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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. 

y 

BV    .  ..'''■* 

Rev.  M.   B.   BUCKLEY, 

OF    CORK,   IRELAND. 

%  Special  ifHissionarg  in  i^ortfj  america  anU  (S^anala  xxi.  1870  antJ  1871. 


EDITED  BY  HIS  SISTER  KATE  BUCKLEY. 


Dedicated  to  the  Irish  People  at  Home  and  Abroad. 

PUBLISHED     FOR     THE     EUITRESS     IN      GREAT      BRITAIN,     IRELAND, 
AMERICA    AND    CANADA. 


DUBLIN: 
SEALY,      BRYERS     &     WALKER, 

94,    95    &    96    MIDDLE    ABBEY    STREET. 


(ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED.) 


^rinteti  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  cut  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  Fathei 
Buckley's  experiences  of  a  Tour  on  the  American  Continent. 

KATE  BUCKLEY. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER.  PACB. 

I.  THE  VOYAGE  FROM  IRELAND,    -  .  .  i 

II.  ASHORE,    -      -      -       -  -  -  14 

III.  NIAGARA,   -       -      -      -  -  -  28 

IV.  THE  BRITISH   FLAG  AGAIN,                -  -  -  37 
V.  QUEBEC  AND  THE  SAGUENAY,          -  -  -  66 

VI.  THE  LAND  OF  THE   BLUE  NOSES,  -  -  -  87 

VIL   ST.  JOHN.      GOOD-BYE  TO  CANADA,  -  -  I04 

VIIL   THE   "ATHENS   OF  AMERICA,"  AND  SOME  OF  THE 

ATHENIANS,            -              -              -  -  "  I36 

IX.    THE  EMPIRE  CITY,        -              -               -  -  -  2IO 

X.    "a  PRIESTLY  FENIAN,"            -              -  -  -  229 

XL    NEW  YORK  IN  SUMMER,           ...  -  252 

XII.    A  TRIP  IN  LEATHERSTOCKING'S  LAND,  -  -  309 

XI 11.    CONCLUSION,     -              -              -              -  -  -  328 


APPENDIX. 


FUGITIVE  PIECES  IN  VERSE  AND  PROSE,  -  -      345 


FACETIAE. 


381 


Plftl^Y 


OF  A 


Tour   in    North   America. 


— ^ — 

CHAPTER  t. 

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  within  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  suiprise  of  the  passengers  who  had  come  from 
Liverpool,  the  "  Jackall "  discharged  its  whole  living  freight 
on  board.      There  was  frequent  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 

B 


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. 


?, 


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 

Mo7iday,  May  2^rd. — 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, III,  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/^th. — This  day  is  fine,  and  the  wind 
falls,  to  our  stem ;  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   Ollendorffs   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 
j?ays.    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," — bom  in  Paris  of  a  Polish  father.     He 
can  translate  English  very  well,  but  can  scarcely  speak  a 
word  ;  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  i^th. — 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  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  Usten.  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 
to-day  in  the  offing,  and  we  are  pleased  with  the  additional 
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  stem,  and  we  return  it 
in  the  same  way.  "  A  rather  stem  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  DIARY  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  lor  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  2'jth. — 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  of 
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.  g 

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  2%th. — 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  2^th. — Tremendous  fog,  the  steam-whistle 
sounding  all  the  time,  a  very  unpleasant  sound,  for  it  warns 
of  the  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  VO  YA  GE  FROM  IRELAND.  1 1 

-  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 
coUision."  "  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." 

Prayer's  are  announced  for  lo^  in  the  saloon.  The  doctor 
(of  the  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  30///. — 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  \st. — 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  £,(>  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  P'enian  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  yat.  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  1st. — All  tip  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  or  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. 


U         DIARY  OF  A  TOUR  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  tc 
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. 


15 


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  Irick-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  ot 
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  yrd. — We  commence  business  to^ay,  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  tlirough  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  nmning  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 


1 8  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 
witli  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  heartlirug  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  seemed 
nnxious  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  ^v^th  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  t  o  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 


20  DIAR  Y  OF  A  TOUR  IN  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  surgeork 
*n  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  *'  K?."  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.  21 

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  biting  us.  He  then  asked  if  we  would  wish  to 
hear  him  sing.  AVe  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  Caesar  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  of  the  island,  excepting  the  lunatics,  were  Irish. 


2  2  DfAR  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  two  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  tlirough  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  Nicliolas  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  e/t 
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  tlie  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  Coeur,  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  rf  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  y  OF  A  TO  UR  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  slie  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  ic)th. —  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  Killamey  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. 

Wc  drive  to  Flatbush.  Here  I  call  on  Father  Paul  Aheam,  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  I  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,  Jinic  20th. — At  6  o'clock  this  evening  we  prepare 
to  leave  in  a  carriage  for  Delmonico'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 
Toom,  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  singk  him  out  from  the  rest  He  was 
a  tall,  thin,  straight  old  gentleman,  with  grey  hair  and  white 


26  DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  AMERICA. 

whiskers,  and  beard  cut  very  short — gentlemanly  in  appear- 
ance, Avith  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  23^/. — We  drive  to  Wall-street  by  ap- 
pointment to  meet  Mr.  Eugene  O'SuUivan.  He  has  beea 
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  fasjiionable  watering-place,  some  thirty 
miles  from  the  city.  We  took,  with  him,  the  steamer  fronn 
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- 
ot  people  were  on  board;  but  there  was  no  crushing — there 
was  room  for  all. 

Mr.  O'SuUivan  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'SuUivan,  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 


28  DIAR  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-morrow. 


CH.\PTER  in. 

NIAGARA. 

Saturday,  June  25///. — It  was  our  intention  to  go  up  the 
Hudson  to  Albany,  by  steamer,  a  distance  of  145  miles. 
The  scenery  of  this  river  is  praised  beyond  measure,  and 
we  were  naturally  curious  to  see  it.  ^Ve  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. 


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 — sa 
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  adrawingroom  car !"  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  V  OF  A  TO  tJR  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  ray  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  PoHce 


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,  Jicne  21th. — 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  Palm5n-a. 

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 — like 
what  ? — like  the  snoring  of  an  Icthyosaurus  ! ! 

Tuesday,  June  2  8//^— Had  expected  to  find  on  the  hotel  book 


3  2  DIAR  YOFA  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  oft 
the  dust.  They  did  not  exactly  expect  to  see  us  here;  they  had 
given  us  their  program  me,  and  we  had  said  it  was  just  possible 
we  might  meet  them  here.  I  passed  away  the  time  in  the 
billiard  room,  playing  v/ith  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  2<)th. — 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.  A  very,  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 

o 


34         DIARY  OF  A  TOUR  IN  AMERICA. 

1 — ■• — 

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  da)',  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  of  the  Deity,  defiant  of  the  arts  of  man,  playing  for 
ever  the  same  majestic  tune — falling  for  centuries  unseen  by 
Imman  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  I  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 


Z6         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  otherbankof  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 
jirevious  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 
a.ge ;  but  it  is  too  late,  and  we  avoid  her  for  the  rest  of 
the  eveninc:. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  BRITISH  FLAG  AGAIN'. 

Thursday,  June  30//^. — 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 
NrtV  York  Herald,  and  the  heat  of  the  great  city  is  described 
in  curious  headings.  For  example — "  Melting  Weather  in 
New  York — Mercurial  Antics  among  the  Nineties." 

Apropos  of  the  Nav  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 


40         DIARY  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 
new  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, 


TIIE  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  \st. — 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  SL  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 
ior  this  purpose — to  prevent  a  catastrophe.  We  reacli  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. 


TEE  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  sui> 
posed  the  spectacle  is  lovely  ;  the  smooth  broad  surface  of  the 
water,  the  balmy  air,  the  wooded  islands,  the  pretty  villages  on 


4 1         DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  A  ME  RICA, 

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  ihe  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  countrj', 
a  few  miles  outside  the  city.  This  is  a  very  fine  convent, 
where,  as  at  Manhattan vi He,  young  ladies  are  educated  as 


46         DJAR  Y  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  Witmss,  to  distinguish  it,  I  daresay,  from  a  very 

•Montreal  has  now  over  142,000  inhabitants,  with  about  28,000 
Irish  Catholics.  The  7'rue  IVitness  still  exists,  and  besides  various 
French  Papers,  is  still  the  only  representative  of  Catholic  journalisu» 
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  oflfer.  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  bretliren  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  4|-,  breakfast  ad  libitum,  dine  at  ii^-  a.m.,  and  sup 
at  seven.  Night  prayer  at  8 J,  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  hi&  church, 
and  to  make  a  collection  immediately  after. 

