country, history is but the record of black crimes; but if ever this history comes to be fairly written, whatever has yet been held up to the execration of mankind, will fade before it. For it had not happened before, in any country or in any age, to inflict torture and to offer bribe at the same moment. In this bloody reign, the coward and the traitor were sure of wealth and power; the brave and the loyal to suffer death or torture. The very mansion of the viceroy was peopled with salaried denouncers, kept in secret, and led out only for purposes of death. Some of them, struck with remorse, have since published their own crimes, and some have been hanged by their employers.*

disease, neglected by those who had once instigated his enormities.

A sergeant of the North Cork militia, nicknamed Tom the Devil, invented a new torture; it was to cut the hair close to the head in the form of a cross, to place in the furrows a train of gunpowder, and fire it on the victim's head.

Wives, children, parents, sisters were brought to see these tortures inflicted on their nearest relatives, that out of their feelings might be extorted some denunciation, true or false, which the virtue of the sufferer had withheld.

These tortures, it must be remembered, were inflicted not as a punishment for guilt, but as the means of acquiring information; and it is but fair to presume that in the great majority of instances the victims were innocent.

Hyland, who had been half-hanged by Heppenstal, refused to give evidence against a person named Kennedy. He was immediately removed from the table to the dock, tried, convicted, and executed. Neither did his virtue save Kennedy-indeed how could it?-Norbury was the judge. The fate of Jemmy O'Bryen is known to those who have read that valuable piece of Irish history, Curran's life, by his son ; having failed to convict his victims, he was disregarded by his employers, and having killed an old man for calling him an informer, he was given up to the vengeance of the law. The exultation of the mob when this wretch was brought out for execution was horrible. His last moments were embit tered by terrific execrations, and when the drop fell, shout of joy burst from the assembled multitude.

To avoid such scenes, disgraceful to the name of man, and acted in the name of the king and British constitution, on the day abovementioned (the 16th of April, 1798) I embarked in a collier ship for Whitehaven, and was on the following morning arrested on my landing, pursuant to general orders issued to the officers of that port. From hence I was sent to the county gaol of Carlisle, merely because I refused to tell my name; and iny servant, John Russel, of whom I shall have too much reason to speak hereafter, was detained a prisoner in the workhouse at Whitehaven.

Though I never did, nor ever shall fear my enemies, I did not think it wise to brave them at this moment, seeing they had the power of putting me in gaol, from whence the law had no power to set me free; and I therefore passed by the name of Williams, being nearly my name by baptism. Many attempts were made upon my servant to disclose my name, but he refused; and the newspapers of the place were mean enough to publish that he had betrayed me. Happily torture had not then, nor has yet been introduced into England: that may be referred for the future; and those means which have succeeded in overturning the ancient constitutions of Ireland-bribery, corruption, division, torture, religion, and military executionsmay, much sooner than many think, be employed to clear away the ruins of British liberty. And the Irish may, in their turn, be led over to England to repay the benefits they have received.

Whilst in Carlisle, I obtained leave from the magistrates and gaoler to write to the duke of Portland, then secretary of state, requesting earnestly to be sent to trial, if any one had been impudent enough to charge me with any crime. Or, if that justice was not granted, that I might rather remain where I was, than to be again forced amidst the horrors which raged in my own country. But neither the one nor the other of these requests were listened to, and I was sent back again to Dublin with my servant, where we landed on the 5th of May.

It is scarcely worth while to mention the vexations I experienced in Carlisle, they are so eclipsed by the horrors which were to follow. The gaoler, Mr. Wilson, was by profession a butcher. The moment I saw his face I recollected having been present in the Court of King's Bench, during my attendance as a student, when he was sentenced to two years' imprisonment for having kidnapped an old man, and married him by force to a woman, his accomplice. This sentence he had strictly undergone, and so far that fault was expiated; and he was now, for his services at elections for members of parliament, under the special protection of lord Lonsdale, named gaoler of the county prison. Such was the man who celebrated his clemency in accepting of payment for not putting me in irons; and who, when I was with difficulty allowed a bed to repose myself upon, insisted upon sharing it with me. One messenger came from London, another from Dublin; and so averse was the spirit of the people of that country to such proceedings, that the messenger's quarters were surrounded by guards, patrols went round the city, and I could scarcely prevent my rescue. Such was the beginning of that persecution you have desired me to relate so circumstantially.

