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chair, by which committees have been named for seven parishes, in order to raise the Catholic rent, and the priests of each parish are placed at the head of their respective committees. You thus perceive the same county calls for the application of the old rent, if necessary, and takes the most active measures in order to raise a new fund. And, observe, the money is only required by way of loan. I also received, this morning, a letter from a most respectable man, and who has a very large fortune in Louth, (Mr. Thomas Fitzgerald, of Fainvally) inclosing rue a considerable subscription of the new rent, but at the same time approving strongly, in the event of necessity, of the allocation of a part of the old fund to the freeholders' relief. The deputies from Monaghan will inform you that a resolution to the effect which I have mentioned, inspire the people of that county with the strongest confidence, and will give fresh zeal to their exertions in the collecting of the new fund. ir. uth, the main object of the resolution is to impart a perfect trust to the people, and infuse into them a confidence in the integrity of those who are invested with the management of the national money. A further objection has been urged, which, if it were founded on fact, would deserve attention. It is grounded on the supposition that the persecution has ceased. This is certainly not the case. It has been stated, that in Monaghan tyranny had relaxed its energies. There cannot be a more eggregious mistake. I am authorise by the deputies from that county to state that oppression is in full activity. The series of miseries detailed to me would move the feelings of a man the least prone to sensibility. In Louth, the amiable and highly spiritualized Lord Roden has exhibited a practical exemplification of the effects of Bible reading upon his heart, and has commenced the work of retribution. It is to be wondered at, that a man whose mind should be "as smooth as the brow of Jesus," to use an expression of Jeremy Taylor, should have shown himself so susceptible to the worst passions by which our miserable nature is afflicted. I repeat it, then, the hand of oppression is yet uplifted in Louth. We must paralyse it before it descends-we must fly to the succour of the people. With respect to Waterford, the bare fact of that county having demanded £400, establishes beyond all question, that persecution is not at an end. I am assured that in Westmeath the rebellious tenantry are suffering the greatest hardships, and we are well aware of the measures of severity adopted in the county of Cavan. That election was remarkable for a disclosure of character in a person who was once notorious for his patriotism, (for he has been hurried by the impetuosity of youth into a dangerous extravagance of political virtue,) but has since given proof that a chivalrous love of country was not the domineering passion of his mind. His great wealth is the result of his own labour, and affords a proof how little intellect is required to take advantage of some fortunate accident, and to become a rich man. When he had acquired great wealth, he was told that liberalism in politics and in religion was a proof of mental superiority, and in order to pass for a philosopher, he continued patriot for some time. At length he purchased an estate in Cavan, and observed that all persons of the patrician class were addicted to

the principles of ascendancy. While he remained in Dublin he had the countenance of some men of rank, as a warrant for his liberality, but in Cavan there was hardly a gentleman who was not a good Protestant. A trait of character which had not been formerly discovered at length appeared in this worthy burgher, who may be designated as the "Sir Balaam" of Merchant's-quay. He became anxious for a reputation for good breeding, and found a terrible obstacle to his ambition in his former political addictions. His efforts at patrician elegance were ineffectual. "The yellow clay still broke through the plaster of Paris.' At a ball, which was not long ago given in Cavan, Lady Lucy M'Swadlum, and Miss Celestina Farintosh observed that the gestures of Mr. were in a state of continual rebellion against propriety, and his limbs were insurgents against grace. Finding himself in this deplorable condition, he consulted a certain noble lictor, who is distinguished for a prodigal use of the "fasces,” and inquired what in the world he should do to become genteel? "Whip me a boy or two, (said his lordship) or, at all events, turn Orangeman. It is a passport into good society, and will make as good a gentleman of you as most of us." It was with some compunction of spirit that Sir Balaam acceded to this process of transformation. His old recollections, the reminiscences o Bridge-street, and the spectres of his friends, with halters about their necks, came upon him. But at length his love of country prevailed, and he made a sort of compromise, by determining to play the patriot in Dublin, and the Orangeman in Cavan. Did any of you ever see the Siege of Belgrade?" Do you remember Yusef? If ever Lady Lucy gets up a private play, "Sir Balaam" should perform the worthy citizen of Belgrade, who becomes Turk and Christian with such a philosophic facility of transition, by her ladyship's particular desire. When Sir Balaam" had come to the determination to abandon his old principles, he resolved to display no ordinary alacrity in his new vocation, and saw that at the election an opportunity was offered to him for the manifestation of his zeal. He exhibited all the enthusiasm of apostacy. He was peculiarly "genteel;" in other words, in harshness towards his miserable dependants, he surpassed the more legitimate Orangemen of Cavan. "Bring up the cattle," was his familiar phrase at the hustings. "Pray, sir, what cattle?" said his agent. "The freeholders, to be sure," replied Sir Balaam, astonished at his not knowing that he referred to the useful and industrious class to which he himself originally belonged. The cattle, however, got restive, and Sir Balaam's reputation for gentility was much injured. This was a wound in the most vital point, and accordingly he has been relentless towards the wretched men who refused to sacrifice their consciences to his pleasure. But enough of him. I would not, I protest to God, for all his hoarded thousands, and ten times his estate, be capable of any of the acts of oppression with which he has taken vengeance on his unhappy tenants. I would not take the heart of such a man into my bosom for all that fifty years of accumulation has piled in his coffers. I thank God, however, that the wretches on whom he trampled were not left without succour. From who did it come? It is with a most pleasurable sensation-it is with