Accordingly  on  Sunday,  itt  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- 
tions through  the  day,  and  for  the  whole  week  after.  I  preached 

E 


so         DIARY  OF  A  TOUR  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  ever}'- 
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  deal  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  BRITISH  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  never 
to  see  my  native  land  again."     This  dreaming  of  Ireland  I 
found  to  be  quite  common ;  many  people  would  give  all 
they  have  in  the  world  to  get  back  again  and  live  in  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  born 
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  sympatliies  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 
ears  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  havd 
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  account ; 
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  tlieir  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  i8. years-  ago,  and  are  now  indepen- 
dent. They  have  each  a  large  grocery  store ;  were  un- 
married, and  had  two  sisters,  eachsister  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  tliat  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  were  most  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  FIAG  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 
12th  August,  weag?-eed  to  meet  him  there. 

I  may  conclude  the  history  of  our  collection  at  Montreal 
by  stating  that,  between  all  we  xecerved  in  the  churches, 
and  from  private  individuals,  we  realized  1000  dollars  !  which 
we  converted  into  adraft,  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,  "  tut  in 
reality  that  I  may  deliver  a  lecture  in  St.  Patrick's  Hall, 
Avhere  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  of  the  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         DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  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,  I  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 
\he  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 


56         DIARY  OF  A  TOUR  IN  AMERICA, 

priests  and  churches  like  civiUzed  men.  They  dress  Uke  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.thehead-quarters  of  the  "  Indian  Lacrosse 
Club." 

Now,  there  is,  as  we  have  seen,  a  strong  Irish  element  in 
Montreal,  and  some  active  young  Hibernians — a  few  bom  in 
the  old  country,  but  the  majority  merely  of  Irish  parentage — 
associated  themselves  together  with  a  view  of  contending  for 
the  cloampionship  of  the  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.  57 

difficulty.  There  are  in  Montreal  a  great  number  of  orphans 
under  the  care  of  the  priests  of  SL  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  lo  sit,  and  £at  and  view  the  game  of 
lacrosse  played  by  the  "  Sliamrocks  "  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  grekt  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''appui  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 


6o         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  stem 
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    Iri«h  green,    of  course,    and 
now  the  melee  commences.    The  athletes  appear  upon  the 
field,  clad  in  "tights,"  save  one  little  Indiati  who  insisted 
on  the  style    known  as    sans  culoUe.     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' 
catghes  the  ball  in  his  lacrosse  and  runs  with  it,  like  a  deer, 
towards  the  enemies'  poles,  but  he  is  chased  by  an  Indian,  who 
strives  with  hislacrossetodislodgetheball,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.  6t 

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  tlie  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  wa&^  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,  w^hen  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  the  voyage  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.  (^z 

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,  tlie 
victims  had  not  even  the  dignity  of  a  sack,  but  such  as 
they  were,  in  their  tattered   clothes,   reeking  with  fever 


64         DJAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  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  liis  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  sa  miserably  perished. 
There  was  the  desoiate  spot,  enplosed  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  en  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  stem  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  IJ^  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;!^2oo,  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  SAGUEN.W. 

At  seven  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  Thursday,  July  the 
2ist,  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  350 
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         DIARY  OF  A  TOUR  IN  AMERICA. 

Quebec.  At  the  other  side  of  the  river  were  villages  and 
towns,  one  named  "  New  Liverpool,"  the  other,  I  thipk, 
"  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  an  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  hou.ses  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- 
gauvran  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  EngUsh,  and 
General  Montcalm,  on  the  part  of  the  French,  on  v/hich 
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  VENA  Y.  71 

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  of  the  olden  time,"  one  of  the  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  v;\t\i  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  ion  weight.       Mr.  Delany  pointed  to  him  with  peculiai 
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 


Q  UEBE  C  AND  THE  SA  G  UENA  Y.  7  3 

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  oflfered  to 
lend  him  money  out  of  the  Bank  if  he  could  get  any  kind  of 
security.  Tom  succeeded,  and  when  Mr.  Gunn  lent  him;j^2o 
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,ooo ;  but  Tom  did  not  want  it,  for  he  was 
now  an  independent,  rich,  and  happy  man.      Here,   tlien, 


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  only  just  arrived  to  make  a 
tour  of  pleasure  in  America,  We  spent  a  most  agreeable 
evening.  There  was  also  present  the  Rev.  M.  Fouraiier, 
already  alluded  to,  and  a  young  gentleman  named  Wade, 
just  arrived  from  England.    We  sat  on  the  piazza  and  chatted 


Q  UEBEC  AND  THE  SA  G  UENA  Y.  7  5 

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  t?ke  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  unappreciative  of  the  com- 
forts of  life.     She  insisted  that  wq  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  TO  UR  IN  A  M ERICA. 

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  of  the  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. 
Bom  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  tlie  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- 
trar}',  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         DTARY  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. 


f 


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  of  the  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  tiie 
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 


8o         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  da)%  then  in  hundreds.    Here 
perished  with  them  many  good  priests  and  nuns.     Here 
arose,  with  appalling  suddenness,  a  huge  Necropohs — 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 


Q  UEBEC  AND  THE  SA  G  UENA  Y.  « i 

one  witness  of  the  tragic  scene.  When  the  fatal  work  was 
accompHshed  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 
great  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 
ghmpse  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 


Q  UEBE  C  AND  THE  SA  G  UENA  K  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  accord ean,  mounted  like  a  harmonium,  which  he 
played  with  one  hand,  accompanying  himself  at  the  piano 
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 
lie  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  of  the  "beau- 
tiful citie "  of  Cork,  hears  by  some  means  that  I  am  a 
Corkman,  and  his  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  never 
pass  without  giving  me  a  confidential  smile,  as  if  he  would 
say,  "  You  and  I  understand  each  other,  we  are  from  the 
same  city  of  Cork,  you  know."  AH  he  possesses  he  would 
give  to  catch  another  glimpse  of  his  native  city,  of  the  vege- 


84         DIAR  Y  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  with  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  lo  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  lo  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.  83 

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  h^re  no  herbage 
grows.  Animal  life  seeks  in  vain  for  sustenance  in  this 
inexorable  soil.  Silence^  oppressive  silence,  reigns  on  every 
side.  The  voice  of  the  tumbhng  cataract  is  the  only  sound 
that  salutes  the  ear.  We  reach  Trinity  Rock,  an  enormous 
pile  of  naked  granite  standing  right  over  the  xiver  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  and  very  precipitous.  The  whole  river  is  magni- 
ficent, and  at  some  points  presents  the  appearance  of  a  lake, 
entirely  shut  in  by  wooded  hills,  the  most  abandoned  soli- 
tude it  is  possible  to  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. 

Qu(B  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  HaUfax  to  be  accomphshed  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,  and  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,  he  wears  a  Turkish  fez  and  looks 
picturesque     with     his     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  150  miles  in 
length,  and  about  35,  at  the  widest,  in  breadtli.     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         DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  AMERICA. 

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   Avas  incorporated  (as  a  distinct  State) 
in  the  Dominion  of  Canada  in  1873. 

t  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  of  the  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  DIAR  Y  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,  andalthough  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   II  o'clock,  August  the  9th,  we  proceed  to  Picton,  a 
distance  about  60  miles  across  the  Northumberland  Sound. 
•  Now  jbout  110,000. 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  BLUE  NOSES.         95 

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 
otay  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  betakes  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  illuminfs  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  of  the  world,  and  much  more. 

The  Indians  are  protected  here,  and  we  see  several 
of  them  and  their  very  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  would  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,cxx) . 


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  Killamey  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  Kerry. 
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  -.  —  '■'■  Quk  regio  in  terris  nostri  non  plena 
laboris  ?  "  The  clergy  receive  us  kind]3\  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  dose  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  of  the  "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  govCTior,  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  Kerr}'man  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         DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  AMERICA. 

thing  w^  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 
dejeuntr  d  la  fourchttte  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  bom, 
to  hear  hira  reply,  "  I  am  a  Blue  Nose,"  meaning  that 
he  was  born  in  Nova  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  thronging  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  njanufactories  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'sown  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  of  the  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  of  the  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.  ]\Ir.  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  ;i^2oo  (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 


loo        DIARY  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 
thea  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  we  declined 
accepting  them  until  we  were  assured  that  they  could  afford 
them.  "  Oh !  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. 'I'he  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,       loi 

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  gloho ;  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  ? 

