AN GAOḊAL.
869
he were an Irish scholar and an Irish¬
man, he would do all in his power to
scatter Gaelic literature in any form:
but if he be what he is reputed to be,
namely, an agent of England, then his
conduct is intelligible. See what the
straw shows: He has "condemned"
Archbishop MacHale, Canon Bourke,
O'Sullivan, O'Reilly, the veteran John
Fleming — in fact all the real Irish au¬
thorities — while he laudates Bedel and
Cony, the obscure employees of the Ex¬
eter Hall soupers. This is in parallel
lines with the hireling writers of Eng¬
land these seven hundred years.
He came to this country eleven years
ago, ostensibly for the purpose of giv-
"a course of lectures in the interest of
the language." When he saw that the
public knew that his lectures would
not buy him salt for his porridge, it was
then reported that he was a drummer
for a French vintner and later on, for
a Turkish house. Yet no one having
seen him transact any kind of business,
though his railway and hotel expenses
must be enormous as he traveled from
city to city like a railroad king — es¬
pecially those cities which were consid¬
ered centers of Irish patriotic activity,
inquiries were made among the liquor
dealers of New York and Chicago,
where he seemed to have his headquar¬
ters, but not one could be found in ei¬
ther city with whom he transacted
any business, wholesale or retail.
The question, then, is, from what
source did he derive his princely rail¬
way and hotel expenses? And the
question is pertinent at the present
time in view of the Le Caron and Pig¬
ott developments.
About six weeks ago he renewed
his attack on the Gael in the Chicago
Citizen, in company with a man nam¬
ed M. O'Gallagher, a recent importa¬
tation from the Irish police, and in the
issue of Mar. 2, over his own signature
he attacks the Gaelic Journal and its
editor, Mr. Fleming, and advises the
people not to buy these journals (the
Gael and the Gaelic Journal) because
their editors are "too proud" to be
instructed by him.
Now, in the name of common sense
and honesty, why do not he and his
pals decide to publish a Gaelic journal,
if they be so solicitous for the welfare
of the language as they pretend to
be, and manage it as they think prop¬
er? Oh, no, that would not serve his
purpose.
Let Irishmen in this in the bottom
of their hats. — There are scores of
English detectives mixed up in Irish
patriotic societies in this country —
they have lots of money to spend, they
assume all characters, from the peddler
to the medical doctor and foment bick¬
ering wherever they can find a follow¬
ing in those societies. These bicker¬
ings are not the work of Irishmen, they
are the work of the enemy. Had we
submitted to T. O. R. all would be right
with us, but that submission should
necessitate the handing over the con¬
trol of the Gael to him. We would see
him in the bottom of —
Now, whether T. O. R. be an English
spy, like LeCaron, or not, he is trying
to do the work of Le Carons employ¬
ers; of course he will scorn to do any¬
thing of the kind — so would Le Caron.
Miss Walshe of St. Paul, Dead.
We take the following binary notice from the
United Irishman, and we sympathize with our
brother Gael, Mr. J. Kyne, for the sorrow which
it brings to his family and friends —
Miss Mary Louise Walshe, of St. Paul Minn.,
was buried in Calvary Cemetery, New York, some
days ago. She was the daughter of William Walshe
of Dublin, who died at St. Paul twelve years ago.
Her mother's name was Annie McCarthy, of Leigh¬
lin Bridge, Carlow, the sister of Mrs. Gilmartin,
wife of the dry goods merchant of 12 Lispenard st.
New York. Miss Walshe was a cousin to Mrs.
John Kyne, of Brooklyn, to Rev. Peter Vincent
Byrne, President of St. Vincent College Cape
Girardeau Mo., and to the Rev. Wm. Delaney, of
the Jesuit Order of Tullabeg, Dublin. Her fun¬
eral was largely attended; some twenty carriages
being occupied by her immediate relatives — Mr.
Byrne of Syracuse, the Moroneys and O'Connells,
of New York, the Nolans of Weehawken, the fam¬
ilies of John Murray and Michael Kilcoyne, of New
York. Denis Dargan and Edward and William
Mulrooney of New York City, and many others.
The funeral took place from the residence of
James Gilmartin, where she died.
