AN EXILE'S DREAM.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume II, Issue 69, 22 August 1874, Page 13

AN EXILE'S DREAM.

BY JOSEPH BRBNKJN.

1 will go to holy Ireland, Tlie land of saint and sage, Where the pulse of boyhood is leaping In the shrunken form of Age ; Where the shadow of giant hopes For evermore is cast, And the wraiths of mighty chieftains Are looming through the past. From the cold land of the stranger I will take my joyous flight, To sit by my slumbering country, And watch her through the night ; When the Spring is in the sky, And the flowers are on the land, I will go to ancient Ireland, Of the open heart and hand. I will go where the Galtees Are rising bare and high, With their haggard foreheads fronting The scowl of the clouded sky ; I will gaze down on the valleys, And bless the teeming sod,' And commune w ith the mountains — "The Almoners of God ; " I will list (o the murmurous song Which iB rising from the river, Which flows, crooning to the ocean, For ever and for ever: When the May-month is come, When the year is fresh and young, I will go to the home of my fathers — The land of sword and song. I will go where Eillarney Is sleeping in peaceful rest, Unmoved, save when a falling leaf Ripples its placid breast ; Where the branches of oak and arbutus Are waving a pleasant screen, And the sunshine breaks in diamonds Through its tracery of green ; Where the mists, like fantastic spectres Forever rise and foil, And the rainbow'of the Covenant Is spanning the mountains tall. When the wind blows from the West, Across the deep sea, I will sail to my Inmsfail, • To the " Isle of Destiny." I will seize my pilgrim staff, And cheerily wander forth From the smiling face of the South, To the black frown of the North ; Aiid in some hour of twilight I will mount the tall Slieve-Bloom, And weave me a picture-vision In the evening's pleasant gloom j I will call up the buried leaders Of the ancient Celtic race, And gaze with a filial fondness On each sternly noble face The masters of the mind, And the chieftains of the steel, Young Carolan and Grattan, The M'Caura and O'Neill ; T will learn from their voices, With a atudent's love and pride, To live as they lived, And to die as they died. Oh, I will sail from the West, Aud never more will part From the ancient home of my people — The land of the loving heart.

A pedestrian, named Edward Payson Weston/has been attempting to walk 500 miles within six days at the hall of the American Institute, New York, but only succeeded in getting through 430 miles, with drain. 46seo. to spare. As it was obvious that the remaining 70 miles of the distance could not be accomplished in this small margin, Weston prudently gave up the task, and his attempt was, therefore a failure. He succeeded, however, in walking 115 miles in 24 hours, a feat supposed to be unequalled by any other pedestrian. He also buoceeded in exhibiting .wonderful powers of endurance, walking at the rate of five miles an hour during tho last portion of the sixth day of his effort. He unfortunately, on the first day of his long walk, wrinkled the stocking on his loft foot, thus making a very painful sore, which did net add to the comfort of the journey. So great was the crowd on the last day of the attempt, that little could be seen of weston, except as he almost flew by the judge's stand ; but his progress could be told at all times by the cheers and waving of handkerchiefs which followed him round the hall "in one continuous wave of applause." When his physicians decided that he should stop at the 430 th mile, Weeton sank into a chair exhausted, and entirely overcome. Ho was then carried by the police with difficulty through the crowd, and put to bed, -where he immediately fell asleep. The time ke occupied in actually walking the 430 miles was 98h. 28min., the average time per mile 14min 44eec v and the " quickest mile" was one accomplished in 9mm. SOseo.