tell their sorrows and
their wrongs without fear that they shall be increased by the
disclosure.

Third, one brief word of how this injustice recoils upon the heads of
the perpetrators, and I shall have ended. It recoils upon them
indirectly, by causing a feeling of hostility between the governors and
the governed. A man cannot be expected to revere and love his landlord,
when he finds that his only object is to get all he can from him--when
he finds him utterly reckless of his misery, and still more indifferent
to his feelings. A gentleman considers himself a model of humanity if he
pays the emigration expenses of the family whom he wishes to eject from
the holding which their ancestors have possessed for centuries. He is
amazed at the fearful ingratitude of the poor man, who cannot feel
overwhelmed with joy at his benevolent offer. But the gentleman
considers he has done his duty, and consoles himself with the reflection
that the Irish are an ungrateful race. Of all the peoples on the face of
the globe, the Irish Celts are the most attached to their families and
to their lands. God only knows the broken hearts that go over the ocean
strangers to a strange land. The young girls who leave their aged
mothers, the noble, brave young fellows who leave their old fathers, act
not from a selfish wish to better themselves, but from the hope, soon to
be realized, that they may be able to earn in another land what they
cannot earn in their own. I saw a lad once parting from his aged father.
I wish I had not seen it. I heard the agonized cries of the old man: "My
God! he's gone! he's gone!" I wish I had not heard it. I heard the wild
wailing cry with which the Celt mourns for his dead, and glanced
impulsively to the window. It was not death, but departure that prompts
that agony of grief. A car was driving off rapidly on the mountain road
which led to the nearest port. The car was soon out of sight. The father
and the son had looked their last look into each other's eyes--had
clasped the last clasp of each other's hands. An hour had passed, and
still the old man lay upon the ground, where he had flung himself in his
heart's bitter anguish; and still the wail rung out from time to time:
"My God! he's gone! he's gone!"

Those who have seen the departure of emigrants at the Irish seaports,
are not surprised at Irish disaffection--are not surprised that the
expatriated youth joins the first wild scheme, which promises to release
h