WMWW 

 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 TOUR IN AMERICA.
 
 DIARY 
 
 OF A 
 
 TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 " In a new circle every character is a study, and every incident an adventure.'' 
 
 DISRAELI'S Lothair, ch. iv. 
 
 BY 
 
 REV. M. B. BUCKLEY, 
 
 OF CORK, IRELAND. 
 
 & Special Iflissionarg in $ortfj America anto (Eanafia in 1870 an& ISZl. 
 
 EDITED BY HIS SISTER KATE BUCKLEY. 
 
 Dedicated to the Irish People at Home and Abroad. 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE EDITRESS IN GREAT BRITAIN, IRELAND, 
 AMERICA AND CANADA. 
 
 DUBLIN: 
 SEALY, BRYERS & WALKER, 
 
 94, 95 & 96 MIDDLE ABBEY STREET. 
 1389. 
 
 (ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.) ,
 
 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 
 
 1127012
 
 A WORD TO THE READER. 
 
 animadversions omitted. I cannot undertake to edit the 
 work out of its original character ; besides, many of Father 
 Buckley's best friends have urged that, as his character and 
 capacity as a Patriot and a Priest are disclosed in these 
 casual notes, it would be unfair to his memory to take 
 from their point and piquancy by a too punctilious pruning. 
 With this apologetic explanation I send forth Fathei 
 Buckley's experiences of a Tour on the American Continent. 
 
 KATE BUCKLEY.
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAPTER. PACE. 
 
 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 
 
 VII. ST. JOHN. GOOD-BYE TO CANADA, - 104 
 
 viii. THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA," AND SOME OF THE 
 
 ATHENIANS, - - 136 
 
 IX. THE EMPIRE CITY, - - 2IO 
 
 X. "A PRIESTLY FENIAN," 229 
 
 XI. NEW YORK IN SUMMER, - 252 
 
 xii. A TRIP IN LEATHERSTOCKING'S LAND, - - 309 
 
 XIII. CONCLUSION, - - 328 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 FUGITIVE PIECES IN VERSE AND PROSE, - 345 
 
 FACETLE. - - - - -38l
 
 OF A 
 
 TOUR IN NORTH AMERICA, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE VOYAGE FROM IRELAND. 
 
 May 22nd, 1870. A clergyman and myself were appointed 
 by our Bishop to make a tour through America for the pur- 
 pose of raising funds for the completion of the Catholic 
 Cathedral of Cork. We arranged to sail by the Cunard 
 Royal Mail steamer " China," Avhich 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 t 
 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 surprise 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, 3 
 
 Thus, in a half-dreamy state of feeling, with a curious 
 mingling of pleasure and sadness, we spend our first evening 
 on the broad Atlantic. 
 
 Monday, May 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, 111., a Mr. Moorehead, of Philadelphia, a Dr. Strong, 
 of Cleveland, Ohio. The first of these gentlemen is a pure 
 American, a lawyer, and of most agreeable manners. Mr. 
 Moorehead is an elderly gentleman, tall and active ; he is 
 accompanied by his wife, her daughter, Miss Badger, his son, 
 a fine young gentleman, and Miss Bradbury, a friend ; they 
 are returning after a tour through Europe, Egypt and the 
 Holy Land. Mr. Moorehead opens a conversation with me. 
 He is of American birth, but of North of 'Ireland parents ; 
 is a member of the celebrated New York Banking firm, 
 J. Cook and Co. Dr. Strong is an Irishman, over twenty
 
 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 z^tk. This day is fine, and the wind 
 falls, to our stern ; 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 
 fellovvTVoyagers. 
 
 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 
 says. So we proceed to business at once. We exchange 
 cards, and he learns to pronounce my name though not 
 without an effort. Strange, however, as my name was to 
 him, his was more extraordinary to me. He was named 
 " Jules Osuchowski," born in Paris of a Polish father. He 
 can translate English very well, but can scarcely speak a 
 word ; 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 z^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 ; 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 listen. They 
 afterwards declared they were delighted. 
 
 I go on deck with some difficulty, as the wind sternly 
 opposes my progress. It is a magnificent spectacle 
 the huge waves rushing by at a furious pace ; great 
 seas rolling into the ship at the bow and filling the air 
 with spray ; the sailors clad in shapeless garments of oil
 
 6 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 cloths, hoisting or reefing sails ; the boatswain's whistle or 
 his loud voice directing their movements, and the great ship 
 riding on in its toilsome course with all the grace and 
 majesty of a high-mettled charger. I and a few others stand 
 near the funnel which shelters us by its bulk, and warms by 
 its heat. 
 
 The wind rises higher and higher ; it roars louder and 
 louder, and I begin to fear a hurricane, when the captain 
 (Macaulay) appears amongst us, looking cool and 
 whiffing a cigar with the nonchalance of a paterfamilias in 
 the midst of his penates. " Good morning, gentlemen ! " 
 he says in a gruff basso. " Good morning, captain," we 
 reply. " Fine weather this ! " he cries in the same tone, but 
 apparently with a keen sensation of pleasure. We all burst 
 out laughing at the captain's notion of fine weather, but we 
 felt relieved nevertheless. I had intended to ask the cap. 
 tain whether this was a hurricane, but felt ashamed after 
 his remark ; but at length a squall came that made the 
 ship lurch and halt in her course like a frighted steed ; it 
 whistled like a tortured spirit, and roared though the rigging 
 in a hideous discord of agony. " Captain," I asked, with 
 
 affected coolness, "I suppose this is what you would call ' 
 
 I was still ashamed to say hurricane "at least half a 
 gale ? " " Half a gale ! " cried the skipper, contemp- 
 tuously. " No ; this is what we sailors call a stormy wind," 
 and he turned on his heel, chuckling at the landsman's 
 notion of a gale. Stormy wind, thought I. Good gracious, 
 what must a hurricane be ! 
 
 I go into the saloon, and my French friend and I 
 do a big lesson of French and English. The difficulty 
 of going outside throws us very much together, and we
 
 THE VOYAGE FROM IRELAND 7 
 
 have all got thoroughly into the fraternizing spirit. I find one 
 of the passengers has got himself into a warm controversy 
 with an Indiana gentleman who contends that the utmost 
 latitude should be allowed for obtaining divorce between 
 man and wife. He would look upon the slightest inequality 
 of temper as a sufficient ground. The other gentleman has the 
 support of the general moral sense of the passengers, and 
 carries his point. The Indianian is shunned for the rest of the 
 voyage, especially as he subsequently proclaimed himself an 
 Atheist, 
 
 To-day we made 330 miles up to noon. The clock is put 
 back half-an-hour every day at 12. We discover two ships 
 to-day in the offing, and we are pleased with the additional 
 sight of Mother Carey's chickens. 
 
 Thursday, May z6th. The wind has abated and the sea 
 is calm, the sun shines, and the air is balmy. Almost all 
 the passengers come on deck, and we now see many faces 
 for the first time faces of those who had been sick. There 
 is a general feeling of pleasure all around ; the steerage 
 passengers too are all up and seem to enjoy the happy 
 change. Two large ships are in view one passes us at right 
 angles almost half a mile ahead. We speak her. She is the 
 " Mary Carson," bound from England to New York. She 
 salutes us by a flag raised above the stern, and we return it 
 in the same way. " A rather stern salutation !" I say to a 
 few bystanders. " One would expect it to have been 
 made at the bow" said Mr. Springer, and he receives the 
 applause due to his superior wit. 
 
 After dinner a large party of us sit on deck the Moore- 
 head party including the Misses Badger and Bradbury
 
 8 DIARY OF A TOUR JN AMERICA. 
 
 forming the nucleus of it. We have a series of songs all 
 round. My friend and I have to do the most of the 
 singing. Miss Badger is very smart, lively, and pretty. 
 She throws out a vast collection of conundrums, but I 
 answer them easily, having heard them all before. Her 
 memory for events is equally good, so we are all very 
 pleasant and happy, and the voyage loses the tedium of 
 monotony. Dr. Strong and I spend the evening with the 
 purser a very agreeable man. 
 
 From noon of yesterday up to noon to-day we only 
 made 244 miles owing to the strong wind. My Frenchman 
 speaks English much better, and I am becoming quite 
 aufait. 
 
 Friday, May 27 th. 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. 9 
 
 day ; we make 309, and several pounds are won and lost on 
 the event. 
 
 After lunch we have a great gathering on deck, the 
 Mooreheads, Mr. Springer and ourselves. Mr. Springer is a 
 general favourite, and laughs so heartily at everything and is 
 so natural and genial. We all have great singing and 
 punning. The whole body of cabin passengers flock to hear 
 the songs and jokes. I tell my Frenchman story and we 
 produce quite a sensational effect. 
 
 At four o'clock we proceed to dinner, and just as 
 we are in the middle of that important portion of the 
 day's business, the cry rings through the cabin, "An ice- 
 berg, an iceberg." The passion of hunger fiercely rules 
 the human breast, but curiosity appears to hold over man- 
 kind a still more exciting influence. There was a grand rush 
 from the dinner-table to see the iceberg. I gazed through 
 the window above me and saw it at a great distance ahead, 
 so I resolved to finish my dinner and view the wonder after- 
 wards, which I did The deck was crowded, even ladies who 
 had not left their berths from the beginning flocked up to see 
 the iceberg there it was, when we were nearest to it, almost 
 a quarter of a mile distant, a huge mountain of ice standing a 
 hundred feet out of the water and about eight hundred feet 
 in length, solitary, white and formidable, slowly floating away 
 from its arctic home and seeking involuntarily the latitudes 
 where it must melt and perish. It was a novel and magni- 
 ficent spectacle. 
 
 All the passengers are on the most familiar terms ; we 
 sing and tell stories together on deck, the ladies reclining 
 in easy and rocking chairs, the gentlemen in all kinds 
 of attitudes ; and there is great laughing and merriment
 
 i o DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A MERICA. 
 
 Miss Badger, who is very clever and interesting, goes in for 
 amusement in a business-like manner; she organizes concerts 
 for the saloon every evening, in which her friend, Miss 
 Bradbury and I are to be jthe 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 28^. 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 zqth. 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 VOYAGE FROM IRELAND. 11 
 
 manner of speaking. " Good morrow, Doctor," I begin. 
 " Good morrow, Father B.," he replies; "foggy weather, 
 this very." "I trust," said I, "there is no danger of a 
 collision." " Well," said he, in a tone and with an accent 
 impossible to put to paper, " if we meet any of them small 
 crafts, we'd be bully enough for 'em ! but if we meet our 
 match begor, that would be a horse of another colour." 
 
 Prayers are announced for 10*- in the saloon. The doctor 
 (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 $Qt/i. 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 $is/. One of the passengers teaches Miss 
 Badger and Miss Bradbury the " Bells of Shandon," to which 
 they have taken an extraordinary fancy. The ship stops for 
 the first time since we left Ireland to take soundings, for the 
 fog still continues. 
 
 There is great betting on the pilot-boat which will first 
 meet us ; there are 24 entries, and a pool of 6 is made at 
 53. per head. I invest. The fog clears off, and we anxiously 
 look for the pilot-boat. My number is Nine. At length the 
 boat is seen a long way ahead. The purser, through a glass, 
 discovers the number to be One. The Jew who overheard the 
 observation went to the saloon, and found out the gentleman 
 who had drawn number One. He offers him four pounds for 
 his chance ; the gentleman, a Spaniard, consents, and thus the 
 Jew, by a stratagem scarcely moral, makes two pounds profit. 
 The pilot comes aboard; he brings some American papers, 
 which are eagerly seized and read. We hear, for the first 
 time, of the frustrated Fenian raid on Canada, of the deaths 
 of Mark Lemon and Sir John Siemen. 
 
 We soon sight land Long Island on the right, and 
 by-and-by Long Branch on the left. Nearer and nearer 
 we approach to land ; we pass Sandy Hook, and about 
 seven p.m. are anchored in quarantine outside Staten Island. 
 The sea is soft and calm, and all is still around ; night
 
 THE VOYAGE FROM IRELAND. 13 
 
 falls balmy, and the lamps from the houses and streets are 
 reflected in the sleepy tide ; steamboats, with red and blue 
 lights, glide like visions above the quiet water. 
 
 Our voyage is at an end, but we must have one pleasant 
 night yet. Charley Strong, the doctor's son, for the first 
 time produces his violin, and there is dancing on deck which 
 is kept up to a late hour. We then have some songs, and the 
 effect on the Staten Islanders must need have been agree- 
 able. We retire to our berths, and feel sad that the 
 pleasures (modified by steam-whistle) of the last nine days 
 will soon be past for ever. 
 
 Wednesday, June \st. All up at 5 o'clock morning 
 lovely I converse with a man to whom I had not spoken 
 from the beginning of the voyage. I said we had a pleasant 
 passage, to which he assented. Our singing, I said, was 
 agreeable. "Yes," he replied, "but I'll tell you a curious 
 thing. It is astonishing how easily you amateurs amuse 
 people. Now, if I went about making free among the 
 passengers any night during the voyage I should have made 
 them laugh until they could laugh no more eitherthatorthey 
 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.
 
 1 4 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 All on deck at half-past six, and we scarcely recognise each 
 other in our various costumes, every one being dressed to meet 
 again the outer world. After breakfast we prepare to land. 
 There is a general handshaking, and many interchanges of 
 mutual remembrances are made. The captain seems quite 
 affected at our parting from him. We all hope to meet 
 each other again, though we know that we shall never 
 ALL meet till summoned together by the last trumpet. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ASHORE. 
 
 IT is past. Four of us enter a carriage belonging to the 
 Metropolitan Hotel into which our luggage also is stowed. 
 We proceed ; soon we find our carriage gets stopped 
 in a narrow passage ; we appear to be blocked up ; there 
 are carriages before and behind us ; at either side of us is 
 a wooden wall. There is a sound of a steam engine some- 
 where in the neighbourhood. Every moment we expect the 
 way to be cleared so that we may pass, but we remain 
 at a standstill. " Well," I exclaimed, "if this be what they 
 call American progress, it is the slowest I ever saw.' 
 " Oh ! " said my friend, " it is ridiculous. I will speak 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 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 are to go off with him to the races on Long Island. 
 We are curious to see American racing, and readily 
 comply. We reach Brooklyn, pass through Prospect Park 
 a young park yet, but one of great promise. The 
 " races " are very different from ours at home and rather 
 disappointing. There is to be sure a good course, and a 
 grand stand, and quite a number of carriages, and ladies and 
 gentlemen ; but the people are not here there is no crowd, 
 no excitement, no bustle or noise ; tents there are none ; the 
 thimble-rigger and trick-o'-loop man are nowhere to be found, 
 and even " Aunt Sally" is a non-est woman once in her life. 
 It is to be a trotting match ; no horseback business, but a lot 
 of men are mounted on what we call gigs at home gigs 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 yd. We commence business to-day, and 
 make 525 dols. We drive through the Central Park,
 
 ASHORE. 1 7 
 
 which is indeed magnificent, and which may fairly com- 
 pete with the " Bois de Boulogne," both in its park- 
 like splendour and in the gay and brilliant style of its 
 equipages, which roll through it in quick succession 
 and in multitudinous array all through the afternoon. 
 A splendid band played for the amusement of the people, 
 who listened with great attention, and displayed a praise- 
 worthy decorum as well in their costume as in their conduct. 
 
 We dined to day at Brooklyn. We had a very agreeable 
 evening, especially as almost all the guests, numbering about 
 twenty, were from the " beautiful city." Before dinner \ve 
 drove out to Greenwood Cemetery, which is the most beau- 
 tiful I have ever seen. Why do people speak so much of 
 Pere la Chaise ? Greenwood is a paradise. You enter by 
 a magnificent gate of brown stone, with carvings representing 
 appropriate passages from the Life of Christ. This gateway- 
 is of great magnitude as well as of beauty. The grounds, 
 which form a very large area, are undulating, with lovely 
 sloping lawns, hedges, and borders, and paths running along 
 in every direction. Trees abound, especially willows ; and 
 there are some charming lakes, into which those willows 
 droop. The paths and avenues have romantic names such 
 as Violet Path, Vision Path, Fountain Hill, Amaranth 
 Glade, Rose-dew Bower, &c., &c. The tombs and monuments 
 charm by their splendour and variety ; some are of enormous 
 magnitude. On the whole, it is impossible to conceive a 
 cemetery more beautiful. 
 
 In the evening we went to hear the Rev. Henry Ward 
 Beecher in his tabernacle. The building was filled, and 
 it was curious to observe the number of means employed to 
 temper the excessive heat. The preacher stood without 
 
 c
 
 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 
 with what the newspapers call the "gay votaries of Terpsi- 
 chore," amongst whom our host himself was conspicuous on 
 the " light fantastic " with the ever radiant smile in a word, 
 we find ourselves at a grand ball where some two hundred 
 persons were present, and I confess with my grave attire I 
 felt I was out of place, so I resolved to keep as much as 
 possible among the gentlemen. 
 
 After the set of quadrilles was finished we turned towards 
 our host, who stood on the hearthrug as on a conspicuous place 
 where he might give audience to the guests who had recently 
 arrived. He appeared charmed to meet us and led us away, in- 
 troducing us to every one as he passed. I must say every one
 
 ASP1ORE. 19 
 
 was kind and affable, and unaffected; gentlemen seemed 
 anxious to converse with us, and several young ladies did us 
 the honour of soliciting for an introduction. There was little, if 
 indeed anything, to distinguish the whole scene from a gather- 
 ing in an Irish home. To me, who am unaccustomed to circles 
 of fashion, it certainly did appear that the ladies were very 
 extravagantly dressed, and painted, powdered, and dyed, but 
 I dare say the same custom prevails with us. It is to me 
 simply abominable, and J 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
 
 2 o DIAR Y OF A TO UR 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 surgeon 
 in America," I add. "Nonsense," said the gentleman I 
 questioned. 
 
 The public institutions of New York are mostly built 
 on islands situated in the Bay. Of these islands the 
 largest is called Blackwell's Island, and to-day, in company 
 with some friends, we proceed thither by steamer. The 
 day is fearfully hot on this island, which is two miles long. 
 There are four admirably conducted Institutions viz., a 
 charity alms house, corresponding with our notion of a 
 workhouse, a penitentiary for criminals, a lunatic asylum, and. 
 an hospital of incurables. We pass through them all and 
 are much pleased by their condition. In the penitentiary we 
 meet the chaplain, an Italian priest named Gelasis, who re- 
 ceives us very kindly and conducts us through the whole island. 
 
 The penitentiary, which is a prison, is a very long 
 building, consisting of an immense corridor with cells at 
 either side, and around all is a gallery with other cells opening 
 off it. He takes us into the Horror Ward for females ; 
 here are two females in delirium trcmens ; he tells one that 
 she is getting better, but she does not understand him, for 
 she is a German. I tell her the same in her own language, 
 and she smiles and says " Ya." Here is the lunatic asylum, 
 the women's side what a Bedlam ! They are all in a large 
 yard with the hot sun raging down on them. They all flock 
 about us, each preferring some complaint against somebody 
 and trying to cry each other down in vociferousness. Such 
 becomes their violence that we begin to get afraid, but the 
 keepers assures us there is no danger.
 
 ASHORE. 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. We signified our desire, and he sang a plain- 
 tive ditty, in which there was mention of flowers, and rivers, 
 and sunshine, and happy days gone by. A tear stole to my 
 eye, and I could not restrain it. He sang beautifully and 
 with fresh pathos as if he felt the full charm of the sentiment. 
 When he had finished he said, flourishing his arms and 
 smiling, " Now what do you say to something operatic ? " 
 'We said, "Very good," and he said, "Well, then, here I am, 
 Don 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 through the Park this evening I see fire- 
 flies for the first time ; the Park is almost on fire with them; 
 they present the appearance of innumerable small stars 
 twinkling for a second, and suddenly becoming extinguished, 
 just a few feet over the earth. The effect is novel and delight- 
 ful. The moon is up and develops the beauties of the Park. 
 It is indeed a magnificent drive, and justifies the praises 
 of the New Yorkers. 
 
 I learn that Mr. Eugene Shine has arrived, and is 
 staying at the Nicholas Hotel, Broadway. Mr. Shine 
 is a Cork gentleman who realized a large fortune 
 in America, and purchased an estate near Killarney, 
 where he resides. He left Ireland last January for 
 St. Louis, and has now arrived from the latter place en 
 route for home. He is a great friend of mine, and I am 
 delighted at all times to meet friends, but especially now in, 
 a strange land. I visit Mr. Shine at the hotel, and he 
 seems very glad to see me. We go across to Brooklyn to 
 see a mutual friend, with whom we spend the whole of the 
 evening.
 
 ASHORE. 23 
 
 To-day we pay a round of visits ; they are all out. We 
 find Mrs. Sadlier in, to whom I had a letter of introduction 
 from Mr. John Francis Maguire, M.P. She has obtained 
 fame as a writer of fiction a nice, good lady, kind and 
 gentle. This afternoon, accompanied by my young friend 
 Mr. Attridge, I go to Manhattanville, some ten miles from 
 the centre of the city, to visit Madame Gallwey at the 
 Convent of Sacre Cceur, a splendid convent and grounds 
 more like a baronial castle than a convent. Madame 
 Gallwey is a sister of Mrs. Thomas Waters, of Cork, but 
 the sisters parted and have never met since they were 
 children. The nun appears ; she is a fine old lady gay and 
 lively in her manners. The convent contains a large number 
 of Sisters, and they chiefly devote themselves to the educa- 
 tion of young ladiee, 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 3 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
 
 2 4 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 Galhvey during the 
 Benediction, for it was within the Octave of Corpus Christi. 
 There were all the Sisters and the three hundred young 
 ladies, the latter dressed in white and with white veils. The 
 chapel was a very pretty one, and the whole spectacle charm- 
 ing. After the devotion the Sisters had supper prepared for 
 us. I was introduced to Madame White, a niece of the 
 celebrated Gerald Griffin an elderly lady and a person of 
 elegant manners and appearance. I remarked that her 
 hatred to England was intense, and she used very forcible 
 expressions, which I now forget, expressive of her antipathy. 
 We walked out and surveyed the grounds, which were very 
 pretty. 1 went with a young friend to Elizabeth, a village in 
 New Jersey, about fifteen miles from New York, to see a 
 woman whose daughter in Cork wished me to call on her. 
 Elizabeth is an extremely pretty village, and well worthy of 
 a visit. This afternoon, in New York, and at other times, I 
 was amused by people coming up to me in the streets and 
 asking me was I Father Buckley, of Cork. 
 
 Sunday, June \()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 Killarney together, and elsewhere ; he is now dead 
 and buried, and I stand over his grave in Long Island. This 
 cemetery cannot be compared to Greenwood in any way what- 
 soever. One characteristic it had for me, and that was 
 that almost every tombstone bore an Irish name. 
 
 We drive to Flatbush. Here I call on Father Paul Ahearn, a 
 Cork priest, who receives us with great kindness. We go on to 
 Coney Island, and see crowds of people of both sexes bath- 
 ing ; their costumes are neither elegant or graceful, but 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, June 2o///. 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 
 room, where there was quite a number of gentlemen. I had 
 never seen Mr. O'Connor, but, having once seen his photo- 
 graph, I was able to single him out from the rest. He was 
 a tall, thin, straight old gentleman, with grey hair and white
 
 26 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 whiskers, and beard cut very short gentlemanly in appear- 
 ance, with bright eyes and very good teeth. He welcomed 
 me, and introduced me to the other gentlemen, who were all 
 very distinguished citizens of New York, fifteen in number 
 (there were three judges). 
 
 At 7 dinner was announced. We proceeded to the 
 next apartment, and there took our places. Every 
 gentleman had his place at table indicated by a very 
 ornamental card, with his name inscribed, and each one 
 had, besides, a very pretty bill of fare, got up specially 
 for the occasion. Indeed I may say that the banquet 
 for the repast wanted nothing to deserve the title 
 was quite worthy of Delmonico's celebrated name. I, of 
 course, had the post of honour next the host. At my right 
 hand was Judge Daly, a very scholarly man, and at the 
 other side of my host was Father Hecker, perhaps the most 
 distinguished ecclesiastic in New York. Everything was 
 superb, from the egg to the apple ; it appeared to me 
 to be a paragon of dinners. 
 
 I found that Mr. O'Connor is great-grandson of a 
 very distinguished namesake of his, Charles O'Connor, 
 of Balangar, who lived in the last century, and was one of a 
 prominent trio, including Mr. Curry and Mr. Wyse, who 
 were mainly instrumental in forming what was known as the 
 " Catholic Association," which had a great deal to do in pro- 
 curing a remission of the Penal Laws. Judge Daly also is 
 the great-grandson of Denis Daly, a very remarkable name 
 in the old Irish Parliament. I thought it strange that I 
 should be just then sitting between the great-grandsons of 
 two men of whom I had so often read with pleasure and 
 admiration. I regret that my memory is so bad ; otherwise
 
 ASHORE. 2^ 
 
 I should be able to record some good things that were said 
 this evening. 
 
 Thursday, June 2$rd. We drive to Wall-street by ap- 
 pointment to meet Mr. Eugene O'Sullivan. He has been 
 many years in America, and has amassed a large fortune. 
 He gave us 250 dols., and invited us to spend the evening 
 at Long Branch, a fashionable watering-place, some thirty 
 miles from the city. \Ve took, with him, the steamer from 
 some wharf not far from Broadway, and proceeded on our 
 way. The steamer is one of the so-called " floating palaces. 1 * 
 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'Sullivan introduced us to the pastor of Long 
 Branch, a Frenchman. He accepted an invitation to 
 come and dine with us. We landed not far from Sandy 
 Hook, and took the train, which brought us in half-an- 
 hour to our destination. Mr. O'Sullivan's house was 
 not far from the station a large frame-house, with piazzas 
 on every floor, and not a quarter of a mile from the sea 
 shore. The Atlantic stretched away before us, with many 
 ships and steamers and fishing-boats dotting its surface. We 
 were introduced to Mrs. O'Sullivan, a fine handsome lady. 
 
 The season has not yet commenced in Long Branch, but 
 when it does it is very gay ; it is one of the most fashion- 
 able watering-places in America. A great number of hotels 
 are here, all frame buildings. We go to see th^m after
 
 2 8 DIAR V 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. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 NIAGARA. 
 
 Saturday, June 2$th. 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 
 AVC were naturally curious to see it. We left by carriage for 
 the wharf, whence the steamer was to start ; but what with 
 the bad streets and the great traffic, the horses did little 
 more than crawl, so we lost the steamer by ten minutes. 
 This annoyed us exceedingly, but we had to bear it with 
 patience. We drove to the Railway Terminus a consider- 
 able distance and took our tickets for the train which 
 would start at half-past ten, so that we had only an hour and 
 a-half to wait. The time we beguiled as best we could, and 
 that was difficult enough.
 
 NIAGARA. 29, 
 
 At length the bell rings, and we proceed to the 
 train. Now, I wish to mention here that in American 
 railway trains there is no distinction of classes the 
 country is democratic and all the people travel on the 
 same footing. A ticket-holder can walk from one end of 
 the train to the other and please himself with a seat. The 
 seats are all upholstered sumptuously, fit for the great as well 
 as the humble. We step into one carriage it is full so 
 we pass into another. This has plenty of room, and is got 
 up far more luxuriously than the one we left. The walls 
 are decorated beautifully; there are not seats, but arm- 
 chairs and lounges, all upholstered in scarlet velvet; a 
 magnificent carpet under foot, and tables, on which the 
 travellers may place their books or papers, while at the 
 foot of the carriage is a large and gorgeously ornamented 
 fountain, containing ice-water, of which, in American trains 
 during hot weather, there is a large consumption. This 
 I thought, is very fine, and the Americans after all are a 
 great people ; they study comfort in everything, and 
 they are right. What a grand thing this equality is in a 
 State : any man, no matter what his rank, has only to pay 
 his six dollars and enjoy this splendid room, and travel his 
 145 miles in four hours and a-half, express. Yes ; I regret 
 having thought anything hard of America. I see things 
 improve and my views, no doubt will change. " Tickets ! " 
 shouts the conductor, entering our carriage, as soon as the 
 train had moved off. I show mine. " Another dollar," 
 he says. " What ! " I cried, " another dollar ? for what ? " 
 "This," said he, "is a drau'ingroom car /" No\v, what a 
 drawingroom car was I had no notion, but I clearly saw that, 
 let Americans say what they will, there is a distinction of
 
 30 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 classes in their trains, so they need not brag so much 
 of their Equality. A parlour car would have suited me just 
 as well, but of course I kept my position, paid my dollar, 
 and sought refuge for my vexed spirit in the pages of 
 " Lothair." 
 
 A great nuisance in those trains is caused by boys 
 passing through and flinging a book, or a bottle of perfume, 
 or some other article into your lap, and passing down 
 the length of the train, doing the same to everyone else. 
 You are supposed to look over the book, or perfume, or 
 whatever it is, and make up your mind to buy it or not. 
 The boy returns, and should you buy, he takes your money, 
 and should you not buy, he takes his wares. I never saw 
 anyone buy. This is repeated very often, and, to a stranger, 
 is rather startling, especially if he is rapt in thought, or 
 buried in a book. 
 
 Albany is a pretty city, with the Hudson running 
 through and one side rather elevated. The streets 
 good, with trees in many places on both sides ; remark- 
 ably quiet after New York ; clean, with good pavements ; 
 neatness and elegance. This is the capital, and here the 
 Senate, for the State of New York, holds its sittings. 
 We found the thermometer at 105 in the shade. Stopped at 
 the Delavan House a branch of the Metropolitan in New 
 York and conducted the same way. Called on Father 
 Wadhaues, V.G., a kind and gentlemanly man, He asked 
 us to dine to-morrow. We agreed. Called on a few other 
 persons to whom I had letters. 
 
 Sunday, June 26th. Dined with Father Wadhaues ; in the 
 evening called on a Captain O'Neill, from Cork, of the Police
 
 NIAGARA. 31 
 
 He was not in and I left word to have him call at our hotel. 
 He called at 10 o'clock, a fine young man. He said he was 
 to be married next Wednesday, and would have us to go see 
 his future wife. We went and saw the young lady at the 
 house of her father ; there was a small festive gathering and 
 the Captain seemed to speed very well in his wooing. 
 
 Monday, June 2 7th. Leave Albany 7.45 a.m. for Niagara, 
 316 miles by rail. A lovely day, and splendid country, hill, 
 valley, river, woodland, smiling plains, in many places the 
 primeval forest, in many the stumps only of felled trees, not 
 yet grubbed out, marking where the forest had been. Several 
 cities of modern growth, but of ancient name, on our way 
 Troy and Rome, Utica, Syracuse, and Palmyra. 
 
 Three of our fellow-travellers were remarkable two men 
 anda young woman dressed as if of middle rank in life. They 
 spoke German; one man of coarse and rugged features, such as 
 a novelist might take for his villain. When the train stopped 
 at Syracuse the police entered and arrested the trio, who 
 offered no resistance, and were marched off immediately. A 
 telegram from Albany or elsewhere had notified that the 
 criminals were en route for Syracuse. I could not learn 
 what was the charge against them. 
 
 We did not reach Niagara until 9.45 at night, fourteen hours 
 of railway travelling. We arrived in the midst of fearful thunder, 
 lightning, and rain ; put up at the Monteagle House, some 
 two miles and a-half from the Falls ; heard the roar of the 
 falling water through my open window all night like like 
 what? like the snoring of an Icthyosaurus ! ! 
 
 Tuesday, June 2 8///. Had expected to find on thehotelbook
 
 3- 
 
 DIARY OF A TOUR 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 programme, and we had said it was just possible 
 we might meet them here. I passed away the time in the 
 billiard room, playing with myself but left the door half open, 
 so that I might command a view of any one coming down 
 stairs. After about a quarter of an hour Mr. Smyth appears; 
 when he sees me his astonishment is intense, he falls back 
 as if it were my fetch. He soon understands the whole 
 thing. He promises not to tell any one. So when they come 
 down by-and-by and see us, their surprise and pleasure are 
 boundless. 
 
 We spend a very pleasant and quiet evening together; 
 there is some good playing in the drawingroom, a piano 
 and a small band of hired musicians. The thunderstorm of 
 the previous evening is repeated and the effect is marvel- 
 lously grand. We go out on the piazza to admire it ; the whole 
 air is lit up every few seconds by a vivid light; the trees and 
 fields start into view, and their green colour is quite percep- 
 tible. The graceful lineaments of the suspension bridge 
 shine out and we see dimly, even at the distance of a fe\v 
 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 zqth. 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 
 
 O 
 
 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 \vhich 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 
 
 D
 
 34 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 the Falls. The American Falls rash into the river at a perpen- 
 dicular height of 1 80 feet, and at the side of the river, the 
 Horse Shoe, a little above, so called from the shape of the 
 river's bed at the point of descent, they come with such 
 force as to make a curve, which they retain until they strike 
 the rocks below. Thus it is possible for persons to descend 
 and stand under the curve of the falling water without getting 
 wet, and it is done every day. Millions of tons of water fall 
 here every day, and so great is the spray caused by concus- 
 sion with the rocks below that it rises in white clouds to a 
 great height over the point of descent, and falls like rain 
 even on the land adjacent. The river for miles below the 
 Falls is streaked with white, like the sweat on the flanks of 
 a courser after a hard race. Yes, the Niagara Falls are the 
 essence of the sublime. There is something awful in the 
 thought that those waters have been flowing thus through the 
 long centuries that have passed since Nature's last upheav- 
 ing. While thrones and dynasties have risen and fallen, 
 while nations have passed from the impotence of infancy to 
 the vigour of mature existence, and thence downward to the 
 imbecility of decay and decrepitude, the Niagara Falls have 
 fallen with the same monotonous thunder-sound unchanged 
 by the will of the Deity, defiant of the arts of man, playing for 
 ever the same majestic tune falling for centuries unseen by 
 human eye, discovered at last by some red man, Iroquois or 
 Huron, perhaps, on the war-path, who called it in his native 
 tongue " Niagara," or " the Thunder of Waters" come upon 
 some few centuries ago by the first white man, a French 
 Jesuit missionary, who spread their fame through the old 
 Continent, whence millions since come to visit them but 
 falling, falling, falling, still the same, groaning in the same
 
 NIAGARA. 35 
 
 sad conflict with the hard rocks below, and emerging weary 
 and slow from the mysterious battle-ground, where reigns 
 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
 
 3 6 DIAR Y 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 ; 
 bu.t we made it very clear that we should pack up 
 and go to an hotel where we could get dinner, and 
 then they prepared something. After dinner we walked to 
 the second suspension bridge the railway one. We meet 
 a huge waggon filled with trunks, and then a huge waggonette 
 filled with boys singing. These are a contingent of lads from 
 the College going home after their " Commencement." We 
 pass through the foot-passengers' bridge; the railway is over- 
 head. The view along the passage is very beautiful 800 
 feet long, 196 high ; the river below, and the Falls beyond. 
 We continue our walk along the other bank of the river the
 
 THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 37 
 
 banks are awfully high and precipitous and nicely wooded 
 the whole scenery very pretty. 
 
 This evening, while cooling ourselves sitting on the 
 piazza, the lightning and thunder and rain of the 
 previous evening are repeated, and on a grander scale. 
 An old lady sits with us ; she is very old, and her 
 hair is milk white ; she says that she is 87 years old ; that 
 she is Welsh, and came to New York in the year 1801 ! 
 Her reminiscences of that city are strange in fact, it must 
 have been little more than a thriving town then. What a 
 change ! But the old lady happens to be a Protestant, and 
 cannot conceal her bigotry, which takes almost U form of 
 hatred towards me. She speaks very insultingly of the 
 Catholic ceremonies of religion of priests, with their " bibs 
 and tuckers," and assures Mr. Smyth that I am secretly 
 plotting his conversion to the errors of the Romish Church. 
 As she is so old, we listen in silence, and when she has 
 finished we quietly disperse. She then discovers her mis- 
 take, and tries to explain it by pleading " garrulity " of old 
 age ; but it is too late, and we avoid her for the rest of 
 the eveninsr. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 
 
 Thursday, June $oth. 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,
 
 3 8 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 
 clanger, prolongs the fear and suspense. I should not like 
 to travel the same line again, and I fear very much some 
 fine day it will come to grief. Arrived at Lewiston, the river, 
 we find, is very broad. Nearly opposite is a village called 
 Queenstown, and on the heights behind is a very splendid
 
 THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 39 
 
 monument to General Brock a general who, in some battle 
 of which I am entirely ignorant, was killed on the spot. 
 Happy thought ! read up about General Brock ! 
 
 We take a steamer which bears us away down the river. 
 Here the banks are high and well wooded, and the spectacle 
 is very beautiful. Suddenly the river widens, and becomes an 
 immense lake (Ontario) an inland sea. We lose sight of 
 land altogether in front, and, after an hour, on every side. It 
 would require no stretch of imagination to conceive that you 
 were on the Atlantic. About half-past one o'clock we reach 
 the city of Toronto, which is built on the lake. The view of 
 the city from the water is very pretty. My friend, Father 
 Flannery, had been stationed for some years in Toronto, 
 but is now in Amhestberg, some .300 miles to the west. I 
 wish we could see him, but that, I fear, is impossible. 
 
 At Toronto we change steamers. The one we embark on is 
 larger and more beautiful than the one from Lewiston ; it is 
 not quite a "floating palace;" but to me it is quite palatial 
 in its style. We dine under the British Flag, and there is 
 a remarkable improvement in the diet. John Bull feeds 
 well. The weather is -very warm. I take up a copy of the 
 New York Herald, and the heat of the great city is described 
 in curious headings. For example "Melting Weather in 
 New York Mercurial Antics among the Nineties." 
 
 Apropos of the New York Herald, its flippant way of 
 telling terrible things attracts my observation. Thus in this 
 very number I find : " Yesterday John Barry met Thomas 
 Carter in Thirtieth-street, and said he was going to drown 
 himself. He kept his word." Again : " In Delaware- 
 street, near the Ferry, lies a defunct equine" nothing terrible 
 about this, however, except the vulgarity of the style. And
 
 40 DJAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 again:" In Fiftieth-street, yesterday, a man shot a canine 
 which had bitten a boy named White." 
 
 Lake Ontario, still an inland sea. We are several 
 miles out when we discover a butterfly accompanying 
 us ; he keeps always about the head of the vessel, 
 and flies with it as if for a wager sometimes he 
 approaches the water so nearly that we are sure he is lost, 
 but he invariably turns up fresh and vigorous cuts a few 
 gratuitous capers in the air, and then continues his steady 
 course. This continued for more than an hour, and every 
 one was surprised to find so small a creature as a butterfly 
 pursuing so long a journey, and at so great a rate of speed. 
 We all knew and felt with a pang of pity that drowning was 
 his inevitable doom, but there was no help for it. 
 
 Here we had a striking illustration of the viscissitudes 
 of weather in these parts. A dark cloud sprang up 
 before us huge and dense every moment it thundered 
 and grew blacker and more terrible. Behind us were 
 sunshine and summer ; before us the blackness and horror 
 of winter. Suddenly a flash of forked lightning ran 
 along the whole length of the frowning mass, and 
 now we saw the rain steadily approaching us; the "big 
 drops fell heavy one by one " on the deck. All rushed 
 into the saloon, and in a twinkling we stood in the midst of 
 blackness, cloud, lightning and rain, while the thunder pealed 
 over our heads with all the veritable ring of Heaven's own 
 artillery. I stood at the door of the saloon with some other 
 gentlemen to view the wild scene, and to admire its grandeur 
 to the full. We were protected over head by a canopy. A 
 young man of respectable appearance emerges from the 
 saloon and accosts me, " I beg your pardon, sir," he said,
 
 THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 41 
 
 " but may I take the liberty of asking whether you are a 
 Catholic priest." I assured him that I was. " Well sir," 
 he said, and there was a tone in his voice indicating shyness 
 and fear, " I may tell you that I have just been married only 
 two days. My wife and I are on our honeymoon. She is 
 sitting on a sofa in the saloon, and is horribly afraid of 
 lightning. Would you kindly come and sit by her ? It may 
 give her courage. She told me to ask you. We are both 
 Catholics, and love the priesthood." I of course assented, 
 though by no means proof myself against the fear of lightning. 
 I found the lady to be very young and very charming; and 
 by all the arts I could employ, I had not much difficulty in 
 dissipating her fears. The gentleman's name was Meagher, 
 from Albany. 
 
 Montreal is over 300 miles from Toronto, so we shall have 
 to sleep on board to-night, and all the while we shall be 
 ploughing the deep waters of Lake Ontario. 
 
 July \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 St. Lawrence. I dress and go out in front, but 
 the weather is bitterly cold. To me, who had been so long 
 the victim of heat, a cool sensation is delightful, but this is 
 not cool but cold. I am forced to seek out my portmanteau 
 and take a big coat, whose acquaintance I had not made 
 for weeks, and don it, and even then it is cool enough. All 
 my friends feel as cold as I do ; the ladies are obliged to put
 
 42 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 on heavy shawls, and the gentlemen feel a strong inclination 
 not only to walk but to tramp along the deck. 
 
 The river St. Lawrence with its thousand islands is a broad 
 and in some places very broad river the islands which I be- 
 lieve number not only a thousand, but eighteen hundred, are 
 of all shapes and sizes, from the uninhabited and cultivated one 
 of a thousand acres, to the one whose nose only peeps above 
 the water ; on some grows nought but the primeval forest, 
 and lives nought but the wild cat, and the wild cat's prey ; 
 on others a solitary tree nods at us as we pass. Another 
 peculiarity of this great river are its " rapids," which are 
 numerous ; that is. a sudden change of water from glassy 
 smoothness to a wild conflict of waves, rushing against each 
 other in eternal noise and confusion, such as I have already 
 described when telling of Niagara. In one place called 
 Lachine these rapids are considered dangerous, for the 
 vessel has to pass at the rate of thirty miles an hour through 
 two sharp projecting rocks, placed at a distance not much 
 wider than the vessel itself. The greatest care is necessary 
 on the part of the captain and helmsmen, who number four 
 ior this purpose to prevent a catastrophe. We reach the 
 first of the rapids, and descend at a headlong pace, and at 
 a considerable incline ; it is pleasant and exciting. We are 
 again in smooth water, wending our way through the lone 
 and wooded islands, with an occasional village on either 
 bank, and the church spire for the most part covered with 
 tin, glittering perhaps too vividly in the sun ; and now we 
 meet parties of pleasure, boating and seeking some good spot 
 for a picnic, and waving their handkerchiefs at us as we pass. 
 It is a festive day in Canada " Dominion Day," the third 
 anniversary of the declaration of Canadian Independence.
 
 THE BRI11SH 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 Lave light enough we 
 may reach our destination about half-past 9 o'clock. 
 
 Here is a lady with a very smiling face going amongst the 
 passengers collecting money for those who suffered by the 
 fire at the Saguenay below Quebec ; she reaches us in due 
 time, and is very gracious and winning in her manners ; she 
 rejoices in the high-sounding title of Madame Morel de la 
 Durayutaye ; she is French Canadian, and scarcely speaks 
 English. I sympathise with her as a fellow beggar, we 
 all subscribe, and she never ceases in her importunities 
 until she has succeeded in her demands on board, from the 
 captain to the fireman. When she has done, she attaches 
 herself to our party, and plies her French and her smiles 
 with increasing assiduity. 
 
 The sun is now red in the heavens, and as may well be sup- 
 posed the spectacle is lovely ; the smooth broad surface of the 
 water, the balmy air, the wooded islands, the pretty villages on
 
 4 \ D1AR 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 TO o'clock are seated at supper in the saloon of the first 
 hotel in the City, the St. Laurence Hall. 
 
 July 2nd, 1870. Our stay in Montreal extended to three 
 weeks, and as the work of many days was of the same de-
 
 THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 45 
 
 scription, I gave up keeping a diary. I shall then sum up 
 all that happened to us while in this city without particular- 
 izing the dates of the events. Our friends remained with us 
 for three days, and we had a good deal of dining about. 
 We visited several of the churches, of which there is an 
 abundance in Montreal. Brooklyn is called the " City of 
 Churches," but it appears to me that, for its size, there are 
 more in Montreal. I have observed four churches, each of 
 a different religion, within a few acres of ground ; and there 
 is one place where two streets cross each other, and at three 
 corners out of the four there are churches. It appears 
 the people here are very church-going, and on Sunday it 
 was easy to observe that this was true, for the streets were 
 utterly deserted up to two o'clock in the afternoon. The 
 largest church is what is known as the " French Church," in 
 Notre Dame Street, a fine building with two high towers, and 
 immense bells ; a pretty green square railed round stands in 
 front of it. St. Patrick's Church, where the Irish most do 
 congregate, is a splendid Gothic structure, quite finished, and 
 well situated. The spire, however, is too small in proportion 
 to the tower, and does not look well, being covered with tin 
 instead of slate ; and here I may remark that tin roofing is 
 very general in Canada. It keeps the colour well and is 
 lasting. I fancy this must have been an idea of the English 
 commercial mind, as there are in England large tin mines, 
 and it was deemed advisable to ship it in large quantities to 
 some colony where the people were previously persuaded 
 that it was useful for roofing. 
 
 We visit the convent of Villa Maria in the country, 
 a few miles outside the city. This is a very fine convent, 
 where, as at Manhattanville, young ladies are educated as
 
 46 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 boarders. It was here Mrs. Smythe received her education, 
 and she was anxious to visit the old scenes after nine years' 
 absence. Few of the sisters were able to recognise in the 
 very stout Mrs. Smythe the active Irene Tomkins of nine 
 years ago. The house is a magnificent one, and is called 
 Monklands. 
 
 The drives around Montreal are very beautiful. The 
 mountain is wooded to the top, and here and there, as 
 you pass, splendid mansions, all of cut stone, and many 
 of elegant design, peep out from the foliage, or stand 
 in bold relief with the mountain for a background. In 
 no place have I seen finer suburban residences. To 
 drive "around the mountain" is considered indispen- 
 sable for all tourists, and we conformed to the local 
 obligation. The streets of Montreal are very fine, the West 
 end (and by the way, how is it that the West end is always 
 the most fashionable part of cities ?) is very elegant. The 
 great thing to be admired is the solidity of the buildings, and 
 next, their great beauty of design. Almost all are of cut 
 stone, and the Grecian style of architecture seems to be the 
 favourite. The Bank of Montreal, the Courthouse, the 
 Bonsecours Market, and the Hotel Dieu buildings which I 
 just put down at random are worthy of any city in the 
 world. The population of Montreal is over 30,000 
 of whom 24,000 are Irish Catholics.* I was surprised to find 
 that with so large a Catholic population, there is not a single 
 Catholic daily paper. There is a Catholic weekly called 
 the True Witnsss, to distinguish it, I daresay, from a very 
 
 Montreal has now over 142,000 inhabitants, with about 28,000 
 Irish Catholics. The True Witness still exists, and besides various 
 French Papers, is still the only representative of Catholic journalism 
 there. New York has still no Catholic daily paper. ED.
 
 THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 47 
 
 Protestant daily called simply the Witness. But my 
 surprise was lessened when I was reminded that even in New- 
 York, with a population of half-a-million Catholics, there is 
 not a Catholic daily paper. The reasons of this are, that the 
 leading papers have no special religious platform ; and that 
 the people are too intent on commerce to think about read- 
 ing religious papers. 
 
 The young bride and bridegroom who were so appre- 
 hensive of the effects of lightning are stopping at our 
 hotel. I have introduced them to our friends, and we 
 form one party. On Sunday evening at their invitation I 
 spend an hour in their room. Our friends left on the evening 
 of Monday, the 4th, for Quebec, by steamer. We were all 
 very sorry at the parting, one of the ladies shed tears, and 
 there was great waving of handkerchiefs on both sides as 
 the vessel rode away. 
 
