but they did not thrive. May Ireland read | agitation — you had representatives who placed their lesson well! Will she place arms in the a notice of motion to discuss the propriety and hands of better men than those who followed expediency of repealing the union on the books Charles Stuart's wayward fortunes from the day of the House of Commons; four or five times that his standard was unfolded by dark Lochiel, in the course of this session has that motion beuntil the gallows or the trench had the bravest; come the order of the day, and on all these times and weary exile, worse than death, fell to the your representatives have shrunk from the permen whose feet longed aye amongst the fairest formance of their duties-shrunk from the dissouthern flowers, to stand once more, if but to cussion vanished, disappeared, become absenstand a death's day, upon the springy heather. tees, until at last the worn-out patience of the House made theirs a dropped notice. - And why were they beaten? Why was Culloden reddened with their blood in vain? Because the nation was not sufficiently oppressed to make a struggle necessary for its rescue. Because many men foresaw that these islands were meant to be one state. Because they looked, as we look, to the coming of a vast people's empire from this union. Because the revolt was the offspring less of a wrong than of a sentiment, of a tradition, of a poor and weak vanity. Ireland is moved now for a sentiment for a tradition, through vanity and ambition, and by clever songs. Irishmen are called on to barter away their hardly earned shillings for pikes, too dear at any price; and old muskets more dan gerous to their owners in war than to their opponents. Fifteen months have now passed since the death of Daniel O'Connell. They have been employed incessantly in fanning up rebellion, by monstrous lies, in goading on unhappy people to their destruction. The sickle must now be beaten into the dagger, and the yellow corn be trampled down unreaped on Munster plains, that Mr. Meagher may wear a pretty sash of green, and red, and gold-that Mr. Doheny and Mrs. Doheny, aye, and Mrs. Doheny's sister too, may enjoy the homage of cheated thousands on the Cairn of Slievenamon that William Smith O'Brien, in his circle of the parties, may gain the attention and respect from the peasantry that he vainly sought from Tory, Whig, or Radical; for he has beat the compass round in search of a high seat, to find it, perhaps, where Haman found it at lastthat idle barristers, and moustachoed, gloved, periwinkle persons, between youth and age, may make money in the sale of pretended patriotism, which scorns industry, and calls Earl Clarendon a tyrant, because he proposes to teach the people how to draw the earliest and best crops from their farms; the sale of treason and recipes for committing murder, on sheets stamped by her Majesty's Stamp-office, posted onwards by her Majesty's Post-office; and yet, for selling which, poor newsmen and newswomen are dragged before the police tribunals, and imprisoned. These are the causes of the Irish rebellion in prospect or in progress; for, Irishmen, remember this damning fact in the tragedy of your So you would rebel for that which they cannot, or will not discuss. Your grievance galls you so deeply that you would die to escape its cutting pains, and yet, good friends, the men whom you elected would not explain your symptoms; except in their college of witches over the cauldron, where they were each casting in their bitter herbs-their envyings, their avarice, their vanity, their ambition- the knowledge that they were small men who could not climb, or indolent and talented men who would not work to climb to places of distinction in a great assembly, and who wished them to fall like ripe apples at their feet, from the tree of liberty, in College Green. You want a republic! An Irish republic! There are considerations at present in the way of gallant men forcing a Republic, even if they deemed it right. The sceptre is grasped by hands too weak for brave men to dash it rudely down with the sword-hilt or the pike-handle. The Crown sits on a brow too fair and free of crime against the people for men to raise a hand rudely to pluck it off. Nations are not to be oppressed by a tyrannical Queen. They need not permit a vicious woman to disgrace their chief seat, the throne of their State. But we, who are no courtly flatterers who seek no aristocratic favors — who claim nothing better than a rough and honest "democraism" - protest against republican agitation now, now of all reigns, and in all times, unless on the Athenian principle, that none again shall sway the sceptre, or wear the crown that has been once most wisely swayed, and once been gracefully and humbly worn. We believe that no monarch has ever ruled more loved by all good and right-hearted men amongst her people, than this Queen of the British Isles. From the Isle