been composed not long after the passing of the Statute, 24th of Edward Ist in 1295, which forbade the degenerate English in Ireland to imitate the native Irish by allowing their hair to grow long, in Coolins. In the Irish song the Irish maiden is made to lament the loss of his fair locks by her lover. The words of the song have been lost, but the air has come down to us, the most beautiful, as I have said, of our ancient melodies. Charles Fanning got the first prize of ten guineas for playing it at the harp festival in Belfast in 1792. Moore wrote his beautiful song, "Though the Last Glimpse of Erin With Sorrow I See," to this air. He, however, made some changes in the music, as he did in many other melodies, to fit his words. Of this tampering with our ancient music Bunting bitterly complained but he later admitted that he was somewhat reconciled to that change on account of the beauty of Moore's words. The "Coolin" underwent the same changes in its history as "The Last Rose of Summer." Joyce in his "Irish Folk Music and Song," gives what he considers the original air as it is the simplest.

Redfern Mason in his very interesting work on the "Song Lore of Ireland," says of our ancient melodies; "In a way it may be said that they had no composers; they are a growth rather than an individual creation. Sung by many generations, often in many localities far removed from one another, adapted successfully, to poems of varying sentiment, they have been subject to continual modifications."

Another of our beautiful melodies "Eileen Aroon" has a very interesting history. Eileen was the daughter of the O'Kavanagh of Polmonty Castle, near New Ross, County Wexford. Carroll Mor O'Daly, the chief composer of Ireland, fell in love with her and she reciprocated his affection. Her parents objected to their marriage and O'Daly, after professing unchanging love for Eileen, left the country. A suitable match was subsequently arranged for her, to which she reluctantly consented. A great festival was arranged to celebrate the betrothal. To this festival, O'Daly, disguised as a harper, gained admission. Eileen recognized him, notwithstanding his disguise. Was it when he again looked upon her, after his long absence, that the inspiration came to him of that beautiful melody which has come down to us through five hundred years of strife and turmoil? Many songs have been written to the air of "Eileen Aroon" but not one of

them approaches in beauty and tenderness the words of the original. "Wilt thou stay or wilt thou come with me, Eileen Aroon," he asks and when she gives him to understand that she will go with him he exclaims "Ceud milé faultha rōth Eileen Aroon" (A hundred thousand welcomes to you Eileen Aroon), which has become the heartfelt greeting of the Irish since O'Carroll's day. Of course she went with him and I have no doubt 'they lived happy ever after."

Moore wrote "Erin the Tear and the Smile in Thine Eye," to this air. The Scotch have adopted the air under the title "Robin Adair" slightly changing the last bars of the air. By the way, Robin Adair was an Irishman, a member of the Irish Parliament for County Wexford. While traveling in England he met the Lady Caroline Keppel, a daughter of the Earl of Alhemarle, whose carriage was overturned on the road. His timely assistance led to an acquaintance which ripened into love. Notwithstanding the opposition of her father they were married. The words of the song are supposed to have been written by Lady Caroline during the absence of Robin. The great German composer, Handel, said he would rather be the author of "Eileen Aroon" than of all the music he had written. The German composers have made free use of this air too.

America as well as Europe has drawn upon the musical genius of the Irish people for its music. This is only what might have been expected. The Irish immigration to this country began from the very beginning of its settlement, and has continued uninterrupted since. These immigrants brought their music with them and it has become, like themselves, a part of the country's best assets.

"Yankee Doodle," so typically American (?), is only "All the Way to Galway" which was published about 1752 in Ireland. "Maryland, My Maryland" is the same air as "The West's Asleep," and so too is the German Tannenbaum, and "Nearer My God To Thee" is "Eileen Aroon." It is a long way from "Yankee Doodle" to the "Star Spangled Banner"; yet we have it from W. H. Grattan Flood, the greatest living authority on Irish music and Irish antiquities, that the music of our splendid national anthem is Irish.*

That February morning in 1915 when the Panama-Pacific * See several articles in the "Ave Maria" for 1915 about this air.

Exposition was thrown open to the world I stood in the large plaza fronting the Tower of Jewels, waiting beside the spraying fountains, the President's signal from Washington, declaring the exposition open. When that signal came, above the booming of the cannon and the din made by the numerous steamboats in the bay nearby, rose the voices of the thousands who joined in the singing of our national anthem led by the great band. It was an impressive sight not soon to be forgotten; men waving their hats and cheering and ladies waving their handerchiefs, and every one with a note of music in his soul (or in his throat) joining in the song. And I was proud to know that Ireland shared with America the glory and the pleasure of that moment, for was it not Ireland that furnished appropriate music to the deathless words of Key! Ireland has furnished inspiration to others in many lines of intellectual activity, but her rulers to justify their own acts of cruelty and oppression have always told the world that "No good can come out of Nazareth."

