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They run ; they jostle ; they tread on each other. Push, and pull, and tug. Those talk most against riches who cannot get them. Clear the track for the racers! One of the thousand reaches the golden prize and mounts. Forth with the air is full of cries, “Got it by fraud ! Shoddy! Petroleum aristocracy! His father was a rag-picker! His mother was a washerwoman ! I knew him when he blacked his own shoes ! Pitch him off the back part of the golden chariot ! Cut behind ! cut behind !"
In many eyes success is a crime: “I do not like you,” said the snow-flake to the snow-bird.
Why ?" said the snow-bird. “Because," said the snow-flake, 'you are going up and I am going down."
We have to state that the man in the carriage, on the crisp morning, though he had a long lash-whip, with which he could have made the climbing boy yell most lustily, did not cut behind. IIe heard the shout in the rear, and said, “Good morning, my son.
That is right ; climb over and sit by me. Ilere are the reins ; take hold and drive ; was a boy myself once, and know what tickles youngsters.” Thank God, there are so many in the world that
"cut behind," but are ready to give a fellow a ride whenever he wants it. There are hundreds of people whose chief joy it is to help others on. Now it is a smile, now a good word, now ten dollars. When such a kind man has ridden to the end of the earthly road, it will be pleasant to hang up the whip with which he drove the enterprises of a lifetime, and feel that with it he never “cut behind” at those who were struggling.
CONDITION OF IRELAND.
15. THE CONDITION OF IRELAND.
The patronage and proscriptions of Ebrington have failed. The procrastination and economy of Russell have triumphed. Let a thanksgiving be proclaimed from the pulpit of St. Paul's !
Let the Lords and Commons of England vote their gratitude to the vicious and victorious économist ! Let the guns of London Tower proclaim the triumph which has cost, in the past, coffers of gold and torrents of blood, and, in this year, masses of putrefaction, to achieve. England ! your great difficulty is at an end; your gallant and impetuous enemy is dead. Ireland, or rather the remains of Ireland are yours at last.
Your red ensign floats, not from the Custom House, where you played the robber ; not from Limerick wall, where you played the cutthroat ; but it flies from a thousand graveyards, where the titled niggards of your cabinet have won the battle which your soldiers could not terminate.
Go; send your scourge steamer to the Western coast to convey some memorial of your conquest ; and in the halls where the flags and cannon you have captured from a world of foes are grouped together, there let a shroud, stripped from some privileged corpse, be for its proper price displayed. Stop not there ; change your war crest; America has her eagle ; let England have her vulture. What emblem more fit for the rapacious power whose statesmanship depopulates, and whose commerce is gorged with famine prices ? That is her proper signal. But
SPEECH OF DE LONGUEBEAU.
whatever the monarch journalists of Europe may say, Ireland, thank God, is not down yet. She is on her knee ; but her hand is clinched against the giant, and she has yet power to strike.
Last year, from the Carpathian heights, we heard the cry of the Polish insurrectionists : “ There is hope for Poland, while in Poland there is a life to lose." There is hope for Ireland, while in Ireland there is a life to lose. True it is, thousands upon thousands of our comrades have fallen ; but thousands upon thousands still survive ; and the fate of the dead shall quicken the purposes of the living. The stakes are too high for us to throw up the hand until the last card has been played ; too high for us to throw ourselves in despair upon the coffins of our starved and swindled partners.
A peasant population, generous and heroic, a mechanic population, honest and industrious, is at stake.
They cannot, must not, be lost.
SPEECH OF HECTOR DE LONGUEBEAU.
Speech made at a dinner of the City Fathers. There were present the Mayor,
the Aldermen, the Common Council, and other officials.
R. CHAIRMAN AND GENTLEMANS: Your ex
cellent chairman, Mistar Smyth Robingsong, he hare say to me,
“ Make de toast." Den I say to him dat I have no toast to make ; but he nudge my elbow ver soft, and say dat dere is von toast dat nobody but von Frenchman can make propar; and, derefore, wid your kind permission, I vill make de toast.
SPEECH OF DE LONGUEBEAU.
“ De breveté is de sole of de feet," as your great philosophere, Dr. Worcestar, do say, in dat amusing little vork of his, de Pronouncing Dictionnaire; and, derefore, I vill not say ver moch to de point. Ven I vas a boy, about so moch tall, and used for to promenade de streets of Pare vid no feet to put onto my shoe, I nevare to have exposé dat dis day vould to have arrivé. I vas to begin de vorld as von garçon
or, vat you call in dis countrie, von vaitaire in a café vere I vork ver hard, vid no habillemens at all to put onto myself, and ver little food to eat, excep' von old bleu blouse vat vas give to me by de proprietaire, just for to keep myself fit to be showed at; but, tank goodness, tings dey have changé ver moch for me since dat time, and I have rose myself seulement par mon industrie et perseverance.
Ah! mes amis ! ven I hear to myself de flowing: speech, de oration magnifique of your Mistar Chairman, and your Mistar Mayor, I feel dat it is von great privilege for von éiranger to sit at de same table, and to eat de same food, as dat grand, dat majestique man, who are de terreur of de tiefs and de brigands of de metropolis ; and who is also, I for to supposé, a halterman and de chef of you common scoundrels. Gentlemans, I feel dat I can perspire to no greater honneur dan to be von common scoundrelman myself; but, hélas ! dat plaisir are not for me, as I are not freeman of your great cité.
But I must not forget de toast. Gentlemans ! De immortal Shakispeare he have write, “ De ting of beauty are de joy for nevermore." It is de ladies who are de toast. Vat is more entrancing dan de charmante smile, de soft voice, de vinking eye of de
beautiful lady? It is de ladies who do sweeten de cares of life. It is de ladies who are de guiding stars of our existence. It is de ladies who do cheer but not inebriate; and, derefore, vid all homage to dere sex, de toast dat I have to propose is,
" De Ladies! God bless dem all!"
0, tell us not of Greece and Rome ;
We look for freedom nearer home ;
To justice and religion true,
We claim the human race our kin,
We'll waft this truth o'er every wave.