 On Tuesday morning we thought it time to com- 
 mence business. Accordingly we called on a Mr. N. S. 
 Whitney, a gentleman who had impressed us favourably. We 
 found him all that could be desired, though not a Roman 
 Catholic. No co-religionist of ours could have taken us 
 up more warmly. He regretted that as his wife and family 
 were in the country, some 50 miles away, he could not ask 
 us to his house ; but he volunteered to come and introduce 
 us to the Vicar-General, with whom he was very well ac- 
 quainted. We accepted the offer. He introduced us, and 
 we received a very cordial reception. The Vicar-General, 
 in the absence of the Bishop, who is in Rome, accorded 
 us every privilege in his power to bestow, on condition, 
 however, that we should receive the sanction of Father 
 Dowd, the pastor of St Patrick's, and the chief of the Irish
 
 48 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 clergy in Montreal. We called on Father Dowd, who was 
 even more gracious than the Vicar-General. He insisted 
 on our leaving our hotel, and coming to live with him, as 
 long as we remained in Montreal. I must here mention 
 that all of the priests in Montreal are " Sulpicians," that 
 is to say, clergy of the order of St. Sulpice, whose chief 
 house is in Paris ; that they are established here since the 
 foundation of the colony, and are owners in fee of almost 
 all the property of the city. The clergy attached to each 
 church live in community, and practice in a very special 
 manner the virtue of hospitality to all their brethren in the 
 ministry. We accordingly remove our baggage from one 
 hotel and take up our quarters with Father Dowd, whom we 
 find to be the type of all that is excellent in a priest. The 
 other clergy in the house were French Canadian by birth, 
 viz. : Fathers Toupin, Le Claire, and Singer the latter of 
 German descent, but speaking the French language from 
 childhood. The rules of the house are new to us. They 
 rise at 4^-, breakfast ad libitum, dine at n-J- A.M., and sup 
 at seven. Night prayer at 8], and after that bed. I agree 
 to conform in all, save the e^rly rising, but I learn that I am 
 not bound to observe any part of the rule ; but that I am 
 perfectly free to act as I please ; I do conform, however, 
 through respect for the rule. 
 
 There is another parish where the Irish abound 
 the parish of St. Anne's. A fine type of a Tipperary 
 man, named Father Hogan is pastor he is apprised of our 
 arrival and our mission. Father Egan bespeaks his kind- 
 ness in our favour. He holds a conference with Father 
 Dowd on the subject, and they agree to permit us to preach 
 next Sunday, and to announce that he would preach the
 
 THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 49 
 
 Sunday after, and take up a collection in the two churches 
 after the sermon. Now there is a third Irish parish, called 
 St. Brigid's, of which the pastor is a Frenchman named 
 Campion, a clergyman of strong Hibernian sympathies, and 
 we manage that as follows : There is in that parish a man 
 named Mr. Donovan, who I was told by one of the Hegarty 
 Brothers, tanners, Cork, was apprenticed to them some five 
 and twenty years ago, and who has now made a fortune by 
 the same business in Montreal. We go to visit him ; he 
 proves to be an excellent man, and places himself unreserv- 
 edly at our disposal. He takes us to the house of Father 
 Campion, to whom he introduces us. Mr. Donovan is the 
 most important man in Father Campion's congregation. He 
 is a teetotaler, and is President of a Temperance Associa- 
 tion of men, numbering 200. Mr. Maguire, in his " Irish 
 in America," makes special allusion to Mr. Donovan, as 
 an illustration of what a young Irish emigrant may do in 
 America who brings nothing with him but a Christian 
 Brothers' School education, honesty, industry, and general 
 good conduct. We found in Mr. Donovan a true and stead- 
 fast friend, who spared no exertion to promote the object we 
 had in view, and in which he, as a Corkman, took a special 
 interest. Father Campion, on Mr. Donovan's recommenda- 
 tion, permits me to preach on Sunday evening in his church, 
 and to make a collection immediately after. 
 
 Accordingly on Sunday, in St. Patrick's, at High Mass, 
 Father Dowd announces that I am to preach, and to solicit aid 
 towards the erection of a Cathedral in Cork. I appear the 
 moment he descends and preach. It would appear that my 
 sermon gave great satisfaction, for I receive many congratula- 
 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 every- 
 where received. When I was introduced into a house the 
 people were not embarrassed or displeased, but welcomed 
 me heartily, were glad to see me, had hoped I would call, 
 for they had heard of the object of my mission, regretted 
 they had not more to give, but gave their little cheerfully. 
 I was taken a little into the country to two holders, farmers 
 named King. A tall labourer saw me enter, and overheard 
 what I wanted. He waited till we came out, and stood at a 
 considerable distance from the house. As I was passing, 
 he called me and slipped half-a-dollar into my hand, regret- 
 ting he could not give more. I was astonished at the 
 generosity of the man, whom I would not think of soliciting. 
 He was Irish, of course, and only one year from " the old 
 country." During the week we collected a good 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 sympathies of mankind a land that has 
 suffered in the great and noble cause of religion. The 
 imagination of the young heightens the colours of the 
 picture and awakes all the fire of patriotic passion. 
 Attached to St. Patrick's Church is St. Patrick's Orphanage. 
 The boys have a band, and they play no airs but Irish. My 
 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 have 
 been assured of this passion of the Irish whether Irish by 
 birth or by descent this ardent love of their native land. 
 No doubt something will come of it some day. I am
 
 52 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 aware that in many parts of America there are persons who 
 studiously conceal that they are Irish who don't think it 
 respectable ; but they are recreants, and of no 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 their visit the follow- 
 ing day. They proved to be the greatest friends we had 
 encountered yet. Both are from Kanturk, in the County 
 of Cork. They came 1 8 years ago, and are now indepen- 
 dent. They have each a large grocery store ; were un- 
 married, and had two sisters, each sister living with a brother. 
 They are ardently attached to each other, and are Irish in 
 every respect. During our stay in Montreal these people 
 did for us, unsolicited, all that they could have done for 
 their nearest relation, their dearest friends. They took us 
 around amongst their friends, and got us a deal of money. 
 They would have us to dinner and supper. They drove us 
 out in a magnificent carriage and pair to Lachine, on the St. 
 Lawrence ; in a word, they spared no exertion on our be- 
 half, and 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 FLAG AGAIN. 53 
 
 passionately fond of horses, and keeps many. He came one 
 day with a drag and a splendid pair of horses, and drove us 
 round the Mountain. A fine, dashing fellow, full of 
 genuine Irish feeling, reminding me much of my dear 
 deceased friend, Denny O'Leary, of Coolmountain. One 
 day we lunched at his house, and met his wife, a 
 very charming lady. He was obliged to go off to the 
 races at Saratoga, and, as he will be going again on the 
 1 2th August, we agreed to meet him there. 
 
 I may conclude the history of our collection at Montreal 
 by stating that, between all we received in the churches, 
 and from private individuals, we realized 1000 dollars ! which 
 we converted into a draft, and sent the bishop ^200 1 This 
 was magnificent. So pleased were we with the people, that 
 we promised to come back in winter for a few days, "just 
 to see what kind of thing a Canadian winter is, " but in 
 reality that I may deliver a lecture in St. Patrick's Hall, 
 where we hope to raise another, 1000 dollars. Several 
 gentlemen, besides those already mentioned, came to pay 
 their respects, and to ask us to dinner. Indeed, I must say, 
 once for all, that I never received so much kindness any- 
 where as I did in Montreal, and I doubt very much if people 
 elsewhere are capable of being so obliging and polite. 
 
 It was no use for us to sound the generosity 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- 
 isiastical authorities to blend the two nationalities, but oil
 
 54 D1AR 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 
 nowM.P. for Montreal, a Catholic, and another Mr. Ryan 
 represents Montreal in the Upper House, also a Catholic, 
 so that it is possible to get on, but very difficult under 
 the pressing weight of Irish Catholicism.
 
 THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 55 
 
 The national game of Canada is called lacrosse. It 
 is an Indian game, and is so called from the name 
 which the Indians give the instrument with which it is 
 played. The game somewhat resembles our game of 
 " hurling," and is played in this manner. There are twelve 
 at each side, each armed with a weapon somewhat 
 resembling a "racket," only that the net-work is much 
 larger and looser. At each end of the field are two poles, 
 separated by a distance of 8 feet, and a flag flies from each 
 pole. The contending parties defend their own poles, and 
 the game consists of driving the ball through the poles of 
 the enemy. This is extremely difficult, as the poles are so 
 well guarded on both sides, and the excitement of the spec, 
 tators is very great, for the victory appears every moment 
 about to be won or lost ; and just as it seems inevitable^ 
 some happy stroke drives the ball into the centre of the field 
 where some splendid manoeuvring is displayed in the effort 
 to push it to either side. Now, I have said that this 
 lacrosse is an Indian game, and for playing it the Indians are 
 well adapted by nature, being endowed with considerable 
 activity and proverbial fleetness. But in emulation of them 
 a club was started in Montreal of young gentlemen, sons of 
 respectable residents, some Protestants, and some Canadian 
 Catholics, called the Montreal Lacrosse Club. Those con- 
 tended frequently with the Indians, but the latter always 
 procured the championship. 
 
 I may mention that in the neighbourhood of Montreal are 
 some Indian villages, and there aboriginal families still reside, 
 speak their own language, and conform to all their ancient 
 usages, except as far as Christianity tempers their savage pro- 
 pensities, for they are nearly all Catholics, and have their
 
 5 6 DIA R Y OF A TO UR IN A ME RICA. 
 
 priests and churches like civilized men. They dress like their 
 neighbours, and are peaceful and tractable. The chief village 
 where these descendants of the fierce Iroquois dwell is on 
 the St. Lawrence, some 8 miles up from Montreal, and is as 
 well as I can write it spelt Changanawagh (pronounced Kaw-a 
 na-wau-ga). This is the head-quarters 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 born in 
 the old country, but the majority merely of Irish parentage 
 associated themselves together with a view of contending for 
 the championship 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 St. Patrick's ; they live in a 
 large asylum not far from the church, and the domestic 
 management of the institution is conducted by the Sisters of 
 the "Grey Nunnery," a Canadian convent formation. Once 
 a year the boys and girls get what is called a pic-nic, but 
 which conveys a different meaning in Canada from that 
 attached to it in these countries. With us a pic-nic is asso- 
 ciated with a long journey, a romantic spot, a green sward, 
 and costly viands of all descriptions. In Montreal it some- 
 times is that, but on the present occasion it meant that the 
 children are marched to a certain field where there is a large 
 gallery erected for them to sit, and eat and view the game of 
 lacrosse played by the " Shamrocks " and the Indians of 
 Changanawagh. Thousands are to assemble, and having 
 paid fifty cents a head, are to enjoy a similar privilege, and 
 by paying other cents may indulge in the cooling luxury of 
 "ginger beer," or soda water, the proceeds of the whole to 
 go to the orphans ; the spectacle is to be varied by running 
 and football, and during the interval the band of the orphan 
 boys are to play Irish national airs. The day is fixed 
 Thursday, the i4th of July the public expectation is 
 on the qul 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 12 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 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 atmospheric changes so peculiar to hot climates. The sun 
 darkens, a thick black cloud covers the mountain (Mount 
 Royal), at the foot of which the game is to be played ; soon 
 the lightning flashes, the thunder rolls, the rain falls, but 
 strangest of all, a fierce hurricane arises and rushes over the 
 city with the well-known shriek of the tempest. Father 
 Hogan is in despair lest the game may not come off. " It 
 will clear up," he says, "it will clear up." But, no ; it does 
 not clear up, but comes down in savage and more savage 
 fury every moment. 
 
 At length, about half-past three, there is a partial cessa- 
 tion, and we drive to the ground. The Shamrocks and 
 Indians are there, and a goodly gathering of the sons and 
 daughters of Erin, but it is too evident that the game can- 
 not be played, for the ground is too sloppy, and it is raining 
 still. A postponement until Monday is announced, and 
 there is a general dispersion, and a strong repining 
 against the capriciousness of the clouds. It was well 
 the game was given over, for we had no sooner arrived at 
 home than the tempest arose in a form to which its previous 
 conduct was but as child's play. The thunder, lightning, 
 rain, and wind were blended together in one mad med- 
 ley, and while the eye was bewildered by watching the 
 drifting ocean of descending water and almost blinded by 
 the frequent flashes, the ear was appalled by the howling 
 voice of the hurricane, tearing huge trees, unroofing 
 houses, destroying chimneys, and cutting up the streets 
 as if it were a ploughshare. One church spire was toppled 
 over, and one boy was killed ; the shipping had enough to 
 do, and, in a word, a storm passed over Montreal, the like 
 of which " the oldest inhabitant " had never witnessed.
 
 THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 59 
 
 But it cannot be raining always. Monday came and 
 was fine. We were on the lacrosse grounds ; seven 
 thousand spectators are present, almost all Irish boys and 
 girls, all well and tastefully clad, all smiling and happy. 
 The ground is roped off for the contending parties, and the 
 spectators are seated on a gallery extending the whole 
 length of the field, presenting a charming aspect, with the 
 wooded mountain for a background. A small stand is 
 erected where the clergy sit under a canopy, Father Hogan 
 being most conspicuous by his large handsome form, and 
 trembling all over with the excitement of fear and suspense 
 for the success of his protegees. The orphans' band plays 
 the melodies of Ireland. The gingerbeer corks are popping 
 out every moment, and the whole scene is as bright and as 
 brisk as it could be. It appears we have had a great miss. 
 Moffit, one of the crack " Shamrocks," has just won a foot- 
 race against an English runner of great note. Father Hogan 
 denounces it as imprudent, considering that Moffit must 
 have puffed himself for the game of lacrosse, for Moffit is a 
 great point d'appni 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, keep back, if you plaze,'' 
 but the girls do not keep back. " Ah ! now," he soothingly 
 remonstrates, " do push back. No ! Oh ! begor, ladies, ye 
 must push back, if ye were twice as handsome." They yield 
 at the behest of that weakness to which woman ever proves
 
 60 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 responsive, namely, vanity. Another policeman in another 
 quarter tries his persuasive powers with another group of 
 sirens, but he gives up the task in despair, for they vanish 
 at one point but thicken in another. He returns worsted 
 in the amiable conflict, and exclaims to Falvey. " By the law 
 you might as well be wrastling with a ghost ? " I thought 
 how different would have been the conduct of the Royal 
 Irish at home with what a stern face and a still more stern 
 baton they would have pushed the fair daughters of the 
 Emerald Isle outside the ring, nor prove susceptible to the 
 most bewitching smile that would have sought to deprecate 
 their anger. 
 
 The posts are fixed at either end, and each bears a 
 flag the Indian red, the Irish green, of course, and 
 now the melee commences. The athletes appear upon the 
 field, clad in " tights," save one little Indian who insisted 
 on the style known as sans culotte. A red belt distin- 
 guishes the Indians, a green belt the Irish. The game 
 begins, and the excitement everywhere is intense. Twelve 
 at each side, all armed with the lacrosse. The ball is out 
 and there is great contention for it, each party striving to 
 fling or drive it towards the poles of the adversary, so 
 that it may if possible pass through by main force, or be 
 slipped through by cunning. We admire the marvellous 
 speed of all parties, particularly the Irish. One " Shamrock' 
 catches the ball in his lacrosse and runs with it, like a deer, 
 towards the enemies' poles, but he is chased by an Indian, who 
 strives with his lacrosse to dislodge the ball, or prevent its being 
 flung. The "Shamrock" stoops and the Indian is borne head- 
 long by, and before another Indian can come up, the 
 "Shamrock" flings the ball to within a few inches of the poise,
 
 THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 61 
 
 where a half-dozen Indians are posted to repel it. It is once 
 more in the middle of the field, and the contest for its pos- 
 session is disputed by another half-dozen, the crowd all the 
 while shouting at every clever manoeuvre, whether of Sham- 
 rock or Indian. I will not attempt to go into details, I can 
 only say that there was evoked by the contest all the 
 pleasurable excitement which ever springs from beholding a 
 contest where physical strength, activity and fleetness are 
 pitted together, and where the mind is further stimulated by 
 the hope of national honour, or the apprehension of national 
 disgrace. 
 
 The first game was won by the Indians in six minutes. 
 I should have stated the game was three out of five. 
 There was no shouting for the Indians, and when the 
 band played up it was not a lively air. After an interval of 
 ten minutes the second game began ; it lasted thirty-five 
 minutes, a fearful contest under the red hot sun, and was 
 won by the Irish. Then, indeed, there was shouting and 
 throwing up of hats, and the band played its most exultant 
 strains. The third game continued twelve minutes and was 
 won by the Irish, and the same sounds and sights of jubila- 
 tion prevailed. The fourth game continued forty-five 
 minutes and was won by the Indians in perfect silence. 
 Now comes the last game, the game of championship, and 
 scarcely a breath disturbs the silence. We were not long 
 kept in suspense. After six minutes fortune decided for 
 the "Shamrock." I cannot attempt to describe the wild 
 joy of the spectators. All rushed madly into the field and 
 embraced the victors, who stood puffed and perspiring and 
 \vith hands all livid from the blows of their enemies' 
 lacrosses. The air was filled with cheers, and I fancy I
 
 62 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 was the only man in the field who felt an emotion of 
 sympathy for the defeated Indians. It was a tremendous 
 triumph, and Father Hogan was in ecstacies. He passed 
 through the throng, and shook hands with all the " boys," 
 presenting the spectacle, so often witnessed in the old 
 country, of men contending for glory with the blessing and 
 under the admiring eye and stimulating presence of the 
 "Soggarth Aroon." A few evenings after Father Hogan 
 entertained the whole " Shamrock " Club at a supper in his 
 own house. I was present. We spent a very pleasant 
 evening ; we had toasts and songs and plentiful draughts of 
 ginger beer, a great deal of talk about old Ireland, and 
 strong expressions of hope for her future prosperity. Such 
 was my experience of the Indian game of Lacrosse. 
 
 How strongly is the history of Ireland interwoven with the 
 history of America ! It was well for the persecuted race that 
 so rich a country lay open for their reception, when all but 
 Providence had appeared to have abandoned them. And 
 yet for how many was the ordeal of transportation the most 
 trying period of their unhappy lives, and for how many was 
 this land of promise a land of doom and desolation ! I 
 have been lately speaking to a most respectable Irish clergy- 
 man in one of the great cities of Canada, who emigrated 
 here in the year 1835, when he was only fourteen years old. 
 He and 250 others left Ireland in a small brig a sailing 
 vessel and 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 ; thty ate and drank 
 and slept and were sea sick together promiscuously. He 
 remembers with a shudder the starvation, the foul air, the
 
 THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 63 
 
 stench of ejected and stagnant bile, the disease and death 
 that prevailed through these three long months on board 
 that melancholy ship ; how he lost all consciousness, and 
 cared not to live ; how he forget what was decent, or even 
 human, and landed without a sensation of relief, deeming 
 that no better fate could be in store for him on land than 
 he had experienced at sea. And this was the case of many, 
 very many. In Ireland, in 1847 and thereabouts, there 
 came the memorable famine. The landlords were too glad 
 to get rid by any means of their starving and insolvent 
 tenants. They shipped them off in large numbers to 
 America, paying their passage oh ! yes, paying their pas- 
 sage, as they would pay for pigs or sheep, and little recking 
 how their fellow-creatures should be treated on that long sea 
 voyage. The poor people obeyed the behests of their 
 tyrant, heartless lords, and, in " poverty, hunger and dirt," 
 with famine in their cheeks and disease in their vitals, and 
 despair in their hearts, like " dumb driven cattle," they went 
 to the great ship, and entered, " anywhere, anywhere, out 
 of the world " where nought but the worst and most appall- 
 ing of deaths stared them in the face. 
 
 Thousands sailed thus for Quebec in sailing ships, at 
 low prices. It would not be a paying concern if they 
 were properly fed, and so the starved were treated to con- 
 genial starvation. They were stowed away in the " fever 
 ship ; " the typhus broke out ; the plague infected the 
 hold and the deck and the rigging. Week passed after 
 week, and the disease, the grim disease, slew its unre- 
 sisting hecatombs. Every day the sack ah ! no, the 
 victims had not even the dignity of a sack, but such as 
 they were, in their tattered clothes, reeking with fever
 
 64 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 and crawling with vermin, they were launched into the 
 deep, where they found at least a resting-place from man's 
 implacable and unrelenting cruelty. The fragments of 
 humanity whom God had spared reached their destina- 
 tion. They dragged their faltering limbs up the steep 
 heights of Quebec. Some were billeted to Montreal, and 
 there debarked. Of those two cities they walked the 
 street, more like animated corpses than living men, such, 
 perhaps, as walked the earth when Christ died, and the 
 veil of the temple was rent. Here humanity was moved. 
 The starving, dying thousands found sympathy with the 
 French-Canadians of Montreal. Sheds were erected for 
 them, where at least they might live as long as God would 
 let them. The Mayor a worthy man, Mr. Mills was so 
 unremitting in his kindness that he sacrificed his life to his 
 benevolence. The Sisters of Mercy came to their aid, and 
 some good priests perished in their efforts to allay the 
 agonies of the sufferers. 
 
 But, to be brief, for it is a harrowing tale, no less than six 
 thousand Irish men and women fell victims at this time in 
 Montreal alone, to famine and fever. As they died they were 
 buried, many without the poor honours of a coffin, outside 
 the sheds at a place called Point St. Charles, just near 
 the great Victoria Bridge, to which I have already alluded. 
 I came down with Father Hogan to see the spot where so 
 many of my fellow-countrymen so miserably perished. 
 There was the desolate spot, enclosed by a fragile paling 
 there the numerous mounds and, above all, in the centre, 
 an enormous stone placed on a pedestal a huge boulder 
 from the bed of the St. Lawrence commemorating the 
 tragic circumstance, with words somewhat as follow :
 
 THE BRITISH FLAG AGAIN. 65 
 
 "Here lie the remains of 6,000 immigrants [why did they 
 not say Irish?], who perished of famine in the year 1847. 
 Erected by [I forget the names of the builders of the Victoria 
 Bridge], May God have mercy on their souls ! " 
 
 That I may not be wanting in justice io the memory of Mr. 
 D'Arcy McGee, I must say that he was a stern Catholic, and 
 always, and in all kinds of company, stood up bravely for his 
 religion and its practices, when they were assailed by bigotry 
 or contempt. In this matter he never flinched, but was ever a 
 valiant and uncompromising champion. When twitted, for 
 example, with abstaining from the use of meat on Friday, at 
 a dinner party, amongst Protestants, he defended the practice 
 of the Church by arguments worthy of an accomplished 
 divine, and was never guilty of that cowardly weakness 'by 
 which some of his co-religionists sacrifice their principle to 
 their appetites on this point. Again, he was a man of in- 
 tense charity and compassion for the poor, and I have heard 
 some well-authenticated anecdotes illustrating this feature of 
 his character. These things I feel bound to mention, as I 
 have at all alluded to him, having no desire save that the 
 full truth should be known about him. 
 
 After my sermon on Sunday, the i7th, 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 /A AMERICA. 
 
 house in London, and expressed a desire that I should, on 
 my return from America, make a tour on board the " Tweed " 
 along the coast of the Mediterranean. I hope I shall be 
 able to do so. Many people flocked about me who had 
 been from Cork, and put various enquiries, which I answered 
 as best I could. One poor woman, a servant, from Cork, 
 insisted on my taking from her four dollars for the object of 
 my mission, and only asked in return a little picture or other 
 token, no matter how insignificant, which would tell her it 
 came from her native city. Of course I complied with her 
 request. I was able to send the Bishop before leaving 
 Montreal a draft for ^200, the first instalment of the large 
 sum which I hope to collect before my return. It was with 
 considerable regret that we prepared to leave this city, con- 
 soled by the hope of returning in the winter. We spent one 
 whole day in driving about and paying farewell visits to all 
 the friends whose acquaintance we had made. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 QUEBEC AND THE SAGUENAY. 
 
 AT seven o'clock on the evening of Thursday, July the 
 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.
 
 Q UEBEC AND THE SA G UENA Y, 6 7 
 
 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 1 1 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 think, 
 " South Quebec." We were soon moored, and the city 
 rose precipitously above us, the citadel crowning all. 
 We drive by a " 'Bus " to the St. Louis Hotel, and how 
 the horse dragged the heavy machine, well loaded with 
 passengers, up 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 th* 
 year 1759, when England was at war with the French in 
 Canada, the celebrated General Wolfe led his soldiers across 
 it on foot ; it flows into the St. Lawrence, and from that 
 river it is quite possible to see the Falls. They descend 
 rather slowly, one might say leisurely, at least in summer, 
 for then the water is shallow. The bulk of descending water 
 is not much, and the whole spectacle might be called pretty 
 rather than majestic. Just above the falls was a few years 
 ago a suspension-bridge, which broke one day as a cart was 
 passing, containing a father, mother and son. They were 
 all precipitated to the bottom, and only the body of one,
 
 QUEBEC AND THE SAGUENAY. 69 
 
 the father, was recovered ; the rest still lie in cavities covered 
 by the falling water. 
 
 We remove to Father Magauvran, and meet his curates, 
 one of whom is a very nice young clergyman named Maguire, 
 son of Judge Maguire ; another a Father Neville ; a third 
 a Mr. Connolly. They are all very agreeable and gentle- 
 manly. After dinner, Father Magauvran takes us out to see 
 the city. He brings us to see Durham Terrace, an elevated 
 plateau at an enormous height over the lower city, and 
 commanding one of the finest views I ever beheld. At an 
 immense depth below is the great St. Lawrence, with its far- 
 off windings at either side with its multitudinous rafts, 
 and ships, and the towns and villages on its banks, and 
 long ranges of houses stretching in every direction, and, 
 beyond all, tall mountains in the distance. To be admired 
 it must be seen. Durham Terrace is a fashionable lounge, 
 and on certain evenings a military band plays here. 
 
 Quebec is a strongly-fortified city, although it could 
 not well withstand the assaults of modern warfare. A 
 great wall, with five massive gates, surrounds it ; but a 
 vast portion of the city too is outside the walls. One of 
 those suburbs is called St. Roch, where a few years ago was 
 an immense fire, which destroyed three hundred houses. 
 We passsed through it, and it reminded me very much of 
 pictures I have seen of the disinterred cities of Herculaneum 
 and Pompeii ruin and desolation on every side. We in- 
 spected the citadel, from which, as it is far higher, there is a 
 better view than from Durham Terrace. Father Magauvran 
 showed us several places of interest the University, the 
 French Cathedral and Cemeteries, and a spot where some 
 years ago about 200 people were burnt to death while
 
 70 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 viewing a diorama in a theatre. Fire appears to be the 
 special agent of destruction in Quebec. Periodical con- 
 flagrations take place, and hundreds of houses are burnt ; 
 even the woods in the neighbourhood often take fire, and 
 for several days clouds of smoke overhang the city, while an 
 occasional bear, driven before the flames, seeks refuge among 
 the haunts of men. 
 
 On Sunday I preach, and with permission of Father Ma- 
 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 English, and 
 General Montcalm, on the part of the French, on which 
 occasion both generals lost their lives. We passed close to 
 a pillar indicating the spot where Wolfe fell, a scene which
 
 QUEBEC AND THE SAGUENAY. 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 with him also an old 
 man named Dunne, aged 86, but wonderfully strong and 
 hale, who discoursed with great familiarity of the Irish 
 Rebellion of '98, of which he preserved a vivid memory. 
 The whole scene was Irish to my fancy, for we had green 
 fields, distant hills, and the sweet brogue everywhere about. 
 The geniality of these people was astonishing they were so 
 delighted to have two genuine Irish Priests with them. They 
 showed us their cattle, and such cattle I never saw. One 
 field contained an immense number of bullocks, of whose 
 beauty I shall say nothing, but of whose size I shall say 
 that one, a great white one, was like an elephant, and 
 though he is only about to be fattened, already stands over 
 one ton weight. Mr. Delany pointed to him with peculiar 
 pride, and seemed to regard him as a rare possession. He 
 then showed us his pigs, numbering about 100. His farm 
 consists of over a hundred acres of prime land, and is his 
 own property out and out. He has a large family, one or 
 two being married, and he has abundance of means for 
 all the rest. " And yet," said Mr. Delany, " the day we 
 landed in Quebec we had very little." " You astonish me," 
 I said. " And how did you get on so well." " I will tell 
 you," said the outspoken Thomas. " I was determined to 
 get on, so the day after I landed I got employment in a 
 butcher's stall, and when he saw I knew the business, for I 
 was brought up to it at home, he took a fancy to me. But 
 lie 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 offered to 
 lend him money out of the Bank if he could get any kind of 
 security. Tom succeeded, and when Mr. Gunn lent him ^"20 
 Tom opened his eyes on the enormous amount of wealth in 
 his hands. But he went on until Mr. Gunn would be glad 
 to lend him ,5,000 ; but Tom did not want it, for he was 
 now an independent, rich, and happy man. Here, then,
 
 74 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 was an instance of an Irishman rising to wealth and inde- 
 pendence by pure industry and honesty. He took us into 
 his house where we had tea, and where his daughter played 
 and sung at the piano for our amusement, and I could not 
 but feel charmed on witnessing the comfort that reigned in 
 that happy homestead, and contrasting it with the position 
 which the same group would occupy if they had remained in 
 the old country. 
 
 One evening Mr. Sharpies came with his carriage, and 
 having paid his respects to us proposed to drive us 
 to his house, some three miles from town, where we 
 might have tea, and return at a convenient hour. We 
 willingly accepted his offer. His house is only a very short 
 distance from the church of St. Columb Sillery, of which I 
 have already spoken, but it is on the low ground not far from 
 the river, while the church is in an elevated and very re- 
 markable position. We found Mrs. Sharpies and her children 
 to be a very interesting family. She comes from Clonakilty 
 in the County of Cork, her maiden name being Alleyn, and 
 the whole family had sojourned for some months, three 
 years ago, at the Queen's Hotel, Queenstown. The children 
 are all young men with the exception of one daughter, a very 
 pretty young lady. Here a Mr. James De Witt O'Donovan 
 was on a visit, and in him I recognised a gentleman whose 
 face was as familiar to me as that of my dearest friends. I 
 have many a time seen him in Cork. It turns out that he 
 comes from Middleton, and had onlyjust arrived to make a 
 tour of pleasure in America. We spent a most agreeable 
 evening. There was also present the Rev. M. Fourmier, 
 already alluded to, and a young gentleman named Wade, 
 just arrived from England. We sat on the piazza and chatted
 
 Q UEBEC AND THE SA G UENA Y. 75 
 
 about Ireland, and particularly about Cork, with which the 
 whole family were well acquainted. One young gentleman 
 was very much amused by the fact that everyone in Cork 
 seemed disposed to accompany him in any tour of pleasure 
 which he wished to make. Young men who, he fancied, should 
 be at their places of business, came with him freely as if they 
 had nothing to do. No one seemed to be in a hurry. The busi- 
 ness was left to 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 we should all go and pay a 
 visit at his house unawares, so that we might judge for our- 
 selves whether this was true. We went and found Mr. and 
 Mrs. and Miss Flood at home, and certainly I have nevei 
 been in a house, whether of the rich or poor, where there 
 was so much neatness, and, for the means, so much elegance 
 displayed. The front door led into the parlour, which was 
 papered and carpeted, and well stocked with pictures. 
 There was a sofa, and on the centre table were books and 
 ornaments, all gracefully arranged, and in the middle a 
 lamp. In a word, everything was in the best style, and 
 clean to scrupulosity itself. Off the parlour was the kit- 
 chen, in which there were two large stoves, one for winter 
 and one for summer, and both as bright as brush and black- 
 ead could make them. We were obliged to go up stairs to
 
 76 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 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. 
 Born here, his parents are Irish, and though he never saw 
 the Emerald Isle, he loves it as though it were his native 
 land. This morning, by the kindness of a certain Captain 
 Russell, he procured a small steamer belonging to the 
 " River Police," in which he wished us to go to New Liver- 
 pool, a village at the other side of the river, some three 
 miles up, that he might visit the church of that place, which 
 now that it is complete, is regarded as the prettiest church of 
 its size in Canada. We went, accompanied by two or three 
 ecclesiastical students, who are on a visit in the house. The 
 morning was very fine, and we enjoyed the trip very much.
 
 Q UEBEC AND THE SA G VENA Y. 7 7 
 
 The church, which presents a very fine view from the river, 
 is of an unpretending exterior, built of limestone, and with 
 the usual tin-covered spire, but the interior justifies all that 
 has been said in its praise. It is quite a gem. The style is 
 Grecian. There is a nave and two aisles, and the whole is 
 decorated and adorned with frescoes of the highest artistic 
 excellence. The ceiling is all painted, representing scenes 
 from the life of Our Lord, and the sanctuary is perfection 
 itself. My limited knowledge of architectural phraseology 
 forbids me to describe in a proper manner my views of this 
 church ; but I will sum up all in this, that for its size and 
 style, it is without exception the most delightful church I 
 ever beheld. The pastor, the Rev. Mr. Saxe, led us through 
 it, and was charmed with our praises of it. He is himself 
 a very charming person, with as little as possible of priestly 
 seeming in his manner ; good-humoured and large-minded, 
 having with much that is human the one absorbing spiritual 
 passion, a love for the beauty of God's house, nor was his 
 own dwelling out of keeping with the church. On the con- 
 trary, order and beauty reigned everywhere. Before we 
 enter we must see his exquisite garden, cultivated entirely 
 by himself. He has a vinery worthy of a ducal man- 
 sion, and such a variety of flowers that the atmosphere is 
 laden with perfume. The interior of his house is 
 elegant, in the extreme, wanting in nothing, and when we 
 complimented him upon the beauty of all we saw, he said 
 " Well you see a priest has few pleasures/ and he ought to 
 provide himself with as many as he can legitimately enjoy. 
 That is my idea, and I act up to it." 
 
 Having bade him farewell after tasting his t wine, 
 we re-entered our steamer, and went still further up
 
 78 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 the river to a point where a river called the "Chaudiere" 
 Joins the St. Lawrence. We have resolved to pay 
 a visit to the " Falls of Chaudiere," celebrated next 
 after those of Niagara and Montmorenci. In order to 
 accomplish this little journey we were forced to look out for 
 some kind of land conveyance, for the Falls were three miles 
 up the river, and the water was too shallow for the steamer 
 to go any further. Accordingly we proceed on foot up a 
 rather steep acclivity, to a place where we see some houses. 
 We enter one and find it the house of a French Canadian 
 peasant ; we state our want and they immediately answer 
 that we can be accommodated. While the men prepare the 
 conveyances, for we require two, the woman of the house 
 treats us to some milk. The French spoken by these 
 people is not very intelligible to me, but Father Maguire was 
 quite at home in it. We drive a few miles and then stop. 
 We have to walk across a few fields to see the Falls ; here 
 they are beneath us, a very respectable flow of water, indeed, 
 but after the two great Falls we have seen, rather insignificant. 
 Owing to the dryness of the season the river is very shallow^ 
 and the Falls are not full, but there is a long portion of river 
 which, though now empty, must in the spring time be full 
 enough, in which case the Falls must be very grand to look 
 at. High as we were above them the spray reached us from 
 the rocks on which the descending water broke. Around 
 the scenery is splendid, woods spreading behind the Falls 
 on both sides, the river running over brown rocks between, 
 while beyond, at an immense distance, spread the fields, 
 forests and mountains of the North. We rejoined our crew 
 on board the steamer in due time, weary and wet with per- 
 spiration from all we had to walk, and steamed to Quebec, 
 delighted with our trip.
 
 QUEBEC AND THE SAGUENAY. 79 
 
 On Sunday the church was crowded, for the sound 
 had gone forth that a priest from Ireland was to preach- 
 I delivered a sermon on the respect due to the House 
 of God and then made my special appeal. I collected 
 247 dollars. During Mass I was somewhat surprised to hear 
 the organ playing several Irish airs, such as " The Last Rose 
 of Summer," " The Meeting 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 the 
 melodies during Mass, he assured me that he was very fond 
 indeed, passionately fond of the Irish airs, and that, of 
 them all, his favourite was that lovely lyric " Mary, you are 
 now sitting in style !" (evidently, " You're sitting on the stile, 
 Mary "). Thus we had every reason to be content with the 
 munificence of the Irish in Quebec, for, owing to their fre- 
 quent fires, their charity has been sadly overtaxed ; besides, 
 it is now a poor city owing to the substitution of iron for wood. 
 The latter branch of industry has been almost eliminated from 
 the place, which is a great misfortune, as in consequence of the 
 abundance of timber brought here from the Western country, 
 ships were built in large numbers in Quebec. The people, 
 however, are very kind and good, and our stay here was very 
 pleasant. 
 
 Before leaving we were advised to visit the River 
 Saguenay, one of the great sights not only about Quebec, 
 but in all America. This river, rising in a certain lake (St. 
 John) joins the St. Lawrence at a point about 100 miles 
 down the St. Lawrence from Quebec, and steamers run 
 from the latter place three or four times a week, to
 
 So DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 enable tourists to visit the beautiful scenery for which the 
 Saguenay is distinguished. On Tuesday morning, August 
 ist, we left the wharf at Quebec in the " Union," to make 
 this little tour. The morning was very unpromising for 
 purposes of sight seeing, for it rained and thundered with 
 unmitigated ferocity. But the very vehemence of the 
 storm was the surest augury of its short duration, and 
 in point of fact it soon cleared up, and the weather became 
 all that could be desired. 
 
 Descending the river, we had a very good view of 
 Quebec, situated at the junction of the St. Lawrence 
 and the St. Charles, and surmounted by the citadel, 
 which protects the river on every side. We soon caught 
 sight of the Montmorenci Falls, which present from 
 this point a magnificent spectacle falling in copious volume 
 from their great elevation, and filling the surrounding air 
 with spray. 
 
 Further down is the large and beautiful island of 
 Orleans very picturesque, wooded, and cultivated, and 
 thickly inhabited ; and, still further, Gros Island an island 
 of melancholy recollections to the Irishman who becomes 
 acquainted with its terrible history. Here, in the fatal year 
 of 1847, the fever ships from Ireland, already alluded to in 
 these pages, were placed in quarantine. Here, as at Point 
 St. Charles in Montreal, were sheds erected for the sufferers. 
 Here they died first in tens a day, then in hundreds. Here 
 perished with them many good priests and nuns. Here 
 arose, with appalling suddenness, a huge Necropolis a City 
 of the Irish Dead, where, in addition to the victims of the 
 grim tyrant, were interred (horrible to think of!) many live 
 human beings, as I have heard asseverated by more than
 
 QUEBEC AND THE SAG UE NAY. Si 
 
 one witness of the tragic scene. When the fatal work was 
 accomplished it was ascertained that from 8,000 to 10,000 
 souls had perished, whose bones lie now beneath the sod in 
 this lonely island as I pass. I inquired from several persons 
 whether any sufferers survived this terrible pest, and I was 
 answered " a few did," but that they were scarcely worth 
 counting. Some four hundred children survived, whose 
 parents perished ; and, let the Irish at home ever remember 
 it with gratitude, the present Archbishop of Quebec, 
 Monseigneur Bailleargeon, animated by the spirit of the 
 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 rim the 
 whole way. Here and there the houses accumulate, and 
 
 G
 
 82 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 we have a town such as Riviere-du-Loup, and Cacouna 
 fashionable watering-places. ; One watering-place only lies 
 up the left side, and this is called Murray Bay. At all 
 these places we touch, and give and receive passengers. 
 On board we have a large number, principally Americans, 
 who are all very agreeable, and show a fraternizing spirit. 
 We are specially taken up by one family a lady and 
 gentleman, and their daughter, from New York, who 
 are very interesting. We spend almost the whole time 
 in their company. 
 
 About seven o'clock in the evening we reach the 
 mouth of the Saguenay, on the left bank, and land at 
 a little village called Tadousac, the very earliest settle- 
 ment, I believe, of the French in Canada. We catch one 
 glimpse of the river, and it seems to realize all we have 
 heard and read about it precipitous banks, and copious 
 woods at both sides, and a pervading aspect of solitude, 
 with the placid water between the hills. We can stay as 
 long as we please at Tadousac, for the steamer will not go 
 up the Saguenay until midnight; not that we are expected to 
 view the river then, but that we may reach the highest point 
 before morning and view it on our return. Tadousac is 
 situated in a very wild region, reminding me much of Glen- 
 gariffe in the old country. It is evidently frequented by 
 pleasure-seekers and vacationists, for there are many pretty 
 cottages, and there is a fine strand for bathing, and the 
 water is sufficiently salt, for the air is strongly impregnated 
 with the odour of sea-weed. Here is a fine hotel, which, for 
 the honour of Ireland I may add, is kept by an " O'Brien." 
 At Tadousac is a little church which is said to be the oldest 
 in Canada. It is built of wood. If it be the oldest, it must
 
 QUEBEC AND THE SAGUENAY. 83 
 
 have been frequently rebuilt, as wood could scarcely survive 
 the wear of three centuries. 
 
 We adjourn to the steamer, as it grows dark, and 
 the rest of the evening is spent very pleasantly listening 
 to a performance on the piano by a person of very re- 
 markable musical talents. He is nothing more or less 
 than one of the waiters who assist at table on board the 
 boat, but his education and bearing are evidently far above 
 his present occupation. His performance on the piano was 
 simply marvellous. When he had played for some time, 
 he got an accordean, mounted like a 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 
 he could get nothing to do, and was forced, by way of a 
 beginning, to become waiter on board this steamer. He is 
 on the eve of something better he told me afterwards. 
 Another waiter, who happens to be a native 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 
 veyage 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." All he possesses he would 
 give to catch another glimpse of his native city, of the vege-
 
 84 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 tables that grow in the market-garden of Evergreen, and the 
 tombstones that grace the final resting-place of the dead, 
 amidst the trees and shrubs of the Botanic Gardens. 
 
 In due time we retire to rest, and in the morning, when we 
 dress, we go on deck and find ourselves anchored in a pretty 
 cove, with hills all around, some rocky and barren, others 
 wooded to the water's edge, while two small villages grace the 
 banks one just at hand and one at a considerable distance ; 
 but both so quiet that not a sound strikes the ear. This is, 
 " Ha-ha Bay " a curious name, and one arising from a 
 strange circumstance. When the French first rowed up the 
 Saguenay in a canoe, they turned in here, thinking it n 
 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 10 o'clock, and 
 then we proceed down the river to view its celebrated 
 scenery. The morning is lovely bright, calm, and 
 warm. After breakfast we land, and go up on the 
 most elevated of the hills in our neighbourhood to fulfil 
 a twofold object namely, to take some exercise, for we 
 had been very confined for the last twenty-four hours, and 
 to take views of the country all around. There is a portion 
 of the river much higher up than that to which we 
 ascend, but the boats rarely go so far, for in some parts 
 it is fit only for a canoe, and there are rapids which can be 
 got over only with considerable difficulty. At 10 o'clock we 
 start to do " the Saguenay." We have sixty-five miles to 
 traverse before we get back to Tadousac.
 
 Q UEBEC AND THE SA G VENA Y. 8 5 
 
 And now for the river. All along there are moun- 
 tains on both sides; in some places they are quite bare, 
 in others thinly wooded, while for the most part foliage 
 of every hue extends from the summit to the very 
 water. Here and there a cataract leaps down from the top, 
 perhaps from a height of fifteen hundred feet, peeping out 
 through the woods, and then hiding itself again the only 
 thing of life, and that only life in a figurative sense, dis- 
 tinguishable in this awful solitude. Barrenness and desola- 
 tion are around us on every side ; not even a bird passes in 
 the air or makes the wood resound with song ; not even a 
 solitary goat browses on the herbage, for here no herbage 
 grows. Animal life seeks in vain for sustenance in this 
 inexorable soil. Silence, oppressive silence, reigns on every 
 side. The voice of the tumbling cataract is the only sound 
 that salutes the ear. We reach Trinity Rock, an enormous 
 pile of naked granite standing right over the river at an 
 elevation of nine hundred feet. The steamer steers imme- 
 diately under it, and steam is shut off, that we may view the 
 scene. The huge bluff rocks look down from above, and 
 seem to threaten us with destruction. A revolver is fired 
 off to awaken the echoes, which are very fine, but cannot 
 compare with those of the "Eagle's Nest," at Killarney, to 
 which, indeed, Trinity Rock is not unlike. Here we ex- 
 perience a curious optical illusion. While standing under 
 the rock we fancy we are very near it, and the captain, as is 
 usual, had provided at Ha-ha Bay a bucket of stones, that 
 persons relying on their powers of projection might try to 
 strike the rock at the nearest point. Several attempted, 
 but all failed. The distance appeared so little that one 
 would fancy a child might hit the rock, but the stones flung 1
 
 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. 
 
 QucR regio in terris nostri non plena labor is! 
 
 A:igust 5. At 4 p.m. we went on board the "Georgia," 
 a very fine ocean steamer (Captain Connell), bound to 
 Picton, Nova Scotia, the farthest point to which she goes ; 
 the journey from Picton to Halifax to be accomplished by 
 rail. The evening was fine and warm. Our passengers 
 were not numerous, and amongst them were six nuns, bound 
 to Charlottetown, Prince Edward's Island, and two Christian 
 Brothers, bound to the same place, the former to join a 
 convent, the latter to found schools. The nuns were under 
 the protection of a French Canadian priest from Montreal, 
 from which place they had come by this same ship the pre- 
 vious day. When passing Gros Isle, to which I have 
 already alluded, the captain told me some startling things 
 of the unhappy sufferers, to whose misfortunes he was an 
 eye-witness. At that time he had been a pilot on the St. 
 Lawrence. 
 
 Next morning we reach a place called Father Point, 
 where some of our passengers land. From this place the 
 bank of the river on the right-hand side becomes very hilly 
 and wooded. Mountains beyond mountains appear, 
 some about three thousand feet high, and so close 
 are they in many places that the captain assured 
 us the snow and ice of winter is never melted in the valleys. 
 The bank on the other side can scarcely be seen. The 
 river at the farthest point is thirty miles wide ; it then 
 spreads and become the Gulf of St. Lawrence. The 
 weather is bright and cool, and we have a moon at night,
 
 88 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 and while we sit in groups, 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 130 miles in 
 length, and about 35, at the widest, in breadth. It reminds 
 me much of Ireland ; isolated from continental lands, green 
 as emerald, and fertile as Nature can be, with pleasant 
 harbours, and but here the comparison ceases with a 
 happy and contented population, self-governed, and only
 
 9 o 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 was incorporated (as a distinct Slate) 
 in the Dominion of C&nada in 1873. 
 
 f Now over 1 1 ,000.
 
 THE LAND OF THE BLUE NOSES. 91 
 
 a written telegram arrived, giving an account of a terrible 
 battle between the Prussians and French, in which the latter 
 were defeated with wholesale disaster. 
 
 On our way towards the ship we reach the cathedral, a fair 
 church enough, with a very great tower and a very short 
 spire. Next door was the bishop's palace, outside 
 was a carriage and horse, and the two Christian Bro- 
 thers were urging the nuns to enter, and proceed to 
 the convent. The nuns, no doubt believing that the 
 carriage was too small, were resisting and expressing a 
 determination to walk, as the night was so fine. There was 
 a good deal of argument between the brothers and sisters on 
 the subject ; but at last the horse brought matters to a 
 speedy conclusion. He seemed to have grown weary of 
 listening, and so in brief he simply " took head." Away 
 he dashed at full speed, the nuns aghast and the two 
 brothers stupefied. We followed the runaway, who went 
 right round the next corner, pursued by a few young men, 
 who had been standing by, and found that he had toppled 
 over, having done very little injury to himself, and only 
 broken the box of the carriage. 
 
 We proceeded towards the ship, which we reached in time, 
 as all things are reached. We slept on board, for the ship 
 stayed here as at Shadiac over night, and next morning in like 
 manner a great part 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 DJAR 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, and although they admitted the payment to be 
 just and fair, they declined, much to his annoyance and 
 indignation. During the winter the island is icebound, and 
 for several months the inhabitants devote themselves to the 
 pursuit of literature, with a zeal proportionate to the vast 
 store of knowledge to be acquired. If those people, 
 despite their insular views, die happy, why disturb them? 
 The population are chiefly of Scotch and North of Ireland 
 descent. The land is undulating, and there is scarcely a 
 decent hill anywhere. There is a submarine telegraph to 
 Nova Scotia, which is some connection with the world. 
 
 At ii o'clock, August the pth, we proceed to Picton, a 
 distance about 60 miles across the Northumberland Sound. 
 * Now about 110,000.
 