Many writers on music have borne willing and generous testimony to the great superiority of Irish folk music over that of any other country in the world. The latest testimony and not the least valuable is given by Sir Charles Villiers Stanford and Charles Forsyth in their "History of Music." In their very interesting chapter on folk music they bear this testimony to Ireland's pre-eminence in song:

"The folk music of Ireland is generally admitted to be the finest in the world. It has a variety unknown to any other country. Every conceivable incident of human life from the cradle to the grave is reflected from its surface, and there is a corresponding variety of substance in the tunes themselves. The best examples are astonishingly beautiful; and they have an incomparable perfection of form. They are never wandering or doubtful, unless intentionally so. And they rarely depend, as some English tunes do, on mere mathematical balance of design, though they generally include this special form of excellence."

It would be easy to multiply similar testimony to the surpassing beauty of Irish music, but it is not necessary; the music itself is the best testimony. Those who have heard John McCormack sing the songs of his country need not be told of the beauty of Irish song. He has traveled out of the beaten paths and made

popular songs previously unknown to any except those who made a study of Irish music. From what I have said of the collections of Irish music it can be seen that comparatively few of our song tunes have had words written for them; there is therefore a rich and pleasant field awaiting the song writer whose soul can respond to the message which our tunes convey. Alfred Percival Graves has been very successful in this respect.

It is a pity that such music should be permitted to die, and that the world should lose this great legacy of song which the once great Celtic race has left to mankind.

"Ne'er forgotten silence fall on thee,

Old music heard by Mona of the sea,
Nor may that eerie, wistful music die;

Still in the far, fair Gaelic places

Its sighing wakes the soul in withered faces,

And wakes remembrance of great things gone by."

An extract from The Eastern Herald of Portland, Maine; issue of June 28th, 1794:

"Captain Harding in the brig Eliza has arrived here from Ireland. In her came passengers, about 200 persons, men, women and children. The men are chiefly farmers and weavers; they are an honest, industrious set of people and will make valuable citizens. The oppressions and cruelties of their own country were to be borne no longer and they have fled for succor to a strange land.

"Brethren, our arms are open to receive you, also. All men are brethren. We believe this, and the day is fast approaching when all the nations of the earth will acknowledge it to be true."

CORNELIUS HEENEY.

BY WILLIAM HARPER BENNETT.

A homeless lad from Kings County came to the City of Dublin one day in the latter half of the eighteenth century. He was motherless, and his father, remarrying, had gone to America leaving young Cornelius Heeney to work out his own destiny. In Dublin young Heeney found a welcome and a home with the Fullards, distant kinfolk. The family consisted of a brother and three sisters, Dorothy, Elizabeth, and Frances, who had come from Monasteroris, Edenderry, Kings County. A small distillery, operated by Fullard, afforded them a competence. Heeney remained with them through youth and young manhood and became invaluable to his benefactors. The section in which Dublin, Kings and Kildare counties are located, is rich in the crumbling remains of monastery and castle and its lore and legend have been handed down from generation to generation. In these parts at that day were settled little groups of Quakers or Friends, a people esteemed and respected by both Protestants and Catholics. Even to this day, in far off America, the maxims and sage advice of the Irish Quakers are handed down by Protestant and Catholic Leinstermen from father to son. It was during these youthful years, that Quaker influence was assisting in moulding young Heeney's character. To the end of his days he showed the Quaker impress in character, and even in dress, and always held in high esteem and deep affection the Society of Friends.

The not distant Curragh of Kildare and the hunting field held great attractions for Mr. Fullard, and a neglected business resulted in financial embarrassments. Heeney, at that time, nearing thirty years of age, struggled manfully to bolster up the falling fortunes of the house of Fullard, but without avail. Failure came, and America, the land of promise, beckoned. He saw no future in Ireland and parted from his benefactors promising to aid them should fortune smile, a promise faithfully fulfilled. It is evident that all his earnings had been lost in his endeavor to avert failure from the Fullards, because a kinsman, Father Earl of Phillipstown, and friends in Phillipstown and Edenderry out