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that feeling of thrilling admiration with which a noble action is always told and heard, that I am about to recount to you an example of lofty and spirit-stirring virtue. I pray you to attend to it, for it does good to the heart to hear such things. There are two priests in that county, the name of one of whom is Egan, and the other Reilly. They belong to that class of our clergy who fall within Goldsmith's definition of opulence, and pass for "rich with forty pounds a-year." They had out of the humble contribution of their flocks, in the lapse of many years saved a sum of about three hundred pounds each, and when they heard that "Sir Balaam" was grinding his tenants to pow der, these teachers of the gospel-these humble imitators of Him by whom Christianity was first propagated through the world, gathered their flocks about them and said, "you gave this money to us—you are now in want and misery-we come to give it back to you-we look for no re-payment but in heaven." "The Lord hath given, and the Lord hath taken away-blessed be the name of the Lord." I do not wonder that you hear this statement of a most honourable fact with enthusiasm ; I shall not attempt to praise these humble and unostentatious ministers of God. I should travel in vain through all the language of panegyric -I should exhaust the whole repository of encomium. Glorious and lofty-minded men, you do not seek the praise of the world: you ask for no tribute of applause such as we can confer-your own hearts supply the exalted consciousness of surpassing virtue, and the eye of that God, by which those hearts are read, rests in pleasure upon two objects of his approbation as noble as ever issued from his hands. Shall we permit examples of this kind to be lost upon us? Shall we allow the poor priests to give away their miserable pittance, and to leave themselves destitute in their old age? They make no claim upon us, but shall we take advantage of the silence of benevolence, and allow them to remain unpaid. God forbid, and God forbid that we should abandon the freeholders, and permit the wretches upon whom we have entailed so much disaster, to remain without hope! For God Almighty's sake, let us not do any thing so base, so degrading, so utterly vile and bad as this! But independently of these considerations, let us remember, that even common policy requires that we should remove every feeling of distrust from the people, and that we should thoroughly convince them of a determination to give them effectual relief. If they are not saved from immediate oppression, with what face can we hereafter appeal to the spirit of patriotism, of which they have given such noble manifesta tions, and call upon them to perform the same part? Will they not justly say to us: "You worked upon our passions; you impelled us into rebellion against our landlords; you invoked us in the name of our country and of our religion, and you abandoned us; and, with the means of succour in your power, you refused to stretch out your hands to save us! You told us that we must wait, and that the time was not come, and that the old rent was a sacred fund; you put us off with excuses, and quibbles, and you left us with our wives and children to perish." It is therefore our interest, with a view to preserve the use of the great engine which we have obtained, to strain every nerve in the

support of the peasantry. However familiar the citation of the poet's celebrated lines may be, they cannot be more appropriately applied than to the freeholders of Ireland, and we may justly say,

"A bold yeomanry, their country's pride,

"When once destroyed, can never be supplied."

