tne millions who confided in your former laws, and as you nave done it-and massacred all Ireland trusting in you-I swear, before high Heaven, that you have mixed up a curse with your bread, which will eat into the marrow of your bones; and you have awakened in the swelling bosom of Irishmen, a flame of legitimate anger which will never be quenched, till you shall have made satisfaction for the sufferings, the extermination, the expatriation, the death, and I shall add, the massacre of the unoffending children of Ireland.

REV. DR. CAHILL'S LECTURE.

DELIVERED AT THE ACADEMY OF MUSIC, NEW YORK, MARCH 17TH, 1860.-"THE FIDELITY OF IRELAND IN DEFENCE OF HER LIBERTIES AND HER ANCIENT RELIGION."

ADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I assure you, though I have had the pleasure of meeting you here before, I never was so completely overpowered in my life as upon the present occasion. I have made a bow to you as gracefully as I could, endeavoring to acknowledge the compliment you have paid me, but that was with the front of my head. As there are a great many of my friends at my back, and as I am not able to make a bow with the back of my head, permit me to turn about and make a bow to the ladies and gentlemen behind me. I am endeavoring to take in breath to give myself voice to fill this most extensive hall. Since I have had the pleasure of being here with you, I have addressed large assemblies in the city of New York and elsewhere; but whether it is the height of the hall, or whether it is my excitement, I think this is the largest assembly I have ever seen in the whole course of my life. I never shall forget the compliment paid to me to come here this day. It is not so much the delight of meeting you here as the delight I experienced in witnessing your glorious procession. I came from the city of Troy yesterday. (A voiceWhere were you?) I like to see you all up to concert pitch, and I would be a bad performer, indeed, if we don't have abundance of melody this evening. I little thought of the glorious satisfaction that awaited me in looking at your procession. I assure you I never felt more proud of Irishmen than on this day. I have been told that if I had been present at the Cathedral this morning I would have

learned eloquence from the most beautiful and polished discourse of the gentleman who preached there to-day. I am sorry I could not be there. It is a loss I shall regret as long as I live.

When I went out to look at the procession I was delighted to see the number of banners, the cap of liberty over the harp of Ireland; and what I was very glad to see was the American flag side by side with every banner as it passed my hotel. The stars and stripes went, if I may use the phrase, hand in hand with the harp of Ireland. How I longed to be a great man, as I saw every one uncover his head as he passed the statue of Washington. I was delighted to see such worship, if I may so speak, offered to the memory of the dead. Thousands of men taking off their hats and bending themselves in humble posture as they passed by the "Father of his Country." I was delighted to see one man drive six horses, but my astonishment was drowned when eight horses came afterwards, to see the crowded reins in the hands of the skilful driver. Then I beheld the men clad in armor passing along, and I saw the forest of steel lifted above the harp of Ireland. A suggestive idea presented itself to my mind as I saw brave men, in regular military step, with their muskets lifted, their bayonets fixed, and there, going before, beside, and after, the glorious harp of Ireland.

I saw the cavalry, the soldiers mounted on their beautiful horses, and they held their swords so much to my taste, and they moved so regular, and the whole procession was so orderly. There were Ireland and America joined in the two emblems, the Irish harp and the American stripes and stars. But I was greatly astonished when I saw a man driving twelve horses. The horses seemed to go by the same kind of sense as if they were twelve human beings. When I saw the driver with the bundle of reins in his hand, and the horsee moving with such regularity and precision, I said, I would like to know the name of that driver. That man must be from Tipperary, and his name O'Connell, for that is just the way O'Connell used to drive a coach and four through every act of Parliament.

