Ireland would perish. Sadlier and his party plunged into the battle for religion, and fought so bitterly that, when they returned home after their defeat by the bill, they received from England the name of "The Pope's Brass Band," and from their country- | men the glorious title of "The Irish Brigade." From this moment the great and just Tenant-League movement was doomed, for it had fallen into the hands of a bold, bad man. It made a fierce and magnificent fight. Rent into warring factions; bitterly opposed by the clergy; through changes of ministry and dissolutions of Parliament; through hours of the wildest hopes and days of the intensest despair -the Tenant League fought on. Suddenly, in November, 1852, the Tory Government resigned, and Lord Aberdeen was called on to form a cabinet. This was Ireland's hour. No Liberal administration could ignore the Irish party in Parliament. The members were bound by the most solemn oaths, repeatedly sworn to a trusting people, never to support any administration that refused to grant the tenant-demands. Surely Ireland's salvation had come! Through the bleak, gloomy last days of the year the oppressed millions of Erin listened with bated breath. All too soon fell the words-Sadlier was Lord of the Treasury! The other leaders were high in office! The whole " Brigade" had gone over to the Government! An appalling cry filled the island from sea to sea; it was the death-wail of the hopes of Ireland.

But Sadlier had not yet done; political ruin could not fill the cup he was pouring for his stricken country. His speculations became more and more gigantic; his money moved the wheels of the four corners of the earth; he owned at one time every cargo of sugar in port or between the Indies and England. On an election-trial he was proved a perjurer. Forced to retire from the Treasury in disgrace, he plunged more recklessly into speculation; the clouds gathered; he had appropriated the last farthing from his Irish bank; he had but one resource left-vast forgeries. Then the storm broke. He knew that he had ruined his countrymen-that in a day thousands must be homeless and without food. He did the only manly thing that remained-he killed himself!

Beneath these crushing blows for six years Ireland lay stunned. At last she had that rest from agitation which so many deemed the one thing wanting for her prosperity. But this was not a healthy rest; it was the exhaustion of vital powers-nay, worse, it was the sullen lull before a storm. For the first time in thirty years the Irish were without a popular organization. They had lost all confidence in leaders and in one another. Even more calamitous than this was the loss of their confidence in constitutional effort; it boded sad things for the future. Never before in Ireland was the tone of political morals so low as now. Honor and good faith were derided; the elections were auctions for the highest bidder. But soon, among these dead embers, a small flame appeared. James Stephens, whom we saw last as a refugee in the mountains after the insurrection of '48, escaped to Paris, and there fell

in with the men of the European barricades. Well drilled in their tactics, he had now returned to Ireland, head and heart full of plots. It was an auspicious time. The outbreak of the Indian mutiny had aroused excitement in the island, and, as it was nearly denuded of troops, the demon of Conspiracy again peeped forth. Stephens found material ready to hand in "The Phoenix National and Literary Society." O'Mahony, Stephens's companion in flight, had aroused the Irish in America. Arms and men were there waiting. With this story the Phoenix Society was captured; in a few days Stephens and O'Donovan Rossa had inoculated nine-tenths of its members, who were then sworn in to the secret organization. This was the birth of Fenianism.

The history of Fenianism, pregnant as it was with results to Ireland, is too well known to Americans to need recounting here. One of its episodes introduced the next great chapter in Irish history. Colonel Kelly, the Fenian leader after the fall of Stephens, crossed to Manchester on secret business, and was arrested. While he was being conveyed from the court in a close van, an attempt at rescue was made, and, in the desperate struggle with the guards, Sergeant Brett was killed. The assailants were seized and brought to trial, and although it was clearly evident that the killing was accidental, the British blood was aroused to fury, and, on the evidence of a female thief, the men were convicted and condemned to death. At the trial the prisoners displayed a noble spirit. When sentence had been pronounced, they all advanced to the front of the dock, lifted their faces and hands, and cried solemnly, "God save Ireland!" Henceforth these words were the national watchword. The men were hung, and-fatal spite!—their bodies were buried in quicklime in unconsecrated ground within the jail. The political character of their crime totally ignored, and Christian burial denied! No more cruel blow could have been struck at the heart of Ireland. The whole country rose up in grief and anger. Funeral processions, in memory of the "Manchester martyrs," were held throughout Ireland; no such gigantic displays were ever seen there before; millions were in mourning. The better nature of Englishmen was touched by these strange sights. They suddenly became convinced that there was something, after all, in the cry of "Ireland's wrongs;" they began to ask themselves what the matter was, and what could be done. The English Liberation Society promptly seized the auspicious moment, and suddenly hurled at their countrymen fierce invectives of the Irish Law Church. In burning sentences they showed them that the cause of Irish discontent was Protestant religious tyranny; that all that was needed was to abolish this hateful caste, this sectarian garrison. The English people caught the spirit, and raised the cry of "Disestablishment!"

And the Liberation Society was right. The Church Establishment in Ireland was a standing badge of conquest. For years the subject had been agitated, but in 1864 the Catholic clergy, favored by

land shudders at the barbarities of Russia in Poland, of Turkey in Bulgaria, of the "White-Leaguers" in America. Let her contemplate what her own laws justified but ten years ago, and what they have not even yet rendered wholly impossible. The result of the Ballycohey tragedy was a thrill of public horror which led to the Irish Land Act of 1870. This, indeed, is but a half-way measure, and as such called forth fiercest invectives, as usual, from those whom it meant to serve. Yet it was a great stride in British legislation for Ireland. It secures compensation to tenants for all their improvements on the soil, and gives to them a certain property-right of occupancy. Thus evictions, although by no means impossible, can hardly again be of the old extent or brutality.

