expression for disturbed feelings such as theirs.  The simplest and most usual facilities accorded to murderers and pickpockets on their trial were rudely denied the counsel for the defence.  The principles of law, recognised in England as sacred, were scouted from the bench, and the farce of trial proceeded through its different stages to the final denouement with perfect regularity, every one performing the part assigned him with unerring accuracy.

Of the intrepid ability which struggled against this fearful combination of bigotry, prejudice and passion, at the bar, on the bench and in the box, I do not purpose to speak here.  But I would be unfaithful to my trust, and unjust to the rarest heroism, if I did not record the fortitude and fidelity of O’Donnell, from whom the menaces of the crown, or the frown of the bench, could not wring one word of evidence.  In an ordinary man, this would be singular intrepidity; but circumstanced as O’Donnell was, it amounted to a Roman virtue.  One brother of his, a doctor, was in jail at Liverpool, charged with political felony; another was hunted through the country, and another was in irons, involved in the same charge as the illustrious accused; for them all he could command his own terms, for much depended on his testimony; but though doom were upon them, and a word of his could avert it, he refused to speak.  Honour be his.  His integrity almost cancelled the shame and darkness of those disastrous times.

[Illustration:  The Widow McCormack’s House, near Ballingarry]

I can add nothing to the testimony that established the fortitude, manliness and dignity of the prisoners, as beyond precedent or example.  That their bearing, one and all, was truly noble, friends and foes took pride in attesting.[11] It was a solemn and a glorious sight; and men, through all time, will turn to that Clonmel dock to learn the inestimable and imperishable value of sincere and lofty convictions and a truly heroic soul.

Of the speeches that follow, it will be observed that Mr. O’Brien’s was delivered before the fate of his comrades was known.  No man had ever greater need of vindicating others if not himself.  No man ever possessed in a higher degree the capacity and strength to do so.  He was satisfied it was the last opportunity he would ever have on earth for explanation.  Yet, lest any sentiment of his might injuriously affect those that were then, or might thereafter be on their trial, he forebore to assert the principles of which he was there the martyr, and of which he was more than ever proud.  It was to the same unselfish sentiment he yielded, when consenting to say, “Not guilty,” to a charge he would have felt the greatest glory in avowing.