The best idea that came of the work of the Irish committees was that of a concert of Irish music. It was brought forward by Jeremiah Lawlor, of the Ancient Order of Hibernians, and ardently worked for by him. Once presented to the Hudson-Fulton Commission it was given a place on the official programme. Fortunately Victor Herbert, the distinguished operatic composer and orchestra leader, was at hand, and instantly accepted the concert committee’s invitation to take charge of the programme. It involved some sacrifice on his part but he gladly made it, and the success of the result must certainly have compensated him. It was in the springtime, too, that another Irish feature of the celebration was arranged, the chartering of the splendid Sandy Hook steamer, Asbury Park, for the naval parade up the Hudson River. The American-Irish Historical Society and the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick coöperated in this—at a cost of $5,000 for the use of the steamer for that single day. RECEPTION OF THE HALF MOON AND CLERMONT. The last week in September is apt to be blessed with fine, mild weather in New York, and this time it held good. No more beautiful day could be wished than Saturday, September 25, 1909, when the banks of the Hudson River for ten miles from its mouth became the vantage ground for many more than a million sightseers, with the great stream itself a Broadway of the water over which the floating procession was to pass. Toward the City shore the long line of the gathered warships stretched adrape with gay bunting. Behind the water-front packed with human beings from the Battery Park to Grant’s tomb and beyond, rose the great mass of the city, its lifted turrets and spires and its soaring buildings forming a majestic background. Power spoke in every line and mass that met the eye, and beauty of a kind seldom seen gave its impress of delight. Down the harbor, the fleet of steamers was gathering in its hundreds, every craft from great Hudson River and Sound steamers and private yachts to squadron upon squadron of tugs. All were flag-draped and all were laden with joy-bound participants. The Brooklyn shore down to Fort Hamilton at the Narrows, and the heights and shore of Staten Island from Fort Wadsworth curving around the harbor were black with human beings. Hard by the Kill von Kull lay the Half Moon and the Clermont, the one a quaint, picturesque ghost of the great days of adventure of the early seventeenth century, the other in its long square ugliness a reminder that adventure with steam power in a new element was concerned with fitness and not with beauty; that Fulton was thinking of the turning of his ridiculous paddle wheels rather than the looks of things. And on the Dutch craft stood a make-believe Henry Hudson with a Dutch crew clad in the sea-dogs’ garments of his time. What a dim, pathetic figure that real Hudson of whom here was the twentieth century shadow. He must have