Trinity College in the time of the United Irishmen.

**

JOHN EDWARD WALSH.**

(1816-1869.)

John Edward Walsh, the author of ‘Ireland Sixty Years Ago,’ was the son of the Rev. Robert Walsh, a well-known Irish writer of the early part of the nineteenth century, and was born on Nov. 12, 1816. His father was at the time rector of Finglas, County Dublin, and he was not improbably born at that place.

He was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, graduating in 1836. Three years later he was called to the bar, and during his early years of practice found time to write frequently for The *Dublin University Magazine *and to edit a few law books. In the periodical just mentioned portions of the book afterward anonymously printed as ‘Ireland Sixty Years Ago’ first appeared.

His great success at the bar, however, prevented him from devoting much time to literature. In 1857 he became a Queen’s Counsel, in 1866 Attorney-General, and in 1867 Master of the Rolls. He died in Paris, Oct. 25, 1869. The book by which he is chiefly known was published in 1847 and was subsequently reprinted as ‘Ireland Ninety Years Ago.’

 SOME COLLEGE RECOLLECTIONS.

From ‘Ireland Sixty Years Ago.’

I entered college in the year 1791, a year rendered memorable by the institution of the society of the United Irishmen. They held their meetings in an obscure passage called Back-lane, leading from Corn Market to Nicholas Street. The very aspect of the place seemed to render it adapt for cherishing a conspiracy. It was in the locality where the tailors, skinners, and curriers, held their guilds, and was the region of the operative democracy.

I one evening proceeded from college, and found out Back-lane, and having inquired for the place of meeting, a house was pointed out to me, that had been the hall in which the corporation of tailors held their assemblies. I walked in without hesitation-no one forbidding me and found the society in full debate, the Hon. Simon Butler in the chair. I saw there, for the first time, the men with the three names, which were now become so familiar to the people of Dublin - Theobald Wolfe Tone, James Napper Tandy, Archibald Hamilton Rowan.

The first was a slight effeminate looking man, with a hatchet face, a long aquiline nose, rather handsome and genteel looking, with lank, straight hair combed down on his sickly red cheek, exhibiting a face the most insignificant and mindless that could be imagined. His mode of speaking was in correspondence with his face and person. It was polite and gentlemanly, but totally devoid of anything like energy or vigor. I set him down as a worthy, good-natured, flimsy man, in whom there was no harm, and as the least likely person in the world to do mischief to the state.

Tandy was the very opposite looking character. He was the ugliest man I ever gazed on. He had a dark, yellow, truculent-looking countenance, a long drooping nose, rather sharpened at the point, and the muscles of his face formed two cords at each side of it. He had a remarkable hanging-down look, and an occasional twitching or convulsive motion of his nose and mouth, as if he was snapping at something on the side of him while he was speaking.

Not so Hamilton Rowan. I thought him not only the most handsome, but the largest man I had ever seen. Tone and Tandy looked like pigmies beside him. His ample and capacious forehead seemed the seat of thought and energy; while with such an external to make him feared, he had a courtesy of manner that excited love and confidence. He held in his hand a large stick, and was accompanied by a large dog.

I had not been long standing on the floor, looking at and absorbed in the persons about me, when I was perceived, and a whisper ran round the room. Some one went up to the president, then turned round, and pointed to me. The president immediately rose, and called out that there was a stranger in the room. Two members advanced, and taking me under the arm, led me up to the president’s chair, and there I stood to await the penalty of my unauthorized intrusion.

I underwent an examination; and it was evident, from the questions, that my entrance was not accredited, but that I was suspected as a government spy. The “battalion of testimony” as it was called, was already formed, and I was supposed to be one of the corps. I, however, gave a full and true account of myself, which was fortunately confirmed by a member who knew something about me, and was ultimately pronounced a harmless “gib,” and admitted to the honor of the sitting…

Revolutionary principles began to spread in college, and an incident happened which excited much indignation even among the most loyal. A little previous to the departure of the highly unpopular Lord Camden from the viceroyalty of Ireland, it was announced that the college, in their corporate capacity, intended to proceed to the Castle, and present an address to him.

