act of justice to beg, and, if possible, to obtain, forgiveness from a woman whom I have unintentionally injured-whom I have loved so well, that I must once more see her, hear her, and converse with her, though ten thousand deaths awaited on the interview. You now see, Mr. J-, the cause of my not complying with your advice; and, though you should condemn my notions as extravagant, I cannot consent to forego my resolution.'

The Exile now made an offer of his services to bring about the wished-for interview; but Emmet declined implicating his friend; and it was finally agreed that he and I should venture into Dublin on this very romantic business.

The lady to whom my poor friend was so enthusiastically attached was the youngest daughter of the cele brated Curran; and, if report may be credited, she was every way worthy of the affection of a heart so fond, so gentle, and so noble, as that of Robert Emmet.

The Exile having assured us that for the present there was no occasion to remain in our concealment, insisted on our accompanying him to Elmgrove; promising, at the same time, that proper persons should be placed at a distance to watch the approach of strangers. As it was advisable that we should put on our own clothes as soon as possible, I left my friends on their way to Mr. J's, and went to see if Denis had returned from Dublin.

On entering the cottage, the first person who met my eyes was Eliza. She had, it appeared, just returned from town, and made her first visit, for very obvious reasons, to Mrs. Howlan. I was now convinced that I had made an impression on this lovely woman's heart; and, as I gazed upon her animated countenance, I forgot for a moment my misfortunes, and believed it possible yet tobe in possession of happiness. In about half an hour Denis returned, having been successful in his mission. I quickly dressed myself; and, dismissing one of the little boys with my friend's clothes to Elmgrove, then took Eliza's arm, proceeded towards her father's. On our way she betrayed her anxiety for my safety; and, before we reached

and

her home, singular as it may appear under all the circumstances, we had pledged ourselves to an unalterable attachment.

Elmgrove, however, I was not destined to enter; for, just as we arrived at the door, an alarm was given of a party of cavalry approaching; and, without waiting to take leave of our friends, Emmet and I betook ourselves to the hills, where we continued until day-light next morning; when, meeting two of our friends, we went into a farmer's house, and procured some breakfast. About twelve o'clock we resolved to go towards Dublin; and, as one almost totally unknown, I was chosen to precede the party, and provide lodgings in the neighbourhood of Harold's Cross. Without meeting any thing to alarm me, I succeeded in engaging apartments in a mean-looking house, which appeared peculiarly adapted to my purpose, as it stood with its back to the road, the entrance being through an obscure door that led into the garden. Immediately after dusk I introduced Emmet, the others going to their respective homes; and here he continued for several days, during which time I took up my abode in the hotel, as usual, not thinking it right to act with any thing like secrecy. Once every day I paid my friend a visit; and, as I passed through the streets without having excited any suspicion, I resolved on remaining in Ireland till the whole affair blew over, as much with the intention of aiding the escape of Emmet, for whose apprehension a large reward was offered, as in the hope of again seeing Miss JDuring the first few days, Emmet sent several notes to Miss Curran without having obtained an answer; and at length I consented to be the bearer of a verbal message, which I was to manage with much delicacy and prudence, as the young lady had incurred, on Emmet's account, the displeasure of her friends. The day before my proposed visit to the Priory, Mr. Curran's residence, I was walking through Stephen's Green, when a person tapped me on the shoulder. Turning round in some alarm, I was at once surprised and rejoiced on seeing my cousin Malachy before me. He gave me a cordial shake of the hand; and appeared, by his friendly

manner, to have forgotten the enmity which had existed between us for some time previous to the revolt. As I was sincerely glad to see him, thus unexpectedly, at perfect liberty, I did not conceal my feelings; and, having learned that some good fortune-too long then to detail-had released him from prison, I communicated the name of my hotel, and directed him to the lodgings of my friend. He expressed the greatest satisfaction at seeing me; and having, as he said, some important information for Emmet, he proceeded towards Harold's Cross, promising to pay me a visit in the evening.

When I reached my hotel, it struck me that I had acted imprudently, and committed an error against friendship and judgment. Alas! I had a prescience of what soon took place; for, the moment the ebullition of joy on seeing Malachy had subsided, I regarded his release from prison as something rather extraordinary; it was, certainly, an event well calculated to create suspicion; and, dreading the worst of consequences, I snatched up my hat, and fled to Harold's Cross. But my speed was useless; for, when I came within sight of Emmet's lodgings, I saw the house surrounded by police officers. Good God! the feelings of that moment nearly overpowered me: my head reeled-my eyes lost their sight-and nothing but the sense of my own danger could have prevented me from falling on the road. A crowd soon collected; and, mingling in it, I had the grief and mortification to see my heroic young friend marched off a prisoner. His countenance, which I narrowly observed, betrayed no tokens of fear or perturbation, but evinced the same calm and dignified aspect which ever distinguished this extraordinary young man.

