The Irish standard., 1888-03-10

and O'Leary reached Dublin in Septem-
Der. and the Irish Secrstary, reporting
their appearance to the English Cabinet,
and-"At this moment we are about to
make trial of O'I4eary's sermons and
Parker's rhapsoiles. They may be
both, in their callings, of very great use.
The former. if we can depend on him,
has it in his power to discover to as the
real designs of the Catholics. from
which quarter, after all, the real mis-
chief is to spring.
O'Leary moved to London in the
year 1889. and became chaplain to the
Spanish embassy. He was attached to
St. Patrick's chapel, Sutton street,
Soho square, where his fame as pulpit
orator attracted large congregations.
During his last illness remorse for his
traitorous conduct towards ireland
seszed him. for he more than once ex-
claimed--':Alas, I have betrayed my
poor countryr' He never denied that
he was, towards the end Of his life at
least, in receipt OF pension from the
Government, but said it WAS granted to
him on account OF the effect his writings
had in promoting peace and unanlmity
amongst all classes i'll ireland. He
died st As Great Portland square, Lon.
don, in 1871.
A tablet to bis memory was erected by
hls admirers in st. Patrick's Chapel.
O'LIeary is not, however, buried in
this chapel. He sleeps in the old
churcEl-yard of ST. Fancras, in North
London. It is very ancient burial
ground, and many and interesting are
the historical association clinging to it
and it's old church, Cassell's "Llondon"
says--'' There is q tradition that this
church was the last ope III OF about
london in which Mass was said at the
tirne Of the Reformation. and that this
was the cause of the singular fondness
which old E.oman Catholic families had
for burying their dead i'll the adjoining
churchyard.' No intcrments take
place now in that churchyard. It has
been tsclosed" for many years, and a
large portion Of it encroached on by two
tines OF the Midland Railway system
running from London. The old church
too, externally st least, has lost almost
traces of antiquity owing to several
srestorations" carried out FROM time to
time.
visited the place on fine Sunday
afternoon. Tt lies on ST. Pancras-road,
in the midst Of one Of the nlost thickly
populated d,atricts in North London.
On entering the gateway Of the church
yard, al inscription on q SMALL monu-
mental pillar informed me that the
grounds had been transformed by the
local Vestry into recreation gardens --sa
boon to tbs living and grace to the
deaa"--the object in view being (the IN
scciption adds) s'to make the man the
better citizen. the Q tlzen the better
man. Leaving the chapel. which Is a
small, low, edi6ce, on the left, you pass
over nicely -gravelled walks, through 81
portion of the grounds Frightened with
flowers and bushes, and with seats ''for
talking age and whispering lovers made, .
After short turn to the left, one of
the railway lines which cuts the church.
yard in two looms up in all its hideous-
ness before you. Tie French have a
saying that there is nothing sacred to an
engineer. The old graveyard of ST.
Pancras is striking illustration of its
truth. The graveyard was very extern
sive, and hundreds OF it's graves were,
disturbed and obl,terated by the march
OF civilisation, az represented by the
railway lines. The tolnbstones that
marked the last resting place OF thous-
ands of Irish and French Catholic exiles
are ranged in rows in the huge and
gloomy archwaY under the railway line.
and the sight they present would be
grotesque, were 1t not for their solemn
associations. Passing under the arch
way, you find yourself in another section
of the graveyard, of very large extent
ana bounded By the second line Of rail-
way. Unlike the first portion Of the
burial ground, this is bare and deserted,
devoid of flowers, and trees, and bushes,
and even of grass. The ground is as
hard as / he roadway outside, q few tombs
rise grim and gaunt here and there, and
hundreds more of memorials of the dead
are ranged around its four sides. L was
told that the grave which sought was to
be found here. examined every tomb
on my downward way towards the end Of
the grounds, and at last was attracted to
one on which three little boys were
seated, making mud pies. If there is
nothing sacred to the engineer it can
also be said there is nothing sacred to