I assume that you have seen the notices printed in Rochester and other newspapers immediately following his decease. I regret that I can add but little to those eulogies, which were, I have reason to believe, written by intimate associates and came from the heart. I thought that less was said by his recent friends about his interest in Ireland and her cause than deserves to be known. And on that point I can testify from acquaintance with him that few things were nearer or dearer to him than the land of his ancestors. His pen and voice were ever ready to work in the cause of Ireland, and I have no doubt that his personal fortunes, in the ordinary commercial sense, suffered from the persistence with which, all through life, he continued to bring to the attention of an indifferent public the wrongs inflicted on the people of the island. It was, however, a labor of love with him, and his zeal in the cause continued to the end. He had no confidence in secret societies effecting any great good in Irish politics; but he gave hearty support to the Land League in Parnell’s day. He was a delegate to the famous Land League convention of 1886 in Chicago, and was urged by friends to let them propose him for President of the American branch of the Society. He has been heard to say that he was indebted to the Land League for the experience which enabled him in later years to feel at home on his feet while engaged in public speaking on other subjects. His regard for Ireland could not have been stronger had he been a native of the land, and it was evidently inherited. Years ago he heard a friend humming “As Slow Our Ship Her Foamy Track,” and said that when his father was leaving Ireland a group gathered about him on the deck of the ship as he sung that song, and before it was finished they were all in tears. Although usually slow to anger, he was liable to be moved on hearing the creditable deeds of plain Irishmen ascribed, as they are so often, to the “Scotch-Irish,”—a designation which he detested, employed as it usually is to detract from Ireland the reflected honor to which she is entitled from the worthy fame of her children. If the nature and scope of the work which you have in hand permits of eulogy, it would be impossible to speak too highly of O’Connor’s character. In both public and private life he was the soul of honor. His talents were of the first order and always exerted toward good ends. His integrity was unbounding. Like Gay his “manners were gentle, his affections mild.” In a word he was a really great and uncommonly good citizen, a true and noble man. One of his favorite poets was Goldsmith and I cannot better end this too brief sketch than with what the author of “The Deserted Village” said of Reynolds:— To tell you my mind. He has not left a greater or better behind.