Pacific Coast, he telegraphed to the writer from San Francisco for news of the sick lad. It was one of those little things which, somehow, find lodgment only in big hearts. Dan survived his chief but one week; the strong, lusty man died, after all, before his frail protégé.
In this year, 1877, O'Reilly was called upon to write an obituary notice of another great journalist, Samuel Bowles, founder and editor of the Springfield Republican. His eulogy of the dead editor may be fitly applied to himself, even as his warning against overwork is sadly prophetic of his own fate:
Writing in the last month of the year 1890, it is not hard to understand the pain and chagrin with which Irish patriots, thirteen years ago, confessed the utter failure of Isaac Butt's parliamentary efforts to secure Home Rule for his country. But the inefficient leader was supplanted and a new one chosen, and Ireland—God help her!—saw another dawn breaking in the east. Mr. Butt was hopelessly amiable:
"Whenever a motion trenching on Irish nationality was brought forward," wrote O'Reilly, "it was beaten with nothing short of contumely. Still not a severe word from