All the fellows and scholars, as members of the Corporation were especially summoned to attend, and generally obeyed the notice. Two scholars, named Power and Ardagh, absented themselves, and when cited before the board, made some trifling excuse. One said he had no gown at the time, and could not borrow one; the other that he was preparing his lecture, and thought it a more important occupation.

It appeared, however, that the board had received some secret information that their absence was caused by disaffection, and that they were connected with secret treasonable societies then reported to exist in college. It was thought necessary to make an example; so Power and Ardagh were publicly expelled.

There had been a difference of opinion on this measure at the board. Dr. Browne, a senior fellow, and member for the University in Parliament, not only dissented from the severe measure adopted by the board, but was so indiscreet as to mention his dissent to some of the students, as he came out of the board room.

Greater importance was attached to this circumstance at that time, for the proceedings of the board were then kept profoundly secret. The two men expelled were of good character, acknowledged talents, and popular manners. Their case excited much sympathy. Their expulsion was considered a very harsh measure, altogether disproportioned to the declared offense, and was generally much condemned.

During this ebullition of collegiate feeling, my extern friend, O’Tundher, came to my rooms. He could hardly speak with rage. When his indignation a little subsided, he proposed that he and I should form a committee, and in the name of more, express our sentiments on the occasion. The proposal amused me, so I sent to the cellar for some “October” - a beverage of which he was fond-and, under its influence, we drew out what we called the resolutions of the “Independent Scholars and Students of Trinity College, Dublin.”

When w& had read and criticised the precious document, I threw it on the table, supposing it would lie there, like the embryo constitutions we had drawn up for the provisional government, and, like them, have no more important result than the entertainment of the hour.

A short time after, a notice appeared on the college gate, announcing a visitation to be held on Thursday, April 19, 1798, enjoining the attendance without fail, of all the members of the University. I was reading it when my friend, O’Tundher, passed out. He held down his head, but cast at me a significant glance of intelligence under his eye, and holding his middle finger against his thumb, he cracked them with the forefinger, making a report like the lashing of a whip a mode he had of expressing more than usual glee and satisfaction.

Immediately afterwards I met a lad named E—. He came up to me in great apparent tribulation, and asked me if I knew the cause of the visitation. I declared with truth I did not know it. He began to express himself with great anxiety, and with a confidence altogether gratuitous and unsought on my part; telling me he was deeply compromised, and in hourly expectation of being arrested.

He expected some confidential communication in return, and was much disappointed when I declared I had no cause of apprehension, and left him, repeating, “Let the galled jade wince, my withers are unwrung.” In fact, I had abstained carefully from mixing myself with parties, and felt a perfect security from any charge, or even suspicion. I afterwards had reason to believe my reserve towards E— was most fortunate.

On the day of the visitation we all assembled in the hall. Lord Clare, as vice-chancellor of the University, sat as the acting visitor, with Dr. Duigenan as his assessor, on an elevated platform at the upper end of the dining-hall, then followed in order the provost, senior and junior fellows, and scholars, as members of the corporation; then the graduate and undergraduate students; and lastly, the inferior officers and porters of the college.

