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SPIRIT OP THE PRESS.
A Priest on Fenianism. Prom tho Cincinnati Telegraph. [The following piously prepared poison, labeled religion, is from the drug store of Rev. Dr. Purcell, Cincinnati, Ohio. Our readers will find in our editorial columns an article covering this and many other prescriptions that have been administered to our people by other D. D.’s. It is time that our people should take emetics to ease their stomachs of the Cullen, Moriarty, and Purse-sell English medicine.—Eds. I. R.] FENIANISM. To express my great delight in seeing it fast fading away, and the men who were its originators falling into utter in significance; proving them what I always thought them to be, a pack of knaves. I see some of these chaps of both wings have lately made an attempt for a reunion in a convention, in the Forest City. The Spiritualists held their convention at the same time and place. I declare this was very befitting for both of these bodies to congregate at the same period ; as one humbug should not be expatiated upon without the other. Now, I think it not very discreet for a person to term them separately, for he might as well call it a general Spiritualistic Assembly. One, in my opinion, was as “spirited” as the other, though 1 must admit, with the Fenians the spirits did not speak directly but had an agency for performing. The “spirits” of the Fenians were brilliant and pure, (?) [The writer is a good judge of the article.—Eds. I. R.] and caused no little humor when emit ing from their abode; call this a gag, if you like, and a large one too. These “spirits” caused considerable “gas,” and occasionally a “rap ;” the latter, of course, made on some Fenian’s pate. " It was indeed such a time as was never seen before, or I suppose will ever happen again. Here appeared all the true and valiant men of our race on the American con tinent. Here, also, was all the eloquence and genius of Erin, depicting in glowing colors what Ireland was. and what she was not. And the “spirits” paused all this. What a pity we could not attend. I declare it’s a shame, Mr. Editor, don’t you think 60? We are “degenerate” sons of “brave” Ireland to miss such a rare treat. It seems to be getting a fashion with the Fenians lately that they cannot congregate anywhere any more without being accompanied by the “ spirits.” (Vide details of the Fenian picnic at Chicago, not long since.) [Or Church fairs and festivals in Chicago and outside of there, where the “spirits” flow to bring in the nimble six pences.—Eds. I. R.] The Irish girls of Troy, N. Y., I am happy to perceive, have denounced the Fenians and their intended movements on Canada. “Nary a red shall you (meaning the Fenians) receive from us henceforth,” they say in one of their resolu tions. This is good news to all Irishmen who love law and order, and 1 most earnestly hope Irish girls elsewhere who have been deceived out of their hard earnings by these evil disposed individuals will openly declare an unwillingness to be imposed on hereafter in the name of “ Fenianism.” [This pious lover of good order, “ poorhouses and emigrant ships,” made one little mistake about the good news from Troy. If the servant girls would say “nary red” to the roving clergymen when the pay day comes at every hotel, and who are round as regular as the bailiff in Ireland, it might be as well for them, the girls, not the other women.— Eds. I. R.] A few evenings ago I bad the gratification of having a conversation with a female Fenian, and a very long confab it was too—nearly two hours. She was an old acquaintance, and hailed from a neighboring city, where but a little while back was a great Fenian stronghold. She was over zealous in the cause of Ireland,and said the grand “struggle” would transpire sooner than I anticipated. This female thought the Catholic clergy were going beyond their sphere when ever they talked about Fenianism—that they should confine themselves to the preaching of the Gospel alone and not dimerge into any political affairs or be against any people who were striving to overthrow tyranny. She professed to be a Catholic, and would respect the clergy as long as they complied with her wishes. I remarked that the clergy of the Catholic Church did not meddle with politics or preach against any people who were endeavoring to overthrow tyr anny and establish a government more suitable for the wel fare of the country. But that they did unceasingly advise any people who, when there were no prospects of success in their undertakings, and in which by any revolutionary movement (as in the case of the Irish people) they only riveted the chains more firmly. All wouldn’t do as she thought, in the late “ rising.” Irishmen would succeed in whipping John Bull if they (the priests) would mind their own business. Now, reviewing the names of “big” Fenians I found a namesake of hers among the number, in whom I had heard she felt great pride, and who does really figure most conspicuously in the ranks. I asked her what she thought of him. “Oh !” she replied, “he is one of the most scholarly and patriotic among the Fenian men. Would to heaven,” she continued, “ all Irishmen were as anxious to restore Irish independence, poor Ireland would not be very long a part of Johnny Bull’s dominion.” She would give money to the Fenians if they wanted it, and if she did not have it handy, she would borrow it, she said. “ Go ahead,” said I, “you will feel sorry for the utterance of such lan guage.” “Never,” replied she, “will I be sorry for assisting men who are working in such a good and holy cause.” Seem ingly doing her no good I dropped the subject. There was no room for conviction in her mind, (she being a woman,) and as you know', the women will generally have their own way, no matter how wrong they may be. The men are more reasonable and will listen to argument, and when facts are related will pause and consider over the matter. I dare say there is not one Irishman