John Flood

“ But if, instead of crossing straight over that opening river of life, we let the eye wander to every inviting point, we will be swept with its tide far from our true landing place, and in the same direction will lie our future path. Every step we take will lead us farther and farther from Truth and Happiness; and the end will come all dark and despairing, without a solace and without a hope. "There is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune." Remember, the tide remains at the flood but for a few moments, and then, if ever, the successful step must be taken. ”

“ But fast the foe came pouring in, Eugene in the Town Hall
Commands and Thirty Thousand men, are rushing to his call.
But numbers freed not the brigade, as like avenging fates
In that fierce tempest Irish rush, they drive them to the gates,
There, cheering high above the fight, outnumbered ten to one,
They hand to hand still held their own, still gallantly fought on—
They fought, like tigers for their young, as oft they fought before,
But higher into Glory's skies did "Wild Geese" never soar.
God's blessing upon their name, their race, and on their land! ”

“ Every breeze that sweeps over the ocean’s breast is fraught with hidden meaning, and every wave that breaks along our vessels side, will speak to us words of strength and import. Let us watch them as they heave and roll around us—listen to them as they whisper to each other in the soft low tones of their Curling Crests—see what a depth of quiet strength lies buried in the heaving swells as they rise and fall and roll along. ”

“ Dear is that word to our hearts at all times,—dear even in its most limited sense, and when we are enjoying its peace, its blessings, and its affections; but oh! inexpressibly dear is that little word to the weary wanderer! To him its significance is limitless—everything his heart yearns after—Country, wife, child, brother, friend! all are enveloped in its mystic charm; and though wandering far, far away from the scenes of his joyous youth and merry boyhood, the purer part of his nature returns thither, and revels in dreams o'er the beloved haunt of the dim and dreary past. ”

“ Not far from the moat, in the centre of a fine park, is a majestic oak call "King William’s Oak," under which it is said the monarch slept the night before the battle of the Boyne. The park in which it stands rises high above the river, and this is perhaps the most beautiful of all Boyne scenery. The river runs through a deep narrow valley, the steep side, of which are covered with mighty forest trees, that stretch their arms far o’er the river below. Seldom does the sun ever greet the deep water here, flowing along without a ripple and looking as back as ink. ”

“ And soon within an Indian bay the ship at anchor swings.
Not idle then the busy crew—ere long the spacious hold
Is emptied of its western freight, and stored with India's gold.
Again the ponderous Anchors weighed—the shore is left behind
The snowy sails are bosomed out before the favouring wind;
The mighty deep around her seems a calm and mirrored lake
And thousand trains of sparkling light are gleaming in her wake
For home she steers! She seems to know and answer to the word,
And swifter skims the burnished deep like some fair ocean bird.
"For home! for home!" ”

“ Christmas Day dawned,—that glorious day celebrated as the anniversary of the Saviour of the world, and which brings to all in Christendom—rich and poor alike,—"glad tidings of great joy;" when the united members of a family gather around the festive bread and drink their fill of the cup of happiness; and when the more opulent open their hearts and purses, under the operation of the genial influences increased by the holy season, to their less fortunate brothers, infusing peace and joy all round. It was a sad day for Michael O'Regan and his family. ”

“ Away across the burning zone the vessel southward flies,
Again the northern beacons fade and southern stars arise.
Oh! hapless crew, you little dream, as onward still you go,
That o'er your ill-fated ship is hung a doom of woe.
Again the stormy Cape draws near, and furious billows rise,
And once again the Dutchman's laugh, both wind and wave defies.
But fiercely swept the tempest ere the scornful laugh had died,
A warning to the daring man to curb his impious pride. ”

“ Now loud, bold, and powerful as the roar of lions is the voice of the mighty ocean, as its billowy mountains sweep past,—now soft and low as the murmuring of lovers are the whisperings of its foam-tipped waves. The are speaking to us all,—and though hearts, and feelings, and positions may be widely diversified, still there is a voice in the waves for everyone, and, whether thundering along resistless grandeur, or murmuring in gently flowing ripples, those voices are speaking to us of wisdom, and hoe and holy things. "Be strong, be strong," they say to the weak ”

“ Each homestead, and old Christmas brow
Is crowned with evergreen tonight.
A snowy mantle's on the grass—
Old frozen Winter placed it there.
And trooping to the midnight mass,
Our hearts are filled with holy prayer
⁠To welcome blessed Christmas.
The church is all ablaze with light,
And pious hands have placed there
Festoons of brilliant green and white:
The crib arranged with holy Care,
From God's high altar there ascends
A light, like glory's brightest beam;
The organ's peal, that melting blends
Our souls into blissful dream,
⁠To welcome holy Christmas. ”

“ He dreamt not that an awful doom was hanging o'er his ship,—
That Vanderdecken's name would would yet make pale the speaker's lip.
The vessel bounded on her way, and spire went down:
Ere darkness fell, beneath the wave had sunk the distant town,
No More, no more, ye helpless crew, shall Holland meet your eye!
In lingering hope and keen suspense maid, wife and child shall die.
Away, away, the vessel speeds,—but sea and sky alone
Is round her as her course she steers across the torrid zone. ”