The  house  is  at  present  rented  (during  the  summer  months, 
in  the  absence  of  the  Archbishop)  by  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dwyer,  a 
young  coaple  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 
Scolia,  and  here  are  fields,  surrounded  by  trees,  shut  in  from 
all  the  world.     A  few  hundred  children,  boys  and  girls,  are 


1 0  2        DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  A  M ERICA. 

disporting  themselves  in  various  ways.  There  are  seveial 
"  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'sw  He  was  not  chez  luiaX  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  sum  of 
875  dollars — namely,  £,iTS. 


I04        DIARY  OF  A  TOUR  IN  AMERICA. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ST.  JOHN.      GOOD-BYE  TO   CANADA. 

Thursday,  August  ^ih. — 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,  alwa5's  excepting  the  desert  of 
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  tliat  caprice  for  which  she  is  so  remarkable,  robes 
herself  in  the  gaudiest  fashion  of  the  period.  The  sun  is  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  Pr^,  immortalized  as  the  scene  of  Long- 
fellow's "  Evangeline."  The  village  of  Grand  Pr^  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  loatli 
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 


1 06        DJAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  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 
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.  MacSvveeny,  one  of  the  wealthiest  Catholic 


io8       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  are 
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 
jssued  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 of  the  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  AMERICA. 

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. 


ST.  JOHN.  Ill 

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  j  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  courteous 
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  bom.      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  TOUR  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  100  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  ;^2oo.  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  bad  their  subscriptions  ready  for  us, 

I 


1 14        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  SL  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.  115 

the  object.  All  are  well  dressed,  and  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  Ave  were  nothing  loath  to  satisfy 
them. 

A  party  of  us  was  arranged  to  go  up  the  St.  John  river 
to  Fredericton,  on  Saturday,  September  loth,  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        DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  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,  Coryphoeus 
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 
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  ver}'  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  TOUR  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  hot  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  ;i^6o,ooo  per  year.     What  a  falling  oflf  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  Parha- 
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  ia  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 


1 20        DIAR  Y  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  Englisii  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  comer.     The  children 


57:  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,  content  to  learn  their 
tongue  and  strive  to  help  civihzation  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  pla)ang  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  eifort  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  of  the  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.  123 

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  raa  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  ta  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  bout 
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 


1 24        DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  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. 
Whenthe  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  evehing  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  begia 


1 26        DJAR  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,  Irisli  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  laeautiful  view,  and 
was  once  a  French  camp  or  fort,  until  they  were  driven 
from  it  by  the  English.  The  celebrated  William  Cobbett 
was  stationed  at  this  fort,  as  a  p>rivate  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  bell.  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- 


128         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  of  the  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  icvite  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 


1 3  o        DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  A  M ERIC  A. 

the  Collinses  were  not  at  home,  but  that  tliey  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  tlie  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.  XIX 

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,  1870.  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        DIARY  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'Svveeny'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  ot 
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.  133 

iM'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  congl) 
■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  vrere  permitted  to  retire.  We  had  to 
j-ise  next  morning  at  the  early  hour  of  6  to  do  our  packing — 
hy  no  means  an  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  of  the  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.  John  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.  \^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  wharves,  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  3,  "  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- 
less  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 
kave  a  letter  of  introduction  to  a  Father  O'Callaghan, 
one  of  the  priests  of  the  place.  The  Irish  population 
of  Portland  is  not  nuich,  and  larger  fieldc  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  AMERICAP  1 3  7 

But  I  let  things  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 
€asy.  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; 


1 3  8        DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  A  M  ERIC  A. 

then  why  not  keep  them  at  home  ;  we  have  the  burden  of 
them ;  they  are  poor,  and  we  want  all  their  resources  ta 
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,ooo  and  they  are  poor.  AVe  spent 
the  evening  strolling  through  the  streets.  The  greater 
part  of  this  city  was  burnt  three  years  ago,  but  it  has  beea 
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. 

Sepiemler  iGih. — 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 
efifect  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 

ball,  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,  Avhere  he  was  a  waiter  at  French'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  I'jth,  1870. — How  will  Bishop  Williams  receive 
us?  no2is  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.     I^e  receives  us  civilly  and 


I40        DIARY  OF  A  TOUR  IN  AMERICA. 

asks  us  up  stairs.  I  briefly  State  the  object  of  our  mission ; 
he  Hstens  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. 
AVe  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  ' '  A  THENS  OF  AMERICA ."  14^ 

of  Catholicity  are  by  a  sweeping  majority  either  Irish  or  the 
descendants  of  Irish,  the  CathoHcs  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  ii> 
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        DIAR  Y  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 
Avith  his  boat  and  ibrought  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 
tlie  old  country,  more  sociality,  more  friendship,  more 
chance  of  saving  one's  soul.  Come  to  America,  and  you 
>inust  work  hard,  and  work  without  ceasing.  In  summer  the 
heat  is  so  killing  that  you  would  wish  it  would  kill  you  out- 


144        DTAR  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  ir> 
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  OE  AMERICAN  145 

they  are  made,  fairly  and  dispassionately,  nothing  extenu- 
ating, nouglif"  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  Corkmjn,  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. — ^^Ve  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  th^ 
first  day.  On  my  return  to  the  hotel,  I  find  a  card  for  me, 
*' John  Charles  Buckley,  Knight  of  the  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  DIARYOFA  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  Providence  he  tempted.    The  reasoning  was  not 


THE  "ATHENS  OF  AMERICAN  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  tlie  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  i6th  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  structiure 
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.  loth. — 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 


I4»  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  anecdote  of  their  kindness  can  be  told,  for  they  were  ail- 
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  raa 
out  and  followed  us.  She  called  us  in  and  in  a  very  Irisli. 
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  oi> 
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,  bat  when  I  wake  I 
hear  them  buzzing  about  my  head,  and  every  morning  reveals- 
new  mischief  at  their  hands  oti  mine.  I  must  have  patience 
with  them  as  with  other  crosses. 

September  25///.  At  the  invitation  of  Father  Scully  of 
Cambridge,  to  whom  I  have  already  alluded,  I  preach  irk 
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 


1 50        DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  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  AM  ERIC Ar  1 5 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  A  ME  RICA. 

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,"  /.  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  oi  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  hiing 
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  ha? 
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  maybe,  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  of 
thought.     He  is  at  present  editor  of  the  Boston  Pilot, 


154  BIAR  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  University  Hall — the  other  two  rough  ;  of 
the  latter  one  is  called  Gore  Hall,  from  the  name  of  liira 
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: 


^:>> 


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.  AYter  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.    "W'e  see  it  from  the  roadside.    It  is  a  large,  old- 


iS6  DIAR  YOFA  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  ver}-  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,  "  Xature  seldom  helps  us  to  discover  a 
man's  rank  or  genius." 

I  replied  that  it  was  so,  and  tliat  in  his  own  poem  TJie 


THE  ' '  A  THENS  OF  AMERICA."  1 5  7 

Belfry  of  Bruges,  there  were  some  thoughts  expressive  of  the 
same  idea.  I  had  forofotten  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  dv.'elt  on 
die  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, 
Avhich,  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 


1 58       DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  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  yon,  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  Evangeline  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  were  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.  I  \th. — 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  ScJiool  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  OF  AMERICA:'  159 

with  an  immense,  an  overflowing  audience.  The  subject  of 
his  lecture  was  "John  ^o  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  bank- 
ruptcy and  seeking  among  the  Nations  for  a  rescuer. 

"  And,"  said  he,  "  if  the  strong  old  Islander,  who  after  all 
\s  your  own  father  !!  r'  (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 
Xiancashire  cotton-spinners,  sympathised  strongly  with  the  North. 


i6o        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-phi m  and  Jonathan  swallowed  ii 
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:'  i6i 

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, 
deUvered  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 
Kome  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  of  the  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 


i62  BIARY  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 
J)eloved  country  by  its  real  name — Columbia.     I  think  we 


THE  '' ATHENS  OF  AMERICAr  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  j  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.  i2,th. — 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 

II  o'clock  he  called  in  a  magnificent  landau  (he  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 


i64  DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  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  bom» ' 
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  Avorld  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 

xind  he  could  not  remember  a  single  instance  wlicre  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  comer-stone  of  a  New  Home  for  Destitute 
children.  It  was  altogether  a  Catholic  affair.  The  funds  for 
the  erection  of  the  building  are  the  voluntary  offerings  of  the 
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 


1 66         DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  AMERICA. 

showing  their  power,  and  they  showed  it  to  some  purposa 
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  Pilots  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  lime,  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.  23r^,  Sunday. — I  deliver  my  lecture  on  the  History 
of  Irish  Music  this  evening  in  the  Boston  Theatre.  Mr. 
Parney  Williams  says  this  is  one  of  the  finest  theatres  in  the 


THE  ''ATHENS  OF  AMERICAN  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  in  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 


i68        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  the  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  of  the  "death  of  General  Lee"  on  the 
previous  day.  The  event  occurred  almost  at  the  moment 
Mr.  Tarbell  was  addressing  me. 