 THE LAND OF THE BL UE NOSES. 93 
 
 The air is very warm, and the voyage consequently very 
 pleasant. We reach Pictou at 3 o'clock, about an hour too 
 late to catch the train to Halifax. We must be content to 
 stay here all day and night, and leave for Halifax next 
 morning. Pictou is a pretty town, situated on the side of a 
 gently-sloping hill, not very high. The harbour is narrow, 
 and opens into a large basin, which looks like a lake, not 
 quite so picturesque, nor so large as that of Queenstown, 
 yet resembling it somewhat. We go on shore, and seek the 
 chief hotel, where we first of all look for the news. Unfor- 
 tunately for Mr. Turgeon, the intelligence from the seat of 
 war thoroughly confirms all we had heard at Charlotte- 
 town, and adds the account of fresh disasters. His incre- 
 dulity is too sorely tested, and he takes refuge in resignation. 
 We walk through the town and are surprised at its dulness. 
 It is as quiet as any Irish town I ever saw. We return to 
 the ship. Some go to bathe, including Turgeon, McCord, 
 and the young Browns. They return to tea, after which we 
 all go boating in the lovely water, smooth as glass. The 
 beautiful moonlight forms fiery serpents dancing on the water 
 in our neighbourhood, and illumines it into one silvery sheet 
 farther on. We sing, and are, of course, pleased with the 
 effect of our own voices. We are very happy. Turgeon 
 sings French songs, and we applaud as well as we can. 
 We return to the vessel and spend an hour or more on deck 
 enjoying the loveliness of the scene and the balm of the air. 
 I know not how it is, but strangers as we all are to each 
 other, we feel as if we loved each other, and condensed into 
 an hour the pleasantness of a communion which, for most of 
 us, must be soon broken for ever. We retire early, for we 
 must be up early in the morning to start for Halifax.
 
 94 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 We leave Pictou at 6 a.m. Three rivers flow into this 
 harbour, and are navigable to about 60 miles up the country. 
 Here also are coal mines of great value. We journey onward 
 through a very wooded country all the way (112 miles in 
 eight hours) to Halifax, very little diversified with signs of 
 cultivation. The land is poor, oats being the chief crop. 
 Wheat is not much grown in Nova Scotia, as it becomes 
 the victim of a small insect called the "weevil," which de- 
 stroys it in the first stages of its ripeness. Consequently 
 there is a large importation of flour. 
 
 The population of Nova Scotia is only about 350,000,* 
 about one-tenth of the population of London. Shipbuilding 
 is carried on to a great extent here, and some of the wealthiest 
 shipowners in the world are said to be Nova Scotians. 
 Certainly there is wood enough on the peninsula to build all 
 the ships 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 450,000 .
 
 THE LAND OF THE BLUE NOSES. 95 
 
 which is here visible a very lovely view of hill, wood, 
 water, and islands. I begin to think Killarney is in danger 
 of losing its post of pre-eminence in my admiration. It so 
 happens that there is a large pic-nic party at Bedford, and 
 the sight of many ladies strolling through the fields and 
 along the rocky shore makes the scene very picturesque. 
 The conductor points out a pretty pavilion-like building 
 raised by the Duke of Kent, the Queen's father, when he 
 was Governor here. It commands a view of marvellous 
 beauty. 
 
 At length we reach Halifax, and put up at the 
 " Halifax Hotel," Hollis Street, with which we were very 
 much pleased. Halifax is a pretty city, long and narrow, 
 situated along the shore of the sea with a commodious 
 harbour. The ascent from the shore is very gradual and of 
 small account. The summit behind the city is crowned by 
 a fortification called the " Citadel," which commands a 
 splendid view of the city, the bay, and the country beyond. 
 At the other side of the water also on the shore is a veiy 
 thriving town called Dartmouth. Halifax is built in "blocks," 
 with the streets running parallel, and intersected by others 
 running parallel. There is a good sprinkling of trees 
 through the city ; it is remarkably clean, and quiet almost 
 to dulness. Instead of a quay there are several wharves in 
 the midst of the water. Just in front of the town rises 
 a large island, which is mounted with cannon, and forms a 
 great protection for the harbour. The population is, I believe, 
 about 35,000, about half being Catholics and the rest of 
 different religious persuasions. The Mayor, Mr. Stephen 
 Tobin, though born here is the son of a Cork mother. 
 Mr. Kenny, Governor fro tern, vice General Doyle, a
 
 96 DIARY 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 : " Qitce regio in terris nostri non plena 
 {aborts ?" The clergy receive us kindly. We call on the 
 Mayor, a fine young gentleman, who takes us to his office, 
 contributes to the object of our mission, and invites us to 
 his house. Mr. Kenny, the Deputy Governor, is equally 
 kind. The citizens in general treat us with great courtesy, 
 and we soon feel quite at home. I preach in the Cathedral 
 on Sunday, and we dine with the Mayor the same evening. 
 
 Monday (August 15) is a holiday, and there is a procession 
 through the principal streets of the Temperance Association, 
 men and boys with scarfs, &c. The procession begins at the 
 Cathedral, and ends there. The Glebe House, where the 
 clergy reside, is close by. The men stop and cheer, and 
 then, to my surprise, the band plays " God save the Queen," 
 and all uncover. Irishmen can be loyal in Nova Scotia, but 
 not at home. 
 
 The loss 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 governor, lost 
 a son, a fine young man. Mr. Patrick Power, member for the 
 city, lost a son, his partner and his nephew. One day, travell- 
 ing in a street car, I saw a nurse in charge of two lovely child- 
 ren, of whom one was in arms. I admired the children, and told 
 her so. "Sir, their father was lost in the ' City of Boston,' " 
 she said. Indeed, wherever we turn we find some person 
 who has to deplore the loss of a relative or friend in the ill- 
 fated ship. 
 
 The Mayor is very kind. There was a regatta on 
 Monday, and in the evening there were public amuse- 
 ments in the Gardens. To these gardens the Mayor took 
 us. It was very pretty. The show was what the papers call 
 a " decided success." There was a band of the 78th High- 
 landers, and several gymnastic feats were performed by 
 soldiers. The whole garden was illuminated by Chinese 
 lanterns, Kerosene lamps, &c., and the attendance was very 
 large. That night twelvemonths I was gazing on the illumi- 
 nations of Paris, in honour of the Fete Napoleon. Had any 
 one told me then, that on the next i5th of August I should 
 be viewing illuminations in Halifax, how surprised I would 
 have been, and what speculations I would have indulged in. 
 as to how such an event was to be accomplished. 
 
 The Hon. Mr. Kenny is a man of great wealth, as well as 
 high position. He is a Kerryman and made his own fortune. 
 He invited us to spend an evening at the house of his daughter- 
 in-law, Mrs. Kenny, which we did. The house was magni- 
 ficent, just over an arm of the sea, and the opposite shore all 
 wooded. The company was very large and embraced clergy, 
 laity and ladies. We had a grand supper at 7 o'clock, and 
 then various amusements, cards, singing, billiards ; every- 
 
 H
 
 98 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 thing was elegant, yet easy and homely. I met some Cork 
 people here and some few who had been in Cork. It was 
 very agreeable to converse with them about the " beautiful 
 citie." Mr. Kenny has invited us to his own house for 
 Friday. In this part of the American continent people 
 generally dine early. The hour for dinner at the hotel is 
 i o'clock, while supper comes off at 6. At Mrs. Kenny's 
 we had not supper, but what is called " high tea," that is to 
 say tea with meats, pastry and fruit somewhat like our 
 dejeuner d la 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 born, 
 to hear him 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 manufactories here, although the natural resources of the 
 country are very great. In the neighbourhood of Halifax 
 are mines of gold, tin, lead, silver, iron, and coal ; there is 
 an abundance of water-power and yet no manufactures. The 
 people complain that the wealthy inhabitants are " close " 
 and unenterprising, and almost three out of every four are 
 anxious ior annexation to the States. 
 
 We dined at Mr. Kenny's own house on Tuesday, the 25th, a 
 beautiful cottage just over the basin already spoken f, and 
 buried in foliage, through vistas of which one can catch charm- 
 ing views 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. Mr. K. sent us 
 home six miles in his own carriage. Mr. Davy, son of the late 
 R. M. of Bantry, was also very attentive to us. He had us to 
 " high tea," which was got up very sumptuously indeed. 
 In a word, we received all manner of kindness in Halifax, 
 and prepared with great regret to leave it. I sent home 
 from here ^200 (the second to the Bishop) by the " City 
 of Baltimore." The more we went amongst the people of 
 Halifax the more reason we had to admire the depth and
 
 ioo 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 
 then, 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. The clergy assured me that the highest in rank were 
 the most exemplary in this respect, which is not always the 
 case. 
 
 We were very hospitably treated by the clergy of 
 Halifax. The Vicar-General, the Rev. Dr. Hannon, in- 
 vited us to dinner. Father Daly, another member of that 
 body, gave us a grand entertainment, at which several of the 
 local gentry were present. Father Allen (a native of Kin- 
 sale) had us to a grand pic-nic at a place called Dutch 
 Village, some three miles from town, a spot exquisitely 
 picturesque. Here also we met a number of lay gentlemen. 
 
 On the last day we spent in Halifax we were invited by the 
 same Father Allen to a " children's pic-nic." This children's 
 pic-nic is quite an American institution. During the summer
 
 THE LAND OF THE BLUE NOSES. 101 
 
 months, the children of the various schools all proceed on a 
 certain day appointed for the purpose, either by railroad or 
 steamer, to some place where they spend the day in all 
 kinds of sports, under the guardianship of some priest or 
 other teacher, then dine in globo ; and again, like the 
 Israelites of old, after feasting, rise to play. Ex uno discc 
 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 couple only recently married, whom we met at Mr. 
 Davis' "high tea " a few evenings before. Mrs. Uwyer 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. rj 
 
 We then go through the grounds, which we find 
 to be splendid. Woods and forests abound in JJova 
 Scotia, and here are fields, surrounded by trees, shut in from 
 all the world. A few hundred children, boys and girls, are
 
 i o 2 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A M ERIC A. 
 
 disporting themselves in various ways. There are several 
 " swing-swongs," where the little ones enjoy the pleasure of 
 oscillation. There are two or three spots covered plentifully 
 with boards, where boys and girls move on the light fan- 
 tastic to the music of a violinist hired for the occasion ; the 
 big boys amuse themselves with foot-ball. Some parents 
 and friends of the children are about, and we see enacted 
 the spectacle described by Goldsmith, of " the young con- 
 tending as the old survey." Father Allen is the presiding 
 genius a good-natured and very gentlemanly young man. 
 Long tables are arranged for the dinner, and there is a 
 respectable staff of servants, for the thing seems to be 
 got up regardless of expense. The children are almost 
 all Irish, either by descent or birth, and while they 
 have lost some, they retain many characteristics of their 
 race. They are very tastefully dressed ; very self- 
 possessed and intelligent. When spoken to, they reply 
 with confidence, and always address themselves to the 
 point. They prefer Irish airs for their dances to all others ; 
 and in their games of contention they display all the viva- 
 city, enthusiasm, and pugnaciousness of the Celt. This 
 latter peculiarity was manifested strikingly in the game of 
 foot-ball. Twenty-four boys played twelve aside, and they 
 called themselves the French and Prussians. The battle 
 raged with as much fury as the contest just now being waged 
 between the original nations they represented. The sym- 
 pathy of the bystanders was strongly carried in favour of the 
 French, but the Prussians fought nevertheless with unflinch- 
 ing pluck. At length of course the French triumphed, and 
 it was hard for the beaten Prussians not to join in the 
 general shouts of congratulation. 
 
 We had a splendid dinner, and when the viands were
 
 THE LAND OF THE BLUE NOSES. 103 
 
 consumed, toasts, speeches and songs followed, in 
 all of which amusement we were obliged, not un- 
 willingly to share. We then adjourned to the house where 
 we met Mrs. and Miss Dwyer, whom we induced to 
 come out on the steps and witness several running matches 
 between the boys on the lawn. These were admirably con- 
 tested, under the admiring gaze of the young girls who 
 ranged themselves in front of the house. Just as the games 
 were contested, a gentleman, accompanied by two ladies, 
 rode on horseback into our midst. These were a Mr. 
 Stubbins, and two cousins of Miss Dwyer namely, the 
 Misses Tobin. We spent the evening with the Mayor's 
 family, and returned about midnight to our hotel. 
 
 Before leaving Halifax, I had an opportunity of seeing one 
 of her Majesty's men of war, the " Royal Alfred," through 
 which I was shown by Mr. Oliver, an Irish gentleman, one of 
 the Admiral's staff, whose acquaintance I had made here. He 
 introduced me to a lieutenant on board, a Mr. Gladstone, 
 nephew to the Premier. I also visited the Citadel and ex- 
 pected to meet there a Dr. Clarke, another Irish gentleman 
 whom I had met at Mr. Davy's. He was not chez lui a.t 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, ^175.
 
 104 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ST. JOHN. GOOD-BYE TO CANADA. 
 
 Thursday, August $th. We leave Halifax by train at 
 6 a.m. The first ten miles are along the basin whose beauties 
 I have already described ; the next nineteen miles lead to 
 Windsor, an important town at the head of the creek, and 
 those nineteen miles present a scene of barrenness as wild as 
 it is possible to imagine, always excepting the desert ot 
 Sahara. The ground is one mass of jagged rock, rising and 
 falling in confusion most confounding, with interjacent 
 herbage, scarcely sufficient to satisfy the cravings of a goat. 
 Trees and forests there are no doubt, stretching far, far 
 away, but for every one that looks green, ten seem charred 
 or withered, as if by some blasting pestilence. In some 
 places whole acres of wood have been cut down and the 
 blighted stumps remain, and will remain, for the land is un- 
 susceptible of tillage. At the termination of this vast 
 wilderness starts up Windsor, a brisk, lively, bright little town, 
 with good streets and a business-like air ; and we see in the 
 creek the masts of ships, and new ones building. 
 
 Away we fly from this little nest of human life, and Nature 
 now, with that caprice for which she is so remarkable, robes 
 herself in the gaudiest fashion 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 Pre, immortalized as the scene of Long- 
 fellow's " Evangeline." The village of Grand Pre is near ; 
 the train pulls up there, and I long to get out and visit the 
 spot from which the perfidious soldiers of Albion banished 
 the guiltless children of this peaceful and happy land. 
 
 But we must on. The scenery from Windsor to Annapolis 
 129 miles is famous for its beauty all over the world ; 
 mountain and vale and endless woods ; the forest primeval ; 
 a broad river, teeming fields, and lazy cattle, some browsing 
 on the herbage, some bathing in the water that seems loath 
 to tear itself away from so much loveliness. We reach Anna- 
 polis, at half-past one, a very small village like Windsor. At 
 the head of a creek we embark. We steam away. The cap- 
 tain is an Irishman of course, one O'Leary from Dunmanway. 
 Co. Cork. At the end of an hour we reach Digby, a very 
 small watering place within the harbour. Having given and 
 taken passengers, we proceed. We pass through the har- 
 bour's mouth, which is very like a mouth indeed, and find 
 ourselves in the Bay of Fundy, a portion of the Atlantic 
 Ocean. 
 
 At Digby we took in a gentleman who was evidently 
 a votary of Bacchus, and who had been very recently 
 pouring libations at the shrine of that merry god. The 
 unfortunate man soon becomes the laughing-stock of every- 
 body. He will talk to every one, and in a very loud way. 
 His perpendicular is constantly seeking the acute angle, and 
 as we sit on deck he topples into our laps one after an- 
 other. We have all to look out for our corns, at least such as
 
 io6 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 have them. He makes a dead set on me. He devotes him- 
 self to me, and imparts all kind of knowledge about the 
 coast, for he has been in the Bay of Fundy, forty, aye, a 
 hundred times. He is continually mistaking the cardinal 
 points, and frequently takes the bow of the boat for the 
 stern, and his information is conveyed in such a jumble of 
 speech, that no one can discern one word from another. 
 He asks every one down to the bar, and as he can get no 
 one to obey he goes himself, and returns after every visit 
 with increased lubricity of tongue, and fresh unsteadiness of 
 understanding; poor man, he becomes an object of universal 
 commiseration, and preached by his -conduct an admirable 
 sermon on the vice of intemperance. 
 
 It is the hour of twilight as we steam up before St. John's. 
 The city is built right on the sea, and looks very pretty, 
 with its lamps, and dim church spires. It is built on an 
 elevation, too low to be called a hill, and too large to be 
 called a mound. The St. John river runs up from this point. 
 On the right hand is the city, on the left the town called 
 Carleton. We land and proceed to the Waverly House, 
 the first hotel in the city, kept by Mr. Guthrie, an Irish 
 Catholic. The Mayor of Halifax, who had been here last 
 week, told us that we would find it hard to get rooms, and 
 so he telegraphed to-day to say we were coming, and begging 
 of Mr. Guthrie to make us comfortable. When our carriage 
 arrived at the hotel, Mr. Guthrie looked through the window, 
 and said in simple language, but with an expressive air, 
 "All right." 
 
 August 26th. At 6 o'clock in the morning I was waked 
 out of my sleep by a noise ; it was only a knocking at my 
 door. " Come in," I cried. It was a young man like a
 
 ST. JOHN. 107 
 
 waiter, with a very long nose. All Paul Prys have long 
 noses. " Well, sir," said he, " Are you Father Buckley 
 from Cork ?" " Yes." " Why, then, sir, if you please," 
 said he, and he spoke, oh ! with such a sweet Cork brogue, 
 " Are you the Father Buckley that was in Drinagh long 
 ago ? " "I am," I said. " Oh, sir, I thought so. The 
 minute I saw your name in the book last night I said it was 
 you. I knew you well, sir, and was often speaking to you 
 there. My name is Donoghue. My father kept a forge in 
 Drimmindy." " Ah, yes," I said, " I remember well." " Oh, 
 Lord, sir," said he, " I am wild with joy at seeing you, and 
 how in the world are you, your reverence?" Lest Mr. 
 Donoghue might manifest his wild joy, in any peculiarly 
 savage, however affectionate manner, I informed him that I 
 would send for him in the course of the day, and have a 
 long chat with him about the old country. He was satisfied, 
 and I resumed my sleep. 
 
 We waited on the Bishop (Sweeny), who lives in a mag- 
 nificent palace close to the Cathedral. This palace is built 
 of stone, and its interior is quite in keeping with the exterior, 
 tasteful, and elegant, and rich. The Bishop himself is a man 
 of middle stature, gentlemanly, and good-humoured. He 
 permitted us to collect, and invited us to dine with him on 
 Sunday. We called on Mrs. Anglin, sister of Mrs. Dwyer, of 
 Halifax, already alluded to, and wife to Mr. Anglin, editor 
 of the St. John's Freeman. She said Mr. Anglin would 
 call on us. So he did. He is a native of Clonakilty, 
 Co. Cork, a thorough Catholic, and Irish patriot. He 
 promised to notice our mission in the Freeman of to-morrow 
 (and did so). 
 
 We visit Mr. MacSweeny, one of the wealthiest Catholic
 
 1 08 DIAR Y OF A TO UR 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 
 issued a summons for some of his neighbours to attend, and 
 the summons was promptly obeyed. Arrangements were 
 made for conducting us through the city. From all I saw I 
 augured that our mission here was likely to be attended 
 with success. 
 
 We call on Dr. Travers, the Bishop's brother-in-law, a 
 member of the Travers family in the County of Cork, 
 and a convert to the Catholic faith. We had a letter of 
 introduction to him, and he receives us with the barest 
 courtesy compatible with the conduct of a gentleman, for 
 tvhich, of course, we are very grateful. After dinner I am
 
 ST. JOHN. 109 
 
 visited by Mr. T. Coghlan, a young 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 A M ERIC A. 
 
 but not many, for St. John contains only a population of 
 35,000*, and is of a comparatively recent growth. There are 
 no manufactories worth talking of, and scarcely any public 
 buildings. One or two small " squares " with their grass and 
 trees relieve the eye ; cars are confined to one point as the 
 streets are hilly, but good carriages may be had for mode- 
 rate fares. This seems to be all that can be said of the 
 city. 
 
 The people are very agreeable in their manners, social, 
 easy, good-humoured and polite. It is very much to be 
 regretted that religious bigotry prevails here to some extent, 
 a far greater extent indeed than the people seem willing 
 to admit. The population is about equally divided between 
 Catholics and all other denominations. The former have 
 only one church the cathedral an ostentatious building 
 erected at an expense far beyond the result in proportion. 
 There are several churches of other religious bodies, whose 
 towers and spires lend apicturesqueness 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 42,000.
 
 . ST. JOHN. in 
 
 Protestant Telegraph and the Catholic Freeman had a smart 
 passage of arms on the religious aspect of the Franco- 
 Prussian War. 
 
 Trade is not active in St. John. Some time ago ship- 
 building was a large source of wealth and prosperity, but 
 it has fallen away. In America the sunlight of commerce 
 seems disposed to shine only on the States; the Dominion 
 languishes in the "cold shade of opposition." Here again, 
 amongst a large section, the 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 born. . I suppose this is owing, in a great 
 measure, to the vivid imagination of our people, who from 
 their infancy upwards picture to themselves in colours even 
 more heightened than reality, the loveliness of Erin and the 
 virtue of her children.
 
 1 1 2 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 In going about from house to house, from garret to garret, 
 I was able to see very clearly the condition of the Irish 
 emigrants, and I regret to say that in few instances was theii 
 condition improved. Many had as well have remained at 
 home, for they live here as in their former dwellings, in 
 poverty, and in no wise different because they have changed 
 their position on the globe. In St. John I met an immense 
 number of people from Cork City and Cork County, the 
 great majority of whom had come out here some eighteen 
 or twenty years ago, few later, but they, save in few 
 instances, had risen to no higher position than that of an 
 humble tradesmen or shopkeeper, while they alone are the 
 hewers of wood and drawers of water. One thing is very 
 clear, as I have already remarked, and it is that the gene- 
 ration who emigrate do not as a rule rise in the social scale, 
 but their children born here, imbibing that love of freedom 
 which, as it were, floats in the atmosphere of America, and 
 meeting their fellow men on the same platform, grow inde- 
 pendent and self-asserting, and become an honour to the 
 land of their ancestors. 
 
 Every day the impression grows deeper and deeper on 
 my mind that the Irish, with all their faults, are the noblest 
 race in all the world ; they have qualities of head and heart 
 superior to the rest of mankind, and but for the centuries 
 of iniquitous persecution to which they were victimised, 
 would long since have displayed those qualities, so as to 
 extort the admiration of their fellovv^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. 1 1. 3 
 
 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 TOO dollars. On the subject of 
 our collection I may say that we realized in St. John 
 altogether the sum of 1,100 dollars and were enabled to 
 send home to the Bishop the third ,200. Nor did we 
 experience any difficulty in making up this large sum of 
 money ; the people gave with great generosity. Not one 
 person said an unkind word, and we met very little mean- 
 ness. The donations in general were small, but everyone 
 gave something. 
 
 I met a great number of Irish people as I passed from 
 house to house, and the vast majority of those I met 
 were from the County or City of Cork, Some knew me, 
 having come within the last few years ; but immigration 
 to St. John has ceased ; people prefer going to the States. 
 Several spoke the Irish language and were delighted to hear 
 me converse in it. I need not repeat all the complimen- 
 tary things they said about my appearance, &c., nor all 
 the loving expressions they used to show their predilection 
 for a priest fresh from the old country. One woman said, 
 " Wisha, hasn't he the rale look of the ould sod." Another, 
 " Oh, then, father, I would like to be following you all 
 day." When we got into a street the news of our coming 
 went abroad. All had their subscriptions ready for us, 
 
 i
 
 1 14 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 and if by chance we passed by any house a messenger 
 was sent after us to remind us of our mistake. Our pro- 
 gress was slow, as we had for the most part to sit down, 
 and tell the people some news of the dear country they 
 had left behind. No one was poor, that is to say, absolutely 
 poor ; even in the humblest houses the good women had 
 their twenty-five or forty cents ready for us, and gave them 
 with a good heart. In many cases they gave and then 
 inquired the object. It was sufficient for them that they 
 gave to an Irish priest. Indeed no words could exaggerate 
 the intense love of religion and fatherland that animates the 
 breasts of the Irish abroad as well as at home. 
 
 We attended a large pic-nic given for the St. Vincent de 
 Paul Society, at a very beautiful place seven miles from 
 town, on the banks of the river " Kennebekasis," a tribu- 
 tary of St. John river. The house and grounds belong to 
 the Bishop, whose mother occupies them at present. A 
 pic-nic such as they have in America is altogether different 
 from ours. It is a means of raising money for some speci- 
 fied object, chiefly charitable. It is advertised that a pic- 
 nic is to come off on such or such a day, at such or such a 
 place, and that the people can go to it either by rail or 
 steamer. The committee hire the rail or steamer for that 
 day for a certain sum, and receive by the sale of tickets 
 a sum that leaves a large surplus to their account. Then 
 there are various sports on the grounds, such as foot-racing, 
 leaping, archery, dancing, quoits, and several other amuse- 
 ments. Tickets are got for admission to the grounds. 
 Refreshments also are to be had, and the total receipts 
 go for the object specified. Great crowds gather on these 
 occasions, and the number varies with the popularity of
 
 ST. JOHN. 1 1 5 
 
 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 
 carnage and pair with Mr. Guthrie, his daughter, and Miss 
 McDonough. Some hundreds were assembled. The day 
 was all that could be desired, the Bishop also was present ; 
 we walked through all the grounds, several persons asked 
 for an introduction, and we were nothing loath to satisfy 
 them. 
 
 A party of us was arranged to go up the St. John river 
 to Fredericton, on Saturday, September 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 hot fie. 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 very pleasant evening, 
 chatting, singing, story-telling, and in what pleases the Ameri- 
 cans beyond anything, in conundrums, good, bad, and 
 indifferent. The morning up to dinner we spent at church. 
 Out of a population of 6,000 scarcely 2,000 are Catholics, 
 and almost all those are Irish. The congregation was very 
 respectable ; there was not a single badly-dressed person in 
 the church. The church itself is decent, quite finished, with 
 a spire, and evidently in the hands of a good and holy 
 priest. We dine at one o'clock, and immediately after 
 prepare to drive out. 
 
 The weather since yesterday has taken a violent and
 
 1 1 8 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 sudden change from hot to cold. It is quite dry and 
 bracing, but the thermometer can scarcely get beyond 
 SO P in the shade. In Fredericton it frequently goes up 
 to 1 00, 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 ;6o,ooo per year. What a falling off in the pros-
 
 ST. JOHN. 119 
 
 parity of the city the loss must create I say " city," for 
 Fredericton is the capital of New Brunswick, and the Parlia- 
 ment of the Province sit here, in a house of wretched 
 style and dimensions. By the way, it is singular that in 
 many parts of America the local Parliaments should sit 
 in places of less than fifth-rate importance. Witness 
 Ottawa in Canada, Albany in New York, and Frederic- 
 ton in New Brunswick. 
 
 About thirty rniles 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 TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 indeed their gowns were of every conceivable colour of the 
 rainbow, and had a very pretty effect to the eye of a spectator. 
 They seemed very bashful, for the moment we addressed 
 them they scattered and fled. I think, however, that their 
 bashfulness arose rather from their ignorance of our language, 
 < for they speak only their own tongue, with the exception of 
 a few who have to transact 'business with their white 
 brethren. A slight shower of rain afforded us a good pre- 
 text for taking refuge in one of their houses, and here again 
 we observed the traces of civilization, for the hut was no 
 longer a wigwam (with which, however, the country abounds) 
 but a decent wooden house small, to be sure, but well 
 built and sufficiently clean. There was a stove, on the top 
 of which was what we call a " bastuble oven," and in the 
 oven, no doubt, a cake was being baked. I observed on 
 the walls two pictures, very highly coloured, one representing 
 the Madonna and Child, the other St. Michael killing the 
 Dragon. Here were the indications of Catholic training 
 and on inquiry I found that everywhere amongst the Indians 
 who have been at all affected by civilization, the Catholic 
 is the prevailing religion. 
 
 A young man stood leaning against the pipe of the stove. 
 He wore a jerry hat, a black velvet coat, much the worse 
 for the wear, of which doubtless he had been made a 
 present of by some one. He spoke English fairly, and 
 without reluctance. Two young women were present, 
 each with a child ; one child her keeper had just taken 
 from an old shawl lying on the ground. A little hammock 
 swung close by the child's cradle ; a small puppy, a duck, 
 and a kitten formed a happy family reposing on the only 
 thing like a bed that lay in the corner. The children
 
 ST. JOHN. 121 
 
 were very different from each other, one rather white, 
 the other extremely sallow, but both with the inevitable 
 black eyes and black hair. We conversed with the man. 
 He was a Catholic, so were all the tribe the " Maniseet." 
 He could read, and had a small book in his own language, 
 the " Gospel of St. John," which he presented to me, and 
 which I now have ; he said he had another. It was trans- 
 lated, he said, by a missionary (Protestant) who came out 
 from England, and learned the language by living amongst 
 the people of this tribe. He never essayed to convert them 
 to the religious views of his sect, content to learn their 
 tongue and strive to help civilization by letting them know 
 the truths of inspiration. 
 
 This young man told us that the Indians subsist during 
 winter by hunting. The moose and the caribou are the 
 favourite objects of their sports. They feed on the flesh 
 and make clothing of the skins or sell it. Of the moose's 
 hair they make exquisite ornaments, for it is dry and 
 hard, and bears the dye well. I have seen some cigar 
 cases made by the Indian women with flowers on the sides 
 of moose hair, and nothing could surpass them for beauty ; 
 other ornaments the women also make and baskets, and the 
 men fish in their canoes. They need little, and that little 
 they can easily make out. Begging comes quite natural to 
 them ; it appears to be a profession almost universally 
 exercised. 
 
 We go to the next house, and here a more curious spectacle 
 meets our eyes. The house consists of only one room, in the 
 middle of which is a stove. Around this stove on the ground are 
 squatted about a dozen women, young and old. A few men 
 are sitting on chairs, as if to indicate the superiority of their
 
 1 2 2 DJAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 sex. In one corner a man and woman are playing a game, 
 and a very curious game it is. Sitting on the floor, a cloth 
 is spread before them, and they have a wooden bowl rather 
 shallow, in which there are about six or eight things like 
 buttons, one side of them is plain white, the other side is 
 dotted with black spots. The man shakes the bowl and 
 tosses the buttons, as a cook may turn a pancake. He then 
 hands it to the woman who performs the same operation. 
 The play seems to consist in an effort to bring all the buttons 
 with the plain or dotted side uppermost without exception. 
 A silly game apparently. They did not desist while we 
 stood at the door except for a moment. A general chatter 
 went round in the Indian tongue, and we were perfectly at 
 sea until one 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 ran a considerable dis- 
 tance. 
 
 We returned to Fredericton very much pleased with our 
 visit to the Indian village. The evening \ve 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. i2th, 
 we rose early, because the boat was to leave at 9 o'clock. 
 The morning was bitterly cold, just like winter, and the 
 wind was skinning, but it was fine and bracing, and on the 
 whole agreeable. I see at one of the wharves a steamer 
 named " Olive." It reminded me of a dear friend far away, 
 of whom that is a pet name. We are escorted to the bo;it 
 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. Jt is a lovely river, broad, sinuous, with flat, grassy 
 banks, great meadows, and beyond ranges of wooded hill
 
 1 2 4 DIAR Y Of A TO UR IN A ME RICA. 
 
 all the way. The scenery is tame, and all around the land 
 is more or less cultivated ; but we see no grand mansions 
 such as adorn the river banks of our rivers in Europe. Art 
 has done little. Nature is left to herself ; but she is always 
 beautiful. At a point called Oromocto, we witness a strange 
 spectacle, one that I never witnessed before. About a 
 quarter of a mile in front of us we see large black bodies 
 projecting out of the water, to the number of about ten 
 or twelve. When we come near we find them moving 
 across the river, and as we approach quite close we dis- 
 cover that they are horses swimming from the mainland 
 to an island in the river. They had to swim at least 
 a quarter of a mile, and some were foals following their 
 dams. The man at the wheel told me it was usual, and 
 directed my attention to a man on the bank who had driven 
 them across. It appears cattle cross in the same manner. 
 When the horses had gotacross they spoiled the good effect of 
 the cleansing they had got by rolling in the sand. 
 
 There are some projections on the river called by strange 
 names, for example, ''The Devil's Back," ''The Minister's 
 Face," and " No Man's Friend." Some places in New 
 Brunswick have very queer names, all of Indian origin. I 
 may instance a few. " Quispamsis," " Nauwigiewauk," 
 " Ossekeag," " Apohaqui,'' " Plumweseep," " Penobsquis," 
 "Magaguadavic," and " Memrancook." The most picturesque 
 part of the St. John River is that which extends to ten miles 
 above the city. The scenery is bold, and trees grow in 
 abundance from the bare rock to a great height over the 
 water. There are a hundred spots of which you would say, 
 " Oh ! if it were given to me to live until the day of my 
 death in that sweet spot, with a competence, and com-
 
 ST. JOHN. 125 
 
 panions of my choice, how happy would I be." It is a pity 
 to spoil the charms of so pretty a thought, but alas ! to 
 darken your pathway would come the clouds, and blasts 
 and snows of winter, and the companions of your choice 
 would die when you would most choose to love them. It is 
 better strive to be happy wherever we may be than to 
 sigh for happiness we cannot attain. Real contentment is 
 a blessing ; imaginary contentment a torture. We had great 
 fun coming down the river, and the Trulls were very much 
 amused by some puzzles we gave them, puzzles familiar 
 to us from our childhood, but apparently quite new to 
 them, such as the fox, goose, and sheaf of corn 
 the eight, six, and five gallon casks the men and their 
 wives crossing the river, the snail, and 14 feet pole, &c., 
 &c. 
 
 But here we are again at St. John, about 3^ o'clock. 
 The city has grown quite familiar to me, and the people nod 
 to me as I pass. I return to it with a kind of affection, 
 for we have received more kindness here than anywhere in 
 our lives before. On our arrival at the hotel, several gentle- 
 men called to see us and pay their respects. Some had 
 called during our absence. There were letters containing 
 donations, and letters inviting us to supper parties. In 
 fact we were missed out of town, as if we were leading 
 citizens. Colonel Drury had called and left a note. The 
 faithful Major McShane was on the watch for our return. 
 We were almost " ovated." We could scarcely get time to 
 dress for an evening party, to which we had been invited 
 by a Mr. Henry Maher whose relatives live near Cork. 
 We got there, however, in time, and his supper was, indeed^ 
 magnificent. On my return to the hotel, I had to begin
 
 1 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, Irish Protestants 
 from the North, who "began at nothing," and are now 
 owners of the " Blackball Line of Packet Ships." The 
 house in question is as fine a mansion as I ever saw, 
 situated on the very topmost summit around St. John, and 
 commanding a splendid view of the city and the sea. The 
 house of the brother is near but not half so grand. Here 
 is also the house of a Mr. Robinson, another self-made 
 man. America is full of such men. We mounted to the 
 "Observatory," which commands a beautiful view, and 
 was once a French camp or fort, until they were driven 
 from it by the English. The celebrated William Cobbett 
 was stationed at this fort, as a private soldier, and 
 found his wife in the neighbourhood. Walking one 
 evening with a friend he saw a young woman washing 
 and then and there resolved that she should be his wife. 
 The matrimonial negotiations were not long doing, as there 
 was not much to win or lose at either side, and the washer- 
 woman was united for life to the philosopher. 
 
 Some few evenings after Mr. Reid, the owner of the grand 
 house, gave a " promenade concert," for a Ragged School, 
 and Mr. Guthrie and Miss Guthrie and I attended. The 
 word Ragged School, to our Irish ears, are suggestive of 
 proselytism. Not so here. The institution is purely charit- 
 able, though it has an unhappy name. It was quite a sensa- 
 tional event in St. John. Everyone went to it. The roads 
 around the demesne were thronged with carriages and foot-
 
 ST. JOHN. 127 
 
 passengers. We entered. The house and grounds were 
 splendidly illuminated with Chinese lanterns. All the 
 avenues were gracefully lit up, and the whole scene looked 
 like fairyland. The night was calm, nay, breathless, 
 and the moon and stars shone out, and beneath the placid 
 sea lay in silver light, as if sleeping after the toils of a 
 tempest. A band played in front of the house, and there 
 was no other amusement worth mentioning. But the 
 people here are easily amused. It must be said also that they 
 are very well conducted, and orderly. I very much fear 
 if such a place were thrown open to our young folks in 
 Cork, the "boys" would not behave themselves with exem- 
 plary propriety, but all went merry as a marriage 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-
 
 1 2 8 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A ME RICA. 
 
 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 belo\v. 
 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 invite my attention is Loch Lomond, 
 a lake more than twenty miles long, by an average breadth 
 of four miles. But, before we reach Loch Lomond, it is 
 resolved that we diverge from the main road, and visit the 
 scene of the Munroe murder.
 
 ST. JOHN. 129 
 
 The circumstances of this murder are so singular that I 
 cannot forbear describing them. In the month of October, 
 1868, a young gentleman named Munroe, about thirty-two 
 years, exercised the profession of architect in the city of 
 St. John. He was of respectable birth and connexion, 
 but his moral character was far from irreproachable. 
 Though a husband and a father, it was generally believed 
 that his wife did not monopolise his affection. Nor was 
 public suspicion incorrect, although the precise object of 
 his attachment was unknown ; and he conceived the 
 desire and formed the determination to rid himself by 
 violent means of the unhappy partner of his guilt: The 
 absence of his wife in Boston presented him with a good 
 opportunity of effecting his purpose. One day he hired a 
 carriage and drove the young lady with her child along this 
 very road which we have just traversed. They arrived at a 
 tavern situated just by the borders of Loch Lomond, and 
 called Bunkei's, from the name of the proprietor. Here they 
 dismounted, and Munroe informed the coachman that he 
 and the lady were about to pay a visit to a friend a Mr. 
 Collins, who lived some short distance off the high road 
 and that they would soon return, except (what was highly 
 probable) that the Collinses would insist on the young lady 
 staying with them for some days. They took their way 
 through a narrow road with thick woods on either sides, and 
 were soon lost to view. After half-an-hour's absence they 
 returned, took some refreshment at Bunkei's, and returned 
 to the city. It is greatly surmised that the unfortunate man 
 intended to commit the murder on that day, but postponed 
 it for some reason ; while some are of opinion that he only 
 came to inspect the ground. He told the coachman that 
 
 K
 
 130 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 the Collinses were not at home, but that they would be in a 
 few days. 
 
 On the following Saturday the same coachman was hired, 
 and the party proceeded as before to Bunkei's. The 
 murderer and his two victims diverged again into the 
 wooded road, and after twenty minutes he returned alone. 
 He took a glass of brandy at the tavern, chatted loudly on 
 the topics of the day, lit a cigar and drove home. Nine 
 months elapsed, and no breath was uttered of the missing 
 young lady, much less of the horrible crime by which her life 
 was sacrificed. 
 
 After the lapse of some long period, however, some 
 niggers who lived in a settlement not far from the scene 
 of the murder, while cutting timber in the wood, sud- 
 denly discovered buried beneath branches of brushwood 
 the bodies of a woman and child very far advanced in de- 
 composition. They gave the alarm, and great excitement 
 was created by the intelligence in St. J*ohn. An inquest 
 was held, but the police could suspect no one for the crime. 
 At length a man named Kane, a person of bad reputation, 
 who could give no account of his missing wife, was arrested ; 
 and the evidence went very hard against him. Munroe still 
 exercised his profession in St. John, and was at this time 
 actually engaged in repairing the gaol wherein poor Kane 
 was confined. A gentleman told me he heard Munroe say 
 that the ruffian who perpetrated so gross a crime deserved 
 to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. Yet he was the coolest 
 man in town during all this fearful investigation. He trusted 
 to his respectability and the influence of his friends, and 
 nothing seemed likely to compromise him. At length 
 the coachman who had driven Munroe and his victims
 
 ST. JOHN. 131 
 
 felt himself bound to reveal all he thought of the trans- 
 action ; and this gave a new and startling aspect to the 
 whole affair. Once that the authorities got the proper scent 
 they hunted up the matter so well that a case of circum- 
 stantial evidence, perhaps the strongest on record, was 
 made out against Munroe. He was tried, found guilty, con- 
 fesssd his crime, and was executed February 5, 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,
 
 i 3 2 DTAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 where we do not stay. We push on to Loch Lomond, 
 and it must in truth be said that it is a magnificent lake. 
 The hills all round are wooded ; the highest is called Ben 
 Lomond. Having never seen the originals of these places 
 of Scotch nomenclature, I cannot draw comparisons ; but 
 I only hope the Scottish scenery is equal to that of its- 
 namesake of New Brunswick. I need not describe the 
 dinner at Mr. M'Sweeny's country house on our return. 
 Suffice to say it was Irish Irish in its style, Irish in its 
 profusion, Irish in the warmth of feeling that existed in 
 the breasts of hosts and guests. Mrs. M 'Sweeny was 
 present, and all her young protegees were with her ; some 
 other ladies also lent a charm to the feast. Champagne 
 flowed profusely, and other wines graced the board. Our 
 host was in high glee, and broke from his taciturnity by re- 
 peated exclamations of delight. I proposed his health, which 
 was drunk with enthusiasm. He tried to respond, but his 
 feelings overpowered him and he burst into tears. When he 
 had sat down and recovered he called it the happiest day of 
 his life, and indulged in various commendations of his 
 reverend guests, which my modesty forbids me to record. 
 After tea we drove back to town, and took a last farewell of 
 Mr. and Mrs. M'Sweeny, the best husband and wife I ever 
 met, and amongst the very best of human kind. 
 
 I should have mentioned that amongst the parties to- 
 which we were invited one of the most elegant was that 
 of the Coghlans. Here I had an opportunity of making 
 the acquaintance of Mr. Coghlan and his daughter, a very 
 agreeable young lady. Mr. Anglin, editor of the Freeman,. 
 gave us a splendid party, quite a sumptuous affair, and 
 the leading citizens were present. One guest is Major
 
 ST. JOHN. 133 
 
 M'Shane, an Irishman, who stays at the " Waverley." He 
 .is a lawyer in town, and an officer in the Volunteers. He 
 is unmarried, is a Catholic, and is a scholar, a virtuous 
 and patriotic gentleman. He takes to us, and becomes 
 a warm, attached, and devoted friend. 
 
 The last hours of our stay in St. John were spent at 
 the hotel where all our friends met in globo. Several 
 gentlemen had called and left P.P.C. (pour frendre conge) 
 cards during the day, and some had left their subscriptions. 
 One poor woman, who had not seen us hitherto, called to 
 ask our blessing before parting; she was from Cork. In 
 fact the last few hours were essentially sensational, and as 
 hilarity waxed fast and furious the hours grew on and it was 
 one o'clock before v/e v.-ere permitted to retire. We had to 
 rise next morning at the early hour of 6 to do our packing 
 by 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
 
 i 3 4 DJAR Y 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. J ohn are buried 
 in mist. The morning is soft, breathless and balmy, and the 
 sea is gentle as a slumbering babe. 
 
 We steam slowly away, and the very silence of our pas- 
 sage through the water calls up by contrast the excitement 
 of the past three weeks. I feel a disposition to gloom, but 
 strive to shake it off. We go once more to a land of 
 strangers, and we know not what our success may be. We 
 look around amongst the passengers, and we who were 
 so feted and feasted during the previous weeks, nay months,, 
 see no familiar face. All are strange ; none known us, and 
 we know none. Our spirits would droop if we let them, 
 but we argue that we have heretofore had those feelings of 
 despondency, and that we fared better than we anticipated. 
 Who knows what good luck may be in store for us yet. 
 
 Here is "Partridge Island," just in the harbour. It was- 
 to St. John what Grose Isle was to Quebec the quarantine 
 of the Irish during the year of plague, and their burial 
 place. Some thousands of our countrymen lie buried in 
 this small island. 
 
 The scenery from St. John to Portland for Portland 
 (Maine) is the place of our next visit is not of remark- 
 able interest. The vessel coasts the whole way as far as 
 Eastport, by the New Brunswick shore, keeping very close
 
 ST. JOHN. 135 
 
 The weather is so fine that she can keep close. There is 
 nothing to note about the coast. It is low, woody, and the 
 soil is bad. We reach Lubeclr, 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.
 
 1 3 6 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A M ERIC A. 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA," AND SOME OF THE ATHENIANS. 
 
 Sept. i$th. At four o'clock we are awakened by the 
 noise of a gong and the cry of " Portland." We dress as 
 hastily and get on shore. The city lies along the shore a 
 great length. We see it only dimly in the twilight, but it 
 looks very important with its numerous 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 a " hack," and proceed to our hotel, the " St. Julian," 
 a distance of about a quarter of a mile, for which the cab- 
 man charges us two dollars, the first striking indication that 
 we had got into the States. 
 
 We dress and strive to look bright after our voyage and 
 the shortcomings of Morpheus' visitations, and come down 
 to breakfast The weather is very warm, and flies are 
 abundant. We are amused by the circumstance of a wait- 
 ress standing at our table during the meal, with a large fan 
 brushing off the flies, and cooling us at the same time. I 
 could not help remarking it was " rather cool." 
 
 What are we to do in Portland ? To collect ? I am 
 opposed to it ; but I press my opposition gently. We 
 have a letter of introduction to a Father O'Callaghan, 
 one of the priests of the place. The Irish population 
 of Portland is not much, and larger fields are open 
 before us elsewhere. There is Boston only five hours 
 journey from us and full of Irish. My wish is to go there.
 
 THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 137 
 
 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 
 easy. We reach the episcopal palace, and well worthy 
 of the name is that magnificent building. We were told 
 it contained forty bedrooms. The Cathedral is just at hand. 
 They are both built of red brick, but the interior of each is 
 .simply superb. " Is Father O'Callaghan at home?" "No," 
 replies the servant, " nor will he be at home for days." " Is 
 the Bishop at home ? " " Yes, but he cannot be seen just 
 now ; if you call at two I guess you can see him then right 
 off." Despondent and gloomy we retire to our hotel. We 
 can scarcely admire the splendour of the streets, for they are 
 splendid. The first cloud has crossed our horizon and we 
 are impatient with it. 
 
 We call at two and see the Bishop. He is a very gentle- 
 manly middle aged man, with regular round features, a 
 very good expression, bald head and white hair on his 
 poll. His dress is that of a layman, shirt and collar, 
 white socks, and shoes with silk strings, and nothing 
 indicates his profession save the large ring on the fourth 
 finger of the right hand. This is Doctor Bacon, first Bishop 
 of Portland. We announce our mission. He smiles and 
 shakes his head. " I cannot allow it in fact, I forbid it," 
 he says with decided firmness. He then went into a long 
 statement of the wants of the American Church and the 
 burden which lay upon the people everywhere. The Bishops 
 of America, he said, had resolved peremptorily to refuse all 
 patronage to beggars. The market was drugged with them. 
 What claim had we on the people ? "They are Irish, you say;
 
 138 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 then why not keep them at home ; we have the burden of 
 them ; they are poor, and we want all their resources to- 
 provide for their spiritual wants." We remained respectfully 
 silent, and then bowed ourselves out. But we thought it hard 
 that Bishop Bacon should have undertaken to answer for all 
 the bishops of America. 
 
 We resolved to leave for Boston immediately. We 
 see nothing to encourage our staying here. We could 
 scarcely see an Irish name over any shop. The Catholic 
 population is only 6,000 and they are poor. We spent 
 the evening strolling through the streets. The greater 
 part of this city was burnt three years ago, but it has beeie 
 rebuilt on a sumptuous and magnificent scale. The Post 
 Office, which is nearly completed, is a structure of immense 
 beauty j a square edifice, Grecian in style and built of white 
 polished marble. Throughout Portland there is the unmis- 
 takable Yankee bustle; the genius of the dollar animates the 
 place, and the Briareus of Commerce moves his hundred 
 
 hands. 
 
