came to England, and settled first in Liverpool, and then in Manchester.  She married Michael Forrester, a stonemason, and had five children.  It was quite evident there was a poetic strain in the Magennis blood, for two of her daughters, and her son Arthur, inherited the gift, which her brother Bernard also possessed.  She produced “Simple Strains” and (in conjunction with her son Arthur) “Songs of the Rising Nation,” and other poems.  She was a frequent contributor to the English press, her work being much appreciated.

Arthur Forrester, whose release we were trying to effect, was, at this time, only nineteen years old, though he looked much older.  Besides the poetic strain which he inherited from his mother, he must also have had that fiery and unconquerable spirit which displayed itself in the determined resistance he made against the police who came to arrest him in 1867, in Dublin, where he had found his way for the projected rising.  He was a young Revolutionist truly—­being then only seventeen.  He was not long kept in prison that time, there being no evidence to connect him with Fenianism, nor, indeed, was there now, when he had fallen into the hands of the police in Liverpool, though they were doing their best to manufacture some.

His warlike proclivities seem to have been ever uppermost, as will be seen later, where we find him joining the French “Foreign Legion” during the Franco-Prussian War.  Besides the “Songs of the Rising Nation” in connection with his mother, he produced “An Irish Crazy Quilt,” prose and verse, and was a frequent contributor to the “Irish People” and other papers over the signature of “Angus” and “William Tell.”

It is too bad of me to be keeping poor Arthur in durance vile while I am going into these particulars; but I want to show what kind of people these Forresters were, and what the rebelly Ulster Magennis strain in their blood let them into.

Together, Davitt and I called upon several Liverpool Irishmen to get bail for Forrester.  There was no difficulty—­we could easily get the necessary security; but, name after name, good, substantial bail, was refused by the police on one pretence or another.

Ultimately, on Christmas Eve, when the prisoner was again brought before the stipendiary magistrate, Mr. Raffles, a very just and high-minded man, Dr. Commins, barrister, acting for Forrester, claimed that no charge, but a mere matter of suspicion, being forthcoming against him, the bail offered should be accepted.  The magistrate agreed to accept two sureties of L100 each, “to keep the peace for one year,” and Arthur Forrester was released.

It is interesting to know that while one of the bails was William Russell, a patriotic Irishman, having an extensive business, the other was Arthur Doran, a wholesale newsagent.  He was a decent Irishman, of Liverpool birth, who took no part in politics.  He had been induced to go bail by one of the greatest scoundrels Ireland ever produced—­Richard Pigott, Doran being an agent for Pigott’s papers, the “Irishman” and “Flag of Ireland.”  Let this one good act, at all events, be put down to Pigott’s credit.