While I am on this subject, permit me to digress for a moment, to speak of a thing which is, perhaps, outside the range of this paper, and that is the insensible, subtle change that I believe the Irish have wrought in our Eastern section in the voice and accent of the descendants of the first settlers. The sharp nasal tone, so common half a century ago, has almost entirely disappeared in the cities and is fast disappearing in the country. This is probably due in great measure to the fact that most of the immigrant Irish brought with them the rich, rare brogue of their fatherland, and the others the cultivated voice of the educated Irishman, both full of music and “sweet as the dying note of a broken harp string”—a music, whose soft, pervasive tones have added an indescribable charm to the spoken word that the stern hills of New England rarely knew, but which in time they have felt the touch of. Today it is difficult to tell the origin of the speaker, whether he be a tenth generation Puritan or a second generation Irish, in communities where the latter abound. The scope of this paper is general and not personal, and for that reason I have not gone through the gamut of names of Irish origin whose owners merited well of the country. Their fame is secure and permanent—and while in some instances overshadowed and lost sight of through the neglect, or let us call it the caprice, of the historian—it is safe. Its single purpose has been to fathom the causes of the total or partial eclipse of a great body of people whose achievements entitle them to shine among the greater or lesser luminaries of this Republic, if not among the greatest. To repair the injustice and the cruel omissions of history, is a noble mission and as patriotic as any that ever moved men to deeds of valor and sacrifice. It is not for us to keep alive the memory of those who have their place in the imperishable annals of our country—but it is for us to rescue from oblivion the men that lived and worked and wrought, whom historical writers by accident, indifference or design, have ignored in their researches, or buried in a foot note at the bottom of a page. If we do this, we do not come together in vain. PRESIDENT-GENERAL QUINLAN: This “squib” appeared in last night’s paper, and was handed to me this afternoon: “The man who writes a poem does so under reasonably safe conditions. Nothing more dangerous than a bean-blower is apt to be used against him; lemons and vegetables may come his way, but this is the worst, save the scorn of the critics. But the McDonalds and McAdoos lived in the underground; they met irate landlords and the general ‘cussedness’ of inanimate things, all with smiling patience and invincible courage.”