Another  remarkable  coincidence  of  the  same  kind  occurred 
the  day  before  my  lecture.  After  tracing  the  history  of  the 
Irish  Cards  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  vety 
young,  and  it  is  no  rare  thing  to  see  them  employed  at 


17©  niARYOFA  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  immistakable.  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  I " 

*-■  How." 

«  Why  he  skedaddled  at  Bull  Ran." 

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  thty  are  paid  for  it — you  help 
yourself  a.nd 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 esfafe,  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  (ew  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  1  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  Tilot  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  i^  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  whea 
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  BIAR  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 
tlie  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 — i,ooo  dollars  per  night.  I  do  not  know 
shall  I  go  to  hear  her ;  I  am  indifTerent. 

During  my  convalescence  I  sometimes  strolled  through 


THE  '' ATHENS  OF  AMERICAr  175 

the  Boston  Common,  a  ver}'  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  of  the  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 


1 76  DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  A  M ERIC  A . 

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  "  A  THENS  OF  AMERICA."  1 7 7 

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. 

Fechler,  the  celebrated  actor,  is  playing  here  for  some 
months  back.  I  went  to  see  him  in  "  Hamlet."  I  have 
rot  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  TO  UR  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  Toiiikyns.  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 
iind  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" 
ho.  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 


i8o        DIAR  Y  OF  A  TOUR  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.  I  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  13///. — 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  mide  a  collection  of  284  dollars.     I  dined  with  the 


THE  "  A THENS  OF  AMERICAN'  i8 r 

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  DIARY  OF  A  TOUR  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,  good  night !"" 
and  I  rushed  from  him  upstairs,  I  locked  ray  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  4  J  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  AM  ERIC Ar  183 

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 ; 


i84  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  of  the  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  i8o,  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  AMERICAN  185 

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 — 
liere  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  ?  w^hy  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,  go  to  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  mrfgic  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  i.s 
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  ot 
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  AMEEICA."  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  ot 
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  Post-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  "  ot 
Boston. 


1 83       I?7AJ?  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  A  M ERIC  A. 

Boston  is  called  from  a  place  of  the  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  24//;,  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 


I 


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 
feiu ;  but  I  declined  them  all.  I  don't  care  to  dine  with 
people  I  don't  know  well. 

November  2^i/i. — This  morning  I  went  by  rail  to  Worces- 
ter, a  city  (I  beHeve  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  '*  town"  iiv 
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  10 J  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 
iiis  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 
<ianger  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  carrk.  The  chief  dish,  it  being  Friday,  was  fish  . 
"chowder,"  a  kind  of  hotch-potch — viz.,  fish,  biscuits,  pota- 
toes, vegetables,  sauce,  &c. 

We  spoke  of  the  variety  of  dishes  prevailing  in  various 
countries.  I  said  I  found  it  hard  to  like  some  American 
dainties,  which  tlie  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  turnip?.  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  DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  A  M ERIC  A . 

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  i,ooo  in  the  Mechanics'  Hall, 
and  realized  163  dollars. 

All  the  while  I  had  been  suflfering  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  Count)-.  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  AMERICAr  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  neophytisra. 

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  inniy  room,  while  all  the  world  were  enjoying 
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  vamly  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  sotfnd — 

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 

'I'hus  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  ni)-  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, 

>\nd  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, 
W^ould  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, 

AVhich  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  I  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. 


1 96        DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  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  J  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  regarded  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  Day.  See 
what  a  change  has  taken  place  in  a  few  years.     Christmas 


THE  ' '  A  THENS  OF  AMERICAP  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 
tJieir  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,  "Missjannette  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 


198        DIAR  Y  OF  A  TOUR  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, 
^he  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  thati  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  lad)'. 

From  all  I  learn,  the  antipathy  to  the  Catholic  religion  and 
the  Irish  population  is  very  intense  in  this  country.     One 


THE  "  ATHENS  OF  AMERICAr  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  w-all  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 
1 2  train.  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  m.y  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  skiftj  while 
the  little  bells  tinkled  a  merry  peal  over  the  horse's  back. 


THE  ''ATHENS  OF  AMSRICAr  20 r 

We  met  many  other  sleighs  on  the  way,  some  driven  by 
ladies,  others  by  gentlemen  ;  but  ours  was  as  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  v^as  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  no  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  70**  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.     Everj-one  appears  to 


S02  DIAR  YOFA  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  of  the  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  entr6e  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  Ave  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  farewell* 
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  ist. — 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  BIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  AMERICA. 

America  seem  very  fond  of  the  Irish  airs.  Moore's  Melodies 
are  the  great  favourites.  1  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  T^rd. — I  feel  quite  strong  enough  to  return  to  town. 
Father  McCarthy  came  with  me  ;  1  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 
Tliomas  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  1 2  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  hospitalit)',  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 ot  Puritanism  in  the  State.     There   is  a  place  here 


THE  ''ATHENS  OE  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  Muinleravsara,  Co.  Cork,  dined  with  Mr. 
Egan,  who  drove  me  to  Peabody.  This  is  a  large  town,  sa 
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. 


ao6  DIARYOFA  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  Hali,  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  of  the  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 
nd  nauseam.  But  for  spirit  and  ardour  and  Catholic  earnest- 
ness, I  never  saw  a  better,  nobler,  or  more  effective  demon- 
stration. 

January  Zth. — 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  xzth. — 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  AMERICAN  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  your  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  below  it. 

Ja?iuary  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- 
isage  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. 


2o8  DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  AMERICA. 

"  I  am  a  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 
tlie  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  of  the  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  " — />.,  in  our  phraseology,  "  Fast  Young  Men  of  the 
Drapers'  Clerks  class."  These  latter  felt  very  indignant 
that  their  class  should  be  thus  ignominously  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  21st. — 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,  and  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  me  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  IX. 

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'SuUivan — 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'SuUivan  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  bed. 


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  $isf,  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'SuUivan,  of  Wall  Street,  who 


THE  EMPIRE  CITY.  iiz 

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  the  Catholic 
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  ^th. — 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  Httle  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  piect  de  resistance.  And  very  good  turkeys 
they  rear,  large  and  fat     At  dinner  there  is  seldom  more 


2 1 4  DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  A  ME  RICA . 

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  of  the  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,  *'  I  am  a  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  T/ie  Old  Curiosity  Shop — "Short  is  good 
— but  I  cottons  to  Codlin." 

We  reached  Tammany  Hall  in  due  time,  and  there  was 


THE  EMPIRE  CITY.  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  citj  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 
marched  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  polic*  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 
in  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  tliunders  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  of  the  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  oi 
England  is  undying  in  the  Irish  breast  all  the  world  over. 

To  nie  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  of  the  purser,  Mr.  Ambrose  Shea,  son  of  the  late 
Mr.  John  Shea,  once  Mayor  of  Cork.  We  had  a  jolly  snug 
little  party;  some  of  the  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." 


2iS  DIARYOFA  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  of  the  tide  the 
ice  increases ;  at  the  ebb,  otherwise.  It  floats  down  from 
the  Hudson  and  East  Rivers. 

February  12th. — 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,  ol  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,  (i) 
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 


2  2  o  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  splif.  I  learn  afterwards 
that  the  gallant  Colonel  had  a  lot  of  fellows  paid  to  call  on 
him.  The  air  was  filled  with  cries  of  "  Eoberts,"  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  oft  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.  221 

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 


2  2  2        DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  A  M ERIC  A. 

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  arid  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  m.e  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  very  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  2^rd. — Stayed  within  doors  all  day  preparing  my 


THE  EMPIRE  CITY.  223^ 

lecture  for  the  Boston  Theatre.  Had  a  visit  from  Mr.  B. 
Devlin,  of  Montreal,  who  came  to  invite  me  to  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  12  th  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  5'ou  don't  care  that  the  by- 
standers should  learn  all  about  it,,  you  say,  "  You  know  how 
it  is  yourself."  1  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 


2  24       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. 


J 


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,  for  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  TO  UR  IN  AMERICA. 

the  air  is  sweet ;  but  pass  through  the  "  gents'  cabin,"  and 
the  atiposphere  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  snuflf  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 
J  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 


THIE  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  e^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. 


