of Commons, but could never hear him. Whenever he spoke, the house was seized with an universal fit of coughing. His eloquence is down to zero, and is so chilly and frozen, that his auditors immediately catch cold. The House of Commons is a far more disorderly assembly than the convivial convocations of the apprentices of Derry, and amidst the cries of order from the Speaker, and the intermingled sneezing, coughing, scraping, laughing, and expectorating of the house, it was impossible to collect a whole sentence of what he said. The only persous who seemed disposed to listen to him were Mr. Peel, Sir Thomas Lethbridge, and Mr. Butterworth. When he mentioned the name of Mr. Hamilton Rowan, and introduced the gray-headed father of one of the best officers in the navy into the debate, the face of Mr. Peel divested itself of "the conscious simper and the jealous leer," and with a savage exultation, he called upon the house to hearken to his kinsman's contumelies upon an old and venerable man. When Mr. Dawson ended a sentence with "Church and State," Sir Thomas Lethbridge awoke, and stretching his arms, yawned out "Hear," and I conclude that one of his periods must have terminated with an imprecation against his country and its religion, for Mr. Butterworth lifted up his hands and eyes to heaven, and ejaculated "Amen." I wish it to be understood that I do not pretend, for the reasons I have suggested, to give any minute description of Mr. Dawson's speeches in parliament, at the same time I may venture to assert, that he did not in the House of Commons invoke the shades of those who fell at Numantia or Londonderry. The mention of Numantia recalls to me another observation of Mr. Dawson. He has sneered at a reference made by me to Livy, and laughed at an alleged deviation on my part from the rules of Prosody. I did not use a single Latin word before the Committee. I did, indeed, refer to a passage in Livy, in answer to a question put to me by Mr. Peel, and in comparing the contests between the Patricians and Plebeians, to the struggles between the Catholics and Protestants, I pronounced the word "Plebeian," in a way which, I believe, grated upon the ear of Mr. Peel, and which he considered peculiarly discordant. I spoke it with more emphasis than sound discretion. Hereafter, however, in using the word, whether in the presence of Mr. Peel, or in reference to that gentleman, I shall endeavour to give it utterance with a less jarring intonation. So much for Mr. Dawson's charge with respect to Prosody. It is not a little ludicrous that the gentleman who brought this serious accusation against me, respecting an allusion to an ancient writer, did himself refer to that very writer for a description which is not to be found in his works. The books of Livy in which the Numantian war is detailed are lost. The next time Mr. Dawson undertakes to astonish the apprentices of Derry with his erudition, it will be judicious upon his part to quote froin those books only which have been preserved. Not satisfied with the Bonexistant authority of Livy, he also appeals to what he calls the plaintive lay of Horace," in his (Mr. Dawson's) lamentations upon Numantia. The Morning Chronicle has justly remarked that the name of Numantia occurs in a single live of Horace only, and it is introduced 66 without any mournful sentiment. I believe he is the first person who ever discovered that plaintiveness was characteristic of Horace. There is, in sooth, much matter of a fantastic nature in Mr. Dawson's oration He complains of ribaldry, while he "spits himself abroad." He mounts the chair of a professor, while he manifests the most deplorable ignorance, and charges his opponent with a violation of good taste, while in his speech, from which Scriblerus might draw new hints for the Art of Sinking, he throws himself from the ruins of Numantia into the filthies* dyke of Londonderry. That a man so low in parliament should have given such a loose to his oratory, amidst the huzzas of ferocious rabble, excites ridicule and contempt. But there is graver matter of accusation. After having stated to Mr. O'Connell that his evidence had removed many prejudices from his mind, he seeks in that new evidence a ground of hostility to his country; and he presumes in the same breata, to fling a miserable sneer at Mr. Brownlow. If he had not the virtue to follow his example, let him, at least, abstain from his vilification. He charges me with a mis-statement of fact. Did he not state that Hamilton Rowan had been attainted of treason? Was that true? And what are we to think of him and of Mr. Peel, when they dragged an aged man by the gray hairs into the debate, and in the absence of his gallant son, cast opprobrium upon his father, and struck a brand upon his name? The conduct of Mr. Peel and Mr. Dawson excited the disgust of all parties in the house. The good feeling of their own faction got the better of their political animosities, and they could not refrain from applauding Mr. Brougham when he stood forward as the champion of old age, and trampling upon the minister, made him bite the dust. Mr. Dawson is sufficiently injudicious to refer again to the shipwreck at Tramore, in relation to which Mr. Peel performed so paltry a part. A ship laden with soldiers was upon the rocks-an humble man plunged into the sea, and dragged eleven of his fellow-creatures