Lover’s wit was spontaneous, and bubbled over in his ordinary conversation with friends.  An English lady friend, deeply interested in Ireland, once said to him—­“I believe I was intended for an Irishwoman.”  Lover gallantly replied—­“Cross over to Ireland and they will swear you were intended for an Irishman.”

A famous Irishman, whom I saw in Liverpool when I was a boy, was the Apostle of Temperance, Father Mathew.

At this time he visited many centres of Irishmen in Great Britain, and administered the pledge of total abstinence from intoxicating drink to many thousands of his fellow-countrymen.  In London alone over 70,000 took the pledge.  As in Ireland, this brought about a great social revolution.  The temperance movement certainly helped O’Connell’s Repeal agitation, which was in its full flood about this time.

My remembrance of Father Mathew was that of a man of portly figure, rather under than above the middle height, with a handsome, pleasant face.  He had a fine powerful voice, which could be heard at the furthest extremity of his gatherings, which often numbered several thousands.  As he gave out the words of the pledge to abstain, with the Divine assistance, from all intoxicating liquors, he laid great emphasis on the word “liquors,” pronouncing the last syllable of the word with almost exaggerated distinctness.  After this he would go round the ring of those kneeling to take the pledge, and put round the neck of each the ribbon with the medal attached.

I ought to remember his visit to Liverpool, for I took the pledge from him three times during his stay in the town.

My mother took the whole family, and, wherever he was—­at St. Patrick’s, or in a great field on one side of Crown Street, or at St. Anthony’s—­there she was with her family.  She was a woman with the strong Irish faith in the supernatural, and in the power of God and His Church, that can “move mountains.”  A younger brother of mine had a running in his foot which the doctors could not cure.  She determined to take Bernard to Father Mathew and get him to lay his hands on her boy.

At St. Patrick’s, with her children kneeling around her, she asked the good Father to touch her son.  He, no doubt thinking it would be presumptuous on his part to claim any supernatural gift, passed on without complying with her request.  Father Mathew’s next gathering was in the Crown Street fields.  I was a boy of about nine years, attending Copperas Hill schools.  Mr. Connolly, who was in charge, was a very good master, but there was nothing very Irish in his teaching.  Some idea of this may be formed when I mention that—­though there were not a dozen boys in the school who were not Irish or of Irish extraction—­the first map of Ireland I ever saw was on the back of one of O’Connell’s Repeal cards.

It was not until the Christian Brothers came, a few years afterwards, that this was changed.  I shall always be grateful to that noble body of men, not only for the religious but for the national training they gave.  We had Brothers Thornton and Swan—­the latter since the Superior of the Order in Ireland.