MEMOIRS OF MY NAMESAKE. 125 



quotation, more or less correct — often most effective when coined — 

 from Homer or Virgil. He was such an enthusiastic admirer of 

 Cicero that he earned for himself the nickname of "Milo," after the 

 champion of the renowned orator. He spelled his name "Bourke," 

 from affinity with the elder branch of the family, and, therefore, 

 (bless the mark, although strictly historic) claimed descent from the 

 loins of no less a progenitor than Charlemagne. "A child of Charle- 

 magne, and down upon the French!" was once said to Edmund 

 Burke. 



In passing, it is right to say that my degenerate Burke (Bourke, 

 without the "O") — that is, degenerate in my case, but not in that of 

 inheritors — was given to me at the recruiting rendezvous, No. 12 

 Bowery, in 18G4, when I enlisted for a "bo} r in blue;" and to draw 

 my pay I had to drop the beloved "O" when signing the rolls, or "go 

 without." I have worn the junior name of the clan, "O'Buirk," ever 

 since. 



Half a century ago, on the glorious Fourth of July (you see I am 

 an American by natural right), the writer of this soenchus made his 

 first appearance on the troubled stage of the world. 



My memory of events commenced with the dangerous collisions 

 between "the O'Coimellites, or "Old Ireland Part} T ," as they were 

 called, and the followers of William Smith O'Brien, or the "Young 

 Ireland Party." 



In one of these conflicts, while in my father's arms, I was grazed 

 by a pistol ball fired into a crowd of the former party by one of the 

 latter, from a window of "Egan's brush factory," in Thomas street, 

 Limerick. 



Adversity. 



Ah, then came to Ireland the dreadful years of cholera and famine, 

 '47 to '49. My dear mother (requiescat in pace) was the first who sur- 

 vived the Asiatic plague. As a little hoj, pure of heart and white of 

 soul then (whatever I inay have been since), when my mother lay in 

 the embrace of the black death, I knelt on the highway, in the moon- 

 light, and I prayed, oh, so fervently, to God, close and personal as one 

 should always pray, to spare my darling mother, who was an angel 

 of modesty and mercy, if one ever lived on earth! My prayer was 

 heard; God gave me back my mother. For that, I have 

 always, worthy or unworthy, thanked God. By that I will always 