from the waves. Mr. M'Dougal applied at the Castle for a reward; and the underling of Mr. Peel asked if he was a Protestant. Mr. Dawson boasts that the question was not asked by Mr. Peel. What matter is it since it was asked by the minion of his anti-chamber, who reflected his mind, and understood his wink? If the agent put the question without authority, it affords proof that he was an habitual interrogatory in his master's office. Mr. Dawson seems to think that my cross-examination afforded a complete vindication of Mr. Peel. If so, why did Mr. Peel procure himself to be examined touching that very matter, and convert himself from an inquisitor into a witness, in order that he might give evidence on his own behalf. It appears by Mr. Peel's own testimony, that the religion of Kirwan had been made matter of comment by a Quaker, and Mr. Peel has himself estab lished a further and a most important charge against himself, when he admits that Kirwan received no more than the wretched sum of £30 When I stated in the committee that the government at the head of which Mr. Peel was placed, had given this despicable remuneration, and that Mr. Peel had full cognizance of the fact, the members were astonished. They could hardly believe, though it is beyond dispute, that Mr. Peel could have appraised heroism at such a price. Let Mr. Feel argue the matter as he will, his web of sophistry will be withou! avail. He cannot get over the plain and most discreditable fact, that he paid for the lives of eleven soldiers at a less rate than £3 a head It is idle for him to allege that a certain quantity of the public money was allocated to the occasion, and that Kirwan got his share. Had he possessed one touch of generous sentiment, he would have thrown opeu his coffers, and flung a handful of his inglorious gold to the man whose courageous humanity was beyond all praise. Kirwan is to this day unremunerated; and if I may venture to speak of myself, I may with justice say, that I have done more for him than Mr. Peel. I repeat it, Mr. Peel is not a high-minded, nor is he a fair-minded mau. Contrast his former declarations with his present conduct. He stated in the House of Commons, that it was his anxious desire that the Catholic Question should be decided by the unbiased will of the legislature, and that, so far from endeavouring to excite, he would do all in his power to subdue the popular passions. How has he fulfilled this undertaking? He despatches his brother-in-law, his mere utensil, the creature of his smile, his political dependant, to this unfortunate country, in order that he may inflame the ferocious passions of an Orange mob. My friend, Mr. Conway, has placed his conduct in so strong a light that it is enough for me to refer to his admirable observations upon those barbarous festivities. I scarcely blame Mr. Dawson; he is but the emissary, the apostle of Mr. Peel, and is despatched by him for the purpose of exciting discord in the country, at the hazard of producing a re-enactment o. those scenes in which the North of Ireland has been drenched with blood. It is thus that his Majesty's injunctions are obeyed by his ministers, and that the precept of peace, of charity, and of love, is exemplified by Mr. Peel VOTE OF THANKS TO THE BISHOP OF WATERFORD, SPEECH IN MOVING A VOTE OF THANKS TO THE ROMAN CATHOLIC BISHOP OF WATERFORD. I RISE to move a vote of thanks to Dr. Kelly, the Catholic Bishop of Waterford. His praise may be expressed with as much brevity as force he has commenced the census of the Irish people-he has thus held out a noble example of the most useful kind of public virtue-he is an essentially practical man. There is an efficiency and an operativeness in his patriotism, which is peculiarly deserving of panegyric. The learned, pious, and energetic prelate did not allow himself to be swayed by any petty fears, or miserable solicitudes. He did not ask whether the counting of his flock was consistent with the rules of cold prudence and nice calculation. He did not stop to inquire how far the fastidious pleasure of the government should be consulted on this momentous measure. He did not hold out a wavering balance and allow a noble opportunity to escape in its adjustment. The only question which Doctor Kelly asked was put to his own heart-he simply asked, “Will it serve my country?"-and you have the answer in the result. But it was to be expected that this great undertaking should commence with a Bishop of Waterford; and when we recollect that Hussey and Power were the predecessors of the enlightened and intrepid man to whom their crozier has been so appropriately transmitted, it will not be matter of surprise that he has acted a lofty and patriotic part. They were his models, and he has improved upon them. Dr. Hussey, the first of those remarkable men, was conspicuous at a period when great talents and great determination of character were required. He was the friend of Edmund Burke, who addressed to him one of the most admirable of his letters. The phrenetical fear of Jacobinism, which amounted to disease in the mind of Burke, did not extinguish all love of liberty in the heart of that celebrated person; and, whatever might have been his distaste for the abstract rights of man, he looked with horror upon the oppressors of that land, in place of which he had adopted what he calls his better and more