barrack division in coloured clothes, also helped
to clear the streets, and apprehend armed men
or rebels seen firing. And now horses could be
heard, sabres came waving down the street,
bayonets moved fast and close, drums beat louder,
and then the rebels were charged fiercely, and
shot down wherever they resisted. Then they
fled to the suburbs and to the mountains. Beforetwelve the insurrection was quelled.

Poor Emmet! so passed his dream away. The
great bright bubble of his life's hope had melted
into drops of human blood. He and about fourteen
other armed men fled to the Wicklow mountains,
and skulked about from farm-house to
farm-house, from glen to crag, from valley to
village. As the pursuit grew hotter, and the
troops began to come winding round the Scalp,
and scattering along the blue rocky mountain-roads,
the fugitives separated, each to look
after himself. Emmet could, it was said, have
escaped in a friendly fishing-boat to France, but
a wild impulse of love and reckless despair seized
him. He turned back from the sea, and set his
face towards Dublin, once more to clasp Sarah
Curran in his arms, and bid her farewell for
ever. He regained the disturbed city safely,
and took up his quarters again in his old place
of refuge at Harold's Cross, in the house of a
clerk named Palmer. He was known there as
Mr. Hewitt. He had planned a mode of escape,
if any attempt at arrest should be made, by
escaping from a parlour window into an outhouse,
and from thence getting into the fields.
But an indefatigable pursuer was soon on
Emmet's track. On the evening of the 25th of
August, Major Sirr rode up to the house
accompanied by a man on foot. Mrs. Palmer's
daughter opened the door. Sirr instantly darted
into the back parlour. There sat a tall young
man, in a brown coat, white waistcoat, white
pantaloons, and Hessian boots, at dinner with
his landlady. Sirr instantly gave him into the
custody of his man, and took the landlady in
the next room to ask the stranger's name, as
it was not in the list of inhabitants wafered on
the door of the house according to law. While
Sirr was absent, Emmet tried to escape, and the
officer struck him down with the butt-end of his
pistol. Sirr then went to the canal-bridge for a
guard, placed sentries round the house, while he
searched it, and planted a sentry over the
prisoner. Emmet again escaping while Sirr was
taking down the landlady's evidence, Sirr ran
after him, and shouted to the sentinel to fire.
The musket did not go off. Sirr then overtook
the prisoner, who surrendered quietly,
and on being apologised to for his rough
treatment, said, "All is fair in war." At the
Castle, Emmet at once acknowledged his name.

Ou the 31st of August, Emmet was tried
and pleaded not guilty, but made no defence.
Curran had sternly refused to defend his
daughter's unhappy lover.

Mr. Plunket, who prosecuted for the Crown,
said, in the opening of his speech,

"God and nature have made England and
Ireland essential to each other; let them cling
to each other to the end of time, and their united
affection and loyalty will be proof against the
machinations of the world.

"And how was this revolution to be effected?
The proclamation conveys an insinuation that
it was to be effected by their own force, entirely
independent of foreign assistance. Why?
Because it was well known that there remained in
this country few so depraved, so lost to the
welfare of their native land, that would not
shudder at forming an alliance with France,
and therefore the people of Ireland are told,
'The effort is to be entirely your own,
independent of foreign aid.'  But how does this
tally with the time when the scheme was first
hatched— the very period of the commencement
of the war with France? How does this
tally with the fact of consulting in the depôt
about co-operating with the French, which has
been proved in evidence?

"So much, gentlemen, for the nature of this
conspiracy, and the pretexts upon which it
rests. Suffer me for a moment to call your
attention to one or two of the edicts published
by the conspirators. They have denounced,
that if a single Irish soldier—or, in more faithful
description, Irish rebel—shall lose his life after
the battle is over, quarter is neither to be given
or taken. Observe the equality of the reasoning
of these promulgers of liberty and equality.
The distinction is this: English troops are
permitted to arm in defence of the government
and the constitution of the country, and to
maintain their allegiance; but if an Irish
soldier, yeoman, or other loyal person, who
shall not, within the space of fourteen days
from the date and issuing forth of their sovereign
proclamation, appear in arms with them
—if he presumes to obey the dictates of his
conscience, his duty, and his interest, if he has
the hardihood to be loyal to his sovereign and
his country—he is proclaimed a traitor, his life
is forfeited, and his property is confiscated. A
sacred palladium is thrown over the rebel cause
—while, in the same breath, undistinguishing
vengeance is denounced against those who stand
up in defence of the existing and ancient laws
of the country. For God's sake, to whom are
we called upon to deliver up, with only fourteen
days to consider of it, all the advantages we
enjoy? Who are they who claim the obedience?
The prisoner is the principal. I do
not wish to say anything harsh of him; a young
man of considerable talents, if used with
precaution, and of respectable rank in society, if
content to conform himself to its laws. But
when he assumes the manner and the tone of a
legislator, and calls upon all ranks of people,
the instant the provisional government
proclaim in the abstract a new government,
without specifying what the new laws are to be,
or how the people are to be conducted and
managed, but that the moment it is announced
the whole constituted authority is to yield to
him—it becomes an extravagance bordering
upon frenzy; this is going beyond the
example of ail former times. If a rightful
sovereign were restored, he would forbear to inflict
punishment upon those who submitted to the