The Irish [Revolutionary] Soldier; G. W. Custis.

THE IRISH SOLDIER.
The following is an extract from a Speech by G. W. CUSTIS, at a recent celebration of the birth day of O’CONNELL:

The recollections of America’s days of trial must the more and more endear to her the memory of Irishmen’s services in the “times that tried men’s souls.” Perhaps I may tire you with “a thrice told tale,” yet, if the Americans were as much instructed in the history of their own times as they are in the records of antiquity, they would find as brilliant instances of courage and patriotism to admire, in the lives and ___ of the heroes of their Revolution, as of those who flourished in the days of Rome and Greece. The rising generations should be taught in their schools the story of their father’s fame; and then the youthful historians would dwell with as much admiration upon the passage of the Delaware, as they are wont to do on the passages of the Rubicon or the Granieus.

Do the mellowed recollections of antiquity contain a finer instance of courage and fidelity, under the severest pressure of misfortune, than is found in the story which I have illustrated from the restrum, and from the stage, of poor John Byrne, the Irish soldier of the revolution.—[Cheers.]

Years have rolled away since an aged and broken man came to my door, and saluted me with a “God bless your honour, and its Washington’s old soldier that’s come to see ye.”– I am proud to inform you that I often receive a call from the honored remnants of the Revolution. They say that they cannot pass my domicil, without calling on one they are pleased to term a member of the old family. And so hear me, God! more welcome to my house and my hearts are these gray and withered relics of the heroic time, than would be the presence of an Emperor.–[Cheering.]

Byrne was one of the finest types of that order of beings, now almost extinct, that ever met my notice. Never can I forget the touching scene that ensued, when I had ordered a cup to cheer the old man’s heart, the sublime expression of his features, when, having drank to his honor’s health, he reverently turned his eyes towards higher and better worlds, and exclaimed, “and here’s to the memory of General Washington, who is in heaven.” “Twas a head that a Guido should have painted, o’er which seventy winters had shed snows, while tears of veneration, at the remembrance of a loved commander, coursed each other down the channels, which time and hard service had worn full many and deep.

The sufferings which Byrne endured were even a refinement upon the hellish suages of the prison ship. For this preference, he was entirely indebted to his brogue, which betrayed his being a native of the Emerald Isle, and then, as he emphatically observed, they added their tortures as a civility due to my native country.

Oh, ye “who jest at sears that never felt a wound,” picture yourself a being, captive and desolate, gnawed by famine, breathing the air of pestilence, associated only with the dying and dead. But see, there appears the commander, like an angel of mercy, having heating under his wings in the shape of a pardon, protection, food, raiment, gold. But mark ye the price of all these merits. Twas like the devil tempting the Son of Man of old. “All these will I give ye,” but ye must abandon the cause of American liberty, said my Lord Admiral to poor Byrne, when the latter had crawled about the dock, and confronted the master of his fate. And what was the suffering hero’s reply? Hear it, Americans; treasure it in your hearts, ay, and write it in your books, that future ages may read it and admire the cry of brave Byrne in the prisonship at Charleston, and amid the ranks of death at Eutaw. Hurrah for America!– [Loud and long continued cheering.]

Hear this, the brave and good of all the world, and then to the banquet of Greek and Roman courage and fidelity, “with what appetite you may.” Turn over the pages of the past. Dive into the depths of centuries, and you can find no more brilliant example of courage in the midst of despair, of zeal and fidelity in the cause of human liberty, than is shown of John Byrne, the Irish soldier of the Revolution.

My tale is told. The old orator and his old stories will together descend the stream of life, cheering the rising generations with tales of the days of trial, and giving portraits from the life of those worthies whose courage and patriotism founded the empire of civil and religious liberty, which millions now enjoy, and will continue to be enjoyed by millions yet to come.–[Cheers.]

When your eagle banner shall again be unfurled in war– and the time is by no means remote– you will have in your ranks not merely regiments, but whole armies, composed of the sons of Erin. In the hour of need, like their famed countrymen of old, they will not be found “idle,” but, engraven on their colors, the battle cry of Byrne, will rush into the enemy’s ranks, with Hurrah for America!–[Loud Cheering.]