The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1901-06-01

4
lished writings, Father Prout wrote
the following letter to Gavan Duffy re-
garding him: ..
rs repeal become such a common
utensil that any scamp can make
temporary convenience of it? I am
forced to ask you this rough but honest
question, seeing by the Morning Post
of this day the announcement of per-
son called Kenealy as Repeal candi-
date for Dublin University. The ink
is scarce dry on his fingers since he
wrote for hire in the Dublin University
Magazine the foul words 'dog-faced
demagogue of Internationally allud-
ing to the late pure-souled and gifted
Tom Davis"
From this we can gather that Prout
had a keen appreciation of Davis
merits. and though he did not league
himself with the galaxy of distin.
guished writer's that formed the Ma
TONS staff, he was by no means for
getful of the fact that they were rem
dering eminent services to their coun-
try.
Prout stayed away from his clerical
duties, as / have already remarked.
once he became interested in the So
ciety of the Frazerians. 1t must be
confessed that like Maginn and others
he wandered for time beside the sspit
abyssmal" but unlike him
Gle redeemed it (his souD in days of
darkness
And shapes the signs of the final
wrath
When death in hideous and CHASTITY
starkness
Stood on his path"
He died in Paris in May, 1866, in
communion with the church of his ia
theirs and consoled by the holy sacra-
ments. To his credit, be it said, that
he never uttered one word which could
be construed as showing his hatred to
the papacy. Indeed, the finest apology
ever written in defense of the Jesuits
is his paper entitled Literature and
the Jesuits" among his reliques. His
body was brought home and lies in
tered beneath the Shandon steeple.
the music of whose bells he sang so
sweetly of in the morning of his life.
Pilgrim to the Land of Bohemia, never
forget the memory of that sweet min
strel that sleeps his last sleep beneath
old Shandon's steeple. He loved those
chimes as a boy, and now they sing
over him their paens of sorrow. Fit
ting burial place for him; not in the
overcrowded cemeteries of Paris or
London was it his wish to rest, but
among his own people in the city,
where sleeps the gentle Gerald Crit
fin and that sweet singer Denny Lane,
who died only a few years ago. A.
When Ireland RECEIVERS her pristine
grandeur, when she shall have built
hall of fame to place the busts Of her
bards, among her poets Of the nine
teenth century,-the Fergusons, Davis
es. Moores, Mangans, McCarthys, her
son Francis Sylvester Mahony will
occupy an honored place. The follow
ing lines of the gifted poet, D. F. Nc
earthly, is fitting conclusion to this
little essay:
Those Shandon bells, those Shandon
bells,
Whose deep sad tone now sobs. now
swells,
Who comes to seek this hallowed
ground
And sleep within their sacred sound?
'Tis one who heard these chimes when
young,
And who in age their praises sung,
Within whose breast their music made
A dream Of home whereer he straved.
And oh! if bells have power to-day
To drive all evil things away,
Let doubt be dumb and envy cease
And round his grave reign holy peace.
True love doth love in turn beget
And now these bells repay the debt
Whene'er they sound their music tells
OF him who sang "Sweet Shandon
Bells"
-Duluthian.