out of the house, under such circumstances of ignominy as he could devise.  What he did next was the blow which broke the poor fellow down.  Patrick had written a letter, in answer to the treatment he had received, in which he expressed his feelings as strongly as one might expect.  This letter was made the ground of a complaint at the police-office; and Patrick was arrested, marched before the magistrate, and arraigned as the sender of a threatening letter to a citizen.  In vain he protested that no idea of threatening anybody had been in his mind.  The letter, as commented on by his employer, was pronounced sufficiently menacing to justify his being bound over to keep the peace towards this citizen and all his family.  The intention was, no doubt, to disgrace him, and put him out of the question as a suitor; for no man could pretend to be really afraid of violence from a candid youth like Patrick, who loved the daughter too well to lift a finger against any one connected with her.  The scheme succeeded; for he believed it had broken his heart.  He supposed himself utterly disgraced in Dublin; and he could live there no longer.  Hence his self-will about going to London.

In addition to this personal, there was a patriotic view.  Very early in our correspondence, Patrick told me that he was a Repealer.  He fancied himself a very moderate one, and likely on that account to do the more good.  Those were the days of O’Connell’s greatest power; or, if it was on the wane, no one yet recognized any change.  Patrick knew one of the younger O’Connells, and had been flatteringly noticed by the great Dan himself, who had approved the idea of his going to London, hoped to see him there some day, and had prophesied that this young friend of his would do great things for the cause by his pen, and be conspicuous among the saviours of Ireland.  Patrick’s head was not quite turned by this; and he lamented, in his letters to me, the plans proposed and the language held by the common run of O’Connell’s followers.  Those were the days when the Catholic peasantry believed that “Repale” would make every man the owner of the land he lived on, or of that which he wished to live on; and the great Dan did not disabuse them.  Those were the days when poor men believed that “Repale” would release every one from the debts he owed; and Dan did not contradict it.  When Dan was dead, the consequence of his not contradicting it was that a literal-minded fellow here and there shot the creditor who asked for payment of the coat, or the pig, or the meal.  For all this delusion Patrick was sorry.  He was sorry to hear Protestant shopmen wishing for the day when Dublin streets would be knee-deep in Catholic blood, and to hear Catholic shopmen reciprocating the wish in regard to Protestant blood.  He was anxious to make me understand that he had no such notions, and that he even thought O’Connell mistaken in appearing to countenance such mistakes.  But still he, Patrick, was a Repealer; and he wished