There is another error prevalent among the Irish gentry of Milesian blood in Ireland (which is the less to be excused, as they have ample opportunities of correcting it), namely, that the chief or head of the family only was entitled to have the O prefixed to his name. This is the grossest error of all, for there is not a single passage in the authentic annals or genealogical books which even suggests that such a custom ever existed amongst the ancient Irish chieftain families, for it is an indubitable fact that every member of the family had the O prefixed to his surname, as well as the chief himself. But a distinction was made between the chief and the members of his family, in the following manner:--In all official documents the chief used the surname only, as O’Neill, O’Donnell, &c. In conversation also the surname only was used, but the definite article was frequently prefixed, as _the_ O’Neill, _the_ O’Brien, &c., while in annals and other historical documents in which it was found necessary to distinguish a chief from his predecessors or successors, the chief of a family was designated by giving him the family name first, and the christian or baptism name after it in parenthesis. But the different members of the chief’s family had their christian names always prefixed as at the present day. I have thus dwelt upon the errors respecting surnames in Ireland, from an anxious wish that they should be removed, and I trust that it will be believed henceforward that the Mac in Irish surnames is fully as respectable as the O, and that, instead of five, there are at least two thousand Irish families who have _full title_ to have the O prefixed to their surnames. [2] Translation from original Latin MS. * * * * * Many men would have more wisdom if they had less wit. * * * * * Women are like gold, which is tender in proportion to its purity. * * * * * Excessive sensibility is the foppery of modern refinement. IRELAND’S WEALTH. Oh do not call our country poor, Though Commerce shuns her coast; For still the isle hath treasures more Than other lands can boast. She hath glorious hills and mighty streams, With wealth of wave and mine, And fields that pour their riches forth Like Plenty’s chosen shrine. She hath hands that never shrink from toil, And hearts that never yield, Who reap the harvests of the world In corn or battle field. She hath blessings from her far dispersed O’er all the earth and seas, Whose love can never leave her--yet Our land hath more than these. Her’s is the light of genius bright, Among her children still; It shines on all her darkest homes, Or wildest heath and hill. For there the Isle’s immortal lyre Sent forth its mightiest tone; And starry names arose that far On distant ages shone.