At this point, then, stands Ireland to-day. Within the past fifty years she has made such strides that she has almost fulfilled the burning prophecy— "redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled." The agricultural classes show a considerable advance, and national wealth a decided increase. Her educational gain, though yet "miserably bad," in comparison, has revolutionized the country. Sectarian animosities have almost totally disappeared in social and political life. But it is in the domain of politics that the greatest advance has been made. For, above all things, the people are now their own masters; neither priest nor agitator can evermore lead them with a bit. For Ireland, the day breaks and the shadows flee away.

IN

I.

N the month of October, 18-, the Times, a weekly newspaper published at W, Virginia, contained the following announcement:

"THE WONDERFUL FAMILY!
Will appear at Lyceum Hall, on
Thursday, October 26th.

The SEÑOR HErnandez, the SEÑORITA JUANITA, and MASTER JUAN HERNANDEZ,

In their unapproachable

FEATS OF STRENGTH AND SKILL, Which have been so universally admired by the thousands who have witnessed their astonishing performances.

In addition to his feats of

LEGERDEMAIN,

The Señor Hernandez will lift, in presence of the audience, 2,000 lbs. one foot !

And Master Juan, aged 7, will lift 500 lbs. ! Also, Performances on the Rope, and Startling Feats with Cards, by the

SEÑORITA JUANITA and the Wonderful Dog,

ALCOFRIBUS.

form in front, along which extended a row of shaded lamps, stage-fashion. From behind this curtain came muffled sounds, which plainly excited interest in the audience of solid citizens, little beauties with their beaux, and rosy-faced children, eagerly awaiting the marvelous performances.

A bell rang, and the curtain rose. In the middle of the stage was a sort of tripod covered with a cloth, and crowded with vases, gilt boxes, inlaid with pearl, a clock with ebon pillars, packs of playing-cards, and other objects, and against the feet leaned a guitar. In one corner stood two wooden "horses," such as carpenters use to lay planks upon in order to saw them. On these rested what resembled a light door. Against the wall in rear of the platform were ranged twenty one-hundred-pound weights, procured, to the knowledge of the audience, on that morning, from the iron-foundery of McGinnis & Co. in the town, with the name of the firm upon each in raised letters. Lastly, from two strong hooks in the ceiling depended cords about half an inch in thickness, ending in a cross-piece, like the seat of a swing.

The audience were in an excellent humor. They had not been compelled to wait. The bell rang at seven precisely, as the striking of the town-clock in

Children half price."

This was displayed in a prominent column of the Times. It also appeared in the guise of large placards pasted on walls and fences, attracting the admiring eyes of small boys. The town of W is ancient and quiet. Its citizens are chiefly solid and respectable old business-men, who enjoy themselves tranquilly, and take their families in the evening to lectures in the Lyceum, to concerts, or other amusements. Thus the advertisement of the Wonderful Family assembled an excellent audience at the hour appointed.

The W- - Lyceum was a public hall of considerable size; that is to say, it would seat comfortably two or three hundred people. There were three rows of benches with two aisles between them. At the end of the hall, opposite to the door, was a platform extending quite across the hall, raised about three feet from the floor. From a point in the ceiling above the centre of this platform red curtains fell to the right and left, and there was also a dropcurtain, which was rolled up or lowered by cordsfor the Lyceum was frequently used for tableaux and other performances. By pushing aside the curtains, sweeping to the floor at each side of the platform, you could gain access to two small dressing-rooms, also separated from the stage by falling drapery.

The money had been taken at the door by the old janitor of the Lyceum. No one had yet seen the members of the Wonderful Family. It was probable they were behind the drop-curtain, which was down, hiding all but about two feet of the plat

ance from one of the side dressing-rooms, advanced to the front of the platform, and bowed.

He was a man of about forty-five, with black hair and eyes. His figure was tall, straight, and powerful. His chest, arms, and limbs, were moulded like those of a Hercules, and his dress-or absence of dress, rather-displayed them clearly. This dress consisted of loose blue-velvet pantaloons covered with silver spangles, and reaching from his waist to just above his knees. Around his waist was a broad silver belt. His limbs and chest, upon which the muscles stood out in masses, were covered with fleshcolored stockinet. On his feet he wore something resembling the ancient Roman buskin.

The face of the Señor Hernandez was striking. His features were strongly defined, his eyes frank and honest, his whole expression one of gravity and patience.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, in a clear voice, without foreign accent, "I shall have the honor to appear before you to-night as a performer of legerdemain, as an artist on the rope, and as an athlete. Before doing so, I have the pleasure of introducing the Señorita Juanita and Master Juan Hernandez, also the dog Alcofribus, who will endeavor to amuse you."

The señor bowed in the midst of applause. As he did so, the curtain on the right of the stage was pushed aside, and a girl and boy hand-in-hand came forward smiling. The girl was about thirteen. She wore a blue-velvet dress falling to her instep, and on her small feet red-morocco boots laced in front, with plates of burnished steel attached behind the