 September i6t/i. At 3 o'clock this afternoon we leave for 
 
 Boston by " the Cars ;" the lower road ; distance 1 1 1 miles ; 
 time five hours. The country is not good-looking, although 
 here and there we see some vast meadows and wooded up- 
 lands. The soil, for the most part, is sandy and scarcely an 
 inch deep. Amongst the underwood in some places we are 
 struck by the blood-red tint of the leaves of some trees ; the 
 effect is striking and pretty. On the route are some pretty 
 towns, such as Biddeford, Kittry and Ipswich. It grew 
 dark about 6 so we could see no more. We reach the 
 " Parker House," a magnificent hotel, of which I may say 
 more as we go on. There is great bustle in tlie spacious
 
 THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 139 
 
 hall, occasioned by the constant thronging in and out of 
 guests. Having made our toilette we entered the drawing- 
 room, a superb affair, and sit down. The waiters stare at us 
 and smile, and soon a round half-dozen fresh ones come in 
 and parade before our table. On enquiring we found out 
 that I am known to some of them and they come to make 
 assurance doubly sure. After tea the head porter, a man 
 named Barrett, addressed me by name. He is from the 
 parish of Blackrock and was at home two years ago, when 
 he often heard me preach. He inquires tenderly for Father 
 James, whom he enthuastically describes as "a great man." 
 Another man, a waiter named White, knew me well in Ban- 
 don, where he was a waiter at 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 lythi 1870. How will Bishop Williams receive 
 us? nous vcrrons. After breakfast a fine carriage and pair is 
 waiting at the hotel door to convey us to the palace. We 
 find this was " arranged " by Barrett, the head porter, who 
 understood our want and provided for it at his own expense 
 We drive to the Bishop's; we reach the house a very 
 modest unpretentious house ; we enter; within it is the same 
 This argues well. At least we shall not meet a Bishop such 
 as he of Portland. We send up our cards and the Bishop 
 comes down, in his soutane. He receives us civilly and
 
 140 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 asks us up stairs. I briefly state the object of our mission ; 
 lie listens and then says, " Gentlemen, I can give you no 
 encouragement ; were I to do so, I should injure our own 
 charities, which are abundant and pressing enough ; we are, 
 as you see, building a great Cathedral, it exhausts all our 
 resources. In a few weeks I shall be making the annual 
 appeal for it ; I could not therefore, in decency, make or allow 
 to be made an appeal for you, but I do not forbid you to 
 collect as much as you can ; we owe all to the Irish people, 
 and especially to the people of Cork. I owe them a debt 
 of gratitude do your best. Publish in the Pilot that you 
 have my permission. What the people give to you will not 
 stand in their way when we make our usual appeals to 
 their charity. I shall give you a letter certifying that you 
 liave my authority to exercise priestly functions while in 
 Boston." The cloud begins to disappear. 
 
 We next proceed to the office of Mr. Patrick Donahoe, 
 of the Boston Pilot. I explained our mission, and reported 
 the Bishop's conversation with us. Mr. Donahoe imme- 
 diately wrote a paragraph for the paper, which was just 
 being printed, and promised a larger notice in the next 
 number. He told us it would be well to have a paragraph 
 also in the Herald. So we went off and followed his advice. 
 We were determined to lose no time. Wonderful is the 
 progress of Catholicity in this country. In the year 1810 
 there was not a single Catholic, much less a Catholic priest 
 or church, in all New England a country embracing six 
 States viz., Maine, Vermont, New Hampshire, Massa- 
 chussets, Connecticut, and Rhode Island. Now there are 
 five dioceses in these States. In Boston alone there are 
 ioo,ooo Catholics and twelve churches, and the professors
 
 THE ' ' A THENS OF AMERICA -" 1 4 r 
 
 of Catholicity are by a. sweeping majority either Irish or the 
 descendants of Irish, the Catholics of other nationalities- 
 being infinitely few. Ireland has achieved miracles for the 
 faith in America. 
 
 We travel again in the street cars. The Americans talk 
 much of their respect for women, and in hotels and steam- 
 boats there is an ostentatious display of regard for the sex.. 
 There are ladies' drawing-rooms and ladies' staircases, and 
 ladies are always accommodated with the first floor. In- 
 large cities special policemen are told off to conduct ladies 
 across crowded streets, lest they come in contact with horses- 
 or waggons. All very well ; but the Yankees prefer their 
 own comfort to the display of politeness. This setting aside- 
 of special chambers and special policemen for the conveni- 
 ence of the sex is very pretty, and does not hurt anyone. 
 But take the street car, for example. A number of gentle- 
 men fill the car ; a lady enters, and in very few instances- 
 will a Yankee rise to offer her a seat. An Irishman will 
 show this politeness, but the lady does not thank him, and 
 the Yankee rather despises him. An anecdote I read 
 on this point is rather amusing. A Yankee is represented- 
 as saying, "The fair sex are entitled to all the attentions 
 man can bestow upon them. Thus, when a lady enters a 
 street car, I am shocked to observe the coolness with which 
 men retain their seats, and permit her to stand all the time- 
 For my part, when a lady comes into a crowded street car in- 
 my presence, I look around me to see will anyone rise ; I 
 see, alas ! that no one has the decency to do so. Shame 
 overcomes me. I bury my face in my newspaper, and blush- 
 for my sex." 
 
 In Boston I met many Irishmen well to do, and when I
 
 1 4 2 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A ME RICA. 
 
 asked, to what do you attribute your success in life, such as it 
 is ? their answer is, I worked hard, and I was a teetotaler. The 
 drunkard is idle ; he does not respect himself. No one 
 employs a drunkard, because no employer can depend on 
 him. One man, a shoemaker, said to me, in his own way, 
 " I made the first pair of shoes ever I wore. I then began 
 to make them for others, and from that day to this, thank 
 God, I never saw the bottom of my purse." This head- 
 porter, Barrett, said : " I am nineteen years out here ; I 
 would live in Ireland if I could, but there is nothing for me 
 to do there. I never possessed a cent in America that I did 
 not work for. Here is work for all, if they only wish to do 
 it. I never taste intoxicating drinks. I send money to my 
 father and friends, and have more than enough for myself." 
 
 Another obstacle to the Irishman's success is, the Yankees 
 hate him. They regard him as one made to work. Of 
 course they see around them every day Irishmen who have 
 risen, but that does not remove their ingrained prejudice 
 against the race. Where headwork is necessary they will 
 not employ an Irishman, if they can help it ; but where they 
 want labour they will engage Paddy as they would a dray- 
 horse. If an Irishman achieve any daring deed, they will 
 not admire his valour or pluck. They call him that wild 
 Irishman, that madman, or fool ; whereas if an Englishman 
 or one of themselves accomplished the same, they would 
 make the world ring with his praises. 
 
 Thus, within the last few days a Mr. John Charles Buck- 
 ley has arrived in Boston, after having performed one of the 
 most astounding feats recorded in the history of navigation. 
 He left Queenstown in a small craft not much bigger than a 
 whaleboat, called the " City of Ragusa," accompanied by a
 
 THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 143 
 
 man and a dog, and steered for America. The voyage 
 extended to ninety days, at the end of which time he 
 reached this city, safe and sound, with his human friend, 
 but deprived by death of his canine companion. He is 
 exhibiting his boat here, and realizes a good deal by it. 
 And yet the papers make no flourish about this wonderful 
 achievement, and the man is not regarded as anything more 
 than a madcap he is only " a wild Irishman ; " whereas if 
 he had been a John Bull, or a Jonathan, what a cry would 
 be raised to extol his indomitable perseverance and his 
 unflinching courage. Some go so far as to deny that he 
 ever performed the voyage. They say he was picked up 
 with his boat arid brought along somewhat in the style of 
 Darby Doyle in his famous voyage to Quebec. But, never 
 mind. As I have said elsewhere, our countrymen are 
 capable of distinguishing themselves in every department, 
 whether for good or evil. Few will approve of Captain 
 Buckley's foolhardiness ; but where will you find so fool- 
 hardy a Jonathan or a Bull ? As soon as the gallant Captain 
 landed he was interviewed by the Press. A long account 
 of his voyage was inserted in the Boston Herald. 
 
 It is very hard to form a correct notion as to the advice 
 which ought to be tendered to the Irish people wishing to 
 immigrate here. I make it a point to ask everyone I meet 
 what is his opinion on the subject, and their invariable 
 answer is " Let no Irishman come to this country who can 
 make a livelihood at home/' There is more happiness in 
 the old county, more sociality, more friendship, more 
 chance of saving one's soul. Come to America, and you 
 must work hard, and work without ceasing. In summer the 
 heat is so killing that you would wish it would kill you out-
 
 144 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 right, and not mock you with only the phantom of death. 
 In winter the cold is so bitter that you long for the summer, 
 with all its calorific terrors. I called to see a young woman, 
 the sister of my servant, Ellen Colbert. This young woman- 
 left Ireland about three years ago. I remember her then. 
 She was a fine young, healthy, rosy-faced peasant girl, with 
 a face like a very ripe peach, such as we see in America. 
 "Ah," said I to her, "I fear you will lose that fine com- 
 plexion of yours when you shall have crossed the Atlantic."' 
 My words were verified ; I saw her this day. She was pale, 
 and the perspiration sparkled like dew-drops all over her 
 face. "Ah, sir," said she, " many a time since have I 
 thought of your words, that my complexion would fade in 
 America." 
 
 " Would you advise your sister Ellen to come to this 
 country ? " 
 
 " No, sir a thousand times no. If she can live at home 
 on half a loaf, it is better than to live here upon t\vo loaves. 
 At home there is some pleasure here, it is nothing but 
 work, work, work." I thought of the words of Tennyson : 
 " Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay ! " 
 
 And yet, in conversation with a very respectable and 
 wealthy man, who left Cork in the year 1843, when he was 
 nineteen years old, and made a fortune here, I was taught 
 to reconsider my notions on this subject of emigration 
 "Sir," said he, "If it were possible for me to put all the 
 Irish people into one vessel, I would bring them all over, 
 and plant them in America. This is the country to live 
 in a free country, where labour is prized and rewarded, 
 and where every man is the equal of his fellow." It is hard 
 to form a conclusion ; but I write my impressions just as
 
 THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 145 
 
 they are made, fairly and dispassionately, nothing extenu- 
 ating, nought setting down in malice. They will probably 
 become more worthy of estimation as I go on. 
 
 Sept. 1 8. We officiate in St. James' Church, Albany- 
 street. I go first to Charlestown, and stand under the 
 monument on Bunker's Hill. A large pyramid of granite 
 221 feet high and thirty feet square at the base, marks the 
 scene of the great battle, in which so much of the interests 
 of America have been involved. 
 
 I then go to Cambridge, to see the parish priest, Father 
 Scully, a Corkman, whom I met at home last February. I 
 find him in his church, a very beautiful one, and presiding 
 at catechism, where there are about 1,000 children present 
 of both sexes. He takes us into his house, is extremely 
 kind and hospitable, invites us to stay with him while we 
 remain here. We decline this invitation, because Cam- 
 bridge is " out of town." He opens our subscription list 
 with a handsome donation, and promises every assistance 
 in his power. The prospect begins to brighten. 
 
 Sept. 19, Monday. We begin operations to-day by hiring 
 a carriage, and telling the driver to take us to the principal 
 Catholic citizens. To be brief, we receive 180 dollars the 
 first day. On my return to the hotel, I find a card for me, 
 "John Charles Buckley, Knight 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 AMERICA:' 147 
 
 very solid but the Captain did not much care for logic. He 
 had a father, mother and sister ; he told them nothing about 
 it. He loved peril he had been volunteer for the Pope, 
 and fought at Ancona, because he liked the excitement of 
 the tiling. " 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 structure 
 of the smallest wooden walls that ever encountered a bom- 
 bardment by the waves. Captain Buckley strove to prove 
 his relationship to me, but even his voyage was an easier 
 task than this. 
 
 Sept. 2oth. 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
 
 1 48 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 all 
 equally kind. One house we passed by because we saw the 
 name " Archamleau," and did not care to call upon any but 
 Irish. When, however, we had passed the door a woman ran 
 out and followed us. She called us in and in a very Irish 
 accent rebuked us for passing. This was Madame Archam- 
 leau, a County Cork woman married to a Frenchman. We 
 fared well here, for the wife subscribed and insisted on 
 Monsieur subscribing for himself. 
 
 The mosquitoes have fearfully disfigured my hands and 
 face. I had no notion that they paid their visits so late in 
 the year. They have made me a special victim. The first, 
 morning I woke in Portland I observed my hands were full 
 of sores like " hives," and that my forehead had got a great 
 increase of bumps. I thought it was " summer heat," but 
 soon found that it was the work of mosquitoes during the 
 night. The sensation of itchiness is perfectly intolerable. 
 Those creatures cannot be seen at night, bat when I wake I 
 hear them buzzing about my head, and every morning reveals 
 new mischief at their hands on mine. I must have patience 
 with them as with other crosses. 
 
 September z^th. At the invitation of Father Scully of 
 Cambridge, to whom I have already alluded, I preach in 
 St. Mary's at High Mass. A large and attentive congrega- 
 tion all Irish. I announce that I am to " go around " 
 during the week. I do go around, and raise a very respect-
 
 THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA:' 149 
 
 able sum. The hot weather appears to me to be one of the 
 most unpleasant things to be encountered in this country. 
 Now at the end of September, it is simply intolerable. I 
 sit with Father Scully in his garden : the air is dense, and 
 there is not a breath of wind. I can do nothing but sit and 
 perspire and look at my hands all sore with mosquito bites. 
 At length the sky becomes dark as night, and a fearful 
 thunder-storm takes place, like those I have already de- 
 scribed in Montreal and Quebec. It rains in oceans, but 
 after an hour all is dry and warm as before. 
 
 The following day in going about from house to house I 
 go into several rooms where there are stoves. How any 
 .human beings can bear the heat of those stoves in such 
 weather is to me inconceivable. I cannot go beyond the 
 door the rooms are hot as a Turkish bath and how do 
 those poor infants live in cradles within a foot of such 
 furnaces, all wrapped up in warm clothing ? This Cambridge 
 is a pretty place ; the houses, to be sure, are all of wood, 
 but they are elegant in style and warm and durable 
 almost as stone. The damp has little effect on them for the 
 .seasons are nearly always dry. There are little gardens in 
 front, and the streets are regular, and lined on both sides 
 with trees I mean the suburban streets. Indeed, Cambridge 
 is almost buried in foliage. Yet in some of those houses 
 live very poor people, all Irish. There is none of that 
 .squalor and filth we see in the old country, but there is 
 poverty hiding itself in clean rags. On the other hand there 
 are Irishmen very rich and well-to-do, and a great number 
 very " comfortable." I enter one house, that of an Irish- 
 man from Clare, named Griffin. A very pretty garden fronts 
 .his house, and all around the house itself are wall-trees, such
 
 150 DJARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 as ivy and other creepers, conspicuous amongst which is the 
 vine all thick with ripe grapes. Mr. and Mrs. Griffin give 
 me a hearty welcome, and their drawing-room is as pretty as- 
 anyone could desire. They fetch a large basket containing 
 fruit, the most delicious pears of their own growth and a huge 
 cluster of grapes ; they also produce a bottle of their own 
 wine, made by themselves, and I am glad to taste it so that 
 I may be able to say that I drank the genuine juice of the 
 grape once in my life. This couple were very happy, and 
 blessed Providence in a truly Christian spirit for the comforts 
 with which they had been enriched. Need I say that I 
 wished them a continuance of such happiness? 
 
 Father Scully is beloved by the people, and justly. He 
 is an excellent priest, and has provided amply for the religious 
 and educational wants of his flock. His house is very pretty 
 white with green blinds outside the windows, and with a 
 very charming colonnade, Grecian style, forming a piazza all 
 around, and separated by a lovely garden in which fruit 
 trees abound. Yet he is happy only on principle. His 
 heart is in Ireland. 
 
 The American priests have no society, they are thrown 
 completely on themselves, and no consideration reconciles 
 them to their ostracism but the high obligation of their sacred 
 duties. 
 
 The poet, Longfellow, lives at Cambridge. I am most 
 anxious to see and converse with him, if only for a short 
 time. I was in the house of Mr. Luby. Said I, " Would 
 you kindly tell me where does the poet Longfellow live ? 
 
 "Longfellow, Father? Oh, bless you, he is dead this 
 many a day ! " 
 
 M God help us," thought I, " no man is a prophet in his
 
 THE " A THENS OF AMERICA." 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 AMERICA. 
 
 off," or " right away." Some Irish folks who come hither 
 in their maturer years, never alter their accent or language 
 in the least, always excepting the use of " I guess," and 
 " right away." But young girls in a very short time become 
 perfect Yankees in speech and accent. I met one whom I 
 had known at home in a country district, the daughter of a 
 farm-labourer, eight years ago ; she was now married, was 
 smartly dressed, and thoroughly Yankeefied in fact, she 
 spoke so grandly, that I grew quite ashamed of my Cork 
 accent in comparison with hers. What she had done with 
 her own Cork accent I could never imagine. 
 
 It is very much to be deplored that in America the Irish 
 are extremely " clannish." The Northerns look down on 
 the Southerns, and both dislike the Connaught-folk. The 
 " far-downs," /. e., the Northerns, are despised by the 
 " Corkeys," while the latter are odious to the former in a 
 similar degree. 
 
 All, when spoken to on the subject, admit how baneful 
 these distinctions are, but all act alike in accordance with 
 them. What curse is on our people, that dissension must 
 be the brand of their race at home and abroad ? 
 
 Sunday, October 2. This evening I deliver my lecture 
 on the Bible to a dense audience. The Church was literally 
 crammed. Mr. Boyle O'Reilly was present, a young gentle- 
 man of rather chequered career. He had been at one 
 period of his life a soldier. During the Fenian agitation he 
 was arrested on suspicion of corrupting the allegiance of his 
 fellow-soldiers. He was tried by court-martial in Dublin 
 and sentenced to transportation for life. He was imprisoned 
 in Millbank, escaped, and was apprehended. He was then 
 removed to a prison in Chatham, whence he also effected
 
 THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA: 153 
 
 his escape. To lessen his chance of eluding his gaolers he 
 was removed to Australia, but there he was more successful 
 than ever, for he escaped to some purpose, having by a 
 variety of adventures found his way to the protection of the 
 " Star-spangled Banner."* He will give my lecture a favour- 
 able notice in the Pilot. 
 
 The president of the United States visited Boston a few 
 days ago, for the purpose of placing his son at Cambridge 
 University. He put up at St. James's Hotel. As he came 
 in a private capacity, his arrival created no sensation. There 
 was no demonstration of any kind, except a few flags hung 
 out in some places. There were no salvoes of artillery, and 
 no addresses from mayors or corporations. The President 
 was allowed to smoke his Havanna in peace, and he was not 
 worried by bores, or interviewed by " gentlemen of the 
 Press." That was a blessing. Well for him he was not a 
 monarch, such as we have in Europe, or even a monarch's 
 shadow, he would be grudged the very slumbers demanded 
 by inexorable nature. That evening the President went to 
 the "Globe" Theatre, and a large crowd of roughs filled the 
 streets to catch a sight of " Ulysses," but few enjoyed the 
 pleasure. On reaching his box a faint clap proclaimed a 
 welcome, but beyond this gentle demonstration, Democracy 
 was too proud to venture. 
 
 This was a lovely day ; the great heat of the weather nay 
 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 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 balmy. I had arranged to visit Harvard University in com- 
 pany with Mr. Aloysius J. Kane, of the law school, a Roman 
 Catholic young gentleman, whose acquaintance I had made 
 at St. John, N.B. He was to meet me at Father Scully's. 
 True to his appointment he came, and we both walked a 
 short distance to the University. Cambridge is a large 
 place, and embraces various divisions, such as Old Cam- 
 bridge, East Cambridge and Cambridge-port. I have stated 
 elsewhere that the whole place is buried in foliage. The 
 University is peculiarly so. Jt 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 him 
 whom I suppose to have given it an endowment Christopher 
 Gore, whose marble bust stands within. It is built in the 
 style of a Gothic church, and is nothing more or less than 
 the library, containing 120,000 vols. Between these build- 
 ings are large grass plots intersected by walks running in 
 various directions. The students have no peculiar costume. 
 The American idea is opposed to all kinds of insignia, 
 because they distinguish one man from another, and that 
 would not be democratic. The president's house is within 
 the grounds. We called, and sent in our cards. After a 
 short time Mr. President Elliott appeared, quite a young 
 man. I had seen him a few hours before in one of the 
 streets, and had passed him without knowing who or what 
 he was. I told him so, and he said he had seen me too, 
 and was equally at a loss to know who I was. He was very 
 polite, and volunteered all kinds of assistance in having me 
 shown through the place, but I did not wish to put him to-
 
 THE " A THENS OF AMERICA." 1 3 5 
 
 any trouble. I said I called merely that I might do myself 
 the honour of making the acquaintance of the president of 
 so great a university. After some desultory and unimportant 
 conversation, I retired with Mr. Kane. We visited the 
 various schools. The number of students attending the 
 university last year was 1,200. 
 
 We next proceeded to visit the great American poet, 
 Henry W. Longfellow, who lives in the immediate neigh- 
 bourhood of the university. This was an honour I was 
 long ambitious to enjoy ; for in common, I believe, with all 
 readers, I admire his poems excessively, and I have con- 
 ceived from their perusal a love and esteem of the soul 
 from which such pure outpourings of thought have flowed, 
 and assumed forms of rarest dignity aud beauty, at the 
 magic touch of language. We walked along under the 
 trees, and saw in an open square a large monument just 
 erected to commemorate the death on the late battlefields of 
 America of the soldiers of Cambridge. On the summit of 
 the monument stands an ideal soldier, leaning on his gun, 
 and on the slabs beneath are the names of the fallen. Of 
 these more than one-half are Irish. We walk still further, 
 and reach another open space, where is an immense tree 
 enclosed by railings, outside of which stands a large stone, 
 with words inscribed as follows : " Beneath this tree 
 Washington first took command of the American army, 
 1772." 
 
 We find ourselves in Bratle-slreet, which is not a street 
 according to our notion that is, a succession of houses 
 fronting the public way. It is rather a road, off which are 
 detached suburban villas. In one of those villas Washington 
 lived. We see it from the roadside. It is a large, old-
 
 156 f DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A MERICA. 
 
 fashioned house, evidently much the senior of its wooden 
 neighbours, with grass-plots and flower-beds in front, and a 
 conservatory at one side. This is the house now occupied 
 by Longfellow. We knock at the hall-door, and a servant 
 -appears. We send in our cards, and are instantly permitted 
 to enter. There are two gentlemen in the large room, of 
 whom one stands writing at a desk, and the other approaches 
 us. In the features of the latter I recognise those of the 
 poet, with which the infallible photograph has made me 
 familiar. He is tall, but not remarkably so, and his head is 
 the great object of the spectator's regard. A large, well- 
 .shaped head, with very regular features, an expressive 
 forehead, eyes, I think, blue, a very bushy white beard and 
 moustache, and long white locks, flowing loosely behind. 
 His expression is mild and calm, and his demeanour singu- 
 larly modest. 
 
 "Sir," I said, " being a stranger in Boston I could not 
 think of leaving without doing myself the honour and pleasure 
 of paying my respects to you, the great American poet, and 
 -of thanking you for all the pleasure I have derived from the 
 perusal of your works." 
 
 " Sir," he answered, " you are very kind. I have been 
 forewarned of your visit by a gentleman from Cork, who 
 came to see me a few days ago.' ' 
 
 In conversing with Mr. Longfellow, he asked me had I 
 seen the University, and I said I had. I told how I had 
 seen the President in the morning without knowing who he 
 was." 
 
 " Yes," said he, " Nature seldom helps us to discover a 
 man's rank or genius." 
 
 I replied that it was so, and that in his own poem The
 
 THE ' ' A THENS OF AMERICA." 1 5 7 
 
 Belfry of Bruges, there were some thoughts expressive of the 
 same idea. I had forgotten the words, but the idea was that 
 the common wanderer through the streets at night hears the 
 chimes, and can discover nothing in the sound, while the 
 poet on hearing them revels in a thousand strange and 
 delightful fancies. 
 
 " Have you been to Bruges ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, sir," I replied, "I was there last year and I well 
 remember in my bed at night keeping myself awake that, like 
 you, I might hear the chimes at the midnight hour, and 
 conjure up the thoughts with which they inspired you." 
 
 I am by nature very averse to flattery. I hate to give or 
 to receive it : but I could not resist the temptation to convey 
 my feelings of affection and admiration for him who sat 
 before me, the great mind that had moulded such thoughts, 
 and clothed them in such exquisite language. He dwelt on 
 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, 
 which, as I saw by the papers, he had visited last year, and 
 to my astonishment, he told me he had never seen them ! 
 He had seen an account of his travels in Ireland in the
 
 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 you, and 
 how she will envy me that honour ! This very morning I 
 received from her a letter in reply to mine which I sent some 
 weeks ago, describing my passage through Grand Pre, and 
 she says that once more she took Evangcline 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 School Days, was 
 invited to lecture at the Music Hall, and being an English- 
 man and a politician, and above all an author, he was greeted
 
 THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 159 
 
 with an immense, an overflowing audience. The subject of 
 his lecture was "John to Jonathan," or in other words, 
 " What England had to say to America." He had been in the 
 country for two months and had received most profuse and 
 cordial hospitality everywhere, but when he mentioned the 
 name of his country a shadow came over the kind faces. 
 Xow 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 
 Avars. 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 
 is your own father ///" (Where is the paternity of Ger- 
 many, and of Ireland ?) " should happen some day to want " 
 (Here Mr. Hughes' voice faltered with emotion and the 
 audience burst forth in sympathetic applause) " a name .on 
 the back of one of those bills, I for one should not wonder if 
 
 * Plainly Mr. Hughes' reading of the situation was the right one here. 
 And it may be said, too, that while the English governing classes and 
 their organs were Southern, the English Democracy, even including the 
 Lancashire cotton-spinners, sympathised strongly with the North.
 
 160 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 the name of Jonathan is found scrawled across there in very 
 decided characters." " Hurrah ! hurrah ! " shouts Yankee- 
 dom, " hurrah ! hurrah !" Mr. Hughes was successful, he 
 offered Jonathan a sugar-plum and Jonathan swallowed it 
 with the gusto of a child. The most distinguished citizens 
 were present and some remarkable strangers. The poet 
 Longfellow was conspicuous in his chosen obscurity by his 
 copious white hair, and loud cries for Sumner after the lecture 
 indicated the presence of that popular statesman. 
 
 Such, also, was the character of the American's mind in 
 relation to Charles Dickens in his American Notes. He 
 said some hard things of Jonathan, and Jonathan was very 
 angry but years rolled by and the great novelist came and 
 made the amende. He was sorry for what he had said, he 
 was mistaken and all that; and the Yankees forgave him. 
 They went further, they took to worshipping him, and when 
 he died the event caused a far greater sensation in America 
 than in England. The pulpits rang with his praises the 
 morality of his life and writings was held up to admiration, 
 and in America, the ridiculed of Boz the repentant lecturer 
 found at last his apotheosis. 
 
 Pulpits ! alas for the pulpits. Read one of Monday 
 morning's New York papers, where all the sermons of all 
 the churches preached the previous day are summarized, 
 and what a medley ! I take up by chance last Monday's, the 
 " leader " on the sermons sufficiently explains their variety 
 of characters, and I shall merely quote it word for word : 
 *' There was a marked increase in the number of attendance 
 at church yesterday. Every place of worship was crowded. 
 Resplendent fashion, having temporarily retired from Paris, 
 shone in all her original grandeur, until it became, a difficult
 
 THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 161 
 
 matter to say whether the dresses or the sermons were the 
 best, both, in some of the churches, being the last sensation. 
 The Rev. Mr. Hepworth, at the church of the Messiah, 
 delivered his third lecture on ' The Moral Aspect of 
 Europe,' in which he gave Napoleon some very hard raps ; 
 on the other hand, Father Ronay, a French missionary, in 
 a most eloquent sermon at the church of St. Louis, in Wil- 
 liamsburg, praised the emperor highly, and predicted his 
 early restoration to the throne. His picture of the sufferings 
 of France was quite touching, and affected his congregation 
 to tears. 
 
 "Dr. Dix, at Trinity, declared that the crowning sin of 
 Rome was in proclaiming an enthroned God, and said 
 many hard things of the Catholic Church. There are, how- 
 ever, two sides to every question ; and, consequently, those 
 who do not agree with the anti-popery doctrines of Dr. Dix 
 can read our reports of sermons of the Catholic churches 
 where the recent misfortunes 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
 
 1 6 2 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 a severe rebuke to cant. He seemed to have a tolerably 
 clear idea of what piety is, and he thought that it was not 
 displayed by mankind exactly as he believed to be right and 
 proper. 
 
 " At the New England Congregational Church Rev. Mr. 
 Richardson discoursed on the renovating power of Chris- 
 tianity ; while at the Elm-place Congregational Church, 
 in Brooklyn, the kingdom of heaven was the theme. In 
 the same city, at the Grand-street Methodist Church Rev. 
 Mr. Hendricks gave the young ladies some sound advice on 
 subjects matrimonial, and a few hints on the same to hus- 
 bands expectant. ' Though he may have a boundless 
 fortune,' he said to the fair maidens, ' Will you marry a 
 man who will bring upon you not only poverty but dis- 
 grace ? ' How a man with a boundless fortune can bring 
 poverty upon his wife we cannot imagine." 
 
 Oct. 12 This is the anniversary of the discovery of 
 America by Christopher Columbus, and the Italian residents 
 of Boston have celebrated the event with due eclat At 
 9 o'clock, a.m., a procession of Italians, numbering a hun- 
 dred, with a band and a banner the latter representing the 
 landing of Columbus at San Salvador proceeded through 
 the principal streets, and stopped at the City Hall, where 
 they paid their respects to the mayor, and made him a 
 suitable address. His honor replied appropriately. Will I 
 be accused of hypercriticism if I comment unfavourably 
 upon one passage of his honor's speech, or rather upon a 
 quotation from an American poet, which he adopted. 
 
 " If I could have my say," said his honor, " I would give 
 your illustrious countryman his true deserts, and call our 
 beloved country by its real name Columbia. I think we
 
 THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA." 163 
 
 could all exclaim in harmonious feelings, in the language of 
 Barlow, the Yankee poet : 
 
 " Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, 
 
 The queen of the world and the child of the skies." 
 
 I only ask, what is the meaning of saying that Columbia is 
 the "child of the skies?" Were she called "child of the 
 ocean," there would be sufficient vraisemblance in the idea 
 to divest the hearers from too rigid an examination of the 
 words ; but " child of the skies " is too absurd, too incon- 
 ceivable, or, if conceivable, too prosaic to awaken a poetic 
 sensation. The idea of America, a large continent, falling 
 from the boundless skies, and settling in an ocean small in 
 comparison to the firmament, is an anticlimax annihilative 
 of all poetry. 
 
 There was a good deal of cannonading in Boston Com- 
 mon commemorative of the great event, and festivities and 
 convivialities crowned the joyous celebration. 
 
 Oct. 13/7*. We had a letter of introduction to the cele- 
 brated comedian, Air. 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 
 it 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
 
 1 64 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A ME RICA . 
 
 interesting man, small in stature, with a handsome face, a 
 bright intelligent eye and a rather fashionable style of dress.- 
 He is Irish Catholic and a native of Cork, where he was born, ' 
 June 4th, 1826. His father, he told us was a man named 
 Barney Flaherty, a full colour sergeant in the British Army.. 
 His name of Williams is assumed. His wife is a convert,, 
 an American lady, and a very staunch papist. He and she 
 have made thirteen converts since they were married. He 
 is a great lover of Ireland they have grown very wealthy 
 by their talents and much good may it do them. 
 
 Mr. Williams discoursed a good deal about the Irish in. 
 America, and his points, put very briefly, were these : The 
 Irish are matchless for brain-work, and handiwork. He 
 instanced the making of the Erie Canal, one of the grandest 
 pieces of engineering ever seen in the world as a proof of his 
 statement on the subject of Irish talent. It was designed by 
 an Irishman, and made by Irishmen. It is 500 miles long,, 
 and is cut through mountains and rocks, in many places at 
 great length and difficulty. The Irish are kept in big cities- 
 by cunning politicians who wish to have their votes in elec- 
 tion times. The unfortunate creatures receive no encourage- 
 ment to go West where land may be had for nothing ; but 
 are crammed like " Sardines in a box," in tenement houses, 
 in New York and elsewhere. They are honest in every sphere 
 of life, except when they become politicians. The Yankees- 
 prefer an Irish servant to all others Irish servant girls are 
 saucy and hard to put up but it is better to bear sauciness 
 than to be robbed. And Yankees insist on them going to 
 confession at certain times. They justly regard confession 
 as a great check of crime, and the safe-guard of conscience. 
 Mr. Williams has been in almost every hotel in America,.
 
 THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 165 
 
 and he could not remember a single instance where the night 
 watchman was not an Irishman and a Catholic. To no other 
 would they entrust the awful responsibility of life and pro- 
 perty, which could be so sadly jeopardised at the dead hour 
 of night by collusion between the watchman and a burglar. 
 He fully concurred in all that had been said of the Irishman's 
 attachment to the old faith, and witnessed all that have been 
 done in America for its sake of late years ; and he justly 
 observed that the preservation of that faith, under so many 
 trials, was one grand proof of its being divine. 
 
 On Sunday, Oct. i7th, a great celebration took place here, 
 the laying of the corner-stone of a New Home for Destitute 
 children. It was altogether a Catholic affair. The funds for 
 the erection 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 
 r/as the means it afforded the Catholics, that is the Irish, of
 
 166 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 showing their power, and they showed it to some purpose; 
 Great order prevailed and the whole spectacle contrasted in 
 every respect to my mind very favourably with similar dis- 
 plays in the " old country." 
 
 Mr. Patrick Donahoe of the Boston Pilot, is the chief 
 promoter and largest subscriber to the New Home, and he 
 took, as far as a layman could, a very prominent part in the 
 ceremony. When it was over a large number of carriages were 
 ready to convey the clergy and some laymen to Mr. 
 Donahoe's house, where supper was prepared ; we were 
 amongst the invited guests, and a carriage was placed at our 
 disposal. The Bishop (Williams) was as usual extremely 
 courteous and introduced us to the other Bishop (O'Reilly). 
 Before supper we all assembled in the drawingroom, supper 
 came off and was something novel to me; two black servants- 
 helped us. No one sat down, not even the Bishops. All 
 stood and were helped from the table. There was nothing, 
 like a general blending of sentiment or conversation, the 
 meal was consumed in a business-like fashion and did not 
 occupy a very long time, not half an hour ; after which all 
 adjourned to another room where cigars were provided, of 
 which almost all partook. 
 
 Bishop Williams is an excellent man ; his dress on this 
 occasion was simply that of an ordinary gentleman, there was 
 about him no vestige of the priest, much less the bishop, and 
 as he is a very handsome man, and personal beauty is a rare 
 thing in gentlemen of our profession, the thought of his 
 being a clergyman could enter no one's mind. 
 
 Oct. 23^, Sunday. I deliver my lecture on the History 
 of Irish Music this evening in the Boston Theatre. Mr. 
 Barney Williams says this is one of the finest theatres in the
 
 THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA." 167 
 
 world. My lecture was a great success, an audience of 
 about 2,500 were present, and considering I was a "new 
 hand" it was very patronizing. I was introduced to the 
 Honourable P. A. Collins, a young gentleman of very great 
 promise in Boston ; he is among the chiefs of what is called 
 the "Young Democracy," a very clever person only 26 years 
 of age, yet already a senator, a native of Fermoy, County 
 of Cork, but living here since his infancy ; he is only a law 
 student, and yet there are few men more respected 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
 
 1 68 D1AR Y 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 Bards from the earliest ages down to the present, it 
 was my intention to pay a tribute of admiration to the dis- 
 tinguished Irish composer Balfe in some such words as the 
 following : " At the present day Balfe sustains the honour 
 of Ireland in the field of music, &c." But on taking up the 
 paper that morning I read the death of Michael William 
 Balfe, the Irish composer, at his residence in England the 
 day before. In my lecture I had to substitute the past for 
 the present tense. Here are two remarkable instances of 
 the uncertainty of human life. 
 
 As a rule, I find amongst those whom I meet very little 
 education of a high order. Perhaps I do not meet the 
 educated classes ; but there is an impression on my mind 
 that even the clever men of America are not very well read, 
 and that amongst them English literature is at a large dis- 
 count, and a knowledge of languages as rare as a knowledge 
 of hieroglyphics. In America the great ambition is to be 
 rich, and for the acquisition of riches much book education 
 is not necessary. Boys are " put to business " when very 
 young, and it is no rare thing to see them employed at
 
 i;o DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 occupations which seem to demand not only brains but 
 large experience. They grow fast here. Our boys at home 
 spend years at Latin and Greek, and other years in forget- 
 ting those languages, while the lads of America are hard at 
 work piling up dollars. In England and Ireland, and 
 indeed most countries of the Old World, the great ambition 
 of young men is to shine in the intellectual arena. Hence, 
 they seek in crowds the Bar, the Pulpit, the Senate, or. failing 
 those high aims, they are content with some profession 
 v.-here intellect is required, such as Medicine. They study 
 the languages and music, and are most eager to acquire a 
 reputation for literary culture. Not so here. He is the 
 most esteemed in this country who makes the most money, 
 and the only intellectual power admired here is that by 
 which some new scheme is invented for the easier acquisi- 
 tion of wealth. 
 
 But every day I spend in this country the more do I 
 admire the democratic character of the people, the apparent 
 equality of intercourse that exists between them, and the 
 more absurd appears to me the aristocratic spirit at home, 
 the lines of demarcation between the different ranks of 
 society, and the cringing respect with which those of the 
 lower rungs of the social ladder regard those above them. 
 Somehow here in personal appearance there does not seem 
 to be much difference between man and man. You have a 
 colonel who gained distinction in the wars now keeping a 
 beer-shop, and serving the customers from behind the 
 counter in his shirt-sleeves ; majors and captains occupy 
 positions of the same social respectability. 
 
 And by the way, that word respectability seems to be 
 unknown here. It implies gradation, and there is no grada-
 
 THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA? 171. 
 
 tion amongst a free and equal people. Their Military men 
 have no martial air to distinguish them, where as in England 
 and Ireland, the air Militaire is unmistakable. At some 
 public gathering one evening in the Music Hall here, a friend 
 of mine was pointing out the remarkable men to me. While 
 he was doing so, I saw a man (I could not say a " gentleman") 
 enter with some ladies. His whole bearing, and dress, and 
 features, especially an intense stupidity of expression, all 
 forced me to the conclusion that he was a peasant and no 
 more. No, sir, that is Colonel of the Montgomery Guards 
 one of the most brilliant officers of the late war. " God 
 bless us ! " I cried, " to what a depth has colonelcy 
 descended ! " 
 
 Another day, while I was at dinner in the Parker House, 
 the waiter whispered in my ear ; 
 
 "A General has just come in, and is sitting at a table 
 below ! " 
 
 I turned round in the direction indicated, and saw only a 
 waiter standing. I said facetiously, " Is it that man with 
 the white apron ? " 
 
 " No," replied my waiter, " he does not wear a white 
 apron, although he often appears in the White House ! " 
 
 I was pleased with the waiter's humour, and then viewed 
 the General at my leisure, a mighty plain, ungeneral-like man- 
 "And," said I to the waiter, "has the general ever distin- 
 guished himself by any feat worthy of historical record ! " 
 
 " Oh yes," he replied, " the general made very good use of 
 his feet on one occasion ! " 
 
 ':' How." 
 
 " Why he skedaddled at Bull Run." 
 
 You seldom see a man in America of what we call distingue
 
 1 7 2 DIAR Y OP 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 and you pay for it; the balance, you see, lies against 
 you. A man may make "tall piles" and yet retain his 
 humble position. There are waiters in this hotel who own 
 real estate, and yet they go on making fresh "piles." The 
 master of the house must take care to handle them gently, 
 they would take none of his dictation, they would not stand 
 being " bossed." A servant, especially a female servant, will 
 not allow herself to be called by that degrading name. If 
 you ask her what business she is at, her answer is that she 
 " lives out," and if you ask her does she mean that she is a 
 servant, she replies, " No," she is a " help." 
 
 One day I was going in a horse-car when a very pretty 
 and elegant young lady entered and sat not far from me. The 
 journey continued a good while, and people got in and out 
 as we went along. At length when very few remained the 
 conductor, a young man, like one who would drive a hack at 
 home, entered, shook hands with the young lady and sat 
 clown by her. She was delighted to see him, and they soon 
 became very chatty and confidential. For aught I knew this 
 conductor might have been a young man of great wealth, 
 and even social position. There was nothing degrading in 
 being conductor to a horse-car, and he may have retained 
 the office from choice, or to prevent himself getting rusty.
 
 THE A THENS OF AMERICA." 1 7 3 
 
 All I knew was that in Ireland, or England, the immense 
 barrier between an omnibus conductor and a fashionable 
 young lady would not have been so coolly and unblushingly 
 broken down. 
 
 Every one in America is a "gentleman," or "lady." 
 The man who cleans your boots, and the "cabby" who 
 drives you are "gentlemen," your very chamber-maid is 
 designated " the lady." You may shake hands with them all, 
 they expect it, and it is no social degradation. They live by 
 honest labour, so do you it is hoped. You may have more 
 money ; but there are people too who have more money than 
 you ; poverty is no crime, though it is extremely inconvenient. 
 ********* 
 
 Soon after my lecture I became so ill with rheumatism 
 and other maladies that I was confined to my room for a 
 week. At the end of that time the Pilot did me the honor 
 of noticing the fact. A good deal of inconvenience was 
 caused to myself, and some to other parties, by the an- 
 nouncement. When I was quite well, people who had 
 only just seen the Pilot flocked to know how I was. With 
 my friend, Captain Buckley, of the " City of Ragusa," the 
 story took the course once pursued by the three black 
 crows when the rumour reached him it told him / was 
 dead ! He telegraphed ; I received the missive in bed one 
 morning at ii o'clock, but was so vexed for being roused 
 out of sleep, with the silly query whether I was dead or 
 alive, that I deferred my answer till morning; but when 
 morning came, I found that the captain had not sent any 
 more definite address than " Providence." I thought this 
 too vague, and did not reply at all. That night the captaia 
 turned up, "all dressed from top to toe" got up especially
 
 1 7 4 DIAR y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 "by some Providential modiste, that he might present a 
 decent appearance at my funeral. My silence was con- 
 strued by him into an admission that I was done for. On 
 his arrival he learned that I was spending the evening with 
 Mr. Patrick Donahoe. I dare say he was disappointed ; but 
 on my return from Mr. Donahoe's I met him, and although 
 there was a considerable manifestation of spirits on the 
 occasion, he saw very little of the grave about me. 
 
 He accompanied me the following day to Lowell, a large 
 manufacturing town, about twenty miles from Boston. 
 Here I got a very poor reception from one of the pastors of 
 the place ; he was almost offensive ; he would afford me no 
 assistance towards prosecuting my mission in Lowell none 
 whatever. I then asked him for information. I said I was 
 anxious to deliver a lecture in Lowell, and enquired if there 
 was a Hall in the town where I might deliver it. He 
 answered that there was. 
 
 "Is it a large one ? " I asked. 
 
 "You will find it large enough for YOU," was the reply. 
 I never before encountered so ungracious a person as this 
 old specimen. He is unique, but I forgive him. The other 
 pastor, a Rev. Mr. Crudder, was not at home. I sought 
 the Hall; it was engaged every evening up to the nth of 
 December. I came home to Boston, disappointed and 
 chagrined. 
 
 The great singer, Christina Nillson, has arrived in Boston, 
 and has been serenaded outside her hotel, the "Revere 
 House," by the Bostonian "Scandinavians." Her pay is 
 pretty handsome 1,000 dollars per night. I do not know 
 shall I go to hear her; I am indifferent. 
 
 During my convalescence I sometimes strolled through
 
 THE " A THENS OF AMERICA." 1 7 5 
 
 the Boston Common, a very excellent park in the centre of 
 the city, but small. Here is a very fine old tree, railed in. 
 An inscription on the railing informs us that it was in full 
 bloom in 1722, began to show signs of decay in 1792, and 
 was subsequently shattered by a storm. It is swathed in 
 canvas, to keep out the rain from its incisions. It looks 
 like an old man with a diseased leg. 
 
 Boston is a very fine city, very large, with a number of 
 suburban towns, which are so connected with it as to form 
 a. great whole. It is quite a flat, with the exception of one 
 considerable elevation, on which is the "State House," a 
 very fine building, overlooking the common aforesaid. The 
 State House, from its great height and lofty situation, com- 
 mands a magnificent view 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
 
 176 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A N 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 "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 177 
 
 engaged to lecture every night for an indefinite period." 
 How I envy the lady her ocean of knowledge, with such 
 multitudinous outlets ! They enjoy a lecture here as people 
 elsewhere enjoy the theatre. It is an elegant taste, and, I 
 am sure, productive of good. 
 
 The people of Boston are quiet and respectable. There 
 is no rowdyism here. You never see anything sensational 
 in the streets ; and such crimes as burglary and other out- 
 rages are extremely rare. The ladies dress very quietly, 
 and are generally good-looking ; and altogether there is 
 about Boston an air of propriety, and decency, and quiet, 
 hard to be conceived when one considers the general depra- 
 vity of human nature in big cities. 
 
 Fechter, the celebrated actor, is playing here for some 
 months back. I went to see him in " Hamlet." I have 
 not much experience of the stage, but I was greatly im- 
 pressed by his acting. I think, however, the secret of my 
 pleasure was not the power of his acting, but the master- 
 genius of the great mind that composed the immortal 
 drama. The " Ghost " was admirable. During his long 
 narrative of the manner in which his murder was accom- 
 plished I was positively transfixed. Fechter was "Hamlet," 
 and did it beautifully. A few days after the performance, I 
 was standing in the hall of the Parker House, when I 
 remarked a group of three persons speaking together. 
 
 " That is General Banks," I asked of a gentleman standing 
 by. 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " and that gentleman opposite him is 
 Fechter, the actor." I should never have recognised him. 
 
 Have you ever suffered from boredom I mean on a 
 large scale ? I don't ask you whether you have endured 
 
 N
 
 1 7 8 DIAR Y OF A 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 Tomkyns. 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 stones of his interviews with Longfellow 
 and with other celebrities. He was influential with the 
 Boston Press, and got a few notices of me in the papers. 
 His conception of humour was peculiar, because he told 
 anecdotes without point, and laughed most where the point 
 was conspicuous by its absence. Every evening he was 
 particular to ascertain what I was to do next day, next 
 Sunday, next week. He was always bringing some person 
 to introduce to me, and sometimes he would leave a note 
 stating that he would come at such an hour, to introduce 
 Mr. Such-a-one. He and his friends frequently stayed until 
 midnight, when I was obliged to present striking symptoms 
 of weariness. Tales came back to me of Mr. Tomkyns' 
 discourses concerning me. He told his friends how "thick" 
 lie 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 m of an
 
 i8o DIARY 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. 1 would stand it no longer. 
 It had now lasted for two months. I should stay in Boston, 
 one month more, and I would not allow myself to be 
 victimised any longer. 
 
 November 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 made a collection of 284 dollars. I dined with the;
 
 THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA" 181 
 
 -pastor, and returned to town. I expected to reach the 
 hotel about six, and asked myself what should I do in the 
 possible contingency of meeting my bore. I could not 
 -answer the question; but one thing I resolved, and that 
 was, that he should not spend that evening in my room. 
 
 I entered the hotel, and the first man I met was Tomkyns, 
 -radiant in beard and whiskers, and white waistcoat. He 
 looked as if he meant to say " what kept you so long, here 
 am I waiting for you for the last half hour ? " I heard 
 the first clank of the chain ; but I did not succumb. I 
 determined to initiate no conversation, I would let him 
 begin let him propose questions, and I would answer. 
 
 " But," I said, " I was going to have tea." " All right," he 
 said, " I will sit with you while you take it," and he sat by 
 tne 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 
 ///// three quarters of an tour, when I concluded that he 
 vould stop there all night, if he were allowed ; and the cure
 
 182 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 I" 
 and I rushed from him upstairs, I locked my door, I was- 
 free from my bore, at least for this night, and piously hoped 
 it might be for ever. 
 
 Monday came and went and I did not see my bore, but I 
 left town at 4^ 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 
 1 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.j of intoxicating drinks. A large meeting took place in,
 
 THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 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 ;
 
 1 84 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 in the latter I am now " located " for more than two months, 
 and wish to say a great deal in its praise. 
 
 In America hotels are quite an institution of their kind, 
 they take the first rank as institutions in all the world. It is 
 a natural result 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 180, the 
 guests rooms are 250 and are always occupied, but the great 
 business is done by casual visitors who breakfast, dine, and 
 sup. It is the most popular hotel in town, and is always 
 thronged ; over 2,000 people visit it daily, and partake of 
 its hospitality. The bill of fare is stupendous and be- 
 wildering ; but the machinery of the house, complicated as 
 one might suppose it to be, works with the most marvellous 
 regularity. 
 
