The most typical Irishman of pioneer times was Andrew Jackson, our seventh president. One secret of his greatness lay in the fact that there were many men of his mold and nationality in every American community. It is a fact that should cause every Irish heart to beat with pride that the first American president who rose from the rank and file, without the prestige of aristocratic birth or the polish of education, was the son of a rack-rented exile from Ulster. It may even be true that he was the first in the world’s history to climb so high, not by force of arms, but by the free choice of a free people. “Old Hickory,” as his soldiers called him, has had no superiors as a popular leader. None of his enemies, and he made many of them, could question his honesty, his sincerity, his courage. He believed that the duty of a government was to protect the weak, curb the strong, and obey public opinion. During his presidency the United States bounded into industrial greatness and international prestige. Overlapping Jackson came another typical Irishman, equally great in peace and war—Gen. James Shields. This remarkable man climbed to fame by half a dozen various paths. He was the hero of two wars, a judge of the Illinois Supreme Court, a governor of Oregon, and the only American who has had the honor of representing three states in the United States Senate. Like Jackson, he was gentle and chivalrous in private life, and an incarnate fury on the field of battle. His whole career was one of romantic knight errantry and adventure. He was a wit and a maker of epigrams. One of his happiest replies was on one occasion when he was asked to name his greatest victory. “My greatest victory,” he answered quickly, “was won on the day when my sweetheart, Mary Carr, said ‘Yes.’” After the terrible famine caused by the failure of the potato crop in 1845 and the following years, the Irish poured into America in mighty hosts. Since that time more than four millions have arrived here, ready with Celtic buoyancy for the battle of life in a new land, and yet almost heart-broken to leave the green fields of their fathers. “Is it hard to die, Barney?” asked a friend of a dying Irishman. “It is,” replied Barney; “but not so hard as it was to leave Ireland.” But they went to work with a laugh and an “Irish hurrah.” Whether they knew it or not, they had arrived when they were most needed. The era of railroads and steamships had begun. Great cities were being built and being rebuilt. The factory system was being established in New England. The iron and steel trade had secured a solid foothold. And so, while the Irish had nothing to offer at first but labor, labor was what the United States was most urgently in need of at that stage of its development.