insisted on
Monsieur subscribing for himself.
The mosquitoes have fearfully disfigured my hands and
face. I had no notion that they paid their visits so late in
the year. They have made me a special victim. The first
morning I woke in Portland I observed my hands were full
of sores like " hives," and that my forehead had got a great
increase of bumps. I thought it was " summer heat," but
soon found that it was the work of mosquitoes during the
night. The sensation of itchiness is perfectly intolerable.
Those creatures cannot be seen at night, but when I wake I
hear them buzzing about my head, and every morning reveals
new mischief at their hands on mine. I must have patience
with them as with other crosses.
September 2$t/i. At the invitation of Father Scully of
Cambridge, to whom I have already alluded, I preach in
St. Mary's at High Mass. A large and attentive congrega
tion — all Irish. I announce that I am to "go around"
during the week. I do go around, and raise a very respect-

THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA." 149
able sum. The hot weather appears to me to be one of the
most unpleasant things to be encountered in this country.
Now at the end of September, it is simply intolerable. I
sit with Father Scully in his garden : the air is dense, and
there is not a breath of wind. I can do nothing but sit and
perspire and look at my hands all sore with mosquito bites.
At length the sky becomes dark as night, and a fearful
thunder-storm takes place, like those I have already de
scribed in Montreal and Quebec. It rains in oceans, but
after an hour all is dry and warm as before.
The following day in going about from house to house I
go into several rooms where there are stoves. How any
human beings can bear the heat of those stoves in such
weather is to me inconceivable. I cannot go beyond the
door — the rooms are hot as a Turkish bath — and how do
those poor infants live in cradles within a foot of such
furnaces, all wrapped up in warm clothing ? This Cambridge
is a pretty place ; the houses, to be sure, are all of wood,
but they are elegant in style and warm and durable
almost as stone. The damp has little effect on them for the
seasons are nearly always dry. There are little gardens in
front, and the streets are regular, and lined on both sides
with trees — I mean the suburban streets. Indeed, Cambridge
is almost buried in foliage. Yet in some of those houses
live very poor people, all Irish. There is none of that
squalor and filth we see in the old country, but there is
poverty hiding itself in clean rags. On the other hand there
are Irishmen very rich and well-to-do, and a great number
very " comfortable." I enter one house, that of an Irish
man from Clare, named Griffin. A very pretty garden fronts
his house, and all around the house itself are wall-trees, such

150 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
as ivy and other creepers, conspicuous amongst which is the
vine all thick with ripe grapes. Mr. and Mrs. Griffin give
me a hearty welcome, and their drawing-room is as pretty as
anyone could desire. They fetch a large basket containing
fruit, the most delicious pears of their own growth and a huge
cluster of grapes ; they also produce a bottle of their own
wine, made by themselves, and I am glad to taste it so that
I may be able to say that I drank the genuine juice, of the
grape once in my life. This couple were very happy, and
blessed Providence in a truly Christian spirit for the comforts
with which' they had been enriched. Need I say that I
wished them a continuance of such happiness?
Father Scully is beloved by the people, and justly. He
is an excellent priest, and has provided amply for the religious
and educational wants of his flock. His house is very pretty
— white with green blinds outside the windows, and with a
very charming colonnade, Grecian style, forming a piazza all
around, .and separated by 'a lovely garden in which fruit
trees abound. Yet he is happy only on principle. His
heart is in Ireland.
The American priests have no society, they are thrown
completely on themselves, and no consideration reconciles
them to their ostracism but the high obligation of their sacred
duties. The poet, Longfellow, lives at Cambridge. I am most
anxious to see and converse with him, if only for a short
time. I was in the house of Mr. Luby. Said I, "Would
you kindly tell me where does the poet Longfellow live ?
" Longfellow, Father ? Oh, bless you, he is dead this
many a day ! "
"God. help us," thought I, " no man is a prophet in his

THE " A THENS OF AMERICA." 15 1
own country." I endeavoured to persuade Mr. Luby that
he was mistaken, but he could scarcely be convinced. He
appealed to his daughter, who told him that he must be
thinking of Mrs. Longfellow having been burnt to death long
ago ; he began to shake in his opinion,
" Or perhaps," said the daughter, "you are thinking how
his son was married last year."
"Ah! that's just it!" cried the clear-minded Luby,
" that's just it. I knew there was something in it."
My constant intercourse with the Irish gives me abundant
opportunities of studying their character, and the change
wrought in their manners by settlement in this country. One
thing I remark, and that is that they are extremely polite
and courteous. When I knock at a door, it is opened by
the " Lady " of the house, for in all ranks of life men and
women are gentlemen and ladies in America, from the coal-
heaver up to the President. She says, with a very smiling
countenance, " Good morning, sir ; won't you walk in-? "
and she immediately opens the drawing-room door, if there
be a drawing-room ; if not, the door of any other apartment,
places a chair, opens the blinds, and apologizes for any
shortcomings that may appear about the place. She then
opens the conversation on some topic, and discourses with
perfect ease, in many cases with the dignity of a duchess.
When she ascertains the object of my visit, she is not the
least embarrassed, but addresses herself to it with a very
business-like air, and evidently speaks the truth in every
thing. There are very few Irish people who do not pick up the
American accent, and the American form of speech. The
expressions most frequently used are, " I guess," and "right

1 5 2 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
off," or "right away." Some Irish folks who come hither
in their maturer years, never alter their accent or language
in the • least, always excepting the use of " I guess," and
" right away." But young girls in a very short time become
perfect Yankees in speech and accent. I met one whom I
had known at home in a country district, the daughter of a
farm-labourer, eight years ago ; she was now married, was
smartly dressed, and thoroughly Yankeefied — in fact, she
spoke so grandly, that I grew quite ashamed of my Cork
accent in comparison with hers. What she had done with
her own Cork accent I could never imagine.
It is very much to.be deplored that in America the Irish
are extremely " clannish." The Northerns look down on
the Southerns, and both dislike the Connaught-folk, The
" far-downs," i. e., the Northerns, are despised by the
" Corkeys," while the latter are odious to the former in a
similar degree.
All, when spoken to on the subject, admit how baneful
these distinctions are, but all act alike in accordance with
them. What curse is on our people, that dissension must
be the brand of their race at home and abroad ?
Sunday, October 2. — This evening I deliver my lecture
on the Bible to a dense audience. The Church was literally
crammed. Mr. Boyle O'Reilly was present, a young gentle
man of rather chequered career. He had been at one
period of his life a soldier. During the Fenian agitation he
was arrested on suspicion of corrupting the allegiance of his
fellow-soldiers. He was tried by court-martial in Dublin
and sentenced to transportation for life. He was imprisoned
in Millbank, escaped, and was apprehended. He was then
removed to a prison in Chatham, whence he also effected

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA.' 153
his escape. To lessen his chance of eluding his gaolers he
was removed to Australia, but there he was more successful
than ever, for he escaped to some purpose, having by a
variety of adventures found his way to the protection of the
" Star-spangled Banner."* He will give my lecture a favour
able notice in the Pilot.
The president of the United States visited Boston a few
days ago, for the purpose of placing his son at Cambridge
University. He put up at St. James's Hotel. As he came
in a private capacity, his arrival created no sensation. There
was no demonstration of any kind, except a few flags hung
out in some places. There were no salvoes of artillery, and
no addresses from mayors or corporations. The President
was allowed to smoke his Havanna in peace, and he was not
worried by bores, or interviewed by " gentlemen of the
Press." That was a blessing. Well for him he was not a
monarch, such as we have in Europe, or even a monarch's
shadow, he would be grudged the very slumbers demanded
by inexorable nature. That evening the President went to
the "Globe" Theatre, and a large crowd of roughs filled the
streets to catch a sight of " Ulysses," but few enjoyed the
pleasure. On reaching his box a faint clap proclaimed a
welcome, but beyond this gentle demonstration, Democracy
was too proud to venture.
This was a lovely day ; the great heat of the weather has
entirely disappeared, but the sun is still warm and the air
* Sir W. Vernon Harcourt lately, in the House of Commons, alluded
to this gentleman as "the man O'Reilly." There may be, perhaps,
some readers who need to be told that the ex-convict is now one of the
most successful men of letters in the States ; and, what is better, the
author of poems distinguished by a peculiar delicacy and nobility 6f
thought. He is at present editor of the Boston Pilot.

1 5 4 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
balmy. I had arranged to visit Harvard University in com
pany with Mr. Aloysius J. Kane, of the law school, a Roman
Catholic young gentleman, whose acquaintance I had made
at St. John, N.B. He was to meet me at Father Scully's.
True to his appointment he came, and we both walked a
short distance to the University. Cambridge is a large
place, and embraces various divisions, such as Old Cam
bridge, East Cambridge and Cambridge-port. I have stated
elsewhere that the whole place is buried in foliage. The
University is peculiarly so. It consists of a large number
of long red-brick buildings, perhaps five storeys high, all
detached, and about three edifices built of granite, one
polished, viz., the Uriversity Hall — the other two rough ; of
the latter one is called Gore Hall, from the name of him
whom I suppose to have given it an endowment — Christopher
Gore, whose marble bust stands within. It is built in the
style of a Gothic church, and is nothing more or less than
the library, containing 120,000 vols. Between these build
ings are large grass plots intersected by walks running in
various directions. The students have no peculiar costume.
The American idea is opposed to all kinds of insignia,
because they distinguish one man from another and that
would not be democratic. The president's house is within
the grounds. We called, and sent in our cards. After a
short time Mr. President Elliott appeared, quite a young
man. I had seen him a few hours before in one of the
streets, and had passed him without knowing who or what
he was. I told him so, and he said he had seen me too
and was equally at a loss to know who I was. He was very
polite, and volunteered all kinds of assistance in having me
shown through the place, but I did not wish to put him to

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 155
any trouble. I said I called merely that I might do myself
the honour of making the acquaintance of the president of
so great a university. After some desultory and unimportant
conversation, I retired with Mr. Kane. We visited the
various schools. The number of students attending the
university last year was 1,200.
We next proceeded to visit the great American poet,
Henry W. Longfellow, who lives in the immediate neigh
bourhood of the university. This was an honour I was
long ambitious to enjoy ; for in common, I believe, with all
readers, I admire his poems excessively, and I have con
ceived from their perusal a love and esteem of the soul
from which such pure outpourings of thought have flowed,
and assumed forms of rarest dignity aud beauty, at the
magic touch of language. We walked along under the
trees, and saw in an open square a large monument just
erected to commemorate the death on the late battlefields of
America of the soldiers of Cambridge. On the summit of
the monument stands an ideal soldier, leaning on his gun,
and on the slabs beneath are the names of the fallen. Of
these more than one-half are Irish. We walk still further,-
and reach another open space, where is an immense tree
enclosed by railings, outside of which stands a large stone,
with words inscribed as follows : — " Beneath this tree
Washington first took command of the American army,
1772." We find ourselves in Bratle-street, which is not a street
according to our notion — that is, a succession of houses
fronting the public way. It is rather a road, off which are
detached suburban villas. In one of those villas Washington
lived. We see it from the roadside. It is a large, old-

156 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
fashioned house, evidently much the senior of its wooden
neighbours, with grass-plots and flower-beds in front, and a
conservatory at one side. This is the house now occupied
by Longfellow. We knock at the hall-door, and a servant
appears. We send in our cards, and are instantly permitted
to enter. There are two gentlemen in the large room, of
whom one stands writing at a desk, and the other approaches
us. In the features of the latter I recognise those of the
poet, with which the infallible photograph has made me
familiar. He is tall, but not remarkably so, and his head is
the great object of the spectator's regard. A large, well-
shaped head, with very regular features, an expressive
forehead, eyes, I think, blue, a very bushy white beard and
moustache, and long white locks, flowing loosely behind.
His expression is mild and calm, and his demeanour singu
larly modest.
"Sir," I said, " being a stranger in Boston I could not
think of leaving without doing myself the honour and pleasure
of paying my respects to you, the great American poet, and
of thanking you for all the pleasure I have derived from the
perusal of your works."
"Sir," he answered, "you are very kind. I have been
forewarned of your visit by a gentleman from Cork, who
came to see me a few days ago."
In conversing with Mr. Longfellow, he asked me had I
seen the University, and I said I had. I told how I had
seen the President in the morning without knowing who he
was." " Yes," said he, " Nature seldom helps us to discover a
man's rank or genius."
I replied that it was so, and that in his own poem The

THE " A THENS OF AMERICA." 1 5 7
Belfry of Bruges, there were some thoughts expressive ofthe
same idea. I had forgotten the words, but the idea was that
the common wanderer through the streets at night hears the
chimes, and can discover nothing in the sound, while the
poet on hearing them revels in a thousand strange and
delightful fancies.
" Have you been to Bruges ? " he asked.
" Yes, sir," I replied, " I was there last year and I well
remember in my bed at night keeping myself awake that, like
you, I might hear the chimes at the midnight hour, and
conjure up the thoughts with which they inspired you."
I am by nature very averse to flattery. I hate to give or
to receive it : but I could not' resist the temptation to convey
my feelings of affection and admiration for him who sat
before me, the great mind that had moulded such thoughts,
and clothed them in such exquisite language. He dwelt on
the chimes of Bruges with great pleasure and described the
plan on which they are played. He asked me had I heard
the bells of Antwerp, and I replied in the affirmative, adding
that the chimes which pleased me most were those of St
Gertrude's Church at Louvain. These he said he had not
heard I told him how I had lately passed through the now
immortal valley of Grand Pre, the scene of the early part of
Evangeline, which thereupon, I said, I read again for the
fifth time. He told me that though he had written of Grand
Pre he had never seen it. He asked my opinion of it, and I
described it in terms similar to those already contained in
this book. I asked his opinion of the lakes of Killarney,
which, as I saw by the papers, he had visited last year, and
to my astonishment, he told me he had never seen them !
He had seen an account of his travels in Ireland in the

158 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
newspapers which amused him excessively — but although he
was once in Queenstown harbour, he had never put his foot
on Irish ground. After he had addressed a few words to Mr.
Kane, I said, " I have one sister in Ireland, a passionate
admirer of your poems. How delighted she will be to learn
that I have had the honour of an interview with you, and
how she will envy me that honour ! This very morning I
received from her a letter in reply to mine which I sent some
weeks ago, describing my passage through Grand Pre, and
she says that once more she took Evangelme that she might
picture herself on the spot where I had so recently been."
" Your sister," said the poet, "must be very much attached
to her brother. When you write, tell her from me how
grateful I am for her- appreciation of my writings."
Mr. Longfellow then asked me where I was staying. I
said, the Parker House, and after a. few more words, not
wishing to trespass further on his time, I rose to depart. He
accompanied us to the door and shook our hands at parting.
We wefe very much pleased with the simplicity and urbanity
of his manners, and I fully realized by an analogical process
the joyous sensations- of Boswell after his introduction to
Johnson in Mr. Davis's back-room.
Oct. 1 it/i.— The American people with all their shrewdness
seem to be very gullible. There seems to be developed
amongst them a strong taste for candy, bull's eyes, and other
sweet things, but these tastes are only symbolical of their love
for the sugarsticks of praise. I had an opportunity this
evening of witnessing their passion for flattery. Mr. Thomas
Hughes, M.P., the author of Tom Brown's School Days, was
invited to lecture at the Music Hall, and being an English
man and a politician, and above all an author, he was greeted

THE " ATHENS QF AMERICA." 159
with an immense, an overflowing audience. The subject of
his lecture was "John to Jonathan," or in other words,
" What England had to say to America." He had been in the
country for two months and had received most profuse and
cordial hospitality everywhere, but when he mentioned the
name of his country a shadow came over the kind faces.
Now he should set them right in their estimation of the
attitude of England. She had been accused of siding and
sympathising with the Southerns during the late revolutionary
wars. Of- course she was, Mr. Hughes, and.it is strange if
you doubt the allegation — it would be strange if. America
could forget it. But, poor, easily hoaxed, Yankees ! Mr.
Hughes undertakes to prove to you that during the whole
struggle England and the English people were your friends
and sympathisers, and you shout and cry hurrah ! He tells
you, with regard to that Alabama question, England is ready
to settle it,, she only desires to have the matter referred to
arbitration and she will abide by the. result In fact that
Jonathan has only to present his little bill and it will instantly
be paid.* And then Mr. Hughes becomes lachrymose. He
contemplated the possibility of England veering to hankr
ruptcy and seeking among the Nations for a rescuer.
" And," said he, " if the strong old islanders, who after all
are your own fathers LI I" (Where is the paternity of Ger
many, and of Ireland ?) " should happen some day to want "
(Here Mr. Hughes' voice faltered with emotion and the
audience burst forth in sympathetic applause) " a name on
the back of one of those bills, I for one should not wonder if
* Plainly Mr. Hughes' reading of the situation was the right one here.
And it may be said, too, that while the English governing classes and
their organs were Southern, the English Democracy, even including the
Lancashire cotton-spinners, sympathised .strongly with the North.

160 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
the name of Jonathan is found scrawled across there in very
decided characters." " Hurrah ! hurrah ! " shouts Yankee-
dom, " hurrah ! hurrah ! " Mr. Hughes was successful, he
offered Jonathan a sugar-plum and Jonathan swallowed it
with the gusto of a child. The most distinguished citizens
were present and some remarkable strangers. The poet
Longfellow was conspicuous in his chosen obscurity by his
copious white hair, and loud cries for Sumner after the lecture
indicated the presence of that popular statesman.
Such, also, was the character of the American's mind in
relation to Charles Dickens in his American Notes. He
said some hard things of Jonathan, and Jonathan was very
angry— but years rolled by and the great novelist came and
made the amende. He was sorry for what he had said, he
was mistaken and all that ; and the Yankees forgave him.
They went further, .they took to worshipping him, and when
he died the event caused a far greater sensation in America
than in England. The pulpits rang with his praises— the
morality of his life and writings was held up to admiration,
and in America, the ridiculed of Boz— the repentent lecturer
found at last his apotheosis.
Pulpits ! alas for the pulpits. Read one of Monday
morning's New York papers, where all the sermons of all
the churches preached the previous day are summarized,
and what a medley! I take up by chance last Monday's, the
" leader " on the sermons sufficiently explains their variety
of characters, and I shall merely quote it word for word : —
" There was a marked increase in the number of attendance
at church yesterday. Every place of worship was crowded.
Resplendent fashion, having temporarily retired from Paris,
shone in all her original grandeur, until it became a difficult

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 161
matter to say whether the dresses or the sermons were the
best, both, in some of the churches, being the last sensation.
The Rev. Mr. Hepworth, at the church of the Messiah,
delivered his third lecture on ' The Moral Aspect of
Europe,' in which he gave Napoleon some very hard raps ;
on the other hand, Father Ronay, a French missionary, in
a most eloquent sermon at the church of St. Louis, in Wil
liamsburg, praised the emperor highly, and predicted his
early restoration to the throne. His picture of the sufferings
of France was quite touching, and affected his congregation
to tears.
"Dr. Dix, at Trinity, declared that the crowning sin of
Rome was in proclaiming an enthroned God, and said
many hard things of the Catholic Church. There are, how
ever, two sides to every question ; and, consequently, those
who do not agree with the anti-popery doctrines of Dr. Dix
can read our reports of sermons of the Catholic churches —
where the recent misfortunes ofthe Holy Father were made
the subject of much eloquent argument, and where infalli
bility, and all other dogmas of Catholicism, were explained
and extolled. We would, however, suggest that there might
be good policy in reading but one side of the question, lest
a perusal of both may end in the believing of neither.
" Sermons of a more general nature, and in some respects
more instructive, were delivered at the other churches.
Brother Beecher was particularly pathetic on the subject of
the woman with seven husbands, and the future life. And
well he might ! We should think that the contemplation of
such a domestic arrangement, even in the future life, would
incline one to pathos and even anxiety. At Lyric Hall
Mr. Frothingham took piety for his theme, and administered M

162 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
a severe rebuke to cant. He seemed to have a tolerably
clear idea of what piety is, and he thought that it was not
displayed by mankind exactly as he believed to be right and
proper. " At the New England Congregational Church Rev. Mr.
Richardson discoursed on the renovating power of Chris
tianity ; while at the Elm-place Congregational Church,
in Brooklyn, the kingdom of heaven was the theme. In
the same city, at the Grand-street Methodist Church Rev.
Mr. Hendricks gave the young ladies some sound advice on
subjects matrimonial, and a few hints on the same to hus
bands expectant. ' Though he may have a boundless
fortune,' he said to the fair maidens, ' Will you marry a
man who will bring upon you not only poverty but dis
grace ? ' How a man with a boundless fortune can bring
poverty upon his wife we cannot imagine."
Oct. 12 — This is. the anniversary of the discovery of
America by Christopher Columbus, and the Italian residents
of Boston have celebrated the event with due eclat At
9 o'clock, a.m., a procession of Italians, numbering a hun
dred, with a band and a banner — the latter representing the
landing of Columbus at San Salvador — proceeded through
the principal streets, and stopped at the City Hall, where
they paid their respects to the mayor, and made him a
suitable address. His honor replied appropriately. Will I
be accused of hypercriticism if I comment unfavourably
upon one passage of his honor's speech, or rather upon a
quotation from an American poet, which he adopted.
" If I could have my say," said his honor, " I would give
your illustrious, countryman his true deserts, and call our
beloved country by its real name — Columbia. I think we

THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA." 163
could all exclaim in harmonious feelings, in the language of
Barlow, the Yankee poet : —
" Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,
The queen of the world and the child of the skies."
I only ask, what is the meaning of saying that Columbia is
the " child of the skies ? " Were she called " child of the
ocean," there would be sufficient vraisemblance in the idea
to divest the hearers from too rigid an examination of the
words ; but " child of the skies " is too absurd, too incon
ceivable, or, if conceivable, too prosaic to awaken a poetic
sensation. The idea of America, a large continent, falling
from the boundless skies, and settling in an ocean small in
comparison to the firmament, is an anticlimax annihilative
of all poetry.
There was a good deal of cannonading in Boston Com
mon commemorative of the great event, and festivities and
convivialities crowned the joyous celebration.
Oct. 13th. — We had a letter of introduction to the cele
brated comedian, Mr. Barney Williams. This gentleman
lives in New York, and while we were there we made inquiries
and found that he was staying at Bath — a fashionable water
ing-place, on Long Island — consequently we did not call,
resolving to do so at some future time when it would be more
convenient. This week Mr. B. Williams and his lady are
performing at the Boston Theatre and staying at the St.
James Hotel. We called and Mr. Williams returned the
visit. He appointed this day to call on us, and drive us in
his carriage around the suburbs. He kept his word. At
1 1 o'clock he called in a magnificent landau Che is famous
for his carriages) and a pair of splendid horses — the day was
beautiful and we had a very charming ride. He is an

164 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
interesting man, small in stature, with a handsome face, a
bright intelligent eye and a rather fashionable style of dress.
He is Irish Catholic and a native of Cork, where he was born,
June 4th, 1826. His father, he told us was a man named
Barney Flaherty, a full colour sergeant in the British Army.
His name of Williams is assumed. His wife is a convert,
an American lady, and a very staunch papist. He and she
have made thirteen converts since they were married. He
is a great lover of Ireland — they have grown very wealthy
by their talents and much good may it do them.
Mr. Williams discoursed a good deal about the Irish in
America, and his points, put very briefly, were these : — The
Irish are matchless for brain-work, and handiwork. He
instanced the making of the Erie Canal, one of the grandest
pieces of engineering ever seen in the world as a proof of his
statement on the subject of Irish talent. It was designed by
an Irishman, and made by Irishmen. It is 500 miles long,
and is cut through mountains and rocks, in many places at
great length and difficulty. The Irish are kept in big cities
by cunning politicians who wish to have their votes in elec
tion times. The unfortunate creatures receive no encourage
ment to go West where land may be had for nothing ; but
are crammed like " Sardines in a box," in tenement houses,
in New York and elsewhere. They are honest in every sphere
of life, except when they become politicians. The Yankees
prefer an Irish servant to all others— Irish servant girls are
saucy and hard to put up — but it is better to bear sauciness
than to be robbed. And Yankees insist on them going to
confession at certain times. They justly regard confession
as a great check of crime, and the safe-guard of conscience.
Mr. Williams has been in almost every hotel in America,

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." ' 165
and he could not remember a single instance where the night
watchman was not an Irishman and a Catholic. To no other
would they entrust the awful responsibility of life and pro
perty, which could be so sadly jeopardised at the dead hour
of night by collusion between the watchman and. a burglar.
He fully concurred in all that had been said of the Irishman's
attachment to the old faith, and witnessed all that have been
done in America for its sake of late years ; and he justly
observed that the preservation of that faith, under so many
trials, was one grand proof of its being divine.
On Sunday, Oct. 17th, a great celebration took place here,
the laying of the corner-stone of a New Home for Destitute
children. It was altogether a Catholic affair. The funds for
the erection ofthe building are the voluntary offerings ofthe
Catholic people, and the thirty thousand persons who were;
present belonged, to the old faith. It was a great event in
this city, once the strong-hold of Puritanism. The day was
beautiful, and so- warm that many butterflies were abroad?
All the Catholic societies and confraternities, and school
children of both sexes, marched in procession arrayed in the
various costumes indicative of their orders, through the chief
streets of , the city, with banners but without bands. On the
ground two platforms- were erected, on one of which the
societies, &c, took their places. A band performed, here, and
some concerted pieces of sacred music . were well sung by
the children. On the other platform, the Bishop and clergy
took their places, and the ceremonial usual on such occasions
was proceeded with. A sermon was preached by Bishop
O'Reilly, the newly consecrated bishop of the new See. of
Springfield, Mass. The great point of the whole ceremony
was the means it afforded the Catholics, that is the Irish, of

166 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
showing their power, and they showed it to some purpose.
Great order prevailed and the whole spectacle contrasted in
every respect to my mind very favourably with similar dis
plays in the " old country."
Mr. Patrick Donahoe of the Boston Pilot, is the chief
promoter and largest subscriber to the New Home, and he
took, as far as a layman could, a very prominent part in the
ceremony. When it was over a large number of carriages were
ready to convey the clergy and some laymen to Mr.
Donahoe's house, where supper was prepared ; we were
amongst the invited guests, and a carriage was placed at our
disposal. The Bishop (Williams) was as usual extremely
courteous and introduced us to the other Bishop (O'Reilly).
Before supper we all assembled in the drawingroom, supper
came off and was something novel to me; two black servants
helped us. No one sat down, not even the Bishops. All
stood and were helped from the table. There was nothing
like a general blending of sentiment or conversation, the
meal was consumed in a business-like fashion and did not
occupy a very long time, not half an hour ; after which all
adjourned to another room where cigars were provided, of
which almost all partook.
Bishop Williams is an excellent man ; his dress on this
occasion was simply that of an ordinary gentleman, there was
about him no vestige of the priest, much less the bishop, and
as he is a very handsome man, and personal beauty is a rare
thing in gentlemen of our profession, the thought of his
being a clergyman could enter no one's mind.
Oct. 27,rd, Sunday. — I deliver my lecture on the History
of Irish Music this evening in the Boston Theatre. Mr.
Barney Williams says this is one of the finest theatres in the

THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA." 167
world. My lecture was a great success, an audience of
about 2,500 were present, and considering I was a "new
hand" it was very patronizing. I was introduced to the
Honourable P. A. Collins, a young gentleman of very great
promise in Boston ; he is among the chiefs of what is called
the "Young Democracy," a very clever person only 26 years
of age, yet already a senator, a native of Fermoy, County
of Cork, but living here since his infancy ; he is only a law
student, and yet there are few men more respected jn the
city. Immediately after the lecture Judge Russell, a gentleman
of great respectability in Boston, now collector of customs,
waited on me in the green room, and in very choice language
congratulated me on my success. He said he was anxious
to testify in some manner his admiration, and the only thing
he could do was to ask me to proceed with him the following
afternoon on board the revenue cutter, when he would show
me the harbour, and take me on board the " School Ship."
This latter is, as it were, a floating reformatory for boys who
have violated the law ; they are placed on board this ship,
educated in the Naval art, and learn to become sailors in
the marine of the United States.
I accepted the Judge's invitation, and the following day
(Oct. 24th), as was duly recorded in the papers the day after,
I proceeded on board the revenue cutter with the Judge,
his wife and family. The afternoon was lovely, the scenery
pretty, and all passed off very pleasantly. We went on
board the school-ship and the boys were put through their
various exercises for my entertainment. They "boxed
the compass," sang Naval Songs, performed Gymnastic's,
showed their skill in Geography ; and, in a word, went through

1 68 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
a synopsis of a sailor's theoretical duty. The Judge
suggested to me that I might deliver a short address. I
complied. I assured them how grateful I was to Judge
Russell for the honour he had done me, in bringing me
amongst them, that I was delighted with the- exhibition
which I just witnessed of their proficiency in the Naval Art,
and that I had no doubt they would hereafter make brave
sailors under the banner of the United States, the greatest
country in the whole world. I reminded them of their duty
to their country, but reminded them also of the still higher
duty which they owed to God. They were mostly all Irish,
and I trusted they never would disgrace the country of their
ancestors, but would be to the end, brave sailors and devoted
Christians. The Judge and suite, including me, then went
on board the cutter for the purpose of leaving. Meanwhile
the boatswain's whistle sounded, the boys formed on deck
and in an instant manned the yards — the effect was very
pretty. " I suppose," I remarked to Judge Russell, " that is a
part of their daily drill."
"Not at all," replied tlie Judge, ""this is intended for
you — they wish to give you a parting cheer."
And, accordingly, as we moved off the boys set up a
hearty cheer, which, as the papers say, was again and again
repeated. I was very much pleased with the compliment
thus, paid me.
Curious coincidence; The evening I was at M. Tarbell's
that gentlemen showed me the family album containing
photographs of the celebrities of the day, especially
American celebrities. Amongst the latter the generals of the
late war were conspicuous. "You miss the photograph of

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 169
General Lee," said Mr. Tarbell; "I am sorry I have not
got it. He is a man I admire very much, and his personal
appearance is as magnificent as his manners are gentle and
amiable. You will, doubtless,, see him as you. go down
South. Call upon- him, and you may be sure of a cordial
reception." The papers next morning all over America
contained telegrams ofthe "death of General Lee" on the
previous day. The event occurred almost at the moment
Mr. Tarbell was addressing me..
Another remarkable coincidence ofthe same kind occurred
the day before my lecture. After tracing the history of the
Irish Bards from the earliest ages down to the present, it
was my intention to pay a tribute of admiration to the dis
tinguished Irish composer Balfe in some such words as the
following : — " At the present day Balfe sustains the honour
of Ireland in the field of music, &c." But on taking up the
paper that morning I read the death of Michael William
Balfe, the Irish composer, at his residence in England the
day before. In my lecture I had to substitute the past for
the present tense. Here are two remarkable instances of
the uncertainty of human life.
As a rule, I find amongst those whom I meet very little
education of a high order. Perhaps I do not meet the
educated classes ; but there is an impression on my mind
that even the clever men of America are not very well read,
and that amongst them English literature is at a large dis
count, and a knowledge of languages as rare as a knowledge
of hieroglyphics. In America the great ambition is to be
rich, and for the acquisition of riches much book education
is not necessary. Boys are " put to business " when very
young, and it is no rare thing to see them employed at

170 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
occupations which seem to demand not only brains but
large experience. They grow fast here. Our boys at home
spend years at Latin and Greek, and other years in forget
ting those languages, while the lads of America are hard at
work piling up dollars. In England and Ireland, and
indeed most countries of the Old World, the great ambition
of young men is to shine in the intellectual arena. Hence,
they seek in crowds the Bar, the Pulpit, the Senate, or, failing
those high aims, they are content with some profession
where intellect is required, such as Medicine. They study
the languages and music, and are most eager to acquire a
reputation for literary culture. Not so here. He is the
most esteemed in this country who makes the most money,
and the only intellectual power admired here is that by
which some new scheme is invented for the easier acquisi
tion of wealth.
But every day I spend in this country the more do I
admire the democratic character of the people, the apparent
equality of intercourse that exists between them, and the
more absurd appears to me the aristocratic spirit at home,
the lines of demarcation between the different ranks of
society, and the cringing respect with which those of the
lower rungs of the social ladder regard those above them.
Somehow here in personal appearance there does not seem
to be much difference between man and man. You have a
colonel who gained distinction in the wars now keeping a
beer-shop, and serving the customers from behind the
counter in his shirt-sleeves ; majors and captains occupy
positions of the same social respectability.
And by the way, that word respectability seems to be
unknown here. It implies gradation, and there is no grada-

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA}' 171
tion amongst a free and equal people. Their Military men
have no martial air to distinguish them, where as in England
and Ireland, the air Militaire is unmistakable. At some
public gathering one evening in the Music Hall here, a friend
of mine was pointing out the remarkable men to me. While
he was doing so, I saw a man (I could not say a " gentleman")
enter with some ladies. His whole bearing, and dress, and
features, especially an intense stupidity of expression, all
forced me to the conclusion that he was a peasant and no
more. No, sir, that is Colonel of the Montgomery Guards —
one of the most brilliant officers of the late war. " God
bless us ! " I cried, " to what a depth has colonelcy
descended ! "
Another day, while I was at dinner in the Parker House,
the waiter whispered in my ear :
"A General has just come in, and is sitting at a table
below!" I turned round in the direction indicated, and saw only a
waiter standing. I said facetiously, " Is it that man with
the white apron ? "
" No," replied my waiter, " he does not wear a white
apron, although he often appears in the White House ! "
I was pleased with the waiter's humour, and then viewed
the General at my leisure, a mighty plain, ungeneral-like man-
" And," said I to the waiter, " has the general ever distin
guished himself by any feat worthy of historical record ! "
" Oh yes," he replied, " the general made very good use of
his feet on one occasion ! "
". How."
" Why he skedaddled at Bull Run."
You seldom see a man in America of what we call distingue

1 7 2 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
appearance, then you very seldom meet with a man poorly
dressed, or if you do, he is a labourer and labour is respected.
Nothing is so common as to see men of great wealth shak
ing hands and familiarly conversing with what we call
menials, such as servants in hotels. The waiters while they
stand at your table converse freely with you, and never con
descend to say "Sir." But there is nothing offensive in all
this ; they have helped you-, and they are paid for it — you help
yourself and you pay for it; the balance, you see, lies against
you. A man may make "tall piles" and yet retain his
humble position. There are waiters in this hotel who own
real estate, and yet they. go on making fresh "piles." The
master of the house must take care to handle them gently,
they would take none of his dictation, they would not stand
being " bossed." A servant, especially a female servant, will
not allow herself to be called, by that degrading name. If
you ask her what business she is at, her answer is that she
"-lives out," and if you ask her does she mean that she is a
servant, she replies, " No," she is a " help."
One day I was going in a horse-car when a very pretty
and elegant young lady entered and sat not far from me. The
journey continued a good while, and people got in and out
as we went along. At length when very few remained the
conductor, a young man, like one who would drive a hack at
home, entered, shook hands with the young lady and sat
down by her. She was delighted to see him, and they soon
became very chatty and confidential. For aught I knew this
conductor might have been a young man of great wealth,
and even social position. There was nothing degrading in
being conductor to a horse-car, and he may have retained
the office from choice, or to prevent himself getting rusty.

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 173
All I knew was that in Ireland, or England, the immense
barrier between an omnibus conductor and a fashionable
young lady would not have been so coolly and unblushingly
broken down.
Every one in America is a " gentleman," or " lady."
The man who cleans your boots, and the "cabby" who
drives you are " gentlemen," your very chamber-maid is
designated " the lady." You may shake hands with them all,
they expect it, and it is no social degradation. They live by
honest labour, so do you it is hoped. You may have more
money ; but there are people too who have more money than
you ; poverty is no crime, though it is extremely inconvenient.
********* Soon after my lecture I became so ill with rheumatism
and other maladies that I was confined to my room for a
week. At the end of that time the Pilot did me the honor
of noticing the fact. A good deal of inconvenience was
caused to myself, and some to other parties, by the an
nouncement. When I was quite well, people who had
only just seen the Pilot flocked to know how I was. With
my friend, Captain Buckley, of the " City of Ragusa," the
story took the course once pursued by the three black
crows — when the rumour reached him it told him / was
dead ! He telegraphed; I received the missive in bed one
morning at 1^ o'clock, but was so vexed for being roused
out of sleep, with the silly query whether I was dead or
alive, that I deferred my answer till morning; but when
morning came, I found that the captain had not sent any
more definite address than " Providence." I thought this
too vague, and did not reply at all. That night the captain
turned up, "all dressed from top to toe" — got up especially

1 74 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
by some Providential modiste, that he might present a
decent appearance at my funeral. My silence was con
strued by him into an admission that I was done for. On
his arrival he learned that I was spending the evening with
Mr. Patrick Donahoe. I dare say he was disappointed ; but
on my return from Mr. Donahoe's I met him, and although
there was a considerable manifestation of spirits on the
occasion, he saw very little of the grave about me.
He accompanied me the following day to Lowell, a large
manufacturing town, about twenty miles from Boston.
Here I got a very poor reception from one of the pastors of
the place ; he was almost offensive ; he would afford me no
assistance towards prosecuting my mission in Lowell — none
whatever. I then asked him for information. I said I was
anxious to deliver a lecture in Lowell, and enquired if there
was a Hall in the town where I might deliver it. He
answered that there was.
" Is it a large one ? " I asked.
"You will find it large enough for you," was the reply.
I never before encountered so ungracious a person as this
old specimen. He is unique, but I forgive him. The other
pastor, a Rev. Mr. Crudder, was not at home. I sought
the Hall; it was engaged every evening up to the nth of
December. I came home to Boston, disappointed and
chagrined. The great singer, Christina Nillson, has arrived in Boston,
and has been serenaded outside her hotel, the "Revere
House," by the Bostonian " Scandinavians." Her pay is
pretty handsome — 1,000 dollars per night. I do not know
shall I go to hear her ; I am indifferent.
During my convalescence I sometimes strolled through

THE " A THENS OF AMERICA." 1 7 5
the Boston Common, a very excellent park in the centre of
the city, but small. Here is a very fine old tree, railed in.
An inscription on the railing informs us that it was in full
bloom in 1722, began to show signs of decay in 1792, and
was subsequently shattered by a storm. It is swathed in
canvas, to keep out the rain from its incisions. It looks
like an old man with a diseased leg.
Boston is a very fine city, very large, with a number of
suburban towns, which are so connected with it as to form
a great whole. It is quite a flat, with the exception of one
considerable elevation,, on which is the "State House," a
very fine building, overlooking the common aforesaid. The
State House, from its great height and lofty situation, com
mands a magnificent view ofthe whole city ; and its cupola
is seldom seen without some half-dozen persons, generally
tourists, admiring the view from so favourable a point. The
city is remarkably clean, and there is an air of elegance and
substantial comfort about it. The streets are very irregular,
and in some places inconveniently narrow. They were
evidently built at a time when no seer could prophesy the
subsequent magnitude of the city. One may very easily
lose his way in Boston, so sinuous are the streets. Public
buildings are few, and not of remarkable beauty, if we
except the State House, the City Hall, and a few others.
The hotels, especially the Parker House, are fine buildings.
The churches, with one or two exceptions, are nothing to
speak of. There are in some streets magnificent " blocks "
of commercial houses, tokens of great industry and wealth.
I doubt if any city can present so fine a pile of public
building of its kind as the " State-street Block " of Boston,
an immense range of solid granite buildings, of uniform

176 DIARY OF A TOUR' IN AMERICA.
dimensions, welded together, and forming one massive
square. The suburbs of Boston are very much admired, and
justly, although the people, I think, exaggerate their
beauty. Some streets have been widened by pushing back
one whole side. This appears strange to us, but it is quite
common here. A plan of machinery is arranged, by which
a house, no matter of what dimensions, is moved from its
place to any distance the operator pleases. The Boylston
Market, weighing 30,000 tons, was moved back twenty feet
a short time before I came to Boston, and the business of
the market was never for a moment disturbed.
Boston is called the " Hub of the Universe," or, briefly
and familiarly, " The Hub." It would appear that "hub"
is the name of that portion of a wheel from which the spokes
radiate ; and the Bostonians are of opinion that from their
city, the "hub," as they call it, the spokes of intellect and
general moral influence radiate to the whole world. No
very modest assumption, to be sure ; but who does not
forgive that vanity by which men love the place of their
birth ? At home we, Corkonians, call our city " the Athens
of Ireland." I find that the people of Boston call theirs
the " Athens of America ; " and when I was about to
deliver my late lecture, the Hon. P. A. Collins, the gentle
man who introduced me, made a point of this circumstance.
He begged to introduce to the "Athens of America," a
gentleman who hailed from the " Athens of Ireland."
The people of America are wonderfully lecture loving.
There is scarcely a night of the year (except in summer
weather) when some lecture is not delivered in Boston. I
saw by one of the papers that a Miss Anna Dickinson " is

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 177
engaged to lecture every night for an indefinite period."
How I envy the lady her ocean of knowledge, with such
multitudinous outlets ! They enjoy a lecture here as people
elsewhere enjoy the theatre. It is an elegant taste, and, I
am sure, productive of good.
The people of Boston are quiet and respectable. There
is no rowdyism here. You never see anything sensational
in the streets ; and such crimes as burglary and other out
rages are extremely rare. The ladies dress very quietly,
and are generally good-looking ; and altogether there is
about Boston an air of propriety, and decency, and quiet,
hard to be conceived when one considers the general depra
vity of human nature in big cities.
Fechter, the celebrated actor, is playing here for some
months back. I went to see him in " Hamlet." I have
not much experience of the stage, but I was greatly im
pressed by his acting. I think, however, the secret of my
pleasure was not the power of his acting, but the master-
genius of the great mind that composed the immortal
drama. The " Ghost " was admirable. During his long
narrative of the manner in which his murder was accom
plished I was positively transfixed. Fechter was " Hamlet,"
and did it beautifully. A few days after the performance, I
was standing in the hall of the Parker House, when I
remarked a group of three persons speaking together.
" That is General Banks," I asked of a gentleman standing
by. " Yes," he replied, " and that gentleman opposite him is
Fechter, the actor." I should never have recognised him.
Have you ever suffered from boredom — I mean on a
large scale ? I don't ask you whether you have endured N

1 7 8 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
the torture for an hour or two, or once in a week, or so —
but has anyone ever laid himself out to be your special and
irrepressible bore ? Not that he meant to bore you — on the
contrary, he might have been the best-natured man in the
world. But has he ever, with the best intention, watched,
pursued, caught, and sat upon you, day after day, night
after night, as if you were his property, and he would not
part with you,?- No; well,. I have been the victim of this
horrible torture ever since I came to Boston. I have
alluded, though not by name, to a certain young man,
whom I will call Tornkyns. He is my bore.. I was not two
days in Boston when he introduced himself into my room
as one who knew me well in Cork — knew me very well, and
for a long time, and was surprised that I did not recollect
him. He is a young man, about thirty years of age, with
moustache and whiskers, a broad forehead, a very flat
accent, and. an endless jabber of unmeaning talk. He
stands very erect, is bold and confident, although uncon
scious that he is obtrusive, with a great deal of good nature
and affection, but the affection of a spaniel. Of course I
was very civil to him the first night, and invited him again.
He came again, and again. He took a great interest in all
my doings ; always, wished to know my programme of action ;
brought a good deal of chit-chat of matters in town ; an
occasional cockpapet, a cheap novel — anything to amuse.
The evening was his time for coming — he was then free
from business. A smart knock announced his arrival. He
entered, tall, bold, smiling, and laid down his hat, as one
who was privileged to stay, without ceremony. He usually
smoked a cigar on his arrival, and kept smoking it to the
end.

THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA." 179
This went on night after night, and my friend's confidence
in himself, and his easy conduct towards me, went on
increasing. I began to see that he came because he thought
it gave me pleasure. I was lonely, he thought, and I wanted
company. He had stories of his interviews with Longfellow
and with other celebrities. He was influential with the
Boston Press, and got a few notices of me in the papers.
His conception of humour was peculiar, because he told
anecdotes without point,, and laughed most where the point
was conspicuous by its absence. Every evening he was
particular to ascertain what I was to do next day, next
Sunday, next week.. He was always bringing some person
to introduce to me, and sometimes- he would leave a note
stating that he would come at such an hour, to introduce
Mr. Such-a-one. He and his friends frequently stayed until
midnight, when I was obliged to present striking symptoms
of weariness. Tales came back, to me of Mr. Tomkyns'
discourses concerning me. He told his friends how "thick"
he and I were, and how I could do nothing without him —
how I had him in my room every evening, "private and
confidential," and soforth. It sometimes happened that a
friend would look in on me in the evening, and, of course,
find Tomkyns. I found that I had let him go too far. He
came more and more frequently, and earlier than usual.
Thus my evenings were being frittered away, and I received
nothing in return, I could not read or write, or be alone,
or enjoy another's company. He had taken possession of
me ; I was not my own master— not master of my room,
my time or my actions. I saw myself reduced to the con
dition of a slave, an automaton — all because I had not the
moral courage to shake off the incubus. If I came in of an

1 80 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
evening he was waiting for me ; if I happened to be in the
dining-room, dining or taking tea, he was at my side ; and,
-after the meal, I would adjourn to my room, led irresistibly
by my bore, to be bored for the fortieth time, as before.
It so happened that I spent some consecutive evenings
out with friends, and the feeling that I was freed, even for a
short time, from my evil genius, gave new zest to my enjoy
ment. But every evening on my arrival home I heard that
Mr. Tomkyns had called, and said he " would call again
to-morrow evening." But when several to-morrow evenings
came and he was disappointed, I fancied I was free. Alas !
for my ignorance of what a bore can do. One morning, at
eight o'clock, there was a knock at my door. I was in bed,
got out and opened it. There was Tomkyns ! Why, what
had become of me — where had I been all the evenings —
was I to be out again this evening, and where ? He had a
great deal to say, after the silence of several days, and he
said it while I listened, wishing that some unseen power
would take him from my sight to some region where I should
never see him more. These morning visits were repeated,
until at length he came morning and evening the same day,
and I felt like one possessed by the demon, and gone
beyond the power of exorcism. 1 would stand it no longer.
It had now lasted for two months. I should stay in Boston
one month more, and I would not allow myself to be
victimised any longer.
November \j,th. — I determined to take my stand, once for
all, against my implacable tyrant. My spirit was sore, and
I should burst if this slavery continued. I went out to
Watertown, a village some ten miles from Boston, preached,
and made a collection of 284 dollars. I dined with the

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 181
pastor, and returned to town. I expected to reach the
hotel about six, and asked myself what should I do in the
possible contingency of meeting my bore. I could not
answer the question; but one thing I resolved, and that
was, that he should not spend that evening in my room.
I entered the hotel, and the first man I met was Tomkyns,
radiant in beard and whiskers, and white waistcoat. He
looked as if he meant to say "what kept you so long, here
am I waiting for you for the last half hour ? " I heard
the first clank of the chain ; but I did not succumb. I
determined to initiate no conversation, I would let him
begin — let him propose questions, and I would answer.
" But," I said, " I was going to have tea." " All right," he
said, " I will sit with you while you take it," and he sat by
me picking his teeth with a wooden tooth-pick, and proposing
questions out of his wooden head.
Tea at length was over, and he accompanied me to the
hall, where groups of loungers stood chatting. He evidently
expected to be asked upstairs, but his surprise and disap
pointment were great when I asked him to help me on with
my outside coat.
" Not going upstairs ? " he said.
"No," I replied.
" Then let us have a walk on the common ?"
"No," I said.
" What do you mean to do then ? " he asked.
" I mean to stand here," was my answer. He could not
understand ; but he obeyed. I stood and was silent. He
could not divine what had happened. Things went thus for
full three quarters of an hour, when I concluded that he
would stop there all night, if he were allowed ; and the cure

1 82 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
would be even worse than the disease. At the end of that
time I took his hand abruptly. " Good night old fellow," I
cried, "good night, I have some writing to do, goodnight!"
and I rushed from him upstairs, I locked my door, I was
free from my bore, at least for this night, and piously hoped
it might be for ever.
Monday came and went and I did not see my bore, but I
left town at 4J p.m. to dine and sleep at the house of a friend
at Jamaica Plain ; Tuesday I returned. That evening I
went to see Hamlet. On Wednesday morning there was a
knock at my bed-room door; I was dressing. "Come in," I
cried, and Tomkyns came in, fresh and smiling as a daisy.
He had been in the two previous evenings and could get no
tidings of me. I find I am dealing with a piece of human
granite. He brought me books to amuse me, and made the
usual queries about my past and future engagements. Now
I don't know what to do. Thursday I went to Providence
and returned late. It is now Friday evening, 6 o'clock, and
I tremble every moment lest I should hear his foot-fall at
my door.
On the 8th of November the elections take place all over
the United States, the elections to all municipal and senatorial
offices. In Boston it passed off very quietly, so quietly
indeed that the-very day could not be distinguished from any
that went before it. On the evening preceding the election
I had an opportunity of hearing Mr. Wendell Phillips speak
in public. He is considered one of the best if not the very
best public speaker in the States. He is very popular also,
and was running for the office of Governor of Massachusetts.
His war-cry is " Labor and Reform " and " Prohibition,"
viz., of intoxicating drinks. A large meeting took place in

THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA." 18

o

the Tremont Temple. There was no charge for admission,
and one would naturally think that on the eve of a political
election some excitement would be natural. There was
none. The people sat quietly and orderly. When Mr.
Phillips appeared there were three good cheers, but then all
was quiet.
He is a graceful, quiet, elegant speaker, by no means
passionate, but rather seeking to convince by argument than
by rhetoric. His diction is admirable, he is one of those'
speakers of whom it is said they " speak like a book." In
the election, however, the following day he was defeated.
Strange about this Liquor Law, no man is allowed to have
a license for the sale of liquors in this State, and yet the law
is allowed to be violated by hundreds every day. Sometimes
the police pounce on some obnoxious liquor-seller, and seize
his goods and have him fined ; but they allow hundreds who
are doing the same to pass unmolested. Thus in this
country every day you meet contradictions — fact and theory
coming constantly into collision ; and notwithstanding the
perpetual proclamation of Americans that they are a free
people, you are forced to conclude that there are people just
as free in countries where less noise is made about it.
In an early part of this Journal I commented rather
severely on an American hotel, Broadway, New York, and
I have no reason to think that I wrote unjustly of that house.
But if I was understood to convey that my censure on that
occasion embraced all American hotels, I would be sadly
misinterpreted. The only hotels I have yet had experience of
in the United States are the "St. Julian's," of Portland, Me.,
and the " Parker House," Boston. In the former I stayed
only twenty-four hours and have nothing to say against it ;

1 84 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
in the latter I am now " located " for more than two months,
and wish to say a great deal in its praise.
In America hotels are quite an institution of their kind,
they take the first rank as institutions in all the world. It is
a natural result ofthe Democratic spirit that in this country,
private hospitalities should be less extensive than in countries
Monarchial or Aristocratic when all are equal, there is less
willingness to receive favours or to be under obligations.
The people have a universal taste for independence. Hence
the majority of the respectable classes live in hotels, which
have thus become institutions and are constructed and
managed with all that style and order for which in America,
institutions are distinguished.
" The Parker House " in Boston is the best hotel I was
ever in. It is a magnificent building, erected by a Mr.
Parker, a self-made man, who still presides over it, in part
nership with a Mr. Mills. It is situated in School-street,
and faces directly the City Hall, perhaps the handsomest
structure in all Boston. It is itself an extremely, handsome
building, being Grecian in style, and faced with polished
marble. The number of persons employed is 180, the
guests rooms are 250 and are always occupied, but the great
business is done by casual visitors who breakfast, dine, and
sup. It is the most popular hotel in town, and is always
thronged ; over 2,000 people visit it daily, and partake of
its hospitality. The bill of fare is stupendous and be
wildering ; but the machinery of the house, complicated as
one might suppose it to be, works with the most marvellous
regularity. Let us consider what is an American hotel — ab uno disce
omnes. You enter, and write your name in the book on the

THE ' ' A THENS OF AMERICA." i 8 5
counter; you are told the number of your room, and get
your key, while your luggage is taken upstairs by a porter.
Having made your toilet, you come down stairs, perhaps you
wish for a bath — there are two on every corridor ; you wish to
be shaved or to have your hair dressed — there is a hair-dress
ing and shaving establishment below ; your boots are soiled —
here are several shoe-blacks ready for an order. You ascend
smiling and comfortable, and you just remember that you
have a telegram to send to New York, to London, to Bombay,
it matters not whither — here is the telegraph clerk seated at
his desk, and the eternal "click, click," announcing his
occupation. The news? why here are papers from all parts
of "creation." Your supply of visiting cards is out — a
young man is here to do them on the spot. You want to
write a letter — here are desk, paper, ink, and stamps, all at
hand. Have any letters arrived for you ? — one of the clerks
will tell you. You want a novel, or some other light book
to amuse your dull hours — see the book-stall in a corner,
and the young man up to his eyes in business. Do you
smoke ? — here is another little corner, where you can have
Havanas, or cheroots at pleasure. Do you wish to go to
the theatre ? — this young man at the counter will supply
you with a ticket, and point out in a diagram what seat in
the theatre is yours for that evening. Take off your outside-
coat and leave it in the cloak-room — the man will give you
a check for it. Enter the dining-room, with at least one
hundred tables, made double and treble by the reflection of
mirrors ; here is the bill of fare ; find if you cannot satisfy
your appetite out of it, you must be an epicure indeed.
Over 200 items, including soups, fish, flesh, fowl, and game,
pastry, fruit, and wines, ought to satisfy you I think. Do you

1 86 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
wish to dine with the ladies? — if so, goto the ladies' dining-
room, it makes no difference. In fine, do you wish for a
railway ticket to any place, from Boston all round the world
and back again ? — you can get it at the magic counter of
this wonder-working Parker House.
I have gone through the whole house, and observed its
machinery. Twenty feet under ground are the furnace and
steam-engine, which by the annual consumption of 800 tons
of coal, supply the motive power for the complicated oper
ations going on above. I passed into the store-room,
packed full of nice things — spices, preserves, olives, oils,
nuts, and smelling with a delicious compound of richest
odours. Here is .the larder ! how neatly everything is
arranged ! how crowded every nook with the raw materials
for health, strength and pleasure ! See those matchless rows
of mutton-chops, and red and white beefsteaks, all ready to
broil ! they are beautiful enough in their repose to tempt
the art of a photographer. What provoking quantities of
game, brought from every part of the country, to set the
mouths of epicures watering ! Here are salmon from the
pine-clad banks of streams in Maine, from the icy floods oi
Canada, and the gold-haven rivers of California. Every air
of heaven, every clime on earth, every isle of the ocean has
been laid under tribute to cater to the appetites of those who
patronize the Parker House, and what quantity of materials,
think you, is daily consumed in this establishment ? Four
teen barrels of vegetables, one ton of meat and poultry,
five-hundred weight of fish, four barrels of oysters, three
hundred and twenty quarts of milk, three barrels of flour,
one hundred and fifty pounds of butter, one hundred dozen
of eggs, and other things in proportion. One can fancy what

THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA." 187
work goes on in the kitchen after this enumeration. The
ranges of tables and dishes, the gigantic soup kettles, big
enough to boil down whole oxen in, the glowing rows of
fires, with spits and gridirons, and every convenience for
frying and roasting and broiling — the long array of white-
aproned cooks at their respective posts, twenty in number,
all make up a show that fill the spectator with admiration
and surprise.
And then the laundry in an adjacent room is another
wonder. As we look on the busy scene, and trace the
running machinery for cleaning soiled garments, and see the
exact order in which every parcel has its own mark and
book-entry, and notice the purity and freshness of the place,
and follow the busy motions of the girls who wash or iron,
or fold, the whole room becomes a beautiful picture of a
human beehive.
The wine-cellar with its multitudinous bottles of various
wines all packed and stored away in an atmosphere of
delicious coolness, makes one feel-thirsty, and anti-temperate;
and this feeling is heightened by contemplating a huge ice-
chest filled with bottles ready for immediate consumption-
These are only a few glimpses of the working part of the
hotel. There are private dining rooms, where parties are
held almost every day, and sometimes when I am retiring to
rest, I hear the clapping of some thirty or forty hilarious boon-
companions over the speech of some posh-prandial orator.
I deplore the envious fate that dooms me to a solitary room,
and the unromantic folds of a blanket. But I bear my lot
with patience, and feel proud of being a guest where things
are done in so grand a style, as in the " Parker House " of
Boston.

18S DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
Boston is called from a place ofthe same name in Lincoln
shire in England, where there is a famous cathedral existing
since the old cathedral times— dedicated to God under the
invocation of St. Butolph, a Saxon saint. The original name
of the original Boston was Butolph's Town, which being too
cumbersome for common conversation, was shortened down
into Bostown or Boston. The historians here, descendants
of the old hard grained Puritans, allowed a great many years
to elapse before they discovered this fact — the terrible fact
that their new city in New England, the city of all the
" (sch)isms " (ca-tholi-cism alone excepted), was called after
a Catholic saint ; in their ignorance they went so far as to
allow one of the streets to be called " Butolph Street," but
rather late, no doubt, owing to the researches of some officious
antiquarian, they > discovered the unwelcome truth, that
Butolph was a canonized papal saint, and they changed the
name of the street into " Irving Street," which it is to the
present day. I knew a gentleman who lived for years in
Butolph Street. It was newly called, I dare say, after
Washington Irving, who has not been canonized, and is not
likely to be. It is only surprising that they did not call the
whole city Irvingstown, in their wonderful preference of a
pleasing writer, to a head of the Christian religion.
November 24th, 1870. — This is "Thanksgiving Day," and
is celebrated all over the United States. It is somewhat
like our Christmas Day — at least, as far as festive enjoyment
goes. Friends come from distant places to see their friends,
and there is great feasting everywhere. Labour is suspended,
people go to church ; and the theatres are largely patronized.
The day was fine, and I walked through the city ; it was
like Sunday, but I could see that labour was not altogether

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 189
suspended. I saw people building houses, &c. The day
is set aside to thank God for all the blessings conferred
during the year, especially for an abundant harvest. I had
some invitations to dinner — one especially from a German
few ; but I declined them all. I don't care to dine with
people I don't know well.
November 2$th. — This morning I went by rail to Worces
ter, a city (I believe there is no such thing as a " town" in
all America), of about 45,000 inhabitants, of whom about
18,000 are Catholics. Worcester is, I think, forty-five miles
from Boston. The morning was very fine ; it had frozen
over night, but it was by no means cold, although at this
time last year, as I am informed, there was several feet of
snow upon the ground.
The American railway carriages are very comfortable.
Such a thing as a rug would be a superfluity, and an over
coat may be dispensed with. The carriages are all heated.
and as a large number of people are always travelling, the
atmosphere is never cool.
I reached Worcester at 10J a.m., and found it very like
all American small " cities " I have yet seen. The charac
teristics of American cities appear to me to be these : A
number of streets, almost always straight and regular, the
houses composed either of red brick or wood. Several
streets are insignificant, and the roadways bad ; but there
are always a few main streets which are very fine, composed
of large solid houses, fine shops, with plenty of carriages
in waiting outside, and a good many foot passengers, and a
fair amount of bustle. In these main streets there is a track,
and horse-cars run. The names over the doors are frequently
composed of gilt letters, and sometimes a shopkeeper who

1 90 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
believes in advertising has a handsome flag suspended at a
great height, by a rope reaching quite across the street, with
his name and number inscribed on it. This looks pic
turesque. The bustle of these cities is greatly increased by
the constant, I might say the incessant, noise of railway
trains running by — running often through the centre of an
important street, with a bell ringing at a tremendons rate-
A large wooden archway over the track warns you against
danger by the- words painted on it — " Look out for the
engine while the bell rings." How a few dozen people are
not killed every day in each of those cities is a marvel to
me, for the bell is always ringing, and the engine, or as they
pronounce it, the " injine," is always coming.
Churches there are plenty, and now and then a green
place with a monument to Daniel Webster, to Washington,
or Araham Lincoln, or perhaps some nobody. You some
times pass a splendid-looking building with a magnificent
Grecian portico, and steps leading up ; but with your
walking cane you find the steps are made of wood, and
your suspicion being once awakened, you tap the columns,
and a hollow sound announces that they too are only a
spurious imitation.
Such are, I fancy, the leading features of those " cities."
See one, and you see all. Worcester is contemptuously
called a " one-horse city." Why? Because it is not large
or wealthy enough to support street cars with two horses,
like most other cities, but must be content with one-horse
cars. Indeed I have been told that the one-horse cars here
scarcely pay, and that they had been actually discontinued
for some time.
I came to Worcester to make arrangements for a lecture

THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA." 191
which I am to deliver here on December 6th. I visited the
college, situated about two miles from the town on a great
eminence — a fine house on a fine site. It was a long walk.
I went to see a young man I knew there, and who was a
good guide to me in Worcester. I called on the Bishop
(O'Reilly) and the clergy, and several of the laity. I had
great success, and anticipate an overflowing house.. I visited,
among others, a Father John Power. He was at dinner,
and invited me to partake of his hospitality.. I was nothing
loth. His curate and my young friend, Walsh, made up a
partie carrL. The chief dish, it being Friday, was fish
" chowder," a kind of hotch-potch — viz., fish, biscuits, pota
toes, vegetables, sauce, &e.
We spoke of the variety of dishes prevailing in various
countries. I said I found it hard to. like some American
dainties, which the natives seemed to prize very much I
could scarcely put up with tomato, I hated sweet " potatoes,"
but "squash" was to me an abomination ! I described my
having tasted " squash " once (it is a huge yellow pumpkin),
and thought it tasted like soap, but that the saponaceous
article seemed to me to have rather the advantage of it in
flavour. It is usually served up mashed, like turnips. Father
Power was amused by my strong denunciation of a precious
vegetable, but foretold that I would yet eat it with pleasure.
I sturdily answered, " never."
The " chowder " was removed, and a pie took its place.
I was helped, and found it very nice pie, so much so that I
finished my share.
" You seem to like that pie," said Father Power.
"Yes, sir," said I, " it is exquisite ! "
" Well," said he, " my prophesy is fulfilled much sooner

192 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
than I anticipated. You have just eaten the one-fourth part
of a squash pie. The laugh was against me, and I admitted
the justice of it.
I lectured in Worcester with considerable success. The
Bishop (O'Reilly) of Springfield, lately consecrated, was very
favourable to me, and the clergy lent a cordial assistance,
I had an audience of about 1,000 in the Mechanics' Hall,
and realized 163 dollars.
All the while I had been suffering from an attack of rheu
matism in my shoulder; but soon after my return from
Providence, there appeared symptoms of a more serious
visitation of the disease. I felt it in my right knee on
Wednesday, December the 4th. On that day I sent home
to the Bishop a bill of exchange for the second ;£ 1,000, and
that night I retired to rest with unmistakable symptoms of
rheumatism in my right knee. Suffice to say, I was con
fined to bed for a whole fortnight, and endured a great deal
of pain. My whole system was out of order, and medical
care was of the greatest importance. But what physician
could I call in a strange city, especially in a city where, as
all through America, quacks are so abundant.
Nothing could surpass the care and kindness of the
servants of the hotel, of whom about a dozen evinced for
me the greatest sympathy. They were all Irish, and many
from Cork County. They neglected no means for aiding
in my restoration to health. The men-servants could show
nothing but sympathy, and they showed it as far as language
could go.
Dr. Salter called every day while I was sick, and showed
great skill as well as industry in banishing my pains and
restoring me to health. Mrs. Salter wrote me a note of

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 193
sympathy, and sent me books and pictures to amuse, and
wine to stregthen me. She then came herself every day,
and spent an hour with me. She impressed me as one of
the most learned, elegant and accomplished ladies I had
ever met. Although the daughter of a Protestant clergyman,
she is a convert to Catholicity, and so became every member
of her family, including the Doctor. I never met a more
intense Catholic than Mrs. Salter. She seems to have not
only retained, but to have kept constantly intensifying in
her soul the first fervour of neophytism.
I bore my illness and solitude with remarkable patience
for some days ; but soon, when it got noised abroad, my
resignation was less severely tested, for several friends
dropped in, and all brought some present which they
thought would be of service to me. One brought wine,
another fruit, a third, Mrs. Murphy, acted like a Sister of
Charity. She came every day, and brought some soup or
other delicacy, such as a jelly, which she administered with
her own hands, until I found myself as well cared for as if
I were ill in my own house at home. Withal, I sighed.
for the gentle care of my sister and dear friend, Miss Cox,
and for the balmy air of my native land. In Boston it
blew, one day a hurricane, another day the wind was cold
and biting — then it froze for several days together, and last
of all it snowed.
As I grew better, I fancied that my condition was not so
very disagreeable, and that repose and seclusion from a cold
atmosphere were not entirely unpleasant ; yet I had to spend
the Christmas in my room, while all the world were enjoj'ing
the festivities of that merry season. No matter, I had many
reflections to console me, and I could not resist the tempta- o

194 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
tion of weaving those reflections into verse. I subjoin a
copy of the lines I wrote on this occasion : — -
CONSOLATIONS OF AN EXILED INVALID ON CHRISTMAS DAY.
How many a way man is doomed upon earth
To spend " Merry Christmas," as men love to call it !
For some 'tis a season of frolic and mirth,
For others, there's plenty of sorrow to gall it.
Here family circles unbroken unite,
There vacant chairs vainly await the departed ;
Here children's loud laughter enlivens the night,
There pines the lone father, death-doomed, broken-hearted ;
For me, I have tried, when this Christmas comes round,
To smile in saloons or to revel in attics —
The last was the jolliest yet, though it found
Me sick in a Boston, hotel with rheumatics.

There, stretched at full length, as I lay on my back,
I gazed on the ceiling all white that shone o'er me,
A canvas so fair did my fancy but lack
To paint all its- visions of Christmas before me.
One pleasure, at least, was the absence of sound —
Shut out was the world, with its cares and its troubles,
Calm, holy and sweet was the silence around,
Unheard were the breakers of life, and its bubbles,
The frosty wind sighed by my cold window-pane,
But I was wrapped snug from those biting pneumatics,
I tell you. my friends, I'd spend Christmas again
Thus sick in a Boston hotel with rheumatics.

No doubt, it is lonely thus lying in bed ;
With patience, however, to bear it I'm able :
Far better, my lot than of those whom the dead
Come haunting at Christmas, and grin round the table.
Far better be- captive in bed, when the pain
Is not unendurable, than in a prison,
Where pleasure expires- at the clank, of the chain,
And hopes are extinguished as soon as arisen ;

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 195

Far better an ocean of bed than of wave,
Secure from the dangers of wild aerostatics,
I envy no seaman so close to his grave,
While sick in a Boston hotel with rheumatics.
How many a Prussian now trembling in France
With hunger and cold and unspeakable hard fare,
Would envy my bed, where no bayonet or lance
Would conjure up all the wild horrors of warfare.
Oh, Christmas, what thousands of palls hast thou flung
O'er hearts and o'er homes through this war's desolation?
Thy advent, once welcome to aged and young,
Now brings only ruin, and woe, and starvation.
To count all the sorrows of Teuton and Frank
This Christmas, surpasses all my mathematics,.
But one thing is plain, my good angel I thank,
That I'm sick in a Boston hotel with rheumatics.
I think of the thousands like me who recline
In bed, but alas ! with less hope of revival,
Who, friendless, unpitied, incurable pine,
And think their best blessing Death's early arrival.
Ah ! Christmas, what balm, for those wretches hast thou ?
The memories thou bringest but heighten their anguish,
The joys that thou sheddest of yore are but now
Dim phantoms before which they hopelessly languish —
For me, I but suffer some pain in my knees,
Which yields to the soothings of homoeopathies,
And calmly philosophize here at my ease,
Laid up in a Boston hotel with rheumatics.
And were I at home ! what is home to me now,
Since those who endeared it are vanished for ever ?
The father who sat at the board with the brow
Of Jove when serenest, again shall sit never.
The mother whose face, like a garden of flowers,
Gave out all its sweets to the sunshine of pleasure,
Sheds radiance no more on the festival hours,
A sharp, sudden stroke reft my life of that treasure.

196 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
A sister and friend guard the homestead for me,
While Destiny flings me amongst the erratics ;
Small difference then doth it make if I be
One sick in a Boston hotel with rheumatics.
Come, let us be jolly, whatever betide,
And fill up a bumper : let's call it Falernian.
It matters not what be the liquor supplied,
As long as we cannot procure the Hibernian.
Come, Mary and Pat, to your welfare here goes ;
Time flies ! see, already the day's disappearing !
The season comes round once a year, and who knows
The next we may spend in the dear land of Erin?
The thought is so pleasant, it makes me inclined
To try an experiment in acrobatics ;
This Christmas, at least, is the last that will find
Me sick in a Boston hotel with rheumatics.
During my illness I heard from the servants and visitors
a great deal about the preparations which were being made
to honour the Christmas festival. But I was very much sur
prised to learn that it is only of very late years that the
solemnity has been observed at all, and even so late as
twenty years ago, it was xegarded no more than any other
day in the year ; and stranger still, that there were many
persons in Boston and elsewhere who actually never heard
of Christmas Day, or knew what it meant !
That the anniversary of the Nativity of Christ should be
ignored amongst Christians while other anniversaries were
remembered and respected, is very singular indeed, yet so it
was. Twenty years ago, on the return of Christmas Day
there was nothing to indicate that any extraordinary day
had arrived. Business of all kinds went on as usual. There
was no church service except in the few Catholic chapels
that then existed, and no one spoke of Christmas Da)'. See
what a change has taken place in a few years. Christmas

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 197
Day is now observed by all classes with as much strictness
as it is in any part of the world. . And. not only are the
churches filled, and all business suspended, but there is an
unusual amount of feasting, and visiting and house decoration,
and holiday-making everywhere, and this is increasing from
one year to another. The newspapers state that no previous
celebration of Christmas surpassed this one in festivity, and
the community were congratulated upon their growing
Christian spirit.
No allusion however was made to the means by which this
great revolution was brought about, while everybody knows
that it is entirely owing to the influence, of the Irish: The
Irish would not work on a Christmas Day — so great was
their reverence from childhood for this festival, that no threat
or privation could prevail on them to desecrate it by servile
work They., sturdily resisted the solicitations of their
employers, and the end of that was business had to be given
up and the. obligations of Christmas recognised. The
despised race brought about this change ; the weak ones of
the world confounded the strong, and religion witnessed
another triumph at the hands of a people to whom its
interests are dearer than life itself.
Shortly after my last lecture, I received a letter of warm
congratulation from a lady, " Miss Jannette L. Douglas," 209
Springfield Street, Boston, to which I replied on the eve of my
illness, and which was soon succeeded by another. To the
latter I replied soliciting the honour of a. visit, as I was un
well. Miss Douglas came, and I immediately recognised a
lady to whom I had been introduced to in the Victoria Hotel,
Cork, about two years ago by my friend Professor Barry,
since deceased. Miss Douglas is a fine looking lady — she

1 98 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
had been travelling alone, as is the custom of American
ladies, and she now informed me that, on that occasion she
completed a tour through Great Britain, Ireland and
France. Her admiration of Professor Barry was intense.
She described him as the most finished gentleman she had
ever met. And indeed she did not err, for the Professor's
manners were most courtly, and his conversational powers
unequalled. Her sorrow, when I informed her of his death
was genuine indeed.
The lady had written the manuscript of a book which she
is now preparing for the press, a journal of her tour, which I
have no doubt, will be highly interesting, if I can form any
opinion of her style from the correctness and elegance of her
language in conversation, as well as from her powers of
observation of men and things. I am to spend an evening
at Miss Douglas's house when I am entirely convalescent.
I should have mentioned long since that I lectured at Ports
mouth, New Hampshire, under the auspices of my friend the
Rev. Canon Walsh, Pastor of that place, but with only
trifling success, as the Catholic population is few, and not
lecture-loving. The nett receipts were only fifty dollars.
But my chief reason for going to Portsmouth was that I
might enjoy the pleasure of meeting again that estimable
clergyman, to whom I was introduced last summer in Mon
treal. His wit and humour, and hilarity were to me perfectly
delightful, and his hospitality, which was of the genuine Irish
pattern, made me feel quite at home. He had a few other
guests, and his sister Miss Walsh, a very talented and
interesting young lady.
From all I learn, the antipathy to the Catholic religion and
the Irish population is very intense in this country. One

THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA." 199
instance of this amused me. A very estimable clergyman of
Jamaica Plain was one day driving me in his carriage through
a part of the country near his house. He pointed out to me
a house on the road side, of not very portentous appearance,
and a very stately mansion close by somewhat further from
the road. The latter had been built before the former. An
Irishman had dared to build a house within a few yards of
an American ; but what was to be done? The law afforded
no solace to the wounded feelings of the Yankee, and as a
last resource he erected a long and high wooden wall that
would completely shut out from view the obnoxious domicile
of the unoffending Patrick. I saw the wall of separation,
and I could not help feeling disgusted to think that any
man's hatred for another could carry him to such absurd
and ridiculous lengths.
But Patrick goes steadily " marching on." Every year
witnesses new triumphs of his nationality and religion, and
there is every reason to hope that after a generation or two,
both will be once for all in the ascendant.
In the city of Providence, and indeed, I believe, all through
the broad island, there exists a law clearly aimed at Irishmen,
that no " foreigner," no matter how long resident in the
country, can vote for any purpose unless he have real estate
to the value of 134 dollars. This law excludes from civil
and municipal privileges many Irishmen, although it permits
even niggers to enjoy them. Even a negro is preferable in
the eyes of a Yankee to an Irishman.
According as I recovered from my illness I found it very
necessary for me to go to some part of the country for change
of air, for as long as I remained confined my appetite would
not return. I bethought myself of the Rev. John McCarthy,

200 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
of Watertown; I knew how kind and good he was, and I
felt he was the proper person for me to stay with. As good
luck would have it, who should drop ¦ in to visit me but the
same good man, and he immediately invited me to his place.
I promised to go on the following Friday, and he engaged
to meet me at: the station.. When Friday came I left by the
12 traim The moment I entered the open air I. felt it like
a knife cutting my throat inside, and I coughed tremendously.
I had no notion it was so cold, but it had snowed for some
days previous and the streets were all white. This day I
saw sleighs in operation for the first time ; I had seen them
before in coach-houses, but now I saw them passing through
the streets over the snow, and heard the pleasant sound of
the bells making the whole air musical. I was not long in
reaching Watertown, which is only seven miles from Boston,
and there Father McCarthy was ready for me with his sleigh
and his wolf-skin rug — it is remarkable that the first day I
ever saw a sleigh in action was the first day I rode in one.
Father McCarthy suggested that we should take a good long
drive before coming to the house, which was close at hand.
I agreed. The whole country was covered thick with snow,
and probably will be for several weeks, if not months. The
air was biting cold, but bracing and healthy. I was snug in
my magnificent Irish frieze coat, the envy and admiration of
everyone who saw it ; and the grand muffler made for me at
home by the fairy fingers of Miss Bride Finnegan, encircled
my neck and enveloped my ears, while two warm gloves
without fingers, of which I had been made a present, kept
my hands in a warm glow. We drove along — the horse, a
splendid animal — and shot over the snow like a skiff, while
the little bells tinkled a merry peal over the horse's back.

THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA." 201
We met many other sleighs on the way, some driven by
ladies, others by gentlemen ; but ours wasas good-looking,
and our horse as spanking as any. The journey was very
pleasant : but it was impossible to discern any beauty in the
landscape, as all was enveloped in snow. Not a bird was to
be seen anywhere. Father McCarthy told me that through
the whole winter not: one was visible, they all fled to
southern and warmer climates, indeed, if they remained, a
few weeks of starvation would have killed them all. It was
amusing to see the various costumes worn by gentlemen
driving in sleighs. Furs were the most abundant, and I saw
one gentleman so enveloped from head to foot in skins that
it would not have been, difficult to mistake him for a wild
beast, especially as there was a something ferocious in his
aspect, quite in correspondence with the hirsuteness of his
attire. Children derive, great amusement from the snowy
and frosty weather. They pull each other on small sleighs,
which they call " sleds," and take a great deal of exercise in
this manner. The atmosphere is by ho means cold in this
snowy weather, on the contrary, it is often mild and genial,
and the bracing air quickens the spirits and makes one feel
happy. When we arrived at Father McCarthy's dinner was ready.
The house, like most of the priests' houses I have seen in
this country, is admirably furnished, and very elegantly kept.
All the rooms are heated up to 700 Fahrenheit, summer heat,
in fact ; and it is so pleasant to step from the biting atmos
phere of the ice and snow into such a temperature. This is
one great point in which the Americans seem to be so much
ahead of us — domestic comfort. They seem to make it the
especial element of their happiness. Everyone appears to

202 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
have a good house, and those who enjoy wealth, even in
moderation, dwell in splendid mansions far superior in style
and comfort to those of an equal position in Ireland. Almost
all the houses, at least in the country, are built of wood —
even the most magnificent palaces of merchant princes —
but then they are all built in a beautiful style of architecture,
are cooler than stone in summer, and warmer than stone in,
winter, and resist time and tempests just as well. Building
in wood, too, seems to suit the genius of the American people
exactly. They do not build for posterity. Each man appears
to build for himself. As men do not pride themselves on
their ancestry in this country, so neither do they seem to
reck what may be the character or position of posterity.
Architecture, then, is consulted only as to what it can do for
the present day, and it supplies what is at once most elegant,
cheap and commodious, and this applies to public as well
as private buildings.
One ofthe finest houses I have ever been in, in America,
was one which Father McCarthy took me to visit. It is the
house of Mr. Adams, the chief of that firm known as the
"Adams' Express Company." This company has its branches
all over the United States. It is devoted to the transmission
by express of all kinds of goods and parcels from one place
to another. The principal (Adams) began life like so many
remarkable Americans, without a cent, and is now one of
the great millionaires of the country. Well, he has a splendid
house, very close to Watertown, and large tracts of land, all
round which he has fenced in by a low granite wall. Father
McCarthy has a general entree into the house, where there
is a very fine gallery of paintings, and he drove me over to
see the place. The paintings are very fine. I fancied for a

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 203
moment that I was in some gallery on the continent of
Europe, for the resemblance is perfect, and appears to have
been studied. Many of those paintings are originals from
European galleries, purchased at a great price, and others
are very good copies. The whole is very interesting. The
lady of the house hearing we were there came into the picture
gallery and greeted Father McCarthy. He introduced me
and the lady hearing I was from Ireland, very courteously
observed that " good pictures were no treat to me," which
implied good paintings were rare in America. And so they are,
I fancy, at least paintings which are the works of American
artists. Mrs. Adams pointed out the pictures which are
most admired, and gave the history of many — where they
were got, what they cost, &c, &c. We bade her farewelh
with thanks, and mounted to the top of the house where
there is a Belvidere. The glass is stained, each pane a
different colour from the next, and the landscape viewed
through the various panes presents curious aspects. We
saw the State House of Boston at a distance of seven miles,
and the numerous little towns and villages all around that are
so abundant all through Massachusetts.
The residence of another millionaire, Caleb Cushing, is in
the immediate neighbourhood of Adams' ; and the great
attraction here, are the gardens on which he lavishes a great
portion of his wealth, but as all these were now all covered
with snow, and were only invisible green, we did not mind
visiting them.
January sst.— Father Shinnick came to-day from East
Cambridge to dine, and in the evening some ladies and
gentlemen came to see me, and we had a good musical treat,
especially as Father McCarthy has a piano. All people in

204 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
America seem very fond of the Irish airs. Moore's Melodies
are the great favourites. I do not know whether the
Americans evince this love of our airs, probably not, but to
me it is delightful to hear, them — it makes me feel as if I
were at home.
January $rd. — I feel quite strong enough to return to town.
Father McCarthy came with me ; I bid him good-bye at the
Parker House. I engaged the Music Hall for Tuesday, the
24th inst, for the purpose of delivering my. lecture on " The
Chivalry of the Middle Ages." I met in the street Father
Thomas Barry, of Rockport. It had been arranged between
him and me that I was to.preach and take up a collection in
his church next Sunday, but he comes to tell me that the
principal firm in the place had failed, and that hundreds of
people were thrown out of employment, in consequence of
which there was no use in my going. This was a disappoint
ment, but there was no help for it.
I go by train to Lowell at 12 noon and make arrange
ments to lecture there on the 15th. I make the acquaint
ance of a leading Irish citizen there, a Mr. Patrick Dempsey,
who receives me at his house, and gives me hospitality, and
does all in his power to promote my interests. He drives
me about and introduces me to several prominent men like
himself, and I have considerable success. I sleep at Mr.
Dempsey's. He is one of the best self-educated men I have
found in his position of life. He is an extensive liquor
dealer, and highly respected in Lowell.
On Thursday I go by train to Salem, distant about 20
miles from Lowell. Salem is on the sea, and is I think the
oldest town in Massachusetts. It was the greatest strong
hold oi Puritanism in the State. There is a place here

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA:' ' 205
called Gallows Hill, where up to a comparatively late period,
witches were hung and burned. Within a quarter of a
century, all the Catholics in Salem were contained in one
small church ; they could easily be counted. Now they are
six thousand, out of an entire population of 24,000, and
increase from year to year. Farming and currying are the
staple trade of Salem. Indeed the whole atmosphere is
redolent of tan. As that trade was once prevalent in Cork,
and then fell into decay, those who were thrown out of
employment found, many of them, a good refuge in Salem.
The. Cork element is very strong here. I stayed with a Mr.
Martin Egan, a tanner, from Blackpool, in Cork. He and
his wife were very kind. I was treated with the most
profuse and'cordial hospitality by those good people. Mr.
Egan took me to see several Cork friends, and others
hearing of my arrival, called at his house to see me. I was
quite at home here.
January 6th. — Celebrated Mass in one of the churches.
Pastor, a young Irish priest, Father Gray ; his curate, Father
Healy, born at Muinteravsara, Co. Cork, dined with Mr.
Egan, who drove meto Peabody. This is a large town, so
close to Salem, that it is impossible for a stranger to
discern any line of demarcation. It is the birthplace of
the celebrated George Peabody, whose statue is in London,
and in compliment to whom it takes its name, having been
formerly known as Danvers. Mr. Egan took me to see
Mrs. Foley, nee Buckley, a cousin of mine (?), sister of Father
Buckley, of Ballyclough, Co. Cork. She was very kind
and insisted on the relationship. I was invited by so
many to come again that I have resolved to lecture here.
I hope it will be a success.