The peculiar applicability of the quotation rescues it from the triviality of common place. Never, indeed, can the spirit which has been awaked be supplied, if once we allow it to be extinguished. If the flame which has been raised through this country be once put out, every effort to rekindle it will be idle. But let it be only kept alive, and how noble and wide an illumination will it diffuse. How admirable will be the results upon the moral character of the people? With a sense of independence they will acquire that sense of dignity which is the source of virtue; and the meanest in the country

"Will learn to venerate biimself a man."

That high consciousness of their personal and political rights, which imparts so much elevation to the character of the English people, will grow up amongst them. They will no longer bow down before their landlords as if they were not compounded out of the same earth, and were not to be tried by the same God. Those exhibitions of degrading tyranny, which are so dishonourable to human nature, will no longer appear, and the aristocracy of Ireland will be themselves participators in the great national improvement. The representation of the country will be thoroughly reformed, and no man whose claims do not rest upon public virtue, will take his seat in the House of Ccamous. Catholic Emancipation is not the only measure which would result from this glorious liberation of the people, but a new principle would be grafted upon the government, and a fresh supply of life and vigour would be infused into the constitution These are splendid, but not visionary projects. Their realization depends to a great extent upon the course which we ourselves adopt. Not an instant ought to be lost in affording them assistance. It would be cruel and inhuman to bid them look to the new Catholic rent, and let months pass over their heads without relief. Wait till November, indeed! Alas! their distresses are at present sufficient to excite our commiseration, without waiting for the additional incentive to compassion which would be given by the winter wind. The spectacle of calamity which is already exhibited is sufficiently moving to awaken our sensibility, and we ought not to tarry until the rain shail descend on their beds of straw, and the storm shall howi through their hovels, and their naked children shall stand shivering in groups of misery, with frozen hands and faces, at their doors. Is there a man amongst us who, with such an anticipation of calamity before his mind, and who forms even the faintest image of the wretchedness of these poor people, will hesitate for an instant to fly to their relief? What shall we permit these miserable wretches and their families to be turned out of their habitations without fire, or food, or raiment? Shall we allow them to be cast forth to the mercy of the clements, and to be flung upon the public way to die? I put it to

myself—I made use or every effort which I could employ to induce the peasantry to rebel against their landlords in the county of Louth. If, in the course of the succeeding winter, I should have occasion to pass through that county, and I should meet a wretched man with his family in the public road, how should I feel, if, after asking him what could have brought him to such a pass, he told me, that "he was a fortyshilling freeholder, that he had voted for the country, and that the country had left him on the road-that he did not care for himself, but that when he looked upon his children, and on the mother of them, his heart was broken, and that the Association had desired him to wait for the new rent, and to starve upon a point of law?" Let me not be accused of exaggeration. Instead of heightening the pictures of distress by any fictitious colouring, I have no pencil with which I can do justice to the melancholy reality. You will hear from the worthy clergymen who are at present in this meeting, how much has already been suffered, and how much, it is probable, must be still endured. In the name of every generous and honourable feeling-for the sake, not only of the poor freeholders, but for your own sakes, and as you value your own dignity and character, and prize the future independence of your country, come forward, and by one simultaneous exclamation, signify your assent to a measure which will not only have the effect of rescuing the peasantry from ruin, but of rescuing your own character from ignominy and disgrace. Do it in the name of justice-do it in the name of humanity-do it in the name of Ireland, and I trust I do not take his name in vain, when I say, do it in the name of God.

WEALTH OF THE ESTABLISHED CHURCH.

SPEECH ON THE WEALTH OF THE ESTABLISHED CHURCH, AT THE CATHOLIC ASSOCIATION.

I GAVE notice that I should move an humble address to the Archbishops, Bishops, Deans, Archdeacons, and other functionaries of the church, respectfully submitting to their consideration the anti-apostolic condition of the Establishment, and praying them, with a view to their own salvation, to reduce their wealth within the dimensions of Christianity, and to some correspondence with the precepts of that holy book, of which they so zealously propagate the diffusion. I am not prepared o move the address to-day, for having drawn a rough draft of it, transmitted it to a friend of mine, a curate of the Established Church, who has seventy-five pounds a-year, and a family of ten children. He ought to have slept with a copy of Malthus under his pillow, instead of taking a beautiful pauper, who is endowed with a desperate fecundity, to his arms. I really thought that this amiable gentleman would in all likelihood, see the opulence of the sacred aristocracy of the church in a strong light, and upon that account I sent him the address, in