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the community at large (renewed and repeated cheering). I have made it the study of my life, without distinction of creeds or politics, to do good to all (hear, hear, and cheers); for I never conceived why we should feel enmity to any man, no matter what his religion. I do not say this from any miserable egotism, but rather from a desire to bare the feelings of my heart before you (hear, hear). We may differ on controversial points; but we should all value the lesson of the Holy Gospel-'A new commandment I give unto you, that you should love one another.' I trust that as temperance has made us a great people, that it will also -and I have seen an instance of it here this day, persons of all creeds and politics uniting-prove a bright and golden chain, uniting all persons in one bond of union, and by this means making all happy (loud cheers). Once more, I beg to thank you sincerely (cheers).

During the whole evening the city was in a state of happy commotion, and to a late hour at night thousands of people filled the streets adjoining the humble residence of the great man, who witnessed their innocent gaiety with delight, and heard with gratified affection the enthusiastic cheers that followed every mention of his name.

Which of us is there, from the schoolboy to the minister of state, who does not long for and enjoy a holiday? Father Mathew also had his annual holiday, to which he eagerly looked forward; but it was with him a holiday of the heart and of the affections. It was usually enjoyed in the midsummer or early autumn, and always in his native Tipperary. For these three or four days his eldest brother John's house at Rathcloheen was his head-quarters; and the announcement of his arrival was the signal for gladness and feasting to his nephews and nieces, the children of his brothers and his sister. Nor was Father Mathew forgetful of the commissariat, as many a hamper and parcel, jar and box, amply testified. The dining-room at Rathcloheen was spacious enough to accommodate the whole of the Clan Mathew, who presented a formidable number, as some five-and-twenty of the seniors sat round the great table, and some fifteen or more of the juniors were disposed of at the side table. Father Mathew's orders were that all should be summoned to the feast; and all, save the infant in arms, were accordingly present. Good conduct, and capacity for managing a spoon with decent independence-these were the only conditions necessary for admission to one of those grand family banquets, at which the Priest presided, as the acknowledged and honoured head. And, for the time, there did not breathe a happier man than the giver of that feast, as he sat at the head of that well-provided board, and saw round him those whom he loved most on earth, and in whose every glance he met reciprocal affection; or as he listened to the innocent prattle and the gay laughter of the merry occupants of that side table. In that delightful spectacle, in those joyous sounds, he lived over again the days of his boyhood; and the ever-present image of his mother-his good and gentle and holy mother-rose more vividly upon his memory, filling his eyes with tears, but tears of chastened happiness. From his burdened shoulders and his wearied



spirit he flung his heavy responsibility and his grievous anxieties, and for these few brief days his spirits were the spirits of a boy. He played with the young people, entered eagerly into their sports, ran with them, romped with them, and promoted all kinds of novel and enchanting games.

The children were enthusiastic followers of their 'Reverend Uncle,' as they termed him, and cherished their silver medals with commendable pride. But it was not at all certain that the same enthusiasm was felt in the cause by some of the elder members of the family; still while the Priest was in Tipperary, water was the only beverage that sparkled in the glasses on the dinner-tables of his brothers.

John, the eldest brother, preserved a marvellous gravity when the subject of temperance was introduced, and was for some time held to be an austere convert to the cause.

On one of these visits, John Mathew was thus complimented by his illustrious brother :- My dear John, really I must compliment you on your appearance. I never saw you looking better; your complexion is clear and healthy, and your colour is so youthful! Why, John, I could not have a better proof than yourself of the virtues of temperance. You have got a new lease of life. It is well known, by your appearance, that you drink nothing but water.' John made some modest remark about his brother's kindness, but did not seem inclined to prolong the conversation as to his own merits as an abstainer, and turned it, as soon as he could, to the weather and the state of the crops. 'How good of John,' Father Mathew thought, 'to give up his little indulgence to please me.' Amiable delusion! Now, if there was a man in all Tipperary who had a conscientious respect for whisky punch, of course in reason,' John Mathew was that man. Like many others of the old school, he regarded it as a panacea for the cure of every ill to which the flesh is heir, from the lightest depression of spirits to the fiercest attack of the gout. Not finding it convenient to apply the elixir outwardly, he persistently applied it inwardly, but 'in moderation.'


