On one occasion Mr. Parnell was invited by the Liverpool branches to a St. Patrick’s Day banquet at the Adelphi Hotel, where the drinking of the “loyal” toast was part of the programme.  With the rest of the committee I met him at the railway station on his arrival, and came with him to the hotel.  After some conversation I was bidding him “good-night!” when he asked, as he took my hand, “Where are you going, Denvir?  Are you not going to stay for the banquet?” I had not intended mentioning it, but as he asked me so pointedly, I felt bound to tell him my objection to being present.  He did not attempt to controvert what I said, but still asked where I was going.  I then told him I had been invited to a St. Patrick’s celebration where the toast was not to be drunk, the gathering being one of our advanced Nationalist friends.

He at once said “I should like to go there.”  I told him I was sure they would be delighted to see him, and that, as theirs was a dance, and it would be kept up pretty late, I would come back for him after the banquet, and take him to the other celebration.  Our friends were well pleased at his wish to attend, and asked me to go back and bring him to where a hearty cead mile failte awaited him.  In due time I brought him over, and they gave him an enthusiastic reception, he being quite as delighted to be present as they were to receive him, and they were still more pleased when he addressed a few words to them.

But that was as far as Parnell would go, and his answer to Davitt that day at St. Helens pretty well indicated the course he intended to pursue in connection with the cause of Ireland.

Indeed, it is on record that in later years Michael Davitt altered his own view to such an extent that he would no longer have made that proposition to Parnell.

There was no man whose regard I more valued than that of Michael Davitt.  Amongst all the vicissitudes of Irish politics our friendship was an unbroken one.  He was little more than a boy when I first met him at a small gathering to which none but the initiated were admitted.  From the first I was strongly drawn towards that tall, dark-complexioned, bright-eyed, modest youth, with his typical Celtic face and figure.  He was in company with Arthur Forrester, who was a fluent speaker and writer, and who on this occasion did most of the talking, Davitt only throwing in some shrewd remark from time to time.  We know since that he had in him the natural gift of oratory, though it was not that so much as other qualities which gave him the commanding position in Irish politics which he afterwards reached.

He had then spent several of the best years of his life in penal servitude for his connection with the physical force movement.  Thinking long and hard in the solitude of his prison cell, Davitt resolved that the first vital need of Ireland was to plant firmly in the soil of Ireland the people who were being uprooted—­in other words, the land system must be changed.