mere destruction all the advantages are on our side; and that on the other hand we can begin a reconstruction at home without waiting for a treaty of peace to be signed.  But we have some things to do for which a home government would be useful to us, and further, in the absence of such a government, it would be difficult to imagine what means could be employed to turn the people away from their too exclusive absorption in Anglo-Irish politics.

It is, then, from a practical point of view that we wish for peace.  But, we may lawfully ask, will not this peace bring with it a special danger, against which we ought to take precautions?  As a matter of fact, there is such a danger, and it lies in the fact that the people have been to so great an extent obsessed by the political struggle that they run the risk, once their end is attained, of collapsing and of losing interest in the national question.  Let us not forget that that question is to save our language and our civilization; without that, it is all over with our nationality.  Let us endeavor to turn our parliament to account in order to work seriously on the reconstruction of our national life, and it is certain that Ireland will find therein her salvation.

We can, therefore, take advantage either of England’s prolonged resistance or of peace.  If England decides to continue the contest, she will suffer more from it than we.  Her empire, her institutions, her safety, will be more and more impaired, while, as for us, there will result a strong growth in patriotism and in anti-British bitterness.  What we have to do, right now, is to take our bearings in such a way that, no matter what happens to England, our own future shall be assured.  We can do it if we wish it:  the question is, shall we wish it?

Here it may be objected, Cui bono The English language is quite enough for us.  We have it now and we speak it, sometimes, even better than the English people themselves.  We are proud of using the same language as Sheridan, Burke, and Grattan used.  Such an opinion has its modicum of truth, though less now than a hundred years ago.  Formerly there was in Ireland, and especially around Dublin, a little colony of Anglo-Irish.  The members of this colony spoke a very pure and classic English, and this fact is largely responsible for the place which Ireland at one time held in English literature.  But during the last century the remains of this colony have been swamped beneath a flood of half-Anglicized people, of Irishmen from the country districts, who were formerly excluded, and who brought with them such a mixture of expressions and of phonetic tendencies derived from the Gaelic that the language of Grattan, Sheridan, and Burke has well-nigh gone out of existence.  The reason of this is that since the date of Catholic emancipation, most careers are open to everybody.  The result has been that the newly enfranchised majority has ultimately absorbed the minority, and that the