The Priest invariably retired at an early hour, and silence soon after reigned in the house; and then John, the austere teetotaller, who had never taken the pledge, and who was determined never with the blessing of the Lord,' to do so if he could help it, quietly indemnified himself for his forced abstemiousness at and after dinner. polished brass kettle was placed upon the table, with the decanter, the glasses, the sugar, and the lemon; aud John mixed his tumbler, drank the Priest's health, wished the whole world as happy as himself, and enjoyed his punch perhaps with the keener relish because of the concealment which he was compelled to practise, 'out of respect for poor Theobald's feelings.'

It was on an occasion of the kind, when the door had long closed

upon the retiring Priest, and when John, having finished his first tumbler, had just artistically fabricated the second, with the aid of water screeching hot,' that a well-known step was heard upon the stairs. Awfully that footstep sounded to John's guilty soul in the stillness of that silent house. Nearer and nearer it came, till it approached the door of the dining-room, which now reaked with the unmistakable odour of whisky punch. What was to be done? Would the roof obligingly fall upon poor John? or, at least, would the ground open and swallow the now repentant Sybarite? Leaving on the table such damning evidences of his treason as the decanter, the glasses, the sugar, the lemon, and the kettle, John seized the hot tumbler, and, rushing from the table, made several ineffectual attempts to hide it away somewhere, anywhere-all the time being compelled to shift the glass from hand to hand. John was thus engaged, juggling with his tell-tale tumbler, and madly rushing here and there in the hope of concealing it, when the door opened, and the Apostle of Temperance walked in! The appearance of the Commander was not more astounding to Leporello than was this unexpected vision of his reverend brother to poor John. A desperate hope suggested itself to his mind, as he still clutched the tumbler, and then suddenly passed it to the other hand-perhaps the Priest walked in his sleep! But no, John; the hearty burst of laughter that smote your ear was a too convincing proof of the fact that the Apostle was wide awake, and that his eyes were now thoroughly open. Father Mathew made no remark, but quickly retired, having obtained a book for which he had been in search. It is not certain as to what manner John disposed of that luckless tumbler of punch, or whether he soothed his ruffled spirit with a third; but one thing is historically correct-that Father Mathew never again quoted John's improved looks as a signal triumph of total abstinence.

From his own house in Cove Street, the very temple of temperance, the arch-enemy was not wholly banished. Thus, one day, at a dinner party in that most hospitable of abodes, the flavour of the water was, to say the least, rather suspicious. The more rigid of the guests looked puzzled, while the younger ones tittered as they glanced at the little butler, whose nose was more than usually red, and whose eyes shone with a wild gleam. At last, Father Mathew put his glass to his lips, but at once placed it on the table, saying: 'John, what a strange taste and smell the water has! What's the matter with it? You must have had spirits in the jug.' Oh, yes, sir, I had to polish the tins, and whisky is very good for brightening them. Unfortunately, I put it into this jug.' The younger guests audibly chuckled at the excuse; but Father Mathew only remarked that it was all right,' and that he would not then trouble his butler by requiring a more elaborate explanation of the 'accident.'



Father Mathew honestly believed that his plum-puddings were made without the slightest admixture of whisky or wine; and he was frequently heard to say, 'Now there are some people, and sensible people too, who assert that plum-puddings cannot be made without alcohol; but that is as fine a pudding as I ever tasted, and there is not a drop of whisky in it. Is there, John ?' Oh, no, sir; not a drop,' was the invariable reply. But had there been a mirror in the room, by which the little man's face could be reflected, as he turned to the sideboard, a grin might be seen upon those puckered features, which would have cast some doubt upon the boastful assertion of his unsuspecting master.