of Wight to the Orcades she needs no guard, and meets no inconvenience, unless it be inconvenience from the sometimes rude, but not the less real and valuable, attachment of the people. If we were earnest, anxious, time-waiting Republicans, we should reckon Queen Victoria a great calamity to our cause, and bless her all the while for knowing how to reign. But we are not hopeless of the combination of the throne and democ racy; and we are not persuaded that the supreme authority need be made a prize unto ambitious men to plot and cabal for—we are not certain that Presidents are cheapest on the whole, because we place no faith in the bare pole of statistics; and we are very certain that the gentlemen of Trinity Street could not have written and published so long that truculent treason with which they have disgraced the proprieties of discussion and the freedom of the press. There is no President of a Republic in the world that would have tolerated the open preaching of treason so long. President Polk would have tarred and feathered the system at once. General Cavaignac would have seized editors, types, and machines, on the first day's teaching of how to kill. In no other land could these Dublin writers-who rejoice in no name more than slaves, except felons - have enjoyed that liberty of giving bad advice, which they have abused with so much talent and effect. For fifteen months, since the death of O'Connell, this press has taught the necessity of rebellion, of civil war, of murderous assaults by female hands, by females; for the men of the clubs seemed to think it wise, brave, courageous, to get their fighting done by vitriol bottlesby hand-grenades from windows-by boiling water and molten lead cast out by fiends in petticoats, if any such there might be found. Yea, and during all this time, these very cautious fellows prated of Wallace, and Tell, and Washington, and all great men that have ever battled down a wrong, with God's blessing on their own stout hearts and strong arms, but would have dashed the coward to the ground with their mailed glaive, or their whip-handle, who whispered to them that treachery to humanity of bidding women fight with vitriol bottles, and lose all privilege that brave men, even in battles, cast cheerfully in woman's way. For fifteen months this work has gone forward. What has it done? A strong agitation for the repeal of the union has been ruined, and reduced to a shadow in the person of John O'Connell floating mournfully in his brother's yacht in the harbor of Cork. One coercion bill has been passed by the Government, armed with which the Lord Lieutenant has proclaimed districts of the country, and made even the retention of a pocket pistol a crime punishable by two years' imprisonment and hard labor. A commission went down into Tipperary, Limerick county, and some of the neighbouring districts, and left twenty peasants for the gallows; and remember, gentlemen of Dublin, you taught them to hunt for blood. The famine in the land has been laid down to Saxon account, as if the Saxons wilfully made the potatoes rot, to have the pleasure of buying and giving food to millions. No calamity was so fearful and so directly from God's hand, in which these parties traded not. Famine wearing out the wearied woman and her children, laying them down in a ditch to die: this fatal famine made cartridges for them. Fever, wasting the strong man, and dragging him into his shallow grave, was paraded before the world as a Saxon curse - a Saxon oppression a Saxon tyranny that made a sad and sorrowing household in many Saxon homes that had been happy. The veriest charnel-houses of disease and death were ranged for sufferings and deprivations to cast as crimes, not against the Saxon Government only, but against the Saxon people, as if we found joy in others' grief, and profit in others' sufferings and miseries. And what came next?-a bill to facilitate banishment for sedition. Next, the scandal of one man in twelve refusing to convict on the clearest evidence, on distinct avowals. Then, the charge of packing juries, though it was known that both parties, and all parties, packed and picked, in that monstrous delusion, the Jury law of England and of Ireland. Liberty, mark you, was making great strides. Freedom, you observe, was holding high holiday. Then came the proclamation of Ireland's metropolis, and the metropolitan county, along with one-half of the south of Ireland. And now, on the 22d and 24th of June, the temporary destruction of Irish constitutional liberty is accomplished; and such is Freedom's march to victory, as beaten from Trinity Street, Dublin! We do not misrepresent the character of the press, and the provocation that has thus warred against freedom, against peace, against life, and been successful. We take the last Nos. of two publications-two newspapers, dated on the 22d July, regularly stamped, and regularly posted to us. We have