“You know that the tide of immigration turned to this country in the last century. Irish people haven’t always been immigrants. Nine hundred years before Columbus set sail from Palos, Spain, a bishop of the old faith named Brendan left his home in Galway, sailed over the sea, visited Iceland and Greenland, and there are today evidences of this man’s presence in Delaware and Virginia—nine hundred years before Columbus set foot on this continent. Even in the very crew which made up the contingent in Columbus’ navy which manned the three ships there was one to whom, when Columbus left, he gave the custody of one of those ships, and this man’s record proves he was an Irishman, William Ayer of Galway. We have historical facts; they cannot be gainsaid; they stand out in bas-relief today; the story is plain and intelligent men accept it. “Immigration! Do you know that as the years have gone by they have witnessed immigration from many lands? Germany has furnished us with some of the best bone and sinew of its country. England, through her unwise laws, through her erring principles of justice, exacted from the Irish people something that they would not give—taxation without representation, and surrender of civic and religious liberty. Deprived of everything that men in common hold dear, deprived of education, of religious worship, they were driven from the shores of Ireland and found the arms of Columbia extended and ready to receive them as children. We came here, and we thank England for sending us here. If it hadn’t been for the conditions of a hundred and fifty years ago, we might be toiling there today. It is a wise Providence that directs and overrules conditions. We came, and this asylum was beautiful, the flag of freedom and union waved for us, everything was lovely compared with what we had left behind. Friends and kindred, religion and society grew up within our own experiences. The warm heart of the Irishman broadened; he grew, and when the country rang out the alarm, when the country announced that it was menaced with danger, in that Irish boy’s ears rang the traditions and the wrongs of ages. He buckled on his belt; he took down the flintlock from the wall; he marched forward anywhere, everywhere, under the command of Washington and Sullivan,—Washington, the ideal, and Sullivan, the son of an Irish exile. These were the traits exhibited. “‘Theirs not to reason why—not to make reply—but to do and die.’ These men made it possible for you and for me to live to enjoy the conditions of today, to be here in this temple of local pride.