With the advice of the last stanza, I, for one, fully agree. Let Irishmen beg no act of grace from an alien Senate,- no miserable mouthful of liberty flung at them with all the contemptuous indifference with which a bone is thrown to a hungry dog. Cultivate self-confidence, my countrymen, which you sadly need blow the brains out of every whining knave who presents himeself as a fit and proper person to be your respresentative beggar at the gates of the brutal British Parliament; name the day for your redemption, and, with brave hearts, armed hands, and fearless souls, leave the rest to the God of Battles.
On the self-same principle that every man should rule his own family, so every nation, which is but a congregation of individuals, bound together for their mutual benefit, should govern itself. There are honest idiots, I know, who believe that the continuance of the connection with England would not only be better for Ireland, but the only salvation of that unforutnate island. But, such a thought, even, is contrary to reason, repugnant to intelligence, and revolting to every instinct of manhood. Let me ask, with Ireland completely free and enjoying the blessings of self-government, could such a monstruous deed as the Glenveigh evictions occur? Not likely. But then Ireland may have a native legislature, and still retain the connction? Permanently the thing is simply impossible. Experience has proved it so.
What I have written is, certainly, a curious introduction to a story: but mine is as much a history as a story, and its nature called for observations of the kind, when any at all were made.
I may remark in conclusion, that the principal incidents are, to a degree, in accordance with truth. I earnestly hope none of my peasant countryment shall evermore suffer the tyranny, or experiece the mister of the VICTIMS OF GLENVEIGH.