Q. With what sort of stones?
A. With Protestant bones.
Q. Do you know your letters?
A. To be sure I do.
Q. Say them.
A. A. G. I. M. (A Great Irish Massacre.)
Q. What is your motto?
A. Once it was L. E. F. (Lord Edward
Fitzgerald); now it is R. O. (Ribbon Order.)
Q. Have you any more?
A. I have.
Q. Whose son are you?
A. Graniawale's.
Q. What height are you?
A. High as Patrick's steeple.
Q. What height is that?
A. Higher than St. Paul's.
Q. Then express the word.
A. Go on, I tell you.
(Give the first finger of the right hand.)
(Give the two first fingers of the left hand.)

The most dreadful portion of this oath is
the part that refers to not allowing father or
mother, sister or brother, to stand between the
member and the duty of carrying out his orders.
There have been instances of a struggle almost
heartrending, where the barbarous office has
been delegated to the betrothed of a young girl
whose father had been marked for slaughter.
The young man was ferociously reminded of his
oath, and cautioned that he had already, by his
simple remonstrance, broken it. He is said to
have lost his reason in the struggle.

Like its model, the Orange lodge, the Ribbon
Society has its unlawful finery. Mankind,
once formed into a society, whether it take
the shape of Oddfellow, Forester, committee-
man of a great exhibition, or steward of a
concert, must have its badge, dress, or decoration.
The Ribbon officer, therefore, has his
green scarf; his collar and belt edged with scarlet,
and embroidered in white with crosses or harps
with seven strings; a large band; and Hibernia
(poor soul!) separated from the crowned harp.

In this way is an unhappy land—"Truly a
fayre and beautiful countrie," said Spenser,—
torn to pieces by her own children. And the
well-known cries of loyalty, order, equality,
toleration, justice, freedom, but, above all,
Religion (in whose name so many enormities
are perpetrated), are prostituted to the bad
passions of these miserable party societies, whose
watchwords are hatred and ill will.

"DEO. OPT. MAX."

ART thou drowsy, dull, indifferent,
Folder of the hands,
Dreaming o'er the silent falling
Of life's measured sands?

Living without aim or motion,
Save thyself to please,
Careless as the beasts that perish,
Sitting at thine ease?

Not for thee the mighty message
Rings in startling tone;
Vainly would its pealing accents
Strike through hearts of stone.

Sounding o'er the clash and clatter
Of this earth's vain din,
Unto you, that live in earnest,
And that work to win,

Thus it speaks: "Aspirants, toilers
For some lofty gain,
See ye spend not strength and spirits,
Hope and faith, in vain!

"All that soars past Self is noble—
Every upward aim—
Make it nobler yet—the noblest!
An immortal fame!

"Let not good or great content ye—
Higher and still higher,
Only for the best, the greatest,
Labour and aspire!

"Spurning all that's partial, doubtful,
All your vigour bend
(Worthiest aim and worthiest effort)
To a perfect end!

"Thus have all true saints before ye,
All true heroes striven,
Reaching for the best, the highest,
Beyond earth to heaven."

GALLEY-SLAVE No. 9999.

"You are going to Toulon!" exclaimed my
neighbour, the avocat, with some surprise.

"I am going there, because I cannot help
passing it, unless I take steamer from Genoa to
Marseilles; which would not be the way to see much
of the country."

"You will perhaps, then, pay a visit to the
Bagne, the only one now existing in France?"

"I shall try; although it must be a painful
sight. But I find no phase of humanity
uninteresting."

"I will give you a letter to a forçat (convict)
there."

"A letter to a galley-slave?"

"Yes. He is a person in whom I take great
interest. It may be as well not to give you any
written communication to the man himself, as it
would put you to the trouble of getting it read
and passed by the prison authorities, and others
perhaps, previous to presentation; but I will
put you in the way of getting at him and speaking
to him. You shall be introduced to one of
his patrons, an adjoint of the mayor."

"But I am already promised an introduction
to the Préfet Maritime."

"Capital! With that backing the one I shall
give you, you will be able to perform an act of
charity. It will be a good deed on your part.
Only put yourself in his place——"

"Much obliged."

"And think how gratified you would feel at
receiving a friendly visit from without."

"Is he one of your clients, this worthy forçat?
One of the innocents whom your potent
eloquence has failed to whitewash?"

"No. I did not defend him, although the
prisoner was well defended."

"And the resulting verdict?"