2  2  8        DJAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  AMERICA. 

March  i  \th — 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. 


I 


''A  PRIESTLY  FENlANr  229 


CHAPTER    X. 

"a   priestly   FENIAN." 

March  \$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  DIAR  YOFA  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  of 
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 
Tmnk  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  gentlemen  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." 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  spend  at  their 
business.  One  man,  an  Irishman,  said  to  me  of  his  employer : 


"A  PRIESTL  V  FENIANr  2  3 1 

"  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  "  Alniighty  Dollar."  The  reader's 
imagination  must  supply  the  style  of  costume,  but  the  lady 
illustrated  the  theology  of  the  age  and  country. 

March  xdth. — 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  \ith. — 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  wilh  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 


<ts2       DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO UR  IN  A M ERICA. 

church,  and  form  there  when  Mass  is  over.  Accordingly  at 
lo  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  elives,  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  oft'ertory  of 
a  pure  Irish  character — nothing  less   than  the  "  Minstrel 


"A  FHIE STL  Y  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  ^s  my  clothes  were  in  !    Oh, 
holy  St.  Patrick,  what  did  I  ever  do,  that  you  should  treat 
me  so  ?    It  was,    nevertheless,  a  grahd  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 
peoi)le  in  the  Hall.  At  the  right  of  the  chairman  sat 
General  Dart,  U.S.  Consul  to  Canada,  and  at  the  left  was 
myseli".     I  found  that  an  address  was  to  be  delivered  by  the 


234  DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  AMERICA. 

Rev.  M.  B.  Buckley,  in  the  second  part  of  the  programme. 
])uring  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 
addresSc  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  of  the  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 


I 


"A  PRIESTL  Y  FENIAN." 


from  bank  to  bank,  with  ice  three  feet  deep.  It  has  not 
broken  up  yet,  although  1  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  tn^o  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        DIAR  Y  OF  A  TOUR  IN  AMERICA. 

or  Swaddler  comes  and  lectures  here  he  may  speak  as  much 
treason  as  he  hkes.  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  of  the  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 FENIANr  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."- 

"  Patrick,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. 


238  DIARY  OF  A  TOUR  1]^  AMERICA. 

*'  And  Patrick,"  said  T,  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  rimning  tlirough  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  FENl AN."  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  24//^. — 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  FENIANr  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  movementsand  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  1  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  knov.'S  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  TO  UR  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  hojoe  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 FENIANr  243 

>vith  a  very  handsome  pair  of  slippers  which  she  wrought 
for  me. 

March  2^th. — 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,"  v/e  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        DIARY  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  iiv 
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  PRIESTL  Y  FENIANr  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 
<irive.  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  Sows. 
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  of  the  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  2W1.—I  dine  to-day  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-dowTi,  that  is  a  Northern  priest, 
could  not  enter  fully  into  the  feelings  of  her  Cork  husband. 

March  z'jih. — ^I  am  in  Father  Egan's  room.  The  bo) 
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  Oi 
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  ladie?  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  making  proper  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  zWi. — 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  oanquet 
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,  m 
their  enemies. 

March  29///. — ^The  Gazette  is  but  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        DIARY  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  tlie 
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 
<iid  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,  \yhat  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  Y  OF  A  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  rriotion  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  recherchCy 
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  breaklast  was  the  payment  ot 
some  extravagant  number  of  cents.    But  I  only  heave  a  sigh 


"A  PRIESTLY  FENIANr  251 

for  old  Ireland,  and  change  cars  for  New  York.  We  steam 
a"way  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 — '}ii  is  a  charming  morning. 
The  Canadian  cold  is  gone,  but  I  find  traces  of  ^aow  thus- 
far  south. 

March  ^isf. — 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  drovrned,  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. 

Queernames  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  caniages.  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  A  M ERIC  A. 

corn,"  or  a  prize  candy  package  cast  into  your  lap,  or  into 
the  book  you  are  reading.  You  must  inspect  those  tilings, 
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  XI. 

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 
Taw,  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. 


there  is  an  iron  railing  enclosing  a  green  plot,  where  "^iiere 
are  some  high  trees.  The  upright  iron  bars  of  this  railing 
■were,  Avhile  the  English  ruled  here,  surmounted  by  heads  of 
George  III.,  but  during  the  revolution  the  heads  Avere  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  1th. —  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  long  by. 


254  DIARY  OF  A  TOUR  2N  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 
&  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  Wi. — 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°.  All 
the  evidence  of  summer  became  suddenly  manifest — the 
butter  melted  at  table,  ever}'one  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  ^th. — Easter  Sunday.  The  heat  to-day  is  intense — 
as  hot  as  anyone  could  desire.     A  cool  breeze  would  be 


2  5  6  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 
tem.ptations  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  W  YORK  IN  SUMMER.  257 

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 
tlie  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  /lorrendum  viforme  ingens  aii  lumen  ademptum. 
I  dine  to-day  with  Mrs.  Attridge.     The  spectacle  of  the  streets 
where  the  Germans  most  do  congregate,  particularly  Avenue 
B,  and  the  streets  oflfit,  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  of  the  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  other  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 

s 


358  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 
rationality  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  sob- 
pectoral  development  which  seems  peculiar  to  the  ladies  of 
Deutschland. 

April  xoth. — 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  Hags  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  tlieir 
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  Pmssian  soldier,  or  a  bandsman,  or  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 
5ix  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  ratlier  to  Father  Mooney's  house  which  commands  it.. 
There  is  no  language  of  mine  by  which  I  could  convey  tlie 
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. 


26o  DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  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  of  the  German  papers,. 


1 


NE  W  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 
platform  was  brilliantly  lighted  up,  and  400  voices  chaunted 
hymns  of  jubilee  ;  electric  lights  and  lime  lights  turned 
Tiight  into  day  ;  fireworks  were  going  on  in  all  quarters  ; 
rockets  mimicked  the  stars  ;  hundreds  of  thousands  prome- 
Tiaded  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 


a62  DIAR  y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  AMERICA. 

^lemonstration  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  tlu-ee  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  ofticers 
were  present,  and  they  looked  like  officers — /.<?.,  gentlemen, 
like  ours  at  home,  and  very  unlike  the  colonels  and  captains 
I  have  met  in  undress.  Perhaps  if  the  latter  were  dressed 
£11  viilitaire  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.  263 

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,  quocutique  modoy 
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.     J  have  seen  Jim  Fisk,  I  go  home 
contented. 

April  12th. — 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  JN  SUMMER.  ^65 

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,  oa 
i.  wet  day.  You  envy  the  fellow,  he  succeeds  so  well  in 
<eeping  himself  dry.  On  Broadway  also  stretching  out  into 
".e  street  from  the  very  top  of  a  house  is  a  gigantic  figure 
.    a  bear,  to  imply  that  bear-grease,  and  other  ointments 


266  DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  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  Avonderful  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  ne^vspapers,  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  tliat  crowd  this  perhaps 
the  most  carriage-driven  street  in  all  the  worlcL 


268       DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO UR  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 
iaid  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 
'^lorses,  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. 


NEW  YORK  IN  SUMMER.  26^ 

April  i^th. — 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  aa 
eminence  commanding  a  vast  prospect  of  land  and  water. 


ajo        DIAR  Y  OF  A  TOUR  IN  AMERICA. 

In  the  neighbourhood  are  some  breastworks  thrown  up  by 
the  Enghsh  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 
the  antics  of  the  squirrels  among  the  trees,  it  was  the  first 
lime  I  saw  squirrels  in  a  state  of  nature. 

April  2\st. — 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 
ofiice,  Nassau  Street.  He  is  editor  of  the  Irish  Citizetu  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. 


NE  W  YORK  IN  SUAfMER.  2  7 1 

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 5 //5i.— Preached  at  St  Andrew's  Church,  afler 
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  Hecker. 

The  Catholic  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.  McGlynn,)  I  think  the  finest  churcli  in  New 
York. 

April  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. 