no wish to copy and put on record, permanently, the worst passages in these journals—or to do more in that way than merely to justify our statements. A person writing under the signature of "J. F. L.," and supposed to be Mr. J. F. Lalor, concludes his letter with these words: "In the one case we ought not, in the other we surely cannot, attempt waiting for our harvesthome. If opportunity offers, we must dash at that opportunity-if driven to the wall, we must wheel for resistance. Wherefore, let us fight in September, if we may - but sooner if we must. 66 'Meanwhile, however, remember this - that beginning must be made. Who strikes the first somewhere, and somehow, and by somebody, a blow for Ireland? Who draws first blood for Ireland? Who wins a wreath that will be green for ever?" The bloody question was answered on Tuesday night, the 25th July, when a confederate, named Monan, stabbed a policeman in the thigh with his dagger, and was apprehended, along with two companions. It will be a remarkable iniracle if the grayish hempen wreath that this man has earned will remain green for ever; but we shall hear. The same journal commences an article in the following fashion : "In the case of Ireland now, there is but one fact to deal with, and one question to be considered. The fact is this-that there are at present in occupation of our country some 40,000 armed men, in the livery and service of England; and the question is-how best and soonest to kill and capture those 40,000 men." A large question that for any man to put. The capture or the killing of 40,000 well disciplined, well armed, and brave men, is a serious question. We see not clearly any way in which it could be easily accomplished. But did you not say that the soldiers were with you once? Did you not assure the people who followed you that the army would not fire? Had you not sounded them on the proposal to fraternize? Were not your advances favorably received? Hints like that were freely circulated. Now it appears, as the army must be killed or captured, that these fond hopes were delusive. A prudent general would number his forces on the eve of a great struggle. The Dublin journalist adopts that course: diem for their support, a sum daily of £12,500. In eight days, a net capital of £100,000 will be expended; but will the British Government be beaten in eight days? Money, even although indispensable, is insufficient. Money cannot feed and clothe an host. There must be food and shelter provided. Bivouacking is necessary in certain circumstances, but disagreeable in all. The handling of 250,000 men is a very serious matter, requiring great resources, great tact, and indomitable energy. For that purpose a regular and numerous staff of officers is requisite. A careful and well appointed commissariat is necessary, with arrangements and precautions that have not, and cannot, have been adopted by the proposed leaders of the great army. Mr. Meagher may be brave - Mr. Doheny may be desperate - Mr. O'Brien may be stubborn; but neither party has, we understand, the advantages of military experience. strangers who may gather like vultures to the prey, will be unacquainted with the country. With the exception of the American gentlemen, they will be ignorant of the language. Old Ireland tried brave foreign officers in her struggles long ago; and jealousy took the place of peace in her armies. A similar result would occur in 1848. Jealousies would arise. The army would melt away. And the stubborn foe would be there still, with his iron grasp - the stubborn foe whom Ireland asks for an enemy instead of a friend. The Does Ireland ask that change? Who are the Irish? The questions are pregnant with mean "Ten thousand men in Meath- twelve thousand in Cork as many more in Dublin-tening. thousand in Limerick - fifty thousand on the top of Slievenamon with the ancient hills beneath their feet, and the eternal heavens above their heads, have devoted themselves this week to Ireland's service. A hundred thousand recruits in a week, no mean addition to the army of the League.' "Next week new counties and new towns will be called on to declare for the same League, and a quarter of a million men by this day week will be added to the muster-roll of liberation. No secretary may enrol them- no political godfather initiate them but enrolled and allied they will be, by the sanction of all the virtues, in the bonds of personal courage and mutual confidence. "Let the men who invoked this power and have got this response rejoice and tremble. Rejoice for their success, tremble for their responsibility. Once more the inextinguishable soul of Ireland animates its ancient forms and prepares to wrestle with its ancient enemy." On Saturday, the 29th July, the muster-roll of liberation would consist of 250,000 men. We take the figures as they are given. That number of men will require, at one shilling each per The Irish are the most mingled