The Winter of 1846-7, and succeeding Spring, were employed in a series of utterly unavailing attempts to use the “Labor-rate Act,” so as to afford some sensible relief to the famishing people. Sessions were held, as provided by the Act, and the landed proprietors liberally imposed rates to repay such government advances as they thought needful: but the unintelligible directions constantly interrupted them, and, in the meantime, the peasantry, in the wild, blind hope of public relief, were abandoning their farms and letting the land lie idle. For this I shall give a few authorities out of the mouth of the Conservative or British party. From Limerick we learn, through the Dublin Evening Mail: –  

“There is not a labourer employed in the county, except on public works; and there is every prospect of the lands remaining untilled and unsown for the next year.” 

In Cork, writes the Cork Constitution: –  

“The good intentions of the government are frustrated by the worst regulations – regulations which, diverting labour from its legitimate channels, left the fields without hands to prepare them for the harvest.” 

At a Presentment Session in Shanagolden, after a hopeless discussion as to what possible meaning could be latent in the Castle “instructions,” and “supplemental instructions,” the Knight of Glin, a landlord of those parts, said that, “While on the subject of mistakes,” he might as well mention –  

“On the Glin road some people are filling up the original cutting of a hill with the stuff they had taken out of it. That’s another slice out of our £450.”

Which he, poor knight, and the other proprietors of that barony had to pay. For you must bear in mind that all the advances under this act were to be strictly loans, repayable by the rates, secured by the whole value of the land and’ at higher interest than the government borrowed the money so advanced. 

The innocent Knight of Glin ascribed the perversions of labour to “mistake.” But there was no mistake at all Digging holes and filling them up again was precisely the kind of work prescribed in such case by the principles of political economy; and then there were innumerable regulations to be attended to before even this kind of work could be given. The Board of Works would have the roads torn up with such tools as they approved of, and none other – that is, with picks and short shovels: and picks and short shovels were manufactured in England, and sent over by ship loads for that purpose, to the great profit of the hardware merchants in Birmingham.  

Often there was no adequate supply of these on the spot: then the work was to be task-work; and the poor people, delving macadamized roads with spades and turf-cutters, could not earn as much as would keep them alive, though, luckily, they were there by disabled from destroying so much good road. 

That all interests in the country were swiftly rushing to ruin was apparent to all. A committee of lords and gentlemen was formed, called a “Reproductive Committee,” to urge upon the government, that, if the country was to tax itself to supply public work, the labour ought, in some cases, at least, to be employed upon tasks that might be of use. This movement was so far successful that it elicited a Letter from the Castle, authorizing such application, but with supplemental instructions so intricate and occult that this also was fruitless. 

And the people perished more rapidly than ever. The famine of ’47 was far more terrible and universal than that of the previous year. The Whig Government, bound by political economy, absolutely refused to interfere with market-prices, and the merchants and speculators were never so busy on both sides of the Channel. In this year it was that the Irish Famine began to be a world’s wonder; and men’s hearts were moved in the uttermost ends of the earth by the recital of its horrors.  

The London Illustrated, News began to be adorned with engravings of tottering, windowless hovels, in Skibbereen and elsewhere, with naked wretches dying on a truss of wet straw; and the constant language of English Ministers and Members in Parliament created the impression abroad that Ireland was in need of alms, and nothing but alms: whereas Irishmen themselves uniformly protested that what they required was Repeal of the Union, so that the English might cease to devour their substance. 

It may be interesting to you to know how the English people were fairing all this while; and whether “that portion of the United Kingdom”, as it is called suffered much by the famine in Ireland and in Europe. Authentic data upon this point are to be found in the financial statement of Sir Charles Wood, Chancellor of the Exchequer, in February, 1847.  

In that statement he declares – and he tells it, he says, with great satisfaction that “the English people and working classes” are steadily growing more comfortable, nay, more luxurious in their style of living. He goes into particulars even to show how rapidly a taste for good things spreads amongst English laborers, and bids his hearers “recollect that consumption could not be accounted for by attributing it to the higher and wealthier classes, but must have arisen from the consumption of the large body of the people and the working classes.” 