206 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
I leave Salem for Boston in order to be present at a great
meeting to be held this evening in the Music Hall, to
protest against the occupation of Rome by Victor Emmanuel.
On reaching the hotel I got a great number of Cork
Examiners, which were awaiting my arrival, and also a
letter from Canon Maguire. I go to the great meeting,
and justly indeed may it be called great. The Hall was
crammed to suffocation and thousands had to remain out
side who could not get admission. The Bishop was present.
Mr. P. Donahoe in the chair. A great number of clergy
also were there. The utmost enthusiasm prevailed. It was
indeed, to my mind, the most genuine and thorough Catholic
demonstration I ever witnessed. The Bishop's speech was
excellent, eloquent, and exhaustive — he was received with
a cordial welcome ; the cheering was repeated over and over
again. The next most popular speaker was my friend the
Hon. P. A. Collins. Two things only were to be regretted,
viz., — that three ofthe speakers read their speeches, and that
there was no programmes. There was no series of resolu
tions ; each speaker said what he pleased on the whole
subject, so that they were all harping on the one string, and
many sentiments were repeated over and over again
ad nauseam. But for spirit and ardour and Catholic earnest
ness, I never saw a better, nobler, or more effective demon
stration. January 8th. — In bed all day with rheumatism — shocking
and constant pain in my knee. Dr. Salter called once more
into requisition ; servants very kind and attentive, as before ;
receive visits from many friends, which is cheering.
January 12th. — I feel better, get up and walk out. Here
and there I get an opportunity of seeing my face in a look-

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA? 207
ing glass, and the spectacle shocks and frightens me. I met ,
Mr. Boyle O'Reilly and the Hon. P. A. Collins in Washing
ton-street. They express the greatest alarm at the alteration
in my appearance. I feel this is the best proof I could have
of the bad effects of my illness. I come to my hotel, and
address a letter to Father M'Carthy, of Watertown, where I
am to deliver a lecture to-morrow evening, to say I cannot
go. This is a great sacrifice, but I cannot help it. Doctor
Salter comes ; while he is present there is a knock at the
door. " Come in," I cry. A boy comes in with some
photographs of me from Mr. Black, my photographer, and
the bill. I overhear the Doctor saying — " When I was a
boy it was usual for boys, when coming into a gentleman's
room, to take off their caps " (I observed the boy wore his),
" but now-a-days boys have become too independent. Why
do you not take off yoar cap, sir, in the presence of a clergy
man ? " The boy laughed outright, but never obeyed the
Doctor. On the contrary, he seemed to have a great con
tempt for that worthy man, and to think that he had thrown
away his speech. Yes ; the system of democracy which
pretends to bring men to a level brings some lower than
they were.
January i$th. — Am amused by an American gentleman,
whom I met at the house of Mr. John Glanny, and who
delivers himself of some very strange theological theories.
After he had explained one opinion of his, he asked me
what I thought of it. I said I could find no fault with it,
except that it did not seem conformable with a certain pas
sage in Job, which I quoted.
" Oh, but," quoth the gentleman, ' ' I beg leave to differ with
Mr. Job." His faith he summed up in the curious expression.

2 08 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
"lama Catholic, but I reserve to myself the privilege of
independent thought and investigation."
Every day something startling in theology turns up in
America. A few days ago I saw a Rev. Mr. Alger, one of
the great lights of Boston, advertised to preach the following
Sunday. Subject — "What is to become of us hereafter?"
a sequel to that gentleman's sermon ofthe previous Sunday,
viz., " The Resurrection of the Body Refuted." A Rev.
Mr. Morgan delivered a lecture lately, in Boston, on " Fast
Young Men," which made quite a sensation, and he followed
it up with another, on " Fast Young Men of Dry Goods
Stores" — i.e., in our phraseology, "Fast Young Men of the
Drapers' Clerks class." These latter felt very indignant
that their class should be thus ignominiously pointed at,
and called a meeting, in which they drew up a requisition to
the Rev. Mr. Morgan, begging of him to lecture next on a
subject which they thought a good counterpart to the "Fast
Young Men '' — viz., " Tough Old Sinners," of whom, no
doubt, they deemed the said Rev. Morgan to be one of the
most conspicuous.
I go to Lowell (twenty-four miles by train), and stay with
Mr. Dempsey. He and Mrs. Dempsey and daughter (Etta)
are very kind, and do all in their power to make me happy.
On Sunday I am very sick, and eat nothing, or if I do, my
stomach rejects it — am very weak and languid. Hear Mass
and stay in the house all day. The success of my lecture is
not likely to be great, as the priests are not disposed to pub
lish it in their churches. One of them treated me in a very
boorish manner, at my first interview with him, and he is
still unrelenting. The Fates are dead against me of late.
Miss Dempsey does all she can to amuse me. We play

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 209
chess and draughts, and " Jack Straws " (an American
game), and she shows me all the photographic and stereo
scopic views in the house. She then brings me her autographic
album, and wishes me to add my name to those of other
" distinguished personages " who had already honoured its
pages. This is a great trial to my modesty, which feeling
suggests matter for the following lines, which I contributed
to the young lady's album : —
" My autograph I here append,
Although my modesty may be to blame ;
But a deaf ear what man could lend
When Etta asks him only for his name ? "
The lecture came off successfully, as far as I was con
cerned; but otherwise, considering the audience, who num
bered only 415, at twenty five Cents a ticket. The nett
proceeds amounted to only sixty-eight dollars, a great failure
for so important a place. The lecture has knocked me up
completely. I come home to Boston as quickly as possible,
and go to bed.
January 2 ist. — I am wonderfully improved in my health
since yesterday, and feel equal to anything. Went to Law
rence, an important city, perhaps twenty miles from Boston,
on the invitation of Father William Orr, who had invited
me to spend Sunday with him, and preach on that day, so
that I might be known to the people, arid make a good col
lection amongst them, this third Sunday of January. It was
very kind. He acted an excellent part towards us, for which
we are very grateful. Return to Boston, paid a few farewell
visits, as we leave for New York next Saturday. Called to
bid farewell to Bishop Williams, but found he was absent
from home. Made other visits, and spent my last evening p

2 1 o DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
in the Parker House, at least for some time. A deputation
from East Boston waited on me, asking ine to lecture there,
and accept the total proceeds. I promised to come up
from New York some weeks hence, when I shall fulfil a few
other engagements also. A few friends called to bid adieu,
and we spent a pleasant evening together.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE EMPIRE CITY.
We leave at 8.30 a.m. in a " Pullman Palace Car," quite a
superb carriage, beautifully ornamented with mirrors, with
compartments where two or three can lock themselves up
comfortably, and enjoy each other's society, and sit or
lounge on luxurious cushions. A young lady — Miss Mary
Josephine O'Sullivan — Mr. John White's stepdaughter, is
placed under my charge. She was never more than twenty
miles from Boston, and is delighted at the idea of making
her first visit to the great city of New York, where she is to
be on a visit with some friends. The whole country is
covered with snow. We go by Springfield and Newhaven,
209 miles. Miss O'Sullivan is provided with a basket con
taining a magnificent dinner, to which we did full justice in
our little palace-car compartment. We had a very nice
table,, and every convenience. The Americans have a great
notion of how to make themselves comfortable. The very
carriage was so heated by steam that an overcoat or hat
were quite unnecessary. A railway-rug is usually quite
unnecessary in America* I use mine only as an additional
blanket in bedv

THE EMPIRE CITY.

We arrived in New York at 6 p^m. Have made up our
minds to come to Sweeny's Hotel. A great number of
Fenian prisoners, just released on conditions of exile, are
there at present. Accordingly, we are transported thither.
In passing I admire Broadway very much, and the sleighs,
and the bells making music in the air. It is indeed a mag
nificent street. Sweeny's is a very fine hotel. From the
roof hangs a grand Irish flag — a harp on a green ground.
A great crowd of gazers throng the street, expecting to see
the Exiles. As we enter, the great hall is filled with men.
While entering my name, a young gentleman steps over
and addresses me. I recognise one of the Exiles, Charles
Underwood O'Connell, looking wonderfully well, as if his
imprisonment agreed with him. The last time I saw him
was five years ago, in the dock in Cork, from which he
saluted me. I gave him some Cork papers, with accounts
of himself and his compatriots-, for which he was very grate
ful. Next in the group I recognised General Thomas F.
Burke, who made the splendid speech in Green-street Court
house, Dublin, previous to the sentence dooming him to
death. I was present at his trial. I introduced myself.
He had heard of me. A splendid-looking fellow, and of a
gentlemanly deportment. I also found Col. John O'Mahony,
to whom I had been introduced last Summer. On the
passage upstairs I found O'Donovan Rossa, whom I also
recognised after a lapse of ten years. He remembered me,
and introduced me to his wife, a very pretty and fashionably
dressed young lady. Rossa also introduced me to Denis
Dowling Mulcahy, and we had a good deal of conversation.
In one of the evening papers, the New York Evening
Express, the following appeared under the head of " The

2 1 2 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
Fenian Exiles : Programme for- their Reception. Inter alia
Rev. Father Buckley, of Cork, and a friend arrived at
Sweeny's Hotel to-day, and have been presented to their
fellow countrymen. They had a long and pleasant interview
with the members of the Brotherhood."
This morning, January 2,ist, in the breakfast room,
found all the Fenians breakfasting at one table — a real
" Fenian Circle," as I called it when speaking with Rossa.
Was introduced to Captain McClure, who distinguished
himself at Kilclooney Wood.
We went off to see the Archbishop, and knowing how he
persistently refuses his patronage to all persons coming on a
mission such as ours, we apprehended that we too would be re
fused the privilege. We were ushered into a drawingroom and
sent up our cards. The Archbishop soon presented himself
and was extremely gracious in his manner. I explained the
object of our visit. He replied that requests such as ours
were the greatest difficulty he had to encounter. They were
of daily occurrence, &c, &c, and it seemed to be a matter of
trifling importance whether he granted permission or not,
for priests whom he had refused had gone and collected in
spite of him. I replied that we would be incapable of doing
anything unbecoming the dignity of priests or gentlemen,
when His Grace paid me the compliment of saying, "Indeed,
Mr. Buckley, you need not tell me that." Finally, wonder
ful to relate, he granted us full permission to prosecute the
object of our mission in New York, and wound up by saying
that he should have us to dine on an early day. He also
said he owed a great deal to Bishop Delaney, whose hospi
tality he had received, etcetera. This was joyful news for us.
We visited Mr. Eugene O'Sullivan, of Wall Street, who

THE " A THENS OF AMERICA." 2 1 3

entertained us at his house at Long Branch, last summer, and
he is agreeably surprised to see us. In conversing with him,
he confirmed what I had heard elsewhere, that in theCatholic
Churches on Sundays you can observe that the vast majority
of the congregation are persons who have emigrated from
Ireland, but that very few are to be found who were born in
this country of Irish parents. Does the Catholic religion
then grow weaker in the breasts of the Irish-Americans from
generation to generation ? Father Charles McCready and
Father O'Connell, of Chiselhurst spent the evening- with
me. February 4th. — Dined with the Fenian Exiles this- evening ;
it was quite a banquet. The gentleman who invited me- was
Charles U. O'Connell. When he saluted me from the dock
five years ago, I little thought I would be dining with him
in New York.
February $th. — We paid several visits to-day. Amongst
the other persons we visited Father Fecker, the founder of
the Paulists, of whom I have made mention more than once
already. On the subject of lectures he does not hold out
to me much prospect of success. He says it is very hard to
organize a lecture for a foreign object in New York, and
suggests that I should engage myself as a lecturer to priests
for some parochial charitable object, at a certain sum for
each lecture. Father O'Connell, of Chislehurst, spent the
evening with me and amused me a>good deal by his- views of
America ; like myself, he is surprised at the abundance of
turkey consumed here. The commonest dish in America
seems to be roast turkey. Fowl of all kind is general, but
the turkey is the piece de resistance. And very good turkeys
they rear, large and fat At dinner there is seldom more

2i4 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
than one joint, and in nine cases out of ten it is a roast
turkey. Nothing particular occurred until Thursday, February 9th,
when we had the procession in honour of the Fenians. It
was a very remarkable pageant, the whole city was astir all the
morning, and crowds were assembling in front of our hotel
to catch a view ofthe Exiles. They are fourteen in number,
and O'Donovan Rossa is regarded as their head and repre
sentative. At 12.30 o'clock they were to leave the hotel for
Tammany Hall. A little before that hour they assembled in
a parlour upstairs. I joined them there. I was introduced
to Colonel Roberts, one of those who had taken a very pro
minent part in the Fenian movement at its inception in this
country. When all was ready Mr. Connolly invited me to
join him in a carriage. I accepted the invitation. Our
carriage was first, and contained besides me and Mr. C,
O'Donovan Rossa and General Tom Burke. About
ten other carriages followed. The enthusiasm of the
people as the cortege moved slowly on was intense.
Several men put their hands in through the carriage and
shook hands with Rossa and Burke. One in a soldier's
uniform cried, " Which is General Burke ? " and when he was
informed he seized the General's hand and looked at him
most lovingly. " General," said he, "lama soldier," and
he kept loosing the General's hand and seizing it again for a
long time, saying, " Burke, General, I love you." He was
then made acquainted with Rossa, whose hand he shook,
but Burke was his favourite, and he said so. It reminded me
of the passage in The Old Curiosity Shop — "Short is good
— but I cottons to Codlin."
We reached Tammany Hall in due time, and there was

THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 215
a dense and uproarious crowd. The moment the Exiles
appeared the cheers were simply deafening, and the enthu
siasm indescribable. Richard O' Gorman took the chair,
and made an oration. He speaks well, has a fine voice and'
good delivery. He welcomed the Exiles to America, and
shook hands with them through Rossa. John Mitchel, whom
I here saw for the first time, also spoke, addressing the Exiles
as " Fellow Felons." There were cries for Burke and Rossa,
and both spoke. Then the Hall was cleared and the pro
cession formed. Union Square was close by, and there was
a constant booming of cannon which were stationed there.
I can give no idea of the crowd that blocked up the space
here. The papers set down the whole crowd of on-lookers
through the city as 300,000. I did not take part in the
procession, but took up my place in a magnificent establish
ment in Broadway with my new friend, Father O'Connell.
It was a great holiday for the Irish. The houses in many
places had flags and other decorations. The heads of
numerous horses were ornamented with green ribbons ;
people carried small green flags in their hands or rosettes in
their coats. Many young ladies were dressed all in green.
The men had green neckties. Banners with " God Save
Ireland " hung out in many places. As the procession passed
women screamed with joy, and waved their white handker
chiefs. It was a day of pride and jubilee. The spectacle
of the procession was very imposing indeed. The police
matched at the front of it, and at the rear several regiments,
and patriotic societies with their bands joined. The Exiles
were in open carriages, and had to keep constantly returning
the salutations of the crowd. All traffic was stopped in the
streets as the procession passed, and by that singular magic

2 1 6 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
by which the police everywhere extort obedience, the people
lined the pathways and left the whole centre clear. The
processionists rode in carriages or walked. Civic authorities
were there in full insignia. Numerous bands of boys marched
clad in a peculiar and picturesque costume, and evidently
boiling over with patriotism, though most of them never saw
Ireland. There were several carriages containing coloured
officers and soldiers who had fought in the war, and who shared
!n the procession as fellow victims of oppression with the
Irish, now breathing the pure air of American freedom.
They were received as they passed with striking manifesta
tions of respect. The mayor reviewed the procession as it
passed the City Hall, where the thunders of a smart can
nonade typified the shouts of American welcome. Strange
coincidence — almost at that moment Queen Victoria was
opening the Session of Parliament and proposing measures
for securing peaceful relations between England and America.
"While the cannon," says the paper, "in front ofthe City
Hall, within a stone's throw of our office, were thundering
their war-like welcome to, the great passing Fenian pro
cession, we were receiving despatches from London and
from Washington, the whole purport of which is a new
entente cordiale between England and the United States."
It struck us as a most extraordinary concurrence of
events, that while hearing this warlike thunder of the Fenian
cannon, we should be reading those lightning despatches
from the foggy Thames and the frozen Potomac — from
President Grant and Queen Victoria. "Let us have peace."
There were two rather remarkable carriages in the procession.
One was a fantastically-fashioned barouche, drawn by six
bay horses, of whom the four leaders were tandem, and all

THE EMPIRE CITY. 217
were decorated beautifully — banners gold-mounted and the
reins white. This was the carriage of the celebrated Helm-
bold, the druggist, of "Buchu" notoriety. The other
carriage was simply an Irish jaunting car, of which I am told
there are only two in all New York. The music of the
bands was bad, and the men did not seem to have the bold
bearing or the elastic step of their brethren, at home in the
Green Isle. On the whole the procession was grand, and it
clearly proved that the love of Ireland and the hatred of
England is undying in the Irish breast all the world over.
To me nothing appeared so remarkable as the part the
police took in the procession. In Ireland they are regarded
as the enemies of the people, and dare not take part in any
popular demonstration, but are rather ordered to look out
for disorders and to repress them, if necessary, by the extreme
rigour of the musket. There the police joined in the pro
cession, and seemed proud of the honour. It is no wonder
that Irishmen should love America, where they, once the
victims of barbarous tyranny, breathe a free air, and bask
in the sunshine of protection beneath the aegis of universal
emancipation. Dined to-day on board the "Tripoli," a Cunard steamer, at
the invitation ofthe purser, Mr. Ambrose Shea, son of the late
Mr. John Shea, once Mayor of Cork. We had a jolly snug
little party; some ofthe officers of the ship dined with us.
February loth. — Great exultation amongst the Irish about
the success of yesterday's demonstration. The waiter who
helped me at breakfast asked, how did I like it ? I answered
" It was splendid." He asked, " Did you ever see anything
like it?" This " ever " vexes me. " Yes sir, we are a great
people."

218 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
February nth. — Father Maguire, of St. Paul's, Brooklyn,
has asked me to preach in his church to-morrow, so I cross
to Brooklyn by steamer. The ferryboat finds great difficulty
in crossing on account of the immense quantities of ice in
the river. In the middle of the day the ice was so compact
that several people walked across. At the flow ofthe tide the
ice increases ; at the ebb, otherwise. It floats down from
the Hudson and East Rivers.
February \2th. — I preach on "Christian Hope" at Mass;
the snowiest morning I ever saw. How the people came to
Mass astonishes me ; yet there was a large congregation.
By the way, every change of climate here is called a storm —
if it rains or snows, it is a " storm " — I mean of course any
change from good to bad.
Father O'Reilly, one of Father Maguire's assistants, tells
us a funny thing. He had said early Mass, after which he is
accosted in the vestry room by a man who is accompanied
by a woman. The man has the appearance of a sailor.
Man says, " Say, do you run this machine ? "
" No," says Father O'Reilly.
" Then you're the foreman, I guess."
" No ; what do you want ? " asks the priest.
" What do I want ? Why this lady and I want to get
married right away."
The conversation turned on American institutions. All
agreed in what has been already stated, that corruption
rules everything. A man may murder another with impunity,
if he has money enough to bribe the judge. The judge is
elected by a political party. Rather than displease the
party who elected him, he will yield to the mild influence
of interposition, provided the certain number of dollars be

THE EMPIRE CITY. 219
rubbed to his judicial fist Great freedom of religion — free
dom to all. Hence the great number of churches, for every
man may have a view of religion different from another, and
start a theological theory, and open a church, and appoint a
minister of his own. In one street in Brooklyn, perhaps a
mile long, there are sixteen churches.
Went to the Cooper Institute to hear Mrs. O'Donovan
Rossa read for the benefit of the widow of J. J. Geavny
(a Cork Fenian) who died here by falling into a boiling vat of
soap. A crammed and most enthusiastic house — General
Tom Burke in the chair. The lady was beautifully dressed,
green being the predominant colour. Every poem she read
had, of course, a highly national complexion, and the telling
points evoked furious rounds of applause. A lady from
Cork whom I knew at home as Miss O'Brien (Mrs. Pollick)
sang at the piano. ' A gentleman named Waters came for
ward and recited " Shamus O'Brien," but he ridiculed the
Irish accent so unmercifully that he was hissed, and scouted
off the stage. In one of the intervals there was loud cries
for " Rossa." He at length came forward, and said he was
not going to make a speech. "Deeds, not words" was his
motto, but he would read a letter he had just received from
a gentleman, addressed to his wife (Mrs. Rossa). The writer
was Mr. Basford, and he presented a cheque for fifty dollars
for the object of the meeting. Loud cheers for Basford,
the modest, retiring, unselfish Basford. But lo ! a gentleman
steps forward, kisses hands to the audience. This is the
modest Basford, advertising himself. He writes a letter, (1)
presents his compliments, (2) presents his cheque, (3) pre
sents himself. But modesty is a virtue unknown in Yankee-
dom. Behold another sample of it. There are loud cries of

220 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
" Roberts, Roberts ! " This is the famous Colonel Roberts,
once the head of a Fenian split of a split. I learn afterwards
that the gallant Colonel had a lot of fellows paid to call on
him. The air was filled with cries of " Roberts," and at last
the Chairman came forward and asked was Colonel Roberts
in the hall. The Colonel, who was at one of the doors
modestly concealed, then marched up the whole length of
the hall, appeared on the platform, took off his outside coat,
and with a voice of thunder made a rattling speech on
" Irish Nationality." He gave, all the old claptrap, " these
gallant heroes," " England's accursed tyranny," " Ireland's
imperishable rights,, founded on the principles of God's
eternal justice," &c, &c, all well committed to memory. He
paced the stage, and if England saw him then she would
have trembled for her very existence. All this was a bid for
the Irish vote ! All got up by the astute Colonel himself.
Curious engraftation on the programme of the evening, but
puffing and advertising is the great Yankee notion. General
Burke in returning thanks to every one, thanked Mr. Weber
for the loan of his splendid piano. Good for Weber.
Fenians, buy your pianos at Weber's ! The gent who was
hissed for " Shamus O'Brien" comes forward, one would
think to apologise ; but no, it was a mere little bit of trade : —
"Ladies and gentlemen, I beg to inform you that a full
report of this evening's proceedings will appear in to-morrow
evening's Globe," and so closed the proceedings. I
adjourned to Mrs. Attridge's and, late for the cars, slept at
Father Mooney's.
I go in the afternoon with Father Crowley to his place at
Huntington, Long Island. We go by ferryboat to Hunter's
point, and thence by rail two hours' ride, to Huntington. The

THE EMPIRE CITY.

ground is almost all covered with snow. Father Crowley
pointed out to me as we passed along a very large tract of
ground which the millionaire Stewart, New York, has pur
chased, and which he is laying out for the purpose of
building a city on it. Big idea that ; big idea. That reminds
me of another American phrase, "We had a big time," i.e.,
a very jolly time. Again: — "We had quite a time," may
mean the same thing, or " we had a great row about some
thing." "I intend to make a time about that," means I
intend to make trouble about it. When parting with a
friend at the door of one's house he says, "Good bye,
you'll call again, won't you ? " or " You'll call again when
you're around ? "
At Father Crowley's I had the great pleasure of meeting
my dear friends, Helena and Caroline MacSweeny, who
are living with him, and whom I had not met for the last
ten years. Time, I am glad to say, had not diminished their
amiability. They were very glad to see me, and we " had
quite a time."
February 21st.— It snowed through the night, and we were
all day confined to the house with the exception of a few
hours after dinner, when Father Crowley and I drove out.
The village is small and the place lonely. Now in winter it
is desolate— in summer it must look well. No gas for
3,000 inhabitants. A very neat chapel is just finished, built
by Father Crowley. He is a very good fellow. His driving
costume was queer — a bearskin cap, chamois riding-gloves,
a bearskin rug, he smoking a cigar the whole way. Ground
very snowy and wet, and roads bad and sloppy. Queer
names of places here, such as "Bull's Hollow," "Bread and
Cheese Hollow," "Mutton Hollow," &c, &c Had to

222 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
stand a long catechising from the girls ; had to give them
news of a whole decade of years, for the place is remote from
the world, and few write to them.
February 22nd. — Ash-Wednesday, Washington's birthday
— a fast day and a feast. Business suspended through the
States — shops closed, flags floating in the breeze, and bands
playing through the streets. I came home at 3.30 p.m.,
and arrived at New York at 6. Letter from a friend telling
me of the rumour at home that I have been appointed canon.
It is only a rumour, but to me it is a matter of very great
indifference. I would not give ten dollars for the honour.
I spend the evening quietly at home. No new impressions
gained, but old ones strengthened. Thus there is very little
social enjoyment in America, and such as does exist is
generally fast and wild, a violent outburst. The pervading
idea everywhere is the dollar above and beyond all things.
I spent the evening at the house of a family named
McCarthy, Third Avenue, all from Cork, nephews and niece
of Mr. Charles McCarthy, Grand Parade, Cork. We enjoyed
ourselves \txy much. On arriving home I heard that the
celebrated Captain Mackey and wife had arrived. I sent
word to them asking where and when I could have the
pleasure of an interview. They replied, immediately in their
sitting-room. Poor Mackey looks very much the worse for
wear. He seems to be a very excellent character, mild,
gentlemanly, religious, unassuming and warm-hearted. Mrs.
Mackey was delighted to see me. She observes that I look
not half as healthy as I did at home. I got some letters from
her through Miss Cox ; one from Miss Cox herself I read with
great interest before retiring to rest
February 2yd. — Stayed within doors all day preparing my

THE EMPIRE CITY.

lecture for the Boston Theatre. Had a visit from Mr. B.
Devlin, of Montreal, who came to invite me Xa lecture in
that city in or about Patrick's Day. He wishes me to
deliver an address on Patrick's Day to an Irish Society of
which he is president. All right, I go from Boston after
my lecture there on the 12th prox.
New York, and the United States generally, is a great
place for slang. Various phrases without much meaning are
soon picked up, and become quite common. At present
there are two phrases afloat, viz. — "How is that for high ? "
and "you know how it is yourself." The former is used in
this manner : — Suppose, for example, you tell a person that
you have met some piece of good fortune, or that something
has happened to flatter your pride, or to be a subject of con
gratulation, you exclaim, "How is that for high?" The
second phrase is the burden of a popular song, and is very
frequently used. Thus, when you are telling something to
a person and you do not wish to tell it all, either because
he understands it or because you don't care that the by
standers should learn all about it, you say, " You know how
it is yourself." I do not know whether or not in the early
part of this book I made mention of a song which was in
the mouths of everyone on the whole continent ot America
last summer, it is called " Shoo fly." What the words signify,
or pretend to signify, I could never learn ; but meaning
seemed to be a matter of no consideration. The burden of
the song was simply unintelligible, but the air was pretty.
Everyone had it — ladies played it on the piano, and boys
whistled it in the streets. New fashions in dress, new articles
of attire, were called by the name of " Shoo fly." There
were " Shoo fly neckties," and " Shoo fly hats," and potatoes

, 224 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
in hotels were dressed in a peculiar way and called in the
bill of fare, "Shoo fly potatoes." Here is the whole
song: — I feel, I feel, I feel,
I feel like a morning star.
I feel, I feel, I feel,
I feel like a morning star.
Shoo fly don't bother me,
Shoo fly, don't bother me,
Shoo fly, don't bother me,
I belong to the Company G.
There's music in the air,
My mother said to me ;
There's music in the air,
My mother said to me.
Shoo fly, don't bother me,
Shoo fly, don't bother me,
Shoo fly; don't bother me,
I belong to the Company G.
It was translated into French and German, and sung in
those languages, and in many more, for aught I know.
The stranger in New York, and probably in other parts
of America, is struck by the great number of military men in
civil costume whom he meets every day. Nearly every
second man is a general, a captain, a colonel, or a lieutenant.
In the British Isles we associate the idea of an officer with
what is generally understood as a gentleman — a person of
good breeding, high education, fine person and easy man
ners. Here it is different. I have seen a colonel keeping
a gin shop, and a major setting type. Passing Sweeny's
hall I encounter a group of men dressed as artisans, one of
whom knows me. He at once introduces me to the rest.
One is captain, another major, a third colonel, and so on.

THE EMPIRE CITY. 225
I find myself at once in the society of the elite of the
American army. They are fine honest fellows, but their
discourse is not of war or peace, or military operations. I
have no doubt they are generous and brave, and as fitted
for their parts as your " gentlemen," who do the strategy of
England ; but to one brought up to the English notions of
military men, the contrast between the officers of the two
countries is striking and somewhat amusing. I was in the
Irish Democrat office yesterday, talking to Mr. Stephen Joseph
Meany, the editor. He introduced me to a gentleman who
sat at a table, and whom I took for sub-editor, though per
haps, fer aught I know, he was only clerk ; but whatever
the gentleman was he was a major. Soon came in another
gentleman, whom I recognised; he was a colonel. One
cannot help being amused at seeing those military men
looking so very civil, and engaged in the ordinary avocations
of society, when he would rather expect to behold men of
portly presence, farouche aspect, and that indescribable
bearing which is generally understood as the air militaire.
The horrible habit of chewing tobacco is carried to great
excess in America, and involves great filth. The first time
I witnessed it was in the steamer coming from Queenstown.
A fine handsome fellow from Alabama comes on deck while
I was chatting with a Miss Badger, of Philadelphia, and he
says to her — " Do you know anyone that has tobacco ? I
want some to chew. I have tried to write some important
letters in the cabin, and I can't do it without a chew." I
was disgusted, especially at the idea of a gentleman talking
of such a thing to a lady ; but that was nothing. Crossing the
ferry in one of those large ferry boats that ply to Brooklyn,
you pass through the ladies' cabin. Everything is clean, and
Q

226 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
the air is sweet ; but pass through the " gents' cabin," and
the atmosphere is disgusting, and the floor is an abomination.
Man approaches very close to the brute. The heat of the
stove and the fumes of tobacco make the air perfectly unen
durable, while the floor reeks with the filthy expectorations of
weed-loving gentlemen. Fortunately gentlemen who do not
smoke enjoy the privilege of staying in the ladies' cabin if
they are so disposed, and I for one always avail myself of
that privilege. There is an article in a paper in which it is
gravely, and hence I dare say, truly stated that it is no
uncommon thing now to find receptacles for tobacco juice
in pulpits and in the pews of churches of all denominations
of the land, or if not so provided, those places are smeared
with the filthy compound. Gentlemen take tobacco into
their mouths, as men in Ireland take snuff into their noses.
In the same article "Slang in the Pulpit," a preacher is
represented as having said " Some time ago I knocked the
bottom out of hell, and now I am going to hammer away at
the sides." Another says, after laying down what he con
sidered a wholesome maxim, " Stick a pin in that." Another
on a similar occasion, " Put that in your pipe and smoke it."
A third relating an anecdote broke off at a certain point and
said, " You know how it is yourself."
Every evening some gentlemen visit me and spend an
hour or two. The man that pleases me most is Stephen
] oseph Meany . He is a person of very gentlemanly manners
and appearance, scholarly and accomplished, and a very
agreeable social companion. Other gentlemen come and
proffer their services for the promotion of my lecture. I am
very much struck by their kindness, one of them under
taking to write paragraphs for all the papers. Captain

THE EMPIRE CITY. 227
Mackay comes and spends an hour with me this evening.,
He is a remarkable person, small in appearance, but high-
souled as man could be ; capable of bloody exploits, and a
planner of daring " raids," yet almost monastic in his
religious habits and style of living.
March $th. — Come by train to Boston. Am visited by
Mr. John White. Hear Mass at the Church of the
Immaculate Conception. A very fine church and most
respectable congregation, admirable music, and first-rate
¦sermon from Father Fulton, S.J. I was very much pleased
with the whole thing. I saw at Mass Doctor and Mrs. Salter.
I met them coming out, and they introduced me to Doctor
Marshal, an English convert of some considerable fame, an
-Oxford man, and author of a clever work entitled, History of
-Christian Missions, and a publication that caused great amuse
ment a few years ago, viz., — The Comedy of Convocation.
If there be one thing more admirable than another in
this country, it is that no man is ashamed to labour, and no
kind of labour is despised. Also that you may associate
with any man, and bring any man into any company, and
all are " gentlemen." You may sit down and eat and drink
with the coachman who drives you, and introduce the gentle
man to every one around. Men of wealth are always " boast
ing " how they began life with nothing. How they became
:shoe-blacks, or tailor's apprentices, or newsboys, and crept
up into wealth. And somehow in society you discover no
classes of rank. All men seem to commingle on a broad
common ground. The conversation to be sure is not above
the reach of the humblest intellect— but the manners of all
are polite, and the poorest man is bold and independent,
and speaks correctly and with force.

228 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
March nth — Nothing particular. I kept myself as quiet
as possible. The weather is delightful, and I walk every
day in the common and public gardens, " the finest in the
world, yes, sir ! "
March 12th. — My lecture came off this evening in the
Boston Theatre. The audience was immense and looked
really magnificent. Twenty Cork ladies and gentlemen
drove in an immense carriage with four horses from Salem
to Boston to hear me, 1 5 miles. I had a great gathering in
my room after the lecture — those twenty and some twenty
more. Some witty things were said, for we Cork people
are witty. The best was by John White. He has a great
habit of saying " like a tiger ;" it is an amplification, a super
lative of his. We were speaking of niggers, and he said he
met a nigger once who spoke Irish " like a tiger."
" And, John," said I, '¦' did you ever hear a tiger speak
Irish?" " To be sure I did."
" What kind of a tiger ? " I asked.
" Why, an Irish tiger, of course."
The lecture was for the Vincent de Paul Society, and must
have realised a large sum.
I waited on Bishop Williams to thank him for his patronage
of us and our cause. He was very agreeable and pleasing.
Went to see some other friends and then came home. Had
a visit from Mr. Ambrose Shea, purser of the " Batavia,"
with whom I dined, in his ship, at New York, February 9th.
He has been twice across the Atlantic since. He was
accompanied by Dr. Johnson of the same ship, and they
invited me to come and see them to-morrow on board the
vessel.

"A PRIESTLY FENIAN" 229

CHAPTER IX.

March i$th. — Left Boston at 8 a.m. for Montreal, a
distance of over 300 miles, a very long journey ; it took four
teen hours. The day, however, was beautiful, and the scenery
after the first hundred miles, and especially through Vermont,
was charming. The soil for the most part appears to be
thin and poor. There was little vegetation and no verdure.
There were fine large rivers and mountains, many of which
were wooded to a great height. I fancy in summer the
scenery here is very fine. I had been introduced to a gentle
man, Judge Woodbury, who sat with me for a few hours.
He was in great glee over the result of the elections for New
Hampshire the day before ; the Democrats had obtained a
large majority, an event that had not happened for the last
sixteen years. The Judge was an ardent Democrat and
himself a Senator for the State of Massachusetts. Wherever
we went, whatever station we touched, the excitement was
•the same. Newsboys all flocked into the cars crying. " The
Monitor," " All about the elections," or some other exclama
tions of the same kind. The people in the trains could talk
of nothing else. The point of the thing was that it took
everyone by surprise, Democrats themselves as well as
Republicans. I as an outsider was very much amused by
all this, and was sorry I could not take a livelier interest in
it.

230 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.