272        DIAR  Y  OF  A  TOUR  IN  AMERICA. 

April  2'jih. — 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  30///. —  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 


J 


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. — I  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  houses,  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 

T 


2  74        DIARY  OF  A  TOUR  IN  AMERICA. 

number  of  gentlemen,  members  of  the  local  Fatlier  Mathew's 
Temperance  Society,  are  at  present  in  the  church,  and  wish 
/me  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  tlie  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  tlie  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  of  the  •"  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  otlier  very  young  ladies  all 
of  whom  are  very  useful  in  laying  the  dinner  on  the  green 
fiward  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  Byrne  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  man  has  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  ^ind  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  <lon  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 — 


276         DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  AMERICA. 

e^.,  "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  ta 
the  vehicle,  he  breaks  the  gentleman's  skull.    The  latter- 


NE IV  YORK  IiV  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 
J?y  influence  / — 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 
•€ee  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- 
■homs  "  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 — 
l)ut  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  V  OF  A  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  4ih. — 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  ^th. — 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.  I'hey 
gave  a  commission  to  an  upholsterer  to  furnish  according 
to  improved  taste,  regardless  of  expense.     Similar  commis- 


NE  W  YORK  IN  S  IjMMER.  2  7  9 

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  Kerr)', 
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  i^ih. — Spend  this  evening  with  Mr.  and  Mrs,  Lyo©^ 
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 


28o       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  v.'ere  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  2oth. — 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.  Everett,  formerly  of 
Skibbereen,  was  with  us.  Leaving  this  we  took  the  steamer, 
accompanied  by  Mr.  Nicholson,  Commissioner  of  Charities, 
and  proceeded  to  Kandall'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 
€ver  saw — no  forehead — long  nose — receding  chin — no  ex- 
pression in  the  eyes — whole  body  stunted — he  looked  very 
Jike  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- 


a32         DIARY  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  ga 
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 


NEW  YORK  IN  SUMMER.  285 

only  has  sustained  a  ner/ous  shock,  while  a  small  bone  ia 
his  shoulder  is  broken. 

I  go  to  Father  McCarthy,  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  whca 
I  was  chaplain  there. 

Su7iday. — 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  w^orse.  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  lochs,  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 
^uite  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, 
^^.,  Dr.  Dollinger,  Pere  Hyacinth e,  &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.  285 

house  at  6.30  p.m.  Helena  and  Caroline  are  delighted  to 
see  me.  Tliey  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^\st. — 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,  sa 
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  i  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  nothmg  at  all  wonderful  in  the  world ;  wonders  exist 
only  in  man's  imagination.  Like  the  hero  of  the  comedy, 
"  L Homme  Blase,"  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 


iS6        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  liis 
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,  ya^vn,  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 IV  YORK  IN  SUMMER  287 

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 
ffeach  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 
Jiow  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 
Tnakes  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  woul^ 
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  mjrself  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 


a88        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  thai> 
the  literary  mediocrity  of  the  newspapers.  Perhaps  the  least 
entitled  to  respect  is  the  leading  journal,  the  Herald.  \n 
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  ether  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. 


words.  The  writer  never  ascends  to  dignity,  or  if  he  does,  he 
jumps  down  again  into  absurdity.  Even  when  enforcing 
moraHty  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  ^xt  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  of  the 
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  verj' 

u 


290  DIARY  OF  A  TOUR  IN  AMERICA. 

recherche  or  improving  character,  and  that  it  dwells  more 
on  the  exploits  of  "  Jack  Sheppard  "  and  "  Captain  Kidd," 
than  those  of  "  Julius  Caesar "  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  iT^th. — 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  difli- 
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  thcae 
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,  vvhom 
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   mjn    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 
fimd  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 
pariour ;  the  latter  has  been  prepared  solely  for  your  lord- 


NE  W  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  2/^th. — 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        DIARY  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 
of  the  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  r hotn7ne 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, 


298  DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  A  MERICA . 

women,  light  and  song— all  melted  away,  like  the  feverish 
phantoms  of  a  dream,  like  the  *'  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision." 
Sunday,  June  25M. — 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  diflference  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  21th. — 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,  «S: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  T,oth. — 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 
^o  the  literary  taste  of  my  fellow  citizens.  Charley  takes  me 
out  and  makes  me  accept  a  present  of  a  pair  of  French  crystal 


300       DIARY  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 


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  the  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  ever)'one  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        DIARY  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  1  leave  by  steamer  at  3.50  for  Haverstraw  on  the 
Hudson.  Lovely  evening — magnificent  scenery — wide  river, 
at  one  side  perpendicular  clififs,  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  of  the  great  State  Prison  of  New 
York.  Then  came  Haverstraw—  a  great  brick -making  place, 
at  the  foot  of  very  steep  wooded  clififs.     Lovely  country  all 


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  2^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  Bamum  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        DIARY  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  21th. — 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 


NE  W  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 
HiSitington,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  it. 

July  zZih. — 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  vp  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 


3o6       DIARY  OF  A  TOUR  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  2C)th  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  ray  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  x$i/i. — A  great  clam-bake  takes  place  to-day  oti 
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  of  the  place,  an  event  so  important  that  the 
local  papers — the  Suffolk  {Co.)  Bullet m  and  the  Huntington 
Independent  \J\ — made  allusion  to  its  forthcoming  some 
weeks  before  the  event,  and  intensified  allusion  in  the  direct 


3o8        ■"  DIAR  YOFA  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 
'-^  offis/date^*  on  that  auspicious  occasion,  etc. ;  or  "  Beauties 
of  Huntington  !  They  will  be  all  at  the  Clam-bake  on 
Tuesday."  "  Terpsichore  !  who  will  refuse  to  witness  thy 
performances  on  Tuesday  next  at  the  great  Huntington 
Clam-bake ! "  and  thus  ad  the  tnjiniium  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  THERSTOCKINGS  LAND.    309 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  TRIP   IN    LEATHliRSTOCKING'S   LAND. 

August  \itJi. — 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  J0.30  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- 


3IO  DIARYOFA  TOUR  IN  AMERICA. 

hampton,  but  at  a  certain  junction  I  deflect  from  Coopers- 
town,  distant  i6  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 
mc  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  "  boquets,"  accent  on  second 
syllable),  *'  dearly  bought  for  ladies."     I  fancy  a  great  ball 


A  TRIP  IN LEATHERSTOCKINGS  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  bur  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  TO  UR  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  iSf/i. — After  breakfast  we  all  proceeded  on  foot  to 
the  lake  Otsego,  which  I  humorously  dubbed  "Hot  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 LEATHERSTOCKINGS  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 
Jong,  by  an  average  of  three  miles  broad,  the  water  so  green 
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 
of  the  lake,  and  awakening  the  thousand  slumbering  echoes 
of  the  mountains.     As  she  steams  past  us  we  perceive  that 


3  r  4  JDIAR  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  iot 
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  v,-e  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.  "W'e  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  LEATHERSTOCKINGS  LAND.  315 


birth,  and  most  of  all — for  that  is  what  now  strikes  us  most 
— on  the  lovely  scenery  of  Lake  Otsego.  Some  itw  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  1 1th. — 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  i,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  m.entioned,  the  inhabitants  of  the  little 
village,  thirty-five  in  number,  came  forth  to  welcome  "  the 
lord  of  the  manor,"  and  paid  him  that  qjtasi  feudal  homage 
which  has  since  grown  not  obsolete,  but  odious  even  to  the 


3 1 6  Z>IAJ^  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 
I7Q5  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,  on  this  very  foot  of 
ground  George  Washington  developed  to  Judge  Cooper  his 
military  schemes,  or  Talleyrand  cracked  some  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-apie  with  feathers  and 
«calps,  with  tomahawk  and   mocassins.     This  is  not  ths 
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 
^d  his  greatest  ambition  would  be  to  be  drowned  in  that 


A  TRIP  IN  LEA  TUER  STOCKINGS  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,  Avith  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  Misss  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  21st. — All  up  at  five  this  morning,  because  we 


3 18         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  riglit  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  Sliaron,  distant 
seven  miles.  On  this  railroad  are  some  wooden  structures 
ninning  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  LEATEERSTOCKTNGS  LAND.  319 

go  on  farther,  or  rather  deeper ;  for  it  is  all  one  long  descent 
into  a  valley,  buried  in  high  wooded  hills.  When  v/e  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  degagee  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  tg%.  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. , 


320        DJARY  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  the  waitress, 
and  she  fetches  it  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  But  now, 
she  brings  on  a  tray  about  six  or  seven  wine-glasses,  whicl> 
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  Liebfraurailch  ?  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  1  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  THERSTOCKINGS  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  of  the  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 ;  ve?y  elegant,  in  the  midst  of  a  well-cultivated  and 
picturesque  country.     The  hotels  are  here  on  a  very  large 

y 


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


scale,  and  with  their  white  wails,  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  tr}'ing  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  unselfisli  where  a  noble  motive  can  inspire 
them.     There  is  a  pretty  Catholic  church  here,  but  very 