 Let us consider what is an American hotel ab uno disce 
 cmnes. You enter, and write your name in the book on the
 
 THE ' ' A THENS OF AMERICA." 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 
 here are several shoe-blacks ready for an order. You ascend 
 smiling and comfortable, and you just remember that you 
 have a telegram to send to New York, to London, to Bombay, 
 it matters not whither here is the telegraph clerk seated at 
 his desk, and the eternal "click, click," announcing his 
 occupation. The news ? why here are papers from all parts 
 of " creation." Your supply of visiting cards is out a 
 young man is here to do them on the spot. You want to 
 write a letter here are desk, paper, ink, and stamps, all at 
 hand. Have any letters arrived for you ? one of the clerks 
 will tell you. You want a novel, or some other light book 
 to amuse your dull hours see the book-stall in a corner, 
 and the young man up to his eyes in business. Do you 
 smoke ? here is another little corner, where you can have 
 Havanas, or cheroots at pleasure. Do you wish to go to 
 the theatre? this young man at the counter will supply 
 you with a ticket, and point out in a diagram what seat in 
 the theatre is yours for that evening. Take off your outside- 
 coat and leave it in the cloak-room the man will give you 
 a check for it. Enter the dining-room, with at least one 
 hundred tables, made double and treble by the reflection of 
 mirrors ; here is the bill of fare ; find if you cannot satisfy 
 your appetite out of it, you must be an epicure indeed. 
 Over 200 items, including soups, fish, flesh, fowl, and game, 
 pastry, fruit, and wines, ought to satisfy you I think. Do you
 
 1 86 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 wish to dine with the ladies? if so, goto the ladies' dining- 
 room, it makes no difference. In fine,, do you wish for a 
 railway ticket to any place, from Boston all round the world 
 and back again ? you can get it at the magic counter of 
 this wonder-working Parker House. 
 
 I have gone through the whole house, and observed its 
 machinery. Twenty feet under ground are the furnace and 
 steam-engine, which by the annual consumption of 800 tons 
 of coal, supply the motive power for the complicated oper- 
 ations going on above. I passed into the store-room,, 
 packed full of nice things spices, preserves, olives, oils, 
 nuts, and smelling with a delicious compound of richest 
 odours. Here is the larder ! how neatly everything is. 
 arranged ! how crowded every nook with the raw materials 
 for health, strength and pleasure ! See those matchless rows- 
 of mutton-chops, and red and white beefsteaks, all ready to 
 broil ! they are beautiful enough in their repose to tempt 
 the art of. a photographer. What provoking quantities of 
 game, brought from every part of the country, to set the 
 mouths of epicures watering ! Here are salmon from the 
 pine-clad banks of streams in Maine, from the icy floods 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 AMERICA." 187 
 
 work goes on in the kitchen after this enumeration. The 
 ranges of tables and dishes, the gigantic soup kettles, big 
 enough to boil down whole oxen in, the glowing rows of 
 fires, with spits and gridirons, and every convenience for 
 frying and roasting and broiling the long array of white- 
 aproned cooks at their respective posts, twenty in number, 
 all make up a show that fill the spectator with admiration 
 and surprise. 
 
 And then the laundry in an adjacent room is another 
 wonder. As we look on the busy scene, and trace the 
 running machinery for cleaning soiled garments, and see the 
 exact order in which every parcel has its own mark and 
 book-entry, and notice the purity and freshness of the place, 
 and follow the busy motions of the girls who wash or iron, 
 or fold, the whole room becomes a beautiful picture of a 
 human beehive. 
 
 The wine-cellar witli its multitudinous bottles of various 
 wines all packed and stored away in an atmosphere of 
 delicious coolness, makes one feel thirsty, and anti- temperate; 
 and this feeling is heightened by contemplating a huge ice- 
 chest filled with bottles ready for immediate consumption. 
 These are only a few glimpses of the working part of the 
 hotel. There are private dining rooms, where parties are 
 held almost every day, and sometimes when I am retiring to 
 rest, I hear the clapping of some thirty or forty hilarious boon- 
 companions over the speech of some 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 " of 
 Boston.
 
 a 83 D1AR Y OF A TO UR IN A MERICA. 
 
 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 Irvingstovvn, 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 cculd see that labour was not altogether
 
 THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 189. 
 
 suspended. I saw people building houses, c. The day 
 is set aside to thank God for all the blessings conferred. 
 during the year, especially for an abundant harvest. I had 
 some invitations to dinner one especially from a German 
 few; but I declined them all. I don't care to dine with 
 people I don't know well. 
 
 November z^th. This morning I went by rail to Worces- 
 ter, a city (I believe there is no such thing as a " town" in> 
 all America), of about 45,000 inhabitants, of whom about 
 18,000 are Catholics. Worcester is, I think, forty-five miles 
 from Boston. The morning was very fine ; it had frozen 
 over night, but it was by no means cold, although at this 
 time last year, as I am informed, there was several feet of 
 snow upon the ground. 
 
 The American railway carriages are very comfortable. 
 Such a thing as a rug would be a superfluity, and an over- 
 coat may be dispensed with. The carriages are all heated, 
 and as a large number of people are always travelling, the 
 atmosphere is never cool. 
 
 I reached Worcester at io a.m., and found it very like 
 all American small " cities " I have yet seen. The charac- 
 teristics of American cities appear to me to be these : A 
 number of streets, almost always straight and regular, the 
 houses composed either of red brick or wood. Several 
 streets are insignificant, and the roadways bad ; but there 
 are always a few main streets which are very fine, composed 
 of large solid houses, fine shops, with plenty of carriages 
 in waiting outside, and a good many foot passengers, and a 
 fair amount of bustle. In these main streets there is a track, 
 and horse-cars run. The names over the doors are frequently 
 composed of gilt letters, and sometimes a shopkeeper who
 
 1 90 DIAR Y OF 'A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 believes in advertising has a handsome flag suspended at a 
 great height, by a rope reaching quite across the street, with 
 his name and number inscribed on it. This looks pic- 
 turesque. The bustle of these cities is greatly increased by 
 the constant, I might say the incessant, noise of railway 
 trains running by running often through the centre of an 
 important street, with a bell ringing at a tremendons rate. 
 A large wooden archway over the track warns you against 
 danger by the words painted on it " Look out for the 
 engine while the bell rings." How a few dozen people are 
 not killed every day in each of those cities is a marvel to 
 me, for the bell is always ringing, and the engine, or as they 
 pronounce it, the " injine," is always coming. 
 
 Churches there are plenty, and now and then a green 
 place with a monument to Daniel Webster, to Washington, 
 or Araham Lincoln, or perhaps some nobody. You some- 
 times pass a splendid-looking building with a magnificent 
 Grecian portico, and steps leading up ; but with your 
 Avdking 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 
 
 \vhich 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 carrh. 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 the natives seemed to prize very much I 
 could scarcely put up with tomato, I hated sweet ll 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 y 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
 
 1 92 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A MERICA . 
 
 than I anticipated. You have just eaten the one-fourth part 
 of a squash pie. The laugh was against me, and I admitted 
 the justice of it. 
 
 I lectured in Worcester with considerable success. The 
 Bishop (O'Reilly) of Springfield, lately consecrated, was very 
 favourable to me, and the clergy lent a cordial assistance, 
 
 I had an audience of about 1,000 in the Mechanics' Hall, 
 
 
 
 and realized 163 dollars. 
 
 All the while I had been suffering from an attack of rheu- 
 matism in my shoulder; but soon after my return from 
 Providence, there appeared symptoms of a more serious 
 visitation of the disease. I felt it in my right knee on 
 Wednesday, December the 4th. On that day I sent home 
 to the Bishop a bill of exchange for the seconder ,000, and 
 that night I retired to rest with unmistakable symptoms of 
 rheumatism in my right knee. Suffice to say, I was con- 
 fined to bed for a whole fortnight, and endured a great deal 
 of pain. My whole system was out of order, and medical 
 care was of the greatest importance. But what physician 
 could I call in a strange city, especially in a city where, as 
 all through America, quacks are so abundant. 
 
 Nothing could surpass the care and kindness of the 
 servants of the hotel, of whom about a dozen evinced for 
 me the greatest sympathy. They were all Irish, and many 
 from Cork County. They neglected no means for aiding 
 in my restoration to health. The men-servants could show 
 nothing but sympathy, and they showed it as far as language 
 could go. 
 
 Dr. Salter called every day while I was sick, and showed 
 great skill as well as industry in banishing my pains and 
 restoring me to health. Mrs. Salter wrote me a note of
 
 THE ''ATHENS OF AMERICA." 193 
 
 sympathy, and sent me books and pictures to amuse, and 
 wine to stregthen me. She then came herself every day, 
 and spent an hour with me. She impressed me as one of 
 the most learned, elegant and accomplished ladies I had 
 ever met. Although the daughter of a Protestant clergyman, 
 she is a convert to Catholicity, and so became every member 
 of her family, including the Doctor. I never met a more 
 intense Catholic than Mrs. Salter. She seems to have not 
 only retained, but to have kept constantly intensifying in 
 her soul the first fervour of neophytism. 
 
 I bore my illness and solitude with remarkable patience 
 for some days ; but soon, when it got noised abroad, my 
 resignation was less severely tested, for several friends 
 dropped in, and all brought some present which they 
 thought would be of service to me. One brought wine, 
 another fruit, a third, Mrs. Murphy, acted like a Sister of 
 Charity. She came every day, and brought some soup or 
 other delicacy, such as a jelly, which she administered with 
 her own hands, until I found myself as well cared for as if 
 I were ill in my own house at home. Withal, I sighed 
 for the gentle care of my sister and dear friend, Miss Cox, 
 and for the balmy air of my native land. In Boston it 
 blew, one day a hurricane, another day the wind was cold 
 and biting then it froze for several days together, and last 
 of all it snowed. 
 
 As I grew better, I fancied that my condition was not so 
 very disagreeable, and that repose and seclusion from a cold 
 atmosphere were not entirely unpleasant ; yet I had to spend 
 the Christmas in ray 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
 
 iQ4 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 tion of weaving those reflections into verse. I subjoin a 
 copy of the lines I wrote on this occasion : 
 
 CONSOLATIONS OF AN EXILED INVALID ON CHRISTMAS DAY. 
 
 How many a way man is doomed upon earth 
 
 To spend " Merry Christmas," as men love to call it ! 
 For some 'tis a season of frolic and mirth, 
 
 For others, there's plenty of sorrow to gall it. 
 Here family circles unbroken unite, 
 
 There vacant chairs vainly await the departed ; 
 Here children's loud laughter enlivens the night, 
 
 There pines the lone father, death-doomed, broken-hearted; 
 For me, I have tried, when this Christmas comes round, 
 
 To smile in saloons or to revel in attics 
 The last was the j oiliest yet, though it found 
 
 Me sick in a Boston hotel with rheumatics. 
 
 There, stretched at full length, as I lay on my back, 
 
 I gazed on the ceiling all white that shone o'er me, 
 A canvas so fair did my fancy but lack 
 
 To paint all its visions of Christmas before me. 
 One pleasure, at least, was the absence of sound 
 
 Shut out was the world, with its cares and its troubles, 
 Calm, holy and sweet was the silence around, 
 
 Unheard were the breakers of life, and its bubbles. 
 The frosty wind sighed by rny cold window-pane, 
 
 But I was wrapped snug from those biting pneumatics, 
 I tell you. my friends, I'd spend Christmas again 
 
 Thus sick in a Boston hotel with rheumatics. 
 
 No doubt, it is lonely thus lying in bed : 
 
 With patience, however, to bear it I'm able : 
 Far better my lot than of those whom the dead 
 
 Come haunting at Christmas, and grin round the table. 
 Far better be captive in bed, when the pain 
 
 Is not unendurable, than in a prison, 
 Where pleasure expires at the clank of the chain, 
 
 .And hopes are extinguished as soon as arisen ;
 
 THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA:- 195 
 
 Far better an ocean of bed than of wave, 
 Secure from the dangers of wild aerostatics, 
 
 I envy no seaman so close to his grave, 
 
 While sick in a Boston hotel with rheumatics. 
 
 How many a Prussian now trembling in France 
 
 With hunger and cold and unspeakable hard fare, 
 Would envy my bed, where no bayonet or lance 
 
 Would conjure up all the wild horrors of warfare. 
 Oh, Christmas, what thousands of palls hast thou flung 
 
 O'er hearts and o'er homes through this war's desolation? 
 Thy advent, once welcome to aged and young, 
 
 Now brings only ruin, and woe, and starvation. 
 To count all the sorrows of Teuton and Frank 
 
 This Christmas, surpasses all my mathematics, 
 But one thing is plain, my good angel I thank, 
 
 That I'm sick in a Boston hotel with rheumatics. 
 
 I think of the thousands like me who recline 
 
 In bed, but alas ! with less hope of revival, 
 Who, friendless, impitied, incurable pine, 
 
 And think their best blessing Death's early arrival. 
 Ah ! Christmas, what balm for those wretches hast thou ? 
 
 The memories thou bringest but heighten their anguish, 
 The joys that thou sheddest of yore are but now 
 
 Dim phantoms before which they hopelessly languish 
 For me, I but suffer some pain in my knees, 
 
 Which yields to the soothings of homoeopathies, 
 And calmly philosophize here at my ease, 
 
 Laid up in a Boston hotel with rheumatics. 
 
 And were I at home ! what is home to me now, 
 
 Since those who endeared it are vanished for ever? 
 The father who sat at the board with the brow 
 
 Of Jove when serenest, again shall sit never. 
 The mother whose face, like a garden of flowers, 
 
 Gave out all its sweets to the sunshine of pleasure, 
 Sheds radiance no more on the festival hours, 
 
 A sharp, sudden stroke reft my life of that treasure.
 
 1 96 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 A sister and friend guard the homestead for me, 
 While Destiny flings me amongst the erratics ; 
 
 Small difference then doth it make if I be 
 One sick in a Boston hotel with rheumatics. 
 
 Come, let us be jolly, whatever betide, 
 
 And fill up a bumper : let's call it Falernian. 
 It matters not what be the liquor supplied, 
 
 As long as we cannot procure the Hibernian. 
 Come, Mary and Pat, to your welfare here goes ; 
 
 Time flies ! see, already the day's disappearing ! 
 The season comes round once a year, and who knows 
 
 The next we may spend in the dear land of Erin ? 
 The thought is so pleasant, it makes me inclined 
 
 To try an experiment in acrobatics ; 
 This Christmas, at least, is the last that will find 
 
 Me sick in a Boston hotel with rheumatics. 
 
 During my illness I heard from the servants and visitors 
 2. great deal about the preparations which were being made 
 to honour the Christmas festival. But I was very much sur- 
 prised to learn that it is only of very late years that the 
 solemnity has been observed at all, and even so late as 
 twenty years ago, it was 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 "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 197 
 
 Day is now observed by all classes with as much strictness 
 as it is in any part of the world. And not only are the 
 churches filled, and all business suspended, but there is an 
 unusual amount of feasting, and visiting and house decoration, 
 -and holiday-making everywhere, and this is increasing from 
 one year to another. The newspapers state that no previous 
 celebration of Christmas surpassed this one in festivity, and 
 the community were congratulated upon their growing 
 Christian spirit. 
 
 No allusion however was made to the means by which this 
 great revolution was brought about, while everybody knows 
 that it is entirely owing to the influence of the Irish. The 
 Irish would not work on a Christmas Day so great was 
 their reverence from childhood for this festival, that no threat 
 or privation could prevail on them to desecrate it by servile 
 work. They sturdily resisted the solicitations of their 
 employers, and the end of that was business had to be given 
 up and the obligations of Christmas recognised. The 
 despised race brought about this change ; the weak ones of 
 the world confounded the strong, and religion witnessed 
 another triumph at the hands of a people to whom its 
 interests are dearer than life itself. 
 
 Shortly after my last lecture, I received a letter of warm 
 congratulation from a lady, "Miss Jannette L. Douglas," 209 
 Springfield Street, Boston, to which I replied on the eve of my 
 illness, and which was soon succeeded by another. To the 
 latter I replied soliciting the honour of a visit, as I was un- 
 well. Miss Douglas came, and I immediately recognised a 
 lady to whom I had been introduced to in the Victoria Hotel, 
 Cork, about two years ago by my friend Professor Barry, 
 since deceased. Miss Douglas is a fine looking lady she
 
 i 9 8 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. 
 She described him as the most finished gentleman she had 
 ever met. And indeed she did not err, for the Professor's 
 manners were most courtly, and his conversational powers 
 unequalled. Her sorrow, when I informed her of his death 
 was genuine indeed. 
 
 The lady had written the manuscript of a book which she 
 is now preparing for the press, a journal of her tour, which I 
 have no doubt, will be highly interesting, if I can form any 
 opinion of her style from the correctness and elegance of her 
 language in conversation, as well as from her powers of: 
 observation of men and things. I am to spend an evening 
 at Miss Douglas's house when I am entirely convalescent. 
 
 I should have mentioned long since that I lectured at Ports- 
 mouth, New Hampshire, under the auspices of my friend the 
 Rev. Canon Walsh, Pastor of that place, but with only 
 trifling success, as the Catholic population is few, and not 
 lecture-loving. The nett receipts were only fifty dollars^ 
 But my chief reason for going to Portsmouth was that I 
 might enjoy the pleasure of meeting again that estimable 
 clergyman, to whom I was introduced last summer in Mon- 
 treal. His wit and humour, and hilarity were to me perfectly 
 delightful, and his hospitality, which was of the genuine Irish 
 pattern, made me feel quite at home. He had a few other 
 guests, and his sister Miss Walsh, a very talented and 
 interesting young lady. 
 
 From all I learn, the antipathy to the Catholic religion and 
 the Irish population is very intense in this country. One
 
 THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA: 1 199 
 
 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 :ne 
 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 Amtrican ; but what was to be done ? The law afforded 
 no solace to the wounded feelings of the Yankee, and as a 
 last resource he erected a long and high wooden wall that 
 would completely shut out from view the obnoxious domicile 
 of the unoffending Patrick. I saw the wall of separation, 
 and I could not help feeling disgusted to think that any 
 man's hatred for another could carry him to such absurd 
 and ridiculous lengths. 
 
 But Patrick goes steadily " marching on." Every year 
 witnesses new triumphs of his nationality and religion, and 
 there is every reason to hope that after a generation or two, 
 both will be once for all in the ascendant. 
 
 In the city of Providence, and indeed, I believe, all through 
 the broad island, there exists a law clearly aimed at Irishmen, 
 that no " foreigner," no matter how long resident in the 
 country, can vote for any purpose unless he have real estate 
 to the value of 134 dollars. This law excludes from civil 
 and municipal privileges many Irishmen, although it permits 
 even niggers to enjoy them. Even a negro is preferable in 
 the eyes of a Yankee to an Irishman. 
 
 According as I recovered from my illness I found it very 
 necessary for me to go to some part of the country for change 
 of air, for as long as I remained confined my appetite would 
 not return. J 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 gpod long 
 drive before coming to the house, which was close at hand. 
 I agreed. The whole country was covered thick with snow, 
 and probably will be for several weeks, if not months. The 
 air was biting cold, but bracing and healthy. I was snug in 
 my magnificent Irish frieze coat, the envy and admiration of 
 everyone who saw it ; and the grand muffler made for me at 
 home by the fairy fingers of Miss Bride Finnegan, encircled 
 my neck and enveloped my ears, while two warm gloves 
 without fingers, of which I had been made a present, kept 
 my hands in a warm glow. We drove along the horse, a 
 splendid animal and shot over the snow like a skiff, while 
 the little bells tinkled a merry peal over the horse's back.
 
 THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 201 
 
 We met many other sleighs on the way, some driven by 
 ladies, others by gentlemen ; but ours 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 was visible, they all fled to 
 southern and warmer climates, indeed, if they remained, a 
 few weeks of starvation would have killed them all. It was 
 amusing to see the various costumes worn by gentlemen 
 driving in sleighs. Furs were the most abundant, and I saw 
 one gentleman so enveloped from head to foot in skins that 
 it would not have been difficult to mistake him for a wild 
 beast, especially as there was a something ferocious in his 
 aspect, quite in correspondence with the hirsuteness of his 
 attire. Children derive great amusement from the snowy 
 and frosty weather. They pull each other on small sleighs, 
 which they call " sleds," and take a great deal of exercise in 
 this manner. The atmosphere is by 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. Everyone appears to
 
 202 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A MERICA. 
 
 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 entree into the house, where there 
 is a very fine gallery of paintings, and he drove me over to 
 see the place. The paintings are very fine. I fancied for a
 
 THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 203 
 
 moment that I was in some gallery on the continent of 
 Europe, for the resemblance is perfect, and appears to have 
 been studied. Many of those paintings are originals from 
 European galleries, purchased at a great price, and others- 
 are very good copies. The whole is very interesting. The 
 lady of the house hearing we were there came into the picture 
 gallery and greeted Father McCarthy. He introduced me 
 and the lady hearing I was from Ireland, very courteously 
 observed that " good pictures were no treat to me," which 
 implied good paintings were rare in America. And so they are, 
 I fancy, at least paintings which are the works of American, 
 artists. Mrs. Adams pointed out the pictures which are 
 most admired, and gave the history of many where they 
 were got, what they cost, &c., &c. We bade her 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 Gushing, 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 \st. 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 DIAR 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 ^rd. I feel quite strong enough to return to town. 
 Father McCarthy came with me ; I bid him good-bye at the 
 .Parker House. I engaged the Music Hall for Tuesday, the 
 .24th inst, for the purpose of delivering my lecture on "The 
 Chivalry of the Middle Ages." I met in the street Father 
 Thomas Barry, of Rockport. It had been arranged between 
 him and me that I was to preach and take up a collection in 
 -liis 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- 
 anent, but there was no help for it. 
 
 I go by train to Lowell at 12 noon and make arrange- 
 ments to lecture there on the isth. I make the acquaint- 
 ance of a leading Irish citizen there, a Mr. Patrick Dempsey, 
 who receives me at his house, and gives me hospitality, and 
 does all in his power to promote my interests. He drives 
 me about and introduces me to several prominent men like 
 -himself, and I have considerable success. I sleep at Mr. 
 Dempsey's. He is one of the best self-educated men I have 
 found in his position of life. He is an extensive liquor 
 dealer, and highly respected in Lowell. 
 
 On Thursday I go by train to Salem, distant about 20 
 miles from Lowell. Salem is on the sea, and is I think the 
 oldest town in Massachusetts. It was the greatest strong- 
 hold oi Puritanism in the State. There is a place here
 
 THE " ATHENS OF AMERICA." 205 
 
 called Gallows Hill, where up to a comparatively late period, 
 witches were hung and burned. Within a quarter of a 
 century, all the Catholics in Salem were contained in one 
 small church ; they could easily be counted. Now they are 
 six thousand, out of an entire population of 24,000, and 
 increase from year to year. Farming and currying are the 
 staple trade of Salem. Indeed the whole atmosphere is 
 redolent of tan. As that trade was once prevalent in Cork, 
 and then fell into decay, those who were thrown out of 
 employment found, many of them, a good refuge in Salem. 
 The Cork element is very strong here. I stayed with a Mr- 
 Martin Egan, a tanner, from Blackpool, in Cork. He and 
 his wife were very kind. I was treated with the most 
 profuse and cordial hospitality by those good people. Mr. 
 Egan took me to see several Cork friends, and others 
 hearing of my arrival, called at his house to see me. I was. 
 quite at home here. 
 
 January 6th. Celebrated Mass in one of the churches. 
 Pastor, a young Irish priest, Father Gray ; his curate, Father 
 Healy, born at Muinleravsara, Co. Cork, dined with Mr. 
 Egan, who drove me to Peabody. This is a large town, so 
 close to Salem, that it is impossible for a stranger to 
 discern any line of demarcation. It is the birthplace of. 
 the celebrated George Peabody, whose statue is in London, 
 and in compliment to whom it takes its name, having been 
 formerly known as Danvers. Mr. Egan took me to see 
 Mrs. Foley, nee Buckley, a cousin of mine (?), sister of Father 
 Buckley, of Ballyclough, Co. Cork. She was very kind 
 and insisted on the relationship. I was invited by so. 
 many to come again that I have resolved to lecture here. 
 I hope it will be a success.
 
 206 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 I leave Salem for Boston in order to be present at a great 
 meeting to be held this evening in the Music Hall, to 
 protest against the occupation of Rome by Victor Emmanuel. 
 On reaching the hotel I got a great number of Cork 
 Examiners, which were awaiting my arrival, and also a 
 letter from Canon Maguire. I go to the great meeting, 
 and justly indeed may it be called great. The Hall was 
 crammed to suffocation and thousands had to remain out- 
 side who could not get admission. The Bishop was present. 
 Mr. P. Donahoe in the chair. A great number of clergy 
 also were there. The utmost enthusiasm prevailed. It was 
 indeed, to my mind, the most genuine and thorough Catholic 
 demonstration I ever witnessed. The Bishop's speech was 
 excellent, eloquent, and exhaustive he was received with 
 4. 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 
 fid nauseam. But for spirit and ardour and Catholic earnest- 
 ness, I never saw a better, nobler, or more effective demon- 
 stration. 
 
 January St/i. In bed all day with rheumatism shocking 
 and constant pain in my knee. Dr. Salter called once more 
 into requisition ; servants very kind and attentive, as before ; 
 receive visits from many friends, which is cheering. 
 
 January 12th. I feel better, get up and walk out. Here 
 and there I get an opportunity of seeing my face in a look-
 
 THE "ATHENS OF AMERICA." 207 
 
 ing glass, and the spectacle shocks and frightens me. I met 
 Mr. Boyle O'Reilly and the Hon. P. A. Collins in Washing- 
 ton-street. They express the greatest alarm at the alteration 
 in my appearance. I feel this is the best proof I could have 
 Of the bad effects of my illness. I come to my hotel, and 
 address a letter to Father McCarthy, 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), 
 4t 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. 
 
 January 15/7*. Am amused by an American gentleman, 
 whom I met at the house of Mr. John Glanny, and who 
 delivers himself of some very strange theological theories. 
 After he had explained one opinion of his, he asked me 
 what I thought of it. I said I could find no fault with it, 
 -except that it did not seem conformable with a certain pas- 
 sage in Job, which I quoted. 
 
 " Oh, but," quoth the gentleman, "I beg leave to differ with 
 "Mr. Job." His faith he summed up in the curious expression.
 
 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 
 the great lights of Boston, advertised to preach the following. 
 Sunday. Subject "What is to become of us hereafter?" 
 a sequel to that gentleman's sermon 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 " i.e., 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 othersvise, considering the audience, who num- 
 bered only 415, at twenty five cents a ticket. The nett 
 proceeds amounted to only sixty-eight dollars, a great failure 
 for so important a place. The lecture has knocked me up 
 completely. I come home to Boston as quickly as possible, 
 and go to bed. 
 
 January 2 ist. I am wonderfully improved in my health 
 since yesterday, and feel equal to anything. Went to Law- 
 rence, an important city, perhaps twenty miles from Boston, 
 on the invitation of Father William Orr, who had invited 
 me to spend Sunday with him, and preach on that day, so 
 that I might be known to- the people, 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 rne 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'Sullivan Mr. John White's stepdaughter, is 
 placed under my charge. She was never more than twenty 
 miles from Boston, and is delighted at the idea of making 
 her first visit to the great city of New York, where she is to 
 be on a visit with some friends. The whole country is 
 covered with snow. We go by Springfield and Newhaven, 
 209 miles. Miss O'Sullivan is provided with a basket con- 
 taining a magnificent dinner, to which we did full justice in 
 our little palace-car compartment. We had a very nice 
 table, and every convenience. The Americans have a great 
 notion of how to make themselves comfortable. The very 
 carriage was so heated by steam that an overcoat or hat 
 were quite unnecessary. A railway-rug is usually quite 
 unnecessary in America. I use mine only as an additional 
 blanket in bed.
 
 THE EMPIRE CITY. 211 
 
 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 DJAR 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'Sullivan, of Wall Street, who
 
 THE EMPIRE CITY. * 13 
 
 entertained us at his house at Long Branch, last summer, and 
 he is agreeably surprised to see us. In conversing v/ith 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 tfh. Dined with the Fenian Exiles this evening ; 
 it was quite a banquet. The gentleman who invited me was 
 Charles U. O'Connell. When he saluted me from the dock 
 five years ago, I little thought I would be dining with him 
 in New York. 
 
 February $th. We paid several visits to-day. Amongst 
 the other persons we visited Father Fecker, the founder of 
 the Paulists, of whom I have made mention more than once 
 already. On the subject of lectures he does not hold out 
 to me much prospect of success. He says it is very hard to 
 organize a lecture for a foreign object in New York, and 
 suggests that I should engage myself as a lecturer to priests 
 for some parochial charitable object, at a certain sum for 
 each lecture. Father O'Connell, of Chislehurst, spent the 
 evening with me and amused me a good deal by his views of 
 America ; like myself, he is surprised at the abundance of 
 turkey consumed here. The commonest dish in America 
 seems to be roast turkey. Fowl of all kind is general, but 
 the turkey is the pica 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 M ERIC A . 
 
 than one joint, and in nine cases out of ten it is a roast 
 turkey. 
 
 Nothing particular occurred until Thursday, February gth, 
 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 The 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 city as 300,000. I did not take part in the 
 procession, but took up my place in a magnificent establish- 
 ment in Broadway with my new friend, Father O'Connell. 
 It was a great holiday for the Irish. The houses in many 
 places had flags and other decorations. The heads of 
 numerous horses were ornamented with green ribbons ; 
 people carried small green flags in their hands or rosettes in 
 their coats. Many young ladies were dressed all in green. 
 The men had green neckties. Banners with " God Save 
 Ireland " hung out in many places. As the procession passed 
 women screamed with joy, and waved their white handker- 
 chiefs. It was a day of pride and jubilee. The spectacle 
 of the procession was very imposing indeed. The police 
 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 thunders of a smart can- 
 nonade typified the shouts of American welcome. Strange 
 coincidence almost at that moment Queen Victoria was 
 opening the Session of Parliament and proposing measures 
 for securing peaceful relations between England and America. 
 "While the cannon," says the paper, "in front 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 cordials 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 loaders were tandem, and all
 
 THE EMPIRE CITY. 217 
 
 were decorated beautifully banners gold-mounted and the 
 reins white. This was the carriage of the celebrated Helm- 
 bold, the druggist, of " Buchu " notoriety. The other 
 carriage was simply an Irish jaunting car, of which I am told 
 there are only two in all New York. The music of the 
 bands was bad, and the men did not seem to have the bold 
 bearing or the elastic step of their brethren at home in the 
 Green Isle. On the whole the procession was grand, and it 
 clearly proved that the love of Ireland and the hatred of 
 England is undying in the Irish breast all the world over. 
 
 To me nothing appeared so remarkable as the part the 
 police took in the procession. In Ireland they are regarded 
 as the enemies of the people, and dare not take part in any 
 popular demonstration, but are rather ordered to look out 
 for disorders and to repress them, if necessary, by the extreme 
 rigour of the musket. There the police joined in the pro- 
 cession, and seemed proud of the honour. It is no wonder 
 that Irishmen should love America, where they, once the 
 victims of barbarous tyranny, breathe a free air, and bask 
 in the sunshine of protection beneath the aegis of universal 
 emancipation. 
 
 Dined to-day on board the "Tripoli," a Cunard steamer, at 
 the invitation 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 io///. 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."
 
 2i8 DIARYOFA TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 February \\tJt. 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 izth. 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 
 mi!e long, there are sixteen churches. 
 
 Went to the Cooper Institute to hear Mrs. O'Donovan 
 Rossa read for the benefit of the widow of J. J. Geavny 
 (a Cork Fenian) who died here by falling into a boiling vat of 
 soap. A crammed and most enthusiastic house General 
 Tom Burke in the chair. The lady was beautifully dressed, 
 green being the predominant colour. Every poem she read 
 had, of course, a highly national complexion, and the telling 
 points evoked furious rounds of applause. A lady from 
 Cork whom I knew at home as Miss O'Brien (Mrs. Pollick) 
 sang at the piano. A gentleman named Waters came for- 
 ward and recited " Sham us 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
 
 220 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 " R6berts, Roberts ! " This is the famous Colonel Roberts, 
 once the head of a Fenian split of a split. I learn afterwards 
 that the gallant Colonel had a lot of fellows paid to call on 
 him. The air was filled with cries of " Roberts," and at last 
 the Chairman came forward and asked was Colonel Roberts 
 in the hall. The Colonel, who was at one of the doors 
 modestly concealed, then marched up the whole length of 
 the hall, appeared on the platform, took off his outside coat, 
 and with a voice of thunder made a rattling speech on 
 " Irish Nationality." He gave all the old claptrap, " these 
 gallant heroes," " England's accursed tyranny," " Ireland's 
 imperishable rights, founded on the principles of God's 
 eternal justice," &c., &c., all well committed to memory. He 
 paced the stage, and if England saw him then she would 
 have trembled for her very existence. All this was a bid for 
 the Irish vote ! All got up by the astute Colonel himself. 
 Curious engraftation on the programme of the evening, but 
 puffing and advertising is the great Yankee notion. General 
 Burke in returning thanks to every one, thanked Mr. Weber 
 for the loan of his splendid piano. Good for Weber. 
 Fenians, buy your pianos at Weber's ! The gent who was 
 hissed for " Shamus O'Brien " comes forward, one would 
 think to apologise ; but no, it was a mere little bit of trade : 
 "Ladies and gentlemen, I beg to inform you that a full 
 report of this evening's proceedings will appear in to-morrow 
 evening's Globe" and so closed the proceedings. I 
 adjourned to Mrs. Attridge's and, late for the cars, slept at 
 Father Mooney's. 
 
 I go in the afternoon with Father Crowley to his place at 
 Huntington, Long Island. We go by ferryboat to Hunter's 
 point, and thence by rail two hours' ride, to Huntington. The
 
 THE EMPIRE CITY. 
 
 ground is almost all covered with snow. Father Crowley 
 pointed out to me as we passed along a very large tract of 
 ground which the millionaire Stewart, New York, has pur- 
 chased, and which he is laying out for the purpose of 
 building a city on it. Big idea that ; big idea. That reminds 
 me of another American phrase, " We. had a big time," /.<?., 
 a very jolly time. Again : " W.e 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 r 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 2 I.T/. 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., &<x Had to
 
 222 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 zznd. Ash-Wednesday, Washington's birthday 
 a fast day and a feast. Business suspended through the 
 States shops closed, flags floating in the breeze, and bands 
 playing through the streets. I came home at 3.30 p.m., 
 and arrived at New York at 6. Letter from a friend telling 
 me of the rumour at home that I have been appointed canon. 
 It is only a rumour, but to me it is a matter of very great 
 indifference. I would not give ten dollars for the honour. 
 I spend the evening quietly at home. No new impressions 
 gained, but old ones strengthened. Thus there is very little 
 social enjoyment in America, and such as does exist is 
 generally fast and wild, a violent outburst. The pervading 
 idea everywhere is the dollar above and beyond all things. 
 
 I spent the evening at the house of a family named 
 McCarthy, Third Avenue, all from Cork, nephews and niece 
 of Mr. Charles McCarthy, Grand Parade, Cork. We enjoyed 
 ourselves 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 zyd. 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 i2th 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^ fire telling something to 
 a person and you do not wish to tell it all, either because 
 he understands it or because you don't care that the by- 
 standers should learn all about it,, you say, " You know how 
 it is yourself." I do not know, whether or not in the early 
 part of this book I made mention of a song which was in 
 the mouths of everyone on the whole continent of America 
 last summer, it is called " Shoo fly." What the words signify, 
 or pretend to signify, I could never learn ; but meaning 
 seemed to be a matter of no consideration. The burden of 
 the song was simply unintelligible, but the air was pretty. 
 Everyone had it ladies played it on the piano, and boys 
 whistled it in the streets. New fashions in dress, new articles 
 of attire, were called by the name of " Shoo fly." There 
 were " Shoo fly neckties," and " Shoo fly hats," and potatoes
 
 224 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 in hotels were dressed in a peculiar way and called in the 
 bill of fare, " Shoo fly potatoes." Here is the whole 
 song: 
 
 I feel, I feel, I feel, 
 
 I feel like a morning star. 
 
 I feel, I feel, I feel, 
 
 I feel like a morning star. 
 
 Shoo fly don't bother me, 
 
 Shoo fly, don't bother me, 
 
 Shoo fly, don't bother me, 
 
 I belong to the Company G. 
 
 There's music in the air, 
 My mother said to me ; 
 There's music in the air, 
 My mother said to me. 
 
 Shoo fly, don't bother me, 
 
 Shoo fly, don't bother me, 
 
 Shoo fly, don't bother me, 
 
 I belong to the Company G. 
 
 It was translated into French and German, and sung in 
 those languages, and in many more, for aught I know. 
 
 The stranger in New York, and probably in other parts 
 of America, is struck by the great number of military men in 
 civil costume whom he meets every day. Nearly every 
 second man is a general, a captain, a colonel, or a lieutenant. 
 In the British Isles we associate the idea of an officer with 
 what is generally understood as a gentleman a person of 
 good breeding, high education, fine person and easy man- 
 ners. Here it is different. I have seen a colonel keeping 
 a gin shop, and a major setting type. Passing Sweeny's 
 hall I encounter a group of men dressed as artisans, one of 
 whom knows me. He at once introduces me to the rest. 
 One is captain, another major, a third colonel, and so on.
 
 THE EMPIRE CITY. 225 
 
 I find myself at once in the society of the ttite 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 atmosphere is disgusting, and the floor is an abomination. 
 Man approaches very close to the brute. The heat of the 
 stove and the fumes of tobacco make the air perfectly unen- 
 durable, while the floor reeks with the filthy expectorations of 
 weed-loving gentlemen. Fortunately gentlemen who do not 
 smoke enjoy the privilege of staying in the ladies' cabin if 
 they are so disposed, and I for one always avail myself of 
 that privilege. There is an article in a paper in which it is 
 gravely, and hence I dare say, truly stated that it is no 
 uncommon thing now to find receptacles for tobacco juice 
 in pulpits and in the pews of churches of all denominations 
 of the land, or if not so provided, those places are smeared 
 with the filthy compound. Gentlemen take tobacco into 
 their mouths, as men in Ireland take snuff into their noses. 
 In the same article "Slang in the Pulpit," a preacher is 
 represented as having said " Some time ago I knocked the 
 bottom out of hell, and now I am going to hammer away at 
 the sides." Another says, after laying down what he con- 
 sidered a wholesome maxim, " Stick a pin in that." Another 
 on a similar occasion, " Put that in your pipe and smoke it." 
 A third relating an anecdote broke off at a certain point and 
 said, " You know how it is yourself." 
 
 Every evening some gentlemen visit me and spend an 
 hour or two, The man that pleases me most is Stephen 
 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
 
 THE EMPIRE CITY. 227 
 
 Mackay comes and spends an hour with me this evening. 
 He is a remarkable person, small in appearance, but high- 
 souled as man could be ; capable cf bloody exploits, and a 
 planner of daring " raids," yet almost monastic in his 
 religious habits and style of living. 
 
 March $th. Come by train to Boston. Am visited by 
 Mr. John White. Hear Mass at the Church of the 
 Immaculate Conception. A very fine church and most 
 respectable congregation, admirable music, and first-rate 
 sermon from Father Fulton, S. J. I was very much pleased 
 with the whole thing. I saw at Mass Doctor and Mrs. Salter. 
 I met them coming out, and they introduced me to Doctor 
 Marshal, an English convert of some considerable fame, an 
 Oxford man, and author of a clever work entitled, History cf 
 Christian Missions, and a publication that caused great amuse- 
 ment a few years ago, viz., The Comedy of Convocation. 
 
 If there be one thing more admirable than another in 
 this country, it is that no man is ashamed to labour, and no 
 kind of labour is despised. Also that you may associate 
 with any man, and bring any man into any company, and 
 all are "gentlemen." You may sit down and eat and drink 
 with the coachman who drives you, and introduce the gentle- 
 man to every one around. Men of wealth are always " boast- 
 ing " how they began life with nothing. How they became 
 shoe-blacks, or tailor's apprentices, or newsboys, and crept 
 up into wealth. And somehow in society you discover no 
 classes of rank. All men seem to commingle on a broad 
 common ground. The conversation to be sure is not above 
 the reach of the humblest intellect but the manners of all 
 are polite, and the poorest man is bold and independent, 
 and speaks correctly and with force.
 
 228 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 March i ith 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 \2th. 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, 15 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 gth. 
 He has been twice across the Atlantic since. He was 
 accompanied by Dr. Johnson of the same ship, and they 
 invited me to come and see them to-morrow on board the 
 vessel.
 
 "A PRIESTLY FENIAN? 229 
 
 CHAPTER 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 thfc 
 scenery here is very fine. I had been introduced to a gentle- 
 man, Judge Wood bury, 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.
 
 2 3 o 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 
 Trunk 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 Y FENIAN." 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 " Almighty Dollar." The reader's 
 imagination must supply the style of costume, but the lady 
 illustrated the theology of the age and country. 
 
 March i6///. 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 17 th. 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 wiih 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
 
 -232 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 church, and form there when Mass is over. Accordingly at 
 10 o'clock thsre 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 eKves, also are present. High Mass is about to be 
 sung, Bishop Pinsonnanet is to sing it, a very handsome 
 old gentleman with a fresh countenance, and grey hair. The 
 church is thronged, and the bands enfilade up the nave playing 
 the national air. This has a thrilling effect. The members of 
 several Irish societies are present, each with a collar of velvet 
 and gold. A messenger summons me from the sanctuary. 
 I meet Mr. Devlin, who wishes to introduce me to the mayor, 
 Mr. Coursal, who is decorated with the civic chain, and is a 
 Catholic. When the church is full it contains about 8,000 
 persons, and it is crammed to-day. I had no idea there 
 would be so magnificent an audience, and that the spectacle 
 would be so splendid. The green banners give a grand 
 aspect to the scene, and the shamrock decorates every 
 breast. The Mass was beautifully sung, and the effect was 
 greatly improved by a solo on the organ at the offertory of 
 a pure Irish character nothing less than the " Minstrel
 
 "A PRIESTLY FENIAN" 233 
 
 Boy." The sermon was by Father Hogan, of St. Anne's. 
 At the end of the Mass the procession began to form. The 
 weather had been wet, and the ground is covered with 
 hard snow since last December. Hence under foot it is all 
 wet and slushy, and walking without slipping is a matter of 
 considerable difficulty. But I must walk ; so I accompany 
 Father Dowd and Father Singer, who march in their sou- 
 tanes, and have bearskin caps on their heads. I slipped 
 once or twice, and this puts me on my guard. I take 
 Father Dowd's arm, and even so, get on with great 
 trouble. It was the most difficult three miles I ever walked, 
 and the dirtiest. Such a state as my clothes were in ! Oh, 
 holy St. Patrick, what did I ever do, that you should treat 
 me so ? It was, nevertheless, a grand procession ; the 
 music was excellent, and in some places there were triumphal 
 arches, with legends indicative of the blended feelings in 
 the breast of religion and nationality. The spectators and 
 gazers from windows enjoyed it as it passed along ; but 
 there was no shouting, no disorder. I asked if this proces- 
 sion gave offence to any party. No ; on the contrary, all 
 classes of people liked it, and would be greatly disappointed 
 if it did not take place. I looked in vain for a drunken 
 man. Strange to say, drunkenness is almost unknown in 
 Montreal, and even in all Canada. This is very creditable 
 to our people, and clearly proves that there is nothing in 
 the national character incompatible with temperance. 
 
 In the evening there was a grand concert in St. Patrick's 
 Hall, Mr. Devlin presiding. There must have been 2,000 
 people in the Hall. At the right of the chairman sat 
 General Dart, U.S. Consul to Canada, and at the left was 
 my sell'. I found that an address was to be delivered by the
 
 2 3 4 D1AR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 Rev. M. B. Buckley, in the second part of the programme- 
 During the intermission, Gen. Dart was called on, and said 
 a few words. Then my turn came. It was a difficult audi- 
 ence to address, Catholics and Protestants, Irish and Cana- 
 dians some in favour of British Government, others opposed 
 to it. I was loud on Irish religion and patriotism, and 
 "death" on English tyranny. I had my audience in the 
 best of humour. After the speech I retired to get a drink 
 of water, when a gentleman pressed my arm. I turned 
 round, saw a handsome young fellow in full dress, and 
 gazing at me with a pair of sparkling black eyes. " Turgeon," 
 I exclaimed. He was no other than the young lawyer 
 whom I met in the steamer " Georgia " from Quebec to 
 Pictou last August. Our greeting was of the warmest 
 description. He had come to the concert solely to meet 
 me, having seen it announced that I was to deliver an 
 address. We make an engagement for to-morrow and sepa- 
 rate. After the concert there are refreshments for the elite. 
 The people here are so like our own in their manners and 
 habits, and so different from the people in the States. Con- 
 sidering everything, the day was a success for Montreal. 
 
 Sunday, March iqth. 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
 
 "A PRIESTL Y FENIAN." 2 3 5 
 
 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 two sisters. We talked a good deal of 
 D'Arcy Magee. John Burke made me a present of a short 
 sketch of his life, which I intend to read. The Irish in 
 Canada are very content, pay little taxes, desire no change, 
 at least the masses ; it is only a class seek for annexation. 
 
 March 2ot7i. 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 likes. Lately a Protestant clergyman of this 
 city, in the course of a lecture rebuked England much more 
 severely than I did, and yet there was no comment too 
 laudatory for his harangue ; but a priest is at once pounced 
 upon by those lions of the Press, and his words and conduct 
 are shown up to the contempt and scorn of the world. In 
 fact I am informed that nothing has occurred in Montreal 
 for a long time that has so much stirred up the strife of party 
 as this. The Gazette exhorted my friends to drop me, to 
 give me no further patronage, but my friends are not going 
 to take the advice 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 FENIAN." 237 
 
 tunately the Irish lack that blessing of cohesion which would 
 make them a compact body, a phalanx of strength, and thus 
 a terror to their enemies. 
 
 At St. Patrick's there is a comic servant, Patrick, from 
 Nenagh. He is general servant, and I meet him every 
 morning when he helps me to breakfast. He is the purest 
 Paddy I ever met, appearance, accent all but his peculiar 
 phrases and style of speaking are most amusing. He says 
 something new and strange every day. " Take an egg, sir," he 
 says one morning, "that beefsteak is no good take an egg, sir. 
 I'll put one down for you, and the water is just in the humour." 
 " Pa trick, this tea is not very strong," I say. 
 "No, sir," says Patrick, "'tis young yet, leave it grow." 
 Speaking of Father Toupin, one of the priests here, a 
 wiry, active man, Patrick said, " Sir, he's as hardy as a 
 wild-duck," and of a very thin young lady he remarked that 
 she was " as thin as a saw." Last summer when I was here, 
 my slumbers every morning were disturbed by a grating 
 noise, at the unearthly hour of twilight, and long after. This 
 noise was occasioned by an old man sawing logs of wood for 
 firing just under my window. I spoke of the matter to 
 Patrick, and he said, " The deuce take the old corncrake." 
 I was vastly amused because the lively imagination of Patrick 
 just struck off a good idea of the noise which I had in my 
 own mind, but could not realize, as he did. After one of my 
 sermons, Father Leclair said to him, " Well, Patrick, what 
 do you think of Father Buckley ? " 
 " Lave me alone, sir, he's a terror ! " 
 His description of the cold of a Canadian winter was 
 vivid, but I could not transcribe it, for it was conveyed more 
 in gesture than words.
 
 238 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 " And Patrick," said I, last summer, "I am told that the 
 River St. Lawrence is quite frozen over in winter so that 
 people can walk across it for months." 
 
 " To be sure, sir," says he, " there's not a word of lie in 
 it, and I can tell you its no joke to freeze that river with the 
 current that's running through it. It begins to freeze about 
 Christinas, 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 zznd. Left Cork Harbour ten months ago this 
 day. How quickly those ten months have fled. 
 
 Patrick is as usual amusing at breakfast. He pours out 
 the tea with his left hand. " Paddy's left," says he, " is his
 
 ' "A PRIESTLY FENIAN.* 239 
 
 bully hand," and when he places the butter on the table he 
 says le bare (beurre), imitating the French which he hears so 
 constantly spoken at table. When I was done breakfast he 
 exclaimed, Tout finit. But in all these sayings of our 
 Hibernian valet, the real humour consists not so much in 
 the things said as in the way in which he says them. 
 
 I forgot to tell you of the strange circumstances of my 
 meeting very frequently one gentleman, and only one who 
 travelled with me across the Atlantic last summer. He is a 
 young gentleman named " Tolley." We met him first at the 
 pier of Toronto, next in St. John's, N.B., thirdly in Boston, 
 which he left for some months and found us again on his 
 return. Last Wednesday morning while I was seated at 
 breakfast at the St. Lawrence Hall, Montreal, I was tapped 
 on the shoulder, and on turning round saw my friend Mr. 
 Tolley. We were both astonished at the circumstance, for it 
 was singular that he and I alone should meet of all the pas- 
 sengers. 
 
