ard, if ever. Succeeding speakers were
well received, the audience holding their ground. Mr. J. Hall, of
Cork, evoked great cheering by the affirmation that Protestants
desired no advantage, no privilege, unshared by their Catholic
brethren. Similar points made by other speakers met with an instant
and hearty confirmation that was unmistakable. Lord Sligo pointed out
that firmness and integrity were nowhere better understood than in
Ireland, and said that while William O'Brien, the great Nationalist,
visited Cork under a powerful escort of police, who with the utmost
difficulty prevented the populace from tearing him to pieces; on the
other hand, Mr. Balfour had passed through the length and breadth of
the land, visiting the poverty-stricken and disturbed districts of the
West, with no other protection beyond that afforded by "his
tender-hearted sister." Mr. Balfour rose to make a second speech, and
the enthusiasm reached its climax. The great ex-Secretary seemed
touched, and although speaking slowly showed more than his usual
emotion. When he concluded the people sent up a shout such as England
never hears--an original shout, long drawn out on a high musical note,
something like the unisonous tone of forty factory bulls.

The students went outside, and with their friends formed in military
columns--the outside files well armed with knobby sticks as a
deterrent to possible Parnellite enterprise. An extemporised arch of
Union Jacks canopied Mr. Balfour in his carriage, which was drawn by
hundreds of willing hands linked in long line. The column, properly
marshalled, moved away, keeping step amid loud shouts of "Right, left,
right, left," until perfect uniformity was attained, and the
disciplined force marched steadily on to College Green, following the
triumphal chariot with alternate verses of "God Save the Queen" and
"Rule Britannia," each verse interpolated with great bursts of
applause. At Trinity College the glare of torches appeared, and
simultaneously an organised attempt at groaning boomed in under the
cheering. Heedless of the rabble the column marched merrily on, not
with the broken rush of an English mob, but with the irresistible
force of unity in a concrete mass, with the multitudinous tramp of an
army division. The yelling slummers hovered on each flank, frantic
with impotent rage; willing to wound and yet afraid to strike, knowing
that to themselves open conflict meant annihilation. A savage,
unsavoury ho