A  TRIP  IN  LEA  THERSTOCKINGS  LAND.    3  23 

small.  Father  Devitt  says  Mass  here  ever}' 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.  AV^e  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- 


324  DIARYOF  A  TOUR  IN  AMERICA. 

the  marriage  couple  are  probably  waiting  in  tlie  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  found  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  2Gth. — Morning  wet;  proper  time  and  state  of 
the  atmosphere  to  visit  Cooper's  grave.  He  is  interred 
within  the  precincts  of  the  Episcopal  Churcli,  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  witliin  the  village,  or 
shall  we  say  town?  I  dare  say  we  had  better  say  town, 
especially  as  it  publishes  two  newspapers — the  Otsego 
Rtpiiblican  and  tlie  Fnemans  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  t 
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  i-our  old  effete  heads  you  have  done 


A  TRIP  IN  LEATHER  STOCKINGS  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- 
iianna  before  the  settlement  of  Cooperstown,  yet  numbers 
of  them  still  lingered  about  the  old  camping  grounds,  and 
stragglers  from  the  Delawares  and  the  ^tohawks  were  occa- 
iiionally  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 
looks,  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  tlieir  native  woods  and  the  occasional  smoke  of 


326  DIARY  OF  A  TOUR  IN  AMERICA. 

the  w'igv\-am,  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  27///. — Sunday;  awful  storm,  and  equally  awful 
heat ;  thermometer  at  80°  all  day ;  never  ceasing  rain  from 
morning  till  night.     Mass  and  sermon  by  me.     After  Mass 


A  TRIP  IN LEATHERSTOCKINGS  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  tj\eir  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. 

August  2W1. — 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.  Iler  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  w^hich  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        DIARY  OF  A  TOUR  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  ta 
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  XIIT. 

CONCLUSION. 

August  29///.— 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  ^ot/i. — Fearfully  bitten  by  mosquitos  last  night. 
See  Father  Crowley  oft  for  Ireland  by  the  '*  Minnesota  " — 
*^  Bon  voyage  !"  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  **  PTome,  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 
i)een  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 
-caUing  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- 


.?3o  DIAR  Y  OF  A  TO  UR  IN  AMERICA. 

'  ofore  to  the  completion  of  a  '  Limb  of  the  Law.*  But 
iiow  has  it  been  of  late  years?  There  is  scarcely  one 
ntelligent  reader  who  does  not  know  an  ignorant  and  stupid 
:ool  with  his  name  over  the  door  of  a  lawyer's  office,  whose 
v.hole  qualifications  for  his  successful  admission  to  the  Bar 
iiave  been  acquired  by  three  weeks'  reading  of  Blackstone, 
as  many  years'  drinking  of  bad  whiskey,  and  a  little  in- 
Huence  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 
iaw  have  had  themselves  admitted  to  the  Bar  for  the  fun  of 
;he  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  asliaraed  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  staled  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  monoi)olise  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  Iiow  so  many  lawyers  do  live  iu 
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.  Tlie  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        DIAR  Y  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 
xeligion  is  spoken  of  in  this  country  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- 
<:hewing,  precociously  sinful  little  wretch,  whose  father  had 
gone  West.  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 
\vhich  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  E-eligion."  They  contend  that  they 
.are  equal  to  all  the  pulpits  of  America.     Having  no  par- 


CONCLUSION,  33S 

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  Ne7Ct  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  eartli.  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  AAfERICA. 

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  Nepomunce  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  it 
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  resume  of  the  previous  Sunday's 
sermons.  But  in  its  reviews  of  these  sermons  there  is  an 
iiir  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  teacli  the  truth,  while  it  is  '.veil  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 
of  the  Press  have  been  interviewing  the  inmates  of  those  hells, 
^nd  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  Z^^rar/^  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  1 2th, — 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  bj'  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  higlx 
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 

z 


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  v/ell  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  freslily  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  \st. — 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        niAR  Y  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. 


APPENDIX. 

FUGITIVE    PIECES 

IN 

Verse  and  Prose, 


V 


TOETRY.  345 


Bunmanwag  tTown. 


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, 
^Vith  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, 

lie  raised  that  edifice  up  from  the  ground. 


546  APPENDIX. 


*Tis  there  in  Shrovetimes,  those  famous  love  times, 

The  maidens  oft-times  they  do  repair,* 
AVith  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  giushX  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. 

+  Names  of  celebrated  local  match-makers. 

X  Cittsh  is  the  Irish  word  for  "  bog-wood." 


POETRY.  347 

AVere  I  Tyrtceus  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. 


Ube  Cork  CatbcDral  JSells. 

[Written  on  the  occasion  of  erecting  a  Peal  of  Bells  in  St.  Mary's- 
Cathedral,  Cork.] 


I. 

What  joyous  chimes,  so  new  and  sw  eet. 

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, 


343  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. 

III. 
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  psean  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. 


•®  •TJS^ 


POETRY.  34f> 


5'm  Xcft  Blone, 


[T7ritten  on  the  death  of  an  intimate  friend,  a  Fellow  Student  iii 
Cullege.] 


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. 

III. 

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  raem'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. 


Z\iz  l^oung  3J)ca. 


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  b}'. 

But  soon  came  Reason's  light  out-gleaming 
My  blissful  childhood's  starlike  dreaming, 
And  showed  me  with  her  moon-bright  beaming, 

i\las  !  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. 


IKflbat  wouldn't  5  Smasb  tor  l^our  SaRc. 

(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  ?  '* 


rOETRY. 353 

Uut  soon,  dear,  I  took  to  despairing. 

And  grieving  \ve  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  I\Iolly — 

What  wouldn't  I  smash  for  her  sake  ? 

And  now,  dear,  alas  !  1  m  returning, 

To  traverse  the  prairie  once  more  ; 
My  bosom  witli  love,  dear,  is  burning. 

Farewell,  darling  jNIolly  asthore. 
But  one  day,  if  I  don't  fall  in  battle. 

In  the  land  of  the  shamrock  I'll  take 
The  hand  of  sweet  Jlolly,  and  rattle 

"  What  wouldn't  1  smash  for  her  sake  ?  '* 
Cork,  September  i2ih,  1S63. 


E4:^>T-=~|^»- 


2  A 


354  APPENDIX. 


Ibopc  ano  5ni0fail. 


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  tlie  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  wccpest  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? 

\V  hat  is  't  thy  soul  distresses  ? 
A>Iayhap  thy  shipwrecked  children  sleep 

Within  its  dark  recesses. 
Though  sad  to-day,  tliy  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  tyrant  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  v,'e>dth  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. 

*''  J*Iark  how  the  still  unvanquished  Pole  ' 

Bleeds  for  his  dear  Sarmatia  ; 
llemember  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. 


35  S  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  !  " 


21  XcgenO  of  tbc  Sbannou, 


On  Shannon's  fair  majestic  tide 

The  moon  in  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  ? 


POETR  Y. 

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  ta?ight  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  nov/  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  I  braved  thy  father's  wrath, 
He  s\vore  the  kern  should  shun  thee. 

But  I  had  plighted  thee  my  troth, 
And  I  had  died  or  won  thee. 


359 


36o  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. 


^^1^ 


POETRY.  361 


21  aseautitul  ^canslatfon* 

[We  direct  the  attention  of  our  readers  to  a  translation  of  the  German 
poet  Biirger'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  cfcctcvj'e,  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  Biirger'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.] — Ainerkan  Paper, 

Xenore. 

[From  the  German  of  Gottfried  August  Biirger.] 

Lenora  sighed,  one  early  morn, 
From  troublous  dreams  awaking  : — 

*'  Oh  !  AVilhelm,  wilt  thou  ne'er  return, 
Thy  love  so  long  forsaking  ?  " 

With  Frederick's  army  to  the  war 

Had  Wilhelm  gone  to  Prague  afar  j 

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. 

*'  Novv,  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.  36s 

"  Oh  I  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  1  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 !  " 

Tlius  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  hke  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." 


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  dirge  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  higli 

With  supple  feet  and  plastic, 
Half  visible  in  moonshine  fly 

A  band  of  elves  fantastic, 
**  Ha  !  merry  elves,  come  hither,  prnj'. 
Know  you  not  'tis  our  bridal  dny  ? 
With  your  fantastic  treading 
You'll  grace  our  gladsome  weddii-jg." 

Behind  the  pair  the  elfins  rush, 

As  fear  or  fancy  brought  them, 
Whirring  as  wind  whirrs  through  the  busli 

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  I 
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  t'ae  travellers  hie. 
While  ghastly  in  the  moonshine 
The  stones  o'er  many  a  tomb  shine. 