And what do you think constituted the regimen of the “body of the people and working classes” in that part of the world? And in what proportion had its consumption increased? Why, in the matter of coffee, they had used nearly seven million pounds of it more than they did in 1843; of butter and cheese they devoured double as much within the year as they had done three years before within the same period. “I will next,” says the Chancellor of the Exchequer, “take currants,” (for currants are one of the necessaries of life to an English labourer, who must have his pudding on Sunday at least;) and we find that the quantity of currants vised by the “body of the people and working classes” had increased in three years from 254,000 cwt. to 359,000 cwt., by the year. Omitting other things, we come to the Chancellor’s statement, that since 1843 the consumption of tea had increased by 5,400,000 Ibs. It is unnecessary to say they had as much beef and bacon as they could eat, and bread a discretion; – and as for beer! –  

So they live in merry England. 

This statement was read by Sir Charles Wood at the end of a long speech, in which he announced the necessity of raising an additional loan to keep life in some of the surviving Irish; and he read it expressly in order “to dispel some portion of the gloom which had been cast over the minds of members,” by being told that a portion of the surplus revenue must go to pay interest on a slight addition to the national debt. And the gloom was dispelled; and honourable members comforted themselves with the reflection that, whatever be the nominal debt of the country, after all, a man of the working classes can ask no more than a good dinner every day, and a pudding on Sundays. 

One would not grudge the English labourer his dinner, nor his tea; and I refer to his excellent table only to remark that during those same three years, exactly as fast as the English people and working classes advanced to luxury, the Irish people and working classes sank to starvation: and further, that the Irish people were still sowing and reaping what they of the sister island so contentedly devoured, to the value of at least £17,000,000 sterling. 

As an English farmer, artisan, or labourer began to insist on tea in the morning as well as in the evening, an Irish farmer, artisan or labourer, found it necessary to live on one meal a day. For every Englishman who added to his domestic expenditure by a pudding thrice a week, an Irishman had to retrench his to cabbage-leaves and turnip-tops. As dyspepsia creeps into England, dysentery ravages Ireland; “and the exact correlative of a Sunday dinner in England is a coroner’s inquest in Ireland.” 

Ireland, however, was to have “alms.” The English would not see their useful drudges perish at their very door for want of a trifle of alms. So the Ministry announced, in this month of February, a new loan of ten millions, to be used from time to time for relief of Irish Famine – the half of the advances to be repaid by rates – the other half to be a grant from the Treasury to feed able bodied paupers for doing useless work or no work at all. As to this latter half of the ten millions, English newspapers and members and Parliament said that it was so much English money granted to Ireland.  

This, of course, was a falsehood. It was a loan raised by the Imperial Treasury, on a mortgage of the taxation of the three kingdoms: the principal of it, like the rest of the “National debt,” was not intended to be ever repaid, and never can be; and as for the interest, Ireland would have to pay her proportion of it, as a matter of course. 

This last Act was the third of the “Relief measures” contrived by the British Parliament, and the most destructive of all. It was to be put in operation as a system of outdoor relief; and the various local boards of Poor Law Guardians, if they could only understand the documents, were to have some apparent part in its administration; but all, as usual, under the absolute control of the Poor Law Commissioners, and of a new Board, namely: Sir John Burgoyne, an Engineer; Sir Randolph Routh, Commissary-General; Mr. Twisleton, a Poor Law Commissioner; two Colonels, called Jones and M’Gregor, Police-Inspectors; and Mr. Redington, Under-Secretary. 

In the administration of this system there were to be many thousands of officials, great and small. The largest salaries were for Englishmen; but the smaller were held up as an object of ambition to Irishmen; and it is very humiliating to remember what eager and greedy multitudes were always canvassing and petitioning for these.  

In March, Lord John Russell announced in Parliament that, in view of the judgements afflicting her dominions, “Her Majesty had been graciously pleased to appoint a day of national fast and humiliation!” It needed no appointment of a day to make the Irish fast; and as for the English, the reader may wonder what they should fast for. But all this was to make an impression abroad. 

In the new Act for the Out-door Relief, there was one significant clause. It was that if any farmer who held land should be forced to apply for aid under this Act, for himself and his family, he should not have it until he had first given up all his land to the landlord – except one quarter of an acre. It was called the Quarter-acre Clause, and was found the most efficient and the cheapest of all the Ejectment Acts. Farms were thereafter daily given up without the formality of a notice to quit, or summons before Quarter Sessions. 

On the 6th of March, there were 730,000 heads of families on the public works. Provision was made by the last-recited Act for dismissing these in batches. On the 10th of April, the number was reduced to 500,723. Afterwards batches of a hundred thousand or so were in like manner dismissed. Most of these had now neither house nor home; and their only resource was in the Out-door Relief. For this they were ineligible if they held but one rood of land. Under the new law it was able-bodied idlers only who were to be fed: to attempt to till even a rood of ground was death. 

