Our readers need not be surprised at the ingenuity of this plausible petition, for the truth is that before government supported any system of education at all in Ireland, the old hedge school-masters were, almost to a man, office-bearers and leaders in this detestable system.  Such men, and those who were designed for the priesthood, with here and there an occasional poor scholar, were’ uniformly the petition writers, and, indeed, the general scribes of the little world in which they lived.  In fact, we have abundance of public evidence to satisfy us, that persons of considerable literasy attainments have been connected with Ribbonism in all its stages.

This fine writing, however, was unfortunately counteracted, in consequence of the information already laid before the sheriff by no less a personage than Rouser Redhead, who, fearing alike the treachery and enmity of his leader, resolved thus to neutralize any disclosures he should happen to make.  But lest this might not have been sufficient to exhibit the character of that document, the proposal of Bartle himself to make disclosures was transmitted to the Secretary of State, by the same post; so that both reached that gentleman, pari passu, to his no small astonishment.

Had Flanagan’s confederates consulted him, he would of course have dissuaded them from sending any petition at all, or at least, only such as he could approve of, but such is the hollowness of this bond, and so little confidence is placed in its obligation, that when any of its victims happen to find themselves in a predicament similar to Flanagan’s, his companions without lead such a life of terror, and suspicion, and doubt, as it would be difficult to describe.  But when, as in Bartle’s case, there exists a strong distrust in his firmness and honesty, scarcely one can be found hardy enough—­to hold any communication with him.  This easily and truly accounts for the fact of their having got this petition written and sent to government in his name.  The consequence was, that, on the day previous to that named for his execution, his death warrant reached the sheriff, who lost no time in apprising him of his unhappy fate.

This was a trying task to that humane and amiable gentleman, who had already heard of the unutterable tortures which the criminal suffered from the horror of approaching death, and the dread of eternity; for neither by penitence nor even by remorse, was he in the slightest degree moved.

“To die!” said he, staggering back; “to be in eternity to-morrow! to have to face God before twelve o’clock! tarrible! tar—­rible! tarrible!  Can no one save me?  To die to—­morrow!—­tarrible!—­tarrible!—­tarrible!  Oh that I could sink into the earth! that the ground ’ud swlly me!”

The sheriff advised him to be a man, and told him to turn to God,—­who, if he repented, would in no wise cast him out.  “Act,” said he, “as O’Donovan did, whom you yourself prosecuted and placed in the very cell in which you now stand.”