THE GENERAL. 



"Can she win?" — gee whiz — I reckoned 

 You had been out to the track, 

 Her quarter in thirty-two seconds 

 Made the favorite look like a hack. 



"Good actor?" — never a better, 



Head down and as clever as Mace, 

 Every stride right to the letter; 



The best trotter they have on the place. 



"Will he try?" — now that's a fine query 



Do you think they came here for their health? 

 You scribblers always make Turner weary, 

 Run along and get some of the wealth. 



For centuries Ireland has been referred to as the 

 nursery of noted men who, after abandoning the land 

 of their birth, became prominent on foreign soil. For 

 time out of mind the Irish have been referred to as a 

 people who were "driven from home," their troubles 

 beginning long before Cromwell transported hundreds 

 of them to the West Indies or any other point towards 

 which he could with safety send a ship. But with all 

 their misfortunes the Irish flourished, their valor, wit 

 and industry, blended with a temperament that comes 

 up smiling in the face of all kinds of misfortune, car- 

 rying them triumphantly into port. 



It is a long skip from Brian Boru to Bobs, but at 

 every step on the stairs you will find an Irishman 

 attracting attention either by his fighting qualities, 

 volubility, call it eloquence if you will, or disposition 



