No conclusion could be more just. No people have struggled more heroically than they have for their freedom, and no people ever better deserved it.

As

The condition of the lower classes of the Irish people formed a subject of investigation at the Social Science Meeting in Glasgow, where a paper was read by Sir Emerson Tennent, our distinguished countryman, in which he investigated the condition, habits, and modes of life of the lower classes of the Irish settled in the large towns in England. A Committee of the House of Commons had previously investigated the same subject, and the result was instructive. a proof of their affection for each other, they all live together in a quarter called "The Irish Quarter;" but whether you would wish to live in that quarter with your countrymen is not for me to say. A curious conclusion was arrived at by those who inquired into the physical condition of these classes of the Irish—that they did not much alter their habits by such residence in Scotland or England; while the Scotch mechanic or the English tradesman very often rises to be himself a manufacturer or possessor of large establishments and of great wealth, it has not often happened that the Irish workman has risen to the like position. The learned critic to whom I have referred argues, that perhaps it is owing to "the suspended development of mental power." This dogma means, I presume, that their education and the formation of their habits were not calculated to enable them to rise in the social scale; and that the practice of living together and imitating each other did not tend to improve them physically or intellectually; and furthermore, that they acted as if they thought "everything was good enough, well enough, time enough."

But, if you look to America, as I have been told by friends who have travelled there, you will find the position of the

individual Irishman to be considerably improved.

Wherever he is separated from masses of his countrymen he throws aside his slovenly habits, the clothing which makes him remarkable, and his cheerless aspect, with his poverty. I have been informed by a professional gentleman, who lately went to America to search for witnesses, and who was obliged to explore many habitations of the Irish, that the improvement in their habits was conspicuous, and their condition far beyond what we would expect to find it to be. For a solution of that question of difficulty that perplexed our friends in Glasgow, I give them the fact I have narrated about the condition of the individual Irishman under different circumstances in America.

If we turn now from the aspect of persons to cities, and compare Paris with Dublin, we may draw some profitable conclusions. I maintain, that the natural advantages of Dublin are far superior to those of Paris. We have the sea, a navigable river, and suburbs of unrivalled beauty; we can get quickly into the country, and when there know how to enjoy it. But the improvements which have been made in Paris, and all around the city, for the last ten years, are marvellous. What the French aim at is organisation in everything relating to health and social life. As to the city, it is now splendid; their new streets are spacious and beautiful; their markets models of cleanliness; they seem to have an aversion to rough or broken pavements or to the least spot of dirt in their streets. I do not think our rulers in Dublin are affected by an equal hatred to anything of that kind. The public conveyances in Paris are admirable; their slaughter-houses are, by law, placed at a little distance from the city, and well deserve a visit by any person wishing to see an institution of that kind improved; the purity of their river is attended to, and their fountains and parks are kept in

the highest state of neatness, order, and artistic beauty. What is there to prevent us from following their example? I cannot understand why our markets, streets, and public institutions, should not be raised to the level of those of the most polished and civilized city in the world.

This conducts me to the true question in the first part of my address-cleanliness in connection with sanitary reform. Contrast the sanitary reformer with the doctor; many good people build hospitals; and when they have built them they are possessed with an extraordinary desire to fill them, while a wiser man would empty the hospital by teaching people a happier and better mode of life. "Cleanliness," I believe with Wesley, to be "next to godliness." This is really a matter of life or death. You will perceive the truth in a moment. The duration of life and preservation of health, considered relatively in town and country, were the subject of a commission issued a few years ago by the government in England to inquire into that important question. The inquiry filled a large blue book, of which, however, the conclusions amounted only to six; and every one of them touched ourselves. I give the substance of the results-1. The average duration of human life is much shorter in towns than in the country. 2. Out of one hundred and twenty-five persons who die on an average every day in London, only nine die of old age. 3. Not one-half of the children born alive attain the age of five years complete. 4. The mortality of those classes who inhabit the inferior portions of our towns is such, that they do not live half as long as their wealthier neighbours. 5. This excess of mortality increases in proportion to the crowding of houses in towns, and of inmates in houses, and to the lack of drainage, light, sunshine, and water. 6. Works of drainage, and supply of pure water, with admission of light and air, have gradually

diminished this excessive mortality in places previously most unhealthy.

These are serious matters for us to consider, because, as I have said, they affect life and death. You will observe, from the manner in which this report was drawn up, the Commissioners do not place much reliance on the difference of diet and clothing between rich and poor, especially in reference to the labouring classes. In England their clothing is quite suited to their condition in life; and the doctors were perplexed to know, whether most mischief arose from Englishmen eating too much or too little. I dare say, you have heard of the English bishop, who was taken prisoner by the Algerine Corsairs, and detained a prisoner for two years. His lordship was afflicted with gout, and his rank not being known, he was fed on bread and water, and made to work in a brick-field. After the expiration of the two years he was ransomed ; and, it is reported, never had gout from that time to the day of his death. If that be a fact, it proves that rich living is not as favourable to health as a more cooling or ordinary diet. Thus, it may be concluded, that it is not so much diet and clothing, but fresh air, larger space, less crowding, more sunshine, better dwellings, freedom from impure influences, that are wanted. In this manner we have found out a mode, easy and cheap, of keeping health and preserving life. With the close alley, contrast the airy square; examine the barracks, formerly so much in want of ventilation, and now so much improved, and in regard to them you will find that the earliest improvement was made in the management of horses; it did not occur to our first ventilators, who had command, to apply the sanitary rule to men; but when they lost horses, they began to ventilate stables. The late Dr. Graves has written with masterly sense upon "Ventilation," and proved his conclusion by a

computation of the fearful waste of human life caused by the over-crowding of the poor Irish emigrants in the sailing ships which formerly conveyed them to America. Another learned critic illustrated the subject of the action of the lungs, and the necessity which existed to supply them with pure air, by the fate of the monkeys in the Zoological Gardens in London. There were sixteen monkeys of the smallest species known, and it was thought by their keeper desirable to shut out the cold air of winter, in order that the monkeys might have the warmth of their native climate. This was done; they all died. A Committee of the Zoological Society determined to call in the aid of anatomy: the monkeys were dissected, and it was found that they died of tubercular consumption; and it was ascertained that the want of pure air killed the merry little creatures. The same fate overtakes thousands who are shut up in the low, damp, crowded dwellings of the poor; in the wretched lodging-houses, in dark lanes through which there is no passage, in which every room contains a number of our fellow-beings pining away for want of the pure air of heaven, of light and sunshinetheir bodies withering as they thus drag on a wretched existence. Now, there is a most important lesson to be derived from these awful considerations. Look at our city and suburbs, and review their condition for some years back the neat dwellings, the pretty gardens, the sweet flowers, the whole aspect of the beautiful suburbs of Dublin leave little to desire. Judicious improvements spring up, and are springing up every day. The wise people residing in the environs of the metropolis seem determined to live as long and as happily as they can, and they have a right to do both. But what is the state of house accommodation for our working people in the city? Look at the old streets and narrow lanes-look at the Liberties of the city. What is the