and mixed people in Europe. The old Irish people do not participate in this movement. They are to be found ir. the western districts of Connaught and Ulster, a poor but patient people; who have not hitherto joined in this or in any similar agitation. The eastern counties of Ulster are not those Irish whom the confederates reckon. The half of Leinster is of English descent, and indisposed to rebellion. There are said to be 13,000 Protestant operatives in Dublin alone, ready to resist the confederated clubs. Munster remains; but even in that province, the most disaffected, a very large and powerful body of the inhabitants will fight against club domination. These Dublin journalists deceive themselves. said that Ulster would join the League. They said that first; and next they said, we will go and try. The paper from which we have already quoted has the following paragraph:— They "The Protestant Repeal Association send out on Monday next two deputations to Ulster, who are to take different routes, and to form a junction within the walls of Derry. One, we hear, is to proceed by Dundalk, Newry, and Belfast; and the other by the interior towns through Monaghan, Armagh, and Tyrone. "We rejoice to hear of this expedition, and at this time. No one, however unscrupulous, can assert that the Orange demonstrations of this month have not been an utter failure. It is, therefore, neither intrusive nor unwise to test at present the positive quantity of national sentiment in Ulster; and no other body could undertake that duty so properly as the Protestant Repeal Association. "Let the deputies be zealous, prudent, active, and well armed with facts and figures. They are going on an errand of conviction into a land of intellect. To succeed in this is to save Ireland, perhaps, from revolution-certainly, from civil war. Let them go forth with a high consciousness of duty, and of the truth of their own cause, and they may do the greatest work that remains undone in Ireland. make Ulster part of a nation and Ireland a whole one." They may And how fared this deputation this most forlorn hope, travelling under disguised colors? On Wednesday they announced that they should not go. They submitted to the law; aye, and to more than the law-to the fact, that Ulster was an unsafe province for pretences. of Dromore, and Bishop Percy's Monument, because Dromore is a very Orange district. They have reached the ridge of Hillsborough; but every field, in all the weary miles from the Mourne Mountains, was a battle, and every house a fort, until the very ditches ran red blood, and the dark Ban tinged red the wide waters of Lough Neagh. And what a scene is here for a conquering army! Far almost as the eye can reach, the rich land sinks gently to the river; and all wide England has no richer scene — where mansion, tower, town, and cottage, cluster thick together o'er all the valley closed by the mountains that overhang Belfast. A scene for a conquering army that to take courage on, and be satisfied for many toils with this prospect of a rich reward. But through the green hedges of every lane steel glistens in the sun; countless red flags float heavily in the morning breeze; strange sounds are rising to the hill, and clouds of horsemen hover on every side; while mortar and howitzer begin to scatter death among the advancing multitudes, for rolling backwards, and accumulating like the avalanche as they moved the northmen have gathered here, to strike their last blow for home and freedom-and as the north, whatever the south might say, would firmly trust for liberty and faith. And who could doubt the issue? Your 250,000 menor all of them that remain — are there; but “a nation," equal in numbers to the Danes that defy Germany, have gathered to defend their faith, aided by the power of Britain; and what man in all the invading host so reckless as to dream that the day of their victories is not past, when they stand before that terrible array; We will allow the army of 250,000 men, commanded by the Dublin journalists, many victories. We suppose that they have beaten the forty thousand soldiers very severely. Cork, Waterford, Limerick, Dublin, Drogheda, are in their hands. Still the tide of war and spoliation - that ceaseless march of many battalionspours on; and the harvest of a thousand fields are beaten under their tread. At last the guardian peaks of the black north are in their view; for, remember, they must drive the English flaggirdling round the capital of their province, out of Ireland. The memory of ten thousand feuds are stirred in these heated breasts. Dundalk is passed, and they approach the mountain road, and then here and there, now and then, a flash, a report, a groan —a man is in eternity. How often sure and hidden marksmen repeat the experiment. But the army of liberation is two hundred and fifty thousand. They have gained the height, and far below rest Newry's town and towers- - that