 March 2~>rd. I did not know until this morning the 
 flattering epithets bestowed upon me at some loyal festive 
 gathering of "true blues" assembled ere-yesterday to cele- 
 brate the wedding on that day of the Marquis of Lome with 
 the Princess Louisa in this good city of Montreal. A 
 Reverend Dr. Burns called me a " priestly Fenian," and the 
 other speakers intimated that now while a strenuous effort 
 was being made to broach disloyalty, here was a becoming 
 occasion for the display of the opposite feeling. My even- 
 ing was spent with Mr. Donovan, the Corkman to whom 
 Mr. Maguire alludes in his " Irish in America," as an instance 
 of what may be done by an Irishman here who relies on his 
 industry and temperance. Mr. Donovan is President of the
 
 2 40 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 Temperance Societies of Montreal, a very worthy man 
 indeed. He told me that only one member of their society 
 could boast of having taken the pledge from Father Matthew, 
 and that man is so superstitious that he is firmly persuaded 
 that if he broke that pledge, God would strike him dead. 
 
 My host also amused me by telling me of an incident 
 that occurred while he lived at Salem, Mass. It illustrates 
 the absurd length to which fanatacism can carry men. Some 
 stray prophet announced that the end of the world was to 
 take place on a certain night, and that the elect were to be 
 taken up to heaven. The " elect " believed, and actually 
 gave away all their property, cleared out their houses of all 
 their worldly goods, reserving only a decent dress in which to 
 make their entrance to the Kingdom of Eternal Glory. Some 
 of the ladies were dressed most gorgeously. It was quite a 
 sight to witness the entrance to the church from which the 
 elect were to be translated. They spent the night in prayer, 
 sighs and groans, but they were not translated. Those who 
 gave all away found themselves paupers next morning. One 
 man who had been very rich consoled himself by saying the 
 event could not be long postponed. 
 
 March 2^th. I go by appointment at one o'clock to dine 
 with Doctor Kinvin. 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. 
 leComte 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 PRIESTL Y FENIAN." 241 
 
 accent of all parties, particularly of Mrs. Kirvvin and the 
 Count, brought me back from the democratic atmosphere of 
 the United States, which I had been breathing for months, 
 to the serener and loftier aerial surroundings of aristocratic 
 life, and yet aristocracy is too full of airs, it seems too hollow, 
 too affected to win admiration. Both phases of life-discipline, 
 if I may so call it, have their faults. The principal of demo- 
 cracy is rational and good, but it is abused in the States. Every 
 menial flouts his equality with you in your face, but then in all 
 the studied speeches of the well-bred English or Canadian 
 gentleman, in the precision of his movements and the accuracy 
 of his dress, in the evidently forced chivalry by which he 
 devotes himself to the ladies, and in a thousand other odds 
 and ends by which he seems to study how to talk without 
 tripping, there is too much of the artificial, too much to 
 confine the soul and contract the heart, too much generally 
 understood to be insincere, which takes from the dignity of 
 mankind and makes friendship only a name indeed. 
 
 The Count went away early, and the Doctor took me into 
 his drag and gave me a long drive along the St. Lawrence 
 to Lachine, a drive I took last summer with the Burkes. 
 The river however, presented a very different appearance 
 now from that which it had last summer. It was thickly 
 frozen over, and we saw people passing across. At one 
 point it presented the appearance of an immense lake, five 
 or six miles across, on any part of which a carriage might 
 drive with safety. Only at this season no one knows when 
 it may break up, and it would be too venturesome to try it. 
 The rapids were frozen, and the ice there presented the same 
 face of disruption and confusion as the rapids themselves. 
 It seemed as if the tumbling waters had been caught and 
 
 R
 
 242 DIAR V 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 hope that the like will never 
 occur again. 
 
 Sunday. Preach to-day for Father Hogan. Fine church, 
 and splendid congregation (Griffinstown). Have a nice 
 drive with Father Leclair, to Hochelaga, the eastern bank of 
 the St. Lawrence, which is all frozen over hard, white and 
 thick. Opposite, about three miles distant, is the village of 
 Longuiel, and I see horses drawing sleighs across the river, 
 foot-passengers and skaters. There is a regular road across 
 the river from Montreal to Longuiel. It has been there all 
 the winter, and seems covered over with straw and other 
 refuse. Return by the Wharf, where I miss the busy aspect 
 of the shipping which I found here last summer. Not a 
 small boat is to be seen. This stoppage of navigation all 
 through the winter and spring is a great drawback to the 
 prosperity of Montreal. It becomes an inland city for half 
 the year. Dine to-day with the Burkes, at Michael's house. 
 They are very good and kind. Miss Burke presents me
 
 "A PRIESTLY FENIAN? 243 
 
 with a very handsome pair of slippers which she wrought 
 for me. 
 
 March ztfh. The ground is all covered with snow, but 
 the sun shines out gaily. After dinner, at 1 1.30 o'clock, I walk 
 out and call at Turgeon's offices. He soon appears, and we 
 have a chat. I then propose a drive in the country. Dr. 
 Kirwin, who keeps livery stables, told me that I might at any 
 time order a horse and carriage at his place. I accordingly go 
 and order a carriage to call at M. Turgeon's office at 3.15 
 o'clock. It came punctually, and we drive along, Turgeon act- 
 ing as charioteer. He intends to take me to see the Ottawa 
 river, which is about five miles from Montreal. The afternoon 
 is very cold, but I am wrapped in my Irish frieze, and he is 
 still more snugly enveloped in a coat made of the skin and 
 fur of some wild animal. We had just passed a toll-gate 
 about a hundred yards when one of our shafts lost a screw 
 and nut, and became useless for travel. We turned back, 
 and the toll-keeper, an Irishman, soon got us over our diffi- 
 culty. I doubt if any man is so ready in an emergency, or 
 so inventive of the means for mending it. The toll-man 
 cast his eyes about and saw some wire in a neighbouring 
 fence. He instantly cuts off some of this wire and, with it, 
 connects the shaft to the beam to which it had been screwed, 
 and, in fact, "fixes it up" as strong as ever. Offering him 
 many thanks, which he duly acknowledges to "your 
 reverence," we pursue our journey. We pass by a great 
 number of waggons, all driven by French-Canadians, with 
 whom Turgeon familiarly chats in their own tongue. They 
 appear to be very polite and extremely respectful to him, 
 not that they all know him, but that they seem to have a 
 great deal of that respect for aristocracy which exists among
 
 244 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 OUE 
 carriage passes. I thought within myself ho\v 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 ii> 
 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 FENIAN." 245 
 
 which homage should be paid is to the aristocracy of 
 intellect. 
 
 The day is fearfully cold, but our great coats and buffalo- 
 robe make it less biting. At length we reach the restaurant 
 of M. La Jeunesse, where Turgeon appears quite at home. 
 He rattles away in French to the host, and shows me over 
 the house. It is crowded on Sundays, for this is a favourite 
 drive. We walk to the river and view it from a large wooden 
 arched bridge which crosses it here. A broad river covered 
 with ice, except one part where a tremendous current flows. 
 The scene is very fine although it is wintry and cold. 
 Turgeon's birth-place is some three or four miles farther on 
 across the river, Terrebonne (Terra Bona Ban-tir), and he 
 is anxious I should see it, but not to-day, it is too late. 
 
 We return to town in our carriage. The Mountain (Mount 
 Royal is covered with snow, so are the fields in some places), 
 and the domes and spires 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 2Wi. 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 7 
 thus conveying that a far-down, that is a Northern priest, 
 could not enter fully into the feelings of her Cork husband. 
 
 March 27 th. 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 a 
 feather she is a lady, if a muffler, she is only a woman. For 
 some few weeks here in the winter there were no ladies. 
 The cold weather banished feathers and introduced mufflers 
 and clumsy head-dresses. Then every person who called 
 here was, with the boy, only a ' woman.' But when the cold 
 disappeared for a short time, none but 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 PRIESTL Y 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 z&th. 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 
 their enemies. } 
 
 March 2^/1. The Gazette is out this morning with a 
 leader headed " Irrepressible," in which it deals pretty 
 severely with me, reiterating its charge of Fenianism, and 
 refusing to accept any explanation except as glosses made in
 
 248 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 CatholiCj 
 in a city which some have rather inconsiderately designated 
 as the " Rome of America." 
 
 March 30/7?. This morning the proceeds of the lecture 
 were handed to me by Mr. Donovan. I went at once 
 and turned them into a Bill of Exchange at the Ontario 
 Bank, of which Mr. Stamers is the manager. The news- 
 papers are quiet to-day. 
 
 I pay a few visits and prepare to leave the city. Some of 
 my friends meet me at the terminus. We part. I cross the 
 St. Lawrence, over the Victoria Bridge, and the huge river 
 is still frozen hard and thick. I go from a region of cold to 
 one of genial warmth, and from one people to another very 
 different. A young gentleman with glasses and a very 
 scholarly air, introduces himself (Mr. George Isles). He 
 offers me Mark Twain's " Innocents Abroad, " which I read 
 and enjoy very much. It lessens the tedium of a very long 
 journey. The country all around is very flat, and presents 
 a pleasant cultivated aspect, and the trees everywhere give 
 the scene a charming picturesqueness. We reach St. Albans, 
 and Mr. Isles directs my attention to the large number of 
 emigrants we brought, and whom the carriages are now dis- 
 gorging. The word emigrants is associated in my mind with 
 the Irish, and I was startled by the expression of my com- 
 panion. But these are only emigrants from Canada French- 
 Canadians on their way to the factories of Massachusetts, 
 to which they flock at this season, but return home in the
 
 "A PRIESTLY FENIAN." 249 
 
 summer, for they are a very home-loving people, so are the 
 Irish, perhaps still more. 
 
 We take refreshments at St. Albans. Mr. Isles branches 
 off, and I take the Vermont Central Route. As I am to 
 travel all night, I am to have my first experience of the 
 sleeping-car. At the cry of " All aboard," I step into the 
 sleeping-car. The conductor is at the door, cold and 
 indifferent. I say, like one who knows all about sleeping- 
 cars, " I want a berth, please." Perhaps this was a mistake 
 it looked like confounding trains and steamers. From his 
 impassive features I could not see whether he detected any 
 greenness about me. He only said, " All right, step in 
 there," pointing to a place behind a curtain. I wondered 
 did this conductor ever smile, or did he ever say an unneces- 
 sary word ? Is he always the conductor? Does he ever sing 
 or be social? Has he a wife, and does he take his children 
 on his knee and pet them ? He seemed to me to be the 
 incarnation of office. So is it with most American conduc- 
 tors. One would think that they had accepted the position 
 in a pure spirit of condescension, and that the position ought 
 to be very grateful to them for so doing. 
 
 I sit on a kind of narrow bed. It faces the stove, and so 
 I am very warm. I take off my hat and coat. Mark Twain 
 is no use, for it is dark, and in this berth there is no place 
 for a lamp. What shall I do ? Is this the bed, where is 
 the pillow, where are the bed clothes, or are there any? 
 Ask the conductor ? Oh, no ! He probably would not 
 answer me. I lean against the panel and doze, and then I 
 feel very sleepy. At last I make a pillow of my outside 
 coat, and lie down awaiting the issue. I don't know how 
 long I may have been asleep, but I was waked by a question.
 
 250 DIARY 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 motion I slept, but its stopping always woke 
 me. We passed through Burlington, the chief city of 
 Vermont, and next morning at 5.30 reached Troy, which 
 must be somewhere about 150 miles from New York. The 
 accommodation for washing in sleeping-cars is not recherche, 
 and there was no hair comb or brush, so that I did not feel 
 very clean when I stepped on the platform of Troy. Here 
 is a splendid refreshment room considering the point of 
 size but of what kind are the refreshments ? I sat at a 
 small table, and a nigger almost as nonchalant as the con- 
 ductor, attended me. " Tea and eggs," I said. When they 
 did arrive, after a considerable delay, the first egg proved to 
 be rotten. I appealed to the nigger, but he said it wasn't 
 so bad, that it was about the best to be got, and most people 
 did not object to eggs in such a condition. I replied, I only 
 envied the stomachs of such people. The tea was some 
 abominable decoction of hay and heath, and other indefin- 
 able herbs. I ordered coffee for the next cup, but the tea 
 was nectar in comparison, the bread was damp, and the 
 butter, like the egg, far advanced in decomposition. The 
 only genuine article of the breakfast was the payment oi 
 some extravagant number of cents. But I only heave a sigh
 
 "A PRIESTLY FENIAN? 251 
 
 for old Ireland, and change cars for New York. We steam 
 away through a long street of Troy, as if a railway train was 
 as innocent as a wheelbarrow. We kill no one, however. The 
 people are scarcely out of bed yet. Soon we move by the 
 pleasant banks of the Hudson it is a charming morning. 
 The Canadian cold is gone, but I find traces of snow thus 
 far south. 
 
 March $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 gth of February, known as 
 the New Hamburg disaster, when, at night, by collision with 
 a petroleum train, some carriages were precipitated into the 
 frozen river, some 25 people were drowned, the bridge was 
 burnt, and all America was shocked for a moment. We 
 reach it at length, it has been newly built, we crawl over it 
 at snail- pace, and I see the charred timbers of the old bridge 
 sticking up gloomily from the placid waters. When we are 
 over, I feel very comfortable and fear no farther danger. 
 
 Queer names of places here "Catskill," "Pigskill," " Fish- 
 kill," and " Poughkeepsie," the three latter being names of 
 towns on the Hudson. It was on this line I first noticed 
 the nuisance of newsvendors, and vendors of all kinds 
 in railway carnages. "While you are quietly reading, you 
 are startled by a book or a paper, or a package of " hop
 
 -252 DIAR Y OF A TO UR 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 things, 
 and if you buy them, why you give the money when the man 
 comes round, or if not he takes back his wares. It never 
 ceases, when they have left one series of things in the laps 
 of the passengers they go over the same process with some- 
 thing new. 
 
 CHAPTER 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 
 raw, but good for exercise. Charley proposes we begin the 
 walking ; so we start along Broadway, stepping into Trinity 
 Church (Protestant) on the way to look at it. A fine 
 church, with a splendid stained glass window. We are 
 sorry we cannot say our prayers : we can only think them. 
 We march along until we come to the Battery, Castle 
 Garden, and all that. Before reaching those places, how- 
 ever, we find ourselves in a handsome round square, where
 
 NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 253. 
 
 there is an iron railing enclosing a green plot, where **iere 
 are some high trees. The upright iron bars of this railing 
 were, while the English ruled here, surmounted by heads of 
 George III., but during the revolution the heads were torn 
 off by the Americans, and made into shot to turn on the 
 English. It is easy to see the signs of the wrenching. The 
 place where the British Consul lives is close by, and is. 
 distinguished by two lions couchant, one at each side of the 
 doorway. We got on board the ferry-boat for Staten Island. 
 I had a most delightful trip across the spacious basin within 
 the harbour. It reminds me somewhat of Queenstown, and 
 if not as gay in summer time, is far more active. All kinds 
 of craft are plying about with truly Yankee smartness. 
 Little tug-boats particularly, which, like all small agents,. 
 even in humanity, strive to make up for diminutiveness by 
 an affectation of gigantic energy. There are two Trans- 
 Atlantic steamers, Guion and a Cunard, both apparently in 
 quarantine, for smallpox prevails here just now. The sun 
 makes the water dazzle, and I long to tread the deck of one 
 of those vessels, and sail out the harbour's mouth, straining 
 my eyes for the rugged coast, and the green fields, and the 
 dear old hills of my native land. 
 
 April ith. 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 IN AMERICA. 
 
 I think, 42 beam, most gorgeously fitted up. Before we 
 went out I should have said we had a tumbler each of boiled 
 milk ; but, alas ! it was not milk. What was it? What was 
 it like ? I know not ; but one thing I am certain of it was 
 not milk. This is too bad. That when a man pays his 
 honest money, he will not get an honest article. But what 
 can you expect in a country where it is notorious that a 
 fortune has been made by a dealer in wooden nutmegs, and 
 that a man saved his bacon by the sale of wooden hams. 
 Nothing is genuine here. How so many escape poisoning 
 is to rne mysterious. 
 
 I preach this evening at St. Paul's church. Brooklyn is 
 a fine city, with, probably, half a million of inhabitants. It 
 is always on the increase. The number of houses built 
 within the past twelve months in Brooklyn exceeds fifteen 
 thousand ; and yet there are men living who remember 
 when there was not a stone on a stone in this great city. 
 When Archbishop M'Closky, of New York, was preaching 
 a few years ago, at the laying of the foundation stone of the 
 new Brooklyn Cathedral, he used words to this effect : 
 " Well I remember when there was not a stone or a brick 
 house in all Brooklyn where I was brought up in my child- 
 hood, when only a few wooden shanties skirted the water's 
 edge, and when I, a little boy, was accustomed to walk with 
 my little Irish mother along the sand on a Sunday morning, 
 and went by a small ferry-boat across to New York, to 
 Barclay-street church, almost the only one then in that 
 great city, to hear Mass. Little indeed did I then think that 
 this great Brooklyn would be the third city of the Union, 
 and that that little Irish boy would fill the proud position in 
 which He whose ways are unsearchable has placed me."
 
 NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 255 
 
 April St/i. 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, everyone was seized with a craving 
 for bitter beer, or sherry-cobbler and ice beverages of all 
 kinds. Men threw off their coats, and children swarmed 
 out of doors like ants, some very lightly clad, and some 
 simply statuesque. The sun asserted itself, the pavement 
 glowed beneath the feet, the imagination bore men away to 
 the seaside to Staten Island, and Longbranch, and nature 
 longed for a cool bath in the swelling salt-sea waves. Brows 
 glowed with heat and pearls of perspiration rose on the fore- 
 head, handkerchiefs were plied with unusual vigour, and as 
 if summer were impatient of postponement, there was one 
 veritable case of sun-stroke a man named Elishah Divan. 
 Neither the prophetic influence of his first name, nor the 
 Oriental magic of the second, saved him from the fatal stroke 
 of that fire-king, whose rays glow hardly more fiercely in his 
 own torrid realms of the east. 
 
 Crossing from Brooklyn, where I slept last night, I beheld 
 with gladness, such only as that with which summer lights 
 up the heart, the sparkling waters, as it were, dancing with a 
 suddenly inspired ecstacy for the return of the gay and joyful 
 time, and to my vivid fancy, the sloops and schooners, with 
 their white sails wafting them swiftly through the waves, 
 appeared like birds of passage, returning from cooler zones 
 to the brighter and more genial azure of their own. 
 
 April gth. Easter Sunday. The heat to-day is intense 
 as hot as anyone could desire. A cool breeze would be
 
 256 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 a luxury, yet it is not that fearful heat of a New York sum- 
 mer which renders people utterly incapable of doing any- 
 thing it is pleasant and comfortable ; but much walking, 
 would make it disagreeable. The streets are very gay and 
 bright. People wear their holiday costume, and now and 
 then a young girl appears in blue dress trimmed with white, 
 and with white satin shoes, and mayhap a bouquet. Some 
 fair child, who has just emerged from some church where she 
 was a processionist, or had been to receive holy communion. 
 The sight of so much beauty and innocence in this worldly- 
 minded city on this great holiday has a peculiar charm. And 
 apropos of the religion of New York, I may remark in passing 
 that there is a great deal of religion here, especially amongst 
 our people. The priests are always hard at work and are 
 really most zealous. The churches are crowded on Sundays ; 
 but what I have observed most is the spirit of religion 
 that animates most individuals whom I meet in private life. 
 I have met a great number of men of whom it might be said 
 that they were Christians in the true sense of the word 
 anxious to do good for themselves and others, deploring the 
 temptations to which they were exposed particularly temp- 
 tations to drink, and making, aye, and keeping, stern resolu- 
 tions to resist them. Indeed in one word, I may say that I 
 found as much true religion in New York of a solid unosten- 
 tatious character as ever I met at home. I have no doubt 
 that many neglect their religious duties altogether and perhaps 
 'Jose 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,
 
 NEW 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 
 the preachings of the Herald, he would find he had created a 
 monster more hideous than Frankenstein a union of 
 anomalies which no mind could grasp no intellect recon- 
 cile monstntm horrendum informe ingens citi 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 off it, are very gay to-day, because to-morrow 
 is to be celebrated the " Peace Jubilee," namely, a general 
 rejoicing for the termination of the late war between Germany 
 and France. In this celebration the Germans alone are to 
 participate, and it is said that it is to be one of the grandest 
 public spectacles ever witnessed in the United States ; that 
 the great object 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
 
 258 DIARYOFA TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 houses, some immense in size, others ordinarily large, the 
 rest dwindling down to the size of a piece of paper. The 
 only flags observable are the German (black, white and red), 
 some few Bavarian, and the American " Star -Spangled 
 Banner." " The Deutchers " are all out in holiday costume, 
 and assume an air of unusual importance, as if New York 
 were theirs for the next twenty-four hours. And no one 
 seems to interfere with these delicious feelings of self-com- 
 placency on their part. Indeed that is one of the things 
 which a stranger, and particularly an Irishman, observes most 
 in this city every nationality celebrates its own festival, 
 whatever the occasion may be, without offending others- 
 The Germans look on and admire the Irish processions, the 
 Irish are equally generous to the Germans the only 
 nationality whom the celebration of this " Peace Jubilee " 
 could hurt would be the French ; but though 40,000 strong, 
 they will keep quiet, and to give the Germans their due 
 they make no allusion to France in the matter, but think only 
 of the peace ! Again, I remark the immense number of 
 children in this German quarter. To almost every house 
 there are steps, and those steps are crowded with little boys 
 and girls making a terrible din, while the old folks sit 
 admiringly outside the door, Mein Herr generally smoking 
 his meerschaum, and the Frau Gemahlin reposing with her 
 hands folded and calmly resting on that amplitude of sub- 
 pectoral development which seems peculiar to the ladies of 
 Deutschland. 
 
 April iof/1. 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 their 
 foreheads gave the idea that even the brute creation rejoiced 
 with the exulting Germans. Now and then through the 
 dense mass of ordinary citizens, would pass some German 
 in the costume of a Prussian soldier, or a bandsman, or a 
 member of some society, with an appropriate badge cr 
 decoration betokening the coming gala. Later on huge 
 waggons gaily festooned and inscribed, pass along drawn by 
 six or eight horses, occupied by men of the various trades, 
 and bearing the emblems of their craft, all proceeding to 
 Tompkins Square, Avenue B, which is the general rendezvous, 
 the starting and finishing point of the procession. 
 
 At eleven o'clock I also betake myself to Tompkins Square, 
 or rather to Father Mooney's house which commands it. 
 There is no language of mine by which. I could convey the 
 beauty of the spectacle all through the German quarter. 
 The thousands of flags of yesterday seem to have multiplied 
 a thousand fold, and myriads of Chinese lanterns are hung 
 out in preparation for the illuminations in the evening.
 
 2 60 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,
 
 NE W YORK IN SUMMED. 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 
 night into day ; fireworks were going on in all quarters ; 
 rockets mimicked the stars ; hundreds of thousands prome- 
 naded the streets. All through the city, wherever a German 
 habitation stood, were decorations and illuminations. Every 
 Bier- Halle swarmed with lovers of lager, and of the whole
 
 262 DIAR y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 demonstration it can be safely said that it was one of the 
 most magnificent spectacles ever witnessed in any great city 
 one of the grandest demonstrations by which a wealthy, 
 a patriotic and a united people sought to prove that they 
 were entitled to the respect and honour of the country they 
 had adopted as their own. 
 
 April \\th. Mark the vicissitudes of the American cli- 
 mate. The hot broiling weather is gone, and a cold, harsh, 
 <lust-making March wind has set in again. This is another 
 clay 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 yist Regiment have a ball. Previous to 
 the ball there is a military drill. Twelve candidates com- 
 pete for three prizes a silver-mounted musket, a medal and 
 a cup. The drilling is rather monotonous, and it lasted a 
 good while. The whole spectacle, however, was very fine. 
 The hall is a very grand building half-theatre, half hall 
 with galleries and boxes. The pit was all hidden from view, 
 covered over with a flooring placed for the purpose of 
 dancing, and easily removable. A great number of officers 
 were present, and they looked like officers i.e., gentlemen, 
 like ours at home, and very unlike the colonels and captains 
 I have met in undress. Perhaps if the latter were dressed 
 en militaire they would look as soldierly ; but take men as 
 you find them. The evolutions appeared to my unpractised 
 eye very well performed ; but, strange to say, the two whom 
 I thought best were not amongst the rewarded. These two 
 were the only ones whose exercises were applauded by the 
 audience, which I regarded as a flattery to my own judg- 
 ment j 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 ; 
 they 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
 
 z4 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 being only a spectator, I am, of course, a cynic. Well, 
 hope so, I heartily hope those butterflies enjoyed themselves 
 They certainly looked very pretty from a distance ; th< 
 tableau was charming, and I trust they will all feel bette; 
 to-morrow morning. 
 
 The notorious Colonel James Fisk, junior, better known 
 as " Jim Fisk," was here, in full regimentals, a good-lookim 
 man, but I thought sensual-looking, perhaps because I know 
 that he is sensual. All the world knows it, and " Jim }; 
 makes no effort to conceal it. He is the most notorious 
 man (excepting, perhaps, Train) in the United States ; but 
 Train is " played out," while Fisk is yet in the ring, and 
 likely to be. He is proud of being the biggest roue, the 
 most successful swindler, the least God-fearing, and the 
 richest man in America. He speculates in everything, and 
 everything thrives with him. He is in the papers every 
 day, for something or another. He seems to enjoy an 
 immunity from the perversity of his excesses, because he 
 is wealthy, and America is a slave to Mammon, and to all 
 Mammon's hierarchy. Fisk is the best living type of an 
 American, his motto being, " Rem, rem, quocunque modo, 
 rem." He is at the top of Fortune's wheel to-day. To- 
 morrow his coat may be trailing in the dust to-day his 
 friends swarm around him and do him homage to-morrow, 
 if he fall, the homage-giving group will be scattered to the 
 winds. But this is the old, old story, and my philosophy is 
 growing common-place. J have seen Jim Fisk, I go home 
 contented. 
 
 April J2//Z. A curious thing about shops in New York, 
 and more or less with other cities I have seen here is the 
 strange mode of advertising. I was aware before now, that
 
 NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 
 
 tobacco sellers generally hung out a sign in the shape of a 
 man smoking. Here is every variety of such statuesque 
 symbols of trade. They abound at tobacco stores. In one 
 place, it is a statue of a red Indian with a bunch of cigars 
 in his hand. He is duly accoutred with feathers, tomahawk, 
 and apron. In another place, a squaw does duty, but a 
 squaw with an amount of beauty, and symmetrical grace or 
 form which we associate only with the Caucasian race, some 
 tobacco sellers have before their doors on a pedestal, a life- 
 size form of a charming young lady attired as " the girl of 
 the period," with extravagant chignon, a preposterous grecian 
 bend, short dress, close laced high heeled boots, smoking a 
 cigar. Whatever be the artistic excellence of these figures 
 in a sculptural point of view, they are all painted most gor- 
 geously, and with a perfectly rainbow like variety of colouring. 
 Outside some shops it is a Bashaw with a turban, and loose 
 trousers pulling a long pipe. Outside another it is a nigger 
 decked out with striped pantaloons, white hat, and frilled 
 shirt, smoking a cigar. In some places it is a soldier, in full 
 costume, with a box of cigars in one hand and the other 
 pointing to the " store " where those unparalleled Havanas 
 or Partigas may be had. By the way the word cigar is 
 generally spelt " segar " in New York. 
 
 Other trades beside the tobacco dealers have what I call 
 their statuesque symbols. On Broadway outside an umbrella 
 store, is on a pedestal, the full length statue of a man 
 holding a blue umbrella in his hand open over his head, on 
 a wet day. You envy the fellow, he succeeds so well in 
 keeping himself dry. On Broadway also stretching out into 
 the street from the very top of a house is a gigantic figure 
 of a bear, to imply that bear-grease, and other ointments
 
 266 DIAR Y OF A 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 wonderful institution the noise, bustle, baggage, 
 carriage, beauty, ugliness, age, youth, flash and plainness, 
 aristocracy and shoddy ; the tears and smiles and kisses, and 
 waving white handkerchiefs all around the tender as she 
 bears her living freight to the big ship out in the harbour. 
 
 Now and then, in newspapers, you see advertisements 
 that amuse you, because they are so unintelligible to you,, 
 although to the initiated no doubt they are full of interest. 
 I cut out the following lately, which appeared to be empha- 
 tically American, or at least not European. " Local items 
 Green turtle soup and stakes at the Terrapin, little neck 
 clams always on hand. Clam chowder for lunch this day." 
 I should like to know what an Englishman would guess the 
 "Terrapin" to be, what are his notions of Neck Clams r 
 especially little ones, and what sensations would be excited 
 in his stomach by the expectation of lunching on Clam 
 Chowder ? 
 
 I see by a paper of this day's date that the number of 
 thieves in New York has been computed to reach 30,000.. 
 
 Funny little fellows those New York shoeblacks. They 
 abound in London, and are generally found in places most
 
 NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 267 
 
 frequented. The shoeblack looks at your boots as you pass 
 and if he observes that they are soiled, he cries at you inter- 
 rogatively, "Shine?" Now a stranger would have no 
 notion what -he means by this monosyllabic enquiry, but the 
 initiated knows that he means " your boots are soiled, shall 
 I make them shine ? " Indeed contraction of expression 
 is cultivated everywhere in America, and one remarkable 
 illustration of it is found in the way people designate the 
 streets in ordinary conversation. They generally leave out 
 the word street ; for example, instead of saying " Summer 
 Street," they will say " Summer," or corner of "Summer," 
 and " Washington," "19 Court," and so on. 
 
 Went this evening by the Broadway Stage. The " Stage" 
 is just the same as our omnibus, and here it runs only along 
 Broadway and some adjacent avenues ; the horse-car goes 
 through most of the other streets. I cannot help being 
 astonished at the cleverness of the stage drivers. Remark : 
 there are hundreds of stages and stage drivers. He sits on 
 the box outside. He must have his eye out constantly for 
 persons wishing to ride by his stage ; he counts the number 
 as they enter, pulls the door after them by a string fixed to 
 the place where he sits ; receives the money through a hole 
 in the stage. Should a passenger delay payment he warns 
 him by a bell to pay up. The money, which is nearly always 
 paper, requires sometimes to be changed, he manipulates 
 and changes with surprising dexterity, although in cold 
 weather he wears gloves, and clumsy ones, and this he does 
 by night as well as by day, and all the while guides his pair 
 of horses through the immense and bewildering throng of 
 carriages, waggons and other stages that crowd this perhaps 
 the most carriage-driven street in all the world.
 
 ^68 DIAR Y OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 I find myself lapsing into that American expression, " in 
 ill the world." Last year I laughed at a gentleman who, in 
 what I considered a spirit of national amour propre, pro- 
 nounced Broadway the finest street " in all the world." I 
 am beginning to veer round to his opinion perhaps because, 
 my long absence from other great cities diminishes my 
 powers of comparison ; I cannot say, but surely this evening 
 passing along Broadway I fancied that no street could sur- 
 pass it for beauty, long, straight, broad, thronged full of life 
 and bustle, " brilliant and bright," with thousands of human 
 beings passing along, with its magnificent houses, most of 
 them five and six storeys high, some even higher, all lit up, 
 some with plain gas, others with coloured lights of every 
 -design that fancy could suggest ; the theatres illuminated as 
 if for some great festival, a dazzling lime light beaming from 
 the roof of one and lighting up the whole street for miles at 
 either side ; a running glance into the restaurants and re- 
 freshment rooms as we pass a long vista of tables daintily 
 laid out for supper, and a countless number of ladies and 
 gentlemen regaling themselves amidst a firmament of lights, 
 in a word, an aggregation of all that speaks of wealth, 
 grandeur, beauty, bustle, life, elegance, taste and magni- 
 ficence, all this is to be found in Broadway. 
 
 On our way home I remarked a curious machine that I 
 had not seen before. It was a huge waggon drawn by two 
 horses, which might be called a union of brush and a box. 
 As the machine passed, the brush, a circular one, revolved 
 quickly and swept all the dirt of the street into the box. It 
 ought to be called the " Mammoth Chiffonier." It made 
 the cleanest sweep of the streets I ever saw or thought 
 possible.
 
 NE W YORK IN SUMMER. 269 
 
 April 15/7*. 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 ia 
 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. 
 
 Aril\bth. Sunday. Celebrated Mass and preached to a 
 very small congregation. In this church there is Mass only 
 every alternate Sunday. Father Crowley, the only priest, 
 has to go off 20 miles every other Sunday to a second church. 
 This was the Sunday for no Mass in Huntington, but he sent 
 abroad word that a strange priest had come and would say 
 Mass. The congregation were wonderfully well dressed con- 
 sidering they were only villagers, and Irish. The day was 
 charming, and we had an exquisitely charming ride visited 
 a large empty house which the Jesuits have just bought with 
 forty acres of land, for the ridiculously small sum of ten 
 thousand dollars. The situation is wonderfully fine, on an 
 eminence commanding a vast prospect of land and water.
 
 2 7 o DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A ME RICA. 
 
 In the neighbourhood are some breastworks thrown up by 
 the English in the time of the War of Independence. We 
 visited the landlord, Mr. Lloyd, a gentleman of English 
 descent, and very English airs, a man of education and 
 elegant manners, but strangely aristocratic. I say strangely, 
 for how a man can preserve aristocratic airs in this country 
 is to me difficult of comprehension. 
 
 I was amused driving through some woodland here, to see 
 the antics of the squirrels among the trees, it was the first 
 time 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 
 office, Nassau Street. He is editor of the Irish Citizen. I 
 claim more than ordinary regard from the fact that I was a 
 friend of his dear friend Father John Trenyon of Templederry. 
 Mr. Mitchel is a prematurely old, broken down man. The 
 conversation turned on patriotism, politics, &c., and he 
 ventilated some very strong revolutionary principles. He 
 alluded to my book, " Father O'Leary," which he had read, 
 and reviewed it in his paper. Of Father O'Leary he was no 
 admirer. He deprecated his loyalty to the British throne. 
 " No good Irishman," he said, ' could be loyal under any 
 circumstances to English rule." 
 
 I receive two engagements to-day to lecture at terms 
 one hundred dollars each lecture. One at the Athenaeum, 
 in Brooklyn, for the orphans under the charge of the Sisters 
 of Mercy, the other at Camden City, N.J., tor Father Byrne, 
 P.P. I accept both. 
 
 I rise to-day much better than any day for the past week.
 
 NE W YORK IN SUMMER. 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//fc. Preached at St. Andrew's Church, after 
 which went by invitation to the consecration of the Church 
 of St. Rose of Lima (Father McKenna,) Cannon Street. 
 The Archbishop (McCloskey,) Bishop Loughlin of Brook 
 lyn, and Bishop Mullen of Erie were present, also about 
 fifty clergy. Vast and most respectable congregation. Sermon 
 by Father 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 church 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 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 April 2-]th. 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 $oth. 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 
 arc swept away, but on the return of the wind they are 
 brought back again. 
 
 The Delaware river lies along the railway, a magnificent 
 river rising in the State of New York, about 500 miles long, 
 and joining the sea about 100 miles below Philadelphia. I
 
 NEW YORK IN SUMMER 273 
 
 reach Camden at 8.30 p.m. It is dark ; I am driven to the 
 house of the pastor, Father Byrne, who has engaged me to 
 lecture to-morrow evening for 100 dollars, at the solicitation 
 of his assistant, Father Hogan, once of Brisbane, whom I 
 met in Ireland. Father Byrne I met the first time. He is 
 a young man, thirty-three years of age, and six feet six 
 inches high, very muscular, and very zealous. 
 
 Sunday. 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
 
 274 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 number of gentlemen, members of the local Father Mathew's 
 Temperance Society, are at present in the church, and wish 
 ^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 the door for him and me. 
 We drive to Redbank, which we reach at twelve o'clock. 
 There is a regatta on the river, which is so broad here that 
 it resembles a great lake. Not far from this, and quite in 
 sight of the spot where, in the war between the Americans 
 and English, a man-of-war belonging to the latter was sunk 
 by guns fired from this spot. The ship was the "Augusta," one 
 of the largest in the navy at that time. She has been 
 recently got up, and now floats in the dock at 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 other very young ladies all 
 of whom are very useful in laying the dinner on the green 
 sward at a point commanding a lovely view of the great
 
 NE IV YORK IN SUMMER. 275 
 
 river. There are about forty yachts spread over the lake- 
 like surface of the Delaware, many of which are racing and 
 the rest spectators of the contest. There are steamers also 
 conveying hundreds of sight-seers down from Philadelphia 
 and following the course of the yachts. We had " a good 
 time." 
 
 We return homeward in the same order, Father 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 and mettle on, 
 our side. At length when it was quite clear that he was 
 defeated, Father Byrne pulled aside and let him pass. 
 
 Tuesday. Day excessively hot. Go across to Philadel- 
 phia with Father Hogan, who takes me into a hatter's and 
 makes me a present of a Panama hat, which I don at once. 
 He wears one, too. Nobody minds a priest wearing such a 
 hat here in the streets. I take him to see Mr. Moorhead, 
 the gentleman whose acquaintance I made on board the 
 " China " coming out last year. We reach the house indi- 
 cated in the directory, 1612 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.g., "Walnut," "Chestnut," "Pine," " Vine," and many 
 more I cannot call to mind. But unfortunately Mr. Moor- 
 head has left this house and gone to reside far out in the 
 suburbs. What fault could he have found with this house ? 
 I think the finest in the whole street, built of cut granite, 
 with a Grecian portico and steps. It was furnished in the 
 most sumptuous and elegant style, and we could see even 
 some marble statuary within apparently of great size and 
 beauty. Coming home we see hundreds of Quakers going 
 to meeting at their house in Arch Street. They meet very 
 frequently this month. Their costume is the same here as 
 at home, plain and clean. We spend the evening at the- 
 Cassidys very nice elegant people consisting of Mrs. and 
 Miss Cassidy, her daughter, Mrs. Jenks, Mr. Jenks, the 
 husband of the latter lady. Our conversation was more or 
 less literary, philosophical, &c. 
 
 May isf. Eleven months in America. I call on the 
 Rev. Dr. M'Glynn of St. Stephen. He invites me to preach 
 next Sunday. Spend the evening with Father O'Farrell 
 (jun.) of St. Peter's, Barclay Street, a fine young gentleman. 
 We had company and spent a pleasant evening. 
 
 The great topic of New York at present is this A few 
 evenings ago (Sunday, April 23rd), a Mr. Putman a mer- 
 chant, of Pearl Street, New York, was riding in a street car, 
 escorting to church two ladies, mother and daughter. A 
 young man named Foster enters the car, and acts with 
 impropriety towards the young lady. The gentleman comes 
 to the rescue, and, of course, offends Foster. The latter 
 says " wait till I get you out." Accordingly when the party 
 got out, so does Foster. Seizing a car-hook attached to 
 the vehicle, he breaks the gentleman's skull. The latter-
 
 NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 277 
 
 i 
 
 '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 
 by 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 -znd. This evening walking in one of the streets, I 
 -see walking on before me a number of young men whom it 
 was impossible to mistake for anything but Irish peasants, 
 .and I also fancied that they had just arrived. 
 
 " Boys," said I, addressing one with a pipe in his mouth, 
 " how long are you out here ? " 
 
 "This minute, your riverence, we arrived," said he. 
 " Put the pipe out of your mouth," said one of his com- 
 panions in Irish. "Don't mind your pipe" said I, in the same 
 'tongue. They gazed in astonishment, and then ensued a 
 conversation in the Celtic, from which I gathered that they 
 were from Tuam. 
 
 "And how is Archbishop McHale?" said I. 
 " Well as he ought to be," was the reply. I hope these 
 poor fellows will escape the many dangers that beset "green- 
 horns " in this country. 
 
 The names of the streets here are painted on the gas-lamp 
 at the corners, and very seldom on houses. Strangers are 
 here some time before they find it out it is very useful at 
 night. 
 
 Manhood suffrage by ballot is the great pride of America 
 but in New York it is a humbug. Votes are bought and sold 
 with unblushing coolness, and many candidates for office who 
 obtain majorities are counted out by bribed scrutators. A 
 .thousand evils accrue from this, for example, there is no rule
 
 2 7 8 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A M ERIC A . 
 
 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 4/7*. 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 5//z. Received this morning, a handsome tribute of 
 praise of my lecture from Mr. Sweeny, proprietor of the 
 hotel in the shape of a cheque for One Hundred Dollars. 
 Dine this evening at Fifth Avenue. This is the most 
 aristocratic quarter in all New York. While surveying the 
 magnificent apartments, furniture, c. I thought of the 
 pride which some of our aristocrats at home feel over their 
 houses. But, on the other hand, a thing very amusing here 
 is the remarkable contrasts between the style of the houses 
 and the style of their occupants. In many cases, no doubt 
 not in all, most of those who are wealthy were once poor 
 and uneducated, ignorant of fashion what are called the 
 " shoddy aristocracy." When they became rich, they pur- 
 chased a great mansion on Madison or Fifth Avenue. They 
 gave a commission to an upholsterer to furnish according 
 to improved taste, regardless of expense. Similar commis-
 
 NEW YORK IN SDMMER. 279 
 
 sions were given to the bookseller, the painter, the china- 
 ware man, and thus the great houses were fitted up in right 
 regal style : the human birds once accustomed to the wild 
 freedom of poverty, now plumed themselves, and strutted 
 about in their gilded cages, peeping out with their bright, 
 sharp proud eyes at their former associates abroad, as if 
 they would say " why can't you get a pretty cage like this?'' 
 Plebeian specimen of the onnis, " avaunt ! I pity thee ; I 
 live on Fifth Avenue, chirp, chirp, chirp." But it is a 
 vulgar chirp, and savours much of West Cork and Kerry, 
 and the mountainous region of Sligo. No matter you get 
 a good dinner, at the right hour, at seven or half-past, and 
 the wines are excellent, so are the "segars," the real 
 Habanas, or the genuine Henry Clays, and you wind up 
 with a good game of billiards at a table worthy of a club. 
 And then next day, you are able to tell your friends that you 
 were sorry you could not have called last evening, but really 
 you could not accomplish it, you had to dine with a friend 
 on Fifth Avenue. Should the person you address thus live 
 " down town," he feels suddenly elated by the apology, for 
 it is a high honour to him to have on the list of his friends, 
 one who actually dined the previous evening on Fifth 
 Avenue, and who seems to regard the circumstance as 
 quite an ordinary event in his life. There is not a more 
 aristocracy-loving people on the face of the earth, 
 than your American democracy. 
 
 May igt/i. Spend this evening with Mr. and Mrs, Lyons, 
 Greenwich Street very litttle aristocracy here ; but a vast 
 deal of genuine good nature, and warm hospitality. We 
 were about fifteen, and we were all Cork people. There was 
 & Mrs. Flynn, formerly of Nicholas Street, Cork. I remember
 
 28o DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 the name well, and I remember the lady's mother ; once a 
 friend of my mother's. This lady remembers me a child. 
 Her daughter, Miss Flynn, is also here, so are a whole family 
 of the Draddys, of Quaker Road, out here for the last thirty- 
 years a mother and three sons. At home they were stone- 
 cutters ; here they are " sculptors " a most respectable 
 family indeed. We had a very pleasant evening ; some capital 
 singing, and agreeable dancing. The old lady, Mrs. Draddy, 
 danced as gaily as if she were only fifteen. I could not help 
 feeling, when I saw the air of respectability that marked these 
 young men their thoroughly gentlemanly behaviour, and 
 whole bearing when I saw the happiness of the woman 
 I could not help feeling that things would have been very 
 different with them if they had remained at home in Ireland. 
 The stone-cutters would be very little regarded the iron 
 that cut the stone would enter their souls ; and their manly 
 airs inspired by the aegis of American freedom would be the 
 downcast bearing of men crushed by a diabolical legislation. 
 May 2Qth. 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 \ve took the steamer, 
 accompanied by Mr. Nicholson, Commissioner of Charities, 
 and proceeded to KandalPs Island. Great respect shown 
 the Comptroller and his friends everywhere. Flags flying 
 from the buildings on the islands Foundling Asylums, 
 Orphanage for boys and girls. The boys turned out in 
 military array with mimic guns, and marching with a band. 
 They drilled before us under the guidance of their drill- 
 master and one stepped forward on the part of the rest, 
 and delivered an address to us. We saw all the asylums
 
 NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 281 
 
 the idiots were an interesting though painful study one boy 
 particularly was dreadful to look at the smallest head I 
 ever saw no forehead long nose receding chin no ex- 
 pression in the eyes whole body stunted he looked very 
 like a monkey. 
 
 The "Soldiers' Home" was interesting lame, infirm, 
 poor broken down soldiers, supported by the State. 
 
 The " Inebriate Asylum " for drunken men and women, 
 came next. The treatment is simple hard cases are gradu- 
 ally weaned. About four days is sufficient to administer 
 stimulants before final abstinence then good plain food and 
 exercise for a few months but many relapse. In Black- 
 wells Island are asylums for all kinds of human infirmity. 
 Saw here a woman 107 years old. Democratic idea 
 realized Mr. Nicholson sees a young woman in bed and 
 asks of the nurse "What is the matter with that young lady ? " 
 The diseases are all beautifully classified here, so that 
 the hospital for the sick is rather an aggregation of hos- 
 pitals. There is a large room in this Island made in 
 the shape of an isolated house, which might be called the 
 calisthenic department A lunatic man plays the piano, 
 while, at the direction of a sane young woman, other women, 
 for the most part paralytics, epileptics and lunatics, exercise 
 themselves, to the time of the music, at dumb-bells, poles, 
 etc. ; this develops the muscles, and promotes health gene- 
 rally. In fact, these institutions are magnificent ; the 
 buildings are of the first style of architecture. No expense 
 is spared. Light, air, room, cleanliness, good diet, fostering 
 care, benevolence, religion, the ministrations of the Sisters 
 of Mercy these are the great features of management one 
 discovers here. Hence, as far as nature permits, you dis-
 
 2 3 2 DIAR Y OF A TO UR 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 j 
 but, as you took the plate from his hands, you could not 
 forbear saying, "Thank you, sir." There was no degra- 
 dation in his helping you he felt there was not, and you 
 felt it too. In this spirit he once or twice struck the comp- 
 troller on the shoulder while we were at dinner, and starting 
 back, exclaimed, " Well, Richard, you're looking splendid." 
 I thought, as I gazed on the complacency of Richard under 
 this operation, how differently an English millionaire would 
 have treated such a familiarity on the part of a menial ; but 
 this is a glorious country, where " a man's a man." We go 
 again on board the " Minnahannock," and get back to the 
 city, delighted with the day's enjoyment. 
 
 This evening, standing in the hall of the hotel, I converse 
 for a few moments with General Halpin. We shake hands, 
 and rush out into the street to catch a car. In a moment 
 there is a cry, a rush, and a crowd ; the General has fallen, 
 and is under the wheels of the car. I almost know he is 
 dead, so evident does it appear; but, thank heaven, he is 
 not. He is got out, and on examination it is found that he
 
 NE IV YORK IN SUMMER. 283 
 
 only has sustained a nervous shock, while a small bone in 
 his shoulder is broken. 
 
 I go to Father M'Carthy, Forty-second Street, where I 
 am to preach to-morrow. His servant, Mary Ryan, knew 
 me at home. She was servant at the Mercy Hospital when 
 I was chaplain there. 
 
 Sunday. The heat was so intense that I scarcely closed 
 my eyes all night. I was frequently forced to rise and pace 
 about the room. Preached at 10.30 Mass, after which an 
 old man comes round who knew me at Ballyneen long ago. 
 I remembered him ; his name was Donovan. The poor 
 fellow was in tears the whole time he was speaking to me. 
 Father M'Carthy, who was a spectator of the scene, was. 
 deeply moved. The day is fearfully hot. I spend the 
 greatest portion of it with Father M'Carthy and his curate, 
 Father Brophy. 
 
