MARGRAVE. 

He did, and had a family.  But all
His children died save one, and then his wife. 
And so he hither came to change the scene. 
Bolton, just widowed then, received his friend
With more than brother’s kindness, for their griefs
Bound them, like ties of soul, in sympathy. 
De Vere was ill, and, with his motherless babe,
He found in Bolton’s home the rest he sought. 
And there he died, and left his little daughter
To his friend’s guardian care; and to his will
A codicil annexed, unknown to Bolton,
That gave him all if Isabelle should die
Before she reached the age of twenty-one,
And die unmarried.

GODFREY. 
She is dead, then?

                    MARGRAVE. 

She is.  Her life was like the early rose,
That bears th’ frost in its heart.  The bud is fair;
The strength to bloom is wanting; so it dies
But come, we shall be late.

GODFREY. 
What crowds are going! 
And Irishmen!—­Are these so fond of Justice?

                    MARGRAVE. 

Ay; where they feel she holds an even scale,
And is the friend alike of rich and poor,
They yield a prompt obedience, and become
Americans.  Our motto is—­“The law.”

          
                                                              [Exeunt.

* * * *

SCENE III.—­The Court-room.  A crowd of people. PRISONER in the dock.  His Wife, an infant in her arms, and his Sister, both in deep mourning, near him.  LANGDON, counsel for the prisoner; SHERIFF; CLERK of the Court; CRIER of the Court; CONSTABLES. Enter JUDGE BOLTON, followed by two other JUDGES. All take their places on the bench.  Then enter DENNIS and MICHAEL.

            DENNIS (staring at the JUDGE). 

I’ faith, ’tis a purty thing to be a judge,
And sit so high and cool above the crowd. 
And your good master well becomes his seat. 
He looks, for all the world, like Dan O’Connell.

MICHAEL. 
He looks like a better man, and that’s himself. 
I wish he was judge of Ireland.

DENNIS. 
So do I;
And my good masther was her doctor too. 
They’d set the ould country on her legs right soon. 
He’s coming now.
Pointing to DR. MARGRAVE, who is entering,
followed by REV.  PAUL GODFREY.

MICHAEL. 
Who’s with your master? 
He looks as he had mettle in his arm.

DENNIS. 
He is my master’s friend—­a sort o’ priest.

MICHAEL. 
And sure can battle with the fiend himself. 
He looks as strong as Samson.

DENNIS. 
Well for him
Living away in the West, ’mong savages,
And bears, and wolves, and—­