The great door was closed with a portentous sound, and shut in many an anxious heart; I felt mine, however, quite free from care or apprehension. Those who have seen Lord Clare in his visitorial capacity never will forget him-the hatchet sharpness of his countenance, the oblique glance of his eye, which seemed to read what was passing in the mind of him to whom it was directed. Silence was commanded, and the multitude was still. The vice-chancellor then said:-

The prevalent reports respecting the state of the University had induced the visitors to inquire whether the disaffection imputed to the college was founded in reality, or was a mere rumor or surmise. Appointed to the high office of superintending the conduct, and promoting the welfare of that college, he should neglect an important duty, if he were to suffer it to continue stained with the infamous imputation of disaffection and rebellion, if unfounded, or permit any guilty member thereof to poison and destroy the prospects of the uninfected. His duty, therefore, to what he considered the happiness of the students, without referring to the more general consequence to society, from the lettered portion of the rising generation cherishing and acting on those devastating principles which had destroyed the peace, and almost annihilated the morals of Europe, indispensably required of him to investigate and suppress any serious disorders. He found great probability had been given to the reports in circulation by a rebellious publication, purporting to be the resolution of the independent scholars and students of the University and it behooved all who heard him to acquit themselves of any concern therein. Such members as acted with want of candor, and refused to exonerate themselves from the treasonable charge made against the University, and which the abominable paper he held in his hand so much warranted, he was determined to remove, and adopt the necessary measures to prevent them from contaminating the youth of the several colleges in England and Scotland, by representing to the governors of them their dangerous principles, and so exclude them from admission. In one of those secret societies, the formation of which he knew of in college, a system of assassination had been recommended, and a proposal made to collect arms. The first proposal was considered, but adjourned to the next meeting, when it was negatived by a small majority. The second was carried and acted on. He concluded by a declaration of his intention to punish with severity the encouragers and abettors of sedition and treason, and more especially the miscreant authors of that wicked paper, whom he was determined to detect and punish. It had not only been thrown into every letter-box in college, but audaciously flung at his own head, in his house, by way of menace and defiance.

He read the “infamous” paper, and to my utter horror and dismay, it proved to be my own “RESOLUTION!” I was at the time standing close to him. My seniority had placed me near that end of the hall, but my curiosity and the crowd behind had pushed me even higher than I was entitled to by my standing; and when he held the paper in his hand, and waved it in a threatening manner, he actually seemed to shake it in my face, and fix his eye intently on me as the detected victim.

It is impossible to describe my feelings of astonishment at my own indiscretion, or my apprehension of the consequences. I had no more notion that the resolutions that we had framed would ever see the light, than that the constitutions we had drawn up would be adopted by the provisional government.

I saw myself at once entangled in an awful responsibility, which might compromise my life, and I had not even the support of enthusiasm or participation in what some might think a noble cause. I had been fabricating a falsehood without foundation, in which I actually felt neither interest nor concern, and was in danger of suffering the penalty of a traitor, without having the least connection with the treason.

When I contemplated the number it might implicate in suspicion, and the confusion and misery it might cause, I felt as if I had pulled down the pillars of the earth, and the fragments were falling on my head. When I recovered a little from the first stun of surprise, I attempted to converse with the person next me, as if to show my unconcern, but literally *vox faucibus hoesit, *my mouth was so dry, I could not utter a syllable.

It next rushed into my mind to escape from the hall, but I saw at once that this would surely cause suspicion. Once it occurred to me to anticipate discovery, and avail myself of the lenity which the visitors had intimated would be extended to those who confessed their faults and abjured their errors-to acknowledge my share in the authorship, and make a merit of confessing a thing, the detection of which I thought must be immediate and inevitable. But my final and enduring determination was to “bide my time,” and bear up, as best I could, against all consequences.

The roll was now called of all the names on the college books, beginning with the provost. Several excuses were offered for absence, some few of which were admitted, but in almost every case personal attendance was insisted on. Among the absent was Robert Emmet, for whom his tutor pleaded hard, but without effect. He was set down as contumacious.

When the examination of individuals commenced, each person, when called on, was first sworn to discover all matters as to which he should be questioned. The provost was the first examined. Among other questions, he was asked if the copy of that paper which had been “hurled at” the chancellor, had been sent to him. He replied that it had, and by the same conveyance - the penny post. He was also interrogated with respect to the proceedings of the board in the expulsion of Power and Ardagh, and the number and description of the votes given on the occasion.