Steadily, but surely, the “Government” people were working out their calculation; and the product anticipated by “political circles” was likely to come out about September, in round numbers – two millions of Irish corpses. 

That “Government” had at length got into its own hands all the means and materials for working this problem, is now plain. There was no longer any danger of the elements of the account being disturbed by external interference of any kind. At one time, indeed, there were odds against the Government sum coming out right; for charitable people in England and in America, indignant at the thought of a nation perishing of political economy, did contribute generously, and did full surely believe, good, easy men, that every pound they subscribed would give Irish famine twenty shillings worth of bread: they thought so, and poured in their contributions, and their prayers and blessings with them. In vain! “Government” and political economy got hold of the contributions (of prayers and blessings neither Government nor political economy takes any account), and disposed of them in such fashion as to prevent their deranging the calculations of political circles.  

For example: the vast supplies of food purchased by the “British Relief Association,” with the money of charitable Christians in England, were everywhere locked up in Government stores. Government, it seems, contrived to influence or control the managers of that fund; and thus, there were thousands of tons of food rotting within the stores of Haulbowline, at Cork Harbour; and tens of thousands rotting without. For the market must be followed, not led (to the prejudice of our Liverpool merchants)! – private speculation must not be disappointed, nor the calculations of political circles falsified! 

All the nations of the earth might be defied to feed or relieve Ireland, beset by such a Government as this. Suppose America tries another plan; – the ship “Jamestown” sails into Cork harbour, and discharges a large cargo, which actually begins to come into consumption; when, lo! Free Trade – another familiar demon of Government – Free Trade, that carried off our own golden harvests of the year before comes in, freights another ship, and carries off from Cork to Liverpool a cargo against the American cargo. For the private speculators must be compensated; the markets must not be led; if these Americans will not give England their corn to lock up, why, she defeats them by “the natural laws of trade!” So many Briarean hands has Government; – so surely do official persons, understanding book-keeping by double entry, work their account. 

Private charity, one might think, in a country like Ireland, would put out the calculating Government sadly; but that, too, was brought in great measure under control. The “Temporary Relief Act,” talking of eight millions of money (to be used if needed), – distributing, like Cumaean Sybil, its mystic leaves by the myriad and the million, – setting charitable people everywhere to con its pamphlets, and compare clause with clause, – putting everybody in terror of its rates and in horror of its inspectors, – was likely to pass the Summer bravely.  

It would begin to be partly understood about August; would expire in September: and in September the “persons connected with Government” expected their round two millions of carcasses. 

A further piece of the machinery, all working to the same great end, was the “Vagrancy Act,” for the punishment of vagrants, – that is, of about four millions of the inhabitants, – by hard labour, “for any time not exceeding one month.” Many poor people were escaping to England, as deck-passengers on board the numerous steamers, hoping to earn their living by labour there; but “Government” took alarm about typhus fever – a disease not intended for England. Orders in Council were suddenly issued, subjecting all vessels having deck-passengers to troublesome examination and quarantine, thereby quite stopping up that way of escape; – and six days afterwards four steamship companies between England and Ireland, on request of the Government, raised the rate of passage for deck passengers. Cabin passengers were not interfered with in any way; for in fact it is the cabin passengers who spend in England five millions sterling per annum

Whither now were the people to fly? Where to hide themselves? They had no money to emigrate; no food, no land, no roof over them; no hope before them. They began to envy the lot of those who had died in the first year’s famine. The poorhouses were all full and much more than full. Each of them was a hospital for typhus fever; and it was very common for three fever patients to be in one bed, some dead and others not yet dead. 

Parishes all over the country being exhausted by rates, refused to provide coffins for the dead paupers, and they were thrown coffinless into holes; but in some parishes (in order to have, at least, the look of decent interment) a coffin was made, with its bottom hinged at one side, and closed at the other by a latch – the uses of which are obvious.  

It would be easy to horrify the reader with details of this misery: but let it be enough to give the results in round numbers. Imagination must fill up the appalling picture. Great efforts were this year made to give relief by private charity; and the sums contributed in that way by Irishmen themselves far exceeded all that was sent from all other parts of the world beside. As for the ship-loads of corn generously sent over by Americans, I have already shown how the benevolent object was defeated. The moment it appeared in any port, prices became a shade lower; and so much the more grain was carried off from Ireland by “free trade.” It was not foreign corn that Ireland wanted – it was the use of her own: that is to say, it was Repeal of the Union. 

