The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1893-04-15

AsAaA
come from loving nature His COM
panion was Father McDonagh, then on
the staff of the "Irish Catholic" now
whiting away his health and rare gifts
in the daily drudgery OF the London Ex-
press. The career of his companion had
been one of activity and excitement.
Like true inhabitant of Cosmopolis he
was at home in the capitals Of many lands.
In Paris he talked of future Irish
Republic with Stevens or Tevis Carol,
slipped his wine and ate his hard baked
bun ct the Irish tavern in the Rue Royal
near the Madelsine, the favorite haunt
of the Donovans, Sheas and other we'll
known sons of Bohemia. In Lausanne he
wandered around the charming lake,
made famous by the fst, short English
man, who wrote the decline and fall of
the Roman Empire to fill a gap in the
worlds history. In Rome he WIS inter-
ested in the church made famous to his
eountrymen by the ill-rew arded labors
of his friend Father Mehan. To his
mind it was rare luck that gave him the
knowledge of how Shandon Bells was
written by Prout. With "a merry twinkle
of the eye, that self.satisfying expression
of having good thing to say, he would
tell how the young Prout, in the old
Irish College, after more than ordinary
dinner, lay down to take his
siesta. Stomach plays leading part in
the drama siesta. On this particular
afternoon, like many of cur modern
players, Mr.. s. felt slightly indisposed,
and as consequence the drama was
postponed. To fill the siesta time Prout
composed his Shandon Bells and wrote
it on the wall above his bed. Like
many another production destined to
live, it was the work of few moments,
while the patient labors Of years, hardly
survives the toiler, who reads now a. days
the far fetched wit of Prout, or marvels
at his Unbalanced scholarship. That
careless snatch of melody, the effect of a
good dinner, will alone save him from
literary death. It is not the reliques, but
Shandon Bells that takes many traye-
ler to the little Shandon Churchyard to
Mark where beneath thy verdant sod be
deep, unurn'd,
The bones of PrOut.
Davis found enjoyment in Cordiettis
where few of the exiled air their opin-
ions on all sorts of things and on all con-
ditions of men. There dine Baumgart-
ner, the Cahenslyite envoy, and wri-
ter for small German weekly. ready to
show his ignorance on every subject con-
nected with America, full of chit-chat
and Amiability, willing cicerone to the
lady globe-trotting American. There
sits his friend Heating of the Catholic
Times, q genial sunny man, whose opin-
ion spasmodic Stead considered worth
paying for in his Pail Mali. Opposite q
talkative woman, writer of "Roman
News" the most imaginative occupation
connected with the press. On her right
sits Comedian he, of the Italian, in the
mellow Munster brogue, full of anecdotes
and contradictions. Woe to the Vatican
if she took step without consulting
this irascible Irishman. Near to him
sits the scholarly Roche, q man to vast
erudition, but with the simplicity of a
child, and heart soft as woman. Dayis
has recorded his pleasure in this society.
It was truly cosmopolis, with it's queer
but enticing wits, such wanderings amid
such scenes, to nature like Davis could
only confirm his adhesion to his first love
Literature, love that he had contrived
to WOO under many difficulties, as may
be cleaned from the meagre sketch Of
his life that follows.
Eugene Davis was born thirty-elght
years ago in the County Cork, at an easy
distance from the birthplace of his great
name sake. He came of q family literary
in it's instincts. His half brother was
the well known Father Davis of Balti-
more, whose philanthropical labors on
behalf of Irish fishermen have given
him world renown. This good man
edited the American edition of the "Ser-
mons end Lectures" of his friend Rev. M.
Buckley, besides now and then cultivat-
ing the muse Of Ia Praed. Eugene was
sent to school at an early age, the desire
of his people that at some distant day he
would follow his brothers footsteps and
become an honored clergyman in his
Church. The usual preparatory studies
finished, Davis crossed the channel to
study philosophy and theology in the
great school Of Olier, Saint Sulpioe. The
whisperings of want of vocation that
had now and then haunted him in Ire
land took shape in st. Sulpice. He was
not called and he knew the penalty Of
those who enter the sanctuary unasked.
He followed the only course left an hon.
est man, and bade adieu to st. Snlpice.
His bread struggle at this period, would