Norah was sitting by her father's side as the family were gathered around the fireplace one chilly evening. She was singing that song they loved so well, "The Wearing of the Green."

"I picked some shamrock leaves this morning, and I put them in the big book to press. Can they go in the next letter to Maggie, mother?" asked the little girl, as she finished singing.

She jumped down from her seat and went to a shelf, from which she took the treasure of the family. It was the only book they owned besides their prayer-books.

It told the story of a man loved by every child of Erin,—the story of Daniel O'Connell.

Opening the leaves carefully, Norah took out a spray of tiny leaves. They looked very much like the white clover which is so common in the fields of America. It was a cluster of shamrock leaves, the emblem of Ireland.

"Yes, it shall go to Maggie without fail," said Norah's mother. "It will make her heart glad to see it. The fields behind our cabin will come to her mind, and the goat she loved so well, feeding there. Oh, but she has niver seen Patsy yet!"

"Father, please tell us the story of that great man," said Norah. "I am never tired of hearing it."

Norah pointed to the big book as she spoke. The first money Maggie had sent from America had bought it, so it was doubly precious to every one in the little home.

Daniel O'Connell! What a friend he had been to Ireland! The face of Norah's father grew brighter as he began to tell the story of the brave man who had worked so hard to help his people. But the story-teller first went back in the history of Ireland to a time long before the birth of O'Connell.

The Irish had at last been conquered by England. They had fought against her for four hundred years. It was hard now to have English rulers in the country and to have English lords take their lands away from them.

It was harder still to have these rulers say, "You must worship as we worship. If you remain Catholics, we will punish you."

The hard-hearted Cromwell came to Ireland, bringing a large supply of Bibles, scythes, and firearms. The Bibles were for those who were willing to become Protestants. The firearms were used for killing those who would not give up their religion. The scythes cut down the crops of those who did not happen to get killed and yet held to their faith.

"They shall be starved into obeying my orders," said the stern Cromwell.

As though this were not enough, forty thousand of the Irish people were driven to the seacoast. They were put on board ships and sent to Spain. Never more should they see the Emerald Isle they loved so well.

Weeping and moaning could be heard all through Ireland. But a still more pitiful sight followed. It was a procession of children who had been taken from their homes. They, too, were driven on board ships which were waiting for them. These poor helpless boys and girls were to become slaves on the tobacco plantations of the West Indies.

How their mothers' hearts must have ached! What sobs and groans must have filled many a lonely cottage of Ireland!

One hundred and fifty years passed by. They were hard years, and full of trouble.

Then the people began to whisper to each other, "A real helper has come at last."

It was the young Irishman, Daniel O'Connell, who lived the life of a country boy in a quiet place in Kerry. It was scarcely twenty-five miles from Norah's home.

An old schoolmaster taught Daniel his letters in a little village school. No one noticed the brightness of the boy's mind until long afterward, when he was sent to a college in France. After he had been there a year, the principal began to see he was not like most boys.

"He will be a great man, unless I am much mistaken," he thought. He was not disappointed.

Daniel studied hard and became a lawyer. His chief thought was always, "Ireland! Poor Ireland! How can I help my country?"

He worked early and late. He studied far into the night. He would have little chance as a lawyer unless he became very wise, and was keen and quick in his wits.

For he was a Catholic. That was much against him. The judges in the courts were Protestants and were ready to favour Protestant lawyers.

But O'Connell's heart was full of courage. He did not lose hope for a single moment.

When he began to practise law, he showed every one what a bright mind he had. He was quick to see little mistakes and point them out.

He stayed in the court-room during the whole of a trial. He would not leave it for a minute, even if he had been there many hours. He had lunch brought in to him. He was afraid if he left the court that something might be said he ought to hear.

"He is very bright." "He sees every blunder." "He is a sharp-witted fellow." People began to say things like these. Or, perhaps, some bold Irishman would tell his friend, "England can't have it all her own way much longer. Dan O'Connell will see to that."

Now, while this clever young lawyer was busy in the courts in the daytime, he was doing just as important work in the night.

Evening after evening he met with the friends of Ireland. He talked with them of the best way to help their country.

"But no blood must be shed," he would say again and again. "No blood must be shed. That would be too high a price to pay. Besides, it has been fully tried for hundreds of years, and nothing but bitterness and misery has come of it. And yet the Catholics must have equal rights with the Protestants."

He saw only one way of bringing this about. It was by getting all the people to vote alike. Then the English rulers would see how strong and how much in earnest the Irish people were.

There were years of hard work before Daniel O'Connell was able to bring about any change. At last, however, the government of England was obliged to pass a law giving Catholics the right to vote and hold office the same as Protestants.

It is said that when the king signed the law he was so angry he broke the pen with which it was done, and stamped upon it. But he knew he had to do it, and there was no way out of it.

Daniel O'Connell had won. He was the great Liberator of his religion in Great Britain.

He now tried to gain a separate government for Ireland. But he did not live to finish his work. He was seized with illness. This very time was the beginning of the dreadful famine.

O'Connell could not keep his mind from thinking of the sufferings of his people, and so, of course, he gained no strength. His doctors gave up hope.

The great lawyer and Liberator had but one wish now. He would like to die in Rome under the blessing of the Pope. He did not live long enough to reach the religious capital of the Catholic world, but his heart was preserved and sent there, by his own wish.

His body was sent to Ireland, where there was a grand funeral.

A great monument stands to-day in the city of Dublin. It was built in honour of Ireland's brave helper and true lover, Daniel O'Connell.

It is shaped like the round towers still standing here and there throughout Ireland. They are so old that no one knows when or why they were built. They stand tall and straight and strong and silent. But it seems as though they would say, "Look at us and think of the grand old days of Erin!"

Some people think they were watch-towers from which the enemy could be discovered far away.

When the people wished to build a monument to Daniel O'Connell, they thought nothing would be more proper than a copy of the old watch-towers still standing in the country and reminding every one of the old glories of Ireland.

As Norah's father finished the story, the little girl got up softly and went to a drawer, from which she drew a picture. It was that of a white hound, the dog Daniel O'Connell loved so much.

"Father," she said, putting her arms around his neck, "if you ever see a white hound at the fair in Killarney, please buy it for your little Norah. I will love it tenderly for the sake of that great man."