The arrangements and operation of the Union had been such that Ireland was bleeding at every vein; her life was rushing out at every pore; so that the money sent to her for charity was only so much added to landlords’ rents and Englishmen’s profits. American corn was only so much given as a handsome present to the merchants and speculators. That is, the English got it.  

But, as I have said before, no Irishman begged the world for alms. The benevolence of Americans, and Australians, and Turks, and Negro slaves, was excited by the appeals of the English press and English members of Parliament; and in Ireland many a cheek burned with shame and indignation at our country being thus held up to the world, by the people who were feeding on our vitals, as abject beggars of broken victuals.  

The Repeal Association, low as it had fallen, never sanctioned this mendicancy. The true nationalists of Ireland, who had been forced to leave that Association, and had formed another society, the “Irish Confederation,” never ceased to expose the true nature of these British dealings – never ceased to repudiate and spit upon the British beggarly appeals; although they took care to express warm gratitude for the well-meant charity of foreign nations; and never ceased to proclaim that the sole and all-sufficient “relief measure” for the country would be, that the English should let us alone. 

On the 16th of March, for example, a meeting of the citizens of Dublin, assembled by public requisition at the Music Hall, presided over by the Lord Mayor, expressly to consider the peril of the country, and petition Parliament for proper remedies. It was known that the conveners of the meeting contemplated nothing more than suggestions as to importing grain in ships of war, stopping distillation from grain, and other trifles. Richard O’Gorman was then a prominent member of the Irish Confederation; and being a citizen of Dublin he resolved to attend this meeting, and if nobody else should say the right word, say it himself. After some helpless talk about the “mistakes” and “infatuation” of Parliament, and suggestions for change in various details, O’Gorman rose, and in a powerful and indignant speech, moved this resolution: –  

“That for purposes of temporary relief, as well as permanent improvement, the one great want and demand of Ireland is, that foreign legislators and foreign Ministers shall no longer interfere in the management of her affairs.” 

In his speech he charged the Government with being the “murderers of the people,” and said: –  

“Mr. Fitzgibbon has suggested that the measures of government may have been adopted under an infatuation. I believe there is no infatuation. I hold a very different opinion on the subject. I think the British Government are doing what they intend to do.” 

The present writer, as another citizen of Dublin, seconded Mr. O’Gorman’s resolution, and the report of my observations has these sentences: –  

“I have listened with pain and disappointment to the proceedings of a meeting purporting to be a meeting of the citizens of Dublin, called at such a crisis, and to deliberate upon so grave a subject, yet at which the resolutions and speakers, as with one consent, have carefully avoided speaking out what nine-tenths of us feel to be the plain truth in this matter. But the truth, my lord, must be told – and the truth is, that Ireland starves and perishes simply because the English have eaten us out of house and home. Moreover, that all the legislation of their Parliament is, and will be, directed to this one end – to enable them hereafter to eat us out of house and home as heretofore. It is for that sole end they have laid their grasp upon Ireland, and it is for that, and that alone, they will try to keep her.” 

Greatly to the consternation of the quiet and submissive gentlemen who had convened the meeting, O’Gorman’s resolution was adopted by overwhelming acclamation. 

Take another illustration of the spirit in which British charity was received by the Irish people. The harvest of Ireland was abundant and superabundant in 1847, as it had been the year before. The problem was, as before, to get it quietly and peacefully over to England. Therefore the Archbishop of Canterbury issued a form of thanksgiving for an “abundant harvest,” to be read in all churches on Sunday, the 17th of October.  

One Trevelyan, a Treasury Clerk, had been sent over to Ireland on some pretence of business; and the first thing he did when he landed was to transmit to England a humble entreaty that the Queen would deign to issue a royal “Letter,” asking alms in all those churches on the day of thanksgiving. The petition was complied with; the Times grumbled against these eternal Irish beggars; and the affair was thus treated in the Nation, which certainly spoke for the people more authentically than any other journal: –  

“Cordially, eagerly, thankfully we agree with the English Times in this one respect: – there ought to be no alms for Ireland. 