The examination then proceeded through the senior fellows, till it came down to Dr. Browne. He was, as I have mentioned, a member of the board, and represented the college in parliament. His politics were in the extreme of liberality, and therefore he was an object of peculiar suspicion.

He was questioned touching his vote at the board in the case of Ardagh and Power. He acknowledged he opposed their expulsion, and voted for rustication during a year, and stated that there were two other members of the board who voted with him. He admitted that he had gone from the board into the college court, and there declared the vote he had given, and said he did so because he thought it was right.

The vice-chancellor declared that the conduct of Dr. Browne was highly reprehensible; and that it promoted a spirit of insubordination among the students, by exciting discontent against the proceedings of the board, which it was his duty to recommend as just and proper; and that if the board had thought fit to expel him for such conduct, he would have confirmed the expulsion.

Dr. Browne was also asked if he was the author of that paper, and when he denied it in a most earnest manner, he was asked did he know any person who was its author, or had any connection with it. He, of course, declared he did not.

Dr. Whitley Stokes, then a junior fellow, was next called on. The vice-chancellor, eying him with a stern countenance, and with the confidence of a person who was sure of his man, asked him, in an emphatic manner, if he knew of United Irish Societies existing in college. Stokes answered decidedly, “No.?’ The vice-chancellor looked much amazed by the unexpected repulse, and a slight murmur of surprise ran through the hall. The paper was held out to Stokes, and, in a similar manner he was asked if he knew anything of the authorship of it; and, in a similar tone, and to the surprise of all (except myself), he denied all knowledge of it or its authors.

The exceeding candor of Stokes and his love of truth induced all to believe that he would at once declare whatever he knew, when asked, and many thought that he knew much. He was then asked if he knew anything of secret or illegal societies in college. He answered promptly and without hestitation, that he did. He was then called on to explain and declare what they were.

“The only societies of that description, which I am aware of,” said he, “are Orange Societies, and I know some members of them.”

If the chancellor had been struck a violent blow, he could not have shown more surprise and indignation. He actually started on his seat at the audacious sincerity of this simple-minded man, and another murmur ran through the hall.

A long examination ensued, during which Dr. Stokes answered the questions put to him in a quiet and dignified manner, and with perfect candor and simplicity. He admitted that he had been a member of the society of United Irishmen before the year 1792, when their views were confined to legitimate objects; but stated that he was wholly unconnected with them ever since that time. He admitted that he had since that time subscribed money to their funds, but added that it was merely to supply the necessities of individuals-Butler and Bond, who were in prison.

He had, he said, received some account of serious injuries inflicted on a village by the soldiery, which he communicated to Mr. Sampson, a United Irishman, as materials for Lord Moira’s information, on his motion in the House of Lords, but had previously made a communication to his excellency the lord lieutenant.

He admitted he had visited a man who was a treasonable character, but he did so as a professional duty, as the man was very poor and sick; and he had always brought with him a third person, to be present, lest there should he any misrepresentation of his motives. He added, that when the French invaded this country, and their fleets were lying off the shore, he went among the Roman Catholics of the city of Dublin, exciting them to take up arms against the common enemy:- “This my lord,” said Stokes, in an emphatic manner, “was not the conduct of a disaffected man, nor of one entertaining those principles with which this examination appears to try to connect me.”

A Mr. Kerns, a pupil of Dr. Stokes, stood forward, and earnestly defended his tutor. He said that temptations had been held out to him to join treasonable societies, and had so far succeeded as to induce him to withdraw his name from the college corps; but in consequence of the advice and earnest persuasion of Dr. Stokes, he had withdrawn himself from the society of the disaffected, and replaced his name in his company; and that he was not the only person so advised by Dr. Stokes, but that, to his knowledge, several others had been equally influenced in the same way by his persuasions.

