AN GAOḊAL.
471
Before election no exclamation was more potent
with our hide-bound Democratic friends than
"Turn the rascal out," with a [natural] view of
getting in themselves. They did turn the head
rascal out, but it seems that the one they put
in is going to retain the minor "rascals." Then
where is the boasted "overhauling of the books?"
The fact of the matter is our friends were badly
sold. As usual, they can stand on "tippy toes"
and peep over the enclosures of the Federal crib
and the good things inside. Our friends may see
the whole plot revealed in the lying statement of
Henry Ward Beecher in the Boston Post.
THE BANKS OF THE LEE.
Translated
By MICHAEL CAVANAGH.
My grief was intense when from home I departed,
And sobbed, with dim eyes, "Farewell Eri mo stor!"
Though cheerful I seemed, yet I felt heavy-hearted,
At leaving my land — to come back — nevermore, —
At leaving each dearly-loved meadow and highland,
And Cork's pleasant town — that I never may see;
At parting the stanch men who stand by their Island —
The friends of my youth — on the banks of the Lee.
Oft-times has the sun lit the high arch of heaven,
And oft, 'neath the wave, has he sank to his rest;
Since poor "Mother Eri" I parted, bereaven,
O'er ocean to sail to this "Land of the West:"
But thoughts of her, still, my sad heart is illuming,
From day-dawn till eve over-shadows the sea ;
And often, in dreams, my old place I'm resuming
'Mong friends of my youth on the banks of the Lee
Oh! Dear "Rebel Cork!" Erin's premier city,
No traiter among your true children can dwell :
Your patriot daughters are beauteous and witty,
And sweeter than wild summer-flowers of the dell:
Brave Cork! my life's hope is to march in your vanguard
That long wished-for day, when you'll shout in your glee
To see your old clans muster 'neath the "Green Standard,"
For Liberty's fight on the banks of the Lee.
But now I'm grown old, fast my life's years are flying,
My form is bowed, and my head nearly grey.
Ere long, in the church-yard, for aye, I'll be lying,
From you — beauteous land of my love — far away:
But yet, from the Heavens, a blessing I'll send you,
My prayers, for your weal, ever offered will be;
The soul of the exile shall fondly attend you,
To light Freedom's shrine — on the banks of the Lee.
Mr. Blaine being elected but for a mere acci¬
entlast entlast Fall will be, naturally, run in 88. From
the unprecedented dullness in business outlook,
it is safe to say that if the election were to take
place today the free trade dilly-dallies would not
be noticed in the field. Labor is in the agonies of
starvation, and one word from Mr. Cleveland in
favor of protection would set all the machinery in
the country to work, but he has "sung dumb.