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The Key to the Father's Heart-The greatest Miracles of all--Red
Denis-The Meeting in the Theatre Royal-The Man and the Cause-
O'Connell's Speech-A Monster Tea Party-He pays for it--Death of
his brother Frank.

THE greater the success and the wider the triumph of the temperance leader, the more earnest he became in endeavouring to obtain new converts. The spectacle of the happiness of the family of the sober man was as much an incentive to increased exertion in spreading the cause of happiness, as was that of the misery suffered by the family of the drunken man an incentive to try, if possible, to banish that source of misery from the land.

His belief that there was a key to every man's heart, if one could only find it, was one day touchingly exemplified. A Cork workman of the better class had fallen to a deplorable condition, in consequence of his drunken habits, and every day he seemed to sink deeper and deeper in the Slough of Despond. To render the calamity greater, he had a wife and a family of young children; and the madness of the father stripped the clothes from the back of his poor wife, and starved his wretched infants. The wife did all that a good and virtuous woman could do to reclaim the man she had not ceased to love; but a kind of devil had taken possession of him, and he became a savage, as well as a confirmed drunkard. Twice, at her urgent entreaty, Father Mathew called at their miserable place, and used every effort to subdue the ferocity of the husband; but all in vain. He did not, however, despair, but came a third time, and used every argument, and tried every mode of persuasion; but the man was sullen and dogged, and even insolent. Nothing daunted, Father Mathew persevered-pointing out to him his sad degradation, the desolation by which he was surrounded, the misery of his wife, the spectral appearance of his

innocent children. But to no purpose, save to inflame his anger. 'Father Mathew,' said he, 'you have no right to come to me. I am a Protestant, and you are not my clergyman. Don't dare interfere in my affairs -I don't want your advice-I can do without you or it-and the sooner you leave this the better.' The wife was pale with apprehension, as the last plank of hope seemed to fail her; and the half-frozen and starving children cowered in a scared group, out of the way of their dreaded father. Seeing that further attempt would do no good at that moment, Father Mathew turned to leave; but as he was passing the children, he took one of them in his arms, and kissed it, and patted its little head, and spoke kindly to it; and when he placed it on the floor again, he slipped a piece of money into its hand. This was done quietly, but the gleam of the silver caught the eye of the hardened man, who was looking wickedly in that direction; and no sooner did he behold what had been done, than a miracle was worked in him-his whole being was changed in an instant; and flinging himself on his knees, he cried out, amidst convulsive sobs, 'Oh, my God, pardon me! Here is this good man, who has acted more like a father to my children than I have ever done; he would feed them, and I have starved them. God forgive me! God in His mercy forgive me!' He then humbly besought Father Mathew to give him the pledge, the words of which he repeated with fervour. That man was saved, and his family were rescued from the workhouse; for the key had been found to the father's heart.

A gentleman, speaking of Father Mathew, and referring to the popular belief in his power of working cures—a power which he took every means of repudiating-said, 'If there ever was a saint from heaven, he was one. But as to his miracles, the most striking were the marvellous reforms he accomplished in people's lives. Men who took their twenty, and even their thirty glasses of whisky in the day, giving it up at his request-these were miracles. And their keeping the pledge was a greater miracle still.'

Miracles of this kind were worked every day, and in every part of the country, to the amazement of those who had made up their minds that such cases were hopelessly incurable. One week, for instance, a tattered, dissolute-looking, and dirty fellow might be seen reeling through the street, growling out curses at everyone le met, or venting his brutal wrath on some poor child, or miserable dog, that crossed his path; and the next week, a decent, well-dressed man might be seen passing the same street, his manner quiet, and his bearing to those he met kindly and considerate. This was but the exterior aspect of the transformation; but that worked within doors was yet more marvellous. There, the furious brute, more devilish than human, was changed into a lamb of gentleness-the desperate spendthrift, whose only object

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