black North is before them smiling in its rich luxuriance; a province that might be the richest of the empire, but for the perpetual pressure from the South and West, of laborers, beating down the poor man's wages, and dividing with him his daily bread. The Liberating Army is fortunate - more successful than we should expect, and they have cleared, in a march that formed one running battle for days, a large space in the north. They have forced Loughbrickland, burned the manufactories on the Ban, destroyed the church-tower stirred by an hereditary hatred, sleeping and dying out, once and lately, but then to be revived. Strong in their determination—strong in their numbers-and stronger still in their tact of leadership- what man could hope in all these Southern wanderers-for better than a rapid flight, except a grave to hide him from the shame and the disgrace of wrapping his country in blood-trampling its harvests, slaughtering its sons, starving its daughters, and leaving scaithed and wretched homesteads to mark well ruin's path; yet providing something worse -two nations again in one land, separated by the feuds of blood and faith, by a quarrel that would not die out for centuries- a quarrel raised for an idle dream that never will be realized; and that, if accomplished, would make misery yet more helpless. We have given the Confederates credit for a success equivalent to the stretch of the most diseased imagination amongst them; since none of them is mad enough to think that they can take Belfast, without the consent of the Protestant population; and that consent they never will obtain; for, forgetting all former differences, nearly 200,000 enrolled Protestants, almost equal in number to the calculations of the Confederates, have offered their personal and pecuniary support in every way to the Liberal Government in the suppression of the revolt. The late Mr. O'Connell left a legacy of good advice to his followers. He told them that they never could carry repeal without the aid of the Protestant population. That is a great fact. But if repeal can never be carried without the consent of the Protestant population in a legal and constitutional manner, it is still more impossible to carry this measure against their will by violence. Mr. O'Connell knew the powers of his followers better than any other man: he was cognoscent of their power: he had studied their capabilities: he had read their history: he had traced their characteristics: he knew their opponents: he respected their firmness: he had marked their resources. And this great man, with fifty years experience, told his followers, "You must gain over the Protestants before you can carry repeal." In these circumstances, the insurrection can only be an affair of idle bloodshed- commenced for idle ends. Poetry is the right arm of the clubbist literature. The clubs of Dublin are strong in poets in true poets-full of energy, and who write true poetry. From the publications already mentioned we copy two sets of In open fray They cleft their way: And to the dauntless horde The vengeance due, From hearts as truc, Was rendered with the sword. "Now-writhing 'neath the Saxon's heel, We madly curse the hour That reft both hearts and hands of steel To fell the felon power, Which from our plains, And from our veins, The wealth and worth so draws, Can sheathe their brands, Would strike - not crave— "A social desert is our land; Its monarch power all-brute; And all that makes free nations grand Is lost like desert fruit; High powers of mind, To lift mankind Nigh God's eternal throne, Are marred or worse- Our land is not our own! Almighty Heaven! — stored in our hearts How long-how long till Saxon arts On freedom's tide- To dye the flood, If doomed to lie beneath!" Veritas in vino; and, most probably, the influence of poetic fits on some temperaments is not very unlike the influence of wine. They may bring the truth out. The complaint of this imaginative felon - the style they all now adopt - is that the laws are not written with reeking glaives. The insincerity of these people is manifest even in their verses. They pant for rebellion. They are anxious to dye the flood with their blood; and if they only involved themselves in the transaction, the loss to Ireland could be borne. The next slip of poetry has the same character of inconsistency: "The morn is beaming brightly, Where bristling sleep, where bristling sleep, Yon bayonet ridges sightly For us to reap, for us to reap; Our weapons are but few, boys, To meet th' array, to meet th' array, But hearts we have right true, boys, "I've words to say, not many, The proverb tells you now, boys'A sunny day to make the hay;' So on with you, and mow, boysJust clear the way, just clear the way. "We want no standard fine, boys, Of brilliant hue, of brilliant hue, For in our heart 's our sign boys, With scythe and fork to meet them, "With peace and patience pestered, |