Dr. Graves With similar earnestness and zeal, bore testimony to Stokes’ character. He said that atheism and republicanism were uniformly connected at that time, but that he had the strongest proof, from his writings, that Dr. Stokes was tainted with neither the one nor the other. When Paine’s ‘Age of Reason’ first appeared, the earliest and best answer to it was from the pen of Dr. Stokes. His work was dedicated to the students of Trinity College, and was published without any view of pecuniary profit by Dr. Stokes, who gratuitously made earnest and indefatigable exertions to disseminate it among the junior members of the University.

Many others entered their testimony in favor of a man so much loved and respected; and the vice-chancellor said he was happy to find so many respectable and disinterested witnesses standing forward in Dr. Stokes’s favor, and that he was now convinced he was a well-meaning man, but had been led into great indiscretions.

The examination proceeded among the scholars and students. The most lengthy was the examination of a man named Robinson. When pressed with questions, he admitted that he had lent his rooms on a particular day, but was not aware of the purpose for which they were borrowed. He, however, at last confessed that he was aware that the meeting to be held there was of a disaffected nature. He hesitated and wavered much when pressed by the chancellor’s and Duigenan’s questions.

A growing disposition was soon manifested to decline taking the oath of discovery in the unqualified form in which it had been at first administered. Of those called on, some declared they were ready to swear as to themselves, and purge their character by an oath from any charge or suspicion of disaffection, but would not swear to inform against or implicate others by answering *all *questions put to them. Others declined being sworn, because, as they said, it would be an example subversive of the best acknowledged principles of the English law and of justice, to swear to tell what might criminate themselves.

The first day closed with about 50 recusants, who declined to take the oath, and were marked for expulsion as contumacious. On the second day of the visitation, the chancellor found it necessary to modify the examination in such a way as to give the recusants an opportunity of redeeming their contumacy. He indicated what would be the awful state of the University if so large a proportion of its members should appear to be implicated in the conspiracy; and he explained that the visitation was a domestic court, in which the students formed members of a family, and that the authority exercised was merely parental; that the same oath was administered to all-to the provost himself and to the youngest student-and was always accompanied by an injunction not to criminate themselves.

The chancellor also indicated that these persons would come forward and confess their own errors, without reference to others, and promise to separate themselves altogether from their imprudent and dangerous connections, the past should be forgiven and forgotten.

Among those who at first refused to take the oath was Thomas Moore. He was then an undergraduate in college, and already distinguished by the early and juvenile indications of his poetic talents. The scene was amusing. The book was presented to him. He shook his head and declined to take it. It was thrust into his right hand. He hastily withdrew the hand, as if he was afraid of its being infected by the touch, and placed it out of the way behind his back. It was then presented to his left hand, which he also withdrew, and held behind his back with his right. Still the persevering book was thrust upon him, and still he refused, bowing and retreating, with his hands behind him, until he was stopped by the wall. He afterwards, however took the oath, as modified by the explanation, acquitted himself of all knowledge of treasonable practices or societies in college, and was dismissed without further question.

Influenced by the visitor’s explanation, many, who had been contumacious, came forward and confessed their errors. In a few instances the names of the persons implicated were insisted on; but for the most part, the information was given in such a general way as to assist in suppressing the evil of disaffection, without compromising individuals. It appeared that there were four committees of United Irishmen in college, the secretaries to which were said to be Robert Emmet, M’Laughlin, Flynn, and Corbett, junior.

In the course of the second day, Dr. Browne made an earnest and deprecating appeal to the visitors, in explanation of his conduct, declaring that their condemnation of it would embitter his future life. The vice-chancellor expressed himself satisfied that, had Dr. Browne known the entire extent of the revolutionary practices to which some members of the college had proceeded, he would have taken every means in their suppression, and not have proclaimed his vote and dissent from the salutary measures of the board; and that his doing so arose from his total ignorance of the dangerous situation of the University.

