between the insurgents and the royalists at Ballinamuck, but the result had not then transpired."

I asked O'Connell whether he admired and sympathised with Arthur O'Connor?

"More no than yes," was his answer. "I had, indeed, admired him until Curran disclosed to me that he had a plan for an agrarian law, dividing the land in equal portions among all the inhabitants. That I saw at once involved consequences so antisocial, that it greatly cooled my admiration of him."

Except from O'Connell I never heard of Arthur O'Connor's plan for the division of land. But if he meant only such a plan as the small allotment system, which Feargus O'Connor is at present working in England, his scheme cannot have involved antisocial results. The small allotments have been for many years a favourite project of Feargus O'Connor's. Perhaps he derived the idea from his uncle. He detailed it to me at Kilcascan so long ago as 1830; and it seems calculated to promote the comfort of the humbler classes, without encroaching upon the interests or rights of the landed aristocracy.

O'Connell continued: "I travelled with Curran in the Cork mail. We were eight and forty hours coming to Dublin in those days. We had six insides and unlimited outsides. The passengers got

out and walked two or three miles on the rising ground" (I think he said Clasheen) "on this side of Clonmel; and it was on that walk that Curran mentioned to me Arthur Arthur O'Connor's agrarian

scheme."

In the course of the conversation I asked him who, in his opinion, was our greatest man?

"Next to myself," he answered, "I think old Harry Grattan was. But he was decidedly wrong in his controversy with Flood about the simple repeal."

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O'Connell described a curious interview that had taken place between him and Owen, the Socialist. "The fellow called upon me," said he, and told me he had come for my co-operation in a work of universal benevolence. I replied that I should always be happy to aid such a work. expected no less from your character, Mr. O'Connell,' said Owen. 'Would not you wish—I am sure you would-to elevate the condition of the whole human race?' Certainly, Mr. Owen,' replied I. 'Would not you wish to see a good hat on every body? Undoubtedly.' And good shoes?' 'Oh, certainly. And good trowsers?' 'Unquestionably.' And would not you desire to see the whole family of man well housed and fed?' 'Doubtless. But Mr. Owen, as my time is much taken up, may

I beg that you will proceed at once to point out how all these desirable objects are, in your opinion, to be worked out? In the first place, Mr. O'Connell,' said Owen, we must educate anew the population of these kingdoms, and entirely remove the crust of superstitious error from their minds. In fact, the whole thing, called Revealed Religion, must be got rid of.' I thought my worthy visitor was going a little too far. I rose and bowed him out. 'I wish you a very good morning, Mr. Owen,' said I, 'it would be useless to prolong our interview. I see at once that you and I cannot co-operate in any work or under any circumstances.'"

CHAPTER VI.

Legislative Riots-The "Collective Wisdom" in a State of Excitement-Peel's Opinion of O'Connell as a Debater.

In order to appreciate O'Connell's success in the English Parliament, we should consider the species of hostility he was constantly obliged to encounter. Envenomed personal hatred was the manifest source of much of the opposition directed against him. In 1839, he stated, what every body knew, namely, that certain election committees were partial and dishonest. Thereupon Lord Maidstone moved, "That Mr. O'Connell should be reprimanded." The motion was carried; and the reprimand accordingly was pronounced from the chair, and was laughed at by all rational men, as a specimen of the fantastic folly into which a strong feeling of personal spite could betray a parliamentary majority. In fact, the "reprimand" afforded a species of triumph to the intended victim, by giving him a

fresh opportunity of reiterating all his charges, without one word of retractation or apology.

But, perhaps, the most curious legislative riot upon record, was that which occurred on the introduction of Lord Stanley's bill for the annihilation of the Irish popular franchise. Whenever a disturbance ruffles the surface of an Irish Repeal, or other public meeting (and such an occurrence is unusual), the sages of the English press pounce with avidity on the event as a proof of our unfitness for self-government. Perhaps, in their estimation, the remarkable parliamentary demélé alluded to illustrates the capacity of English gentlemen to legislate for Ireland.

O'Connell had committed the offence of calling Lord Stanley's bill "a bill to trample on the rights of Ireland." For this offence he was furiously assailed with a storm of shouting, yelling, hooting, and whistling. He applied the term "beastly bellowing" to the hurricane of discordant noises made by the Collective Wisdom. The Collective Wisdom was highly displeased at this uncourteous designation of its utterances; and a scene of tumultuous wrangling ensued, during a great part of which it was perfectly impossible to distinguish an articulate sentence. Lord Maidstone and Sir Stratford Canning were particularly prominent in this