It is an impudent proposal, and ought to be rejected with scorn and contumely. We are sick of this eternal begging. If but one voice in Ireland should be raised against it, that voice shall be ours. To-morrow, to-morrow, over broad England, Scotland, and Wales, the people who devour our substance from year to year, are to offer up their canting thanksgivings for our ‘abundant harvest,’ and to fling us certain crumbs and crusts of it for charity. Now, if any church-going Englishman will hearken to us; if we may be supposed in any degree to speak for our countrymen, we put up our petition thus: Keep your alms, ye canting robbers; button your pockets upon the Irish plunder that is in them; and let the begging-box pass on. Neither as loans nor as alms will we take that which is our own. We spit upon the benevolence that robs us of a pound, and flings back a penny in charity. Contribute, now, if you will – these will be your thanks! 

But who has craved this charity? Why, the Queen of England, and her Privy Council, and two officers of her government, named Trevelyan and Burgoyne! No Irishman that we know of has begged alms from England. 

But the English insist on our remaining beggars. Charitable souls that they are, they like better to give us charity than to let us earn our bread! And consider the time when this talk of almsgiving begins: – our ‘abundant harvest.’ for which they are to thank God to-morrow, is still here; and there has been talk of keeping it here. So they say to one another – Go to; let us promise them charity and church-subscriptions: they are a nation of beggars; they would rather have alms than honest earnings: let us talk of alms, and they will send us the bread from their tables, the cattle from their pastures, the coats from their backs! 

We charge the ‘Government,’ we charge the Cabinet Council at Osborne House, with this base plot. We tell our countrymen that a man named Trevelyan, a Treasury Clerk – the man who advised and administered the Labour-Rate Act – that this Trevelyan has been sent to Ireland, that he, an Englishman, may send over, from this side the Channel, a petition to the charitable in England. We are to be made to beg, whether we will or no. The Queen begs for us; the Archbishop of Canterbury begs for us; and they actually send a man to Ireland that a veritable Irish begging-petition may not be a-wanting. 

From Salt-hill Hotel, at Kingstown, this piteous cry goes forth to England. ‘In justice,’ Trevelyan says, ‘to those who have appointed a general collection in the churches on the 17th, and still more in pity to the unhappy people in the western districts of Ireland,’ he implores his countrymen to have mercy; and gets his letter published in the London papers (along with another from Sir John Burgoyne,) to stimulate the charity of those good and well-fed Christians who will enjoy the luxury of benevolence to-morrow.  

Once more, then, we scorn, we repulse, we curse, all English alms: and only wish these sentiments of ours could reach before noon to-morrow every sanctimonious thanksgiver in England, Scotland, Wales, and Berwick-upon-Tweed.” 

In the same number, the Nation took the pains to collect and present statistics by which it appeared that every day, one day with another, twenty large steamships, not counting sailing vessels, left Ireland for England, all laden with that “abundant harvest” – for which the English, indeed, might well give thanks in their churches. 

Another example will finish the subject of alms. At a meeting of the Irish Confederation, it was determined to pass a resolution of thanks to those foreign nations, especially the Americans, who would have fed our people if they could only have reached them through the English Government. As many English people had also contributed largely, it was thought right to pass a vote of thanks even to them also; and to me was assigned by the Committee the duty of moving this latter resolution; a delicate task, which was discharged in these words, as they appear in the newspaper report: –  

“I have to move, sir, another vote of thanks for alms. We have thanked the kind citizens of that friendly country beyond the Atlantic; we have now to thank, heartily and unfeignedly to thank, those benevolent individuals who have sent us relief from the hostile country of Great Britain. There is many a generous heart and many an open hand in England; and if you look into the lists of contributors to our relief funds you will find large remittances, both from individuals and from congregations of every sect in England, which may put to shame the exertions of Irishmen themselves. There are amongst these, you may be sure, innumerable kind-hearted people, charitable women, and hard-working tradesmen, who have contributed according to their means, and without a thought of self-interest, to feed the hungry and reprieve the dying. Shall these people not be thanked? Shall we not discriminate between the rulers who have conspired to keep from us the use of our own resources, and these good people who have ministered to us out of theirs?  