Browne expressed strongly his contrition for his conduct, and with a servility little according with the independent spirit he was supposed to possess, humbled himself before the vice-chancellor, declaring his deep sorrow for having incurred the censure of the visitors.

At the conclusion of the visitation, the chancellor adverted to the case of Dr. Stokes. He declared himself gratified to find that the rumor of an eminent member of the University having been connected with a treasonable association, was entirely refuted; but, nevertheless, as he had been drawn into a communication with persons who were inimically disposed to the government of the country, he thought it his duty to prevent him from becoming a governing member of the University for the space of three years, which would be the period until the next visitation.

During his suspension, it would be seen whether that gentleman had wholly withdrawn himself from the dangerous and improper connections in which he had become indiscreetly entangled. He expressed himself gratified at being able to bear testimony to the general good conduct of the youth of the University. He reiterated his assurance that he had positive information of the existence of societies where assassination was canvassed and arms collected, and which he pledged himself he would have been able to prove, had those who contumaciously absented themselves, or refused to be examined, submitted. He expressed his concern at the duty imposed on him of using severity against the few who had acted with determined obstinacy, or were committed by acts of sedition and treason. He then presented nineteen names of persons for whose offenses he recommended expulsion.

Lord Clare’s direction was immediately acted upon, and the sentence of expulsion was pronounced and executed by the board.

Among the disorders which the political excitement had caused was one serious evil-a propensity to dueling. One of the young men previously expelled – Ardagh - supposing that a man named M’Carthy had given secret information to the board against him, immediately branded him as an informer, and sent him a hostile message. They met and exchanged four shots, but parted without reconciliation or concession on either side.

The examination of Robinson, even during the sitting of the visitation, led to angry recrimination, which went as far as blows, and would have ended in a hostile meeting but for the interference of the college authorities. This bitter spirit had broken out in various other duels.

The occasion for these disorders was submitted to the vice-chancellor, and his direction asked, whether a challenge or a duel was to be punished with expulsion. He replied, that whatever allowance might be made for young men forgetting their academic in their military character, yet he would think it right, on the first duel that should again occur, to recommend the lord lieutenant to disband the college corps; but he hoped that as all faction was now crushed within the college walls, all cause for such encounters would cease also. He recommended all gownsmen to avoid collisions with the citizens, and ended with an extraordinary promise, that if a gownsman were offered any insult, he would take up the case at his own expense, and make such an example of the offender as would prevent a repetition of the offense.

The visitation, which had lasted three days, at length concluded, and the visitors retired amid the plaudits and acclamations of the assembled students.

The impression left on the minds of the auditory by the conduct of Dr. Browne and Dr. Stokes was very different indeed. They saw the latter standing, like Teneriffe or Atlas, unmoved by the assault made upon him; the former bending and yielding with a weak subserviency, ill according with the independent spirit he was before supposed to possess.

The distrust excited by his conduct showed itself at the next election for the college. The then very unpopular measure of the Union was suspected to be in agitation, though not yet declared, and a test was put to Browne, whether, in the event of the measure being proposed, he would oppose it. Instead of declaring his determination in a manly manner, he affected displeasure at the suspicion implied by singling him out to take the test.

When pressed for an explicit answer he at length, after much evasion, declared that he saw no case in which he would vote for a union with England, except it was proposed as an alternative for a union with France.

It was on this occasion that John Walker stood up and with that strange pronunciation by which he always substituted w for *r, *surprised us by saying

• “If Iwland lose hew libewty and independence, and we awe to be depwived of ouw wights and pwivileges, it is a mattew of no gweat consequence who awe to be ouw mastews.”

I did not learn, until after the visitation was over, some circumstances about it. It seems my friend, O’Tundher, had returned to my rooms, and carried off the paper we had composed. He had altered and interpolated many passages, and immediately had five hundred copies of it printed, and with his own hand disseminated them through college.

