_Rev. J. Havergal Sheppard, D. D.:_ Mr. President-General, Ladies and Gentlemen, Honored Guests and Fellow Members of the American Irish Historical Society: I esteem it a very great honor that you have conferred upon me tonight in asking me to speak at this, your annual gathering. I must confess that I feel somewhat embarrassed in facing such a body of distinguished Irishmen and their friends. It has not often been my lot to meet so many “Sons of the Ould Sod” or those whose Sires settled on these shores in the passing years as it is tonight. Nevertheless I am proud to be one of you on this occasion; in fact, I feel like a fellow countryman of mine, who was in the company of an Englishman and a Scotchman. They were complimenting each other, when the Englishman asked the Scotchman if he were not a Scotchman what would he be, and he answered, an Englishman. Then the Scotchman, not to be outdone, asked the Englishman if he was not an Englishman what he would be, and, of course, he answered a Scotchman. Then they turned to Pat, who had been listening to their expressions of friendship, and they asked him, “Pat, if you were not an Irishman, what would you be?” And he, in turn, in true Celtic fashion, answered, “If I was not an Irishman I would be ashamed of myself.” So if I was not an Irishman, after this gathering and greeting and what the Irish have done for this country, I would be ashamed of myself. An old philosopher once said, “Let us give the past to oblivion, the present to duty, the future to Providence,” and I am sure we agree with him in two of his propositions, but we differ with his first. We are willing to give the present to duty and trust the future to Providence, but never give the past to oblivion; not until, at least, every true American knows the Irish chapter in American history. And it is such a body as this that will hasten that glad day for the Irish race, when men will know that we have as much right to these shores as any race that ever landed here. That starry flag, with its red for love and its white for law and its blue for the hope that our fathers saw in a larger liberty, has been consecrated with the blood of the liberty-loving sons of the sod. There has never been a battle for right against wrong but “That rascal, Pat,” has been to the front, not only to fight as a private soldier, but to often lead the van as a commanding officer. We find him on the bench and at the bar pleading as an able lawyer; before the altar or in the pulpit, performing the sacred duties of religion. In fact, wherever you go or whatever profession or trade you enter you will find “That Rascal, Pat.” They are no newcomers to these shores, for shortly after that memorable landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth Rock they made their way across the trackless main for this new land.