ments of men of his class. They cannot stop if they would; they would not if they could. Why it is, no man can determine; and we can only believe that God in his infinite wisdom has designed that every man must work out his destiny with the ability and with the impetus which he finds in his soul.
John Boyle O'Reilly was one of those rare, ambitious, active, industrious, zealous, enthusiastic men who had a great deal of work to do in this world. He forged ahead at a pace which seemed to indicate that he realized that he was not to have a long life in which to accomplish it. We say that he died under fifty. When we consider how he worked for his native land, how he toiled in journalism and in literature, how he upheld his church, and how much time and labor he spent in helping the thousands who came across his path, do we not know that he performed the work which many an able man could not have accomplished in threescore years and ten? We all realize it without the necessity of an argument. We know also that few men have done so much in the seventy years which mark the orthodox limits of human endeavor, as he performed in his brief existence, and thus fulfilled his destiny.
John Boyle O'Reilly's faults were few, his virtues many. He did his work fearlessly and brilliantly. He did it, too, with a conspicuous ability which was seen and appreciated by men of all classes and men of all creeds. He has gone from among us, but he has
