Why on earth have so many of the People of Dublin made fools of themselves by getting together in Sackville Street every evening to hoot at coaches? The coach contract was an injury and an insult to us, but it is now irremediable. We have serious work before us, and let us have no by-battles. To the devil with the whole affair, rather than compromise our cause.

Nothing could please the Government more than frequent little rows, which would get up a hatred between the soldiers and police and the people. They are now very good friends. The armed men are becoming popular and patriotic, and the unarmed, we trust, more orderly, hospitable, and kindly every day. Let us have no more tussling and patrolling.

What do these mobs mean? A noisy mob is always rash—often cruel and cowardly. A good friendly shout from a multitude is well, and a passing hearty curse endurable. The silent and stern assemblage of orderly men, like the myriads of Tipperary, or like one of Napoleon’s armies, is a noble sight and a mighty power; but a scolding, hooting mob, which meets to make a noise, and runs away from a stick, a horse, or a sabre, is a wretched affair.

“I hate little wars,” said Wellington. So do we; and we hate still more a petty mob meeting without purpose, and dispersing without success. Perfect order, silence, obedience, alacrity, and courage make an assemblage formidable and respectable. We want law and order—we are seriously injured by every scene or act of violence, no matter how transient. Let us have no more of this humbug. If we are determined men we have enough to learn and to do without wasting our time in hissing and groaning coaches.

In reference to popular faults, we cannot help saying a word on the language applied to certain of the enemy’s leaders, especially the Duke of Wellington. We dislike the whole system of false disparagement. The Irish People will never be led to act the manly part which liberty requires of them by being told that “the Duke,” that gallant soldier and most able general, is a screaming coward and doting corporal. We have grave and solemn work to do. Making light of it or of our enemies may inspire a moment’s overweening confidence, but would ensure ultimate defeat. We have much to contend against; but our resources are immense, and nothing but our own rashness or cowardice can defeat us.