I was struck as we passed along by the strange names of
some places. One station bore the name of Canaan, another
of East Lebanon, relics of Puritan fervour, but we had no
sooner passed the Canadian frontier than we were met by
St. Alban's, St Alexander, St. John, &c, a new style of
nomenclature, indicating certainly a more Christian tone cf
feeling than Puritanism in those who named them.
St. Alban's is on the St. Lawrence, which I see for the
second time to-day. Oh, the weary journey. The Grand
Tnmk Railway on which we get here is very rough and
uncomfortable. I have heard the same before and can
endorse it
I reach Montreal at 9.50, and am located in my hotel at
10 p.m. Two gentiemen on the part of Mr. Devlin wait on
me, Messrs. Doranand Egan. Where is Mr. Devlin himself?
I have some supper in my room, and retire for the night
In the United States there is constant hurry, activity, ex
citement — money-making always going on, every one trying
to make the dollar. Nothing save the dollar is respected,
and it is wonderful how many very rich men are everywhere.
There is no street in which you will not find a man worth
thousands, tens of thousands, a million of dollars. Nothing
is so common as to hear a person say. " Do you see that
man ? That, man, sir, is worth a million and a half of dol
lars."5 Of another, " That man. sir, twenty years ago was a
newsboy, a shoeblack, or filled some other low occupation,
he was not worth a cent ; now, sir, he is worth two millions
of dollars."
Men of business habits — and that includes nearly all
Americans — do not care how much time they speEd at their
business. One man, an Irishman, said to me of his employer :

"A PRIESTLY FENIAN" 231
"That man, sir, never stops thinking of his business — the
only day he feels miserable is Sunday, because he must go to
church, and cannot be in his store. Last summer he had a
nice house at the seaside ; his wife and family stayed there
for some months, but nothing could induce him to spend
one whole day there, except Sunday. He would go down
every evening at 5 or 6 and be up again to business next
day ; yet, sir, there is no counting what that man is worth,
he must be worth some millions of dollars, but he is as
avaricious to make more as if he had not a cent." At a
Masquerade Ball lately at St. Louis, a lady appeared dressed
in the character of the " Almighty Dollar." The reader's
imagination must supply the style of costume, but the lady
illustrated the theology of the age and country.
March 16th. — Left St. Lawrence Hall and transferred
myself and baggage to St. Patrick's, where I met again my
old friends of last summer. The day was very wet, and
strange to say it rained and froze at the same time. During
a short time that I was out, I was obliged to raise my um
brella, and when I endeavoured to close it, I found it
impossible, for the rain had been frozen on it, and made it
quite rigid. This was a kind of thing I never saw before.
I had a visit from Mr. Devlin. He seems warm about my
speech to-morrow evening.
March 17th. — St. Patrick's Day. A very great day in
Montreal. A very great day in every city in America. A
very great day anywhere but in Ireland. Before I go down
stairs, I am presented with a magnificent shamrock, the
present of some unknown friend. There is to be a great
procession, with bands and banners, consisting of several
Irish societies. They are to meet at Mass in St. Patrick's

-332 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
church, and form there when Mass is over. Accordingly at
10 o'clock there are great symptons of preparations. The
sound of music is heard, the well known anthem of " Patrick's
Day" floats on the breeze, and the bandsmen in a variety
of costumes, halt before the church gate to finish the tune.
Crowds are assembled without, and evidently enjoy the
gathering pageant. Within we have a considerable accession
of clergy from various places, and their number is swelled
by an accident. On Sunday next, the new Bishop of Quebec
is to be consecrated, and many of the clergy from the West,
bound thereto, halt there to join in the ceremonial of the
day. Conspicuous amongst them are two bishops, the Most
Rev. Dr. Pinsonnanet, Bishop of Hyacinthe, and Bishop
Farrell of Hamilton. The students of the seminary, all
clerical elcves, also are present. High Mass is about to be
sung, Bishop Pinsonnanet is to sing it, a very handsome
old gentleman with a fresh countenance, and grey hair. The
church is thronged, and the bands enfilade up the nave playing
the national air. This has a thrilling effect. The members of
several Irish societies are present, each with a collar of velvet
and gold. A messenger summons me from the sanctuary.
I meet Mr. Devlin, who wishes to introduce me to the mayor,
Mr. Coursal, who is decorated with the civic chain, and is a
Catholic. When the church is full it contains about 8,000
persons, and it is crammed to-day. I had no idea there
would be so magnificent an audience, and that the spectacle
would be so splendid. The green banners give a grand
aspect to the scene, and the shamrock decorates every
breast. The Mass was beautifully sung, and the effect was
greatly improved by a solo on the organ at the offertory of
a pure Irish character — nothing less than the " Minstrel

"A PRIESTLY FENIAN" 233
Boy." The sermon was by Father Hogan, of St. Anne's.
At the end of the Mass the procession began to form. The
weather had been wet, and the ground is covered with
hard snow since last December. Hence under foot it is all
wet and slushy, and walking without slipping is a matter of
considerable difficulty. But I must walk ; so I accompany
Father Dowd and Father Singer, who march in their sou
tanes, and have bearskin caps on their heads. I slipped
once or twice, and this puts me on my guard. I take
Father Dowd's arm, and even so, get on with great
trouble. It was the most difficult three miles I ever walked,
and the dirtiest. Such a state as my clothes were in ! Oh,
holy St. Patrick, what did I ever do, that you should treat
me so ? It was, nevertheless, a grand procession ; the
music was excellent, and in some places there were triumphal
arches, with legends indicative of the blended feelings in
the breast of religion and nationality. The spectators and
gazers from windows enjoyed it as it passed along ; but
there was no shouting, no disorder. I asked if this proces
sion gave offence to any party. No ; on the contrary, all
classes of people liked it, and would be greatly disappointed
if it did not take place. I looked in vain for a drunken
man. Strange to say, drunkenness is almost unknown in
Montreal, and even in all Canada. This is very creditable
to our people, and clearly proves that there is nothing in
the national character incompatible with temperance.
In the evening there was a grand concert in St. Patrick's
Hall, Mr. Devlin presiding. There must have been 2,000
people in the Hall. At the right of the chairman sat
General Dart, U.S. Consul to Canada, and at the left was
myself. I found that an address was to be delivered by the

234 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
Rev. M. B. Buckley, in the second part of the programme.
During the intermission, Gen. Dart was called on, and said
a few words. Then my turn came. It was a difficult audi
ence to address, Catholics and Protestants, Irish and Cana
dians — some in favour of British Government, others opposed
to it. I was loud on Irish religion and patriotism, and
"death" on English tyranny. I had my audience in the
best of humour. After the speech I retired to get a drink
of water, when a gentleman pressed my arm. I turned
round, saw a handsome young fellow in full dress, and
gazing at me with a pair of sparkling black eyes. " Turgeon,"'
I exclaimed. He was no other than the young lawyer
whom I met in the steamer " Georgia " from Quebec to
Pictou last August. Our greeting was of the warmest
description. He had come to the concert solely to meet
me, having seen it announced that I was to deliver an
address. We make an engagement for to-morrow and sepa
rate. After the concert there are refreshments for the elite.
The people here are so like our own in their manners and
habits, and so different from the people in the States. Con
sidering everything, the day was a success for Montreal.
Sunday, March igth. — Preached to-day in St. Patrick's-
church. After dinner the two brothers Burke waited on me
with a carriage and pair of horses, and we had a very
pleasant drive "round the mountain." The aspect of the
day was very winteryish, and the air cold : but I was
" wrapped snug from those biting pneumatics," and enjoyed
the drive very much. On some parts ofthe road the snow
was piled up four feet high at each side of the carriage, and
must wait for the heat of summer to dissolve it. We returned
by the St. Lawrence, which was frozen across the whole way

"A PRIESTLY FENIAN." 235
from bank to bank, with ice three feet deep. It has not
broken up yet, although I heard it had been. It appears
that people do not desist any year from crossing it until
some persons are drowned. I spent the evening with the
Burkes and their two' sisters. We talked a good deal of
D'Arcy Magee. John Burke made me a present of a short,
sketch of his life, which I intend to read. The Irish in
Canada are very content, pay little taxes, desire no change,.
at least the masses ; it is only a class seek for annexation.
March 20th. — A flaming leader in this morning's Gazette
headed " A Reverend Firebrand," blowing up my speech of
St. Patrick's night in coarse and bitter language. The article
is about a column and a half long. It accuses me of creat
ing mischief by appealing to the bad passions of my fellow
countrymen here by ripping up old national sores, such as
my allusion to " 700 years of wrong," et cetera. The article
is very severe, and I am sorry that I should hurt the feelings
of anyone in this city ; but it admits that my speech pleased
my audience. Passing through town I find myself the ob
served of all observers. It is not my frieze coat now that
attracts attention, although that is remarkable enough, but
there is quite a furore amongst the people, at least amongst
the English part of them, in consequence of my speech, and
I am the hero of the hour. It is the event, the " sensation"
of the day. I have been called in the papers " a firebrand,"
"an incendiary," "a hare-brained agitator," and a great deal
more of the same kind. It appears that several Protestant
gentlemen left precipitately after my speech, and those who
remained have been severely censured by their friends for so
doing. The Catholics are most indignant that a Catholic
priest should be assailed in this manner. When a Methodist

236 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
or Swaddler comes and lectures here he may speak as much
treason as he likes. Lately a Protestant clergyman of this
city, in the course of a lecture rebuked England much more
severely than I did, and yet there was no comment too
laudatory for his harangue ; but a priest is at once pounced
upon by those lions of the Press, and his words and conduct
are shown up to the contempt and scorn of the world. In
fact I am informed that nothing has occurred in Montreal
for a long time that has so much stirred up the strife of party
as this. The Gazette exhorted my friends to drop me, to
give me no further patronage, but my friends are not going
to take the advice ofthe enemy.
The want of a Catholic paper is greatly felt in Montreal.
There is a Catholic weekly, the True Witness. D'Arcy
Magee also had a paper here, but it died after a year. His
election to the Parliament of Canada withdrew his pen from
the city, and the paper could not be conducted by another.
Mr. Devlin made an attempt to start one, but failed ; but
now again they talk of it more vigorously than ever. There
are several English dailies, many French-Canadians, one at
least Scotch, and yet with a Catholic population of about
30,000 there is not a Catholic daily paper in Montreal. This
evening the Star calls upon other papers to take the tone of
the Gazette, and gives a letter from some correspondent who
accuses me of justifying agrarian murder. This is too much.
When your enemy forsakes the ground of legitimate argument
and seeks to crush you by lies and caluminous inventions, he
defeats himself and saves you the trouble of an encounter.
From all this I conclude that party feeling runs very high
here, that the same feeling of bitterness on account of
religion prevails here as it does in Ireland, and that unfor-

 "A PRIESTLY FENIAN" 237
tunately the Irish lack that blessing of cohesion which would
make them a compact body, a phalanx of strength, and thus
a terror to their enemies.
At St. Patrick's there is a comic servant, Patrick, from
Nenagh. He is general servant, and I meet him every
morning when he helps me to breakfast. He is the purest
Paddy I ever met, appearance, accent — all ; but his peculiar
phrases and style of speaking are most amusing^ He says
something new and strange every day. " Take an egg, sir," he
says one morning, "that beefsteak is no good — take an egg, sir.
I'll put one down for you, and the water is just in the humour."
" Pa trick, this tea is not very strong," I say.
"No, sir," says Patrick, "'tis young yet, leave it grow."
Speaking of Father Toupin, one of the priests here, a
wiry, active man, Patrick said, "Sir, he's as hardy as a
wild-duck," and of a very thin young lady he remarked that
she was " as thin as a saw." Last summer when I was here,
my slumbers every morning were disturbed by a grating
noise, at the unearthly hour of twilight, and long after. This
noise was occasioned by an old man sawing logs of wood for
firing just under my window. I spoke of the matter to
Patrick, and he said, " The deuce take the old corncrake."
I was vastly amused because the lively imagination of Patrick
just struck off a good idea of the noise which I had in my
own mind, but could not realize, as he did. After one of my
sermons, Father Leclair said to him, " Well, Patrick, what
do you think of Father Buckley ? "
"Lave me alone, sir, he's a terror ! "
His description of the cold of a Canadian winter was
vivid, but I could not transcribe it, for it was conveyed more
in gesture than words.

2$8 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
" And Patrick," said I, last summer, "I am told that the
River St. Lawrence is quite frozen over in winter so that
people. can walk across it for months."
" To be sure, sir," says he, " there's not a word of lie in
it, and I can tell you its no joke to freeze that river with the
•current that's running through it. It begins to freeze about
•Christmas, and the ice is thin for some days ; but about
New Year's Day there comes two or three days wicked, and
there it is bound up as tight as a drum-head till Patrick's
Day, and often longer."
One of the clergymen here told me an amusing anecdote.
He was for some time travelling through a portion of the
Western States of America, and one Sunday morning he
celebrated Mass in the open air, for the benefit of some Irish
navvies who were making a railroad in that " section."
During the. ceremony, whenever he turned towards the
people he observed a tall Yankee, standing against a tree,
smoking his pipe, and seeming to take a great interest in the
proceedings. When Mass was over, the Yankee came up to
him, and said with the usual nasal twang :
" Friend, it takes considerable of a smart man to do a
thing of that kind; I guess you could not do it again?"
" Oh ! dear, yes," said the priest, " I will just do the same
to-morrow morning, if you come you can see and judge for
yourself. " The Yankee's amazement was so great, and he
gave vent to his feelings in the usual local expression of
astonishment, " Waal, I do declare."
March 22nd. — Left Cork Harbour ten months ago this
day. How quickly those ten months have fled.
Patrick is as usual amusing at breakfast. He pours out
the tea with his left hand. " Paddy's left," says he, " is his

"A PRIESTLY FENIAN'' 239
bully hand," and when he places the butter on the table he
says le bare (beurre), imitating the French which he hears so
constantly spoken at table. When I was done breakfast he
exclaimed, Tout finit. But in all these sayings of our
Hibernian valet, the real humour consists not so much in
the things said as in the way in which he says them.
I forgot to tell you of the strange circumstances of my
meeting very frequently one gentleman, and only one who
travelled with me across the Atlantic last summer. He is a
young gentleman named " Tolley." We met him first at the
pier of Toronto, next in St. John's, N.B., thirdly in Boston,
which he left for some months and found us again on his
return. Last Wednesday morning while I was seated at
breakfast at the St. Lawrence Hall, Montreal, I was tapped
on the shoulder, and on turning round saw my friend Mr.
Tolley. We were both astonished at the circumstance, for it
was singular that he and I alone should meet of all the pas
sengers. March 2-,rd. — I did not know until this morning the
flattering epithets bestowed upon me at some loyal festive
gathering of " true blues " assembled ere-yesterday to cele
brate the wedding on that day of the Marquis of Lome with
the Princess Louisa in this good city of Montreal. A
Reverend Dr. Burns called me a "priestly Fenian," and the
other speakers intimated that now while a strenuous effort
was being made to broach disloyalty, here was a becoming
occasion for the display of the opposite feeling. My even
ing was spent with Mr. Donovan, the Corkman to whom
Mr. Maguire alludes in his " Irish in America," as an instance
of what may be done by an Irishman here who relies on his
industry and temperance. Mr. Donovan is President of the

2 40 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
Temperance Societies of Montreal, a very worthy man
indeed. He told me that only one member of their society
could boast of having taken the pledge from Father Matthew,
and that man is so superstitious that he is firmly persuaded
that if he broke that pledge, God would strike him dead.
My host also amused me by telling me of an incident
that occurred while he lived at Salem, Mass. It illustrates
the absurd length to which fanatacism can carry men. Some
stray prophet announced that the end of the world was to
take place on a certain night, and that the elect were to be
taken up to heaven. The " elect " believed, and actually
gave away all their property, cleared out their houses of all
their worldly goods, reserving only a decent dress in which to
make their entrance to the Kingdom of Eternal Glory. Some
of the ladies were dressed most gorgeously. It was quite a
sight to witness the entrance to the church from which the
elect were to be translated. They spent the night in prayer,
sighs and groans, but they were not translated. Those who
gave all away found themselves paupers next morning. One
man who had been very rich consoled himself by saying the
event could not be long postponed.
March 24th. — I go by appointment at one o'clock to dine
with Doctor Kirwin. His wife is as pretty and smiling as
ever, and his wife's mother, Mrs. Gunn, a fine old lady, is
present. The only other guest besides myself is a M.
le Comte de La Riviers, a real (Canadian) French Count, a
young gentleman with all the style and bearing of an English
officer, which I really thought he was at first sight. His
black hair brushed and cut close was creased down the
middle of his head, and he wore an exuberant moustache-
The style of things and the tone of conversation as well as the

"A PRIESTLY FENIAN." 241
accent of all parties, particularly of Mrs. Kirwin and the
Count, brought me back from the democratic atmosphere of
the United States, which I had been breathing for months,
to the serener and loftier aerial surroundings of aristocratic
life, and yet aristocracy is too full of airs, it seems too hollow,
too affected to win admiration. Both phases of life-discipline,
if I may so call it, have their faults. The principal of demo
cracy is rational and good, but it is abused in the States. Every
menial flouts his equality with you in your face, but then in all
the studied speeches of the well-bred English or Canadian
gentleman, in the precision of his movements and the accuracy
of his dress, in the evidently forced chivalry by which he
devotes himself to the ladies, and in a thousand other odds
and ends by which he seems to study how to talk without
tripping, there is too much of the artificial, too much to
confine the soul and contract the heart, too much generally
understood to be insincere, which takes from the dignity of
mankind and makes friendship only a name indeed.
The Count went away early, and the Doctor took me into
his drag and gave me a long drive along the St. Lawrence
to Lachine, a drive I took last summer with the Burkes.
The river however, presented a very different appearance
now from that which it had last summer. It was thickly
frozen over, and we saw people passing across. At one
point it presented the appearance of an immense lake, five
or six miles across, on any part of which a. carriage might
drive with safety. Only at this season no one knows when
it may break up, and it would be too venturesome to try it.
The rapids were frozen, and the ice there presented the same
"face of disruption and confusion as the rapids themselves.
It seemed as if the tumbling waters had been caught and
R

242 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.

frozen at some one moment by an irresistible power of cold,
and retained in their arrest, the aspect of conflict and agony
which they had when seized. It is snowing as we ride along,
and the whole scene is as wild and wintry as could be
imagined. We drive back and I reach home about four
o'clock. The Gazette this morning has an article, a letter from a
country reader, headed " Rev. Mr. Buckley and St. Patrick's
Society," in which it speaks of me as " Priest Buckley," and
hopes that the insult offered through me to the other societies
present at my speech, will not be considered as expiated by
the castigation of me the chief culprit, but that the St.
Patrick's Society who brought me here, will apologize to all
the rest, and thus give reason to hope that the like will never
occur again.
Sunday.— Preach to-day for Father Hogan. Fine church,
and splendid congregation (Griffinstown). Have a nice
drive with Father Leclair, to Hochelaga, the eastern bank of
the St. Lawrence, which is all frozen over hard, white and
thick. Opposite, about three miles distant, is the village of
Longuiel, and I see horses drawing sleighs across the river,
foot-passengers and skaters. There is a regular road across
the river from Montreal to Longuiel. It has been there all
the winter, and seems covered over with straw and other
refuse. Return by the Wharf, where I miss the busy aspect
of the shipping which I found here last summer. Not a
small boat is to be seen. This stoppage of navigation all
through the winter and spring is a great drawback to the
prosperity of Montreal. It becomes an inland city for half
the year. Dine to-day with the Burkes, at Michael's house.
They are very good and kind. Miss Burke presents me

"A PRIESTLY FENIAN" 243
with a very handsome pair of slippers which she wrought
for me.
March 24th. — The ground is all covered with snow, but
the sun shines out gaily. After dinner, at 1 1.30 o'clock, I walk
out and call at Turgeon's offices. He soon appears, and we
have a chat. I then propose a drive in the country. Dr.
Kirwin, who keeps livery stables, told me that I might at any
time order a horse and carriage at his place. I accordingly go
and order a carriage to call at M. Turgeon's office at 3.15
o'clock. It came punctually, and we drive along, Turgeon act
ing as charioteer. He intends to take me to see the Ottawa
river, which is about five miles from Montreal. The afternoon
is very cold, but I am wrapped in my Irish frieze, and he is
still more snugly enveloped in a coat made of the skin and
fur of some wild animal. We had just passed a toll-gate
about a hundred yards when one of our shafts lost a screw
and nut, and became useless for travel. We turned back,
and the toll-keeper, an Irishman, soon got us over our diffi
culty. I doubt if any man is so ready in an emergency, or
so inventive of the means for mending it. The toll-man
cast his eyes about and saw some wire in a neighbouring
fence. He instantly cuts off some of this wire and, with it,
connects the shaft to the beam to which it had been screwed,
and, in fact, "fixes it up" as strong as ever. Offering him
many thanks, which he duly acknowledges to "your
reverence," we pursue our journey. We pass by a great
number of waggons, all driven by French-Canadians, with
whom Turgeon familiarly chats in their own tongue. They
appear to be very polite and extremely respectful to him,
not that they all know him, but that they seem to have a
great deal of that respect for aristocracy which exists among

244 -DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
the Irish peasants, and which is a relic of the feudal system.
They clear the road where he is to pass, or they halt till our
carriage passes. I thought within myself how slow a Yankee
waggoner would be to afford us so much accommodation.
Those peasants were wrapped in all kinds of clothes and
furs to protect them against the cold, but the most singular
and picturesque costume was that which many men wore, and
which I cannot better describe than by saying simply that it
was the habit of a trappist, bound round the waist with a.
sash, and with the hood stretching up to a point on the head.
Turgeon told me that the Canadian peasantry are very
simple in their manners and habits, and intense bigots in
matters of religion, being all Catholics, and having little or
no toleration for any other religion. Seldom does one of
them become addicted to habits of intoxication, and when.
such one appears he is despised and avoided. They drink
when they come to town, but seldom to excess. Their
houses are clean and their diet simple. Seldom do they
rise to the luxury of a roast turkey. Pork is the meat they
most commonly use. Bread, butter, eggs, beans, molasses,.
&c, are the staple food. They make little money, and are
very unambitious. The art of cooking, which is so well
understood in France, they seem to have lost. They jog on
through life having little, but content with their lot. Turgeon
is a "rouge," a pure democrat, and yet I upbraid him with
the pleasure he seems to take in the simple homage which
those pay to his superior rank. He admits the superiority,.
but says there must be grades in all society, and adds that
he wants a state of things which will afford all men the
opportunity of reaching that rank in life which they ambition
and for which they are adapted. The only aristocracy to

"A PRIESTLY FENIAN." 245
which homage should be paid is to the aristocracy of
intellect. The day is fearfully cold, but our great coats and buffalo-
robe make it less biting. At length we reach the restaurant
of M. La Jeunesse, where Turgeon appears quite at home.
He rattles away in French to the host, and shows me over
the house. It is crowded on Sundays, for this is a favourite
drive. We walk to the river and view it from a large wooden
arched bridge which crosses it here. A broad river covered
with ice, except one part where a tremendous current flows.
The scene is very fine although it is wintry and cold.
Turgeon's birth-place is some three or four miles farther on
across the river, Terrebonne (Terra Bona — Ban-tir), and he
is anxious I should see it, but not to-day, it is too late.
We return to town in our carriage. The Mountain (Mount
Royal is covered with snow, so are the fields in some places),
and the domes and spires ofthe city lie in front. The whole
scene is bathed in a flood of red sunset-light and looks
charming. And the Canadian peasants returning homewards
with their peaked cowls give a romantic picturesqueness to
the tableau.
March 28th. — I dine today with Father Campion, of St.
Bridget's ; and preach for him in the evening. There are
30,000 Catholics (Irish), in Montreal, and only three Irish
priests ! ! ! The Irish are never content with any priest
except one of their own, and they go so far in this desire
that they prefer a priest from their own part of the country
to any other. Anecdote on this subject : — In Boston a
woman's husband dies. She is Southern Irish. People ask
her had her husband the benefit of a priest in his last
moments. She replies " He had and he had'nt."

246 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
" What do you mean ? " say the neighbours.
"It was one of them Far-Down priests he had," she said,
thus conveying that a far-down, that is a Northern priest,
could not enter fully into the feelings of her Cork husband.
March 27th. — I am in Father Egan's room. The boy
comes and says to him " Sir, there is a lady down stairs
wishes to speak to you,"
"This lady," says Father Egan, " is most probably a servant
girl, very few ladies come to see me."
"And," said I, "Is it the same here as in the States — is
every woman called a lady ? "
" That," he said, " greatly depends — if the person wears a
feather she is a lady, if a muffler, she is only a woman. For
some few weeks here in the winter there were no ladies-
The cold weather banished feathers and introduced mufflers
and clumsy head-dresses. Then every person who called
here was, with the boy, only a ' woman.' But when the cold
disappeared for a short time, none but ladies called. On
ordinary occasions, if a male visitor wears a moustache, he
is a ' gentleman,' but should he lack that characteristic of
facial adornment, he is only a 'man.' "
At 8 o'clock this evening my lecture came off. The Hall
was literally crammed, nor had the deep and still falling snow
any effect on the numbers. There must have been 2,500.
persons present. A magnificent band — the band of St.
Patrick's Society diversified the entertainment ; they played
several airs, all Irish. The proceedings lasted two hours.
and the audience appeared in the best of humour. The
Presidents of the several societies were seated on the platform
in the insignia of their office, namely, a collar of velvet and
gold. Mr. Devlin was chairman. He made a long speech,

"A PRIESTLY FENIAN" 247
alluding to the excitement caused during the past week, by
the comments of a portion of the press on my speech of
Patrick's Night, and makingproper explanations.. I delivered
my lecture first, and then made a speech of explanation.
The audience were in roars of laughter the whole time. I
never met a better humoured crowd of people. All admitted
it was about the pleasantest evening they ever spent in that
hall. My friend Turgeon was on the platform. The whole
thing was a grand success.
March 28th. — My lecture and the proceedings of last
night are the great topic of the newspapers this morning.
There are no editorial comments yet. In the afternoon the
Star has a leader, but a very mild one,
I visit Mrs. Sadlier, of New York, at the Ottawa Hall.
The Irish citizens of Montreal are to give me a Danquet
this evening. I make other visits, and at 7.30 the dinner
comes off at the Ottawa Hall. I was glad to find from
statements made during the evening that the Irish are equal
to any others in Montreal in wealth and prosperity, and
that no less than 10,000 of them have deposit receipts in
the bank. From all quarters I have heard of their sobriety.
Father Dowd assured me for five years he had not seen a
drunken person, I can add that they are very kind, generous^
and social, and all seem pleased that this little " tempest in
a tea-pot " should take place, because it bands the Irish
together, and gives them common cause of battle against
their enemies.
March 29th. — The Gazette is out this morning with a
leader headed "Irrepressible," in which it deals pretty
severely with me, reiterating its charge of Fenianism, and
refusing to accept any explanation except as glosses made' in

248 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
a spirit of cowardice and insincerity. The Herald has a full
report of Mr. Devlin's speech and mine. The Witness in
the evening is caustic and bitter. There is as much religious
bigotry here as in Belfast. It is worse in Toronto, but it is
more remarkable in a city where the majority are Catholic,
in a city which some have rather inconsiderately designated
as the " Rome of America."
March 2,0th. — This morning the proceeds of the lecture'
were handed to me by Mr. Donovan. I went at once
and turned them into a Bill of Exchange at the Ontario
Bank, of which Mr. Stamers is the manager. The news
papers are quiet to-day.
I pay a few visits and prepare to leave the city. Some of
my friends meet me at the terminus. We part. I cross the
St. Lawrence, over the Victoria Bridge, and the huge river
is still frozen hard and thick. I go from a region of cold to
one of genial warmth, and from one people to another very
different. A young gentleman with glasses and a very
scholarly air, introduces himself (Mr. George Isles). He
offers me Mark Twain's "Innocents Abroad, " which I read
and enjoy very much. It lessens the tedium of a very long
journey. The country all around is very flat, and presents
a pleasant cultivated aspect, and the trees everywhere give
the scene a charming picturesqueness. We reach St. Albans,
and Mr. Isles directs my attention to the large number of
emigrants we brought, and whom the carriages are now dis
gorging. The word emigrants is associated in my mind with
the Irish, and I was startled by the expression of my com
panion. But these are only emigrants from Canada — French-
Canadians on their way to the factories of Massachusetts,
to which they flock at this season, but return home in the

"A PRIESTLY FENIAN."

249

summer, for they are a very home-loving people, so are the
Irish, perhaps still more.
We take refreshments at St. Albans. Mr. Isles branches
off, and I take the Vermont Central Route. As I am to
travel all night, I am to have my first experience of the
sleeping-car. At the cry of " All aboard," I step into the
sleeping-car. The conductor is at the door, cold and
indifferent. I say, like one who knows all about sleeping-
cars, " I want a berth, please." Perhaps this was a mistake
— it looked like confounding trains and steamers. From his
impassive features I could not see whether he detected any
greenness about me. He only said, " All right, step in
there," pointing to a place behind a curtain. I wondered
did this conductor ever smile, or did he ever say an unneces
sary word ? Is he always the conductor ? Does he ever sing
or be social? Has he a wife, and does he take his children
on his knee and pet them ? He seemed to me to be the
incarnation of office. So is it with most American conduc
tors. One would think that they had accepted the position
in a pure spirit of condescension, and that the position ought
to be veiy grateful to them for so doing.
I sit on a kind of narrow bed. It faces the stove, and so
I am very warm. I take off my hat and coat. Mark Twain
is no use, for it is dark, and in this berth there is no place
for a lamp. What shall I do ? Is this the bed, where is
the pillow, where are the bed clothes, or are there any?
Ask the conductor ? Oh, no ! He probably would not
answer me. I lean against the panel and doze, and then I
feel very sleepy. At last I make a pillow of my outside
coat, and lie down awaiting the issue. I don't know how
long I may have been asleep, but I was waked by a question.

250 DIAR YOFA TOUR IN AMERICA.
" Time to wind up, eh ? " I opened my eyes, and saw the
rigid conductor. "Oh ! yes," I said, " where shall I go ?"
He pointed and I obeyed. I sat in the next berth, and he
pulled from another, a bed, bed-clothes and pillows, and
"fixed" mine. When he gave me the signal to return, I
found my bed had been increased to twice its width, and was
very snug and comfortable. But just fancy the magnificent
conductor making it for me. It was an indescribable con-
decension. I retired and slept very well indeed. While
the train was in motion I slept, but its stopping always woke
me. We passed through Burlington, the chief city of
Vermont, and next morning at 5.30 reached Troy, which
must be somewhere about 150 miles from New York. The
accommodation for washing in sleeping-cars is not recherche,
and there was no hair comb or brush, so that I did not feel
very clean when I stepped on the platform of Troy. Here
is a splendid refreshment room considering the point of
size — but of what kind are the refreshments ? I sat at a
small table, and a nigger almost as nonchalant as the con
ductor, attended me. " Tea and eggs," I said. When they
did arrive, after a considerable delay, the first egg proved to
be rotten. I appealed to the nigger, but he said it wasn't
so bad, that it was about the best to be got, and most people
did not object to eggs in such a condition. I replied, I only
envied the stomachs of such people. The tea was some
abominable decoction of hay and heath, and other indefin
able herbs. I ordered coffee for the next cup, but the tea
was nectar in comparison, the bread was damp, and the
butter, like the egg, far advanced in decomposition. The
only genuine article of the breakfast was the payment of
some extravagant number of cents. But I only heave a sigh

"A PRIESTLY FENIAN." 251

for old Ireland, and change cars for New York. We steam
away through a long street of Troy, as if a railway train was.
as innocent as a wheelbarrow. We kill no one, however. The
people are scarcely out of bed yet. Soon we move by the
pleasant banks of the Hudson — it is a charming morning.
The Canadian cold is gone, but I find traces of snow thus
far south.
March $ist. — After a few miles we see Albany sitting on
the river, a truly charming spectacle, with its church spire
and fine houses, all neat and fresh as if turned out only
yesterday. I admire the Hudson immensely, and it looked
lovely this morning — its broad waters, a noble tide, glistening
in the beams of the early sun ; with far beyond the long
bold range of the Catskill mountains, all sprinkled with
snow, making a magnificent back ground to the landscape.
I feel nervous as we approach the bridge where occurred the
terrible railway accident of the 9th of February, known as
the New Hamburg disaster, when, at night, by collision with
a petroleum train, some carriages were precipitated into the
frozen river, some 25 people were drowned, the bridge was
burnt, and all America was shocked for a moment. We
reach it at length, it has been newly built, we crawl over it
at snail- pace, and I see the charred timbers of the old bridge
sticking up gloomily from the placid waters. When we are
over, I feel very comfortable and fear no farther danger.
Queer names of places here "Catskill," "Pigskill," "Fish-
kill," and " Poughkeepsie," the three latter being names of
towns on the Hudson. It was on this line I first noticed
the nuisance of newsvendors, and vendors of all kinds
in railway carriages. While you are quietly reading, you
are startled by a book or a paper, or a package of " hop

252 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
corn," or a prize candy package cast into your lap, or into
the book you are reading. You must inspect those things,
and if you buy them, why you give the money when the man
comes round, or if not he takes back his wares. It never
¦ceases, when they have left one series of things in the laps
of the passengers they go over the same process with some
thing new.

CHAPTER X.
NEW YORK IN SUMMER.
I reach New York about twelve o'clock, and proceed to
Sweeny's hotel. The change of temperature from Canada
is what strikes me most.
April 6th. — I have been for some time suffering from a
kind of asthmatic affection — an incapacity to walk without
puffing, and a certain strange stiffness about my knees, and
want of muscular power in my legs. I see I must look to
it; it comes from want of exercise. Happy thought — take a
good long walk every morning. Told Charles U. O'Connell
about it He knocks this morning at my door at seven
o'clock ; I am just getting up. Lovely morning, a little
raw, but good for exercise. Charley proposes we begin the
walking ; so we start along Broadway, stepping into Trinity
Church (Protestant) on the way to look at it. A fine
church, with a splendid stained glass window. We are
sorry we cannot say our prayers : we can only think them.
We march along until we come to the Battery, Castle
Garden, and all that. Before reaching those places, how
ever, we find ourselves in a handsome round square, where

NE W YORK IN SUMMER. 253.
there is an iron railing enclosing a green plot, where ^iere
are some high trees. The upright iron bars of this railing
were, while the English ruled here, surmounted by heads of
George III., but during the revolution the heads were torn
off by the Americans, and made into shot to turn on the
English- It is easy to see the signs of the wrenching. The
place where the British Consul lives is close by, and is.
distinguished by two lions couchant, one at each side of the
doorway. We got on board the ferry-boat for Staten Island.
I had a most delightful trip across the spacious basin within
the harbour. It reminds me somewhat of Queenstown, and
if not as gay in summer time, is far more active. All kinds
of craft are plying about with truly Yankee smartness.
Little tug-boats particularly, which, like all small agents*
even in humanity, strive to make up for diminutiveness by
an affectation of gigantic energy. There are two Trans-
Atlantic steamers, Guion and a Cunard, both apparently in
quarantine, for smallpox prevails here just now. The sun
makes the water dazzle, and I long to tread the deck of one-
of those vessels, and sail out the harbour's mouth, straining
my eyes for the rugged coast, and the green fields, and the
dear old hills of my native land.
April 7th. — Don't feel so well to-day. Nevertheless,
Charles O'Connell and I take our morning excursion. We
cross over in a ferry-boat to Hoboken. The morning is
cold and rough, with a dry east wind. What is Hoboken ?
A collection of houses verging into another collection called
Jersey City. We walk through till we come to Jersey.
Here we go on board the " Oceana," the last Trans-Atlantic
steamer built — built in Belfast —first of a new line, the
" White Star." She is a splendid vessel, 432 feet lonS hy>

2S4- DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
I think, 42 beam, most gorgeously fitted up. Before we
went out I should have said we had a tumbler each of boiled
milk ; but, alas ! it was not milk. What was it ? What was
it like ? I know not ; but one thing I am certain of— it was
not milk. This is too bad. That when a man pays his
honest money, he will not get an honest article. But what
can you expect in a country where it is notorious that a
fortune has been made by a dealer in wooden nutmegs, and
that a man saved his bacon by the sale of wooden hams.
Nothing is genuine here. How so many escape poisoning
is to me mysterious.
I preach this evening at St. Paul's church. Brooklyn is
a fine city, with, probably, half a million of inhabitants. It
is always on the increase. The number of houses built
within the past twelve months in Brooklyn exceeds fifteen
thousand ; and yet there are men living who remember
when there was not a stone on a stone in this great city.
When Archbishop M'Closky, of New York, was preaching
a few years ago, at the laying of the foundation stone of the
new Brooklyn Cathedral, he used words to this effect : —
" Well I remember when there was not a stone or a brick
house in all Brooklyn — where I was brought up in my child
hood, when only a few wooden shanties skirted the water's
edge, and when I, a little boy, was accustomed to walk with
my little Irish mother along the sand on a Sunday morning,
and went by a small ferry-boat across to New York, to
Barclay-street church, almost the only one then in that
great city, to hear Mass. Little indeed did I then think that
this great Brooklyn would be the third city of the Union,
and that that little Irish boy would fill the proud position in
¦which He whose ways are unsearchable has placed me."

NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 255
April 8th. — The most sudden and extraordinary change
of weather I ever experienced ; from a harsh east wind to
the boiling heat of summer. It has taken everyone by sur
prise. The thermometer rose in the afternoon to 81 Q. All
the evidence of summer became suddenly manifest — the
butter melted at table, everyone was seized with a craving
for bitter beer, or sherry-cobbler and ice beverages of all
kinds. Men threw off their coats, and children swarmed
out of doors like ants, some very lightly clad, and some
simply statuesque. The sun asserted itself, the pavement
glowed beneath the feet, the imagination bore men away to
the seaside to Staten Island, and Longbranch, and nature
longed for a cool bath in the swelling salt-sea waves. Brows
glowed with heat and pearls of perspiration rose on the fore
head, handkerchiefs were plied with unusual vigour, and as
if summer were impatient of postponement, there was one
veritable case of sun-stroke — a man named Elishah Divan.
Neither the prophetic influence of his first name, nor the
Oriental magic of the second, saved him from the fatal stroke
of that fire-king, whose rays glow hardly more fiercely in his
own torrid realms of the east.
Crossing from Brooklyn, where I slept last night, I beheld
with gladness, such only as that with which summer lights
up the heart, the sparkling waters, as it were, dancing with a
suddenly inspired ecstacy for the return of the gay and joyful
time, and to my vivid fancy, the sloops and schooners, with
their white sails wafting them swiftly through the waves,
appeared like birds of passage, returning from cooler zones
to the brighter and more genial azure of their own.
April gth. — Easter Sunday. The heat to-day is intense —
as hot as anyone could desire. A cool breeze would be

256 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
a luxury, yet it is not that fearful heat of a New York sum
mer which renders people utterly incapable of doing any
thing — it is pleasant and comfortable ; but much walking
would make it disagreeable. The streets are very gay and
bright. People wear their holiday costume, and now and
then a young girl appears in blue dress trimmed with white,
and with white satin shoes, and mayhap a bouquet. Some
fair child, who has just emerged from some church where she
was a processionist, or had been to receive holy communion.
The sight of so much beauty and innocence in this worldly-
minded city on this great holiday has a peculiar charm. And
apropos of the religion of New York, I may remark in passing
that there is a great deal of religion here, especially amongst
our people. The priests are always hard at work and are
really most zealous. The churches are crowded on Sundays ;
but what I have observed most is the spirit of religion
that animates most individuals whom I meet in private life.
I have met a great number of men of whom it might be said
that they were Christians in the true sense of the word —
anxious to do good for themselves and others, deploring the
temptations to which they were exposed — particularly temp
tations to drink, and making, aye, and keeping, stern resolu
tions to resist them. Indeed in one word, I may say that I
found as much true religion in New York of a solid unosten
tatious character as ever I met at home. I have no doubt
that many neglect their religious duties altogether and perhaps,
lose their faith ; but of what Catholic land is not that true ?
I know nothing of the religious feelings of those who are not
Catholics, but there is no doubt that New Yorkers as a class
are great church-goers. The Herald every day plumes itself
more and more of being the great moral teacher of America,

NE JV YORK IN SUMMER. 2 5 7
the great religious apostle of the press. People say it does
good in that way, I know not what kind of good ; but I know
that if a "gentleman in search of religion" wanted to build
up a theory of faith — to fashion a creed for himself out of
the preachings of the Herald, he would find he had created a
monster more hideous than Frankenstein — a union of
anomalies which no mind could grasp — no intellect recon
cile monstrum horrendum informe ingens cui lumen ademptum.
I dine to-day with Mrs. Attridge. The spectacle of thestreets
where the Germans most do congregate, particularly Avenue
B, and the streets off it, are very gay to-day, because to-morrow
is to be celebrated the " Peace Jubilee," namely, a general
rejoicing for the termination of the late war between Germany
and France. In this celebration the Germans alone are to
participate, and it is said that it is to be one of the grandest
public spectacles ever witnessed in the United States ; that
the great object ofthe Germans is not so much to congratu
late their country on a return of peace, or to exult in a
triumph over their French neighbours, but to show to the
whole world their strength as a great component part of
American nationality, that in the distribution of power their
claims may not be overlooked. The only otlier element
with which they have to contend in the ostentatiousness of
power is the Irish. These latter put out all their strength
last Patrick's Day. On that occasion the procession was con
ducted on a scale of magnificence unprecedented in the
history of the Irish ; but it is said that the Germans will
far outstrip all previous displays no matter by whom made.
As I pass along Avenue B, the spectacle is indeed pretty.
From every window, nay, from almost every pane of glass
floats a banner. Tens of thousands of flags decorates the

258 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
houses, some immense in size, others ordinarily large, the
rest dwindling down to the size of a piece of paper. The
only flags observable are the German (black, white and red),
some few Bavarian, and the American " Star-Spangled
Banner." " The Deutchers " are all out in holiday costume,
and assume an air of unusual importance, as if New York
were theirs for the next twenty-four hours. And no one
seems to interfere with these delicious feelings of self-com
placency on their part. Indeed that is one of the things
which a stranger, and particularly an Irishman, observes most
in this city — every nationality celebrates its own festival,
whatever the occasion may be, without offending others-
The Germans look on and admire the Irish processions, the
Irish are equally generous to the Germans — the only
nationality whom the celebration of this " Peace Jubilee "
could hurt would be the French ; but though 40,000 strong,
they will keep quiet, and to give the Germans their due
they make no allusion to France in the matter, but think only
of the — peace ! Again, I remark the immense number of
children in this German quarter. To almost every house
there are steps, and those steps are crowded with little boys
and girls making a terrible din, while the old folks sit
admiringly outside the door, Mein Herr generally smoking
his meerschaum, and the Frau Gemahlin reposing with her
hands folded and calmly resting on that amplitude of sub
pectoral development which seems peculiar to the ladies of
Deutschland. April 10th. — Easter Monday. Surely never did a brighter
or lovelier dawn usher in a day so favourable for a public
demonstration than that which called forth from their
slumbers this morning the children of the Vaterland. I was

NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 259
awakened at six o'clock by the booming of cannon announc
ing that the hour had arrived for the great event to begin.
There is something catching in the joy of a great multitude —
it creates a corresponding emotion in the breasts of those
¦who have no other reason to be sympathetic. I felt a sen
sation of gladness as I looked out into the street and saw
the German houses around me all "brilliant and bright,"
with flags and laural festoonings and inscriptions in the
German tongue. Gladness was, as it were, in the air. The
streets appeared to be more than usually crowded, and the
passing people were chatty and hilarious. The bells ringing
on the necks of the horses drawing the street-cars seemed to
chaunt a strain of jubilation, and the little flaglets fixed in their
foreheads gave the idea that even the brute creation rejoiced
with the exulting Germans. Now and then through the
dense mass of ordinary citizens, would pass some German
in the costume of a Prussian soldier, or a bandsman,Tfr a
member of some society, with an appropriate badge or
decoration betokening the coming gala. Later on huge
waggons gaily festooned and inscribed, pass along drawn by
six or eight horses, occupied by men of the various trades,
and bearing the emblems of their craft, all proceeding to
Tompkins Square, Avenue B, which is the general rendezvous,
the starting and finishing point of the procession.
At eleven o'clock I also betake myself to Tompkins Square,
or rather to Father Mooney's house which commands it.
There is no language of mine by which I could convey the
beauty of the spectacle all through the German quarter.
The thousands of flags of yesterday seem to have multiplied
a thousand fold, and myriads of Chinese lanterns are hung
out in preparation for the illuminations in the evening.