Hark !  trembling,  hark  I  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. 

SB 


37©  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, 
Tor  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, 

TJiose  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  !  " 


[Written  in  1864,  when  Flax  culture  was  revived  in  the  South  of 
Ireland,  and  a  large  Factory  erected  in  Cork  under  tlie  auspices  of  llie 
late  Mr.  Maguire.j 

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  Ralihlin  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 ! 
Tlien  hurrah  for  the  scattering  of  the  flax  ! 

Sec  the  beauty  of  the  flax  ! 
Growing  flax ! 
In   the  smiling  days  of  summer-time  how  pretty  dolli   it 
wax ! 

In  the  comers  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 ! 


37*  APPENDIX. 

Hear  the  music  of  the  flax, 
Mills  of  flax ! 
Where  the  clangour  of  machiner}'  of  peace  and  plenty 
smacks. 

Hear  the  merry  voices  ringing 
Of  the  men  and  boys  and  women  j 
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, 
Who  have  lived  and  died  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 ! 
AnnuUer  of  evictions,  of  the  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  exiiaust  the  heavy 
packs,  of  the  flax,  flax,  flax,  flax. 
Flax,  flax,  flax, 
Then  hurrah  for  the  scattering  of  the  flax  ! 

Flaxman, 
Loam  Lodge,  %th  Feb.,  1864. 


POETRY. 


%\\  Jrfsb  2lcro5t(c  tor  '6S: 


175 


A  is  cin  Army  'tis  ours  to  repel, 
B  is  a  Bigotry  breathing  of  hell, 

0  is  the  Church  of  the  Saxon  and  Stranger, 
D  is  the  Diz/y  Dog  not  of  t'.ie  manger, 

S  is  Education  demanded,  denied, 
F  are  the  Famines  that  flow  as  the  tide, 
G  is  the  Gibbet  well  superintended, 
H  is  the  Habeas  Corpus  suspended, 

1  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  I^ondon  Bridge  ! 


376 


APPENDIX. 


?rbc  Xast  "Kose  of  Summer. 


'Tis  the  last  rose  of  summer, 

Left  blooming  alone, 
All  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  oestatis. 
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 

£t  gusta  tu  loetum. 

Sicpeream,  caris 

Cum  fuerim  oibatos 
Nee  orbis  Amoris, 

Fulgebit  gemmatus  t 
In  mundo  horrendo, 

Quis  ultro  maneret 
Si  simul  amatis 

Carisque  egeret. 


POETRY. 


377 


3fiU  tbc  JSumpcr  Jalr. 


Fill  the  bumper  fair 

Ev'ry  drop  we  sprinkle 
O'er  the  brow  of  care 

Smooths  away  a  wrinkle, 
AVit'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. 


TocuLA  replete, 

Frons  enim  rugosa, 
Curae,  potu  Iseti, 

Vini  fit  formosa. 
Calicis  ex  ore, 

Alte  si  potares, 
AUis  lepore. 

Facile  praestares. 

Pocula  replete, 
Frons  enim  rogosa 

Curaj,  potu  Iseti, 
Vini  fit  formosa. 

Coelo  de  profundo, 

Sapientes  vere, 
Jovis  summi  mundo, 

Ignem  detulere, 
Sapientiores, 

Nos,  ut  debacchamur, 
Coelo  de  leporis, 

Fulgura  furamur 

Velles  scire  quare, 

Pellimur  confestim, 
Vini  sic  amare, 

Spiritum  celcstem  ? 
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. 


Fcrtur  autem  ilium, 

Nulla  cum  adstaret, 
Urna  qu&  sciutillam, 

Rutilam  cclaret. 
Jovis  inter  aulas, 

Circum  se  spexisse, 
Ibique  Bacchi  mollis, 

Crateram  rcperisse. 

Fcecibus  cum  meri, 
Funditur  scintilla, 
Quoeque  cum  cratero), 

Comscaret  slilla. 
Virtus  inde  vino, 

Hincque  dum  vivamfs, 
Igne  hoc  divino 

Semper  ardcamus. 

Pocula  replete, 

Frons  enim  rugosa, 
Curse  polu  loeti, 

Villi  fit  formosa. 


FOETR  Y. 


379 


Z\iz  ©ID  5rf6b  5((T- 


C;cfpuD(um  1b(lJCcnicum. 


On  I  my  blessing  be  on  you  old  Eiin, 

My  own  land  of  frolic  and  fun  ; 
For  all  sorts  of  mirth  ind  "divars-.on" 

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. 


HiKERNiA,  sis  benedicta  ! 

Jucunda  enim  insula  es  : 
Gratiori  non  occurrit  viator 

Quocunque  dirigitur  pes. 
Bohemia  de  Polka  se  jaclel- 

Hispania  jactet  et  se — 
Hibernica  solum  chorea 

Delectat  tripudium,  me. 


Chorus— 


Chorus— 


Then  a  fig  for  your  new-fashioned  waltzes,  Hinc  GallicJB,  ergo,  choreic  T 
Imported  from  Spain  and  from  France,       Hispanse,  valete  et  vos ! 

And  a  fig  for  the  thing  called  the  polka,     Valete,  Bohemia,  vestrse  ! 
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, 
Hevseque,  nam  in  paradiso 

Consortium  non  fuit  sat — 
Potuerunt  et  Polka  saltare, 

Sed  Heva  non  gaudcns  in  re 
Tripudium  magis  dilexit 

Et  bene  dilexit,  nonne  ? 

Puellsc  venustse  nostrates 
Ceu  cervDG  resiliunt,  et 

Non  possunt  attingere  terram 
Quin  musicse  sonitum  det. 


38o 


APPENDIX. 


And  oft  in  their  hills  and  green  valleys,      Et  ssepe  in  colli  seu  valle 
The  old  jig  they  dance  with  such  grace,      Saltantibus,  sicut  est  mos, 

Tliat  even  the  daisies  they  tread  on,  Pra:  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 

13y  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."     Sonantibus  Rory  O'Moore 
And  oft  in  the  great  halls  of  Tara,  Temorensibus  quoque  in  aulis 

Our  famous  king  Brian  Boru,  Saltabat  Brianus  Bom, 

He  danced  an  old  jig  with  his  nobles,  Nobilium  stante  coroni 

And  played  his  old  harp  to  it,  too.  Sujb  citharze  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  pupa  liquefit. 
At  nisi  tripudium  saltasset — 

Audivi  a  parocho  rem — 
Cor  regis  scelesti  movendi 

Omnino  abjiceret  spem. 


FACETI^. 


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 
poxvdering,  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.  Thougli 
he  could  not  become  a  bishop  without  "  Nolo,"  yet  he 
holds  no  low  position  in  the  Church  ;  dwelling  in  z.  palace, 
and  oftentimes  sitting  on  a  throne,  he  frequently  gives  away 
a  crovon^  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 
iveak,  but  all  the  year  round.  He  may  not  translate  a 
foreign  language,  but  he  may  himself  be  translated  to  foreign 
jjarts.    He  may  not  lend  you  money,  but  he'll  tell  you  when 


",82  APPENDIX. 


and  how  it  is  Lent.  Not  over  indulgent  to  himself,  he  grants 
indulgence,  nay  even  //(f(?//j-^  to  others,  especially  to  those  who 
wish  to  lead  Zifast  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 
lie  helps  him  to  a  remove.  He  may  be  a  handsojnc  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/z-bishop.  Performing  rights  for  others,  he  is  coiitent 
with  dues  for  himself.  The  bishop  is  the  Iiead  of  his  own 
■chapter,  which  reminds  us  that  he  is  the  talc  of  this. 


DEATH  OF  A  DISTINGUISHED  GRINDER. 

This  morning  I  lost  by  death  one  of  ray  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 
liaving  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. 
Cut  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 


FACETI^.  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  z. penchant  foi 
neatness,  and  even  to  the  last  morning  of  his  life  brushed 
up  with  all  the  air  of  a  gallant.  A  short  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  "  z.cc\dental  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  da^'s  in  loose  habits  of  living.  He  leaves  no  issue, 
having  disappeared  root  and  branch.      It  may  be  said  in 


r84  APPENDIX. 


truth  that  he  leaves  a  void  which  cannot  be  easily  filled  upi 
His  neighbours  regret  his  demise  exceedingly,  for  he  was- 
te 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? 


Shalt,  CavEBa  &  'WAtKKB,  rrintcrs,  94,  95  and  96  Middle  Abbey  Street,  Dublin. 


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