What good can this meetin' do? Ye say the
people are ignorant and wretched. Why have them batthered and shot
down by the soldiers?"
"It has always been the martyrs who have made a cause. I am willin'
to be one. I'd be a thraitor if I passed my life without lifting my
voice and my hands against my people's oppressors."
"Ye're throwin' yer life away, Frank O'Connell."
"I wouldn't be the first and I won't be the last"
"Nothing will move ye?" cried the priest.
"One thing only," replied the agitator.
"And what is that?"
"Death!" and O'Connell strode abruptly away.
CHAPTER II
THE PANORAMA OF A LOST YOUTH
As O'Connell hurried through the streets of the little village
thoughts surged madly through his brain. It was in this barren spot
he was born and passed his youth. Youth! A period of poverty and
struggle: of empty dreams and futile hopes. It passed before him now
as a panorama. There was the doctor's house where his father hurried
the night he was born. How often had his mother told him of that
night of storm when she gave her last gleam of strength in giving
him life! In storm he was born: in strife he would live. The mark
was on him.
Now he came to the little schoolhouse where he first learned to
read.
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