No. 216.] 535 



us, and that we are able to relieve and sustain those whom it threat- 

 ened to destroy ; and still more fortunate that we did not leave the 

 opportunity of such well doing unimproved. 



When other things shall be forgotten, when this government and 

 people shall have passed away, when our language shall live only on 

 monuments, the charity of America to Ireland will be remembered. 

 If nations, like individuals, are held responsible for their deeds be- 

 fore the Great Tribunal, rnay it be remembered of us, that while with 

 one hand armed we shed the blood of wretched Mexico, an unworthy 

 foe, with the other w^e fed famishing Ireland. 



Imagine a fine city crowning the green shores of a beautiful bay. 

 The day is clear and fine; its towers and spires glitter in the light ; 

 the waters that roll beneath its walls, rippled by a pleasant western 

 wind, dance sparkling in the sun All nature is smiling and gay ; 

 the golden sky, the glittering ciiy, the green shores, the bright wa- 

 ters, combine in one glorious landscape of unequaled beauty. Seen 

 from afar, how surpassing fair it is! Happy the inhabitants of such 

 a region! 



But approach and see! While all inanimate is thus brilliant and 

 beautiful, and land, and sea, and sky in smiling concert seem to pro- 

 mise all that earth can give of pleasure and content, the shining city 

 and the verdant shore are filled and covered with thousands of human 

 beings dying of hunger. What a fearful contrast to the quiet love- 

 liness of nature does this mistry of the living present! Under the 

 influe:ice of this dreadful distress all ties of relationship and friend- 

 ship are forgotten. Families separate to roam singly in useless search 

 for food, or lie down to die together in groups. Men gaze wildly 

 on ench other when they meet, and filled with horrible thoughts turn 

 to look back as they pass. Fathers, perishing themselves, hear with 

 a feeling of relief, the faint complaints of those nearest and dearest 

 grow fainter till they are hushed for ever. Mothers see without re- 

 gret the heaving bosom that expires the last sigh of their little trea- 

 sures. 



Disease, the inevitable attendant of famine, is also doing its fear- 

 ful work. The air is heavy with foul and poisonous vapors. 



There they lie in scores and heaps, the living mixed with the dead. 

 All hope has long since gone. Some complain, some struggle, but 

 most are given up to dull and sullen despair. 



