Indeed, as truth is often stranger than fiction, so Irish
history is more romantic than romance. How Queen Scota
unfurled the Sacred Banner. How Brian and Malachy contended
for empire. How the "Pirate of the North" scourged the
Irish coast. The glories of Tara and the piety of Columba.
The cowardice of James and the courage of Sarsfield. How
Dathi, the fearless, sounded the Irish war-cry in far
Alpine passes, and how the Geraldine forayed Leinster.
The deeds of O'Neil and O'Donnell. The march of Cromwell,
the destroying angel. Ireland's sun sinking in dim eclipse.
The dark night of woe in Erin for a hundred years.
'83--'98--'48--'68. Ireland's sun rising in glory. Surely
the Youth of Ireland will find in their country's records
romance enough!

The English and Scotch are well read in the histories of
their country. The Irish are, unfortunately, not so; and
yet, what is English or Scottish history to compare with
Irish? Ireland was a land of saints and scholars when
Britons were painted savages. Wise and noble laws, based
upon the spirit of Christianity, were administered in
Erin, and valuable books were written ere the Britons
were as far advanced in civilization as the Blackfeet
Indians. In morals and intellect, in Christianity and
civilization, in arms, art, and science, Ireland shone
like a star among the nations when darkness enshrouded
the world. And she nobly sustained civilization and
religion by her missionaries and scholars. The libraries
and archives of Europe contain the records of their piety
and learning. Indeed the echoes have scarcely yet ceased