somewhat farther than the solicitor-general found it advantageous to go.  I have done it to demonstrate that there is a truer reason than that alleged by the crown in this case for the state of war—­for unhappily that is what it is—­which prevails between the people of Ireland and the laws under which they now live.  And now apply all this to the present case, and judge you my guilt—­judge you the guilt of those whose crime, indeed, is that they do not love and respect law and government as they are now administered in Ireland.  Gentlemen, the present prosecution arises directly out of what is known as the Manchester tragedy.  The solicitor-general gave you his version, his fanciful sketch of that sad affair; but it will be my duty to give you the true facts, which differ considerably from the crown story.  The solicitor-general began with telling us about “the broad summer’s sun of the 18th September” (laughter).  Gentlemen, it seems very clear that the summer goes far into the year for those who enjoy the sweets of office; nay, I am sure it is summer “all the year round” with the solicitor-general while the present ministry remain in.  A goodly golden harvest he and his colleagues are making in this summer of prosecutions; and they seem very well inclined to get up enough of them (laughter).  Well, gentlemen, I’m not complaining of that, but I will tell you who complain loudly—­the “outs,” with whom it is midwinter, while the solicitor-general and his friends are enjoying this summer (renewed laughter).  Well, gentlemen, some time last September two prominent leaders of the Fenian movement—­alleged to be so at least—­named Kelly and Deasy, were arrested in Manchester.  In Manchester there is a considerable Irish population, and amongst them it was known those men had sympathisers.  They were brought up at the police court—­and now, gentlemen, pray attentively mark this.  The Irish executive that morning telegraphed to the Manchester authorities a strong warning of an attempted rescue.  The Manchester police had full notice—­how did they treat the timely warning sent from Dublin; a warning which, if heeded, would have averted all this sad and terrible business which followed upon that day?  Gentlemen, the Manchester police authorities scoffed at the warning.  They derided it as a “Hirish” alarm.  What!  The idea of low “Hirish” hodmen or labourers rescuing prisoners from them, the valiant and the brave!  Why, gentlemen, the Seth Bromleys of the “force” in Manchester waxed hilarious and derisive over the idea.  They would not ask even a truncheon to put to flight even a thousand of those despised “Hirish;” and so, despite specific warning from Dublin, the van containing the two Fenian leaders, guarded by eleven police officers, set out from the police office to the jail.  Now, gentlemen, I charge on the stolid vain gloriousness in the first instance, and the contemptible pusilanimity in the second instance, of the Manchester police—­the valiant Seth Bromleys—­all that followed.  On