in Delaware to-day but thinks as I do, that Fenianism is a swindling operation. While, on the contrary, the majority of our women think it a grand affair What a difference. How foolish the women are. Now, I will say in regard to this aforementioned female opponent of mine that were this sharper of a namesake of hers to abandon the Fenian ranks, half her patriotism would die away. She upholds Fenianism in his person. There is something after all to be of one name, yet how profitable it may be, I shall leave the reader to judge. Ha, ha, ha! Well, to resume my subject on the pretended reunion of the Fenians in the Convention at Cleveland, it is just the beginning of another scheme to cheat their countrymen out of some more of their hard earnings. Though full their pockets are, will make room for some more. Why talk of reuniting both these branches of Fenianism, who are to-dav in opinion about how Ireland can be freed from British thraldom as far apart as when they first made the “split?” Irishmen, beware ! These scamps will devise all the means in their power to cheat you, the father of lies being with them in their undertakings; and as you have already heard how cunning he is. If you don’t hold on to the advice of friends they will cheat you. They will be making a break for Ireland or Canada soon, and just as lar as they have gone before. They will, I dare say, “ blow ” more strenuously, be very argumentative, use more “polish,” but as you know them you ought to strive and keep aloof. They promised big things heretofore,and will promise the same things again to you, “Ire land, great,glorious and free;” but after all the. money was pro cured, somebody they say throwed obstructions in their way, and consequently they failed. I indeed entertain but very little fears that my countrymen will be deluded again by these swindlers. Their plans, the most of them at least, are already discovered and cannot do much injury, or shave down very far into anybody’s pocket. Their paper, I see, is still running. Well, I tell you it takes no small share of “ spons ” to run such a huge thing as this, and as it does not very likely pay expenses they have to get money anyhow, under what circumstances it’s not hardly necessary to men tion, a poor man’s dollar is as good as a rich man’s, and by the money you get dishonestly for this you can purchase the same amount of goods as if it was well earned. Tiie Irish Republic, I expect, must continue to come out to jlro claim “ freedom to all men.” Some people think this a great paper. Well, I admit it is doing some big talking; all of which is received with rapture by the enemies of our race and holy religion. In this regard do I think it a “great” institution only. It is a disgusting and contemptible rag, whose editor, I dare say, is a hypocrite at heart, and doesn’t believe in one word he writes. So much for Fenianism and The IrisI! Republic. MEETINGS, LECTURES, ETC. Mr. O’Blake as Lecturer. BLOWING UP THE BRITISH EMPIRE ! St. Paul, Minn., December 14,1867. Dear Republic: Here I am yet in this “holy land” up among the saints. The first settlers in this State must have been a very Christian people—the new ones pretend to be—for we find every saint in the calendar represented up here— St. Paul, St. Peter, St. Anthony, St. Cloud, etc.—barring St. Patrick. Now this is treating the Apostle rather shabbily, whose disciples have sent more saints to heaven—so we are told—than all the rest put together. Or can it be that St. Patrick, from his connection with our martyred nation, has inherited his share of our unpopularity ? How strange the name Patrick sounds in the refined ears of the world to-day, and yet, fourteen hundred years ago it fell on the Christian ear with that delightful tone that always flows from patrician lips. All I can say, for my part, is to reiterate Father Gro gan’s remarks to Antonelli, after going through some great pictorial gallery in the Vatican. “Well,” says Antonelli, “ what do you think of the saints ?” “ The devil a saint among them all like St. Patrick,” says Father Grogan. These are my sentiments, too, mister editors. My lecture here was a rouser, to use the vulgar, but ex pressive, language of the sporting world. By the by, why is it that the so-called vulgarisms of the day are so expressive ? I have an idea that the most of the English language had its origin in vulgarisms. What we call slang to-day will be in corporated into the polite literature of the next Century, thereby giving the unborn Shakespeares of the future a broader and more forcible idiom than we possess. I am running away from my lecture, however, and must rein in my imagination, which was always a careless rover. I had as much desire to behold the Mississippi as De Soto himself, and standing on one of those huge bluffs, “-nature’s castles,” with my caubeen describing the arch of a circle from my head to the full extent of my arm, and with swelling bosom crying, “ River of Freedom, a slave salutes thee,” the great discoverer paid no greater compliment to the “ Father of the waters” than I did. No greater? Not half so great. He came for conquest, I came for freedom. Still, he has the popular advantage. Spain, with all its chivalry and despot ism, is a more artistic background for a picture, than Ireland with all her misery. Well, well, the world is but a nursery, and “glitter and gloss” will always please its children. That the Mississippi deserves the title of “ Father of the waters,” I am quite willing to allow; but it is something like all our fathers, who were giants in their day, there are many of the children who, though not so big, are a good deal handsomer. I have seen some rivers stealing along the hills and valleys of Ireland whose music was just as sweet to my ear, and whose surroundings, though in miniature, were far more beautiful. Now that I have seen the great West with its prairies, mountains, rivers, seas—for remembering Lough Neagh and the lakes of