260 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
The hot sun shines over all, the air is filled with the music
of gathering bands, the streets echo to the sound of treading
horses, bearing the processionists to the ground. The hum of
a hundred thousand voices increases the babel. In the midst
of the enormous square, from which the iron railings exclude
the public, is an immense platform, capable of holding three
thousand persons, all wreathed and ornamented with Chinese
lanterns and the mingled flags of Germany and America in
boundless profusion. Every window in the square has its
crowded spectators gazing on the bright and busy scene from
amidst a forest of flags, while the very roof-tops all around
(square flat roofs) are swarming with men and women, shaded
by umbrellas from the scorching heat of the sun. The pro
cession forms, and those thousands of spectators, from
window and roof, from basement and attic, all wave their
white handkerchiefs in admiration of the scene. Here is a
splendid band, then follows a long train of horsemen in
military costume, then comes the enormous waggons thick
with their foliage, in the midst of which the bakers bake their
bread, the smiths ply their sledges on the anvil, the butchers
surround a mimic ox prepared for the work of slaughter, or
the rosy god, Bacchus, in correct mythological " fixings," sits
aside on a large barrel and swills veritable draughts of lager
beer : next come footmen, keeping the step in true military style,
bearing wands and banners ; then comes open carriages with
their aristocratic freights ; the inevitable Helmsbold is there
with his magnificent six-horse tandem, but it is all vain for
me to attempt a description of this procession, which is ad
mitted on all hands to be the grandest public demonstration
ever made in America— a public spectacle unparalleled in
the annals of the United States. One ofthe German papers,

NE IV YORK IN SUMMER. 261
afterwards alluding to the procession, described it as the
greatest that ever appeared in the world. It was twelve miles
long. The number of decorated carriages was 250, and it
was computed that the number of processionists was 50,000.
It was regarded as a great triumph for the American-Germans,
and was a model to all other nationalities for the various
qualities that distinguished it — the lavishness of expenditure,
the unanimity of tone, the universality of participation, the
propriety of conduct, the moderation of feeling, the artistic
taste and effect of the whole mise en scene were creditable in
the highest degree.
The Irish seem to feel they are beneath the Germans in
this kind of thing — and why are they so ? Because the
respectable portion of their people regard Patrick's Day pro
cession as vulgar and unworthy of their patronage or attend
ance, while the Germans high and low combine to make this
pageant what it is, succeed, and are applauded and envied.
Great expense is necessary to carry out a great procession
such as this, and the Germans subscribed in abundance,
but the rich Irish, though wealthier than their German com
peers, lack the public spirit to make this sacrifice.
How shall I describe the illuminations in the evening ?
It is vain. Tompkins-square was the great attraction. The
houses all round were brilliant with Chinese lanterns ; the
jalatform was brilliantly lighted up, and 400 voices chaunted
hymns of jubilee ; electric lights and lime lights turned
night into day ; fireworks were going on in all quarters ;
rockets mimicked the stars ; hundreds of thousands prome
naded the streets. All through the city, wherever a German
habitation stood, were decorations and illuminations. Every
Bier-Halle swarmed with lovers of lager, and of the whole

262 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
demonstration it can be safely said that it was one of the
most magnificent spectacles ever witnessed in any great city
— one of the grandest demonstrations by which a wealthy,
a patriotic and a united people sought to prove that they
were entitled to the respect and honour of the country they
had adopted as their own.
April nth. — Mark the vicissitudes of the American cli
mate. The hot broiling weather is gone, and a cold, harsh,
dust-making March wind has set in again. This is another
day for two coats. I spend the greater part of the day in
my hotel paying up arrears of correspondence long due. In
the evening I go with John Attridge to the Academy of
Music, where the 71st Regiment have a ball. Previous to
the ball there is a military drill. Twelve candidates com
pete for three prizes — a silver-mounted musket, a medal and
a cup. The drilling is rather monotonous, and it lasted a
good while. The whole spectacle, however, was very fine.
The hall is a very grand building — half-theatre, half hall —
with galleries and boxes. The pit was all hidden from view,
covered over with a flooring placed for the purpose of
dancing, and easily removable. A great number of officers
were present, and they looked like officers — i.e., gentlemen,
like ours at home, and very unlike the colonels and captains
I have met in undress. Perhaps if the latter were dressed
en militaire they would look as soldierly ; but take men as
you find them. The evolutions appeared to my unpractised
eye very well performed ; but, strange to say, the two whom
I thought best were not amongst the rewarded. These two
were the only ones whose exercises were applauded by the
audience, which I regarded as a flattery to my own judg
ment ; but we were, it would appear, all wrong. Three

NE W YORK IN SUMMER. 26

j

were selected for the prizes whom no one seemed to admire
very much. No doubt we were all wrong. The moment
the drilling was over, the floor was thronged with dancers.
It was the first public ball I ever saw. ' The dresses struck
me as very beautiful, but the ladies as the reverse. Out of
about two hundred ladies there was not six who came up
to my standard of beauty, while some were hideously ugly.
The ugly ones appeared the best dressed, as if they endea
voured to supply by art what Nature denied. Poor crea
tures, " They strove to bless
In all the glaring impotence of dress."
Fashion, it would appear, has introduced in New York a
a habit of powdering ladies' hair, a good refuge for the grey,
and to them a great saving of powder. They also powder
their faces. One lady was a perfect fright — old, scraggy,
gaudily attired, but with her long, profuse, and doubtless
false hair, all powdered steel grey, and her face as if it had
been dashed with flour — she will not look half so hideous
when she is a corpse. Then she will look at least natural.
Balls are a study to a philosophic mind — to mine, of course,
only in proportion to its philosophic depth. But why do
people dance ? Is it that they may be seen and admired ?
Dancing is not necessary for this ; promenading would do
as well, and better. Those dancers to-night looked like
moving statues; they interchanged no smiles, no words;
Uiey looked cold. Nay, it would seem to a stranger as if
they felt that smiles or interchange of sentiment would be
vulgar, or bad taste. They simply danced, and then prome
naded, and strove to look self-possessed and severe. Pro
bably if I were a dancer I would see the pleasure, but

264 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
being only a spectator, I am, of course, a cynic. Well, I
hope so, I heartily hope those butterflies enjoyed themselves.
They certainly looked very pretty from a distance ; the
tableau was charming, and I trust they will all feel better
to-morrow morning.
The notorious Colonel James Fisk, junior, better known
as " Jim Fisk," was here, in full regimentals, a good-looking
man, but I thought sensual-looking, perhaps because I know
that he is sensual. All the world knows it, and "Jim"
makes no effort to conceal it. He is the most notorious
man (excepting, perhaps, Train) in the United States ; but
Train is " played out," while Fisk is yet in the ring, and
likely to be. He is proud of being the biggest roue, the
most successful swindler, the least God-fearing, and the
richest man in America. He speculates in everything, and
everything thrives with him. He is in the papers every
day, for something or another. He seems to enjoy an
immunity from the perversity of his excesses, because he
is wealthy, and America is a slave to Mammon, and to all
Mammon's hierarchy. Fisk is the best living type of an
American, his motto being, "Rem, rem, quocunque modo,
rem." He is at the top of Fortune's wheel to-day. To
morrow his coat may be trailing in the dust — to-day his
friends swarm around him and do him homage — to-morrow,
if he fall, the homage-giving group will be scattered to the
winds. But this is the old, old story, and my philosophy is
growing common-place. I have seen Jim Fisk, I go home
contented. April 1 2th. — A curious thing about shops in New York,
and more or less with other cities I have seen here is the
strange mode of advertising. I was aware before now, that

NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 265
tobacco sellers generally hung out a sign in the shape of a
man smoking. Here is every variety of such statuesque
symbols of trade. They abound at tobacco stores. In one
place, it is a statue of a red Indian with a bunch of cigars
in his hand. He is duly accoutred with feathers, tomahawk,
and apron. In another place, a squaw does duty, but a
squaw with an amount of beauty, and symmetrical grace or
form which we associate only with the Caucasian race, some
tobacco sellers have before their doors on a pedestal, a life-
size form of a charming young lady attired as " the girl of
the period," with extravagant chignon, a preposterous grecian
bend, short dress, close laced high heeled boots, smoking a
cigar. Whatever be the artistic excellence of these figures
in a sculptural point of view, they are all painted most gor
geously, and with a perfectly rainbow like variety of colouring.
Outside some shops it is a Bashaw with a turban, and loose
trousers pulling a long pipe. Outside another it is a nigger
decked out with striped pantaloons, white hat, and frilled
shirt, smoking a cigar. In some places it is a soldier, in full
costume, with a box of cigars in one hand and the other
pointing to the " store " where those unparalleled Havanas
or Partigas may be had. By the way the word cigar is
generally spelt " segar " in New York.
Other trades beside the tobacco dealers have what I call
their statuesque symbols. On Broadway outside an umbrella
store, is on a pedestal, the full length statue of a man
holding a blue umbrella in his hand open over his head, on
a wet day. You envy the fellow, he succeeds so well in
keeping himself dry. On Broadway also stretching out into
the street from the very top of a house is a gigantic figure
of a bear, to imply that bear-grease, and other ointments

266 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
may be had below. Shoe and boot makers usually have an.
enormous colossal boot, quite a "seven leaguer," placed
on a pedestal at the kerb-stone in front of their houses : but
indeed the variety of such symbols are endless. I go to see
Mr. and Mrs. Williams off by the " Scotia " for Europe. An
immense number of passengers go. Mr. Stephen Meany is
also present. Mr. Florence, the actor, is going and his wife.
To the latter he introduces me, she is an actress, a stout
young lady with an exuberance of yellow hair. I could not
help saying to Mr. Meany — This transatlantic navigation is
a very wonderful institution — the noise, bustle, baggage,
carriage, beauty, ugliness, age, youth, flash and plainness,
aristocracy and shoddy ; the tears and smiles and kisses, and
waving white handkerchiefs all around the tender as she
bears her living freight to the big ship out in the harbour.
Now and then, in newspapers, you see advertisements-
that amuse you, because they are so unintelligible to you,
although to the initiated no doubt they are full of interest.
I cut out the following lately, which appeared to be empha
tically American, or at least not European. " Local items —
Green turtle soup and stakes at the Terrapin, little neck
clams always on hand. Clam chowder for lunch this day."
I should like to know what an Englishman would guess the
"Terrapin" to be, what are his notions of Neck Clams,.
especially little ones, and what sensations would be excited
in his stomach by the expectation of lunching on Clam
Chowder ?
I see by a paper of this day's date that the number of
thieves in New York has been computed to reach 30,000-
Funny little fellows those New York shoeblacks. They
abound in London, and are generally found in places most.

NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 267
frequented. The shoeblack looks at your boots as you pass.
and if he observes that they are soiled, he cries at you inter
rogatively, " Shine ? " Now a stranger would have no-
notion what he means by this monosyllabic enquiry, but the
initiated knows that he means " your boots are soiled, shall
I make them shine ? " Indeed contraction of expression
is cultivated everywhere in America, and one remarkable
illustration of it is found in the way people designate the
streets in ordinary conversation. They generally leave out
the word street; for example, instead of saying "Summer
Street," they will say " Summer," or corner of "Summer,"
and " Washington," " 19 Court," and so on.
Went this evening by the Broadway Stage. The "Stage"
is just the same as our omnibus, and here it runs only along
Broadway and some adjacent avenues ; the horse-car goes
through most of the other streets. I cannot help being
astonished at the cleverness of the stage drivers. Remark :
there are hundreds of stages and stage drivers. He sits on
the box outside. He must have his eye out constantly for
persons wishing to ride by his stage ; he counts the number
as they enter, pulls the door after them by a string fixed to
the place where he sits ; receives the money through a hole
in the stage. Should a passenger delay payment he warns.
him by a bell to pay up. The money, which is nearly always
paper, requires sometimes to be changed, he manipulates
and changes with surprising dexterity, although in cold
weather he wears gloves, and clumsy ones, and this he does
by night as well as by day, and all the while guides his pair
of horses through the immense and bewildering throng of
carriages, waggons and other stages that crowd this perhaps
the most carriage-driven street in all the world.

268 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
I find myself lapsing into that American expression, " in
all the world." Last year I laughed at a gentleman who, in
what I considered a spirit of national amour propre, pro
nounced Broadway the finest street " in all the world." I
am beginning to veer round to his opinion — perhaps because,
my long absence from other great cities diminishes my
powers of comparison ; I cannot say, but surely this evening
passing along Broadway I fancied that no street could sur
pass it for beauty, long, straight, broad, thronged full of life
and bustle, " brilliant and bright," with thousands of human
beings passing along, with its magnificent houses, most of
them five and six storeys high, some even higher, all lit up,
some with plain gas, others with coloured lights of every
design that fancy could suggest ; the theatres illuminated as
if for some great festival, a dazzling lime light beaming from
the roof of one and lighting up the whole street for miles at
either side ; a running glance into the restaurants and re
freshment rooms as we pass — a long vista of tables daintily
laid out for supper, and a countless number of ladies and
gentlemen regaling themselves amidst a firmament of lights,
in a word, an aggregation of all that speaks of wealth,
grandeur, beauty, bustle, life, elegance, taste and magni
ficence, all this is to be found in Broadway.
On our way home I remarked a curious machine that I
had not seen before. It was a huge waggon drawn by two
horses, which might be called a union of brush and a box.
As the machine passed, the brush, a circular one, revolved
quickly and swept all the dirt of the street into the box. It
ought to be called the " Mammoth Chiffonier." It made
the cleanest sweep of the streets I ever saw or thought
possible.

NE W YORK IN SUMMER. 269
April 15th. — Am unwell to-day, and remain confined to
my room until 3.45 p.m., when I go by steamer to Hunting
ton, Long Island. The voyage lasted two hours and a half,
and as the evening was fine it was very pleasant. The
scenery along Long Island Sound is very beautiful, and an
abundance of sailing craft added to the charm. We passed
by Blackwell's Island, which I described in the early part of
this work. Curious blunder of Charles Dickens in his
American Notes concerning this island. He speaks of it as
Long Island or Rhode Island, he could not tell which — in
point of fact it was neither — and how he could have mixed
up the three islands, Long, Rhode and Blackwell, is strange
and it implies a peculiar ignorance of American geography.
We passed through " Hell Gate," a kind of dangerous
rocky passage. At the Huntington Pier Father Crowley met
me with his horse and " wagon," and drew me to his house.
The Miss Sweeny's were glad to see me. Spent the evening
quietly in doors.
April 1 6th. — Sunday. Celebrated Mass and preached to a
very small congregation. In this church there is Mass only
every alternate Sunday. Father Crowley, the only priest,
has to go off 20 miles every other Sunday to a second church-
This was the Sunday for no Mass in Huntington, but he sent
abroad word that a strange priest had come and would say
Mass. The congregation were wonderfully well dressed con
sidering they were only villagers, and Irish. The day was
charming, and we had an exquisitely charming ride — visited
a large empty house which the Jesuits have just bought with
forty acres of land, for the ridiculously small sum of ten
thousand dollars. The situation is wonderfully fine, on an
eminence commanding a vast prospect of land and water.

2 7 o DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
In the neighbourhood are some breastworks thrown up by
the English in the time of the War of Independence. We
visited the landlord, Mr. Lloyd, a gentleman of English
¦descent, and very English airs, a man of education and
elegant manners, but strangely aristocratic. I say strangely,
for how a man can preserve aristocratic airs in this country
is to me difficult of comprehension.
I was amused driving through some woodland here, to see
lhe antics of the squirrels among the trees, it was the first
time I saw squirrels in a state of nature.
April 21st. — Fell very unwell, my heart flutters at the
least exercise, simple walking gives me a violent palpitation.
Nothing remains to me but to rest.
I am introduced to the celebrated John Mitchel in his
office, Nassau Street. He is editor of the Irish Citizen. I
claim more than ordinary regard from the fact that I was a
friend of his dear friend Father John Trenyon of Templederry.
Mr. Mitchel is a prematurely old, broken down man. The
•conversation turned on patriotism, politics, &c, and he
ventilated some very strong revolutionary principles. He
alluded to my book, " Father O'Leary," which he had read,
and reviewed it in his paper. Of Father O'Leary he was no
-admirer. He deprecated his loyalty to the British throne.
" No good Irishman," he said, "could be loyal under any
circumstances to English rule."
I receive two engagements to-day to lecture at terms —
one hundred dollars each lecture. One at the Athenaeum,
in Brooklyn, for the orphans under the charge of the Sisters
of Mercy, the other at Camden City, N.J., for Father Byrne,
P.P. I accept both.
I rise to-day much better than any day for the past week.

NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 271
Last evening and this morning I read a small book— a life
of Stephen J. Meany, now my friend. He is to my mind a
gentleman, scholar, and true patriot. I admire the man
more than ever.
April 2$lh. — Preached at St. Andrew's Church, after
which went by invitation to the consecration of the Church
of St. Rose of Lima (Father McKenna,) Cannon Street.
The Archbishop (McCloskey,) Bishop Loughlin of Brook
lyn, and Bishop Mullen of Erie were present also about
fifty clergy. Vast and most respectable congregation. Sermon
by Father Necker.
TheCatholic faith seems to be very strong in New York,
if one were to judge by the number of new and splendid
churches being erected, or by the devotional aspect of the
-crowds who fill them. After the ceremony a grand banquet
was prepared in the old church building, at which, besides
the bishops and clergy, several lay gentlemen sat. After the
usual toasts were proposed, the Archbishop did me the very
high honour of proposing mine in connection with the name
of my bishop, Dr. Delany, of whose hospitality he spoke in
terms of the warmest eulogy.
In the evening I attended a lecture in the Church of St
Stephen's (Dr. McGlinn,) I think the finest church in New
York. Afril 26th. — My home-sickness continues very bad. It is
like a disease. I now understand why the love of home is
called a sickness. I spend the day moping about, finding
fault with everything, and I last seek a balm for my troubled
mind by writing a long letter to my friend, Father William
Murphy, in which I state my whole case. Ridiculous idea
to tell my complaint to a physician 3,000 miles away.

2 7 2 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
April 27th. — My home-sickness is greatly abated, almost
gone — strange vicissitudes of my mind — I cannot account
for it. I would willingly recall my letter to Father Murphy,
but let it go, the disease will return again, and the letter
will do for the next attack just as well. In the early
morning the stranger whose slumbers are not broken by the
milkman's cry of "milk" must have a very tranquil con
science, or very stolid ears. It is the most unearthly hideous
cry I ever heard. A murdered victim in his last agony
could scarcely rival the misery of it. I was hearing it for
weeks before I could tell what it was. Its bitterness is
enough to curdle the milk in the cans.
April 2,0th. — Travelled this evening to Camden, New
Jersey, distant from New York about 100 miles. Camden
holds the same relation to Philadelphia as Cambridge does
to Boston, or Brooklyn to New York ; in short, it is at the
other side of the river. The day was pleasant and the
scenery beautiful. Our road lay through the State of New
Jersey, and we passed through some very important towns
and cities, such as, Newark, Elizabeth, New Brunswick and
Fenton. The aspect of the country reminded me much of
England, as seen on the Great Western Railway from Bristol
to London — low, well-cultivated, verdant, and with abund
ance of trees. Everything looked charming. New Jersey
is a very agricultural State, but parts of it are very sandy.
It is said that on occasions of great hurricanes whole farms
are swept away, but on the return of the wind they are
brought back again.
The Delaware river lies along the railway, a magnificent
river rising in the State of New York, about 500 miles long,
and joining the sea about 100 miles below Philadelphia. I

NEW YORK IN SUMMER 273
reach Camden at 8.30 p.m. It is dark ; I am driven to the
house of the pastor, Father Byrne, who has engaged me to
lecture to-morrow evening for 100 dollars, at the solicitation
of his assistant, Father Hogan, once of Brisbane, whom I
met in Ireland. Father Byrne I met the first time. He is
a young man, thirty-three years of age, and six feet six
inches high, very muscular, and very zealous.
Sunday.— 1 go across to Philadelphia by ferry-boat. The
big city lies on the water, just like any other American city,
a long, low range of red brick house.s, with church spires at
intervals. I am alone, and know no one here, save one, a
Father Kirwan, whom I met in Cork last year. He lives
at a place called Port Richmond, an extremity of the city,
which, distant as it is, I find out, and him too. My visit
was merely one of courtesy. I had an opportunity of seeing
the city, though not much of it. It is a splendid city, very
large, embracing an area of 127 square miles ! of course not
all built up, but intended to be, and paying city taxation
within those limits. Thus, said to be the largest city in the
world, population, 750,000, founded by William Penn —
"City of Brotherly Love"— full of Quakers, hence metho
dical, quiet, not Catholic, though, probably, the Catholic
population is 200,000, perhaps more. Germans are very
abundant ; the first man I met was a German. Philadelphia,
always quiet, is almost a desert on a Sunday. No cars,
that I could see, except the horse-cars, being out. I think
I saw one or two carriages, but I am almost sure they were
either going to or .coming from church. The streets are, for
the most part, rectangular. Method is the great feature of
Philadelphia, the Quaker City.
I reach Camden ; I am warned by Father Byrne that a

274 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
number of gentlemen, members of the local Father Mathew's
Temperance Society, are at present in the church, and wish
jme to receive an address from them. This is embarrassing,
but I go through it. A Mr. Hennessy reads the address ;
it is very flattering, and of course I shall preserve it In
the evening I deliver my lecture on "The Bible," in the
church, to a very large and respectable audience.
Monday. — Father Byrne has arranged a pic-nic for me on
the river at a place called Redbank, about ten miles away.
He keeps four splendid horses, and is a lover of the noble
brute. A pair come round to the door for him and me.
We drive to Redbank, which we reach at twelve o'clock.
There is a regatta on the river, which is so broad here that
it resembles a great lake. Not far from this, and quite in
sight of the spot where, in the war between the Americans
and English, a man-of-war belonging to the latter was sunk
by guns fired from this spot. The ship was the "Augusta," one
of the largest in the navy at that time. She has been
recently got up, and now floats in the dock al Philadelphia.
" Ben Heritage," the farmer at whose house we put up our
horses, pointed out to me one of the cannons employed in
the sinking ofthe "Augusta." A stone monument on this
spot commemorates the valour of a Lieutenant Green who
here defeated 2,000 Hessians with only 400 men in the same
campaign. Soon after us arrive Father Hogan and Father Wiseman,
the latter parish priest of Gloucester, a town within three
miles at that side of Camden. Also came Miss Anne King,
niece of Father Byrne, and some other very young ladies all
of whom are very useful in laying the dinner on the green
sward at a point commanding a lovely view of the great

NE IV YORK IN SUMMER. 275,
river. There are about forty yachts spread over the lake
like surface of the Delaware, many of which are racing and
the rest spectators of the contest. There are steamers also
¦conveying hundreds of sight-seers down from Philadelphia
;and following the course of the yachts. We had " a good
time." We return homeward in the same order, Father Byme and
I together. He shows the mettle of his horses this time,
leaving all other charioteers " nowhere " on the road. There
exists in America a great love of competition in all things,
but most of all in speed. Steamers race on the great rivers,
nay, on the ocean, and accidents frequently occur ; lives are
lost, too, but no matter, the question is who had the glory
and honour of "beating the other? " One manhas a splendid
pair of black horses, and when he perceives Father Byrne
is following he puts on all steam. No use. Father Byrne
flies past him like a storm-wind. But the other pursues, and
as he approaches we perceive that he has torn the mouth
of one of his horses. Every attempt he made to get before
us was signally frustrated by the superior skill and mettle on
our side. At length when it was quite clear that he was
defeated, Father Byrne pulled aside and let him pass.
Tuesday. — Day excessively hot. Go across to Philadel
phia with Father Hogan, who takes me into a hatter's and
makes me a present of a Panama hat, which I don at once.
He wears one, too. Nobody minds a priest wearing such a
hat here in the streets. I take him to see Mr. Moorhead,
the gentleman whose acquaintance I made on board the
" China " coming out last year. We reach the house indi
cated in the directory, 16 12 Walnut Street — by the way,
¦many of the streets of Philadelphia are named after fruits —

2 7 6 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
e.g., "Walnut," "Chestnut," "Pine," " Vine," and many
more I cannot call to mind. But unfortunately Mr. Moor-
head has left this house and gone to reside far out in the
suburbs. What fault could he have found with this house ?
I think the finest in the whole street, built of cut granite,
with a Grecian portico and steps. It was furnished in the
most sumptuous and elegant style, and we could see even
some marble statuary within apparently of great size and
beauty. Coming home we see hundreds of Quakers going
to meeting at their house in Arch Street. They meet very
frequently this month. Their costume is the same here as
at home, plain and clean. We spend the evening at the
Cassidys — very nice elegant people — consisting of Mrs. and
Miss Cassidy, her daughter, Mrs. Jenks, Mr. Jenks, the
husband of the latter lady. Our conversation was more or
less literary, philosophical, &c.
May ist. — Eleven months in America. I call on the
Rev. Dr. M'Glynn of St. Stephen. He invites me to preach
next Sunday. Spend the evening with Father O'Farrell
(jun.) of St. Peter's, Barclay Street, a fine young gentleman.
We had company and spent a pleasant evening.
The great topic of New York at present is this — A few
evenings ago (Sunday, April 23rd), a Mr. Putman a mer
chant, of Pearl Street, New York, was riding in a street car,
escorting to church two ladies, mother and daughter. A
young man named Foster enters the car, and acts with
impropriety towards the young lady. The gentleman comes
to the rescue, and, of course, offends Foster. The latter
says " wait till I get you out." Accordingly when the party
got out, so does Foster. Seizing a car-hook attached to
the vehicle, he breaks the gentleman's skull. The latter

NE IV YORK IN SUMMER. 277
) _ ;
dies. Foster is arrested, and, query, will he be hanged ? The
papers all cry out for his hanging, so does the public, and
so are things done here, that it is mooted — he will be got off
iy influence f- — political influence : Nous verrons — If Foster is
not hanged, I will regard it as the most flagrant injustice
ever offered to a community. We must watch the case.
May 2nd. — This evening walking in one of the streets, I
see walking on before me a number of young men whom it
was impossible to mistake for anything but Irish peasants,
and I also fancied that they had just arrived.
" Boys," said I, addressing one with a pipe in his mouth,
" how long are you out here ? "
" This minute, your riverence, ' we arrived," said he.
" Put the pipe out of your mouth," said one of his com
panions in Irish. "Don't mind your pipe" said I, in the same
tongue. They gazed in astonishment, and then ensued a
conversation in the Celtic, from which I gathered that they
were from Tuam.
"And how is Archbishop McHale?" said I.
" Well as he ought to be," was the reply. I hope these
poor fellows will escape the many dangers that beset " green
horns " in this country.
The names of the streets here are painted on the gas-lamp
at the corners, and very seldom on houses. Strangers are
here some time before they find it out — it is very useful at
night. Manhood suffrage by ballot is the great pride of America—
but in New York it is a humbug. Votes are bought and sold
with unblushing coolness, and many candidates for office who
obtain majorities are counted out by bribed scrutators. A
thousand evils accrue from this, for example, there is no rule

278 DIAR YOFA TOUR IN AMERICA.
of fare for cab-drivers here, they can charge what they please.
Why do not the municipal authorities fix a tariff? Because-
the cab- drivers are a large section of the community, and at
an election their votes and those of their friends could turn.
the scale against any obnoxious candidate. Favours are
granted to the clergy and other influential persons, for the
bare solicitation. Let a man be sentenced to imprisonment
for a grave crime — a priest by properly manipulating the
matter can get an order for his release.
May 4th. — Was introduced to-day to Mr. John Savage,
whose name in Ireland and America has been mixed up
for the last twenty years with Young Irelandisrn, Fenianism,
&c. He is what is known as a "gentleman." He invited
me to his place, and I shall go. My lecture this evening on
" Curran," was a success as things go here.
May <-fh. — Received this morning, a handsome tribute of
praise of my lecture from Mr. Sweeny, proprietor of the
hotel in the shape of a cheque for One Hundred Dollars.
Dine this evening at Fifth Avenue. This is the most
aristocratic quarter in all New York. While surveying the
magnificent apartments, furniture, &c. I thought of the
pride which some of our aristocrats at home feel over their
houses. But, on the other hand, a thing very amusing here
is the remarkable contrasts between the style of the houses
and the style of their occupants. In many cases, no doubt
not in all, most of those who are wealthy were once poor
and uneducated, ignorant of fashion — what are called the
" shoddy aristocracy." When they became rich, they pur
chased a great mansion on Madison or Fifth Avenue. They
gave a commission to an upholsterer to furnish according
to improved taste, regardless of expense. Similar commis-

NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 279
sions were given to the bookseller, the painter, the china-
ware man, and thus the great houses were fitted up in right
regal style : the human birds once accustomed to the wild
freedom of poverty, now plumed themselves, and strutted
about in their gilded cages, peeping out with their bright,
sharp proud eyes at their former associates abroad, as if
they would say " why can't you get a pretty cage like this ? ''
Plebeian specimen of the ormis, " avaunt ! I pity thee ; I
live on Fifth Avenue, chirp, chirp, chirp." But it is a
vulgar chirp, and savours much of West Cork and Kerry,
and the mountainous region of Sligo. No matter — you get
a good dinner, at the right hour, at seven or half-past, and
the wines are excellent, so are the "segars," the real
Habanas, or the genuine Henry Clays, and you wind up
with a good game of billiards at a table worthy of a club.
And then next day, you are able to tell your friends that you
were sorry you could not have called last evening, but really
you could not accomplish it, you had to dine with a friend
on Fifth Avenue. Should the person you address thus live
" down town," he feels suddenly elated by the apology, for
it is a high honour to him to have on the list of his friends,
one who actually dined the previous evening on Fifth
Avenue, and who seems to regard the circumstance as
quite an ordinary event in his life. There is not a more
aristocracy-loving people on the face of the earth
than your American democracy.
May iglh. — Spend this evening with Mr. and Mrs, Lyons,
Greenwich Street — very litttle aristocracy here ; but a vast
deal of genuine good nature, and warm hospitality. We
were about fifteen, and we were all Cork people. There was
a Mrs. Flynn, formerly of Nicholas Street, Cork. I remember-

280 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
the name well, and I remember the lady's mother; once a
friend of my mother's. This lady remembers me a child.
Her daughter, Miss Flynn, is also here, so are a whole family
of the Draddys, of Quaker Road, out here for the last thirty
years — a mother and three sons. At home they were stone
cutters ; here they are " sculptors " — a most respectable
family indeed. We had a very pleasant evening ; some capital
singing, and agreeable dancing. The old lady, Mrs. Draddy,
danced as gaily as if she were only fifteen. I could not help
feeling, when I saw the air of respectability that marked these
young men — their thoroughly gentlemanly behaviour, and
whole bearing — when I saw the happiness of the woman —
I could not help feeling that things would have been very
different with them if they had remained at home in Ireland.
The stone-cutters would be very little regarded — the iron
that cut the stone would enter their souls ; and their manly
airs inspired by the aegis of American freedom would be the
downcast bearing of men crushed by a diabolical legislation.
May 20th. — Mr. Connolly had fixed on this day for taking
me to the "Islands" to visit the "Institutions." We went to
Bellevue Hospital — a splendid one. Mr. Gorett, formerly of
Skibbereen, was with us. Leaving this we took the steamer,
accompanied by Mr. Nicholson, Commissioner of Charities,
and proceeded to Randall's Island. Great respect shown
the Comptroller and his friends everywhere. Flags flying
from the buildings on the islands — Foundling Asylums,
Orphanage for boys and girls. The boys turned out in
military array with mimic guns, and marching with a band.
They drilled before us under the guidance of their drill-
master — and one stepped forward on the part of the rest,
and delivered an address to us. We saw all the asylums —

NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 281
the idiots were an interesting though painful study — one boy
particularly was dreadful to look at — the smallest head I
ever saw — no forehead — long nose — receding chin — no ex
pression in the eyes — whole body stunted — he looked very
like a monkey.
The "Soldiers' Home" was interesting —lame, infirm,
poor broken down soldiers, supported by the State.
The " Inebriate Asylum " for drunken men and women,
came next. The treatment is simple — hard cases are gradu
ally weaned. About four days is sufficient to administer
stimulants before final abstinence — then good plain food and
exercise for a few months — but many relapse. In Black-
wells Island are asylums for all kinds of human infirmity.
Saw here a woman 107 years old. Democratic idea
realized — Mr. Nicholson sees a young woman in bed and
asks of the nurse "What is the matter with that young lady ? "
The diseases are all beautifully classified here, so that
the hospital for the sick is rather an aggregation of hos
pitals. There is a large room in this Island made in
the shape of an isolated house, which might be called the
calisthenic department. A lunatic man plays the piano,
while, at the direction of a sane young woman, other women,
for the most part paralytics, epileptics and lunatics, exercise
themselves, to the time of the music, at dumb-bells, poles,
etc. ; this develops the muscles, and promotes health gene
rally. In fact, these institutions are magnificent ; the
buildings are of the first style of architecture. No expense
is spared. Light, air, room, cleanliness, good diet, fostering
care, benevolence, religion, the ministrations of the Sisters
of Mercy — these are the great features of management one
discovers here. Hence, as far as nature permits, you dis-

282 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
cover in every department health, content, happiness, ease
and plenty ; disease is dispelled, and where that is impos
sible, the patient enjoys an existence as long protracted
as art or science can confer.
Having completed our inspection, we sat down to dinner,.
provided for us by Mr. Warden Keane, an old gentleman
seventy-two years of age, but displaying all the elasticity
of forty. He was clad all in white, from his head to his
heels, a humble man, but a democrat. Mr. Connolly was
very kind and gracious to him, and Keane was equally con
descending to the comptroller — beautiful equality. Keane
would help us at table — he turned himself into head-waiter ;
but, as you took the plate from his hands, you could not
forbear saying, "Thank you, sir." There was no degra
dation in his helping you — he felt there was not, and you
felt it too. In this spirit he once or twice struck the comp
troller on the shoulder while we were at dinner, and starting
back, exclaimed, "Well, Richard, you're looking splendid."
I thought, as I gazed on the complacency of Richard under
this operation, how differently an English millionaire would
have treated such a familiarity on the part of a menial ; but
this is a glorious country, where " a man's a man." We go
again on board the " Minnahannock," and get back to the
city, delighted with the day's enjoyment
This evening, standing in the hall of the hotel, I converse
for a few moments with General Halpin. We shake hands,
and rush out into the street to catch a car. In a moment
there is a cry, a rush, and a crowd ; the General has fallen,
and is under the wheels of the car. I almost know he is
dead, so evident does it appear ; but, thank heaven, he is
not. He is got out, and on examination it is found that he

NE W YORK IN SUMMER. 283
only has sustained a nervous shock, while a small bone in
his shoulder is broken.
I go to Father M'Carthy, Forty-second Street, where I
am to preach to-morrow. His servant, Mary Ryan, knew
me at home. She was servant at the Mercy Hospital when
I was chaplain there.
Sunday. — The heat was so intense that I scarcely closed
my eyes all night. I was frequently forced to rise and pace
about the room. Preached at 10.30 Mass, after which an
old man comes round who knew me at Ballyneen long ago.
I remembered him ; his name was Donovan. The poor
fellow was in tears the whole time he was speaking to me.
Father M'Carthy, who was a spectator of the scene, was.
deeply moved. The day is fearfully hot. I spend the
greatest portion of it with Father M'Carthy and his curate,
Father Brophy.
About three o'clock I come home. At five the sky
darkens, a fierce wind suddenly rises, clouds of dust rush
through the streets. The people fly, anticipating a storm ;
gay dresses are fastest in the race. It is really fearful to
look at, it is so violent, dark and sullen, and seems so to
prognosticate something worse. I look through my window
at the flying crowds — they laugh and shout at the fun of the
thing. Such is the pride of human nature, that when we
are really in distress we laugh to pretend that we are indif
ferent. Then begins the rain ; the huge drops fall heavy,
one by one. Oh, the cool sensation of the wind and rain,
after the heat it is delicious.
I have to go hear a lecture to-night in Father M'Alea's
church, Twenty-fifth Street I go through the gloom, damp
and desolation in the cars, into which some young women

284 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
come, who have folded up in handkerchiefs their saturated
skirts, and appear in their white petticoats, dripping flowers,
blooming still, but blooming damp and bespattered. Father
M'Alea is an old gentleman — a fine old fellow with long
grey locks, and a good deal of the Nestor in his reminis-
cental style of conversation. He is in America for the
last fifty-two years, and is always promising to revisit the
land of his birth. It is not likely that he'll ever do it. The
lecture is well attended.
My friend Mr. Healy comes round — he was at my sermon
to-day, too, with Madamoiselle Contan. He takes me to
the Grand Hotel, Broadway, where we have coffee. A young
lad, perhaps 22 years old, attends us. He speaks English
perfectly, and yet he is French, Dupret, born in France.
Asks me do I speak Irish ? I say yes. He then speaks
Irish, and does it very tolerably. And yet he was never in
Ireland, except for a few days, when a vessel in which he
was sailing put into Sligo through stress of weather. He was
quite a litterateur, a philological phenomenon. "I could
manage the Irish very well," he said, "but the articles and
prepositions bother me." Rather cool for a waiter. But
this is a great country. N.B. — A cant phrase I never heard
before — "Cutting up shines" — somewhat like our "running
a rig," is applied best to a man who unexpectedly pursues a
course of conduct for which the public are not prepared,
e.g., Dr. Dollinger, Pere Hj'acinthe, &c.
Go down this evening by previous arrangement by steamer
to Huntington, L.I., in order to spend two days with Father
Crowley. He comes to town just before we start, and
accompanies us. I described the trip before. We enjoy
the Sound immensely. The scenery exquisite. Reach his

NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 2S5
house at 6.30 p.m. Helena and Caroline are delighted to
see me. They have tea ready, after which we all sit on
hammocks fixed to the trees outside the house, and loll
there in the moonshine, enjoying the cool, refreshing air,
and charmed with the rural silence and solitude, compared
with the din and bustle of New York. We sang old songs,
and my memory, with those two ladies beside me, goes
back to that pleasantest episode in my life, the days I spent
at Coolmountain.
May 2,1st. — Rain, heavy rain, but very refreshing, and
most welcome to the parched earth, which swallows it
up as quickly as it falls. A young gentleman, George C:
O'Donohoe, calls ; he is from Brooklyn, he lounges about
with us the whole day. We were to have a day's fishing, but
the rain has put a stop to it.
Rev. Dr. Farrelly, of Jamaica, L.I., calls and dines, so
does Augustus O'Donohoe, brother of George aforesaid.
The rain lightens, but it scarcely ceases all through the day,
so that we can only lounge about. A little variety is caused
by the fact, as announced in the papers, that in the village
to-day, at 1 p.m., a gentleman (Mr. Rocknell), a celebrated
horse-tamer or trainer, is to appear and illustrate his science,
with a view to getting pupils at five dollars a head. He
was to take out restive, unmanageable horses and make
them "cut up ail sort o' shines" in the public street. I
doubted it, having come to the conclusion lately that there
is nothing at all wonderful in the world; wonders exist
only in man's imagination. Like the hero of the comedy,
" L Homme Blast f I have tried everything, and "there's
nothing in it." But we go down to the village. There is
a crowd, and a man is haranguing, them from a carriage, to

586 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
which a pair of horses are attached. It appears he had
just driven those horses "all round," and that he made
them do all kinds of obediences. But the burden of his
speech is not only that he can train any horse, but that he
can teach others to do the same ; let them come, then, and
put down their names ; the charge is only five dollars. He
has a bit here — a bit mounted by himself — " the bit of bits,"
as he modestly called it, and also a book on the horse,
written by himself. The bit and book can be had for two
¦dollars. In all this there seemed a good deal of the char
latan. When a number of names had been booked he
¦commenced another performance. This consisted in bringing
forth a pure milk-white steed, his own property, and placing
him in a ring formed of a rope held by the people all round.
This steed he made do all kinds of things — walk, dance,
¦snort, yawn, fetch a handkerchief, nod assent, smile with
satisfaction, and frown with fury — point its forefoot or hind-
foot as ordered, put out its tongue, and do a variety of
¦other things. It was curious and amusing, but not wonder
ful, as I have seen horses do exactly the same in a circus.
Another horse he produced, and a greyhound. The latter
he made jump on the horse's back, and stand or sit while
the horse galloped round. Nothing very wonderful here,
except that the poor dog seemed to be in agony between
the fear of the whip on the one hand, and the fear of a toss
on the other. But no savage horse was experimented on,
no volunteer brute. I only beheld a piece of task-work,
done, I suppose, the same way every day in the year by
the same performer ; yet it was a diversion to us in a small
village on a rainy day.
June \st. — The fun is all over and depression succeeds.