 About three o'clock I come home. At five the sky 
 darkens, a fierce wind suddenly rises, clouds of dust rush 
 through the streets. The people fly, anticipating a storm ; 
 gay dresses are fastest in the race. It is really fearful to 
 look at, it is so violent, dark and sullen, and seems so to 
 prognosticate something worse. I look through my window 
 at the flying crowds they laugh and shout at the fun of the 
 thing. Such is the pride of human nature, that when we 
 are really in distress we laugh to pretend that we are indif- 
 ferent. Then begins the rain ; the huge drops fall heavy, 
 one by one. Oh, the cool sensation of the wind and rain, 
 after the heat it is delicious. 
 
 I have to go hear a lecture to-night in Father M'Alea's- 
 church, Twenty-fifth Street. I go through the gloom, damp 
 and desolation in the cars, into which some young women
 
 284 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 <:ome, who have folded up in handkerchiefs their saturated 
 skirts, and appear in their white petticoats, dripping flowers, 
 blooming still, but blooming damp and bespattered. Father 
 M'Alea is an old gentleman a fine old fellow with long 
 grey locks, and a good deal of the Nestor in his reminis- 
 cental style of conversation. He is in America for the 
 last fifty-two years, and is always promising to revisit the 
 land of his birth. It is not likely that he'll ever do it. The 
 lecture is well attended. 
 
 My friend Mr. Healy comes round he was at my sermon 
 to-day, too, with Madamoiselle Contan. He takes me to 
 the Grand Hotel, Broadway, where we have coffee. A young 
 lad, perhaps 22 years old, attends us. He speaks English 
 perfectly, and yet he is French, Dupret, born in France. 
 Asks me do I speak Irish ? I say yes. He then speaks 
 Irish, and does it very tolerably. And yet he was never in 
 Ireland, except for a few days, when a vessel in which he 
 was sailing put into Sligo through stress of weather. He was 
 quite a litterateur, a philological phenomenon. "I could 
 manage the Irish very well," he said, " but the articles and 
 prepositions bother me." Rather cool for a waiter. But 
 this is a great country. N.B. A cant phrase I never heard 
 before "Cutting up shines" somewhat like our "running 
 a rig," is applied best to a man who unexpectedly pursues a 
 course of conduct for which the public are not prepared, 
 e.g., Dr. Dollinger, Pere 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. They have tea ready, after which we all sit on 
 hammocks fixed to the trees outside the house, and loll 
 there in the moonshine, enjoying the cool, refreshing air,, 
 and charmed with the rural silence and solitude, compared 
 with the din and bustle of New York. We sang old songs, 
 and my memory, with those two ladies beside me, goes- 
 back to that pleasantest episode in my life, the days I spent 
 at Coolmountain. 
 
 May $ist. Rain, heavy rain, but very refreshing, and 
 most welcome to the parched earth, which swallows it 
 up as quickly as it falls. A young gentleman, George C. 
 O'Donohoe, calls ; he is from Brooklyn, he lounges about 
 with us the whole day. We were to have a day's fishing, but 
 the rain has put a stop to it. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Farrelly, of Jamaica, L.I., calls and dines, so 
 does Augustus O'Donohoe, brother of George aforesaid. 
 The rain lightens, but it scarcely ceases all through the day,, 
 so that we can only lounge about. A little variety is caused 
 by the fact, as announced in the papers, that in the village 
 to-day, at 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 all sort o' shines" in the public street. I 
 doubted it, having come to the conclusion lately that there 
 is nothing at all wonderful in the world; wonders exist 
 only in man's imagination. Like the hero of the comedy, 
 " LHomme Blase" I have tried everything, and "there's 
 nothing in it." But we go down to the village. There i& 
 a crowd, and a man is haranguing them from a carriage, to
 
 2&6 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 which a pair of horses are attached. It appears he had 
 just driven those horses "all round," and that he made 
 them do all kinds of obediences. But the burden of his 
 speech is not only that he can train any horse, but that he 
 can teach others to do the same ; let them come, then, and 
 put down their names ; the charge is only five dollars. He 
 has a bit here a bit mounted by himself " the bit of bits," 
 as he modestly called it, and also a book on the horse, 
 written by himself. The bit and book can be had for two 
 dollars. In all this there seemed a good deal of the char- 
 latan. When a number of names had been booked he 
 commenced another performance. This consisted in bringing 
 forth a pure milk-white steed, his own property, and placing 
 him in a ring formed of a rope held by the people all round. 
 This steed he made do all kinds of things walk, dance, 
 snort, yawn, fetch a handkerchief, nod assent, smile with 
 satisfaction, and frown with fury point its forefoot or hind- 
 foot as ordered, put out its tongue, and do a variety of 
 other things. It was curious and amusing, but not wonder- 
 ful, as I have seen horses do exactly the same in a circus. 
 Another horse he produced, and a greyhound. The latter 
 he made jump on the horse's back, and stand or sit while 
 the horse galloped round. Nothing very wonderful here, 
 except that the poor dog seemed to be in agony between 
 the fear of the whip on the one hand, and the fear of a toss 
 on the other. But no savage horse was experimented on, 
 no volunteer brute. I only beheld a piece of task-work, 
 done, I suppose, the same way every day in the year by 
 the same performer ; yet it was a diversion to us in a small 
 village on a rainy day. 
 June \st. The fun is all over and depression succeeds.
 
 f 
 NE W 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 
 reach the city about 9.30 o'clock. Spent the evening 
 with a Mr. O'Mahony, of Clinton Avenue, Brooklyn. Mr. 
 O'Mahony is a Cork man, and I was informed that he wished 
 to know me, and give me a contribution for the Cork 
 Cathedral. I found him and his wife living in a magnificent 
 house in a fashionable quarter a house splendidly and 
 elegantly furnished. Why will people speak with contempt 
 of the Irish ? They only want fair play for the exercise of 
 their talents and industry. If they gain wealth they know 
 .how to purchase with it the rational enjoyments of life, and 
 to adapt themselves to an exalted position as well as people 
 of any other nationality of the world. Mr. O'Mahony has a 
 splendid library, and if I am to judge by his conversation, he 
 -makes good use of it. He thought I might be induced to 
 remain for the night, and proposed that we should go across 
 to Mr. M'Conville's, a friend over the way, who keeps a 
 billiard table. But I compromised matters; I said I wouO 
 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 znd. Very warm day. I divert myself writing a 
 description of the " Cork River," which I shall probably have 
 published in one of the papers here. In the evening I go 
 to Brooklyn to Mr. O'Mahony and sup with him and Mrs. 
 O'Mahony. At 8 o'clock we go across to Mr. M'Conville's. 
 Mr. M'Conville is a self-made Irishman, very wealthy, living
 
 288 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 in a palatial residence on Clinton Avenue. A smart man,, 
 as is evinced by his success in life. Here are a Mr. O'Rorke 
 and a Mr. Hennessy, the latter a Cork man, both well to do 
 ui 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 appear* 
 to be the common luxury. I am happy to say that amongst 
 the clergy, as far as my experience goes, temperance appears 
 to be the rule. Indeed, after one year I am able to say that 
 I have not met in society any gentleman, lay or clerical, the 
 worse for drink. The impressions on this matter which I 
 had before coming here have been erased. Calumny and 
 prejudice injure countries as well as individuals. 
 
 N.B. Nothing is more remarkable in this country than 
 the literary mediocrity of the newspapers. Perhaps the least 
 entitled to respect is the leading journal, the Herald. In- 
 ks articles and in its correspondence in fact all through it 
 there is a coarseness, a vulgarity, a cant, a recklessness 
 of style, debasing to literature. This remark applies more 
 or less to the other organs, especially the smaller ones, such. 
 as the Sun, Star and Globe. In all there is a disposition to 
 treat all kinds of subjects, even the most grave and solemn, in 
 a spirit of levity every feeling is sacrificed for a joke. In 
 treating matters of the most serious nature, there is a play on
 
 NE W YORK IN SUMMER. 289 
 
 words. The writer never ascends to dignity, or if he does, he 
 jumps down again into absurdity. Even when enforcing 
 morality he appears to scoff at it, thus, the Herald, while cor- 
 recting those who ignore eternal punishment, describes it as 
 " perpetual roasting," clearly proving that he ridicules the idea 
 which he pretends to preach. In this general condemnation of 
 the Press literature of New York, I donot include the Times, 
 Tribune or (very pointedly) the World. The last mentioned 
 paper is slightly tainted with the common vice, but not 
 much. The Times and Tribune are dignified. But in almost 
 all is one patent vulgarity, and that is a desire for alliteration 
 in headings. I subjoin a few headings of this kind 
 " Personal Prattle," " Literary Lispings," " Cream 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 very 
 
 u
 
 2 go DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 rtcherch'e 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 \$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
 
 NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 291 
 
 by were gorgeous, many of them, while all were elegant. 
 There was the inevitable Helmbold and his six horses, there 
 also was the irrepressible Jim Fisk there was the demi- 
 monde and its attaches boisterous, rollicking, and gaudy. 
 The racing was poor compared with ours the contest for 
 precedence coming home was remarkable, fast trotters, once 
 over " nothing in it." 
 
 Spent the evening with a family named Walter the father 
 Irish came out poor has made a fortune. The old story, 
 he cannot see why every Irishman should not come to 
 America. He could not live in Ireland now would not be 
 happy there no matter how wealthy he might be. When I 
 tell him I could not live in America, he stares and wonders. 
 He loves Ireland to be sure, and longs for her freedom, 
 et cetera, but as a place to live in, he regards it as one might 
 regard Labuan or Honolulu. The two things that Irish 
 people in America have against Ireland are : first, the diffi- 
 culty of making a fortune or a living there ; and secondly, the 
 grinding oppression of the law, as compared with the large 
 freedom and equality that exist in this great continent. 
 Equality ; a very good thing, but like all other theories, some- 
 times awkward in practice. For example : in the Comp- 
 troller's office, are gentlemen with salaries ranging from 
 two thousand to ten thousand dollars a year. Now these 
 salaries enable all those gentlemen to live in a manner quite 
 in keeping with the name of gentlemen ; and I must say, 
 having met them all, that they are equal in respectability to 
 most persons I have met at the other side of the Atlantic. 
 Nevertheless, the very door-keeper, a man named Reardon, 
 addresses Mr. Lyons as " Stephen," and sometimes with the 
 still closer familiarity of the diminutive " Steeve " while
 
 2 9 2 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 this very evening a young shoe-black who turns in to clean 
 the boots of the gentlemen before going home, when asked 
 by " Major O'Rorke," another official, to clean his boots, 
 says " Right away, I have to shine Mike's first," Mike being 
 Mr. Michael Maloney. This is equality with a vengeance. 
 
 Charley O'Connell told me last evening that Dr. Byrne 
 had invited him and me to the Jerome Park races for to-day. 
 I accept the invitation. Charley meets me at 10.30, and 
 Dr. Byrne joins us soon after. We proceed by car to 
 Twenty-first Street, where we are introduced by Dr. Byrne 
 to his friend Mr. Moore, and Mr. Connolly, a common 
 friend, tums 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 
 Avas executed by an Irishman named Power. The course 
 is reached ; we go on the grand stand, where we recognise 
 many friends, who swarm round us, and form " quite a 
 party." The events of the day are very interesting, the 
 horses very well bred, the racing good jockey-racing, all 
 flat. Here again my countrymen distinguished themselves. 
 Three Irishmen won men with the very Hibernian names 
 of Coffee, Kelly and Shea. Indeed whenever an Irishman's 
 horse went out he came in the winner. Mr. Moore, whom 
 I instructed to point out all the celebrities to me as they 
 turned up, next directed my attention to "Reddy, the black- 
 smith," who might be called " the hardest case of a rowdy" 
 in New York. Reddy is famous for many daring exploits, 
 the last of which was the killing, in a drinking saloon, of a 
 bigger rowdy than himself namely, Jimmy Hagerty. The 
 murderer was acquitted for two reasons : first, because he 
 was acting in self-defence the other, because " he has im- 
 mense political influence." Reddy is an Irishman ; he is a 
 low, square-built, hard-featured man with a white coat, 
 Panama hat, pat on recklessly, and a thick red moustache. 
 Several fellows who owe him a grudge are watching for the 
 opportunity of doing for him, and they will, thus saving the 
 hangman a great deal of bother, and the public a great deal 
 of maudlin cant. 
 
 When the races were over, the first man that started 
 for home was Jim Fisk. Mr. Moore also pointed to me
 
 2 94 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 Mr. Vanderbilt, the richest man in America. He is an old, 
 slight gentleman, with white hair, whiskers and neckcloth, 
 and wearing spectacles. Thus, in one day I saw the richest 
 man in America, the first roue, the first pugilist, and the first 
 rowdy. All are equally looked after, all are equally cele- 
 brated. We spent a very pleasant day. No expense was 
 spared, and the journey was delightful, in every sense of the 
 word. 
 
 The Archbishop was administering confirmation to-day in 
 St. James's church, and I was invited to dinner. It was a 
 very stylish entertainment, and was supplied by Delmonicos. 
 The Archbishop, though apparently grave, yet has a good 
 fund of humour in his composition, and tells very good 
 anecdotes ; but if I were a bishop, I too would be very 
 anecdotal. It only requires to have a good supply of stories, 
 and to get an audience. I have the stories, and if ever I 
 become a bishop, people will listen through respect. One 
 point only do I wish to note here. The Archbishop said 
 that the failing population of native Americans, though often 
 ascribed to crime, must be also attributed, in a great mea- 
 sure, to the effeminacy and delicacy produced in both sexes, 
 and particularly women, by the heating of houses in winter. 
 I have not the slightest doubt of it. He told how being on 
 one occasion on a visit, in Paris, at the house of a vicomte, 
 it being mid-winter, he sat at the fire, and could scarcely 
 warm himself. He observed the two daughters of the 
 vicomte at a distance near the window, and he invited them 
 to share the warmth of the fire ; but their noble father 
 forbade them, saying, " There are only two fires allowed in 
 this house at any time one in the kitchen and one in this 
 parlour ; the latter has been prepared solely for your lord-
 
 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 24//i. 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 I' homme propose et Dieu dispose." Down 
 faster and faster came the rain the lightning flashed, and 
 the thunder rolled, and the huge drops fell heavier and 
 heavier. At last it descended with such fury that no human 
 enthusiasm could withstand it. Ten minutes produced the 
 most wonderful change in the scene. Where thousands of 
 lights gleamed, now all was darkness, and the Chinese 
 lanterns lay in saturated fragments on the ground. Where 
 ten thousand people, men and women, stood in breathless 
 expectation of festive song, now not a trace of humanity 
 was visible. Only a huge cannon pealed forth its thunder, 
 and lit up the darkness with its sudden flashes. Men,
 
 298 DIAR YOFA TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 women, light and song all melted away, like the feverish 
 phantoms of a dream, like the "baseless fabric of a vision." 
 Sunday, June z^th. Lovely day. A new church is to be 
 consecrated to-day by the Archbishop, at Mott Haven, on 
 the Harlem River. The curate of Mott Haven at present 
 
 is the Rev. B. , whose father taught him and me Latin 
 
 grammar together much more than "twenty golden years 
 ago." Twenty-two years have elapsed since I met him. I 
 resolved to fulfil the romantic desire of seeing him to-day. 
 By arrangement I call on Mr. Healy at his lodgings, Fifth 
 Avenue, and proceed with him to Mott Haven. This place 
 is reached many ways, but we go by the Third Avenue cars, 
 and reach Harlem on one side of the river. We cross the 
 Harlem bridge on foot, and find ourselves at Mott Haven. 
 We reach the house of the pastor, Father Hughes, and I 
 
 soon catch sight of B . I recognise him at once, and 
 
 ask, " Did you ever see me before ? " He replies rather 
 gruffly that he does not know. I tell him who I am, and 
 the announcement does not seem to move him much. In 
 a word, it seemed to make no difference to him whether I 
 was an utter stranger or an old school-fellow ; but I reposed 
 in the consciousness of having gratified a worthy feeling of 
 my own. 
 
 The Americans are a great paper-reading people. " What 
 paper in New York has the largest circulation ? " asked 
 somebody. " Of course The Sun it goes round the earth 
 every twenty-four hours the largest circulation in the 
 world." Newspaper gentlemen have a great many cant 
 phrases. " Piling up the agonies " means heaping Pelion 
 on Ossa, of horrible description. 
 
 June 2"]th. Lovely morning, charming country. We
 
 NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 299 
 
 drive, i.e., Father Crowley, Charley, " Gus " and I, in two 
 carriages, to a place called Westhills, the highest point in 
 Long Island, and most probably the first American land I 
 ever saw. It commands a splendid view, . reaching from 
 the Connecticut shore all round the Atlantic, as far as the 
 " palisades " of the Hudson. The scenery at our feet of the 
 surrounding country is very beautiful. Indeed Huntington 
 has been styled the " Garden of Long Island." Splendid 
 cedars grow quite commonly here, even along the road-ways, 
 also locusts, a tree somewhat resembling acacia, wild cherry 
 trees, pines, oaks, &c. There is said to be a tulip tree here 
 seven feet in diameter. I have not seen it, and shall be 
 dubious till I do. Indian corn is cultivated all round, and 
 the ripe fields of maize resemble our full grown wheat crop. 
 The roads might be better dusty in summer, slushy in 
 winter. The land is mostly undulating, and there is a great 
 deal of wood. The country villas are all beautiful. No two 
 styles are alike, and there is a freshness and gaiety about 
 them, and such an array of flowers, as indicates extreme 
 neatness and taste. They look charming on the slopes of 
 the landscape, lawn before and protecting fields behind. 
 There is no poverty here, no begging. The farmers all own 
 their land in fee. There is a solitary policeman in the town. 
 The nigger population is large. There is an air of comfort 
 everywhere. 
 
 June 30/7*. 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
 
 3 oo 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 301 
 
 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 everyone is anxious 
 that the spell should be broken, but nobody knows how to 
 break it. 
 
 After dinner we four sat and had cigars on a piazza. It 
 was agreed that America was before England, nay Europe, 
 in many things, particularly hotels the fires department 
 peculiar made-up drinks enterprise of all kinds employing 
 men on their merits and not on the recommendation of 
 friends " interest" as it is called insurances (every American 
 insures his property, one third part of Englishmen don't).
 
 302 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 I leave by steamer at 3.50 for Haverstraw on the 
 Hudson. Lovely evening magnificent scenery wide river, 
 at one side perpendicular cliffs, called the palisades ; at the 
 other sloping wooded lawns with gorgeous residences vary- 
 ing ever in style all elegant, many palatial. Mount St. 
 Vincent is a splendid red-brick Convent of Mercy, immense 
 in length, elegant in style, charming situation over the river. 
 In front of it is a stone castle belonging to the nuns, built by 
 Edwin Forrest the great actor, for his residence, but given by 
 him to the nuns. We passed Yonkers, a lovely town on the 
 river; splendid country seats all round Tarrytown the 
 same Irvington, close to which is the house of Washington 
 Irving Sing-Sing, the place of the great State Prison of New 
 Y"ork. Then came Haverstraw a great brick-making place, 
 at the foot of very steep wooded cliffs. Lovely country all
 
 NEV/ 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 zyd. George, Gus, and I go on board a sloop laden 
 with bricks, and cross Long Island Sound, thirty-five miles, 
 to Bridgeport. The voyage with a good breeze would only 
 take three hours, but there is no wind, and so we take very 
 much longer. Bridgeport is a nice town. The surburbs are 
 very beautiful. It is the birthplace of Tom Thumb, whose 
 family, excepting himself, were all of more than the average 
 size. The celebrated Barnum lives here, when he is at home, 
 which is seldom. One of the finest houses in the suburbs 
 here is that of Wilson or Wheeler, I cannot say which, one 
 of the great sewing-machine firm. The great charm of the 
 villas here is the wonderful variety of their styles, as well as 
 their extraordinary beauty of design. They are mostly frame 
 houses, and their beauty is much enhanced by abundant 
 foliage and well-kept gardens. 
 
 At ten o'clock we leave by the Nangatuck railroad for 
 Waterbury, of which my old friend and class-mate, Tom 
 Hendricken, now " Doctor," is pastor. The distance from 
 Bridgeport is eighty-six miles scenery pretty, hills and 
 rivers ; several villages and small towns on the way. 
 Dr. Hendricken is not at home. Hard, as I have not seen 
 him for eighteen years. He is on retreat at Worcester; 
 but his servant treats us with a hospitality that augurs well 
 for his own. Waterbury is a manufacturing town, with 
 14,000 inhabitants.
 
 30 4 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 ennuyis, and 
 so we retire early. 
 
 July z^th. 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 
 HtSitington, but there was no sign of it. 
 
 July zWi. Up early; we strained our eyes looking for 
 the sloop, but there was no sloop. We were therefore 
 obliged to come to New York (fifty-three miles) by train. 
 This evening coming down in the boat I had a good speci- 
 men of the democracy of this country. A young nigger 
 boy, about fourteen years old, employed by the ship, was 
 going around, crying out " ice cream," at ten cents a plate. 
 He asked me would I have some, but I said " no ; but 
 there is a man below with peaches. Would you, like a 
 good boy, fetch me up a quart of them ? " He looked, 
 smiled, and coolly replied : 
 
 " You are poor enough to be your own servant." 
 
 Politeness is a rare thing to find in America. On 
 
 X
 
 306 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 29/7* and following days were spent in one dull 
 monotony, so that it is quite impossible for me to adhere any 
 longer, at least for the present, to the resolution I formed at 
 the beginning of the year, and to which I have thus far 
 steadily adhered, of noting down specially the events of 
 every day. Where there are no events there is nothing to 
 record. The weather is intensely hot. I can only read, 
 write, drive, lounge, bathe, and keep off musquitoes and flies 
 which are a horrible bore. I have got a letter from my 
 bishop, in which he hints that he wishes me to desist from 
 going to " Frisco " until he hears from his brother to whom 
 he has written on the subject. I have been shocked on 
 reading in the Examiner of the death of my friend, Mr.
 
 NEW YORK IN SUMMER. 307 
 
 Eugene Shine, who gave me an entertainment last year at 
 the St. Nicholas Hotel. R.I.P. 
 
 August \$th. A great clam-bake takes place to-day on 
 the shore about a mile from Huntington. And what is a 
 clam-bake ? Well, there is a small fish, called a clam, of 
 which I have already spoken, and it seems to be considered 
 by Americans a great delicacy. On certain occasions, duly 
 advertised, the public assemble at a certain spot, generally 
 picturesque, where thousands of clams are previously pro- 
 vided by persons who make the matter a pecuniary 
 speculation. Those thousands of clams are gathered into 
 one immense heap, under which wood has been piled, and. 
 they are covered over with rods, twigs, -and branches of 
 trees. The wood is set fire to, and the clams are roasted. 
 The public, which at a clam-bake as at other gatherings, 
 is miscellaneous, embracing every sex, age, and condition, 
 assemble and spend the day. The whole thing assumes a 
 holiday aspect. Families bring their basket with cold pro- 
 visions, not daring to trust to the monotonous and precarious 
 clam. Long tables are arranged on the grounds from which 
 the speculators aforesaid vend various descriptions of pota- 
 tion, generally mild; proceeding in strength from the 
 vapidity of ginger-pop to the very resistible force of Lager 
 bier. The performance is varied by several concerted and 
 casual operations, the latter left to the humour of the crowd 
 and jolly or otherwise, according to circumstances. The 
 Huntington Clam-bake was looked forward to as one of the 
 great annual events of the place, an event so important that the 
 local papers the Suffolk (Co.} Bulletin, and the Huntington 
 Independent [.?] made allusion to its forthcoming some 
 weeks before the event, and intensified allusion in the direct
 
 308 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A MERICA. 
 
 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 i5th. Thus: 
 " Prepare, prepare the day is at hand. At Bouton's Point, 
 on the isth comes off the great Clam-bake." Again, "The 
 event of the period the great Clam-bake of the isth. 
 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 isth, and which is to be celebrated at 
 Bouton's Point." Where every visitor is expected to 
 " offishiate" on that auspicious occasion, etc. ; or " Beauties 
 of Huntington ! They will be all at the Clam-bake on 
 Tuesday." "Terpsichore! who will refuse io witness thy 
 performances on Tuesday next at the great Huntington 
 Clam-bake ! " and thus ad the infinitum 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 LEATHERSTOCKING'S LAND. 
 
 August i;///. I received a letter yesterday from Sarah 
 McAuliffe, dated Catskill, saying that she and party, i.e., 
 Mrs. Attridge and John, were about to leave for Coopers- 
 town, the residence of Father Devitt, their particular friend 
 with whom they would spend some days, and expressing a 
 hope that I would be able to join them there. Accordingly 
 this morning I rise early and proceed by stage to the pier 
 (they call a pier a " dock " in America), distant about three 
 miles. Here I take the steamboat, the " O. R. Martin," 
 and accomplish 35 miles more of the journey, reaching New 
 York at 9.30 a.m. Thence I proceed to Albany by express 
 rail, leaving at 10.30 and reaching at 2.45, distance 142 
 miles. The route lay along the Hudson river, whose beauties 
 I am never tired of admiring. From Albany I proceed by 
 "cars" to Cooperstown, distant 91 miles, through the 
 Susquehannah Valley, a region of great loveliness, embracing 
 every feature of scenic beauty undulating grounds, vast 
 tracts of foliage, smiling well cultivated fields, now " rich 
 with golden grain." The spiral river now so tiny that it 
 only " bickers down the valley," now spreading into copious 
 volume, while at intervals of every seven or eight miles, 
 some charming village, such as Richardville, decorates the 
 scene, reposing in the valley beneath, and from its white 
 walled houses throwing back the reflected brightness of the 
 August sun. This railroad extends from Albany to Bing-
 
 3 io DIARYOFA TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 hampton, but at a certain junction I deflect from Coopers- 
 town, distant 16 miles. I reach the town just about twelve 
 hours after I had left Huntington, having traversed in that 
 space of time by land and water a distance of 271 miles, 
 and accomplished it perfectly at my ease, either inhaling 
 the fresh morning breeze from the deck of a steamboat, or 
 lounging on the luxurious cushions of a Pullman's Palace 
 Car. On arriving, the porter of the " Cooper House," the 
 great hotel of Cooperstown, accosts me, and finding what I 
 wanted he, with that genuine courtesy so peculiar to an 
 Irishman when dealing with a priest, undertakes to conduct 
 me to Father Devitt's house, but requests that meanwhile I 
 would stay for a few moments at the hotel while he was 
 superintending the stowing away of some luggage just 
 arrived. I assent. The hotel is close by, and I sit on a 
 sofa in the large hall. Here is unusual bustle, as if some 
 great festive event were coming off. The sofa of which I 
 speak stood in the midst of a long broad corridor running 
 the whole length of the hotel, and confronting a large 
 square hall which forms the entrance. The floor of the 
 corridor is carpeted and the walls all around are adorned with 
 pictures. Into the corridor several doors open, through which 
 are constantly emerging groups of ladies and gentlemen, all 
 attired in ball costume, while the sounds of soft music are 
 heard not far off. The gay groups parade up and down the 
 corridor, chatting, laughing, and displaying their bright 
 plumage in the glaring light of many lamps and chandeliers, 
 while some fascinating damsels decoy their beaux to a table 
 in the hall where are spread for sale a vast variety of 
 bouquets (always pronounced " 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 our earliest boyhood. More we shall see 
 as we go on ; but here is the porter now done his work, who 
 comes to conduct me to Father Devitt's house. We walk 
 while he takes my valise on his shoulder. It is nearly quite
 
 3 1 2 DIAR Y OF A 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 iWi. 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 LEA THERSTOCKINGS LAND. 313 
 
 so very youthful a pilot, although he has acquired much 
 experience of boating off the Coast of Staten Island as 
 Father Devitt informs me. Nevertheless we set sail, and are 
 prepared for the consequence, or rather do not calculate too 
 nervously on them. A lovely lake is this Otsego, nine miles 
 long, by an average of three miles broad, the water so 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 
 cf the mountains. As she steams past us we perceive that
 
 3 r 4 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 her name inscribed on the paddle-box is " Natty Bumppo," 
 and that she is called after one of Cooper's celebrated heroes 
 of romance. Everything breathes of Cooper in this romantic 
 region. Amongst the monuments in the cemetery we distin- 
 guish the marble pillar raised to his memory by public 
 subscription, and further on is the precipitous frontage of 
 rock beneath which is " Leatherstocking's Cave," and to 
 which tourists ascend by a wooden staircase constructed for 
 the purpose. 
 
 But the wind grows stronger and stronger as we reach 
 the centre of the lake, and the waves rise, and the boat 
 scuds on like a bird, and her rudder indicates, by its rushing 
 noise in the water, that we are careering at a tremendous 
 rate. We deem it imprudent to go farther, lest the gale 
 may increase or the direction of the wind change, and for 
 my part, I do not feel comfortable in the hands of the 
 young pilot, "Joe," who seems somewhat disconcerted at. 
 the responsibility which the increasing storm has placed on 
 his shoulders. By general consent we turn, but the sail 
 flapping in the wind, and the frequent lurching of the boat 
 in the trough of the waves, fill us all with alarm. It is 
 pretty clear that Joe is not equal to the occasion. The 
 ladies screamed, and I confess I felt miserable. Some 
 minutes of this terrible apprehension passed, and we heeded 
 not the spray rushing over the gunwale, deluging the boat 
 and drenching us thoroughly. At length we get all right, 
 and steer for the nearest point of land, which fortunately we 
 reach in safety. We bathe, and dine, and lounge about on 
 the grass, and in the sunshine, in sheltered spots where no 
 breeze blows, and beguile the time in a thousand ways, but 
 chiefly in talking of the long, long past, on the home of our
 
 A TRIP IN LEATHERSTOCKINGS LAND. 315 
 
 birth, and most of all for that is what now strikes us most 
 on the lovely scenery of Lake Otsego. Some few hours 
 after we prepare to return. The wind has gone down, and we 
 can scarcely advance a yard. We tack, but make no head- 
 way. We then take the oars, and get on slowly, for the 
 boat is large, and the oars are small. Thus the evening 
 creeps on, and we are within two miles of the shore. Sud- 
 denly a fresh gale springs up behind us, the sail is set, and 
 in five minutes we reach the pier. 
 
 August i^th. The weather is very beautiful, and we are 
 tempted to go again upon the lake. The temperature here 
 is very mild, Cooperstown is situated at a height of 1,200 
 feet above the level of the sea, which makes it constantly 
 cool, while the refreshing breeze from the lake adds its 
 quota of mildness to the air. It is needless to say that the 
 town is called after the Cooper family not, however, after 
 the novelist, but his father, Judge Cooper, who came and 
 settled here in the year 1785. Since that time eighty-six 
 years have elapsed, and yet the town cannot boast of more 
 than 2,000 inhabitants ; and yet there are several hotels, 
 but they are unoccupied except in summer, when thousands 
 of fashionable visitors throng to enjoy the luxuries which 
 Nature has here scattered around with so profuse a hand. 
 Judge Cooper was an important personage in his day. He 
 came here from Burlington, in New Jersey, in the capacity 
 of Chief Magistrate, and owner of property around the lake. 
 On his arrival here, in the double capacity of judge and 
 landlord, in the year mentioned, the inhabitants of the little 
 village, thirty-five in number, came forth to welcome " the 
 lord of the manor," and paid him that quasi feudal homage 
 which has since grown not obsolete, but odious even to the
 
 3 1 6 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 memory of America's fierce Democracy. Here Judge 
 Cooper was visited by George Washington in 1789, and in 
 *795 by another distinguished hero of that age no other 
 than the famous Prince Talleyrand. By what strange 
 impulse of the mind does one indulge in a dreamy pleasure 
 standing on the spot and gazing on the scenes where the 
 great men of the past stood and gazed as we do ? I know 
 not ; but this pleasure I felt as I stood on the borders of 
 Otsego Lake, and fancied that, perhaps, en this very foot of 
 ground George Washington developed to Judge Cooper his 
 military schemes, or Talleyrand cracked some witticisms for 
 his Worship's amusement. 
 
 We go on the lake and row to the spot from which tourists 
 ascend to Lakewood Cemetery, to which I have already 
 alluded. Here we debark and ascend. The cemetery 
 slopes up to the very summit of the hill, and is formed by a 
 succession of terraces, between which the tombs and graves 
 are placed. A perfect forest of trees encloses and enshrouds 
 it. The first monument that meets our eye is that of which 
 I have made mention, the marble monument of Cooper- 
 On the base are carved the words " Fennimore Cooper." 
 The pillar is ornamented with carvings indicating the im- 
 plements of savage warfare, and the top is surmounted by 
 a statue of Chingachgook armed cap-a-pie with feathers and 
 scalps, with tomahawk and mocassins. This is not the 
 grave of Cooper; we shall visit that in due time. Having 
 " done " the cemetery, which is one of the prettiest I ever 
 saw, we take the boat once more, and chat over the strange 
 saying of an enthusiastic tourist who was here lately, and 
 who was such an admirer of Cooper and his tales that he 
 said his greatest ambition would be to be drowned in that
 
 A TRIP IN LEA THER STOCKING'S LAND. 3 1 7 
 
 lake and buried in that cemetery. We row for the Susque- 
 hannah River, which rises in the lake, and pursues a course 
 of 400 miles before it reaches the ocean. It is narrow at 
 the source, but we admire it very much. We take to fishing 
 for perch, and have no success for some time, until at length 
 one of the ladies, with a scream of surprise at her own 
 success, hauls up a finny creature about the .size of a 
 sardine. Her triumph stops there, however ; and indeed I 
 believe she had more to boast of than any of us. Thus we 
 passed the evening, and returned brimful of the delight 
 which is the inevitable creation of innocent enjoyment. 
 
 August zoth. 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 Missx 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 2isf. All up at five this morning, because we
 
 3 1 8 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 have to make a long journey to the celebrated Sharon 
 Springs, via Cherry Valley. The latter place is fourteen 
 miles from Cooperstown. We start at six o'clock. The 
 morning is damp and misty, and the scenery is not very 
 distinctly visible. Our vehicle is a barouche, and our 
 charioteer a " coloured gemman." Our road lies over the 
 mountain, on the right hand of the lake, by the cemetery. 
 Through the foliage we catch glimpses of the water below. 
 The view all along the road is very charming, but its effect 
 was sadly marred by the persistent mist which hung all day 
 over the landscape. This was particularly unfortunate at 
 Cherry Valley, which, even veiled as it was, and displaying 
 only a few glimpses of its beauty, was still delightful to 
 behold. Our imaginations supplied the charms which our 
 eyes were forbidden to reach. This region, which might 
 well pass for the Happy Valley, was once the scene of an 
 Indian raid made on the white inhabitants, who were mas- 
 sacred without mercy, sometime in the last century. Strange 
 impulse of corrupt nature, which teaches it to defile with 
 human blood and guilt the loveliest scenes in God's 
 creation. Witness the ruthless massacre of Glencoe, per- 
 petrated by so-called civilized men ! 
 
 From Cherry Valley we go by train to Sharon, distant 
 seven miles. On this railroad are some wooden structures 
 running through ravines over which the train passes, and 
 which are constructed with a reckless disregard of human 
 life. Some day, ere long, a terrible accident will occur 
 here, and then some more solid structure will be substituted 
 for the present one. We reach Sharon and are at first 
 somewhat disappointed, for there is nothing to be seen but 
 some detached houses and a few shabby hotels. But we
 
 A TRIP IN LEATHERSTOCKINGS 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. r 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 degagec morning 
 costume, or the more elegant afternoon attire, but all with 
 the most fantastic coiffure which a diseased imagination 
 could invent, or which Beauty could possibly desire for the 
 purposes of suicide. 
 
 We stopped at the first hotel we met the " Mansion 
 House." No one was visible. We walked into a room 
 it was untenanted, and there was a most unpleasant sen- 
 sation of warmth about it, as if it were artificially heated, 
 although the month was August. We left precipitately and 
 went further. We fixed on the United States Hotel, left 
 our things there, and ordered dinner for one o'clock. 
 Meanwhile we go and have a sulphur bath, previous to 
 which we drink sulphur-water, which has, to my mind, the 
 taste of a hard-boiled, cold, rotten egg. All these watering 
 places are about the same the same in America as in 
 Europe. Sharon is a Wiesbaden, and Saratago a Homburg. 
 Sharon, however, is nearly " played out." Its waters are 
 losing their strength, or are surpassed in strength by others. 
 Hence, the hotel-keepers lay it on pretty heavily, being 
 reckless with despair. 
 
 We dine the little morsels of chicken or beef-steak to 
 which we were helped would remind one of the limited 
 rations on board a famishing ship, or in a besieged city.
 
 320 DIARY 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, which 
 she helps around, and then proceeds to fill them with ale 
 from what we call a tankard. Good gracious ! what 
 notion of ale have they at Sharon Springs ? Do they regard 
 it as some precious wine which must be doled out sparingly 
 and drunk iri sips, like Tokay or Marcobruner? like 
 Assmanshauser or Li ebfrau milch ? We scoff at the idea 
 and scout the wine-glasses from the table. The astonished 
 waitress at last gathers what we want. She removes the 
 wine-glasses and fetches bumpers. But what is the matter 
 now ? Is it ale, or muddy wine ? Where is the foam, and 
 where is the sparkle that speaks poetry to the heart, in a 
 glass of Allsopp or Bass ? Alas ! we stood with our lips on 
 the brink of liquid bliss, and as with the wretched Tantalus, 
 the bright stream passed away for ever. But what is it ? 
 we taste and put it away again in this region of sulphur, 
 we wish it to the region of brimstone. It is only a coloured 
 fluid, utterly tasteless and almost solid with infused dust. 
 It is said that everyone must eat a peck of dust before he 
 dies. Let him drink the ale of the United States Hotel 
 of Sharon, and the task will be accomplished in a few 
 weeks. 
 
 August 22nd. A telegram comes to Father Devitt from 
 a place called Exter, some nine or ten miles away, saying 
 that he is wanted to see a sick young woman there. We 
 combine 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 THERSTOCK1NGS LAND. 3 2 r 
 
 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 ; very 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 M ERIC A. 
 
 scale, and with their white walls, and green blinds, and 
 the gay costume of the ladies lounging on the piazzas, look 
 very pretty and gay. I always speak of the dresses of the 
 ladies, not of themselves ; for those whom I have seen in 
 those fashionable watering places are for the most part ugly 
 as sin shrivelled, parched, skinny and gaunt ; and whatever 
 other adjective you please that implies dryness and coldness. 
 When one sees creatures like these trying to look youthful, 
 pretty, and coquettish ; with costly silks and cosmetics, and 
 artificial hair, teeth, and for aught I know, artificial eyes and 
 limbs, it is a shocking spectacle, and makes one almost sigh 
 that the Darwinian theory is not true, as then those female 
 apes would at least have remained natural. I beg pardon of 
 all good-looking, simple, unaffected ladies for my severe 
 strictures on any members of a sex to whose refining and 
 civilizing influence we men owe so much. 
 
 We take a sulphur bath, first drinking the sulphur water, 
 which is superior to that of Sharon ; by which I mean it 
 tastes more strongly of rotten egg. I pay one dollar to a 
 man for two baths when I come out the man hands me 
 back the dollar : " Sir," said he, very respectfully, "when you 
 came I did not know who or what you were. I have since 
 learned all about you. Please take your money back. I 
 am proud to have a priest from the old country taking a 
 bath here, and you are welcome to one every day on the 
 same terms." He was an Irishman from Sligo. I find the 
 Irish the same all over America attached to home, to 
 religion, and its ministers ; affectionate, warm-hearted, not 
 covetous for the dollar like their indigenous neighbours, but 
 generous and unselfish where a noble motive can inspire 
 them. There is a pretty Catholic church here, but very
 
 A TRIP IiV LEA THERSTO CKINGS LAND. 323 
 
 small. Father Devitt says Mass here every second Sunday ; 
 but the congregation mostly consists of visitors to Richfield, 
 visitors from New York and other great cities. Richfield 
 Sulphur Springs were discovered some thirty years ago, but 
 came into repute only within the last few years. It is 
 " bound " to be a big place. 
 
 We return, and Father Devitt intends taking in the sick 
 call in his way. Our road lies by a beautiful lake " Schuyler," 
 a few miles from Richfield, six miles long by about three 
 broad, almost as beautiful as Otsego, but that the surround- 
 ing hills are not so high. There is a pretty wooded island 
 in one portion of it, and crowds of small boats convey 
 pleasure-seekers over its surface. We reach a small village 
 called '"Foot o' the Lake," and diverge into a narrow 
 road by which we are to go to the cick 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 1 8, 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 DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN A M ERIC A . 
 
 the marriage couple are probably waiting in the church at 
 Cooperstown. We have twelve miles to travel, and cannot 
 reach before nine. I cannot describe the journey back, as 
 it was dark. I can only say the road was very hilly, and we 
 were more or less nervous, not knowing it well. When we 
 got home we 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 26th. Morning wet; proper time and state of 
 the atmosphere to visit Cooper's grave. He is interred 
 within the precincts of the Episcopal Church, which was the 
 one he frequented. By the way, for 2,000 inhabitants there 
 are six churches in Cooperstown, all of different religious 
 character, all leading votaries to heaven their own way. I 
 hope we will all meet at the same place, though reaching it by 
 different roads, always provided the place be agreeable for 
 all eternity. The Episcopal Church is within the village, or 
 shall we say town? I dare say we had better say town, 
 especially as it publishes two newspapers the Otscgo 
 Republican and the Fi'tcmarfs 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 I 
 there are cities of ten houses in America with their news- 
 papers, cities not one fiftieth your age, while for the centuries, 
 that have passed over your old effete heads you have done
 
 A TRIP IN LEA THERSTOCKINGS LAND. 3 2 5 
 
 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, 1851." No more. I did not note the inscription 
 on his wife's tomb, but I did note that she survived him 
 two years, and that her name was De Lancey. Cooper was 
 brought by his father when only three years old to Coopers- 
 town from Burlington, in New Jersey, where he was born; 
 and even in his boyhood traces of Indian life were still 
 visible about the banks of Lake Otsego. Although the 
 Indians as a tribe had left the head waters of the Susque- 
 hanna before the settlement of Cooperstown, yet numbers 
 of them still lingered about the old camping grounds, and 
 stragglers from the Dela wares and the Mohawks were occa- 
 sionally seen hovering about the shores of Lake Otsego, 
 with traces of war-paint upon them. True, they had buried 
 the hatchet with the close of the war for independence, yet 
 the story of their bloody deeds, and their wild and untamed 
 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 their native woods and the occasional smoke of
 
 326 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 the wig\vara, 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 2jt/t. 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, t\vo from Waterford. They are all farmers, and 
 live about seven miles from Cooperstown. The great rain 
 and wind did not hinder them from coming to Mass on 
 Sunday. They have purchased their farms " out and out," 
 and have got plenty of time to pay up the purchase-money. 
 They do not fear a landlord's frown, or an agent's threat ; 
 they are independent. We had a long chat about the '* old 
 country," and I told much that interested them highly. 
 Another sermon at benediction in the evening. Yankees, 
 as usual, present in good numbers. 
 
 Angusf 28///. Last day's boating on the lake. I do not 
 know what is the charm about Cooperstown. It seems as if 
 it were a retreat a place isolated, shut in from the whole 
 world, where one could be happy for ever. What a place 
 for a monastery would be the bank of this lovely, lonely 
 lake, and how the glorious works of Nature around would 
 raise the heart to Nature's God. 
 
 We take tea at Miss Tanner's very pretty house, 
 " Butternut Cottage," so called from a large tree in the 
 lawn called a butternut. Her father and mother are nice 
 people. Miss Tanner had told me that after tea she would 
 take me " up a tree." But she was literal, and proceeded 
 to fulfil her promise. The large butternut tree to which I 
 have alluded stood in the lawn. It was very old and wide- 
 spreading. The trunk extended up about twelve feet from, 
 the ground, and then thick branches shot out from it.. 
 Within the branches a flooring was made with seats all 
 around, the backs of which extended from branch to branch. 
 In the centre was a table, and the elevation was reached by 
 a rude staircase. Here we sat, and chatted and joked over
 
 328 DIAR Y OF A 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 to 
 enjoy it long. At 8 o'clock I delivered my lecture on 
 " The Bible " in the church. A small gathering of people 
 was there, conspicuous amongst whom was the Presbyterian 
 clergyman who took copious notes as I went along. 
 
 I should have mentioned when speaking of the Leather- 
 stocking Falls that I had no loss in not seeing them. They 
 were a mere tiny driblet, as the weather was so dry. At 
 their best they are not much ; but they enjoy a fictitious 
 importance from the romance cast around them by the 
 vivid imagination, and highly-coloured descriptions of 
 Fenimore Cooper. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 August zqth. 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 $Qth. Fearfully bitten by mosquitos last night. 
 See Father Crowley oft for Ireland by the " Minnesota " 
 v 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 " Rome, 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 2yth last, will explain all : 
 
 " In the city of New York there are upwards of eight 
 thousand men Avho 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 
 teen carried off by lawyers ; and so far above divinity and 
 physic has the law been regarded in public estimation that 
 many a parent of moderate means who might have made 
 his son a clergyman or a physician without leaning very 
 heavily on his purse, has been known to exhaust his 
 resources and reduce himself to the very verge of ruin in 
 a too often unsuccessful endeavour to make his boy a 
 counsellor. In this country, too, the most coveted positions 
 in the arena of public life have been, and still are, in the 
 majority of cases, filled by members of the legal profession ; 
 but the time has long since gone by when the law was 
 regarded by the general public as the most desirable of all 
 the professions. The cause of this is very plain. Every 
 calling or avocation is respectable and desirable only in 
 proportion to its comparative exclusiveness, that is, to the 
 difficulty, time, labour, expense, and unborn talent involved 
 in the pursuit and acquisition of it. A long course of study, 
 involving considerable expense, a liberal general education, 
 and a fair share of natural ability were all necessary here-
 
 -, 3 o DIAR Y OF A TO UR IN AMERICA. 
 
 )fore to the completion of a ' Limb of the La\v.' But 
 <ow has it been of late years ? There is scarcely one 
 itelligent reader who does not know an ignorant and stupid 
 )ol with his name over the door of a lawyer's office, whose 
 /hole qualifications for his successful admission to the Bar 
 lave been acquired by three weeks' reading of Blackstone, 
 s many years' drinking of bad whiskey, and a little in- 
 'luence with the judge. A diploma of this kind is so easily 
 >btained that hundreds 'of jocose youths of various occu- 
 >ations, who never dreamed of entering on the practice of 
 iw 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 
 he unhealthy and alarming dislike entertained by American 
 .radesmen and mechanics towards bringing up their children 
 to the trade by which they themselves have been enabled 
 to pass through life on an independent competence. We 
 are undoubtedly becoming wofully snobbish in this country 
 already, and nobody is so badly bitten with this same snob- 
 bishness as the average mechanic. He is ashamed of being 
 only a ' working man.' He is dazzled by the shiny coat 
 which the briefless barrister and the poorly paid clerk have 
 to pinch from their stomachs to put on their backs, and he 
 determines that his boy, instead of being 4 a poor drudge,' 
 as he calls it, must be qualified for a gentleman. So the 
 foolish man wastes his surplus earnings on young hopeful, 
 who is put through a cursory ' course of study,' is called to 
 the Bar, and in due time finds himself a full-fledged counsel- 
 lor, attorney, and barrister-at-law, with nothing to do and 
 nothing to eat. It has been already stated that there are 
 now over 8,000 practising lawyers in this metropolis, that is 
 out of every hundred of our population one man is a lawyer. 
 Leaving out the women and children this gives us one 
 lawyer to every twenty gro;vn men, so that admitting that 
 every man in New York goes to law with another man at 
 least once a year, each lawyer can have only twenty cases 
 per annum at an average to live upon. Now, inasmuch as 
 some of our eminent lawyers monopolise some hundreds of 
 these cases, it is plain that many of the lesser lights of the
 
 CONCLUSION. 331 
 
 Bar are left without any case at all. Still they must live 
 somehow, and the question how so many lawyers do live in 
 New York has oftener been asked than answered. . . . 
 The unsavoury history, haunts and practises of the ' Tombs 
 Shyster,' that nondescript animal and social pest, are well 
 known to every reader of the Herald. The public are not 
 wholly unaware of the existence of a class of disreputable 
 men who prowl along the docks in search of sailors with 
 grievances, and who persuade poor mercantile Jack into 
 empowering them to institute suits in his behalf against the 
 owners and masters of vessels on board of which he has been 
 ill-used, and afterwards compromise Jack's case for some 
 sum of which the plaintiff never sees a cent, though he has 
 already 'comedown' to his philanthropic counsel with a 
 retainer equal to the whole amount of the wages he has just 
 received. There are inumerable other ways by which needy 
 and conscienceless lawyers manage to ' make out the case.' " 
 
 N.B. A " Shyster " is a lawyer such as described, who 
 hangs about the Tombs' Court trying to net miserable dupes 
 who may employ them. Some time ago there was a 
 legal firm on Broadway, " Ketchem and Cheetham." The 
 double entendre was too much for the public the brother- 
 hood were fairly laughed into a severance of their partner 
 ship. 
 
