the usual practice was for temporary compartments to be made
and taken down at the end of the voyage. I had fitted up such berths
myself, and therefore perfectly understood what my friend had done to
secure Colonel Kelly's escape when he described it to me afterwards at
my place in Byrom Street. Egan actually built a small secret
compartment, so constructed as to attract no notice, and when Kelly was
smuggled aboard at the last moment--he might be supposed to be one of
Egan's men--he was put into it and actually boarded up, sufficient
provisions being left with him, until the steamer got clear of British
waters, when he could come out with safety.

Deasy also made his way to America.

In speaking of the after-career of those assembled that night at
McGrady's, I have sufficiently accounted for Michael O'Brien.

Rickard Burke, who also assisted at the same gathering, was a remarkable
personality, and one of the most astute men I ever met. He was a
graduate of Queen's College, Cork, and an accomplished linguist. He was
a skilful engineer, and had served with distinction in the American
Civil War. When I knew him he was about thirty-five years of age, tall
and of fine presence. To him was deputed the work of purchasing arms
for the intended Rising in Ireland.

After many adventures, he fell into the hands of the police, was
convicted, and sentenced to a long term of imprisonment. It was with the
idea of effecting his rescue that the Clerkenwell Prison wall was blown
up on December 13th, 1867, this insane plan causing the death and
mutilation of a number of people. Burke himself would probably have been
killed had he happened to be confined in that part of the jail that was
blown up.

While in Chatham prison he was reported as having lost his reason, and
was removed to Woking. The matter was brought before the House of
Commons by Mr. McCarthy Downing, who suggested that Burke's insanity had
been caused by his treatment in prison. He was released on Sunday, July
9th, 1871.

Captain Murphy, another of the company in our Scotland Road rendezvous,
whom I had often met before, was a gentlemanly, genial man of portly
presence, and an exceedingly pleasant companion. After some time he
found his way back to America.

Edward O'Meagher Condon was one of the American officers I most
frequently came in contact with in Liverpool, previous to and after the
Rising. Since his return to America, after his release from penal
servitud