NE W YORK IN SUMMER 2 8 7
We rise sleepy at five — breakfast in moody silence — bid
farewell — go off in a tumble-down old stage — get on board
the steamer. The morning is misty, but it soon brightens
up, and reveals, the glories of the scenery. We pass through
Hell Gate, which, by the way, is about being blasted, and
reach the city about 9.30 o'clock. Spent the evening
with a Mr. O'Mahony, of Clinton Avenue, Brooklyn. Mr.
O'Mahony is a Cork man, and I was informed that he wished
to know me, and give me a contribution for the Cork
Cathedral. I found him and his wife living in a magnificent
house in a fashionable quarter — a house splendidly and
elegantly furnished. Why will people speak with contempt
of the Irish ? They only want fair play for the exercise of
their talents and industry. If they gain wealth they know
how to purchase with it the rational enjoyments of life, and
to adapt themselves to an exalted position as well as people
of any other nationality of the world. Mr. O'Mahony has a
splendid library, and if I am to judge by his conversation, he
makes good use of it. He thought I might be induced to
remain for the night, and proposed that we should go across
to Mr. M'Conville's, a friend over the way, who keeps a
billiard table. But I compromised matters ; I said I would
come to-morrow evening, and that we could play billiards as
long as we pleased, and that I would sleep at the Chateau
O'Mahony. June 2nd. — Very warm day. I divert myself writing a
description of the " Cork River," which I shall probably have
published in one of the papers here. In the evening I go
to Brooklyn to Mr. O'Mahony and sup with him and Mrs.
O'Mahony. At 8 o'clock we go across to Mr. M'Conville's.
Mr. M'Conville is a self-made Irishman, very wealthy, living

288 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
in a palatial residence on Clinton Avenue. A smart man,
as is evinced by his success in life. Here are a Mr. O'Rorke
and a Mr. Hennessy, the latter a Cork man, both well to do
in the world. Mr. Hennessy is a Commissioner of Educa
tion. We play billiards. The game is different from the
English. There are four balls and no side pockets. To
pocket yourself scores against you. What we call a
" Cannon," they call a " Carvin." What we call a " Fluke,"
they call a " Scratch." The general principle of the game,
however, is the same as ours. I have been struck on more
occasions than this by the temperance of those with whom
I came in contact. Here abstinence seems to be the rule,
or if not abstinence, at least moderation. The cigar appears
to be the common luxury. I am happy to say that amongst
the clergy, as far as my experience goes, temperance appears
to be the rule. Indeed, after one year I am able to say that
I have not met in society any gentleman, lay or clerical, the
worse for drink. The impressions on this matter which I
had before coming here have been erased. Calumny and
prejudice injure countries as well as individuals.
N.B. — Nothing is more remarkable in this country than
the literary mediocrity of the newspapers. Perhaps the least
entitled to respect is the leading journal, the Herald. In
its articles and in its correspondence — in fact all through it
— there is a coarseness, a vulgarity, a cant, a recklessness
of style, debasing to literature. This remark applies more
or less to the other organs, especially the smaller ones, such
as the Sun, Star and Globe. In all there is a disposition to
treat all kinds of subjects, even the most grave and solemn, in
a spirit of levity — every feeling is sacrificed for a joke. In
treating matters of the most serious nature, there is a play on

NE W YORK IN SUMMER. . 28,9

words. The writer never ascends to dignity, or if he does, he
jumps down again into absurdity. Even when enforcing
morality he appears to scoff at it, thus, the Herald, while cor
recting those who ignore eternal punishment, describes it as
" perpetual roasting," clearly proving that he ridicules the idea
which he pretends to preach. In this general condemnation of
the Press literature of New York, I do not include the Times,
Tribune or (very pointedly) the World. The last mentioned
paper is slightly tainted with the common vice, but not
much. The Times and Tribune are dignified. But in almost
all is one patent vulgarity, and that is a desire for alliteration
in headings. I subjoin a few headings of this kind —
"Personal Prattle," "Literary Lispings," "Cream ofthe
Courts," "Feminine Fancies," "Poor Paris," "Suburban
Scraps," "Brooklyn Briefs," "Literary Locals," "Lectures,"
&c, and in allusion to a terrible mine accident, in which
some twenty lives were lost, at a place called Pittston,
"Pittston Pitt." I shall note down others as I go along.
Enough for the present.
" Shining," i.e., shoe-blacking, is not a bad business. One
of those boys tell me they , earn about two dollars a day. A
number of them swarm around our hotel all day, way laying
the guests as they come in or out, and shouting " Shine ? "
Their costume is by no means elegant, and is of peculiar
frailty, generally weakest at the knees, and cleanliness is no
characteristic of the craft. There seems to exist a strong
spirit of fraternity amongst them, as is evinced by mutual
accommodation of trade materials, and also, strange as it
may sound, by an exchange of books and newspapers. But
I very much fear that the class of literature to which those
hangers on of Crispin devote themselves, is not of a very-
u

29° DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
recherchk or improving character, and that it dwells more
on the exploits of " Jack Sheppard " and " Captain Kidd,"
than those of "Julius Cassar" or " Rollo, the Dane."
However, a love of reading is commendable in the shoe
black, and the boy who "shined" me this morning was
amused when I reminded him, in reference to the book he
had just laid aside, that " he was equally diligent in polishing
his own intellect as he was in brightening the understandings
of mankind." All the glory and pride of his profession was
awakened in him. He felt that to be a shoe-black was
indeed to be something, and that what had been said of him
could not have been applied without the very bitterest
sarcasm to Ulysses S. Grant, President though he is of the
United States.
June iifh. — Drove in a carriage and "double team" with
Father Mooney, to Jerome Park, to the races, a distance
from town of some twelve miles. The day was fine, but the
wind made the dust unpleasant. We passed by the great
new cathedral which I had not seen for a year ; it is advancing
rapidly, and is truly magnificent — white marble — but it
appears to me to be too short — 350 feet long. It will be a
splendid church, but I do not see how it can ever be called
a grand cathedral, comparing it with those of Europe. We
drove through the Central Park, which is truly grand —
everything looked so fresh and bright to me who had not
had a drive for several months. There was a great lack ot
enthusiasm at these races, nothing like what we have at
home, although in this instance the style was not trotting,
but "jockey riding" and hurdle as well as flat races.
The " people" were not there, but fashion was there in full
fling, and on our return home the equipages that passed us

NE W YORK IN SUMMER. 291

by were gorgeous, many of them, while all were elegant.
There was the inevitable Helmbold and his six horses, there
also was the irrepressible Jim Fisk — there was the demi
monde and its attaches— boisterous, rollicking, and gaudy.
The racing was poor compared with ours — the contest for
precedence coming home was remarkable, fast trotters, once
over " nothing in it."
Spent the evening with a family named Walter — the father
Irish— came out poor — has made a fortune. The old story,
he cannot see why every Irishman should not come to
America. He could not live in Ireland now — would not be
happy there no matter how wealthy he might be. When I
tell him I could not live in America, he stares and wonders.
He loves Ireland to be sure, and longs for her freedom,
et cetera, but as a place to live in, he regards it as one might
regard Labuan or Honolulu. The two things that Irish
people in America have against Ireland are ; first, the diffi
culty of making a fortune or a living there ; and secondly, the
grinding oppression of the law, as compared with the large
freedom and equality • that exist in this great continent.
Equality ; a very good thing, but like all other theories, some
times awkward in practice. For example: in the Comp
troller's office, are gentlemen with salaries ranging from
two thousand to ten thousand dollars a year. Now these
salaries enable all those gentlemen to live in a manner quite
in keeping with the name of gentlemen ; and I must say,
having met them all, that they are equal in respectability to
most persons I have met at the other side of the Atlantic.
Nevertheless, the very door-keeper, a man named Reardon,
addresses Mr. Lyons as " Stephen," and sometimes with the
still closer familiarity of the diminutive " Steeve "—while

2 9 2 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
this very evening a young shoe-black who turns in to clean
the boots of the gentlemen before going home, when asked
by " Major O'Rorke," another official, to clean his boots,
says " Right away, I have to shine Mike's first," Mike being
Mr. Michael Maloney. This is equality with a vengeance-
Charley O'Connell told me last evening that Dr. Byrne
had invited him and me to the Jerome Park races for to-day.
I accept the invitation. Charley meets me at 10.30, and
Dr. Byrne joins us soon after. We proceed by car to
Twenty-first Street, where we are introduced by Dr. Byrne
to his friend Mr. Moore, and Mr. Connolly, a common
friend, turns in by appointment. We proceed to the races in
two open carriages with a pair of horses each — both magnifi
cent turn-outs ; Mr. Moore, Charley and I in one car, Mr.
Connolly, Dr. Byrne, and two young Connellys in the other.
Mr. Moore is a rich man, an Irishman, who is the first of
his countrymen that sought to make a living by the manu
facture of Weiss-Bier — a beverage theretofore exclusively
brewed by Germans. Wherever I go to-day I see something
indicating the success of my countrymen here, either in good
or evil.
Rain had fallen in the morning, and the roads were in
splendid condition. The Park was superb. We stopped
at a restaurant en route, and while the horses were being
refreshed, Mr. Moore pointed out three men to me, and
told me the middle man was Joe Coburn (Irish), the most
celebrated pugilist in America. Joe is a decent-looking
fellow, and as much like a gentleman as most other "gentle
men" here. He and his companions go off in a "light
wagon with a double team," or what we would call a "car
riage and pair." Passing through the Park we observed

NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 293
the statue of Professor Morse, erected a few days ago (I
should have said unveiled). Professor Morse, they say,
invented the electric telegraph, and still lives, thus affording
one of the rare instances of a man having a statue erected
to him during his lifetime. The statue is bronze, and it
was executed by an Irishman named Power. The course
is reached ; we go on the grand stand, where we recognise
many friends, who swarm round us, and form " quite a
party." The events of the day are very interesting, the
horses very well bred, the racing good jockey-racing, all
flat. Here again my countrymen distinguished themselves.
Three Irishmen won — men with the very Hibernian names
of Coffee, Kelly and Shea. Indeed whenever an Irishman's
horse went out he came in the winner. Mr. Moore, whom
I instructed to point out all the celebrities to me as they
turned up, next directed my attention to "Reddy, the black
smith," who might be called " the hardest case of a rowdy "
in New York. Reddy is famous for many daring exploits,
the last of which was the killing, in a drinking saloon, of a
bigger rowdy than himself— namely, Jimmy Hagerty. The
murderer was acquitted for two reasons : first, because he
was acting in self-defence -the other, because " he has im
mense political influence." Reddy is an Irishman ; he is a
low, square-built, hard-featured man with a white coat,
Panama hat, put on recklessly, and a thick red moustache.
Several fellows who owe him a grudge are watching for the
opportunity of doing for him, and they will, thus saving the
hangman a great deal of bother, and the public a great deal
of maudlin cant.
When the races were over, the first man that started
for home was Jim Fisk. Mr. Moore also pointed to me

2 94 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
Mr. Vanderbilt, the richest man in America. He is an old,
slight gentleman, with white hair, whiskers and neckcloth,
and wearing spectacles. Thus, in one day I saw the richest
man in America, the first roue, the first pugilist, and the first
rowdy. All are equally looked after, all are equally cele
brated. We spent a very pleasant day. No expense was
spared, and the journey was delightful, in every sense of the
word. The Archbishop was administering confirmation to-day in
St. James's church, and I was invited to dinner. It was a
very stylish entertainment, and was supplied by Delmonicos.
The Archbishop, though apparently grave, yet has a good
fund of humour in his composition, and tells very good
anecdotes; but if I were a bishop, I too would be very
anecdotal. It only requires to have a good supply of stories,
and to get an audience. I have the stories, and if ever I
become a bishop, people will listen through respect. One
point only do I wish to note here. The Archbishop said
that the failing population of native Americans, though often
ascribed to crime, must be also attributed, in a great mea
sure, to the effeminacy and delicacy produced in both sexes,
and particularly women, by the heating of houses in winter.
I have not the slightest doubt of it He told how being on
one occasion on a visit, in Paris, at the house of a vicomte,
it being mid-winter, he sat at the fire, and could scarcely
warm himself. He observed the two daughters of the
vicomte at a distance near the window, and he invited them
to share the warmth of the fire ; but their noble father
forbade them, saying, " There are only two fires allowed in
this house at any time — one in the kitchen and one in this
parlour ; the latter has been prepared solely for your lord-

NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 295
ship. My sons do not need a fire, for they can warm them
selves by out-door exercise. My daughters must abstain
from the luxury of warmth, for they are to be the mothers
of soldiers."
In Ireland, and Europe generally, bishops are addressed
" My Lord," or what is equivalent to it in the other languages.
Not so in America. There you say, " Yes, Bishop," " No,
Archbishop," simply. Bishop M'Closkey amused us by
telling how when he went to Ireland first, on meeting with
a bishop, the ' ' My Lord " stuck in his democratic throat,
and could only be got up at a second attempt
June 24th. — My foot being sore I remained at home
through the day. In the evening my friend Healy called,
and so did C. W. O'C, the latter provided with a written
order for the admission of myself and friends to the balcony
of the City Hall, to witness the procession of the Saenger-
bund. And what is the Saengerbund? The Germans we
know are proverbially a musical people, and in America
there are almost in all important cities affiliated choral
societies leagued in a band of union, and assuming the name
of the Saengerbund. The coming week there is to be a
great Saengerfest, and this evening the proceedings are to
be opened. The representatives of the various choral
societies of this continent have arrived, and have arranged
to march 2,000 strong before the City Hall at 8 o'clock,
when they will be received and welcomed by the mayor.
On that occasion there is to be a grand choral performance
in the open air by the 2,000 members of the Saengerbund,
and it is to witness this spectacle, and to hear this magnifi
cent concert that I and my friends have resolved. The
various houses in New York where Germans reside have been

296 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
made festive with innumerable flags and filial decorations
arranged with that promptitude and taste in which the
children of the Fatherland are justly distinguished at home
and abroad. From several windows banners are hung out
with such inscriptions as " Willkommen, Sangerbriider,"
&c, &c.
The citizens generally of every nationality, except the
French, laud the enterprise, the taste, the patriotism, and
peacefulness of the German character. They are a very
law-abiding people, and the mingled flags of Germany and
America flaunting from their windows and housetops attest
their blended feelings of patriotic attachment to the country
they have relinquished, and to that which they have adopted.
It is to be regretted that the Irish do not emulate their
spirits of unanimity in national undertakings. Were they to
do so, there is no power in America that could resist their
influence, but where most of their enthusiasm should be
aroused they sink into apathy, or only make a show that
reveals their weakness, when it might show forth their magni
tude and strength.
About 8 o'clock we three proceed to the City Hall, where
only a very select few are admitted, but our order has a
talismanic influence on the sturdy janitor. We are ushered
upstairs to a splendid .suite of apartments where I had been
last year — large rooms ornamented with the pictures of
America's great men. Here is arranged a supper table, and
the " big bugs " gradually arrive. From the prevalence of the
German tongue, I know that few except Germans are present.
But Mayor Hall recognises me, and invites me to drink some
^Rheinwein, which I do. He and I hobnob, much to the
surprise of the by-standers. I introduce O'Connell and

NE W YORK IN SUMMER. 297

Healy to His Worship— I should have said " His Honor."
The sound of instrumental music reminds us that the
fraternity of song are mustering their forces below. Through
an open window we enter on the balcony overlooking the
City Hall Park (what a misnomer is " park," by the way).
It is misting slightly, but the rain does not damp the spirits
ofthe irrepressible " Dutchman " (a name given to all here
who have any connection with Teutonism). On the balcony
a gentleman makes a calcium light which illumines the whole
park. 2,000 Chinese lanterns hanging from poles are held
in the hands of the Sangerbiind. Below the Mayor and
other gentlemen stand on an improvised dais with
scarlet carpet and swathed in banners, all tastefully
illumined with Chinese lanterns. Ten thousand people
must be around, for it is a rare attraction. The rain
increases. My friend, Healy, remarks that, " Heretofore in
America the rain was rare, but now it was overdone." I
told him that his wit must be boiling over. A sketcher
from an illustrated paper was taking down the scene from a
spot near us. " But V homme propose et Dieu dispose." Down
faster and faster came the rain — the lightning flashed, and
the thunder rolled, and the huge drops fell heavier and
heavier. At last it descended with such fury that no human
enthusiasm could withstand it. Ten minutes produced the
most wonderful change in the scene. Where thousands of
lights gleamed, now all was darkness, and the Chinese
lanterns lay in saturated fragments on the ground. Where
ten thousand people, men and women, stood in breathless
expectation of festive song, now not a trace of humanity
was visible. Only a huge cannon pealed forth its thunder,
and lit up the darkness with its sudden flashes. Men,

e98 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
women, light and song — all melted away, like the feverish
phantoms of a dream, like the "baseless fabric of a vision."
Sunday, June 2^th. — Lovely day, A new church is to be
consecrated to-day by the Archbishop, at Mott Haven, on
the Harlem River. The curate of Mott Haven at present
is the Rev. B.  , whose father taught him and me Latin
grammar together much more than "twenty golden years
ago." Twenty-two years have elapsed since I met him. I
resolved to fulfil the romantic desire of seeing him to-day.
By arrangement I call on Mr. Healy at his lodgings, Fifth
Avenue, and proceed with him to Mott Haven. This place
is reached many ways, but we go by the Third Avenue cars,
and reach Harlem on one side of the river. We cross the
Harlem bridge on foot, and find ourselves at Mott Haven.
We reach the house of the pastor, Father Hughes, and I
soon catch sight of B  . I recognise him at once, and
ask, " Did you ever see me before ? " He replies rather
gruffly that he does not know. I tell him who I am, and
the announcement does not seem to move him much. In
a word, it seemed to make no difference to him whether I
was an utter stranger or an old school-fellow ; but I reposed
in the consciousness of having gratified a worthy feeling of
my own.
The Americans are a great paper-reading people. "What
paper in New York has the largest circulation ? " asked
somebody. " Of course The Sun— it goes round the earth
every twenty-four hours ¦ — -the largest circulation in the
world." Newspaper gentlemen have a great many cant
phrases. " Piling up the agonies " means heaping Pelion
on Ossa, of horrible description.
June 27th. — Lovely morning, charming country. We

NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 299
drive, i.e., Father Crowley, Charley, " Gus " and I, in two
carriages, to a place called Westhills, the highest point in
Long Island, and most probably the first American land I
ever saw. It commands a splendid view, reaching from
the Connecticut shore all round the Atlantic, as far as the
" palisades " of the Hudson. The scenery at our feet of the
surrounding country is very beautiful. Indeed Huntington
has been styled the " Garden of Long Island." Splendid
cedars grow quite commonly here, even along the road-ways,
also locusts, a tree somewhat resembling acacia, wild cherry
trees, pines, oaks,- &c. There. is said to be a tulip tree here
seven feet in diameter. I have not seen it, and shall be
dubious till I do. Indian corn is cultivated all round, and
the ripe fields of maize resemble our full grown wheat crop.
The roads might be better — dusty in summer, slushy in
winter. The land is mostly undulating, and there is a great
deal of wood. The country villas are all beautiful. No two
styles are alike, and there is a freshness and gaiety about
them, and such an array of flowers, as indicates extreme
neatness and taste. They look charming on the slopes of
the landscape, lawn before and protecting fields behind.
There is no poverty here, no begging. The farmers all own
their land in fee. There is a solitary policeman in the town.
The nigger population is large. There is an air of comfort
everywhere. June 2,0th. — Am much better, though not quite well.
Have a visit from C. W. O'C. He speaks of a friend, Major
Haverty, who informed him that of the book-buying portion
of the public six-tenths are Cork people. This is creditable
to the literary taste of my fellow citizens. Charley takes me
out and makes me accept a present of a pair of French crystal

300 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
spectacles, purchased in Broadway for six dollars. They
are excellent glasses. He and I soon afterwards experienced
an attempt at cheating us, which fortunately proved unsuc
cessful. Charley was thinking of buying a Panama hat.
Now Panama hats are very expensive, but there are cheap
ones, too, and an uninitiated purchaser does not well see the
difference. We went into a shop whose speciality was straw
hats. Charley took up a Panama.
" What is the price ? " he asked.
" Twenty dollars," was the reply.
The young man who made the answer then disappeared,
and another man came on the scene, probably the " boss "
of the establishment.
" Well, sir, don't that hat suit you ? "
" It is too dear," says Charley.
" Dear !" he cried. "Sir, I can give you that hat for
four dollars less than any other man can give it."
" That may be," says Charley, " but I can't afford to give
twenty dollars for it."
" Twenty dollars ? " said the man. " Why, sir, the price
is only six dollars." We then informed the man that the
other had demanded twenty.
" Oh," cried this one, " he doesn't know anything about
it." We sought the first to confront him with the second,
but he was not to be found. We then clearly saw that the
first fellow had tried a swindle on our ignorance and credulity,
and the second seeing the failure of the scheme was glad to
sell the hat at its real value. But Charley was disgusted,
and we made no investment then.
I went this evening with Mr. Williams, whom I had met

NE W YORK IN SUMMER 3oi

at Mr. Barry's last Sunday evening. Mr. Barry also was
with us, and another young gentleman, an Englishman,
named Anderson. We dined at the table d'hote. It was a
boarding-house. What nuisances those boarding-houses are.
The company are mixed — ladies and gentlemen — all
strangers to each other, while the lady of the house pre
sides and carves the joint or joints as the case may be.
Silence for tbe most part prevails. In the present instance,
however, it was rudely broken by a gentleman with a very
Yankee air and voice, crying out to the servant, " Don't
remove that plate. You should know better. When a
gentleman has dined he lays the knife and fork parallel on
his plate. Mine were not parallel, but at a very obtuse
angle. Again " (pointing to his tea-cup) " when I have done
with my tea I place the spoon in the saucer; when not done
I leave it in the cup." These words, uttered with great
force and precision, made us all smile. He soon left the
table, and we all fell a-chatting like old familiar friends. I
fancy that on occasions of such miscellaneous gatherings at
table — whether in boarding-houses or hotels — any man who
would set everyone talking would be not only clever, but a
very benevolent member of society, for everyone is anxious
that the spell should be broken, but nobody knows how to
break it.
After dinner we four sat and had cigars on a piazza. It
was agreed that America was before England, nay Europe,
in many things, particularly hotels — the fires department —
peculiar made-up drinks — enterprise of all kinds — employing
men on their merits and not on the recommendation of
friends "interest" as it is called — insurances (every American
insures his property, one third part of Englishmen don't).

302 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.

Newspapers— at least the Herald, which, despite an opinion
I have elsewhere expressed, is superior to the London Times
in the immense machinery by which it is worked, and in
every other respect, except the material, paper, and the
elegance of style.
A number of young " gentlemen " are here, lately come out
from Cork looking for employment. Of five that I know,
one only succeeded, the rest are several weeks here and can
get absolutely nothing to do. What a mistake those young
men's parents make ; they have educated their children for
the professions ; the professions are over-stocked ; the super
fluity come out here. They have education — it is not wanted.
What is wanted here is work. These young men are now
ready to do any kind of work in order to keep body and
soul together. Here work is honourable — at home it is de
grading. How absurd. Try to enforce these lessons at home.
To-day I leave by steamer at 3.50 for Haverstraw on the
Hudson. Lovely evening — magnificent scenery — wide river,
at one side perpendicular cliffs,' called the palisades ; at the
other sloping wooded lawns with gorgeous residences vary
ing ever in style — all elegant, many palatial. Mount St.
Vincent is a splendid red-brick Convent of Mercy, immense
in length, elegant in style, charming situation over the river.
In front of it is a stone castle belonging to the nuns, built by
Edwin Forrest the great actor, for his residence, but given by
him to the nuns. We passed Yonkers, a lovely town on the
river; splendid country seats all round — Tarrytown the
same — Irvington, close to which is the house of Washington
Irving— Sing-Sing, the place ofthe great State Prison of New
York. Then came Haverstraw— a great brick-making place,
at the foot of very steep wooded cliffs. Lovely country ali

NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 303
around. Warren Village is the real name of the town ;
Haverstraw is the name of the "ploughland," one-fourth
of Rockland County. Close by is Rockland Lake, where
the choicest ice is found for the use of the New Yorkers.
The village, however is now called Haverstraw — the greatest
brick -making place in the State.
July 22,rd. — George, Gus, and I go on board a sloop laden
with bricks, and cross Long Island Sound, thirty-five miles,
to Bridgeport. The voyage with a good breeze would only
take three hours, but there is no wind, and so we take very
much longer. Bridgeport is a nice town. The surburbs are
very beautiful. It is the birthplace of Tom Thumb, whose
family, excepting himself, were all of more than the average
size. The celebrated Barnum lives here, when he is at home,
which is seldom. One of the finest houses in the suburbs
here is that of Wilson or Wheeler, I cannot say which, one
of the great sewing-machine firm. The great charm of the
villas here is the wonderful variety of their styles, as well as
their extraordinary beauty of design. They are mostly frame
houses, and their beauty is much enhanced by abundant
foliage and well-kept gardens.
At ten o'clock we leave by the Nangatuck railroad for
Waterbury, of which my old friend and class-mate, Tom
Hendricken, now " Doctor," is pastor. The distance from
Bridgeport is eighty-six miles — scenery pretty, hills and
rivers ; several villages and small towns on the way.
Dr. Hendricken is not at home. Hard, as I have not seen
him for eighteen years. He is on retreat at Worcester;
but his servant treats us with a hospitality that augurs well
for his own. Waterbury is a manufacturing town, with
14,000 inhabitants.

304 DIAR Y OF A, TOUR IN AMERICA.
We go off again by rail, thirty-six miles, for Newhaven,
one of the finest cities of New England, on the Sound. It
is much unlike American cities generally — a good deal of
brick and stone, somewhat like an English town. Here is
our hotel, the Newhaven Hotel, a very fine one, and right
before it, buried in trees, and surrounded by grass plots, is
Yale College, one of the most celebrated in all America.
We spend a pleasant evening.
July 26th. — After breakfast we walk through the grounds
of Yale College, a large aggregate of detached buildings,
without any pretensions to style. It was vacation, and there
was nothing to be seen. We hire a carriage, and drive
around for two hours ; but it is wet, and we have to change
from a landau to a brougham. The scenery of the suburbs
is like that of Bridgeport — very beautiful ; but the houses
are more frequently of stone than of wood. No place looks
well in rain, and so with Newhaven. It was dreary and
damp, but evidently a wealthy and important city.
At 5.45 we go off by rail to Hartford, the chief city of
Connecticut, distance also thirty-six miles, where we arrive
by express in one hour. We stroll through the town, and
admire it very much ; but we are weary and ennuyes, and
so we retire early.
July 27th. — Breakfast at 8.30, after which we hire an open
carriage, and drive for some hours all through and around
Hartford. The same characteristics of scenery as elsewhere.
Charming suburbs, fine villas, many trees, and perfect
horticulture. We see the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, the
Lunatic Asylum, and Trinity College, and the magnificent
residence of Colt, whose name is associated with the famous
revolvers. This is one of the finest houses I have seen in

NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 305
this country, charmingly situated, with splendid scenery
all around — the Connecticut River beneath, and the ground
adjacent laid out in the very highest style of artistic taste.
We also see Colt's Revolver Factory, a huge pile of build
ings, where hundreds of men are employed. In the neigh
bourhood, and quite in the country, is one of the loveliest
little Gothic churches I ever saw, built of brown stone.
It was built out of the private purse of Mrs. Holt, at a cost
of 250,000 dollars. Evidently no expense was spared on
the exterior, and the driver assured us that the interior was
beyond all conception, magnificent. Strange, that money
made by the manufacture of instruments for taking human
life should be devoted to the erection of an edifice intended
to promote the glory of God !
After a very pleasant drive we take the train back to
Bridgeport. Here we stop at the Atlantic Hotel. We
expected to find the sloop preparing for a return trip to
Huntington, but there was no sign of it.
July 28th.— Up early; we strained our eyes looking for
the sloop, but there was no sloop. We were therefore
obliged to come to New York (fifty-three miles) by train.
This evening coming down in the boat I had a good speci
men of the democracy of this country. A young nigger
boy, about fourteen years old, employed by the ship, was
going around, crying out " ice cream," at ten cents a plate.
He asked me would I have some, but I said "no; but
there is a man below with peaches. Would you, like a
good boy, fetch me up a quart of them?" He looked,
smiled, and coolly replied :
" You are poor enough to be your own servant."
Politeness is a rare thing to find in America. On
X

306 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
another occasion in the same boat, a drunken man came
and sat beside me. He tried to draw me into conversa
tion, but I said, "Now, my dear friend, I am not dis
posed to talk. Would you kindly go and sit somewhere
else?" "This is a free country," he replied.
" Then," said I, " I shall avail myself of that freedom, and
I shall sit elsewhere."
There is a nice letter from Rev. Dr. Hendricken, regret
ting his absence on the day I called, and expressing the
warmest affection for his old friend and class-mate. A few
days afterwards comes a newspaper in which it is stated that
the State of Connecticut is to be severed from that of Rhode
Island, with which it has been hitherto united as part of one
diocese, and become a distinct diocese in itself, with Dr.
McFarland as bishop, and that. of the three names which
have been sent off to the Pope for the new episcopate of
Rhode Island, Dr. Hendricken stands first.
July 2gth and following days were spent in one dull
monotony, so that it is quite impossible for me to adhere any
longer, at least for the present, to the resolution I formed at
the beginning of the year, and to which I have thus far
steadily adhered, of noting down specially the events of
every day. Where there are no events there is nothing to
record. The weather is intensely hot. I can only read,
write, drive, lounge, bathe, and keep off musquitoes and flies
which are a horrible bore. I have got a letter from my
bishop, in which he hints that he wishes me to desist from
going to " Frisco " until he hears from his brother to whom
he has written on the subject. I have been shocked on
reading in the Examiner of the death of my friend, Mr.

NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 307
Eugene Shine, who gave me an entertainment last year at
the St. Nicholas Hotel. R.I.P.
August 15th.— A great clam-bake takes place to-day on
the shore about a mile from Huntington. And what is a
clam-bake ? Well, there is a small fish, called a clam, of
which I have already spoken, and it seems to be considered
by Americans a great delicacy. On certain occasions, duly
advertised, the public assemble at a certain spot, generally
picturesque, where thousands of clams are previously pro
vided by persons who make the matter a pecuniary
speculation. Those thousands of clams are gathered into
one immense heap, under which wood has been piled, and
they are covered over with rods, twigs, and branches of
trees. The wood is set fire to, and the clams are roasted.
The public, which at a clam-bake as at other gatherings,
is miscellaneous, embracing every sex, age, and condition,
assemble and spend the day. The whole thing assumes a
holiday aspect. Families bring their basket with cold pro
visions, not daring to trust to the monotonous and precarious
clam. Long tables are arranged on the grounds from which
the speculators aforesaid vend various descriptions of pota
tion, generally mild; proceeding in strength from the
vapidity of ginger-pop to the very resistible force of Lager
bier. The performance is varied by several concerted and
casual operations, the latter left to the humour of the crowd
and jolly or otherwise, according to circumstances. The
Huntington Clam-bake was looked forward to as one of the
great annual events ofthe place, an event so important that the
local papers — the Suffolk (Co.) Bulletin and the Huntington
Independent [?] — made allusion to its forthcoming some
weeks before the event, and intensified allusion in the direct

308 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
ratio of its proximity. In the issue immediately preceding
the great event, the eye of the reader wandered down
column after column of the paper, and his eagerness for
something new was ever disappointed by ingeniously varied
allusions to the great clam-bake of the 15th. Thus:
" Prepare, prepare— the day is at hand. At Bouton's Point,
on the 15th comes off the great Clam-bake." Again, "The
event of the period— the great Clam-bake of the 15th.
Secure your tickets in time ; only one dollar entrance to the
grounds. See Mr. Atkins at once." "What!" you ex
claim, as your eye runs down the columns of the paper, " is
it nothing but clam-bake ? " You turn over to the third
page or to the fourth as caprice suggests, and while you
peruse an account of the meeting of some local board, or
amuse yourself amongst literary excerpts from standard
periodicals of the day, your eye is suddenly arrested by a ,
short interposed paragraph about " St. Clambake, whose
festival falls on the 15th, and which is to be celebrated at
Bouton's Point." Where every visitor is expected to
" offishiate" on that auspicious occasion, etc. ; or "Beauties
of Huntington ! They will be all at the Clam-bake on
Tuesday." "Terpsichore! who will refuse fo witness thy
performances on Tuesday next at the great Huntington
Clam-bake ! " and thus ad the infinititm of the fatigued
imagination of a newspaper editor who is a great and
particular friend of Mr. Atkins, and the party Mr. Atkins
represents. Of course I must go to the Clam-bake — one
of " our institootions."

A TRIP IN LEA THER STOCKING'S LAND. 309

CHAPTER XI.
A TRIP IN LEATHERSTOCKING'S LAND.
August 17th. — I received a letter yesterday from Sarah
McAuliffe, dated Catskill, saying that she and party, i.e.,
Mrs. Attridge and John, were about to leave for Coopers-
town, the residence of Father Devitt, their particular friend
with whom they would spend some days, and expressing a
hope that I would be able to join them there. Accordingly
this morning I rise early and proceed by stage to the pier
(they call a pier a " dock " in America), distant about three
miles. Here I take the steamboat, the " O. R. Martin,"
and accomplish 35 miles more of the journey, reaching New
York at 9,30 a.m. Thence I proceed to Albany by express
rail, leaving at 10.30 and reaching at 2.45, distance 142
miles. The route lay along the Hudson river, whose beauties
I am never tired of admiring. From Albany I proceed by
"cars" to Cooperstown, distant 91 miles, through the
Susquehannah Valley, a region of great loveliness, embracing
every feature of scenic beauty — undulating grounds, vast
tracts of foliage, smiling well cultivated fields, now " rich
with golden grain." The spiral river now so tiny that it
only " bickers down the valley," now spreading into copious
volume, while at intervals of every seven or eight miles,
some charming village, such as Richardville, decorates the
scene, reposing in the valley beneath, and from its white
walled houses throwing back the reflected brightness of the
August sun. This railroad extends from Albany to Bing-

310 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
hampton, but at a certain junction I deflect from Coopers-
town, distant 16 miles. I reach the town just about twelve
hours after I had left Huntington, having traversed in that
space of time by land and water a distance of 271 miles,
and accomplished it perfectly at my ease, either inhaling
the fresh morning breeze from the deck of a steamboat, or
lounging on the luxurious cushions of a Pullman's Palace
Car. On arriving, the porter of the " Cooper House," the
great hotel of Cooperstown, accosts me, and finding what I
wanted he, with that genuine courtesy so peculiar to an
Irishman when dealing with a priest, undertakes to conduct
me to Father Devitt's house, but requests that meanwhile I
would stay for a few moments at the hotel while he was
superintending the stowing away of some luggage just
arrived. I assent. The hotel is close by, and I sit on a
sofa in the large hall. Here is unusual bustle, as if some
great festive event were coming off. The sofa of which I
speak stood in the midst of a long broad corridor running
the whole length of the hotel, and confronting a large
square hall which forms the entrance. The floor of the
corridor is carpeted and the walls all around are adorned with
pictures. Into the corridor several doors open, through which
are constantly emerging groups of ladies and gentlemen, all
attired in ball costume, while the sounds of soft music are
heard not far off. The gay groups parade up and down the
corridor, chatting, laughing, and displaying their bright
plumage in the glaring light of many lamps and chandeliers,
while some fascinating damsels decoy their beaux to a table
in the hall where are spread for sale a vast variety of
bouquets (always pronounced " boque'ts," accent on second
syllable), "dearly bought for ladies." I fancy a great ball

A TRIP IN LEATHERSTOCKING'S LAND. 311
is about to go forward, for in addition to the ladies and
gentlemen, groups of children, boys and girls, very gaily
dressed, play and run around, making the air still more
musical by their shouts and ringing laughter. It is a bright
scene, and one which, though no participator in its enjoy
ment, I can heartily admire, for why should we not be
happy while we may ? and why not bask in the sunshine of
pleasure, and languish in the perfume of sweet flowers as
long as the pleasure is innocent and as long as the sweet
flowers bloom ?
I rise and view the pictures on the walls. Here is a
splendid photograph of an old gentleman with very regular
well-defined features, an eye of wonderful sharpness, and a
forehead worthy of a Plato. Who is he ? I cannot help
inquiring, and find that he is William Cullen Bryant, the
celebrated living American poet. Here are portraits of
others, even of less note than Bryant, probably well known
to the visitors of the Cooper House, but as far as my ex
perience goes, undistinguished in the annals of world-wide
fame. The pictures of scenery are very beautiful — one is
"Leatherstocking's Cave," another "Leatherstocking Falls,"
a third "Cooper's Monument," a fourth " Otsego Lake,"
etcetera. I find that I am in a region of great natural beauty, whose
created charms are rendered still more bewitching by the
vivid imagination and the stirring romances of James Fenni-
more Cooper, with whose name and whose works we have
been familiar from our earliest boyhood. More we shall see
as we go on ; but here is the porter now done his work, who
comes to conduct me to Father Devitt's house. We walk
while he takes my valise on his shoulder. It is nearly quite

3 1 2 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
dark, but just as we pass under the gable of the hotel a light
streams out through the windows, and I see in its glare a
party of ladies and gentlemen passing close by me. One
gentleman appears to be a priest, by his costume. I say to
myself that Father Devitt cannot be far off. I see another
gentleman of similar appearance. Then comes a lady who
might pass for Mrs. Attridge, but I am not sure of her. At
length comes another lady, there is no mistaking this one :
it is Sarah. " Hallo," I cry. They all turn round and seem
surprised and confounded. John Attridge comes over to me
and exclaims, " By Jove, 'tis Father Buckley ! " I will not
attempt to picture the astonishment of the whole party, who
never dreamed of me at the moment, and to whom I appeared
as an apparition suddenly dropped from heaven, or elsewhere.
The air was filled with their exclamations of surprise and
delight, but when I informed them of the long journey I had
made in that one day, they regarded me as some great
general of old might have been regarded, who had achieved
a forced march with extraordinary activity, and stood at the
enemy's gates when they deemed him hundreds of miles away.
We go back to Father Devitt's house, and spend a pleasant
evening. I should have mentioned that the porter told me
that the festive proceedings at the Cooper House were
nothing special this evening, but that almost every evening
there was a " hop " of some kind or other.
August 18th. — After breakfast we all proceeded on foot to
the lake Otsego, which I humorously dubbed " Not Sago."
Here we take a yacht and go forth for a day's sailing. The
wind is pretty high, and our helmsman is a young lad named
Joe, who is on a visit with Father Devitt. I do not feel
comfortable at the idea of entrusting our lives to the care of

A TRIP IN LEATHERSTOCKING'S LAND. 313
so very youthful a pilot, although he has acquired much
experience of boating off the Coast of Staten Island as
Father Devitt informs me. Nevertheless we set sail, and are
prepared for the consequence, or rather do not calculate too
nervously on them. A lovely lake is this Otsego, nine miles
long, by an average of three miles broad, the water so greefi
that one might fancy it was rather salt or that it reflected the
vernal hue of the surrounding foliage, for foliage abounds
on every side. On one hand, the left, the land slopes
upwards gently from the lake, and is mostly laid out in
demesne from the midst of which peep out charming houses
fantastically shaped, picturesque country residences of city
millionaires or local magnates, embedded in leafy solitudes.
On the other hand, the land rises all along into the attitude
of a hill or mountain, and is one vast range of forest, remind
ing me of the wooded Tornies that spring from and frown
down upon the lovely Loch Lene, the lower lake of Killarney.
At one point of this mountainous wooded range we discern
the necropolis of Cooperstown, the city of the dead,
indicated by the white tombstones looking down upon us
from amidst the surrounding trees ; and in the midst of our
pleasure, like the page behind the king's triumphal car in
the Roman procession of old, reminding us that we are mortal.
As we sail gaily before the brisk breeze and our view of the
scene is enlarged, we see hills rise behind hills in the distance ;
eminences robed in the "forest primeval," whither, doubt
less the foot of man has not yet reached. A gay little
steamer sounds forth its shrill whistle from the pier, warning
the world that " it" is about to start for the remotest point
ofthe lake, and awakening the thousand slumbering echoes
of the mountains. As she steams past us we perceive that

3 1 4 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
her name inscribed on the paddle-box is " Natty Bumppo,"
and that she is called after one of Cooper's celebrated heroes
of romance. Everything breathes of Cooper in this romantic
region. Amongst the monuments in the cemetery we distin
guish the marble pillar raised to his memory by public
subscription, and further on is the precipitous frontage of
rock beneath which is " Leatherstocking's Cave," and to
which tourists ascend by a wooden staircase constructed for
the purpose.
But the wind grows stronger and stronger as we reach.
the centre of the lake, and the waves rise, and the boat
scuds on like a bird, and her rudder indicates, by its rushing
noise in the water, that we are careering at a tremendous
rate. We deem it imprudent to go farther, lest the gale
may increase or the direction of the wind change, and for
my part, I do not feel comfortable in the hands of the
young pilot, "Joe," who seems somewhat disconcerted at
the responsibility which the increasing storm has placed on
his shoulders. By general consent we turn, but the sail
flapping in the wind, and the frequent lurching of the boat
in the trough of the waves, fill us all with alarm. It is
pretty clear that Joe is not equal to the occasion. The
ladies screamed, and I confess I felt miserable. Some
minutes of this terrible apprehension passed, and we heeded
not the spray rushing over the gunwale, deluging the boat
and drenching us thoroughly. At length we get all right,
and steer for the nearest point of land, which fortunately we
reach in safety. We bathe, and dine, and lounge about on
the grass, and in the sunshine, in sheltered spots where no
breeze blows, and beguile the time in a thousand ways, but
chiefly in talking of the long, long past, on the home of our