 Poets are rare in America. I believe Longfellow, Bryant 
 and Whittier are the best ; Saxe is the Tom Hood of Ameri- 
 can Literature. There is one named Walt Whitman, and 
 how he has the audacity to claim the laurels of a poet, or 
 how any reader is stupid enough to grant the claim, is one 
 mystery out of the myriads by which we are surrounded in 
 this world. A writer named Bret Harte has lately appeared 
 on the literary stage as a poet. His book is small, and the 
 pieces, all fugitive, are very brief. Some of them are written 
 in American slang, some are indelicate, there may be four out
 
 332 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 of the entire lot fit to stand an examination. One has made 
 him a name somehow, it is called the " Heathen Chinee." 
 It is of the slang class, and illustrates the cheating propen- 
 sities of the Chinese immigrants to this country. But in. 
 truth there's nothing in it, yet Harte has, as it were, founded 
 a new school of American poetry, and has his disciples. 
 Another named Hay has appeared, and his collection is 
 remarkable for nothing but cant, profanity, and indecency. 
 And, en passant, it may be remarked that Americans, to my 
 mind, are the most profane, blasphemous people in the 
 world. The lightness with which the name of God and of 
 religion is spoken of in this 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- 
 chewing, 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 
 which our poet draws from those fearfully illogical deduc- 
 tions : 
 
 " And I think that saving a little child, 
 
 And bringing him to his own, 
 Is a darned sight better business 
 
 Than loafing around the throne." 
 
 I read the Sunday Herald of this day. They call them- 
 selves the " Hercules of Religion." They contend that they 
 are equal to all the pulpits of America. Having no par-
 
 CONCLUSION. 333 
 
 ticular religion themselves, they teach religion to all the 
 world, but their theological " platform " seems to be no 
 more than the abolition of the new-fangled notions of sacra- 
 ments, dogmas, " fire and brimstone," &c., and the establish- 
 ment of a common brotherhood by all pious persons. " They 
 have the gratification to know they have thus far succeeded 
 beyond their expectations in quickening the pulse of grace 
 in various communities, in infusing new and enlarged ideas 
 into pulpits, and in spurring the laggard professionally 
 religious Press all over the country to livelier work under the 
 banner of their chosen and halo-crowned Leader." But its 
 estimate of itself is in this very paper put forward in a more 
 extravagant, and therefore more ludicrous manner. " The 
 religion of the Herald, nowadays at all events, is like its- 
 treatment of all worldly and world-wide movements, measures 
 and matters as boundless as earth, and as illimitable as 
 God's goodness. Nothing is greater than the Heralds 
 comprehensive grasp, nor grander than its journalistic con- 
 ception. It continues to be the foremost paper in the world." 
 
 This is one of the things that vexes me most in America 
 the self-sufficiency of men proclaiming themselves and their 
 institutions to be the grandest in the whole world. 
 
 But we must not look for consistency in the New York- 
 Herald. All must admit it is a paper cleverly conducted, 
 that is to say, it relaxes no effort in procuring news from all 
 the world to satisfy the curiosity of its readers ; expense is 
 no consideration ; it seems to have correspondents in every 
 great country on the face of the earth. But it takes care to- 
 tell yoii 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 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 honoured, respected, feared by all ; he is one whose "open 
 sesame " unbars the gates of palaces and admits the Great 
 Irresistible into the saloons of ministers, the closets of 
 kings, and boudoirs of empresses, who impart to him the 
 inmost secrets of their souls as if he were a 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 
 air of lightness, of badinage, of scoffing calculated to weaken 
 an indifferent reader's respect for great dogmas. For 
 example, the doctrine of eternal punishment is laughed at 
 by the Herald, which alludes to that state as "perpetual
 
 CONCLUSION. 335 
 
 roasting," " eternal basting," " everlasting brimstone," etc., 
 etc. Other doctrines are treated with like levity. But it is 
 amusing to witness the airs of the Herald when speaking of 
 religion it seems to regard 'itself as having a special mission 
 from heaven to teach the truth, while it is well known that 
 most of its religious articles are written by men who have no 
 religion at all. Since this Boulsby business came to light, it 
 has sent its reporters into all kinds of dens. The Paul Prys 
 of the Press have been interviewing the inmates of those hells, 
 and the edifying conversations are duly published every 
 morning in the Herald, so that with all this guilt and shame, 
 and those murders and hangings, explosions and collisions, 
 one grows shocked and bewildered, and begins to regard 
 mankind and the world as a spectacle of unmitigated horror 
 and woe. While the Herald gives all these horrors to the 
 world, it introduces them as a clown might introduce a 
 fellow-clown in a circus. I have already alluded to its 
 vulgar proclivity to alliterative headings. Surely when 
 dealing with a horrible story of guilt and shame the editor 
 might spare his brains the worry of finding out alliterations, 
 and his readers the bizarre effect of reading them. But the 
 Herald is the Herald, and so we have " Rosenzweig's 
 Rascality," and the " Terrible Tale," " the Trunk Tragedy," 
 " the Boulsby Butchery," and, best of all, the " Hudson 
 River Railroad : Harrowing, Revolting Record." 
 
 One other fault in the New York Herald, and I have 
 done. It always presumes the guilt of a man accused of 
 crime it hangs him first and tries him after. Rosenz- 
 weig, though not yet brought to trial, is condemned by 
 the Great Oracle he is guilty, and justice will be frustrated 
 if he is not sacrificed. This is freedom of the Press with a
 
 336 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 vengeance. Give me the Press which respects the majesty 
 of the law, and which honourably subscribes to that glorious 
 principle which the law inculcates that every man is 
 presumed to be innocent until he is found guilty. 
 
 September izth. I' have never left this village* since the 
 3oth of August, save for a carriage ride. I have been very 
 ill all the time ; so much so that coupling the fact with the 
 consideration that I have been more or less unwell all 
 through the summer, I have resolved on sailing for Europe 
 on the nth of next month by the Cunard s.s. "Java." 
 It is needless to go into all my reasons for forming this 
 resolution it is formed, and there's an end of it. 
 
 Having thus, for the last fortnight, had plenty of time for 
 observation on my hands, it is a pity I had not a wider 
 range for my speculations than an obscure village, but 
 such as the village is, let me describe the life of an ordinary 
 resident therein that ordinary resident being ourselves. 
 Our house is a very pretty one "frame," of course, like 
 all its neighbours, standing on the outskirts of the village, 
 railed off from the road on two sides, for it is at 
 junction of two roads, and surrounded by flower-beds, 
 now in full bloom. The house is three storeys high 
 is painted white, with green blinds; has a "stoop" 
 a piazza and gallery projecting from the first floor. 
 The gallery and piazza are united by pillars around 
 which creepers grow in profusion. The roof is invisible, 
 and a balustrade running all round on the top gives the 
 whole a square appearance. It is, as I have said, a very 
 pretty house, and it is pleasant to sit in a rocking chair 011 
 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 well how to find. He is not 
 afraid of you ; he comes quite close, and sometimes, but 
 not always, you hear the little humming sound from which 
 he derives his name. 
 
 Nothing can surpass the neatness of Americans, especially 
 American ladies. In dress they are not more extravagant 
 or fashionable than the ladies at home, but they are always 
 neat, their children are particularly well dressed, and it is 
 refreshing to see a crowd of boys and girls going to or 
 coming from school, so elegantly dressed, and brought up 
 to notions of neatness from their very infancy. And here I 
 may remark that the Americans appear to be extremely 
 fond of their children. This is evinced not only in this 
 matter of dress, but in the care which parents take of their 
 young ones. Go where you please, in steamboat or train, 
 and you see the children with their parents, sometimes in 
 arms, but oftener more mature. Parents seem is if they 
 could not enjoy a day's pleasure except in the society of 
 their children. 
 
 And yet why do so many children turn out badly in this 
 country? For two reasons, as it appears to me. First, 
 because of this very care and love which they receive from
 
 CONCLUSION. 339 
 
 their parents an unwise love, which overlooks faults, and 
 gives the will too much license ; secondly, on account of 
 the system of education from which the religious element is 
 carefully excluded. It is manifest that where, for example, 
 geography is taught, and religion is not, the child knows far 
 more about the former science than he does of the latter. 
 
 The neatness of Americans is very remarkable in their 
 houses. You never see a dirty house anywhere. Be it ever 
 so poor it is cleanly and orderly in the country the farmer's 
 house is a model of neatness. The style is pretty, the walls 
 are freshly painted, the flower garden blooms in fruit, while 
 within the carpet and hangings and pictures look bright and 
 cheerful. Many of our Irish people who live here have 
 learned those habits of neatness and conformed to them. 
 What a pity they do not learn them at home ! Of how many 
 pleasures do they deprive themselves by not adopting the 
 simple means which Nature has placed in their hands for 
 being happy ! The very cultivation of flowers, the very 
 science of good cooking, would tend much to enlarge the 
 sphere of their enjoyment. Their habits are greatly im- 
 proved by their transfer to this country at home they seem 
 doomed to eternal stagnation. 
 
 October \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 DIARY OF A TOUR IN AMERICA. 
 
 hill and pass by the Episcopal Church, which is made of 
 wood, and painted white from the base to 'the apex of the 
 spire. Then out into the country, along a good road, with 
 good houses at each side ; houses, as usual here, made like 
 the church, of wood, with the closed blinds painted green, and 
 with the balcony above, and the piazza, below, and plenteous, 
 flowers around. No human being is visible. Our road lies 
 for about five miles through a dense wood ; it is so narrow 
 that the wheels brush constantly against the brushwood on 
 either side. The eye wanders through the tall and silent 
 trees, and the vision is limited within a few yards by the 
 density of the plantation the plantation of Nature, by the 
 way, for human foot may have pierced this solitude, but 
 human hand has never sown a seed in this ungenial soil. 
 And why plant trees, O man, when Nature spreads them 
 around in such lavish profusion ? As we pass through this 
 valley and rind 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 Crovvley, 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.
 
 APPEN DIX. 
 
 FUGITIVE PIECES 
 
 IN 
 
 VERSE AND PROSE.
 
 TOETRY. 345 
 
 Sown. 
 
 Air : " The Groves of Elarney." 
 
 ALL ye who hear me, I pray draw near me, 
 
 And kindly cheer me while 1 sing for you, 
 In strains melodious, sweet and sonorous, 
 
 A song harmonious and most strictly true. 
 My subject splendid and in it blended, 
 
 Are themes attended with most high renown 
 In sweet-sounding phrases and poetic mazes 
 
 I sing the praises of Dunmanway Town. 
 
 Mid mountains hoary and famed in story, 
 
 Great Carbery's glory Dunmanway lies, 
 "With the Bandon flowing, its charms bestowing, 
 
 Which in Mount Noen does take its rise. 
 And there a lake is, where the duck and drake is, 
 
 And the crane can take his sweet feast of frogs, 
 But when night comes round it, the spirits surround it, 
 
 Since there was drovvnded Sir Richard Cox. 
 
 Then quite adjacent, both clane and dacent, 
 
 With high railings facin' it, does the chapel stand, 
 With the cross high o'er it, and a lawn before it, 
 
 You'd almost adore it, 'tis so mighty grand. 
 In Cork or Cloyne ye never saw any 
 
 Man like Father Doheny, he can't be found, 
 'Tis by him we benefits, for out of that head of his, 
 
 He raised that edifice up from the ground.
 
 346 APPENDIX. 
 
 'Tis there in Shrovetimes, those famous love times, 
 
 The maidens oft-times they do repair, * 
 With cheeks like roses, not to mind their noses, 
 
 And artificial posies set in their hair. 
 On every Tuesday, their nate and spruce day, 
 
 In new cloth boots they assemble there, 
 From mountains wandering, and through vales meandering 
 
 They come philandering from far and near. 
 
 The lovely lasses, as a bouchal passes, 
 
 Through pigs and asses, they look so sly, 
 While Dhonal Cruaig or Paddy Buaig, 
 
 And ould Nell Twohigf make the match hardby. 
 A few nights after, midst mirth and laughter, 
 
 Each sooty rafter looks bright with joy, 
 While the lovely maiden like Eve in Eden, 
 
 With smiles is wedding her darling boy. 
 
 Black turf spontaneous, from distant ages, 
 
 Grows quite contagious unto the town, 
 Likewise the giush\ is growing most beauteous, 
 
 And quite profusious much farther down. 
 'Tis mighty plazing to see them blazing, 
 
 And the natives feasting with a happy smile, 
 With their sons and daughters on the kids they slaughters, 
 
 And huge beef quarters so juvenile. 
 
 * On the Tuesdays immediately preceding Shrove-Tuesday, pig fairs 
 are held in Dunmanway, at which, in addition to the sale of grunters, a 
 good deal of business is done in matrimonial speculations. 
 
 t Names of celebrated local match-makers. 
 J Ciush is the Irish word for " bog-wood."
 
 POETRY. 347 
 
 Were I Tyrtneus 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 reno\vn, 
 But did I inherit their poetic sperrit, 
 
 You'd get your merit, Dunmanway Town. 
 
 Cork CatbcDral JSells. 
 
 [Written on the occasion of erecting a Peal of Bells in St. 
 Cathedral, Cork.] 
 
 I. 
 
 WHAT joyous chimes, so new and sweet, 
 
 Ring out upon the winter air ? 
 See people pause in crowded street, 
 
 And peasants form their thanks in prayer 
 The solemn day the promised hour, 
 
 The smiling face of Nature tells 
 That now at length from yonder tower 
 
 Peal forth the Cork Cathedral Bells. 
 
 n. 
 
 Three hundred years have come and gone 
 Since last we heard those sacred chimes ; 
 
 But patient Faith kept burning on, 
 Expectant of more gracious times,
 
 34S APPENDIX. 
 
 And heaven's voice the tempest stays ; 
 
 Once more the Christian bosom swells, 
 And Cork pours forth responsive praise 
 
 To-day from her Cathedral Bells. 
 
 in. 
 Three hundred years of night and gloom, 
 
 Enlightened statesmen, was your meed 
 Of justice to a land whose doom 
 
 Was to preserve her cherished creed. 
 Vain all your arts to quench a flame 
 
 Which God's Almighty breath compels. 
 Peal forth a 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.
 
 POETRY. 349, 
 
 3'm 3Left alone. 
 
 [Written on the death of an intimate friend, a Fello\v Student ia 
 College.] 
 
 I'M left alone ! I'm left alone ! 
 
 And sorrows now betide me, 
 And drearily the hours have flown 
 
 Since thou wert here beside me. 
 My heart is lone ! My heart is lone ! 
 
 And dark'ning clouds surround it, 
 Because thy sunny smiles are gone, 
 
 That late were beaming round it. 
 
 n. 
 
 I'm left alone ! I'm left alone ! 
 
 Should friendship thus deceive me ? 
 Her sweets I scarce can call my own, 
 
 Ere those I cherish leave me. 
 Tho' charming was the wreath of love 
 
 She wove for us together, 
 'Twere better far she never wove 
 
 A wreath so soon to wither. 
 
 in. 
 
 I'm left alone ! I'm left alone ! 
 
 No more are round me ringing 
 That merry laugh, and mellow tone, 
 
 Of music once too winnincr
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Yet, still each loved and well-known sound 
 
 Within my bosom lingers, 
 On soft and sadden'd key attuned 
 
 By mem'ry's fairy fingers. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I'm left alone ! I'm left alone ! 
 
 Each morn brings thee before me. 
 And when the last day-beam lias 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 en, 
 
 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. 
 
 IN childhood's days I had a feeling 
 Around my soul for ever stealing, 
 As 'twere a secret, bright revealing, 
 That I should never die :
 
 POETRY. 351 
 
 Though youth and age around me faded, 
 By dark disease and sorrow shaded, 
 Yet I was ever well persuaded 
 
 Grim Death would pass me by. 
 
 But soon came Reason's light out-gleaming 
 My blissful childhood's starlike dreaming, 
 And showed me with her moon-bright beaming, 
 
 Alas ! another doom 
 She seemed to say serenely, slowly : 
 " Away, my child, that thought unholy, 
 And wake to Truth, however lowly ; 
 
 Thou'rt destined for the tomb." 
 
 And yet, amid my spirit's sighing, 
 An angel voice was ever crying : 
 " Within is something never dying 
 
 That meets no earthly goal ; " 
 When thro' the clouds with light surprising, 
 High o'er my doubting and surmising, 
 Religion's sunburst proudly rising 
 
 Revealed it was my soul. 
 
 'She pointed to the skies above her, 
 
 Saying : " Would'st thou be Religion's lover, 
 
 And I will to thy soul discover, 
 
 The regions of the Blest ; 
 Let earth take back what earth has given, 
 And when the chains of life are riven, 
 Come share with me and mine in Heaven, 
 
 Eternal peace and rest."
 
 352 APPENDIX. 
 
 A feeling strangely sweet came o'er me ; 
 I felt, while stood that form before me, 
 As if celestial pinions bore me 
 Away beyond the sky ; 
 And since that hour Earth seems a prison, 
 Where shines no ray of real bliss in, 
 And where I ever calmly listen 
 
 For Fate to whisper " Die ! " 
 KINSALE, May 22nd, 1856. 
 
 TJdbat wouldn't 5 Smasb for !?our Safie. 
 
 (A new song, dedicated to John M'Auliffe, Esq., New York, by the- 
 Author.) 
 
 OH ! Molly, my darling bewitcher, 
 
 Before I retire from the scene, 
 Here's your health in a full-flowing pitcher 
 
 Of genuine Irish potheen. 
 And here are the stick and the hand, dear, 
 
 A neck or a noddle to break, 
 Oh ! give me the word of command, dear, 
 
 What wouldn't I smash for your sake ? 
 
 When roaming alone o'er the prairie, 
 
 Far, far, from sweet Ballinaclash, 
 I envied the boys of Tipperary, 
 
 Who had skulls full and plenty to smash. 
 But, twirling my darling shillelagh, 
 
 That I cut in the ould Irish brake, 
 I thought of sweet Moll, and cried gaily, 
 
 " What wouldn't I smash for her sake ? ?>
 
 POETRY. 353 
 
 But soon, dear, I took to despairing, 
 
 And grieving we ever should part, 
 For I feared that the boys of ould Erin 
 
 Might steal from the exile your heart. 
 And, therefore, one fine summer's morning 
 
 My road o'er the waters I take, 
 To give all your lovers fair warning, 
 
 What wouldn't I smash for your sake ? 
 
 I've traversed the sweet groves of Blarney, 
 
 Where grows the shillelagh in style, 
 I've seen the proud lakes of Killarney, 
 
 Where nature so sweetly doth smile. 
 But dearer than ash, oak, or holly, 
 
 And sweeter than mountain or lake, 
 Was one glance in the bright eyes of Molly 
 
 What wouldn't I smash for her sake ? 
 
 And now, dear, alas ! I'm returning, 
 
 To traverse the prairie once more ; 
 My bosom with love, dear, is burning, 
 
 Farewell, darling Molly asthore. 
 But one day, if I don't fall in battle, 
 
 In the land of the shamrock I'll take 
 The hand of sweet Molly, and rattle 
 
 " What wouldn't 1 smash for her sake ? " 
 CORK, September i2t/i, 1863. 
 
 2 A
 
 354 APPENDIX. 
 
 TDope anD Jntsfafl. 
 
 ON a lonely rock, beside the sea, 
 
 Sat one of Earth's fair daughters, 
 And her eyes were gazing wistfully 
 
 Over the waste of waters ; 
 And by her side an ancient crown, 
 
 Stript of its pearly dower, 
 Bespoke a queen without a throne, 
 
 Bereft of queenly power. 
 
 Betwixt a rainbow and the sea 
 
 Uprose a charming vision, 
 The fairest sylph she seemed to be 
 
 E'er sent from realms elysian ; 
 Who, as she neared the rock-bound shore, 
 
 Ere winds or waves could keep her, 
 In sweetest tones e'er heard before, 
 
 Addressed the wondering weeper : 
 
 " Daughter of Earth, why weepest thou ? 
 
 Why mourn thus sad and lonely ? 
 Why seek this bold rock's beetling brow, 
 
 Where sea-birds habit only ? 
 What is thy name, and what thy race, 
 
 And what thy doleful story ? 
 Is it a tale of dark disgrace 
 
 Or of extinguished glory ?
 
 POETRY. 355 
 
 " Why gaze thus mournfully o'er the deep? 
 
 What is 't thy soul distresses ? 
 Mayhap thy shipwrecked children sleep 
 
 Within its dark recesses. 
 Though sad to-day, thy bosom ope ; 
 
 Speak frankly, child of sorrow, 
 For I am the consoler, Hope, 
 
 Who brings the gladsome morrow." 
 
 ' '" Bright messenger of Heav'n, hail ! " 
 
 Replied the beauteous mourner ; 
 " Hast never heard of Inisfail, 
 
 Or how the Fates have shorn her ? 
 Of all that man's rapacious greed 
 
 E'er deemed a priceless booty, 
 Of Freedom, land, wealth, blood and breed, 
 
 And almost all her beauty ? 
 
 *' A tyrant once came o'er the sea 
 
 A tyrant grim and gory ; 
 Ah ! weil-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 rne. 
 
 *' And prompted by the lust of gold, 
 
 The monster, cold and cruel, 
 Wrenched from my crown its wealth untold, 
 
 Each sparkling pearl and jewel ;
 
 356 APPENDIX. 
 
 Some emerald gems remain alone, 
 
 Alas ! I little need them, 
 The brightest gem of all is gone, 
 
 The priceless pearl of Freedom. 
 
 "And seven long hundred years have flown 
 
 Since o'er the seas he hied him, 
 And even the wealth of my poor crown 
 
 Glitters at home beside him. 
 I grudge him not his bauble prize ; 
 
 Poor gems, I little heed them. 
 Save one whose loss bedews those eyes r 
 
 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 j 
 And by the sword must be restored 
 
 Thy wealth beyond the water. 
 For never yet beneath the sun, 
 
 However rant or rave men. 
 Was Freedom to a nation won 
 
 But by the blood of brave men. 
 
 " Mark how the still unvanquished Pole 
 
 Bleeds for his dear Sarmatia ; 
 Remember Tell while ages roll, 
 
 How well he freed Helvetia. 
 Beneath the despot's iron goad 
 
 Gaul languished long unhappy, 
 Till brave men's blood in torrents flowed, 
 
 And drowned the line of Capet. 
 
 " Thy children bleed in foreign lands, 
 
 For others' freedom fighting ; 
 Would they but lift their vengeful hands 
 
 Their mother's wrongs in righting, 
 Ah ! then the gloom would pass away 
 
 That shrouds the Past's dark story,
 
 358 APPENDIX. 
 
 And in the light of Freedom's day 
 Rise Inisfail to glory. 
 
 " Why only weep for giant ills ? 
 
 Rise ! leave this lonely station ; 
 Go ! sound the clarion o'er thy hills, 
 
 And wake a slumbering nation. 
 Quick ! summon all thy children brave, 
 
 And onward bravely lead them ; 
 Thus only, on both land and wave, 
 
 Can'st thou win back thy Freedom ! " 
 
 21 HcQcnb of the S&annon. 
 
 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. 
 
 Eut why doth yon frail shallop bear 
 
 Across the rippling water, 
 At such an hour, Teresa fair, 
 
 De Burgo's only daughter ? 
 \Vhy flee's she thus, alone and free, 
 
 From home and kindred speeding ? 
 Why seeing sigh, yet sigh to see 
 
 Portumna's towers receding ?
 
 fOETRY. 359 
 
 Ah ! sure 'tis love alone can teach 
 
 A maiden thus to wander, 
 Yes, see ! upon the moonlit beach, 
 
 A youth awaits her yonder. 
 With bounding heart and eager glance 
 
 He views Clanricard's daughter, 
 Like some aerial being dance 
 
 Across the rippling water. 
 
 The brave O 'Carroll ! he for years 
 
 Had dared the Saxon power, 
 And taught the force of Irish spears 
 
 On battlefield and tower, 
 Till one sad day saw fall his best 
 
 And bravest kerns around him ; 
 Insatiate for revenge, the next 
 
 'Mid Burgo's clansmen found him. 
 
 'T\vas then Teresa's soft blue eye 
 
 First wrought its magic power ; 
 Teresa's love now bids them fly 
 
 For aye from yonder tower. 
 " Now hie thee, love ! " O'Carroll cried, 
 
 " By yon fair moon I swear thee, 
 Far, far away from Shannon's tide 
 
 This faithful steed shall bear thee." 
 
 " For this I braved thy father's wrath, 
 He swore the kern should shun thee, 
 
 But I had plighted thee my troth, 
 And I had died or won thee.
 
 360 APPENDIX. 
 
 Now hie ;" but hark ! Teresa fair 
 What peril now had found her ? 
 
 Oh see ! 'mid shrieks of wild despair 
 The waters close around her ! 
 
 As to the serpent's witching eye 
 
 The victim bird is borne ; 
 Quick as from out the warring sky 
 
 The lightning flash is torn 
 So dashed into the dark, cold wave 
 
 Teresa's frantic lover, 
 But while he stretched his hand to save 
 
 The tide rolled calm above her. 
 
 Though time hath since flowed fast away, 
 
 The Shannon rolls as ever, 
 And oft upon a moonlit bay 
 
 That hems the noble river, 
 The midnight wanderer has espied 
 
 A steed, while o'er the water 
 The tiny bark is seen to glide 
 
 That wafted Burgo's daughter.
 
 POETRY. 361 
 
 21 Jteautttu! translation. 
 
 [We direct the attention of our readers to a. translation of the German 
 poet Burger's celebrated ballad, "Lenore," at the hands of the Rev. M. 
 B. Buckley, of Cork, which appears in our columns to-day. Amongst 
 the numerous translations of this immortal chef d 1 ceuvre, we doubt if any 
 so forcibly expresses the meaning, or so artistically fashions forth the 
 beauty of the original, as this. In one respect, at least, it differs from 
 them all, and that is its strict fidelity to Burger's metre. It is refreshing, 
 in this hard, practical age, to find that a man, burdened as Father 
 Buckley is, with the cares of an arduous mission, can snatch a few 
 moments, now and then, to wander himself, and conduct others, through 
 the pleasant paths of literature. But, even in his moments of pleasure, 
 the priest is not forgetful of his sublime vocation, viz. : to inculcate 
 lessons of virtue, for " Lenore," embodies one of the noblest morals 
 ever preached to Christian man.] American Paper, 
 
 Xcnore. 
 
 [From the German of Gottfried August Biirger.j 
 
 LENORA sighed, one early morn, 
 From troublous dreams awaking : 
 
 " Oh ! Wilhelm, wilt thou ne'er return, 
 Thy love so long forsaking ? " 
 
 With Frederick's army to the war 
 
 Had Wilhelm gone to Prague afar ; 
 
 And never sent, that distance, 
 
 A token of existence. 
 
 The king, and eke his royal queen, 
 
 A love for war disclaiming, 
 Forget at length their hateful spleen, 
 
 A welcome peace proclaiming : 
 And home the host, with trump and drum, 
 And flute, and fife, and bugle come, 
 Green leaves their brows adorning 
 That merry sunbright morning.
 
 362 APPENDIX. 
 
 Then far and wide, in swelling tide, 
 Through high and by-way spreading, 
 
 Flocked young and old, to view the pride 
 Of heroes homeward treading. 
 
 " Now, God be blest ! " cried wife and child, 
 
 "Oh, welcome ! " shouted bride half-wild ; 
 
 But, ah ! no soldier wore a 
 
 Sweet smile for lorn Lenora. 
 
 Then low and high, with speech and eye, 
 
 She questioned of her lover ; 
 But not a trace of Wilhelm's face, 
 
 Or fate, could she discover. 
 And when at length the march was o'er, 
 Her raven hair she wildly tore, 
 And on the earth, with passion, 
 She sat in maniac fashion. 
 
 Her mother cried, with gesture wild, 
 And heart with grief o'erladen : 
 
 " Oh, God ! have pity on my child ! " 
 And clasped the frantic maidc.i. 
 
 " 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. 
 
 " Oh ! mother, mother, idle dreams ! 
 God hates thy child too well, it seems ; 
 Sure prayer avails one never 
 When hope is past for ever ! " 
 
 " From God alone, if we repent, 
 
 A Father's love we borrow, 
 My child, receive the Sacrament, 
 
 'Twill soothe thy pain and sorrow ! " 
 " Oh ! mother, mother, speak not so, 
 No sacrament can soothe my woe ! 
 What sacrament can waken 
 The dea"d whom God had taken ? " 
 
 "Thy lover, child, hath sure trepanned 
 Thy heart with love o'erladen, 
 
 And traitorously ta'en the hand 
 Of some Hungarian maiden . 
 
 Then teach thy bosom to forget 
 
 He'll reap the curse of treason yet, 
 
 When soul and body sunder 
 
 His vows will wake Heav'n's thunder ! " 
 
 *' Oh ! mother, mother, woeful day ! 
 
 He's gone, and I'm forlorn, 
 Come, death, and snatch my soul away 
 
 Oh, would I ne'er were born ! 
 Out, out, my lamp of life and light ! 
 Out, out, in gloom and endless night ! 
 Oh, speak not of God's pity ! 
 Alas ! what kindness did he?"
 
 364 APPENDIX. 
 
 " Oh, God ! Thy vengeful scourge withhold 
 From her who raves before Thee, 
 
 She knows not what she says, then hold 
 Her guiltless, I implore Thee ! 
 
 Ah, child, forget those griefs of clay ! 
 
 Think, think on God, and yet one day 
 
 To thy soul will be given 
 
 Th' eternal Spouse of Heaven ! " 
 
 " Oh, mother what is heaven's bliss ? 
 
 And what to lose salvation ? 
 With Wilhelm is eternal peace ! 
 
 Without him is damnation ! * 
 Out, out, my lamp of life and light ! 
 Out, out, in gloom and endless night ! 
 Since Wilhelm's gone and vanished 
 All joys from earth are banished ! " 
 
 Thus rolled the tide of dark despair 
 
 Through lost Lenora's bosom, 
 Thus did she rage 'gainst God, and there 
 
 Blasphemingly accuse Him ! 
 Her breast she beat, her hands she wrung, 
 Till night o'er earth her mantle flung, 
 Till in the heaven's far height 
 Shone out the silver starlight. 
 
 And then, without was heard the stamp 
 Of horse hoofs, sudden ceasing ; 
 
 And then a horseman's martial tramp 
 In dreadsome sound increasing.
 
 POETRY. 365, 
 
 The door is reached the tinkling bell 
 Sounds through the darkness like a spell 
 Then through the hall there fluttered 
 A voice, as 'twere one uttered 
 
 " Up, up, fond child my lost Lenore ! . 
 
 Art waking, love, or sleeping ? 
 Would'st thou on Wilhelm gaze once more ? 
 
 Art laughing, love, or weeping?" 
 " Ah, Wilhelm, thou, so late at night ! 
 Alas ! I've watched and wept outright, 
 Sad were my wails and bitter, 
 But say, how rid'st thou hither?" 
 
 " I took to horse at early night 
 
 And rode from far Bohemia. 
 Come let us speed our true-love flight, 
 
 Quick, quick, sweetheart, why dream you ? " 
 " Ah ! Wilhelm, now that danger's past, 
 And coldly sweeps the midnight blast, 
 Why hurry thus and haste thee ? 
 Let thy Lenore embrace thee ! " 
 
 " Psha ! let the blasts of heaven bestride 
 
 The valley and the highland, 
 Back to Bohemian plains we ride, 
 
 This is no longer my land. 
 Come ! quickly dress, and spring behind : 
 We needs must travel as the wind 
 A hundred miles away, love, 
 And thou'lt be mine to-day, love."
 
 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. 
 
 Eefore her eyes the landscape flics, 
 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.
 
 568 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, Lencra?" 
 " Oh ! speak not, I implore you ! " 
 
 Now, lo ! upon a scaffold high 
 
 With supple feet and plastic, 
 Half visible in moonshine fly 
 
 A band of elves fantastic, 
 " Ha ! merry elves, come hither, pray, 
 Know you not 'tis our bridal day ? 
 With your fantastic treading 
 You'll grace our gladsome wedding." 
 
 Behind the pair the elfins rush, 
 
 As fear or fancy brought them, 
 Whirring as wind whirrs through the br.sb 
 
 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 brighl'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 I " 
 
 " Hark, hark ! methinks the cock doth crow 
 
 The sands of night are wasted ; 
 Soon will the breath of morning blow 
 
 We spirits dare not taste it ! 
 Alight ! 'tis o'er ! our weary ride 
 The bridal-chamber opens wide. 
 Ha ! ha ! the dead ride fast, love, 
 We've reached the end at last, love." 
 
 Before the iron gate now stands 
 
 The steed, with bridle hanging ; 
 A gentle touch from viewless hands 
 
 Opes wide the portals clanging ; 
 Asunder quick the portals fly. 
 Now o'er dark graves the travellers hie, 
 While ghastly in the moonshine 
 The stones o'er many a tomb shine. 
 
 Hark ! trembling, hark ; a wonder dread, 
 
 To start each slumbering feeling ! 
 The rider's garb falls shred by shred, 
 
 A spectral form revealing ! 
 His head, a hairless, skinless skull, 
 Grim, ghastly, gaunt, and horrible, 
 An hour-glass and a sickle 
 Equip the goblin fickle. 
 
 2 6
 
 370 APPENDIX. 
 
 High pranced and snorted wild the steed, 
 While blue flames skimmered o'er him ; 
 Then lo I the ground yawned wide beneath, 
 
 And from the vision bore him. 
 A howling cry, a serpent's hiss 
 From moonlit sky and dark abyss ! 
 Lenora raved with horror, 
 For death, grim death, cried for her. 
 
 Then danced beneath the pale cold moon 
 
 The elfin-band till morning, 
 All singing, to a sad quaint tune, * 
 
 Those solemn words of warning : 
 " Be patient, though thy heart should break ; 
 Bear all for the Great Chastener's sake. 
 Peace to your clay, Lenora 
 May God be mild before you ! " 
 
 flat- 
 
 [Written in 1864, when Flax culture was revived in the South of 
 Ireland, and a large Factory erected in Cork under the auspices of the 
 late Mr. Maguire.] 
 
 SOUND a paean to the flax, 
 
 Seeds of flax ! 
 
 What a harvest doth it promise of fine linen to our backs ! 
 Let us scatter, scatter, scatter, 
 
 From Rathlin to Cape Clear, 
 If we'd richer be and fatter, 
 Come, the flax-seed let us scatter 
 In the spring-time of the year :
 
 POETRY. 371 
 
 Sow in time, lime, time, 
 In the merry vernal prime, 
 
 Come drain the swelling sacks and exhaust the heavy 
 packs 
 
 Of the flax, flax, flax flax, 
 Flax, flax, flax ! 
 Then hurrah for the scattering of the flax ! 
 
 See the beauty of the flax ! 
 
 Growing -flax ! 
 
 In the smiling, days of summer-time how pretty doth it 
 wax ! 
 
 In the corners and the nooks, 
 By the bogs and by the brooks ; 
 Greenest of the green, 
 Gently it is seen 
 Waving to and fro : 
 How it smiles 
 And beguiles , 
 The leisure-time of labour, 
 As you saunter with your neighbour 
 Down the furzy old boreen, 
 While the setting sun is seen 
 
 Pursuing golden tracks just behind the mountains' backs. 
 Oh ! there's not a crop we grow 
 Fit to sow, 
 Pull, or mow, 
 But the merry smiling flax, 
 Yes, the flax, flax, flax, flax, 
 
 Flax, flax, flax ! 
 Then hurrah ! boys, hurrah ! for the flax !
 
 372 APPENDIX. 
 
 Hear the music of the flax, 
 
 Mills of flax ! 
 
 Where the clangour of machinery of peace and plenty 
 smacks. 
 
 Hear the merry voices ringing 
 Of the men and boys and women ; 
 See the merry eager clutching 
 
 And the dexterous unsheaving ; 
 Hear the melody of scutching, 
 
 And the spinning and the weaving 
 
 Of the flax ! 
 
 Hear the sounding of the pounding 
 And the scientific whacks, 
 As the O's and Mac's, 
 The Jennies and the Jacks, 
 Never dreaming to relax, 
 
 Work the flax ! 
 
 Oh ! merry sight to see, in those halls of industry, 
 The son of Erin's isle, 
 With the jocund genial smile 
 And the merry repartee, 
 Oblivious of the tax 
 Which their pocket never lacks, 
 Working ever at the flax 
 With the energy of blacks, 
 Singing flax, flax, flax, flax, 
 
 Flax, flax, flax ! 
 Then hurrah ! boys, hurrah '. for the flax ! 
 
 Oh ! the future of the flax, 
 Glorious flax !
 
 POETR Y. 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 oft" the silent tears, 
 And in holiday apparel. 
 
 Robed in linen of her own 
 A Te Dcum 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, 
 
 Whohcive liveclanddied for Erin, struggling onward to the last, 
 One name, at least, may not 
 By the minstrel be forgot ; 
 But as his visions glow 
 
 In the light of heaven's fire, 
 May his noblest anthem flow 
 
 To the memory of MAGUIRE ! 
 
 For we were, indeed, at zero, until he arose the hero of the 
 flax, flax, flax, flax, 
 
 Flax, flax, flax, 
 Until he arose the hero of the flax!
 
 374 APPENDIX. 
 
 Come scatter, then, the flax, 
 
 Saviour Flax ! 
 
 Annuller of evictions, 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 exhaust the heavy 
 packs, of the flax, flax, flax, flax, 
 Flax, flax, flax, 
 Then hurrah for the scattering of the flax ! 
 
 FLAXMAN. 
 LOAM LODGE, S.V/ Feb., 1864.
 
 POETRY. 
 
 2ln Srisb acrostic tec '<5S: 
 
 !75 
 
 A is an Array 'tis ours to repel, 
 13 is a Bigotry breathing of hell, 
 
 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 London Bridge !
 
 376 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Xaet 'IRose 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 sestatis, 
 Nee rnbet ex omnibus 
 
 Una cognatis ! 
 In hortu, heu ! sola 
 
 Suspirans marcescit, 
 Nam flos qui confleret, 
 
 Jam diu discessit. 
 
 Non sinam te miseram, 
 
 Sic deperive, 
 Scd volo cum sociis 
 
 Te condormire ; 
 Sic clemens do folia 
 
 Supra rosetum, 
 Perierunt sodales 
 
 Et gusta tu Icctum. 
 
 Sic peream, caris 
 
 Cum fuerim oibatus 
 Nee orbis Amoris, 
 
 Fulgebit gemmatus ! 
 In mundo horrendo, 
 
 Quis ultro mancrct 
 Si simul amatis 
 
 Carisque egeret.
 
 POETRY. 
 
 377 
 
 3ftU tbe ffiumper Jfafr. 
 
 FILL the bumper fair 
 
 Ev'ry drop we sprinkle 
 O'er the brow of care 
 
 Smooths away a wrinkle, 
 Wit's electric flame 
 
 Ne'er so swiftly passes, 
 As when thro' the flame 
 
 It shoots from brimming glasses. 
 
 Fill the bumper fair, 
 Ev'ry drop we sprinkle 
 
 O'er the brow of care 
 Smooths away a wrinkle. 
 
 'Sages can, they say, 
 
 Grasp the lightning's pinions, 
 And bring down its ray 
 
 From the slarr'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 
 Tin's ennobling thirst 
 
 For wine's celestial spirit ? 
 It chanced upon one day, 
 
 When, as bavds inform us, 
 Prometheus stole away 
 
 The loving fire that warms us. 
 
 FOCULA replete, 
 
 Frons enim rugosa, 
 Curse, potu Ircti, 
 
 Vini fit formosa. 
 Calicis ex ore, 
 
 Alte si potares, 
 Alus lepore, 
 
 Facile prcestares. 
 
 Pocula replete, 
 Frons enim rogoss 
 
 Curas, potu loeti, 
 Vini fit formosa. 
 
 Crelo de profundo, 
 
 Sapientes vere, 
 Jovis summi mundo, 
 
 Ignem detulere, 
 Sapientiores, 
 
 Nos, ut debacchamur, 
 Ccelo de leporis, 
 
 Fulgura furamur 
 
 Velles scire quare, 
 
 Pellimur confestim, 
 Vini sic amare, 
 
 Spiritum celestem? 
 Vates Promctheum, 
 
 Scimus cecinisse 
 Ignem sethereum, 
 
 Olim rapuisse.
 
 373 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 The careless youth, when up 
 
 To glory's fount aspiring, 
 Took nor urn nor cup 
 
 To hide the pilfered fire in. 
 But oh ! his joy, when round 
 
 The halls of heaven spying, 
 Among the stars he found 
 
 A bowl of Bacchus lying. 
 
 Some drops were in that bowl, 
 
 Remains of last night's pleasure, 
 With which the sparks of soul 
 
 Mix'd their burning treasure. 
 Hence the goblet's show'r 
 
 Hath such spells to win us, 
 Hence its mighty power 
 
 O'er the flame within us. 
 
 Fill the bumper fair, 
 Ev'ry drop we sprinkle 
 
 O'er the brow of care 
 Smooths away a wrinkle. 
 
 Fertur autem ilium, 
 
 Nulla cum adstaret, 
 Urna qu& scintillam, 
 
 Rutilam celaret. 
 Jovis inter aulas, 
 
 Circum se spexisse, 
 Ibique Bacchi mollis, 
 
 Crateram reperisse. 
 
 Foecibus cum meii, 
 
 Funditur scintilla, 
 Quoeque cum crateroc, 
 
 Ccruscaret stilla. 
 Virtus inde vino, 
 
 Hincque dum vivarium, 
 Igne hoc divino 
 
 Semper ardeamus. 
 
 Pocula replete, 
 
 Frons enim rugosa, 
 Curse potu lati, 
 
 Vini fit formosa.
 
 FOETR Y. 
 
 379 
 
 Cbc 10 S-rfob Sfff. 
 
 ft&ctnfcum. 
 
 OH ! my blessing bs on you old Erin, 
 
 My own land of frolic and fun ; 
 For all sorts of mirth ,nd "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. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 HIBERNIA, sis benedicta ! 
 
 Jucunda enim insula es : 
 Gratiori non occurrit viator 
 
 Quocunque dirigitur pes. 
 Bohemia de Polka se jactet- 
 
 Hispania jactet et se 
 Hibernica solum chorea 
 
 Delectat tripudium, me. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Then a fig for your new-fashioned waltzes, Hinc Galucoe, ergo, chorecc 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 gaudens in re 
 Tripudium magis dilexit 
 
 Et bene dilexit, nonne ? 
 
 Puelloc venuslas nostrates 
 Ceu cervse resiliunt, et 
 
 Non possunt attingere terram 
 Quin musicse sonitum det.
 
 3 8o 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 And oft in their hills and green valleys, Et saepe in colli seu valle 
 The old jig they dance with such grace, Saltantibus, sicut est mos, 
 
 That even the daisies they tread on, Pne gaudio sese pandentes 
 
 Look up with delight in their face. Subrident et gramen et flos. 
 
 This old Irish jig, too, was danced 
 
 By the kings and the great men of yore, 
 King O'Toole himself could well foot it 
 
 To a tune they called " Rory O'Moore. ' 
 And oft in the great halls of Tara, 
 
 Our famous king Brian Boru, 
 He danced an old jig with his nobles, 
 
 And played his old harp to it, too. 
 
 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. 
 
 Tripudio quondam nostrorum 
 
 Regum fuit deditum cor, 
 O'Toolius Rex id amabat, 
 ' Sonantibus Rory O'Moore 
 Temorensibus quoque in aulis 
 
 Saltabat Brianus Boru, 
 Nobilium stante corona 
 Suce citharse sonitm 
 
 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.
 
 FACETIAE. 
 
 A BOWL OF BISHOP. 
 
 IT is no use striving to cope with a bishop, for he is sure to 
 carry everything by mitre-right. He is the most imperious 
 of men, because he gives orders the moment he finds anyone 
 fit to receive them. Bishops, in old times, were given to 
 powdering, now they are content to make canons ; though 
 he may decry the use of wine, we are credibly informed that 
 he has many reserved cases of his own. A bishop, though 
 having very bad sight, may have a very good see. Though 
 he could not become a bishop without " Nolo," yet he 
 holds no low position in the Church ; dwelling in a palace, 
 and oftentimes sitting on a throne, he frequently gives away 
 a crown, and yet, at other times, could not raise a sovereign. 
 Though averse to prize-fighting, he makes his living by the 
 Ring. However he may denounce the vocation of Calcraft r 
 no man is a better hand at suspension than he. Like the 
 cholera, he makes a periodical visitation, but while the 
 cholera weakens all the firm, he confirms not only all the 
 weak, but all the year round. He may not translate a 
 foreign language, but he may himself be translated to foreign 
 parts. He may not lend you money, but he'll tell you when
 
 :8 2 APPENDJX. 
 
 and how it is Lent. Not over indulgent to himself, he grants 
 indulgence, nay even license to others, especially to those who 
 wish to lead a fast life. He may not have toast for break- 
 fast, but he often gets a surfeit of toasting after dinner. He 
 is ever hospitable, particularly to young clergymen ; indeed 
 he no sooner gives a priest an entree into his diocese, than 
 he helps him to a remove. He may be a handsome man, but 
 he must be ordinary. Sometimes, though quiet and sub- 
 dued in his disposition, he is often to the end of his life an 
 y/r^-bishop. Performing rights for others, he is content 
 with dues for himself. The bishop is the head of his own 
 chapter, which reminds us that he is the talc of this. 
 
 DEATH OF A DISTINGUISHED GRINDER. 
 
 THIS morning I lost by death one of my very oldest and 
 most cherished friends. I made his acquaintance some thirty 
 golden years ago, and from that moment to the hour of his 
 demise we Jived and loved together. I cannot boast of 
 having properly appreciated or requited his friendship,, for 
 the manifestation of that tender feeling was altogether one- 
 sided he lived and laboured for me, while I did very little 
 to promote his comfort or convenience. I could only 
 admire and commend his devotion on every occasion thai 
 offered ; in truth, it may be said, he was ever in my mouth. 
 But he did not stand in need of me, being perfectly inde- 
 pendent in his own resources, possessing a considerable 
 interest in his native soil, and having, moreover, a large 
 and profitable connection with the gum trade. He is a
 
 FACETIAE. 383 
 
 person of a very modest and retiring disposition, living in a 
 quiet row, where he was known only to his immediate 
 neighbours. The natural sweetness of his disposition was 
 never for a moment marred, though creatures of extreme 
 acidity of temperament frequently passed his way. When I 
 was preparing for college he was invaluable to me as a 
 grinder, for he was exceedingly well up in that profession, 
 and imparted his services with right good will, as if he had 
 a personal interest in the matter. And yet, with all his 
 natural talents, that modesty of character to which I have 
 alluded would never permit him to be drawn out, even in. 
 moments of his greatest excitement, which were not rare, 
 as he was very nervous by nature. I am indebted to him 
 for many wise saws, but his pet one was, " My boy, I would 
 fain keep a guard upon your tongue." Towards his latter 
 end he contributed largely by his energy and zeal to pro- 
 mote the interests of a local corporation, which grew and 
 expanded beneath his fostering care, and which now with 
 unfeigned sorrow deplores his loss. He had a penchant for 
 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 " accidental death," until it was 
 ascertained that the deceased had been for some time suf- 
 fering from a decay of the constitution, which, acting on a 
 nervous temperament, caused him to indulge during his 
 latter days in loose habits of living. He leaves no issue, 
 having disappeared root and branch. It may be said in
 
 -84 APPENDIX. 
 
 truth that he leaves a void which cannot be easily filled up. 
 His neighbours regret his demise exceedingly, for he was 
 to them a constant prop and support, and they look forward 
 with considerable apprehension to their own not remote 
 decease, which will no doubt be greatly accelerated by his 
 lamentable removal. He was interred with all the honours, 
 and sleeps in the hopes of a glorious resurrection, his- 
 occupation being gone, and never to be resumed, even, 
 in a future world ; for who on earth could imagine what 
 would be the functions in heaven of such a thing as 
 
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