Killarney, Superior, Ontario, Erie, etc., are more than lakes—I begin to appreciate what my friend Dillon Daly, emigrant agent, said in writing home for everybody to sell out and come to Minnesota, that Ireland was a miniature. So she is, God bless her, a perfect gem, as the artists say. She would look well on the brow of Freedom. If I keep on this way, I will never give you my lecture. I am like the cook at the christening, giving all the roast and boiled to his guests first and retaining the pies and punch for the last. Now that I am on the high road to glory, it will he some time before you see me in Chicago again. I have twenty en gagements from different societies, and have accepted them all. I mention this on account of receiving your notification to lecture at Cooper Institute, New York, on next St. Pat rick’s Day, subject, “ Gayoch”—loosely translated, this word means wind—“ and its effect on the Trish temperament.” That last outrage in that stronghold of the Lord, and em porium of heavenly unctions, which is London, gives me a ticket of leave for time ad libitum. This, with its surround ings and sequences, will give you Irish news without any bother. This same blow up at the Clerkenwell prison, in the “ city of God,” has set a strange train of ideas running in my head. Before they run off the track I will give them to you. When the lion of the fold of Juda («7eu;-de-Israeli,) had crunched the bones of the three men of Manchester and had roared as he thought over the grave of Fenianism, “the Queen and all the royal family and those in high station,” (see Path to Par adise,) became as serene as an English plum-pudding oh a Christmas table, before the jolly host puts a slit in its gizzard after saying grace. “We ’ave trifled too long.” “Fenian ism must be stamped hout.” “ The rope is the ruler to stop this Hirish dishaffection,” and paunchy John rubbed his oily palm over the solitary hairs that were pressed from the service of combativeness to cover his exposed self-esteem. Oh, my sanctimonious friend, the spirit of Ireland cannot be so easily laid. Every man strangled but sends a new spirit to join the army of our dead forefathers who haunt you, and will haunt you until God works through the living and the blood of his people is avenged. Even now, under the very nose of the lion, “Irish disaffection ” has risen, and even while the leonine roars were shaking the foundations of the land and the blood of the “three men dead” were dripping from his crimson jaws, retribution has risen. Call this what you like, ye sermonizers, who have never seen your land converted into a wilderness of graves, it has satisfied me that there are men ready to dare and do for Ireland. The condemnatory part of the work is that the sufferers, mayhap, in themselves were never guilty of a single death in Ireland.. But men who have seen their people driven from the face of God’s green earth viapoorhouse, prisons, famines, scaffolds and emigrant hulks by this English Government are not likely to be epicureans so great is their stomach for revenge. Let those—men, women, or spirits to deponent unknown—he called all the vile names in the vocabulary of heartless and pious tyrants, from assassins to murderers, they cannot be called cowards. And better for a nation that its people shall pass through the whole calendar of crime than that they should descend into this puling virtue called cowardice. Now, my train of ideas are something like this. The blow ing up of the entire British empire is not impossible to a desperate and perishing race. If the men who appreciate the position of Ireland—who behold her galloping at full speed to the goal of extermination—and who are willing to trample any and all considerations under foot for the preser vation of their “race and history,” will reflect a moment, they must come to the conclusion that there are but one of two courses to pursue. The first is to organize the power of the Irish race and hurl it on the enemy, and force him, by what is called “open warfare,” to surrender his usurpations. The question here is, can the Irish people be united? and if they can, how and who can do it? and when united, can they accomplish the freedom of their country ? If these things can be done, they are the most legitimate, and the only meatus that should be employed. The first, not being capable of solution ; the second consideration is, being doomed as a people and a distinct nationality to extermination, can we destroy our exterminator ? Twenty thousand men who are will ing to die can destroy the Government of England—Kings, Queens Lords, and all the et ceteras that go to make up that many-headed monster called the Aristocracy. If we are doomed to go out, it would be a fitting and glorious final to a race that had combined within it the highest talents that God ever endowed a people with, but cursed with the elements of discord that were fbrv ever snarling the thread of our golden story. ‘ Shorn of our strength by treachery and deceit, and dragged bound and bleeding into the temple of Dagon, where the brutal and un relenting Philistines are gloating over our misery, let us lift our unsubdued and believing souls to God, and with the strength of our holy despair pull down the temple and perish in the ruins of our enemies’ nation. Is there any prospect of the Kilkenny cats coming to an understanding ? If not, they should be tied by the tails and flung over some clothes line, (a rope,) and let them tear away until there is nothing left but said tails. Ihe tails should be taken and made soup of for the furies. At pres ent the cats are scratching out the eyes and bowels of their country while, I understand, they do little or no injury to themselves, in fact fattening on their mother’s destruction. Well, well, here I am at the end of my dozen pages, my allotted space, and no lecture yet. Nothing short of the blow ing up of the English Empire, and the flight downwards of royalty in search of their blue-blooded—at present flowing at