A TRIP IN LEATHERSTOCKING'S LAND. 315
birth, and most of all — for that is what now strikes us most
— on the lovely scenery of Lake Otsego. Some few hours
after we prepare to return. The wind has gone down, and we
can scarcely advance a yard. We tack, but make no head
way. We then take the oars, and get on slowly, for the
boat is large, and the oars are small. Thus the evening
creeps on, and we are within two miles of the shore. Sud
denly a fresh gale springs up behind us, the sail is set, and
in five minutes we reach the pier.
August 17th. — The weather is very beautiful, and we are
tempted to go again upon the lake. The temperature here
is very mild. Cooperstown is situated at a height of 1,200
feet above the level of the sea, which makes it constantly
cool, while the refreshing breeze from the lake adds its
quota of mildness to the air. It is needless to say that the
town is called after the Cooper family— not, however, after
the novelist, but his father, Judge Cooper, who came and
settled here in the year 1785. Since that time eighty-six
years have elapsed, and yet the town cannot boast of more
than 2,000 inhabitants ; and yet there are several hotels,
but they are unoccupied except in summer, when thousands
of fashionable visitors throng to enjoy the luxuries which
Nature has here scattered around with so profuse a hand.
¦ Judge Cooper was an important personage in his day. He
came here from Burlington, in New Jersey, in the capacity
of Chief Magistrate, and owner of property around the lake.
On his arrival here, in the double capacity of judge and
landlord, in the year mentioned, the inhabitants of the little
village, thirty-five in number, came forth to welcome " the
lord ofthe manor," and paid him that quasi feudal homage
which has since grown not obsolete, but odious even to the

3 1 6 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
memory of America's fierce Democracy. Here Judge
Cooper was visited by George Washington in 1789, and in
1795 by another distinguished hero of that age — no other
than the famous Prince Talleyrand. By what strange '
impulse of the mind does one indulge in a dreamy pleasure
standing on the spot and gazing on the scenes where the
great men of the past stood and gazed as we do ? I know
not ; but this pleasure I felt as I stood on the borders of
Otsego Lake, and fancied that, perhaps, en this very foot of
ground George Washington developed to Judge Cooper his
military schemes, or Talleyrand cracked seme v/itticisms for
his Worship's amusement
We go on the lake and row to the spot from which tourists
ascend to Lakewood Cemetery, to which I have already
alluded. Here we debark and ascend. The cemetery
slopes up to the very summit of the hill, and is formed by a
succession of terraces, between which the tombs and graves
are placed. A perfect forest of trees encloses and enshrouds
it. The first monument that meets our eye is that of which
I have made mention, the marble monument of Cooper-
On the base are carved the words " Fennimore Cooper."
The pillar is ornamented with carvings indicating the im
plements of savage warfare, and the top is surmounted by
a statue of Chingachgook armed cap-a-pie with feathers and
scalps, with tomahawk and mocassins. This is not the
grave of Cooper ; we shall visit that in due time. Having
" done " the cemetery, which is one of the prettiest I ever
saw, we take the boat once more, and chat over the strange
saying of an enthusiastic tourist who was here lately, and
who was such an admirer of Cooper and his tales that he
said his greatest ambition would be to be drowned in that ,

A TRIP IN LEA THER STOCKING'S LAND. 3 1 7
lake and buried in that cemetery. We row for the Susque-
hannah River, which rises in the lake, and pursues a course
of 400 miles before it reaches the ocean. It is narrow at
the source, but we admire it very much. We take to fishing
for perch, and have no success for some time, until at length
one of the ladies, with a scream of surprise at her own
success, hauls up a finny creature about the size of a
sardine. Her triumph stops there, however ; and indeed I
believe she had more to boast of than any of us. Thus we
passed the evening, and returned brimful of the delight
which is the inevitable creation of innocent enjoyment.
August 20th. — Sunday. I celebrate Mass, and preach.
The congregation was small, but much larger than was
anticipated, for there was to be no Mass, only for my
unexpected arrival. Mass is celebrated here only every
second Sunday, as Father Devitt has to attend another
church at Richfield Springs, and a third at Cherry Valley,
both very distant from Cooperstown. The rumour was
spread abroad that Mass would be said at the usual hour
on Sunday, and it must have been spread to some purpose,
for about 250 people were present, and that was a good
-number, considering that the church would scarcely hold
more than 500. The Mass was a Missa- Cantata. The
organ was played by a young widow lady, Mrs. Tilton, and
the soprano, I was told, was a very pretty young lady
named Tanner. I gave Benediction in the evening at eight
o'clock, and preached again. About fifty Americans were
present on this occasion. Father Devitt informed me they
come every Sunday evening, when he preaches on something
doctrinal. A large congregation were present.
August 211/.- All up at five this morning, because we

3 1 8 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
have to make a long journey to the celebrated Sharon
Springs, via Cherry Valley. The latter place is fourteen
miles from Cooperstown. We start at six o'clock. The
morning is damp and misty, and the scenery is not very
distinctly visible. Our vehicle is a barouche, and our
charioteer a " coloured gemman." Our road lies over the
mountain, on the right hand of the lake, by the cemetery.
Through the foliage we catch glimpses of the water below.
The view all along the road is very charming, but its- effect
was sadly marred by the persistent mist which hung all day
over the landscape. This was particularly unfortunate at
Cherry Valley, which, even veiled as it was, and displaying
only a few glimpses of its beauty, was still delightful to
behold. Our imaginations supplied the charms which our
eyes were forbidden to reach. This region, which might
well pass for the Happy Valley, was once the scene of an
Indian raid made on the white inhabitants, who were mas
sacred without mercy, sometime in the last century. Strange
impulse of corrupt nature, which teaches it to defile with
human blood and guilt the loveliest scenes in God's
creation. Witness the ruthless massacre of Glencoe, per
petrated by so-called civilized men !
From Cherry Valley we go by train to Sharon, distant
seven miles. On this railroad are some wooden structures
running through ravines over which the train passes, and
which are constructed with a reckless disregard of human
life. Some day, ere long, a terrible accident will occur
here, and then some more solid structure will be substituted
for the present one. We reach Sharon and are at first
somewhat disappointed, for there is nothing to be seen but
some detached houses and a few shabby hotels. But we

A TRIP IN LEA THERSTO C KING'S LAND. 3 1 9
go on farther, or rather deeper ; for it is all one long descent
into a valley, buried in high wooded hills. When we have
got down to the lowest flat we find ouselves in Sharon —
one long street with enormous hotels on each side, and a
very dirty, slushy roadway. These hotels are all supplied
with piazzas, and on these piazzas lounge and sit ladies and
gentlemen chatting : the latter in the invariable white hat
and tweed clothes — the former in the degag'ee morning
costume, or the more elegant afternoon attire, but all with
the most fantastic coiffure which a diseased imagination
could invent, or which Beauty could possibly desire for the
purposes of suicide.
We stopped at the first hotel we met — the " Mansion
House." No one was visible. We walked into a room —
it was untenanted, and there was a most unpleasant sen
sation of warmth about it, as if it were artificially heated,
although the month was August. We left precipitately and
went further. We fixed on the United States Hotel, left
our things there, and ordered dinner for one o'clock.
Meanwhile we go and have a sulphur bath, previous to
which we drink sulphur-water, which has, to my mind, the
taste of a hard-boiled, cold, rotten egg. All these watering
places are about the same— the same in America as in
Europe. Sharon is a Wiesbaden, and Saratago a Homburg.
Sharon, however, is nearly " played out." Its waters are
losing their strength, or are surpassed in strength by others.
Hence, the hotel-keepers lay it on pretty heavily, being
reckless with despair.
We dine— the little morsels of chicken or beef-steak to
which we were helped would remind one of the limited
rations on board a famishing ship, or in a besieged city.

3 2 o DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
But what right have we to complain ? We fear to order
wine, and so we call for ale. " Yes, sir," says lthe waitress,
and she fetches it after a quarter of an hour. But now,
she brings on a tray about six or seven wine-glasses, which
she helps around, and then proceeds to fill them with ale
from what we call a tankard. Good gracious ! what
notion of ale have they at Sharon Springs ? Do they regard
it as some precious wine which must be doled out sparingly
and drunk in sips, like Tokay or Marcobruner? like
Assmanshauser or Liebfraumilch ? We scoff at the idea
and scout the wine-glasses from the table. The astonished
waitress at last gathers what we want. She removes the
wine-glasses and fetches bumpers. But what is the matter
now ? Is it ale, or muddy wine ? Where is the foam, and
where is the sparkle that speaks poetry to the heart, in a
glass of Allsopp or Bass ? Alas ! we stood with our lips on
the brink of liquid bliss, and as with the wretched Tantalus,
the bright stream passed, away for ever. But what is it?
we taste and put it away again — in this region of sulphur,
we wish it to the region of brimstone. It is only a coloured
fluid, utterly tasteless and almost solid with infused dust.
It is said that everyone must eat a peck of dust before he
dies. Let him drink the ale of the United States Hotel
of Sharon, and the task will be accomplished in a few
weeks. August 22nd. — A telegram comes to Father Devitt from
a place called Exter, some nine or ten miles away, saying
that he is wanted to see a sick young woman there. We
jombine business and pleasure. We start in a barouche for
Richfield Springs — we can take the sick call on our return,
and we must be home at six, as a couple are to be married

A TRIP IN LEA THERSTOCKING'S LAND. 3 2 1
in the church at that hour. Away with us then, along the
lake for the whole nine miles of its length. There is no mist
to-day, but all is bright and beautiful. What more can the
eye of man desire ? The placid waters of a vast lake — the
lofty mountains — the dense forests — the bright sunshine of
summer. Every passing cloud gives some new aspect to the
scene. Some miles down from the head of the lake, we
observe apparently only a few feet under water, a large grassy
exposure, as if a field overflowed by a flood. This, Father
Devitt tells us, is called the " Sunken Island," and there is a
legend which accounts for the phenomenon. A certain
Indian respected by his tribe, dwelt in times of old on this
island when it projected from the lake. It was an island of
peculiar beauty and fertility. He had acquired by some
means a wonderful knowledge of pharmaceutics and was
celebrated all round the country for his medical skill. No
power could resist the power of his art. Like Lucifer, he
grew haughty and defiant, he compared himself to the Deity,
and proclaimed his independence of his Creator. Then
came the retribution. One morning those who wandered by
the lake sought for the island but could discern no trace of
it. It had been swallowed up during the night, and nothing
remained to tell that it ever existed, save the green grass
waving, as it waves now, a few feet below the waters ofthe lake.
Having passed Otsego Lake we find ourselves in the open
country ; but even here the hand of Nature has constructed
other lakes, smaller than Otsego, but very pretty. We
observe three very close to each other other. At length
we drive through Richfield, a bright, cheery, and fashionable
village; very elegant, in the midst of a well-cultivated and
picturesque country. The hotels are here on a very large

3 2 2 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A ME RIC A.

scale; and with their white walls, and green blinds, and
the gay costume of the ladies lounging on the piazzas, look
very pretty and gay. I always speak of the dresses of the
ladies, not of themselves ; for those whom I have seen in
those fashionable watering places are for the most part ugly
as sin — shrivelled, parched, skinny and gaunt ; and whatever
other adjective you please that implies dryness and coldness.
When one sees creatures like these trying to look youthful,
pretty, and coquettish ; with costly silks and cosmeties, and
artificial hair, teeth, and for aught I know, artificial eyes and
limbs, it is a shocking spectacle, and makes one almost sigh
that the Darwinian theory is not true, as then those female
apes would at least have remained natural. I beg pardon of
all good-looking, simple, unaffected ladies for my severe
strictures on any members of a sex to whose refining and
civilizing influence we men owe so much.
We take a sulphur bath, first drinking the sulphur water,
which is superior to that of Sharon ; by which I mean it
tastes more strongly of rotten egg. I pay one dollar to a
man for two baths — when I come out the man hands me
back the dollar : — " Sir," said he, very respectfully, "when you
came I did not know who or what you were. I have since
learned all about you. Please take your money back. I
am proud to have a priest from the old country taking a
bath here, and you are welcome to one every day on the
same terms." He was an Irishman from Sligo. I find the
Irish the same all over America — attached to home, to
religion, and its ministers ; affectionate, warm-hearted, not
covetous for the dollar like their indigenous neighbours, but
generous and unselfish where a noble motive can inspire
them. There is a pretty Catholic church here, but very

A TRIP IN LEATHERSTOCKING'S LAND. 323
small. Father Devitt says Mass here every second Sunday ;
but the congregation mostly consists of visitors to Richfield,
visitors from New York and other great cities. Richfield
Sulphur Springs were discovered some thirty years ago, but
came into repute only within the last few years. It is
" bound " to be a big place.
We return, and Father Devitt intends taking in the sick
call in his way. Our road lies by a beautiful lake " Schuyler,"
a few miles from Richfield, six miles long by about three
broad, almost as beautiful as Otsego, but that the surround
ing hills are not so high. There is a pretty wooded island
in one portion of it, and crowds of small boats convey
pleasure-seekers over its surface. We reach a small village
called "Foot o' the Lake," and diverge into a narrow
road by which we are to go to . the sick woman's house.
Three miles brings us to the place, and those were a very
unpleasant three miles, inasmuch as our carriage wheels
often ran within a few inches of a precipice, and in other
places there were a few broken planks thrown across streams
by way of bridges, which were so badly put together that the
horses leaped them rather than trust their legs to such a
treacherous footing. Here is the house — a poor cabin — the
occupants are Irish. The sick person is a very handsome
girl of 18, married scarcely a year. Her husband, a mere
boy, loafs around, and her mother is her nurse. The hectic
flush and expressionless eyes seem to denote consumption.
Mrs. Attridge and Sarah are very attentive and consoling ;
they recommend some nourishment ; but it comes out there
is not a cent in the house. They give the poor woman some
dollars. We leave for home ; it is now half-past six o'clock, and

3 2 4 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A MERICA .
the marriage couple are probably waiting in the church at
Cooperstown. We have twelve miles to travel, and cannot
reach before nine. I cannot describe the journey back, as
it was dark. I can only say the road was very hilly, and we
were more or less nervous, not knowing it well. When we
got home we fotfnd the church crowded with people,
especially Yankees, who came to see the marriage cere
mony performed ; but alas ! there was no account of the
bridegroom. He never came, and what was stranger still, is
that it is the second time he has thus deceived a woman in
the same church. So passed this day.
August 26th. — Morning wet; proper time and state of
the atmosphere to visit Cooper's grave. He is interred
within the precincts of the Episcopal Church, which was the
one he frequented. By the way, for 2,000 inhabitants there
are six churches in Cooperstown, all of different religious'
character, all leading votaries to heaven their own way. I
hope we will all meet at the same place, though reaching it by
different roads', always provided the place be agreeable for
all eternity. The Episcopal Church is within the village, or
shall we say town ? I dare say we had better say town,
especially as it publishes two newspapers — the Otsego
Republican and the Freeman's Journal. I want to know is
there a village in America that has not its newspaper ? I
have often been proud of Skibbereen and its Eagle, and
blushed for Dunmanway which could not rise to the dignity
of a Democrat, or other exponent of public opinion. Shame
on you Bandon ! Hide thy diminished head. O Kinsale !
there are cities of ten houses in America with their news
papers, cities not one fiftieth your age, while for the centuries
that have passed over your old effete heads you have done

A TRIP IN LEATHER STOCKING'S LAND. 325
verily nought for the glory of literature, you for sworn
children of the wise Minerva.
I stroll out in the damp morning and proceed to Cooper's
grave. Attached to the church, and overshadowed by the
thick foliage of dripping trees, is the graveyard, of which a
large section is cut off and paled in for the Coopers and
their relations, the Pomeroys. Two large horizontal slabs
raised on brick some two feet over the ground indicate
the burial place of James Fenimore Cooper and his wife.
On one stone are inscribed a cross, and beneath it the
words, " James Fenimore Cooper, born Sep. 15, 1789; died
Sep. 14, 185 1." No more. I did not note the inscription
on his wife's tomb, but I did note that she survived him
two years, and that her name was De Lancey. Cooper was
brought by his father when only three years old to Coopers
town from Burlington, in New Jersey, where he was born ;
and even in his boyhood traces of Indian life were still
visible about the banks of Lake Otsego. Although the
Indians as a tribe had left the head waters of the Susque
hanna before the settlement of Cooperstown, yet numbers
of them still lingered about the old camping grounds, and
stragglers from the Delawares and the Mohawks were occa
sionally seen hovering about the shores of Lake Otsego,
with traces of war-paint upon them. True, they had buried
the hatchet with the close of the war for independence, yet
the story of their bloody deeds, and their wild and untamed
iooks, as yet hardly changed by contact with civilization,
was sufficient to arouse the vivid imagination of Cooper in
his boyish days. His lively brain was filled with half-
forgotten legends and tales of the Indians, which the pre
sence of their native woods and the occasional smoke of

326 EIARYOFA TOUR IN AMERICA.
the wigwam, served to heighten and intensify, until it gave
birth, in after years, to that wonderful series of Indian
romances which have charmed young and old of all coun
tries for nearly half a century, and rescued from oblivion
the chivalrous and the heroic in the " noble red man." The
monument of Cooper's father is here also, and somewhat
like his own in shape, but more worn by time.
An immense number of other stones, all perpendicular,
and of marble, indicate the final resting-place of Cooper's
family and friends, Pomeroy being the only name that varies
the monotony of Cooper. Several infants, children of
Cooper, lie buried here. The thought of " Sic transit "
irresistibly steals over the mind. Alas ! what is human
greatness, which ends in a little earth — in damp solitude
and everlasting silence? We pass out of the churchyard
and see the house where live, at an advanced age, two
sisters of the novelist, and close by we see the spot where
stood his dwelling-place, named the " Hall," of which, since
it was destroyed by fire, no trace now remains.
We go again on the lake and fish. What a bore the
poor fish must think us. But thunder, lightning and rain
again drive us prematurely home. We talk a good deal
about ghosts this evening, and I grow nervous. They say
the house is haunted. Whether it is or not I heard shuffling
of feet and knocking at my door to-night after twelve. The
knocking was several times repeated, and I cried, " Come
in," frequently ; but the- shy spirit did not obey. Are
ghosts timid ?
August 27th. — Sunday; awful storm, and equally awful
heat ; thermometer at 8o° all day ; never ceasing rain from
morning till night. Mass and sermon by me. After Mass

A TRIP IN LEA THERSTOCKING'S LAND.

327

a number of men interview me at the house, five from
Co. Cork, two from Waterford. They are all farmers, and
live about seven miles from Cooperstown. The great rain
and wind did not hinder them from coming to Mass on
Sunday. They have purchased their farms " out and out,"
and have got plenty of time to pay up the purchase-money.
They do not fear a landlord's frown, or an agent's threat ;
they are independent. We had a long chat about the " old
country," and I told much that interested them highly.
Another sermon at benediction in the evening. Yankees,
as usual, present in good numbers.
Angust 28th. — Last day's boating on the lake. I do not-
know what is the charm about Cooperstown. It seems as if
it were a retreat — a place isolated, shut in from the whole
world, where one could be happy for ever. What a place
for a monastery would be the bank of this lovely, lonely
lake, and how the glorious works of Nature around would
raise the heart to Nature's God.
We take tea at Miss Tanner's very pretty house,
" Butternut Cottage," so called from a large tree in the
lawn called a butternut. Her father and mother are nice
people. Miss Tanner had told me that after tea she would
take me " up a tree." But she was literal, and proceeded
to fulfil her promise. The large butternut tree to which I
have alluded stood in the lawn. It was very old and wide-
spreading. The trunk extended up about twelve feet from
the ground, and then thick branches shot out from it.
Within the branches a flooring was made with seats all
around, the backs of which extended from branch to branch.
In the centre was a table, and the elevation was reached by
a rude staircase. Here we sat, and chatted and joked over

328 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
the novelty of our situation. The sun had just set, and the
full moon shone through the foliage of the trees all around,
while in another direction we saw the calm surface of the
lake almost at our feet reflecting the full moonbeam.
The whole scene was lovely, but I was not permitted to
enjoy it long. At 8 o'clock I delivered my lecture on
" The Bible " in the church. A small gathering of people
was there, conspicuous amongst whom was the Presbyterian
clergyman who took copious notes as I went along.
I should have mentioned when speaking of the Leather-
stocking Falls that I had no loss in not seeing them. They
were a mere tiny driblet, as the weather was so dry. At
their best they are not much ; but they enjoy a fictitious
importance from the romance cast around them by the
vivid imagination, and highly-coloured descriptions of
Fenimore Cooper.

CHAPTER XII.
CONCLUSION.
August 29th. — Sarah and I leave Cooperstown at 9.25
a.m., for New York, via Albany. We leave with regret ;
for we enjoyed the place immensely — but no human
pleasure lasts long. We enjoy the Hudson exceedingly ;
reach Mrs. Attridge's at 8 o'clock and retire early.
August 2,0th. — Fearfully bitten by mosquitos last night.
See Father Crowley oft for Ireland by the " Minnesota " —
" Bon voyage I" Come down to Huntington by train, and
spend several days in the dull routine of do-nothing-ness.

CONCLUSION. 329

I find that the author of " Home, sweet Home," was
J. Howard Payne, a native of East Hampton, Long Island,
a small village towards the end of the island, within Say
Harbour. To anyone ignorant of law affairs in New York, the
following extract, which I have taken from a paper of
August 27th last, will explain all : —
" In the city of New York there are upwards of eight
thousand men who follow, at a more or less respectable
distance, the profession of the law for a livelihood. In
other countries, such as France and England, the legal
profession is looked up to, not only by the lay community,
but by the members of all the other learned professions, as
one requiring and peculiarly adapted for the display of the
highest possible degree of learning, culture, knowledge of
the world and human nature, deep thought and study, and
general ability. In England and in France the highest
prizes in the field of statesmanship have, as a rule, always
been carried off by lawyers ; and so far above divinity and
physic has the law been regarded in public estimation that
many a parent of moderate means who might have made
his son a clergyman or a physician without leaning very
heavily on his purse, has been known to exhaust his
resources and reduce himself to the very verge of ruin in
a too often unsuccessful endeavour to make his boy a
counsellor. In this country, too, the most coveted positions
in the arena of public life have been, and still are, in the
majority of cases, filled by members of the legal profession ;
but the time has long since gone by when the law was
regarded by the general public as the most desirable of all
the professions. The cause of this is very plain. Every
calling or avocation is respectable and desirable only in
proportion to its comparative exclusiveness, that is, to the
difficulty, time, labour, expense, and unborn talent involved
in the pursuit and acquisition of it A long course of study,
involving considerable expense, a liberal general education,
and a fair share of natural ability were all necessary here-

330 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. ,
tofore to the completion of a ' Limb of the Law.' But
how has it been of late years ? There is scarcely one
intelligent reader who does not know an ignorant and stupid
fool with his name over the door of a lawyer's office, whose
whole qualifications for his successful admission to the Bar
have been acquired by three weeks' reading of Blackstone,
as many years' drinking of bad whiskey, and a little in-
• fluence with the judge. A diploma of this kind is so easily
obtained that hundreds 'of jocose youths of various occu
pations, who never dreamed of entering on the practice of
law have had themselves admitted to the Bar for the fun of
the thing.
" These, however, are the more harmless class of our legal
luminaries. Another source of supply for the law offices is
the unhealthy and alarming dislike entertained by American
tradesmen and mechanics towards bringing up their children
to the trade by which they themselves have been enabled
to pass through life on an independent competence. We
are undoubtedly becoming wofully snobbish in this country
already, and nobody is so badly bitten with this same snob
bishness as the average mechanic. He is ashamed of being
only a ' working man.' He is dazzled by the shiny coat
which the briefless barrister and the poorly paid clerk have
to pinch from their stomachs to put on their backs, and he
determines that his boy, instead of being ' a poor drudge,'
as he calls it, must be qualified for a gentleman. So the
foolish man wastes his surplus earnings on young hopeful,
who is put through a cursory ' course of study,' is called to
the Bar, and in due time finds himself a full-fledged counsel
lor, attorney, and barrister-at-law, with nothing to do and
nothing to eat. It has been already stated that there are
now over 8,000 practising lawyers in this metropolis, that is
out of every hundred of our population one man is a lawyer.
Leaving out the women and children this gives us one
lawyer to every twenty grown men, so that admitting that
every man in New York goes to law with another man at
least once a year, each lawyer can have only twenty cases
per annum at an average to live upon. Now, inasmuch as
some of our eminent lawyers monopolise some hundreds of
these cases, it is plain that many of the lesser lights of the

CONCLUSION. 331

Bar are left without any case at all. Still they must live
somehow, and the question how so many lawyers do live in
New York has oftener been asked than answered. . . .
The unsavoury history, haunts and practises of the ' ' Tombs
Shyster,' that nondescript animal and social pest, are well
known to every reader of the Herald. The public are not
wholly unaware of the existence of a class of disreputable
men who prowl along the docks in- search of sailors with
grievances, and who persuade poor mercantile Jack into
empowering them to institute suits in his behalf against the
owners and masters of vessels on board of which he has been
ill-used, and afterwards compromise Jack's case for some
sum of which the plaintiff never sees a cent, though he has
already 'comedown' to his philanthropic counsel with a
retainer equal to the whole amount of the wages he has just
received. There are inumerable other ways by which needy
and conscienceless lawyers manage to ' make out the case.' "
N.B. — A "Shyster" is a lawyer such as described, who
hangs about the Tombs' Court trying to net miserable dupes
who may employ them. Some time ago there was a
legal firm on Broadway, " Ketchem and Cheetham." The
double entendre was too much for the public — the brother
hood were fairly laughed into a severance of their partner
ship. Poets are rare in America. I believe Longfellow, Bryant
and Whittier are the best ; Saxe is the Tom Hood of Ameri
can Literature. There is one named Walt Whitman, and
how he has the audacity to claim the laurels of a poet, or
how any reader is stupid enough to grant the claim, is one
mystery out of the myriads by which we are surrounded in
this world. A writer named Bret Harte has lately appeared
on the literary stage as a poet. His book is small, and the
pieces, all fugitive, are very brief. Some of them are written
in American slang, some are indelicate, there may be four out

332 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
of the entire lot fit to stand an examination. One has made
him a name somehow, it is called the " Heathen Chinee."
It is of the slang class, and illustrates the cheating propen
sities of the Chinese immigrants to this country. But in
truth there's nothing in it, yet Harte has, as it were, founded"
a new school of American poetry, and has his disciples.
Another named Hay has appeared, and his collection is
remarkable for nothing but cant, profanity, and indecency.
And, en passant, it may be remarked that Americans, to my
mind, are the most profane, blasphemous people in the
world. The lightness with which the name of God and of
religion is spoken of in this couutry is really shocking. I
have heard things said of the Deity too disgusting, too
horrible even to think of. Hay has a sketch called " Little
Breeches," said Little Breeches being a dirty, tobacco-
chewing, precociously sinful little wretch, whose father had
gone AVest. This little rascal was lost in a snow-storm, and
found in a sheep-fold. The question then was, in the fine
and frenzied language of our poet, " How did he get thar?"
And the poetic answer was " Angels," as the child could
never have walked in that storm. But this is the moral
which our poet draws from those fearfully illogical deduc
tions : — " And I think that saving a little child,
And bringing him to his own,
Is a darned sight better business
Than loafing around the throne."
I read the Sunday Herald of this day. They call them
selves the " Hercules of Religion." They contend that they
are equal to all the pulpits of America. Having no par-

CONCLUSION. 333
ticular religion themselves, they teach religion to all the
world, but their theological " platform " seems to be no
more than the abolition of the new-fangled notions of sacra
ments, dogmas, " fire and brimstone," &c, and the establish
ment of a common brotherhood by all pious persons. " They
have the gratification to know they have thus far succeeded
beyond their expectations in quickening the pulse of grace
in various communities, in infusing new and enlarged ideas
into pulpits, and in spurring the laggard professionally
religious Press all over the country to livelier work under the
banner of their chosen and halo-crowned Leader." But its
estimate of itself is in this very paper put forward in a more
extravagant, and therefore more ludicrous manner. "The
religion of the Herald, nowadays at all events, is like its
treatment of all worldly and world-wide movements, measures
and matters — as boundless as earth, and as illimitable as
God's goodness. Nothing is greater than the Heralds
comprehensive grasp, nor grander than its journalistic con-
, ception. It continues to be the foremost paper in the world."
This is one of the things that vexes me most in America —
the self-sufficiency of men proclaiming themselves and their
institutions to be the grandest in the whole world.
But we must not look for consistency in the New York
Herald. All must admit it is a paper cleverly conducted,
that is to say, it relaxes no effort in procuring news from all
the world to satisfy the curiosity of its readers ; expense is
no consideration ; — it seems to have correspondents in every
great country on the face of the earth. But it takes care to
tell you so, over and over again ; and in the New York
Herald, the Herald reporter or correspondent is spoken of
as if he were high-priest of the Delphic Oracle, a being to be

334 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA.
honoured, respected, feared by all ; he is one whose '' open
sesame " unbars the gates of palaces and admits the Great
Irresistible into the saloons of ministers, the closets of
kings, and boudoirs of empresses, who impart to him the
inmost secrets of their souls as if he were a Nepomuk of
silence, instead of being a mere professional blab. The
Herald embraces no peculiar phase of theological opinion,
and enlisting itself under the banner of no special church or
creed, professes to give a " fair show " to all. But what is
this but to say there is no need of any special form of
worship, or that God may be worshipped any way. The
most that the Herald will admit as its theological platform
is the existence of God, and the immortality of the soul, and
because it maintains these doctrines, it inflates itself into
the dimensions of a colossal censor, and is terribly vexed ii
any one dares to preach against either of them. And yet I
have read letters to the Herald trying to disprove the immor
tality of the soul, and the Herald has said never a word in
reply. The Herald regards itself as the great moral teacher of
New York, and probably of America, and constantly gives
itself credit for keeping preachers of all churches within
proper orthodox bounds by its approval or castigation of
their tenets. And there are some people who gravely assert
that a vast deal of moral good is effected amongst its readers
by- the Monday morning resumt: of the previous Sunday's
sermons. But in its reviews of these sermons there is an
air of lightness, of badinage, of scoffing calculated to weaken
an indifferent reader's respect for great dogmas. For
example, the doctrine of eternal punishment is laughed at
by the Herald, which alludes to that state as "perpetual

CONCLUSION. 335

roasting," " eternal basting," " everlasting brimstone," etc.,
etc. Other doctrines are treated with like levity. But it is
amusing to witness the airs of the Herald when speaking of
religion — it seems to regard itself as having a special mission
from heaven to teach the truth, while it is well known that
most of its religious articles are written by men who have no
religion at all. Since this Boulsby business came to light, it
has sent its reporters into all kinds of dens. The Paul Prys
ofthe Press have been interviewing the inmates of those hells,
and the edifying conversations are duly published every
morning in the Herald, so that with all this guilt and shame,
and those murders and hangings, explosions and collisions,
one grows shocked and bewildered, and begins to regard
mankind and the world as a spectacle of unmitigated horror
and woe. While the Herald gives all these horrors to the
world, it introduces them as a clown might introduce a
fellow-clown in a circus. I have already alluded to its
vulgar proclivity to alliterative headings. Surely when
dealing with a horrible story of guilt and shame the editor
might spare his brains the worry of finding out alliterations,
and his readers the bizarre effect of reading them. But the
Herald is the Herald, and so we have " Rosenzweig's
Rascality," and the " Terrible Tale," "the Trunk Tragedy,"
"the Boulsby Butchery," and, best of all, the "Hudson
River Railroad : Harrowing, Revolting Record."
One other fault in the New York Herald, and I have
done. It always presumes the guilt of a man accused of
crime— it hangs him first and tries him after. Rosenz-
weig, though not yet brought to trial, is condemned by
the Great Oracle— he is guilty, and justice will be frustrated
if he is not sacrificed. This is freedom of the Press with a

336 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
vengeance. Give me the Press which respects the majesty
of the law, and which honourably subscribes to that glorious
principle which the law inculcates — that every man is
presumed to be innocent until he is found guilty.
September 12th. — I have never left this village* since the
30th of August, save for a carriage ride. I have been very
ill all the time ; so much so that coupling the fact with the
consideration that I have been more or less unwell all
through the summer, I have resolved on sailing for Europe
on the nth of next month by the Cunard s.s. "Java."
It is needless to go into all my reasons for forming this
resolution — it is formed, and there's an end of it.
Having thus, for the last fortnight, had plenty of time for
observation on my hands, it is a pity I had not a wider
range for my speculations than an obscure village, but
such as the village is, let me describe the life of an ordinary
resident therein — that ordinary resident being ourselves.
Our house is a very pretty one — "frame," of course, like
all its neighbours, standing on the outskirts of the village,
railed off from the road on two sides, for it is at a
junction of two roads, and surrounded by flower-beds,
now in full bloom. The house is three storeys high
is painted white, with green blinds; has a "stoop" —
a piazza and gallery projecting from the first floor.
The gallery and piazza are united by pillars around
which creepers grow in profusion. The roof is invisible,
and a balustrade running all round on the top gives the
whole a square appearance. It is, as I have said, a very
pretty house, and it is pleasant to sit in a rocking chair on
the piazza and read the paper to one's self, or chat with a
* Huntington, L.I.

CONCLUSION. 337

friend, as the case may be. We rise early, breakfast about
eight, get the post and "paper" at 10.30, dine when we
please, drive out, and spend the rest as we may. It is hard
to keep up a conversation where materials are so few. We
have no intercourse with the villagers, and consequently, no
sympathy. We hear of some forthcoming clam-bake, but
not having any interest in it, can get no further than the
fact that it is about to take place. The weather is, as every
where else, the staple topic, the great resource when all
fails. It is always very hot, or rather cool, or going to rain,
or we are about to have a " storm," which means any change
for the worse.
There is a great scarcity of birds here. No matin song of
thrush or blackbird salutes the drowsy ear, and warns us to
rise. " This gloomy shore skylark never warbles over." At
evening, when the sun sets, there is scarcely any twilight.
We sometimes sit and " cool off," after the heat of the day,
on the " stoop," with, and sometimes without, company.
Sitting on the " stoop " is a favourite enjoyment amongst
Americans. Here no bird's song is heard, and yet the air
is filled with sound. I should rather say with sounds, for it
is a most extraordinary melody. In one discordant strain
are heard the croaking of the toad, the shrill cry of the
cricket, not your little " cricket on the hearth," but a loud,
tremulous piping sound, harsh as the grating of a file against
steel, the eternal whizzing of the locust, and the unceasing
croak of the " katy-did." This latter creature, an insect, so
called because the sound it makes (by its wings, I am told)
is very like that of a human being crying, "Katy did," and
sometimes " Katy didn't." While all this weird concert is
going on, the atmosphere is lit up by the star-like gleam of

338 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
fire-flies, which is -very beautiful, and in the cloudless azure
overhead the galaxy and the ursa major, unaltered in their
everlasting brightness and beauty, sometimes delude me
into the idea that I am gazing on my own native sky. Just
as the sun sets one pretty sight is seen — it is that of the
charming little humming-bird, tiny as a butterfly, and yet a
bird, flying through the garden from flower to flower, and
poking his long bill gently yet effectively into the bowl of
sweets which he knows so well how to find. He is not
afraid of you ; he comes quite close, and sometimes, but
not always, you hear the little humming sound from which
he derives his name.
......
Nothing can surpass the neatness of Americans, especially
American ladies. In dress they are not more extravagant
or fashionable than the ladies at home, but they are always
neat, their children are particularly well dressed, and it is
refreshing to see a crowd of boys and girls going to or
coming from school, so elegantly dressed, and brought up
to notions of neatness from their very infancy. And here I
may remark that the Americans appear to be extremely
fond of their children. This is evinced not only in this
matter of dress, but in the care which parents take of their
young ones. Go where you please, in steamboat or train,
and you see the children with their parents, sometimes in
arms, but oftener more mature. Parents seem is if they
could not enjoy a day's pleasure except in the society of
their children. <
And yet why do so many children turn out badly in this
country? For two reasons, as it appears to me. First,
because of this very care and love which they receive from

CONCLUSION. 339

their parents — an unwise love, which overlooks faults, and
gives the will too much license ; secondly, on account of
the system of education from which the religious element is
carefully excluded. It is manifest that where, for example,
geography is taught, and religion is not, the child knows far
more about the former science than he does of the latter.
The neatness of Americans is very remarkable in their
houses. You never see a dirty house anywhere. Be it ever
so poor it is cleanly and orderly —in the country the farmer's
house is a model of neatness. The style is pretty, the walls
are freshly painted, the flower garden blooms in fruit, while
within the carpet and hangings and pictures look bright and
cheerful. Many of our Irish people who live here have
learned those habits of neatness and conformed to them.
What a pity they do not learn them at home ! Of how many
pleasures do they deprive themselves by not adopting the
simple means which Nature has placed in their hands for
being happy ! The very cultivation of flowers, the very
science of good cooking, would tend much to enlarge the
sphere of their enjoyment. Their habits are greatly im
proved by their transfer to this country — at home they seem
doomed to eternal stagnation.
October ist. — Left Huntington at 7 a.m., accompanied by
Charles Underwood O'Connell, 20 miles to say Mass. Have
done this every second Sunday since I came here. What a
long journey, quite across Long Island, from sound to sea,
and such a strange road, so unlike what we see in Ireland.
The weather, always delightful, was peculiarly so to-day.
We drive through the village where no one is yet astir, but
a few smoke wreaths gracefully curl into the lazy air, and
seems loth to dwindle into non-existence. We creep up the

340 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA.
hill and pass by the Episcopal Church, which is made of
wood, and painted white from the base to the apex of the
spire. Then out into the country, along a good road, with
good houses at each side ; houses, as usual here, made like
the church, of wood, with the closed blinds painted green, and
with the balcony above, and the piazza below, and plenteous
flowers around. No human being is visible. Our road lies
for about five miles through a dense wood ; it is so narrow
that the wheels brush constantly against the brushwood on
either side. The eye wanders through the tall and silent
trees, and the vision is limited within a few yards by the
density of the plantation — the plantation of Nature, by the
way, for human foot may have pierced this solitude, but
human hand has never sown a seed in this ungenial soil.
And why plant trees, O man, when Nature spreads them
around in such lavish profusion ? As we pass through this
valley and find ourselves shut in from human view on every
side, we cannot help thinking what a lurking place this were
for the highwayman. But robbery here is unheard of, though
black men abound who are generally ready for this kind of
thing. When we catch glimpses of light we see the mosquitoes
in thousands swarming around us, and they never quit us the
whole way. Our handkerchiefs are constantly brushing them
away, a laborious and almost fruitless task, for they swarm
and swarm, and although thousands are killed or repelled,
fresh thousands rush to the encounter, and drink your blood,
and poison what they do not drink, in spite of you.
Out of the woods we find ourselves again in the free air,
but now our way lies through other miles upon miles of scrub
oak, which extends at each side as far as the eye can see
like a vast ocean, dense, close, solid, and through all the

CONCLUSION. 341

way, whether in wood or thicket no bird song is heard, and
few specimens of the feathered tribe display their plumage.
At length after three hours driving we arrive at the little
church, where about 200 Irish people are assembled, won
derfully neat and well dressed, with about 50 waggons — for
all are farmers and have waggons — not common carts, but
spring vehicles and a " team," and all have to come long
distances, as far as eight or ten miles. Mass is only every
second Sunday. I hear confessions, say Mass, and preach.
We start on the homeward journey and reach Huntington at
4 o'clock. October 2nd. — I leave Huntington to-day for New York.
The girls are very sad. No wonder ; they were lonely for
Father Crowley, and the presence of an old and sincere
friend reconciles them somewhat to his absence. Then they
do not know who is to take my place, and so they are lonely
and sad. But life is made up of meetings and partings.

I:

APPENDIX.
FUGITIVE PIECES
IN
Verse and Prose.

a*s>s^aatea^3.(2ssifis

TOETRY. 345

BunmanwaB XEown.

