Excerpt from Thos; D'arcy McGee: Sketch of His Life and Death D' Arcy, by which Mr. McGee was conventionally kwn, is, we have understood, derived from his god-father Mr. Thomas D'Arcy, a gentlemen who resided in the neighborhood of Carlingford, and, as we may infer, a personal friend of the family. Of his parents Mr. McGee was accustomed to speak with filial affection and becoming reverence, for he was early taught to hor his father and his mother. But for the memory of the latter, whom he lost at a very early age, he entertained feelings of tender and enthusiastic admiration. Such feelings appear to be almost divinely wrought, and, like threads of gold, they beautify as well as strengthen the purest fibres of our nature. On the mind of Mr. McGee they exerted the gentle influence of poetry as well as the holy one of love. Separate qualities, such as duty and respect, obedience and devotion, love and pride, when looked at through the lens of his memory, cease to be distinct. All his recollections of his mother, though differently colored, nevertheless met and blended harmoniously in his character, t unlike the soft hues of the rainbow, as in the hush of evening they silently melt in a sea of light. No doubt there were strong intellectual affinities between the mother and her son; and this sympathetic attraction created an indelible impression on the heart of the latter. The intellectual charts of the two minds were, we are inclined to think, marked with t dissimilar lines; bold and deeply drawn on the case of the son, they were sketchily traced and delicately shaded in the instance of the mother. The subtle charm of divine poesy seems to have pervaded both; and this spell of fancy and feeling, of imagination and truth, may, in some sort, account for the magnetic attractions which governed the intercourse of the parent and child. To talk about his mother was, as all who kw him had occasion to observe, a source of unalloyed happiness to her son. As in a holiday in his boyhood, so the acids of controversy and the sharp edges of strife gave place to expressions tipped with sunshine, when his lips could be beguiled into speaking of what his heart never ceased to feel. My mother! at that holy nameWithin my bossom thre's a gushOf feeling, which time can tame, A feeling which for years of fameI would t, could t crush! About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art techlogy to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.