The circumstance which to me rendered the visitation so extraordinary was, that in the searching scrutiny which took place, and lasted three days, a principal delinquent – fons et origo mali - was never called on or suspected, while his fellow-students all around him were arraigned for offending by a publication in which they had neither hand nor part.

It taught me a painful lesson of caution, to see the University disturbed, its character compromised, its members endangered, some even expelled form its walls and scattered in exile, and all this perhaps traceable to the silly and idle production of a giddy student and woolen-draper’s shopman.

There is no doubt that much secret information had been given previous to the visitation. A principal agent in collecting it was said to be E—, who had accosted me in the courts the day previously, and whom I had providentially evaded, without having at the time the slightest suspicion of his motive.

Others, into whose confidence he wormed himself, were not so fortunate; and it was reported that through his instrumentality many were implicated. He afterwards obtained a commission in the army. He had entered college as a sizar, and from being an obscure and shabby-looking lad, he emerged from college in full uniform, which he was fond of displaying in the most public streets as long as he remained in Dublin.

Among the expelled men, the most remarkable was Robert Emmet. Those whom I was most intimate with were two brothers of the name of Corbett. The elder was a low, smart little man, a lieutenant in the college corps; the other was tall and delicate, of a mild disposition, and very pleasing manners; he was a sergeant in the corps. Immediately afterwards they went to France, and obtained corn-missions in the French service; and, I believe, one of them joined in the expedition to Ireland in which Wolfe Tone was captured.

The line-of-battle-ship in which Tone embarked, and six of the French frigates, were taken. Two escaped, in one of which was Corbett. He afterwards perished on the field of battle. The other brother met, in France, Sweeney, one of the United Irishmen who had been confined in Fort George; they had a quarrel and fought. After one of the most desperate duels on record, in which they exchanged eight shots, Corbett, who, even after he was wounded, refused all reconciliation, was shot through the heart.

After the visitation, I did not meet my coadjutor in political composition until the evening of the intended insurrection in Dublin-the memorable 23d of May, 1798. On the morning of that day, I received a pressing invitation from my sister, who then lived in Buckingham Street, to join her family, that we might, as she said “all die together.”

I set out in the evening for her house. The streets were silent and deserted; no sound was heard but the measured tread of the different yeomanry corps taking up their appointed stations. The only acquaintance I met abroad was my friend O’Tundher. He accosted me in the street, told me it was dangerous to be out, and pressed me to go home and pass the night with him.

I was little disposed to join in any plan of his again, even if I had had no other engagement, so I declined his offer. While we were talking, we heard the sound of approaching steps, and saw the attorneys’ corps with solemn tread, marching toward us. My companion disappeared down a lane and I walked up to meet them, and when they had passed me, proceeded on my way.

When I reached my sister’s house in Buckingham Street, I found a neighbor had called there, and given to my brother-in-law, who was a clergyman, a handful of ball cartridges, bidding him defend his life as well as he could. So great was their alarm, they had, on parting, taken a solemn leave of each other, as people who never hoped to meet again.

The only weapon of defense in the house was a fowling-piece, which I charged with powder, but found the balls in the cartridges too large for the calibre. The family were persuaded to go to bed, leaving me to keep guard; and with the fowling-piece on my shoulder, and the large ball stuck in the muzzle, I marched up and down until sunrise in the morning.

Meetings of the disaffected were held that night in the Barley fields (as the neighborhood of George’s Church was then called), and on the strand of Clontarf. The design was, to commence the insurrection in Dublin by the rescue of the state prisoners in Newgate and Kilmainham prisons; but the arrest of Neilson prevented the execution of this plan.

More than once, in the still, calm night, I thought I heard the undulating buzz and sound of a crowd, and the regular tread of a mass of men marching, but all else was awfully still.

The companion, my intercourse with whom was marked by such singular results, had many excellent qualities. What I have heard of his subsequent career in life is extraordinary, but I had no opportunity of renewing my acquaintance with him.

General Contents. .