I was, upon landing in Dublin, taken to the apartments of Mr. Cooke, as it was told me, to be examined. I was locked up some hours, but this gentleman did not think proper to examine me; and he judged well: perhaps, upon examining himself, he thought it best not to examine me.

From hence I was sent under a guard to the Castle tavern, where, night and day, two sentinels were placed in my room. From these sentinels I learned to what atrocious length the brutallicentiousness of the military had been encouraged. A young man of the North Cork militia, whom I had, by civilities, drawn into conversation, frankly regretted the free quarters in Kildare, where, he said, that, amongst other advantages, they had their will of the men's wives and daughters.

I asked him if his officers permitted that; and he answered by a story of one who had ordered a farmer, during the time of the free quarters, to bring him his daughter in four-and-twenty hours, under pain of having his house burned. The young girl had been removed to a neighbouring parish. The father would not be the instrument of his daughter's pollution. And this young soldier assured me he had been one who, by his officer's command, had burned the house of the father. And this was called loyalty to the king and British constitution; and now this crime, with a million of others, is indemnified by law; whilst I, who would rather die than countenance such atrocity, am, without inquiry, dungeoned, proclaimed, pursued, and exiled. And still, great as my wrongs are, they are but as shadows of those of thousands of my countrymen.

On the 7th of May I was taken, with a long procession of prisoners, all strangers to me, to Bridewell, where I was doomed to suffer what honest men must ever expect when in the power of those whose crimes they have opposed. In Bridewell I was locked up in dismal solitude for many months.

I cannot help mentioning, before I go further, the extraordinary appearance of Mr. Cooke's office in the Castle. It was full of those arms which had been at different times, and in various parts of the country, wrested from the hands of the unfortunate peasants. They were chiefly pikes of a most rude workmanship, and forms the most grotesque: green crooked sticks cut out of the hedges, with long spikes, nails, knives, or scythe blades fastened on the end of them, very emblematical of the poverty and desperation of these unhappy warriors; and showing, in a strong light, the wonderful effects of despair, and the courage it inspires. Never did human eyes behold so curious an armoury as this secretary's office.

LETTER II.

M'Dougall-Trevor-Torture-Notice of Trial.

I

THE first occurrence in Bridewell which gave me pleasure was a notice of trial, served upon me in due form. I thought my enemies now committed past retreat, and I vainly anticipated the triumph I should have in their confrontation and confusion. I feared neither corrupt judges, packed juries, hired witnesses, treacherous advocates, nor terror-struck friends. I was all-sufficient for myself against such hosts. I had no need of defence, but had much of accusation to bring forth. I had committed no murders nor treasons. had burned no houses, nor tortured no free men. I asked no absolution in acts of parliament, passed in one session to indemnify the crimes of the preceding one, I had legally and loyally defended the acknow ledged rights of my countrymen. I had opposed myself with honest firmness to the crimes of arson, treason, murder, and torture; and rather than my countrywomen should be deflowered, I was ready, as it was my duty, to defend them with my life. I had done more; for when the boiling indignation of the people pointed to self-preservation, through individual retaliation, I had spent sleepless nights to save the lives of those who, after so many years of vengeance, seem still to hunt for mine. But think not, my friend, that I should ever condescend to make a merit of this to those despicable men. The principle of my actions was too pure to be in any way connected with their degraded persons.

During the time that I was locked up in secret, my servant had found protection in the house and service of Mr. and Mrs. Leeson, with the friendly condition of restoring him to me as soon as I should be set free.