The Irish republic. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1867-18??, 1867-06-01


reduction of the population is done the system
Of drainage. A river has been damned until the
waters rise to certain level, above which deyasta-
ton would ensue The safety lies in opening suices
to draw off the surplus water.
The people of Ireland, when able to exist at
home commence to swell like mighty river, until
the Government feel that further rise will over
whem them; and they then set their agents at
work to open the suces of determination, emigra-
ton, starvation and all the other safety valves, full
supply Of which the most enlightened nation on The
earth has always on hand.
The landlord above mentioned finds out that
cattle are more profitable than his tenant far
safer as they are never known to demand the right
to live as some mere Irish tenants have the hardi
hood to do-turns our farmer and his family out Of
the land that belonged to said farmer and his
cestors "since the food, "-sets fire to his cabin
roof umbles in it's wallis and retires to his Great
House, needless whether Paddy and family die by
the roadside, or die in the poorhouse. Well
our farmer friend has saved enough probably-for
not more than one-half can save enough to come to
this promised land-to pay his passage to America.
He comes over in the Storage OF some floating
coffin and if cholera, or ship fever, has not given
any of his folks to the sharks they land at Castle
Garden with light hearts and lighter pockets He
is in a strange land without money; but no NATTER
he is in the land of freedom, and he has friends in
America sonaeeohere. All if some kind hand would
only welcome him now, and direct and protect him,
what an immense amount of misery would be saved
him and his family, instead of becoming sores in
the body polite, would become blessings to himself
and to his adopted country.
Not having means enough to move west he is led
into Baxter Mott streets, New York City-by
some countryman of course. He can get one room
in a cellar or garret-there is no medium for him
and his kind friend will take couple of feather
beds for months rent. He has family of four
beautiful, modest simple, country girls; and three
boys just growing up to be rafting gorsoons.
He is now in just the locality to bring up virtuous
daughters and manly sons.
He is Mortified, at first, at The depravity that
rounds him all sides but what he do?
Oh! if even now some saviour would arrive, and
carry him and his budding flowers away from this
pent-up charnel house, where nothing but vice can
flourish, out into the green fields and pure air Of
the country for which he is alone suited?
His daughters become walters in some painted
palace on the Bowery Broadway: and his sons
backing boots, selling papers, stealing junk
Very the poor parents begin to accept vice as
their inevitable lot, and, to kill remembrance of
virtuous days, take to the bottle.
. From the boot-back, or junk stealer to the
hardened burglar, or bully is an easy and newt
ably slide for the gorsoons; from the Concert
saloons on the Bowery to the lowest den in the
lthiest street round the Five Points, is the path for
our once blushing country girls; and to drunk
ards graves go the parents.
Rattle their bones the stones,
They're but Irish whom nobody owns"
How many thousands of the virtuous daughters
of Ireland that led from the ship to the dens of