comprehensive, but which, I verily believe, could not have been his dearer country. It was on the eve of the troubles of Ireland that he wrote the letter to Doctor Hussey, in which his anxiety for Emancipation is so emphatically and so unaffectedly expressed, and it was about the same period that Doctor Hussey addressed his celebrated pastoral admonition to his flock, which contains so much wise injunction and so much intrepid truth. Cumberland has given in his memoirs a sketch of the character of Doctor Hussey, with whom he was well acquainted at the court of Spain. He represents nim as an able but ambitious person. The conduct of Doctor Hussey, when raised to the See of Waterford, justifies the encomium upon his talents, while it refutes the satire upon his morals-there was nothing servile, timorous, or compromising in his demeanour. He stood forward in the worst of times, with a stern and fearless aspect, and although he felt that every head on which the mitre was placed might be laid down upon the block of martyrdom, bated nothing of the loftiness of piety, and the attitude of courageous magnanimity which became a Christian pontiff. He addressed himself to the Pro-Consul of Ireland, with the boldness of an apostle, and claimed the franchises of a citizen. He it vas who did not fear to proclaim that great truth, which it required more courage than inspiration to announce. He was the first to trace the progress of that mighty spirit, the rapid and headlong course of which he daringly pointed out. Well did he anticipate all the events which followed, and it may be added, that he prophesied the scenes which are passing before us, when he exclained "The rock is loosened from the mountain's brow." Has not the rock been loosened, and is it not from the brow of the mountain? Have not the people become acquainted with their rights? Have not great passions and great desires been put into motion: Has not the rock been loosened from the mountain's brow and is it Lo rolling and bounding with accelerated velocity, and sweeping every impediment before it? Where will it rest in its course, and in what gulf will it lie at last? This is an interrogatory to which no man of our time will live perhaps to give a reply. Our children, and the children of our oppressors, will read it in the history of this unfortunate land, and God grant that its pages may not be written in blood. The intrepid ecclesiastic of whom I have been speaking was succeeded by a man of a gentler mood of mind, but not a less elevated and patriotic spirit. As you enter that magnificent house of worship which the Roman Catholics of Waterford have raised to the honour of God, you behold a plain marble slab, on which a beautiful inscription has been graventhe epitaph is not remarkable for any peculiar felicity of monumenta expression-it is not conspicuous for any funeral epigram; but it contains a simple and most eloquent fact, to the bare statement of which all its panegyric is confined, for it intimates that "the marble was raised to commemorate the Christian virtue of Doctor Power, by the Catholic, the Protestant, and the Presbyterian inhabitants of his diocese." The day on which the remains of that truly good and benevolent man were laid in the earth was a remarkable one-there was not a single Protestant of respectability who did not join the procession which followed his relics to the grave. That amiable and excellent person, whose life was an illustration of his precepts, was succeeded by a gentleman, of whom it is unnecessary to say more than that he was characterised by a spirit of political complaisance which arose from the imbecility of his intellect, more than from any vices of his heart. Upon his death it was found necessary to fill the See which he had left vacant with a man of a very opposite cast of mind. The clergy of Waterford looked round for an ecclesiastic who was fitted to the time. They wanted a man of high talents and acquirements, of a firm, decided, and manly character, with a bold and inflexible spirit, and something of a republican simplicity of mind. And where did they seek him? These lovers of despotism by religion, these necessary slaves, these men who are deemed insensible to the love of liberty, and incapable of its enjoyment, these Popish priests-looked out into the democracy of America, and selected for their prelate a bishop of the United States. It was among the forests that mark the boundaries of the United States, it was in the midst of the Savannas-in the midst of poverty and of privation, and surrounded with every hardship, that Doctor Kelly had evinced the qualifications of a truly Christian pastor. He had not, when far away from his country, lost his affection for the land that gave him birth, and his anxiety to do that service to Ireland which he has proved that it is in the power of every bishop to confer, induced him to accept the honourable tender which was made to him by the clergy of his native diocese. He came, and what more need I do than appeal for the results of his coming to the simple fact upon which I rest the resolution in which the gratitude of the Irish people is expressed? It did befit a man who lived in a free country, in a land of manly spirits and fearless minds, to put into accomplishment a measure which belongs to the spirit of genuine citizenship, and which enumerates the people for the |