of poverty and struggle: of empty dreams and futile hopes. It passed before him now as a panorama. There was the doctor's house where his father hurried the night he was born. How

us through life. He watched his conqueror, he remembered for years. He had but one ambition in those days-to gain sufficient strength to wipe out that disgrace. He trained his muscles, He ran on the roads at early morning until his breathing was good. He made friends with an English soldier stationed in the town, by doing him some slight service. The man had learned boxing in London and could beat any one in his regiment. O'Connell asked the man t

imed punch on that youth's jaw

low of the first fight when, weak and uns

uinlan," cried O'Connell, as he closed that youth's ri

, who, nothing daunted, ran into a series of jabs and swings that completely dazed him and forced him to clinch to save further damage. But the

'beggar-man's' son

," from t

true. Quinlan had thrashed them all, and here was the apparently weakest of them-white-faced O'Con

houted, as they crowde

ips and tasted the salt on his tongue. It maddened him. He staggered up and rushed with all his force against O'Connell, who stepped as

e same any that sez a w

oy said

at day, and "Fighting O'Connell" he was

nd told her how he came by them, she cried again as she did

r to doo

nodded, some said nothing, others agreed volubly.

and in which his mother died, had stood. It had long since been pulled down for improvements. Not a sign to mark the tomb of his youth. It was here th

stood grown to manhood. He needed just that reminder to sti

was dying ou

slavery to wipe out. A "Young Ireland" that demanded to be heard: that meant to act: that would fight step by step in the march to Westminster to compel recognition of t

ath and muttered thro

y. Forward!" and he turned