So you see I have been looking sharply; and my weakness was such, if you so call it, that, as the whole scene passed before me, and my heart upon Ireland, tears, Irish tears, stood in my eyes. Perhaps these tears made the men look bigger and finer, but I thought they were the finest men I ever saw. I have seen the

French, Austrian, and English armies; I have seen two hundred and fifty thousand men under arms; but somehow or other, knowing that the greater part of those passing before me were my countrymen, I took it into my head, from magnifying them in my heart, that they were the largest men I ever saw. My feelings were more than excited when I heard the beautiful band. Will you give me leave humbly to say that I am a musician, and that I have heard in this city about the best instrumental music I ever heard in my life. To-day the tunes were all Irish,-" St. Patrick's Day," "Garryowen," "Nancy Dawson,” the "Young May Moon," the "Sprig of Shillelah;" but the tune which quite astonished me - I don't know what you call it hereand that reminded me of my boyhood, was "Tatter Jack Welch." I listened to them all with the greatest pleasure; I was delighted with them. A thousand thoughts passed through my mind. My mind on that occasion was like a postman's letter-bag; everything was in it. I did not laugh; I had to cry. Had I been by accident or otherwise in the back room when the procession passed, I should have lost a glorious scene, which I shall tell of many a time when I return to my own country.

We are all here to celebrate the great festival of St. Patrick. I am sure everybody will agree in saying that this is a great day for Ireland, as well as for the entire Christian world. It is certainly a great day for Ireland-the greatest we have. But if you only reflect for a moment and read history, you will find that it is equally true to say that it is a great day for the whole Christian world.

I

suppose you do not forget that I have the shamrocks here next to my heart. When I was coming from Ireland, I intended to get a flower-pot made out of the clay of the County of Meath, and a sprig of shamrock from the same soil, and put it in my trunk, and bring the real shamrock to you; but I have replaced it by an excellent American shamrock, whose leaves are broader than those of the Irish.

Men meet in America upon stated occasions to celebrate the memory of their great politicians; if I may so speak, to worship the heroes of their country. From the time of the Grecian empire to the present period this has been customary in all nations. Men meet together to celebrate the memory of the man who struck off a Link from the chain of his country; the memory of the poet, who

elevated the genius of his nation by his divine poetical creation; or the memory of the artist, whatever art he may be engaged in; and all mankind rejoice, and feel pleasure and enthusiasm as they go forward, to point to the genius of one of their countrymen. But what signify art, and sculpture, and poetry, and patriotism, compared with Christianity?

When we celebrate the memory of a saint, a universal joy is felt in his country. Poets, sculptors, and politicians, and historians, and painters, they certainly generate a feeling peculiar to the various departments for which they excel. Men celebrate the principle, but do not imitate the men. We not only celebrate the principles of St. Patrick, but try to imitate him in practice. The Christian's anniversary is superior to every other, because mankind not only worship the principle for which a saint or martyr died, but being a saint and Christian, his memory is calculated to awaken an idea and enthusiasm, not only to respect his principles, but to follow his example in practice. Therefore, the anniversary of St. Patrick surpasses in that regard every other anniversary which can be brought to public notice.

St. Patrick rose over Ireland like a star in the west, and, like the stars fixed in the blue vault of heaven, there he has remained from that hour to this, not obscured by the storms of that country, and not lessened in his lustre by all the efforts of man to disturb the seed which he planted; and there he remains unobscured in the clear Irish skies (clear in religion); and as far as human forethought can go, and human sagacity can calculate, it is highly probable that Patrick's star will never se 'n that west. This anniversary is therefore a glorious day for Ireland. What a trifling incident laid the foundation for the conversion and future character of Ireland! A small boy on the coast of France-a lad, sixteen years of age was captured by the Irish. I do not really like to call them Irish pirates, but some historians say they were; but whatever they were, they captured Patrick at the age of sixteen and carried him to Ireland. He attended swine on the mountains of Antrim and elsewhere for seven years. His capture broke his father's and his mother's heart. All his kindred bewailed him. His uncle, a bishop, was inconsolable. He was a beautiful, fine young man, guileless, and while upon the seashore was captured by Irish pirates, torn from his home, and sub