Even Lord Clonmel, Chief Justice, and the clever advocate's bitter foe, could scarce suppress his symptoms of admiration. But, notwithstanding all that Curran's rhetoric could do, and the total insufficiency of evidence to prove publication on the part of the prisoner, Rowan was found guilty, fined 5007., and sentenced to an imprisonment of two years; while the real author, afterwards prosecuted, was acquitted, and the man who really distributed it was never even indicted! What wonder, then, that Hamilton Rowan gained the éclat of a political martyr ?

CHAPTER XXIX.

IN NEWGATE.

THE session of 1794 went on with considerable dulness until Mr. Ponsonby introduced his Reform Bill on March 4th; but this stagnation among the legislators was not because the country was in a lulled state. Right-boys and Defenders had never been more rampant. A large body of the former, assembling near Bandon, in the county of Cork, swore the inhabitants of the districts round not to pay tithes, taxes, nor hearth-money: when the police and militia attempted to disperse them, the Right-boys routed those authorities completely. The organization of the Defenders spread into many counties heretofore free from their influence, and the outrages they committed were more frequent and ferocious.

But Parliament in College Green tranquilly discussed a new Reform Bill-as if a man should arrange for the patching up of his roof while his house behind him was in flames. Sir Hercules Langrishe led the ministerial opposition to the measure, and

declared that reform was but one step to revolution, and that the political convulsions of France were only the natural consequences of "a reforming spirit." A majority of ninety-eight against the bill proved that most of the House agreed with him; and Parliament was prorogued on the 25th March, having nothing more to do.

Society stayed in Dublin for awhile, amusing itself. Après nous le déluge was the language of plenty of pleasure-seekers, dancing as it were on the crust of a volcano. Beneath the smiling surface of balls and routs, and viceregal entertainments, a world of conspiracy and unrest was seething. The mock parliament of Catholic delegates continued to meet in Taylors' Hall, Back Lane, and whispered of French alliance as the only hope of Ireland. A man had come over as secret envoy from the Committee of Public Safety in Paris to report on the political temper of the commonalty and the chances of success for an invasion. He was called William Jackson, and was accompanied by an English attorney named Cockayne, whom he believed a personal friend, but who had in reality sold his services to the British Government as spy. By information from this person, all Jackson's letters to his employers were intercepted at the post-office; and, had not the leaders of the United Irishmen been jealously guarded in their intercourse with him (as they distrusted Cockayne from the outset, naturally wondering what could be the motive of an Englishman for playing false to his own government in favour of aliens), the whole conspiracy might have been fathomed at this period, and the rebellion of 1798 crushed in the germ.

Mr. Rowan's imprisonment in Newgate was not a severe one. His friends were allowed access, under proper restrictions; the leaders of the United Irishmen were his frequent visitors. Fergus Kavanagh, though not sufficiently implicated in their plans to be known as one of them, was yet considered a promising pupil in those liberal theories which precede the practice of sedition; and,

having an admiration for Rowan's private character (which was, indeed, blameless but for certain eccentricities), he sometimes whiled away one of the prisoner's hours with his conversation

They were sitting thus one April day in the small stone room which was Rowan's residence, and which the care of his friends had made more habitable than a prison cell is usually. The turfsods were smouldering on the broad hearth, sending a lazy curl of faint blue smoke straggling up the wide chimney, which was laced across with hidden bars; the small window had bars of great strength across it, though it only looked into a dismal grey paved courtyard, deep as a walled well. Many books and papers were lying in disorder on the deal table, which was covered with a cloth cover: close to the inkstand, with its upright goose-quills, was perched the elbow of the prisoner, as he half sat, half lay, in an arm-chair talking to Mr. Kavanagh.

"I didn't like what MacNally's footman told him about Cockayne's mock sleep after dinner there one day. Jackson and he and Tone, and one or two others of our party, had got a little freespoken over their claret, when the man who had brought in some fresh wine beckoned his master out of the room. 'Sir,' says he, 'be careful what you say; for the strange gentleman that seems to be asleep hasn't his eyes shut at all, but is watching you all through his fingers; I saw his eyes glistening as I passed by.' That was the very evening Tone agreed to draw up the report for the French committee, detailing the exact state of Ireland; and, if that English fellow should prove to be a traitor—”

“Let us hope not, sir," said the young barrister, when he paused; the very idea of such treachery is so repugnant

"You still hope the best of all men!" exclaimed Rowan, who was himself one of the most benevolently credulous of beings. "My young friend, you have much to learn; the longer you live, the more distrustful will you become. I tried to dissuade Tone