ty but by the quality of their men that states are glorified! A
little book which told this great story would be a boon to our people.

It would be presumptuous to name the books which ought to be published in
such an enterprise, but we may profitably consider the class and character
to be preferred.

Big books of history are only for students, they are never read by the
people. But they will read picturesque biographies, which are history
individualised, or vivid sketches of memorable eras, which are history
vitalised. A dozen lives of representative Irishmen would teach more of
the training and growth of Ireland than a library of annals and State
papers. They would familiarise us with great men, whom the Celt loves
better than systems or policies. This is the class of books in which we
are most deficient; there is no memoir of Roger O'Moore, none of Luke
Wadding, none of Patrick Sarsfield, none of a man as fertile in intellect,
as firm in judgment as any of these, a man whom some of us have seen in
the flesh, the wise and fearless J. K. L. Mr. Fitzpatrick has collected
his letters and literary remains with commendable care, it only needs that
some sympathetic student should ponder over them till the electric spark
is kindled, that a new figure may be given to our imagination for ever.
The first great poet who sang the wrongs of Ireland with civilised Europe
for an audience, has never had an adequate memoir. He has been singularly
unfortunate in his biographer; Lord John Russell discharged on the public
several cart-loads of undigested diaries as "The Memoirs and Journals of
Thomas Moore." They are of little use to anybody at present, but a skilful
literary workman, or a chemist of the intellect, could extract a
delightful little volume from the chaotic mass.

How profitable it would be if the best men of this time would contribute
each of them a study to a gallery of representative Irishmen! We are
accustomed to say, with not unjust reproach, that England knows little of
our country; but, alas! my friends, we Irishmen know too little of it
ourselves. 'Tis a great possession given to us by a gracious God, which we
do not take adequate pains to comprehend; and the philosopher has declared
with profound truth that men only possess what they understand.

And we want works reproduced which have disappeared out of circulation.
The hundred best Irish books have been skilfully discussed in the
newspapers, but the young stud