“ Then modulating his voice, he said more tenderly, "Dear Nora, can you not have pity on me? I love you as no one else can love you. I would make you my wife; and instead of living in a pauper's cabin, giving away your precious life for a mere morsel of bread, you would be the equal of any lady in the land, and live in a fine house, and have servants to attend you slightest wish." ”

“ Tell me, "Wild Goose," why is Australia so dry, and our own native island so humid?
Tell me, "Wild Goose," whereas abandoned to sun, and wind, and weather, evaporation from the smooth and mirrored surface,—wherein you admire your own beautiful proportions,—is so great—to what extent would it be increased if the operation of water were assisted by the ruffling and agitating, and why flapping off now—white wings to the breeze? ”

“ It is only the brush moving over the blank sheet of the future and tracing the indelible panorama of the past.
But of greatest import to us now is the dim blank filed of the Future. Swiftly and steadily is the unstained page being filled in: thought, word, and act, are being stamped there for ever as the ponderous cylinder of time revolves. It is vain to attempt to pierce its hazy veil,—it is futile to endeavour to read what has not yet been written: but we may, and we ought, to picture to ourselves that future bright and happy as we would wish it to be.—The past is gone from us—unalterable. ”

“ Home!— how could he call a strange house "home"? The house where his fathers, he, and his children were born. To be given up to a stranger! It was intolerable but an inevitable fact. Sadly the bright cold Christmas they were to spend in their old, and once happy home. And their feasting? Let us not look in on their poverty that blessed day. That was the most sumptuous banquet in the land to them on this holy day, and the darling of their hearts tempest - tossed on the raging seas perhaps—oh, horrible thought!—his precious body the prey of voracious monsters of the deep? ”

“ Against the tempest struggling, still the phantom ship is seen
Across the billows dashing; and 'tis said that every word
Of her captain's awful blasphemy upon the gale is heard.
But heaven help the hapless crew that impious sentence hears;
The doom of those is sealed to whom that fatal ship appears:
They'll never reach their destined port—they'll see their homes no more
They who see the flying Dutchman, never, never, reach the shore
J.B. O'Reilly.
"A Merry Christmas!" ”

“ You are a sociable bird, by the way of steadied habits,—your feather is beautiful. Come, let us have a flight together. Your wing is strong,—your vision is microscopic power.
Tell me, my water fowl, you who are next, if not equal to the snow-white swan in skies to scan the surface of the deep—who so cunningly drop an ear to listen to the nestling of the pearly dewdrop, disentangling itself from its fellows in the aqueous body, to lift itself aloft, for no other end than to be shivered with atoms on the point of a ray from the valiant sun,—you, who, with upturned eye, survey the firmament ”

“ A great teacher—Adversity—has taught us. We know now that without gold, or power, or position we may be rich and powerful: rich in better things—rich in the possession of a means of becoming happy ourselves—powerful in being able to confer happiness on others. Gentle words are boons which we all possess and have in our power to bestow: and here, under the dark clouds of misfortune, they constitute our wealth and our power. We know, from our experience of life, how keen is the edge of an unkind word ”

“ My liberty was gone, and I felt it severely; for a few weeks had only passed away since I was treading the beautiful hills of Kerry, free as the eagle that soars over the steep crags from which the take their name. I thought the adventures and hardships I had encountered to preserve that liberty; and now that a foul hand was laid upon me, I fancied I could not breath freely, and my heart swelled with fierce and bitter feelings. I had not been five minutes locked in the train when the thought of escape flowed through my brain, and all my energies were instantly at work. ”

“ Mildly they reply, as they gently fan us, "we will sweep the broad ocean, tempering the burning heat of the tropic sun to the half-fainting voyager as he passes through the torrid zone, and, bearing aloft the ocean-spray to the clouds, convey it as refreshing dew to the arid soil of Africa, and to the islands and mainland of Europe to saturate the ground in preparation for forthcoming fruits and flowers." ”

“ Manifold are the impressions inspired by the vast deep, to those who look upon its restless, ever-changing surface. To some it is a source of terror, as, in its fury, it thunders and dashes—now back and sullen, anon white with the foam of rage—against the rock-bound shore. A thing of wonder and awe it is as its mountain billows sweep, with irresistible force, across its watery fields—away, column after column, tossing the strong ship from wave-top to wave-top, like a plaything of a child. ”

“ In the lives of all men there is a certain point—a moment may be—fraught with influences of the most material importance and well-being. By our appreciation of that critical moment is our future path traced, and our characters formed. Our way through the world will be the same direction as that in which we cross the Rubicon. If we launch out bravely and confidently, our eyes fixed on the shore beyond, and with a manly determination to fight against wave and current, and reach the desired point,—then straight onward will be our future course ”