John M'Dougall, who had been too near a witness of the death of Mr. Patrick Randall M'Donnell, was however reserved for other destinies. He once more found it not imprudent to emigrate, and for this time took refuge in Scotland, where, having unfortunately knocked out the eye of a man, he, in order to wash out this offence, in his zeal for his king and country, and to merit the rewards given to those who forward the recruiting service, swore two of his prosecutors to be deserters from the army, and himself enlisted in the Dumbarton fencibles, to fight in the great cause of the throne and the altar.

On his return from Guernsey, where he had been some years in garrison, he found in Ireland, in a congenial administration, the road to new promotion, and was selected from his corps as the fittest for the office he now held.

You will, perhaps, be curious to know how so finished a politician could have been so much off his guard, as to make these confessions to a prisoner under his care. I myself was much surprised at it; but it seems wisely ordained that some fatality should ever hang upon the rear of enormity, and detection almost ever follow guilt, though often too late for this world's justice. What led to these discoveries was as follows.

Colonel Maxwell,* of the same militia regiment, in whose barracks, and by whose soldiers my servant had been tortured; and one of whose officers (Mr. Colclough) had affirmed that he had found amongst my papers a French general's commission; this colonel, son of a right reverend bishop, had, about this time, made a motion in the House of Commons that the

* Known in the English House of Commons as Colonel Barry, a name which he took on inheriting the Barry estate in Wexford. He is now Lord Farnham, and continues to be conspicuous for intolerant opinions and the advocacy of

violent measures.

prisoners in the civil custody should be taken out and dealt with militarily. I believe, without exaggeration, that this was no less than to say, that we should all be murdered. And it was given to understand, that my life, with that of the rest of the prisoners, should be answerable for the approach of any insurgents towards the prison.

The manner in which the Terrorists of the House of Commons had received this motion, made it plain how many ready instruments there were for such a crime. I therefore attempted to engage Mr. M'Dougall, by his interest, not to take part in such a murder; and I was fortunate enough to surmount every scruple, save the sense of danger to himself, and the additional difficulty of his escaping after being so long proclaimed with a reward for his arrest, and a description published of his person. Thus it was, that balancing between avarice and fear, he deigned to make me this revelation, and favour me with his confidence.

I will, however, before I pass this man of confidence by, give you another characteristic anecdote of him. One day, after a long and rigorous seclusion, he proposed to let me, through special indulgence, go down to amuse myself with another prisoner in the courtyard. So new and so gratifying a permission was not to be refused. He turned the key in the outer door to prevent surprise, and a day or two afterward I missed a number of guineas from a sack which I had always left loose. Upon missing this money I applied to doctor Trevor, who instead of doctor was now in the character of a military inspector of these strong places, and a countercheck upon the humanity of the gaolers. A search was promptly and peremptorily decreed. John M'Dougall was taken by surprise, and in his first flurry discovered that he had twelve guineas stitched up in the waistband of his breeches; but he said it would soon appear clear to every body that they were not my guineas, but his own, as they would

be found mildewed, being the same he had carried with him over the seas to the island of Guernsey, and from thence home again. This assertion, whatever pretensions he might have as an alchemist, proved him but a bad chemist. But there was another stumblingblock. Besides that the guineas were all bright and shining, many of them were coined after the time of his sailing for Guernsey; and besides, they were wrapped up in a morsel of a Dublin journal, which he had brought for me the very day on which he had so kindly let me into the court to take the air. However, he now had time to rally his ingenuity, and deliberately accounted for the whole by saying that his wife had some days ago sold a web of linen to a captain in the regiment, now absent upon duty; that upon the receipt of the price of it, they had counted their common stock together, made a new repartition, and that he had stitched up what fell to his share, as was his military custom, in the waistband of his breeches. I proposed for common satisfaction that the captain should be written to; but it was not done, and Mr. M'Dougall, furbishing up his musket, told one of the prisoners that he would revenge his reputation upon me. that if he was tolerated for robbing me, he would be more than indemnified for murdering me. I therefore proposed peace and the statu quo, which was accepted. But such was the doctor, and such the guardian; the only two beings of my species with whom I was permitted to converse, and that only when the one came his daily rounds as a spy, to see that I received no indulgence; and the other opened my door to give me what was necessary to my existence.

I knew

Once, indeed, there came three gentlemen deputed from the grand jury, to visit me with the other prisoners under notice of trial. They asked me if I had any thing to represent to the court then sitting, or to the jury? I told them that my health was bad, that I requested to be tried, and was ready at a moment's warning. For this intrusion I myself heard the doctor

threaten these grand jurors, and reprove the keeper; for he said that Mr. Cooke alone had the power to dispose of us. I never heard that these grand jurors were whipped-if they were not, I hold them fortunate.

LETTER III.

Lord Cornwallis-Sir Ralph Abercrombie.

AT length, to pass over a world of odious details, came the marquis Cornwallis, bringing words of peace. Civil and military licentiousness were now at their height. You must have heard that when the gallant and respected Abercombie, since dead in the field of honour, was sent to command the army in Ireland, he found it impossible to make head against so much crime and anarchy. The combined efforts of Clare and Carhampton, and the weakness of what they called a strong government, had driven the whole people to rebellion, and made enemies of almost every honest man. The old and respectable magistrates, men of property and reputation in the country, were struck out of the commission of the peace, and foreign mercenaries put into it. The population of whole districts were swept without remorse on board tenders and prison ships, and fathers of families torn from their poor and peaceful cottages, to be sent on board the British fleet, where the tale of their bitter and just complaint was to form the leaven of that fearful event so aptly called Carhampton's mutiny, and which was like to have cost the king of England more than the violence of a million of such men, with their strong governments, could ever do him good. Weak men, they had not minds

to conceive that the only strong government is that which is strong in the confidence and security of the people governed. They called these crimes, dictated by their own petty passions, by the name of " Vigour beyond the law." So Robespierre called his. In short, he and his associates seemed in every thing, except sincerity, to be their model. The difference was, that his cruelties fell chiefly on the rich and great, theirs afflicted the humble and poor. The eloquence of Europe has been exhausted in reprobating his crimes. The mention of theirs is still treason and death. Alas! the advocates of the poor are few, and their reward is ruin. To celebrate successful villany, is the sure road to gain and to preferment. Had I been capable of stooping to such baseness, instead of opposing myself to the unparalleled oppression of my countrymen, those who have persecuted me know, in their own hearts, how open the road of fortune was to me. But nature and a virtuous education had made me differently, and if my conduct has been criminal, I own I am incorrigible; for with all the time and reason I have had for sober reflection, I cannot see in what essential circumstance I could better discharge the duties I owe to God, to my fellow-creatures, and to myself. Prudence might possibly, were the same events to recur, dictate some safer course, but virtue could offer nothing more pure. Nor have I been the dupe of any deceitful hope or passion. I saw but too clearly from the first, how in such a state of things, in attempting to do good, one must expose oneself to mischief, and it is to that settled principle I owe the courage which has been my safety and consolation through so many trials. If it were otherwise, and that I could suppose my conduct criminal, I know of but one way of future remedy for all such evils; that is, that we should hereafter educate our offspring in the contempt of what is generous and honest. You have children my friend, and so have I. Shall we calculate that the times to come will always resemble those we have seen? Shall