strength that overcomes all difficulties or bends them subservient to him. It is his wisdom—It is the Opposite to that trusting to others, or to chance;—to that kismet which is the refuge of the weak man—ever ending in his ruin. Its exercise saves from unlooked for disappointments, and from rushing head long, at first sight, into things that in themselves, may seen even good, without first well weighing the after effects.
As a people, it is said that the Irish are deficient in the great quality—that we are people of more heart than head. Such is the hackneyed charge continually brought against us, spite of many bright examples of which we can point of Irishmen whose careers are the best contradiction of this libel. The limits of our journal will not permit us to enter in detail into a disproval of the charge; but what is(illegible text) whole sheets of such matter, each and every one amongst us, as Irishmen, whose proud privilege it is to represent our people amongst strangers, can, by our exercise of this forethought in the future affairs of our life, more eloquently prove that, both individually and as a people, we are not inferior to any nation, in this or any other great quality.
From our present prison life will radiate our futures. If we take with us forethought, it will assume our success, however widely we may disperse; and let us ever remember that our individual success in life will conduce to the greatness of our nation and our race.
"What are the wild Waves saying."
Let us avaw for a season from the monotonous routine of very day life, and roam o’er the glorious fields of imagination. Let us bury for a moment the trouble and trials of the present, and as the mind wanders far away in unchecked freedom, we will listen to and unravel the mystic words that are being spoken around us by the impressive forces of nature. Mighty tones are they, indeed; and we will find that they tell of mighty things. Every breeze that sweeps over the ocean’s breast is fraught with hidden meaning, and every wave that breaks along our vessels side, will speak to us words of strength and import. Let us watch them as they heave and roll around us—listen to them as they whisper to each other in the soft low tones of their Curling Crests—see what a depth of quiet strength lies buried in the heaving swells as they rise and fall and roll along. Now loud, bold, and powerful as the roar of lions is the voice of the mighty ocean, as its billowy mountains sweep past,—now soft and low as the murmuring of lovers are the whisperings of its foam-tipped waves. The are speaking to us all,—and though hearts, and feelings, and positions may be widely diversified, still there is a voice in the waves for everyone, and, whether thundering along resistless grandeur, or murmuring in gently flowing ripples, those voices are speaking to us of wisdom, and hoe and holy things. "Be strong, be strong," they say to the weak; "Be strong and heed not the powers of fortune. Storms and tempests last not forever. The waves of adversity will in time calm down, and the ocean of life will be purer, happier and better for their violent commotion." Be cheerful," they say to the drooping one; bear your (illegible text) with a light heart and a smiling face," and the light spray dashes up from the wave into the sunshine with a merry joyous sparkle. Be wise, be wise," they say to the unwary; "Silent and wise," and the whispering curl dies away from the wave, the surface of the deep is unbroken, and it slowly heaves in deep and solemn silence. "Be humble," they say to the proud one, "Be lowly in thy