Emmet's apprehension reminded me of my own danger; and, hastening towards my hotel with the design of immediately quitting Dublin, I was met by one of the waiters, who desired me to fly, as police officers were in possession of my room and papers. There was evidently treason in all this; and I had no hesitation in fixing on Malachy as the traitor. Perhaps I wronged him but not to suspect him was impossible.

;

Dublin being no longer a place for me to reside in, and my money being now in possession of the police, I had no resource but to take refuge once more in the Wicklow mountains.About eight o'clock in the evening I reached the cottage of Denis, and was not a little surprised to find that search had been made for me there about half an hour before; and that for three days previous the yeomen were hunting through the hills for Emmet and me, they having received information of our being concealed in the mountains. This information considerably heightened my alarm; and, not thinking it prudent to remain in the cottage all night, I went out into a neighbouring field, and made my couch of a hay-stack. Fortunately for me that I did so; for early next morning Denis's cottage underwent another search.

For two days nothing was heard through the surrounding hills but the clangour of bugles, and the shouts of soldiers; while I kept continually shifting my quarters to avoid the search that was making after me. On the night of the second day, I fell in, once more, with Captain Dwyer, under whose protection I removed more to the South. Denis having reported that I had sailed for England, my pursuers relaxed in their industry; and, after being the companion of a mountain banditti for several days, I paid a kind of experimental visit to father Kavanagh, whom I had seen once or twice at Castle The worthy priest received me with the utmost kindness, and informed me, that he had only just returned from administering to my uncle the last rites of the church; for, though the poor old man bore the death of his eldest son with becoming fortitude, he had sunk under the imputed disgrace which Malachy had brought upon his family, it being currently reported my cousin had given information to government, though no one could substantiate the charge. Father Kavanagh was loud in his reprobation of Malachy; and, having a kind of secret chamber, he requested of me to become his guest. I gladly embraced his proposal, and continued his inmate for some time. Overcome by anxiety, I at length ventured to make the Exile

acquainted with my place of concealment. That gentleman, on receipt of my note, hastened to me, and by his cheerfulness and conversation contributed greatly to console me he recommended a speedy departure from the kingdom, and kindly undertook to provide the means. Respecting the fate of poor Emmet, he spoke vaguely, and seemed to think that he had no chance of escaping an ignominious death. Previous to taking his departure, he promised that I should hear from him when he had succeeded in making the proper arrangements for my departure from Ireland, and, from his confident manner, I had little doubt that the hour of my deliverance was at hand.

For three days I suffered all the horrors of suspense, but on the fourth a letter arrived; it was from my kind friend the Exile, and informed me that the captain of a merchant vessel then lying at Wexford had instructions to convey me to Lisbon. He then made some reflections on the necessity of fortitude, counselled me to bear up against misfortune with firmness, and used all those arguments which humane persons, think necessary to prepare a friend for some unexpected calamity. Be not alarmed,' he continued; I have melancholy intelligence to communicate: I have just returned from one of those scenes which fill the soul with awe and melancholy, and leave upon the mind an eternal impression of regret and sorrow. Robert Emmet, the lofty-minded patriot-the amiable enthusiast the warm-hearted friend, and ardent lover, is no more! The hand of the executioner has extinguished the fire and energy of that soul, which burned for his country's good; and that tongue, of the purest and sublimest eloquence, is now for

He died as he lived, with heroic fearlessness, and decent fortitude. There was no way to save him. The violated laws required to be appeased, and the government has only done its duty. The amiable, though enthusiastic Emmet, however, I hope has not died in vain; our rulers must learn from his history that a people without confidence, is a moral Hydra, never to be deprived of the means of doing mischief. The head of one rebellion is no sooner lopped off than another is generated. The Hercules, who is to annihilate the monster, can only be found in that act of wisdom and justice, which is to reconcile the people to their rulers, by making them freemen.'

The fate of Robert Emmet demanded something more than tears, and, unprofitable as these may have been, I have continued to offer them still to his memory. But let my private sorrows pass; history one day will do him justice, I have thrown my mite into the scale in which his reputation yet trembles; and, inadequate as that may be, it is sincere and impartial. All ye who knew him in his hour of pride,' go and do likewise.

My task is now concluded: the world has been made acquainted with the extent of my crime; but "all my sufferings none can know." On these, however, I do not mean to dwell; for, happily, years of tranquil pleasures have nearly effaced the remembrance of them from my mind. After three years spent on the Continent I returned to England. A forgiving father provided in an effectual manner for my security, and, being no longer a child of apprehension, I paid, after some time, a visit to Ireland. Castle- -I found in ruins-Malachy had joined the army, and died in the West Indies-Denis Howland I found fondly anticipating another rebellion

and all my friends at Elmgrove were as happy as virtue and independence could make them. Eliza, I thought, looked more lovely_than ever, and in an evening or two I persuaded her that we were destined for each other. She did not hesitate to believe me, and still thinks I was right: half a dozen little ones hold the same opinion, and what more could even a republican like me desire? GODFREY K

N.