John Morley: “I think they will commit a great error if they take this course.”

There lay Ireland,—squalid, dismal, sullen, dull, expectant, sunk deep in hostile intent.

All alike concerned themselves with its truth or falsehood, with what they counted to be its abstract fitness or unfitness.

An Indian gentleman has been placed on the Council of the Viceroy--not an everyday transaction.

But the Poet Laureate has written his own song on the hearts of his countrymen that can never die.