to call him by
his real name--in leaving America for Ireland in 1865 to take part in
the contemplated rising, merely took the place which his father wished
and intended to occupy. The young man induced him, to remain at home,
and claimed for himself the post of danger. Well may that patriotic
father be proud of such a son.

When called upon for such remarks as he might have to offer on his own
behalf, Captain Mackay, without any of the airs of a practised speaker,
but yet with a manner that somehow touched every heart and visibly
affected the humane and upright judge who sat on the bench, delivered
the following address:--

"My lord--What I said last evening I think calls for a little
explanation. I then said I was fully satisfied with the verdict--that
it was a fair and just one. I say so still, but I wish to state that
I consider it only so in accordance with British law, and that it is
not in accordance with my ideas of right and justice. I feel that
with the strong evidence there was against me, according to British
law, the jury could not, as conscientious men, do otherwise. I feel
that. I thank them again for their recommendation to mercy, which, I
have no doubt, was prompted by a good intention towards me, and a
desire to mitigate what they considered would he a long and painful
imprisonment. Still, I will say, with all respect, that I feel the
utmost indifference to it. I do so for this reason--I am now in that
position that I must rely entirely upon the goodness of God, and I
feel confident that He will so dispose events that I will not remain
a prisoner so long as your lordship may be pleased to decree. The
jury having now found me guilty, it only remains for your lordship to
give effect to their verdict. The eloquence, the ability, the clear
reasoning, and the really splendid arguments of my counsel failed, as
I knew they would, to affect the jury. I feel, therefore, that with
my poor talents it would be utterly vain and useless for me to
attempt to stay the sentence which it now becomes your lordship's
duty to pronounce. I believe, my lord, from what I have seen of your
lordship, and what I have heard of you, it will be to you a painful
duty to inflict that sentence upon me. To one clinging so much to the
world and its joys--to its fond ties and pleasant associations, as I
naturally do, retirement into banishment is seldom--very