In an assembly of Irishmen such questions need not be asked. Cordially, heartily, and unreservedly, we thank them. Now, sir, I wish I could stop here – I wish our thanks could be disencumbered of all ungracious restrictions, as in the case of America; but here is a very obvious distinction to be taken; and it is necessary there should be no mistake. Americans give us the produce of their own industry and energy. We have no claim upon them; – America never wronged us, never robbed us; – no American ever sought, save by fair competition, to ruin our trade that his might flourish; – America has not the spending of our rents and revenues; – Americans do not thrive by virtue of our beggary, and live by our death; – Americans do not impose upon us laws that breed famine and pestilence, nor locust swarms of officials that exasperate famine and pestilence. In your thanks to the Americans let your whole hearts go with them. Let your acknowledgments be as ample and unconditional as their generosity (hear, and loud cheers).  

They have laid us under an obligation; and if Heaven be good to us it shall be discharged (loud cheers). But Englishmen, sir, can well afford to give Ireland alms out of the spoils of Ireland. They are rich and may well be generous, because we have been such fools as to let them have our bread to eat and our money to spend for generations; because we have consented to use everything they can make, and to make little or nothing for ourselves; – because we have sacrificed our tradesmen’s wages, and our peasant’s lives to the insatiable spirit of English – commerce, let me call it; beggars must keep a civil tongue in their heads. Let me not be told that it is ungracious upon such an occasion to speak of the wrongs that England has done us. Sir, it is just upon such an occasion that it is needed most. Irishmen have been taught to look so long to England as the ruler and disposer and owner of all things Irish, that we absolutely scarce know our own plunder when the plunderers send a small pittance of it back to us in the form of alms.  

And let us be just; if we, in the depth of our distress, in the warmth of our gratitude, are almost forced to forget out of what funds these English alms are drawn, can we wonder if Englishmen forget it too, or even if they never knew it? – simple, exemplary country clergymen, benevolent women, ever prompt to do good, honest industrious tradesmen, who have learned their own handicraft, and little else, – can we believe that these people so much as know how their Government cared for them in times long past, at our expense; how provision was made to bring them over the rental of Ireland, to flow through the channels of English trade, enriching everybody as it passed; how Irish manufacturers were broken down by systematic laws, in order that Englishmen might weave our wool into cloth, might clothe us from head to foot, yes, to the very buttons, in fabrics of their making, and keep us raising food wherewithal to pay them? Do you imagine our kind benefactors knew, or thought of all this? No: let it not be supposed that I mean to derogate from their merits, or to limit our thanks, when I tell them that, whether they know it or not, they are living upon Irish plunder, that, although the loss of one crop be a visitation from Heaven, Irish famine is a visitation from England – that the reason why we want relief, and they can give it, is just that our substance has been carried away, and that they have it. For every well-paid tradesman of Birmingham and Leeds there is a broken tradesman pining in the garrets of Dublin, or begging his bread in the streets of Cork.  

The well-fed labourer who sits down to his dinner in England never thinks that he is devouring whole families in Ireland. Aye, the very charitable spinster, annuitant or fundholder, who hastens to send her mite to Ireland, little dreams as she draws her quarter’s dividend, that she is drawing the marrow from the bones of starving wretches in Kerry or Donegal. Hereafter, if Englishmen desire to benefit Ireland, let them know that the greatest charity they can do us, is to make their Government take its hand out of our pockets – its harpy claws off our tables. Let them compel it to draw off its commissioners, and its tens of thousands of gentlemanly officials, who swarm over the land, and eat up every green thing.  

Finally, let them make it restore that protecting legislature out of which it foully and fraudulently swindled us for their advantage. Let them do that, and we shall not need their alms for the future. But, my friends, you cannot expect that Englishmen will do all that for us. We must ourselves rescue our industry and redeem our lives from foreign oppression; we must banish the officials we, we must Repeal the Union. We must repay their charity by raising ourselves above their charity – repay their charity by refusing them our food, and refusing them our custom repay their charity by burning everything that comes from England, except coals repay their charity by enabling ourselves to give them charity when they come to need it (loud cheers).” 

I will only add that, during this year, coroners’ juries in several counties repeatedly, on inquests over famine-slain corpses, found upon their oath verdicts of “Wilful Murder against John Russell, commonly called Lord John Russell.” 

Let no American ever believe, therefore, for the future, (what the English Press has diligently inculcated,) that our people, when smitten by famine, fell a-begging from England, or from America either; or wonder when he meets with Irishmen ungrateful for the “relief measures:” – and above all, if Ireland should again starve, (as she is most likely to do,) and should still be under British dominion – let America never, never send her a bushel of corn or a dollar of money. Neither bushel nor dollar will ever reach her.