Air : " The Groves of Blarney."
All ye who hear me, I pray draw near me,
And kindly cheer me while I sing for you,
In strains melodious, sweet and sonorous,
A song harmonious and most strictly true.
My subject splendid and in it blended,
Are themes attended with most high renown
In sweet-sounding phrases and poetic mazes
I sing the praises of Dunmanway Town.
Mid mountains hoary and famed in story,
Great Carbery's glory Dunmanway lies,
With the Bandon flowing, its charms bestowing,
Which in Mount Noen does take its rise.
And there a lake is, where the duck and drake is,
And the crane can take his sweet feast of frogs,
But when night comes round it, the spirits surround it,
Since there was drownded Sir Richard Cox.
Then quite adjacent, both clane and dacent,
With high railings facin' it, does the chapel stand,
With the cross high o'er it, and a lawn before it,
You'd almost adore it, 'tis so mighty grand.
In Cork or Cloyne ye never saw any
Man like Father Doheny, he can't be found,
'Tis by him we benefits, for out of that head of his,
He raised that edifice up from the ground.

346 APPENDIX.
'Tis there in Shrovetimes, those famous love times,
The maidens oft-times they do repair,*
With cheeks like roses, not to mind their noses,
And artificial posies set in their hair.
On every Tuesday, their nate and spruce day,
In new cloth boots they assemble there,
From mountains wandering, and through vales meandering
They come philandering from far and near.
The lovely lasses, as a bouchal passes,
Through pigs and asses, they look so sly,
While Dhonal Cruaig or Paddy Buaig,
And ould Nell Twohigf make the match hardby.
A few nights after, midst mirth and laughter,
Each sooty rafter looks bright with joy,
While the lovely maiden like Eve in Eden,
With smiles is wedding her darling boy.
Black turf spontaneous, from distant ages,
Grows quite contagious unto the town,
Likewise the giush\ is growing most beauteous,
And quite profusious much farther down.
'Tis mighty plazing to see them blazing,
And the natives feasting with a happy smile,
With their sons and daughters on the kids they slaughters,
And huge beef quarters so juvenile.

* On the Tuesdays immediately preceding Shrove-Tuesday, pig fairs
are held in Dunmanway, at which, in addition to the sale of grunters, a
good deal of business is done in matrimonial speculations.
t Names of celebrated local match-makers.
X Gittsh is the Irish word for " bog:wood."

POETRY. 347

Were I Tyrtaeus or Polyphemus,
Or Prout, whose name is spread through the Globe,
In sweet effusions more soft and studious,
Dunmanway's beauties I would enrobe.
Old Mother Nature, the jealous creature,
Gave to them, each one, most high renown,
But did I inherit their poetic sperrit,
You'd get your merit, Dunmanway Town.

Gbe Cork Catbeoral JBella.
[Written on the occasion of erecting a Peal of Bells in St. Mary"s
Cathedral, Cork.]

What joyous chimes, so new and sweet,
Ring out upon the winter air ?
See people pause in crowded street,
And peasants form their thanks in prayer ;
The solemn day — the promised hour,
The smiling face of Nature tells
That now at length from yonder tower
Peal forth the Cork Cathedral Bells.

Three hundred years have come and gone
Since last we heard those sacred chimes
But patient Faith kept burning on,
Expectant of more gracious times,

34S APPENDIX.

And heaven's voice the tempest stays ;
Once more the Christian bosom swells,
And Cork pours forth responsive praise
To-day from her Cathedral Bells.
in.
Three hundred years of night and gloom,
Enlightened statesmen, was your meed
Of justice to a land whose doom
Was to preserve her cherished creed.
Vain all your arts to quench a flame
Which God's Almighty breath compels.
Peal forth a paean to His Name,
Once more, ye Cork Cathedral Bells.
IV.
Ring out— the Lee, whose source Finbar
Hath blessed, stops upon its way
To hear those melodies which are
By his successor waked to-day —
To hear those mellow numbers fall,
Weaving in air their solemn spells,
After oppression's iron thrall,
To hear the Cork Cathedral Bells.

POETRY. 349

ym 2Left alone.
["Written on the death of an intimate friend, a Fellow Student in
College.]

I'm left alone ! I'm left alone !
And sorrows now betide me,
And drearily the hours have flown
Since thou wert here beside me.
My heart is lone ! My heart is lone !
And dark'ning clouds surround it,
Because thy sunny smiles are gone,
That late were beaming round it.
ii.
I'm left alone ! I'm left alone !
Should friendship thus deceive me ?
Her sweets I scarce can call my own,
Ere those I cherish leave me.
Tho' charming was the wreath of love
She wove for us together,
'Twere better far she never wove
A wreath so soon to wither.
in.
I'm left alone ! I'm left alone !
No more are round me ringing
That merry laugh, and mellow tone,
Of music once too winning —

350 ' APPENDIX.

Yet, still each loved and well-known sound
Within my bosom lingers,
On soft and sadden'd key attuned
By mem'ry's fairy fingers. IV.
I'm left alone ! I'm left alone !
Each morn brings thee before me.
And when the last day-beam has flown,
Thy image still hangs o'er me.
I'm compassed round with happy smiles ;
For me they've sadness only :
My heart no alien joy beguiles,
For I, alas ! am lonely. v.
I'm left alone ! I'm left alone !
But shall it be for ever ?
No — there's a sphere where souls live on,
To be dissunder'd never.
There free for love, and love alone,
No sorrows shall betide me ;
And Heaven to me shall sweeter be,
When thou art there beside me.

Zbe Koung 3oea.

In childhood's days I had a feeling
Around my soul for ever stealing,
As 'twere a secret, bright revealing,
That I should never die :

POETRY. 351

Though youth and age around me faded,
By dark disease and sorrow shaded,
Yet I was ever well persuaded
Grim Death would pass me by.
But soon came Reason's light out-gleaming
My blissful childhood's starlike dreaming,
And showed me with her moon-bright beaming,
Alas ! another doom —
She seemed to say serenely, slowly : —
" Away, my child, that thought unholy,
And wake to Truth, however lowly ;
Thou'rt destined for the tomb."
And yet, amid my spirit's sighing,
An angel voice was ever crying : —
" Within is something never dying
That meets no earthly goal ; "
When thro' the clouds with light surprising,
High o'er my doubting and surmising,
Religion's sunburst proudly rising
Revealed — it was my soul.
She pointed to the skies above her,
Saying :— " Would'st thou be Religion's lover,
And I will to thy soul discover,
The regions of the Blest ;
Let earth take back what earth has given,
And when the chains of life are riven,
Come share with me and mine in Heaven,
Eternal peace and rest."

352 APPENDIX.

A feeling strangely sweet came o'er me ;
I felt, while stood that form before me,
As if celestial pinions bore me
Away beyond the sky ;
And since that hour Earth seems a prison,
Where shines no ray of real bliss in,
And where I ever calmly listen
For Fate to whisper — " Die ! "
Kinsale, May 22nd, 1856.

Wbat wouldn't J Smasb tor four Safte.
(A new song, dedicated to John M'Auliffe, Esq., New York, by the
Author.)

Oh ! Molly, my darling bewitcher,
Before I retire from the scene,
Here's your health in a full-flowing pitcher
Of genuine Irish potheen.
And here are the stick and the hand, dear,
A neck or a noddle to break,
Oh ! give me the word of command, dear,
What wouldn't I smash for your sake ?
When roaming alone o'er the prairie,
Far, far, from sweet Ballinaclash,
I envied the boys of Tipperary,
Who had skulls full and plenty to smash.
But, twirling my darling shillelagh,
That I cut in the ould Irish brake,
I thought of sweet Moll, and cried gaily,
" What wouldn't I smash for her sake ? "'

POETRY. 353

But soon, dear, I took to despairing,
And grieving we ever should part,
For I feared that the boys of ould Erin
Might steal from the exile your heart.
And, therefore, one fine summer's morning
My road o'er the waters I take,
To give all your lovers fair warning,
What wouldn't I smash for your sake ?
I've traversed the sweet groves of Blarney,
Where grows the shillelagh in style,
I've seen the proud lakes of Killarney,
Where nature so sweetly doth smile.
But dearer than ash, oak, or holly,
And sweeter than mountain or lake,
Was one glance in the bright eyes of Molly-
What wouldn't I smash for her sake ?
And now, dear, alas ! I'm returning,
To traverse the prairie once more ;
My bosom with love, dear, is burning,
Farewell, darling Molly asthore.
But one day, if I don't fall in battle,
In the land of the shamrock I'll take
The hand of sweet Molly, and rattle
" What wouldn't 1 smash for her sake ? "
Cork, September 12th, 1863.

frlgH'T-^"-

2 A

354 APPENDIX.

Ibopc ano 3nisfafl.

On a lonely rock, beside the sea,
Sat one of Earth's fair daughters,
And her eyes were gazing wistfully
Over the waste of waters ;
And by her side an ancient crown,
Stript of its pearly dower,
Bespoke a queen without a throne,
Bereft of queenly power.
Betwixt a rainbow and the sea
Uprose a charming vision,
The fairest sylph she seemed to be
E'er sent from realms elysian ;
Who, as she neared the rock-bound shore,
Ere winds or waves could keep her,
In sweetest tones e'er heard before,
Addressed the wondering weeper : —
" Daughter of Earth, why weepest thou ?
Why mourn thus sad and lonely ?
Why seek this bold rock's beetling brow,
Where sea-birds habit only ?
What is thy name, and what thy race,
And what thy doleful story ?
Is it a tale of dark disgrace
Or of extinguished glory ?

POETRY. 355

"Why gaze thus mournfully o'er the deep?
What is 't thy soul distresses ?
Mayhap thy shipwrecked children sleep
Within its dark recesses.
Though sad to-day, thy bosom ope ;
Speak frankly, child of sorrow,
For I am the consoler, Hope,
Who brings the gladsome morrow."
" Bright messenger of Heav'n, hail ! "
Replied the beauteous mourner ;
" Hast never heard of Inisfail,
Or how the Fates have shorn her ?
Of all that man's rapacious greed
E'er deemed a priceless booty,
Of Freedom, land, wealth, blood and breed,
And almost all her beauty ?
" A tyrant once came o'er the sea —
A tyiant grim and gory ;
Ah ! well-a-day, 'twas then for me
Began this doleful story.
Smitten by these two fatal charms,
The Saxon robber wooed me ;
My children rose in hostile arms,
He in their blood imbrued me.
" And prompted by the lust of gold,
The monster, cold and cruel,
Wrenched from my crown its wealth untold,
Each sparkling pearl and jewel ;

356 APPENDIX.

Some emerald gems remain alone, —
Alas ! I little need them, —
The brightest gem of all is gone,
The priceless pearl of Freedom.
" And seven long hundred years have flown
Since o'er the seas he hied him,
And even the wealth of my poor crown
Glitters at home beside him.
I grudge him- not his bauble prize ;
Poor gems, I little heed them.
Save one whose loss bedews those eyes,
That peerless pearl of Freedom.
" I've sent my children, many a year,
To win me back my treasure ;
The tyrant laughs with wanton jeer,
And gains them to his pleasure.
He gives them office, rank, and gold,
And bribes them to submission,
Till they forget, or lightly hold,
Their Mother's lost condition.
" You ask why mournfully I gaze
Over the waste of water :
Who knows there may come brighter days
For Earth's most tearful daughter.
Eastward the tyrant's stronghold lies ;
Some genius yet may lead him
Backward beneath yon azure skies,
To pay me back my Freedom."

POETRY. 357

" Fond, foolish child of Earth ! " cried Hope,
" Thou little know'st the tyrant,
Or to his mercy's narrow scope
Thou wert not thus aspirant.
Ere thou thy Freedom could'st regain
By such poor mild resources,
He'd gash asunder every vein
Through which his life-blood courses.
" What was't ungemmed thy crown ? the sword !
Aye, hear it, Earth's lone daughter ;
And by the sword must be restored
Thy wealth beyond the water.
For never yet beneath the sun,
However rant or rave men,
Was Freedom to a nation won
But by the blood of brave men.
" Mark how the still unvanquished Pole
Bleeds for his dear Sarmatia ;
Remember Tell while ages roll,
How well he freed Helvetia.
Beneath the despot's iron goad
Gaul languished long unhappy,
Till brave men's blood in torrents flowed,
And drowned the line of Capet.
" Thy children bleed in foreign lands,
For others' freedom fighting ;
Would they but lift their vengeful hands
Their mother's wrongs in righting,
Ah ! then the gloom would pass away
That shrouds the Past's dark story,

358 APPENDIX.
And in the light of Freedom's day
Rise Inisfail to glory.
" Why only weep for giant ills ?
Rise ! leave this lonely station ;
Go ! sound the clarion o'er thy hills,
And wake a slumbering nation.
Quick ! summon all thy children brave,
And onward bravely lead them ;
Thus only, on both land and wave,
Can'st thou win back thy Freedom

% Xegeno ot tbe Sbannon.

1 "

On Shannon's fair majestic tide
The moon with queenly splendour,
Looks down in her meridian pride
While vassal stars attend her,
Light zephyrs dancing o'er the wave
Scarce break its peaceful slumbers,
While Echo from each rock and cave
Sings forth her magic numbers.
But why doth yon frail shallop bear
Across the rippling water,
At such an hour, Teresa fair,
De Burgo's only daughter ?
Why flee's she thus, alone and free,
From home and kindred speeding ?
Why seeing sigh, yet sigh to see
Portumna's towers receding ?

POETRY. 359

Ah ! sure 'tis love alone can teach
A maiden thus to wander,
Yes, see ! upon the moonlit beach,
A youth awaits her yonder.
With bounding heart and eager glance
He views Clanricard's daughter,
Like some aerial being dance
Across the rippling water.
The brave O'Carroll ! — he for years
Had dared the Saxon power,
And taught the force of Irish spears
On battlefield and tower,
Till one sad day saw fall his best
And bravest kerns around him ;
Insatiate for revenge, the next
'Mid Burgo's clansmen found him.
'Twas then Teresa's soft blue eye
First wrought its magic power ;
Teresa's love now bids them fly
For aye from yonder tower.
" Now hie thee, love ! " O'Carroll cried,
" By yon fair moon I swear thee,
Far, far away from Shannon's tide
This faithful steed shall bear thee."
" For this 1 braved thy father's wrath,
He swore the kern should shun thee,
But I had plighted thee my troth,
And I had died or won thee.

360 APPENDIX.
Now hie ;" but hark ! Teresa fair — ¦
What peril now had found her ?
Oh see ! 'mid shrieks of wild despair
The waters close around her !
As to the serpent's witching eye
The victim bird is borne ;
Quick as from out the warring sky
The lightning flash is torn —
So dashed into the dark, cold wave
Teresa's frantic lover,
But while he stretched his hand to save
The tide rolled calm above her.
Though time hath since flowed fast away,
The Shannon rolls as ever,
And oft upon a moonlit bay
That hems the noble river,
The midnight wanderer has espied
A steed, while o'er the water
The tiny bark is seen to glide
That wafted Burgo's daughter.

POETRY. 36 r

a ^Beautiful ^Translation.
[We direct the attention of our readers to a translation ofthe German
poet Burger's celebrated ballad, " Lenore," at the hands of the Rev. M.
B. Buckley, of Cork, which appears in our columns to-day. Amongst
the numerous translations of this immortal chef d' ceuvre, we doubt if any
so forcibly expresses the meaning, or so artistically fashions forth the
beauty of the original, as this. In one respect, at least, it differs from
them all, and that is its strict fidelity to Burger's metre. It is refreshing,
in this hard, practical age, to find that a man, burdened as Father
Buckley is, with the cares of an arduous mission, can snatch a few
moments, now and then, to wander himself, and conduct others, through
the pleasant paths of literature. But, even in his moments of pleasure,
the priest is not forgetful of his sublime vocation, viz. : — to inculcate
lessons of virtue, for " Lenore," embodies one of the noblest morals
ever preached to Christian man.] — American Paper.
Xenore.
[From the German of Gottfried August Burger.]
Lenora sighed, one early morn,
From troublous dreams awaking : —
" Oh ! Wilhelm, wilt thou ne'er return,
Thy love so long forsaking ? "
With Frederick's army to the war
Had Wilhelm gone to Prague afar ;
And never sent, that distance,
A token of existence.
The king, and eke his royal queen,
A love for war disclaiming,
Forget at length their hateful spleen,
A welcome peace proclaiming :
And home the host, with trump and drum,
And flute, and fife, and bugle come,
Green leaves their brows adorning
That merry sunbright morning.

362 APPENDIX.
Then far and wide, in swelling tide,
Through high and by-way spreading,
Flocked young and old, to view the pride
Of heroes homeward treading.
" Now, God be blest ! " cried wife and child,
" Oh, welcome ! " shouted bride half-wild ;
But, ah ! no soldier wore a
Sweet smile for lorn Lenora.
Then low and high, with speech and eye,
She questioned of her lover ;
But not a trace of Wilhelm's face,
Or fate, could she discover.
And when at length the march was o'er,
Her raven hair she wildly tore,
And on the earth, with passion,
She sat in maniac fashion.
Her mother cried, with gesture wild,
And heart with grief o'erladen : —
" Oh, God ! have pity on my child ! "
And clasped the frantic maiden.
" Oh, mother — mother, all is o'er ;
Now life for me hath charms no more ;
Oh ! speak not of God's pity —
Alas ! what kindness did He?"
"Have mercy, God ! " the mother cried,
" Strike not, but pity, rather.
What Thou hast willed hath best betide—
My child say one Our Father."

POETRY. 363

" Oh ! mother, mother, idle dreams !
God hates thy child too well, it seems ;
Sure prayer avails one never
When hope is past for ever ! "
"From God alone, if we repent,
A Father's love we borrow,
My child, receive the Sacrament,
'Twill soothe thy pain and sorrow ! "
" Oh ! mother, mother, speak not so,
No sacrament can soothe my woe !
What sacrament can waken
The dead whom God had taken ? "
"Thy lover, child, hath sure trepanned
Thy heart with love o'erladen,
And traitorously ta'en the hand
Of some Hungarian maiden.
Then teach thy bosom to forget — ¦
He'll reap the curse of treason yet,
When soul and body sunder
His vows will wake Heav'n's thunder ! "
" Oh ! mother, mother, woeful day !
He's gone, and I'm forlorn,
Come, death, and snatch my soul away-
Oh, would I ne'er were born !
Out, out, my lamp of life and light !
Out, out, in gloom and endless night !
Oh, speak not of God's pity !
Alas ! what kindness did he?"

364 APPENDIX.

" Oh, God ! Thy vengeful scourge withhold
From her who raves before Thee,
She knows not what she says, then hold
Her guiltless, I implore Thee !
Ah, child, forget those griefs of clay !
Think, think on God, and yet one day
To thy soul will be given
Th' eternal Spouse of Heaven ! "
" Oh, mother what is heaven's bliss ?
And what to lose salvation ?
With Wilhelm is eternal peace !
Without him is — damnation !
Out, out, my lamp of life and light !
Out, out, in gloom and endless night !
Since Wilhelm's gone and vanished
All joys from earth are banished ! "
Thus rolled the tide of dark despair
Through lost Lenora's bosom,
Thus did she rage 'gainst God, and there
Blasphemingly accuse Him !
Her breast she beat, her hands she wrung,
Till night o'er earth her mantle flung,
Till in the heaven's far height
Shone out the silver starlight.
And then, without was heard the stamp
Of horse hoofs, sudden ceasing ;
And then a horseman's martial tramp
In dreadsome sound increasing.

POETRY.
The door is reached — the tinkling bell
Sounds through the darkness like a spell  <
Then through the hall there fluttered
A voice, as 'twere one uttered —
" Up, up, fond child— my lost Lenore !
Art waking, love, or sleeping ?
Would'st thou on Wilhelm gaze once more ?
Art laughing, love, or weeping?"
"Ah, Wilhelm, thou, so late at night !
Alas ! I've watched and wept outright,
Sad were my wails and bitter,
But say, how rid'st thou hither?"
" I took to horse at early night
And rode from far Bohemia.
Come let us speed our true-love flight,
Quick, quick, sweetheart, why dream you?"
" Ah ! Wilhelm, now that danger's past,
And coldly sweeps the midnight blast,
Why hurry thus and haste thee ?
Let thy Lenore embrace thee ! "
" Psha ! let the blasts of heaven bestride
The valley and the highland,
Back to Bohemian plains we ride,
This is no longer' my land.
Come ! quickly dress, and spring behind :
We needs must travel as the wind
A hundred miles away, love,
And thou'lt be mine to-day, love."

365

366 APPENDIX.
" A hundred miles, and wed to-day,"
Replies Lenora, doubtful.
" Thou sure must err, my gallant gay,
Eleven has rung out full."
"Behold, the moon shines bright," cries he,
" We and the dead ride speedily.
Ere midnight's hour I vouch, love,
Thou'lt reach thy bridal couch, love."
" Tell me, where is thy chamber small ?
Where may our bridal bed be ?"
" Far, far from here, lone, cool and all
Tranquil as where the dead be !"
" Hast room for me ? " " For thee and me,
Come don thy garb right speedily,
The wedding guests are waiting,
The chamber doors are grating."
Quick did she dress, and quickly bound
Upon the charger gallant,
Her lily hands she flung around
Her lover, leal and valiant ;
And, sweeping wild as winter's blast,
Away, away, far, far and fast,
They ride with wings of lightning,
The road with hoof-sparks bright'ning.
Before her eyes the landscape flies,
The scene shifts quickly round her ;
Meadows and green can scarce be seen,
Hollow the bridges thunder.

POETRY. 367

" Dost tremble, love ? the moon shines bright
Hurrah ! the dead can ride aright —
Dost fear the dead, Lenora? "
"Oh ! speak not, I implore you !"
But hark ! what means that doleful wail ?
Why croaks the bodeful raven ?
The death-bell tolls — the death-song rolls : —
" Let's put the dead the grave in ! "
And then a spectre-band draws near,
And bear a coffin on a bier,
Lamenting through the hedges,
Like croaking frogs in sedges ;
"With sigh and groan, at dead of night,
Inter the corse all pallid ;
Now cometh home my bonnie bride
Unto her bridal pallet —
Come, Chaunter, swell the wedding-hymn
Be Hymen's joy thy tuneful theme ;
Come, Priest, and speak the blessing,
My sweet bride needs caressing !"
The dirge1 is o'er— now halts the bier,
Obedient to the speaker—
Now distant noises reach the ear,
Quick comes a horse, and quicker,
And now is heard the tramp, tramp, tramp,
As heavily the steel doth stamp ;
Rider and steed, like lightning,
The road with hoof-sparks bright'ning.

368 APPENDIX.
Now right and left, and left and right,
Fly mountains, lakes, and valleys,
Past whirl in most confused flight
Streets, lanes, and squares and alleys ;
" Dost tremble, love ? the moon shines bright,
Hurrah, the dead can ride aright—
Dost fear the dead, Lenora?"
" Oh ! speak not, I implore you ! "
Now, lo ! upon a scaffold high
With supple feet and plastic,
Half visible in moonshine fly
A band of elves fantastic,
" Ha ! merry elves, come hither, pray,
Know you not 'tis our bridal day ?
With your fantastic treading
You'll grace our gladsome wedding."
Behind the pair the elfins rush,
As fear or fancy brought them,
Whirring as wind whirrs through the bush
When leaves are sere in autumn,
While sweeping wildly to the blast ;
Away, away, fly far and fast,
Rider and steed, like lightning,
The road with hoof- sparks bright'ning.
The moon doth like a ghost appear,
Through seas of azure driven,
While higher up the stars career
Across the arch of heaven.

POETRY. 369

" Dost tremble, love ? the moon shines bright-
Hurrah ! the dead can ride aright :
Dost fear the dead, Lenora? "
" Oh ! speak not, I implore you ! "
" Hark, hark ! methinks the cock doth crow —
The sands of night are wasted ;
Soon will the breath of morning blow —
We spirits dare not taste it !
Alight ! 'tis o'er ! our weary ride —
The bridal-chamber opens wide.
Ha ! ha ! the dead ride fast, love,
We've reached the end at last, love."
Before the iron gate now stands
The steed, with bridle hanging ;
A gentle touch from viewless hands
Opes wide the portals clanging ;
Asunder quick the portals fly.
Now o'er dark graves the travellers hie,
While ghastly in the moonshine
The stones o'er many a tomb shine.
Hark ! trembling, hark S a wonder dread,
To start each slumbering feeling \
The rider's garb falls shred by shred,
A spectral form revealing !
His head, a hairless, skinless skull,
Grim, ghastly, gaunt, and horrible,
An hour-glass and a sickle
Equip the goblin fickle. 2 B

370 APPENDIX.

High pranced and snorted wild the steed,
While blue flames skimmered o'er him ;
Then lo ! the ground yawned wide beneath,
And from the vision bore him.
A howling cry, a serpent's hiss
From moonlit sky and dark abyss !
Lenora raved with horror,
For death, grim death, cried for her.
Then danced beneath the pale cold moon
The elfin-band till morning,
All singing, to a sad quaint tune,
Those solemn words of warning : —
" Be patient, though thy heart should break ;
Bear all for the Great Chastener's sake-
Peace to your clay, Lenora —
May God be mild before you ! "

fflaj-
[Written in 1864, when Flax culture wai revived in the South of
Ireland, and a large Factory erected in Cork under the auspices of the
late Mr. Maguire.] Sound a paean to the flax,
Seeds of flax !
What a harvest doth it promise of fine linen to our backs !
Let us scatter, scatter, scatter,
From Rathlin to Cape Clear,
If we'd richer be and fatter,
Come, the flax-seed let us scatter
In the spring-time of the year :

POETRY. 371'

Sow in time, time, time,
In the merry vernal prime,
Come drain the swelling sacks and exhaust the heavy
packs Of the flax, flax, flax flax,
Flax, flax, flax !
Then hurrah for the scattering of the flax !
See the beauty of the flax !
Growing flax !
In the smiling days of summer-time how pretty doth it
wax ! In the corners and the nooks,
By the bogs and by the brooks ;
Greenest of the green,
Gently it is seen
Waving to and fro :
How it smiles
And beguiles
The leisure-time of labour,
As you saunter with your neighbour
Down the furzy old boreen,
While the setting sun is seen
Pursuing golden tracks just behind the mountains' backs.
Oh ! there's not a crop we grow
Fit to sow,
Pull, or mow,
But the merry smiling flax,
Yes, the flax, flax, flax, flax,
Flax, flax, flax !
Then hurrah ! boys, hurrah ! for the flax !

372 APPENDIX.

Hear the music of the flax,
Mills of flax !
Where the clangour of machinery of peace and plenty
smacks. Hear the merry voices ringing
Of the men and boys and women ;
See the merry eager clutching
And the dexterous unsheaving ;
Hear the melody of scutching,
And the spinning and the weaving
Of the flax !
Hear the sounding of the pounding
And the scientific whacks,
As the O's and Mac's,
The Jennies and the Jacks,
Never dreaming to relax,
Work the flax !
Oh ! merry sight to see, in those halls of industry,
The son of Erin's isle,
With the jocund genial smile
And the merry repartee,
Oblivious of the tax
Which their pocket never lacks,
Working ever at the flax
With the energy of blacks,
Singing flax, flax, flax, flax,
Flax, flax, flax !
Then hurrah ! boys, hurrah ! for the flax !

Oh ! the future of the flax,
Glorious flax !

POETRY.  373

When old Erin from her ashes, 'spite of smashes and draw
backs, Like the phoenix shall arise
After seven hundred years,
From her melancholy eyes
Brushing off the silent tears,
And in holiday apparel,
Robed in linen of her own —
A Te Deum she shall carol
In the place of ullagone !
When that happy time befalls,
Should some minstrel take the lyre,
From the walls
Of Tara's ancient halls,
And the fire
Of his poesy inspire
His merry roundelay,
Let us pray,
As his memory recalls
All the great ones of the past,
Whohave livedanddied for Erin, struggling onward to the last,
One name, at least, may not
By the minstrel be forgot ;
But as his visions glow
In the light of heaven's fire,
May his noblest anthem flow
To the memory of— Maguire !
For we were, indeed, at zero, until he arose the hero of the
flax, flax, flax, flax, Flax, flax, flax,
Until he arose the hero of the flax !

374 APPENDIX.

Come scatter, then, the flax,
Saviour Flax !
Annuller of evictions, ofthe crow-bar and the axe !
In the bog and in the mireland —
Through the length and breadth of Ireland ;
Let us scatter, scatter, scatter,
On the lower land and higher land,
The seedlings of the flax.
Sow in time, time, time,
In the merry vernal prime ;
Come drain the swelling sacks, and exhaust the heavy
packs, of the flax, flax, flax, flax,
Flax, flax, flax,
Then hurrah for the scattering of the flax !
Flaxman.
Loam Lodge, 8tA Feb., 1864.

POETR Y.

Bit 3risb acrostic for '6S.

375

A is an Army 'tis ours to repel,
B is a Bigotry breathing of hell,
O is the Church of the Saxon and Stranger,
D is the Dizzy Dog not of the manger,
S is Education demanded, denied,
P are the Famines that flow as the tide,
G is the Gibbet well superintended,
H is the Habeas Corpus suspended,
I are Informers, by Government backed,
J is a prejudiced Jury well packed,
K are the Keoghs that dispense us the Law.
L is the Landlord, a needy Bashaw,
M are the Martyrs for whom Erin grieves,
N is the Nothing that Ireland receives,
O is the Orangemen sighing for slaughter,
P is a Parliament — over the water,
Q is the Queen of Balmoral and Wight,
R is the Rope, the great giver of Right,
S is the Scorpion that sits at the helm,
T is the Tory-crew ruling the realm,
U is a Union by infamy planned,
V is Venality stalking the land,
W are the Whigs, " bloody, brutal and base,"
X is an Excellent change in the case,
Y is Young Ireland in Fame's highest niche,
Z's the New Zealander on London Bridge !

376

APPENDIX.

Woe Xast IRoee of Summer.

'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone,
AU her lovely companions
Are faded and gone !
No flow'r of her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh.
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,
To pine on the stem,
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them ;
Thus kindly I scatter
Thy leaves on the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.
So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
And from love's shining circle
The gems drop away !
When true hearts lie withered,
And fond ones are flown,
Oh ! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone ?

Ecce ultima rosa
Florescit aestatis,
Nee rubet ex omnibus
Una cognatis !
In hortu, heu ! sola
Suspirans marcescit,
Nam flos qui confleret,
Jam diu discessit.
Non sinam te miseram,
Sic deperire,
Sed volo cum sociis
Te condormire ;
Sic clemens do folia
Supra rosetum,
Perierunt sodales
Et gusta tu loetum.
Sic peream, caris
Cum fuerim orbatus
Nee orbis Amoris,
Fulgebit gemmatus !
In mundo horrendo,
Quis ultro maneret
Si simul amatis
Carisque egeret.

POETRY.

377

3Fill tbe JBumper afalr.

Fill the bumper fair
Ev'ry drop we sprinkle
O'er the brow of care
Smooths away a wrinkle,
Wit's electric flame
Ne'er so swiftly passes,
As when thro' the flame
It shoots from brimming glasses.
Fill the bumper fair,
Ev'ry drop we sprinkle
O'er the brow of care
Smooths away a wrinkle.
Sages can, they say,
Grasp the lightning's pinions,
And bring down its ray
From the starr'd dominions.
So we sages sit,
And 'mid bumpers bright'ning,
From the heaven of wit
Draw down all its lightning.
Would'st thou know what first
Made our souls inherit
This ennobling thirst
For wine's celestial spirit ?
It chanced upon one day,
When, as bards inform us,
Prometheus stole away
The loving fire that warms us.

Pocula replete,
Frons enim rugosa,
Curae, potu lseti,
Vini fit formosa.
Calicis ex ore,
Alte si potares,
Alus lepore,
Facile praestares.
Pocula replete,
Frons enim rogosa,
Curse, potu Iseti,
Vini fit formosa.
Caelo de profundo,
Sapientes vere,
Jovis summi mundo,
Ignem detulere,
Sapientiores, Nos, ut debacchamur,
Ccelo de leporis,
Fulgura furamur
Velles scire quare,
Pellimur confestim,
Vini sic amare,
Spiritum celestem ?
Vates Promctheum,
Scimus cecinisse
Ignem sethereum,
Olim rapuisse.

378

APPENDIX.

The careless youth, when up
To glory's fount aspiring,
Took nor urn nor cup
To hide the pilfered fire in.
But oh ! his joy, when round
The halls of heaven spying,
Among the stars he found
A bowl of Bacchus lying.
Some drops were in that bowl,
Remains of last night's pleasure,
With which the sparks of soul
Mix'd their burning treasure.
Hence the goblet's show'r
Hath such spells to win us,
Hence its mighty power
O'er the flame within us.
Fill the bumper fair,
Ev'ry drop we sprinkle
O'er the brow of care
Smooths away a wrinkle.

Fertur autem ilium,
Nulla cum adstaret,
Urna qujl scintillam,
Rutilam celaret.
Jovis inter aulas,
Circum se spexisse,
Ibique Bacchi mollis,
Crateram reperisse.
Fcecibus cum meri,
Funditur scintilla,
Quceque cum craterae,
Coruscaret stilla.
Virtus inde vino,
Hincque dum vivamus,
Igne hoc divino
Semper ardeamus.
Pocula replete,
Frons enim rugosa,
Curae potu laeti,
Vini fit formosa.

FOETR Y.

379

Zbc ©15 3rieb 5fg.

arfpu&fuin ibibernlcum.

Oh ! my blessing be on you old Erin,
My own land of frolic and fun ;
For all sorts of mirth and "divarsion"
Your like isn't Under the sun.
Bohemia may talk of its polka,
And Spain of its waltzes grow big —
Och ! sure they are nothing but limping,
Compared with our own Irish Jig.
Chorus —

Hibernia, sis benedicta !
Jucunda enim insula es :
Gratiori non occurrit viator
Quocunque dirigitur pes.
Bohemia de Polka se jactet-
Hispania jactet et se —
Hibemica solum chorea
Delectat tripudium, me.
Chorus —

Then a fig for your new-fashioned waltzes, Hinc Gallicae, ergo, choreas !
Imported from Spain and from France, Hispanae, valete et vos !
And a fig for the thing called the polka, Valete, Bohemia, vestrae !
Our own Irish Jig is the dance. Oblectat, tripudium nos.

I heard how this jig came in fashion,
And believe that the story is true,
By Adam and Eve 'twas invented,
The reason was — partners were few.
Although they could both dance the polka,
Eve thought it was not over chaste,
She preferred our jig to be dancing,
And, 'faith, I approve of her taste.
The light hearted daughters of Erin,
Like the wild mountain deer that can
bound,
Their feet never touch the green island,
But music is struck from the ground.

Tripudii fama inceptum
Adami ingenio dat,
Hevaeque, nam in paradiso
Consortium non fuit sat —
Potuerunt et Polka saltare,
Sed Heva non gaudens in re
Tripudium magis dilexit
Et bene dilexit, nonne ?
Puelbe venustae nostrates
Ceu cervae resiliunt, et
Non possunt attingere terram
Quin musicae sonitum det.

38o

APPENDIX.

And oft in their hills and green valleys, Et saepe in colli seu valle
The old jig they dance with such grace, Saltantibus, sicut est mos,
That even the daisies they tread on, Prae gaudio sese pandentes
Look up with delight in their face. Subrident et gramen et flos.
This old Irish jig, too, was danced Tripudio quondam nostrorum
By the kings and the great men of yore, Regum fuit deditum cor,
King O'Toole himself could well foot it O'Toolius Rex id amabat,
To a tune they called " Rory O'Moore
And oft in the great halls of Tara,
Our famous king Brian Boru,
He danced an old jig with his nobles,
And played his old harp to it, too.

' Sonantibus Rory O'Moore
Temorensibus quoque in aulis
Saltabat Brianus Boru,
Nobilium stante coronst
Suae citharae sonitu.

And sure when Herodias' daughter
Was dancing in King Herod's sight,
His heart, that for years had been frozen,
Was thawed with pure love and delight.
And oft and a hundred times over
I heard Father Flanagan tell
'Twas our own Irish jig that she footed
That pleased the old villain so well.

Herodem vix unquam placatum
Movere Herodias scit ;
Tyranni cor diu gelatum
Saltante pupil liquefit.
At nisi tripudium saltasset —
Audivi a parocho rem —
Cor regis scelesti movendi
Omnino abjiceret spem.

FACETIAE.

A BOWL OF BISHOP.
It is no use striving to cope with a bishop, for he is sure to
carry everything by mitre-right. He is the most imperious
of men, because he gives orders the moment he finds anyone
fit to receive them. Bishops, in old times, were given to
powdering, now they are content to make canons ; though
he may decry the use of wine, we are credibly informed that
he has many reserved cases of his own. A bishop, though
having very bad sight, may have a very good see. Though
he could not become a bishop without " Nolo," yet he
holds no low position in the Church ; dwelling in a. palace,
and oftentimes sitting on a throne, he frequently gives away
a crown, and yet, at other times, could not raise a sovereign.
Though averse to prize-fighting, he makes his living by the
Ring. However he may denounce the vocation of Calcraft,
no man is a better hand at suspension than he. Like the
cholera, he makes a periodical visitation, but while the
cholera weakens all the firm, he confirms not only all the
weak, but all the year round. He may not translate a
foreign language, but he may himself be translated to foreign
parts. He may not lend you money, but he'll tell you when

382 APPENDIX.
and how it is Lent. Not over indulgent to himself, he grants
indulgence, nay even license to others, especially to those who
wish to lead a. fast life. He may not have toast for break
fast, but he often gets a surfeit of toasting after dinner. He
is ever hospitable, particularly to young clergymen ; indeed
he no sooner gives a priest an entree into his diocese, than
he helps him to a remove. He may be a handsome man, but
he must be ordinary. Sometimes, though quiet and sub
dued in his disposition, he is often to the end of his life an
^r^-bishop. Performing rights for others, he is content
with dues for himself. The bishop is the head of his own
chapter, which reminds us that he is the tale of this.

DEATH OF A DISTINGUISHED GRINDER.
This morning I lost by death one of my very oldest and
most cherished friends. I made his acquaintance some thirty
golden years ago, and from that moment to the hour of his
demise we lived and loved together. I cannot boast of
having properly appreciated or requited his friendship, for
the manifestation of that tender feeling was altogether one
sided — he lived and laboured for me, while I did very little
to promote his comfort or convenience. I could only
admire and commend his devotion on every occasion that
offered ; in truth, it may be said, he was ever in my mouth.
But he did not stand in need of me, being perfectly inde
pendent in his own resources, possessing a considerable
interest in his native soil, and having, moreover, a large
and profitable connection with the gum trade. He is a

FACETIAE. 383
person of a very modest and retiring disposition, living in a
quiet row, where he was known only to his immediate
neighbours. The natural sweetness of his disposition was
never for a moment marred, though creatures of extreme
acidity of temperament frequently passed his way. When I
was preparing for college he was invaluable to me as a
grinder, for he was exceedingly well up in that profession,
and imparted his services with right good will, as if he had
a personal interest in the matter. And yet, with all his
natural talents, that modesty of character to which I have
alluded would never permit him to be drawn out, even in
moments of his greatest excitement, which were not rare,
as he was very nervous by nature. I am indebted to him
for many wise saws, but his pet one was, " My boy, I would
fain keep a guard upon your tongue." Towards his latter
end he contributed largely by his energy and zeal to pro
mote the interests of a local corporation, which grew and
expanded beneath his fostering care, and which now with
unfeigned sorrow deplores his loss. He had a. penchant foi
neatness, and even to the last morning of his life brushed
up with all the air of a gallant. A sliort time before his
departure he was to all appearance in his usual good health,
having breakfasted heartily on spiced beef and the etceteras.
Resting after the meal in his easy chair, he suddenly dropped
off and expired. A coroner's inquest was held, and the
verdict had well nigh been " accidental death," until it was
ascertained that the deceased had been for some time suf
fering from a decay of the constitution, which, acting on a
nervous temperament, caused him to indulge during his
latter days in loose habits of living. He leaves no issue,
having disappeared root and branch. It may be said in

384 APPENDIX.
truth that he leaves a void which cannot be easily filled up.
His neighbours regret his demise exceedingly, for he was
to them a constant prop and support, and they look forward
with considerable apprehension to their own not remote
decease, which will no doubt be greatly accelerated by his
lamentable removal. He was interred with all the honours,
and sleeps in the hopes of a glorious resurrection, his
occupation being gone, and never to be resumed, even
in a future world ; for who on earth could imagine what
would be the functions in heaven of such a thing as —
A Jaw-Tooth?

Sealy, Bbyebs & Walkbo, Printers, 94, 96 and 96 Middle Abbey Street, Dublin.

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