judges,
professional men--in fact, all Irishmen. I have sought that object:
first, because I thought it was our right--because I think national
independence is the right of the people of this country; and
secondly, I admit that, being a man who loved retirement, I never
would have engaged in politics did I not think it was necessary to do
all in my power to make an end of the horrible scenes that this
country presents--the pauperism, starvation, and crime, and vice, and
hatred of all classes against each other. I thought there should be
an end to that horrible system, which, while it lasted, gave me no
peace of mind; for I could not enjoy anything in my native country so
long as I saw my countrymen forced to be vicious--forced to hate each
other--and degraded to the level of paupers and brutes. That is the
reason I engaged in politics. I acknowledge, as the Solicitor-General
has said, that I was but a weak assailant of the English power. I am
not a good writer, and I am no orator. I had only two weeks'
experience in conducting a newspaper until I was put into jail; but I
am satisfied to direct the attention of my countrymen to everything I
have written and said, and to rest my character on a fair and candid
examination of what I have put forward as my opinions. I shall say
nothing in vindication of my motives but this--that every fair and
honest man, no matter how prejudiced he may be, if he calmly
considers what I have written and said, will be satisfied that my
motives were pure and honourable. I have nothing more to say."

Then the judge proceeded to pass sentence. In the course of his remarks
he referred to the recommendation to mercy which came from the jury,
whereupon Mr. Martin broke in. "I beg your lordship's pardon," he said,
"I cannot condescend to accept 'mercy,' where I believe I have been
morally right; I want justice--not mercy." But he looked for it in vain.

"Transportation for ten years beyond the seas" is spoken by the lips of
the judge, and the burlesque of justice is at an end. Mr. Martin heard
the sentence with perfect composure and self-possession, though the
faces of his brothers and friends standing by, showe signs of the
deepest emotion. "Remove the prisoner," were the next words uttered, and
then John Martin, the pure-minded, the high-souled, and the good, was
borne off to the convict's cell in Newgate.

Amongst the friends