indefinite period, through the instrumentality of the rope and the
bayonet; but now that beyond the seas, the terrible war cloud of
Fenianism fills the whole west, surcharged with vengeance and the
great, broad lightnings of American freedom, she reels to her very
centre, and begins to loosen her hold, claw by claw, upon her victim,
in the hope that her lacerated and bleeding prey may be satisfied
with a partial release from its sufferings, and still permit her to
hold it in her modified clutch. Here she shall fail, however; for the
people of Ireland know her too well to permit her to breathe the same
atmosphere with them, or preserve the slightest footing on their
soil. They know her to have been a traitor, a perjurer, a robber and
an assassin, throughout the whole of her infamous career. Besides
remembering her at Mullaghmaston and Limerick, they had a taste of
her quality in 1782, when, under the pressure of the Protestant
bayonets of the famous "Volunteers," she, by a solemn act of her
King, Lords and Commons, in Parliament assembled, swept Poyning's
despotic Law from her Statute Books, and relinquished FOREVER all
right and title to interfere in the local affairs of Ireland, only to
perjure herself subsequently, by creating rotten boroughs and
dispensing titles and millions of gold, for the purpose of
controlling those very same affairs, not only more effectually than
ever, but with the further view of diverting all the resources of the
country out of their legitimate channels into her own hands, so that
she should be at once the tyrant, and the purse and conscience keeper
of our race. They remember all this, we say, and now they are about
to call upon her for an account of her stewardship, and make her foot
the bill, and that, too, to the very last farthing.

Of course, we are aware that much of the elevated mind and strength
which invigorate the Irish element on this continent, in this