his ill-fated son occupied
the cell of a felon, he found to his surprise that, early as were his
habits, there were others whose movements were still more early than his
own. John O'Brien had come to town--been with his attorney--had got a
memorial in behalf of Connor to the Irish government, engrossed, and
actually signed by more than one--half of the jury who tried him--all
before the hour of ten o'clock. A copy of thi's document, which was
written by O'Brien himself, now lies before us, with the names of all
the jurors attached to it; and a more beautiful or affecting piece of
composition we have never read. The energy and activity of O'Brien were
certainly uncommon, and so, indeed, were his motives. As he himself told
Fardorougha, whom he met as the latter entered the town--

"I would do what I have done for Connor, although I have never yet
exchanged a syllable with him. Yet, I do assure you, Fardorougha, that
I have other motives--which you shall never know--far stronger than any
connected with the fate of your son. Now, don't misunderstand me."

"No," replied the helpless old man, who was ignorant of the condition of
his sister, "I will not, indeed--I'd be long sarry."

O'Brien saw that any rational explanation he might give would be
only thrown away upon a man who seemed to be so utterly absorbed and
stupefied by the force of his own sufferings.

"Poor old man," he exclaimed, as Fardorougha left him, to visit Connor;
"see what affliction does? There are thousands now who pity you--even
you, whom almost every one who knew you, cursed and detested."

Such, indeed, was the fact. The old man's hardness of heart was
forgotten in the pity that was produced by the dreadful fate which
awaited his unhappy son. We must now pass briefly over occurrences
which are better understood when left to the reader's imagination.
John O'Brien was not the only one who interested himself in the fate
of Connor. Fardorougha, as a matter of course, got the priest of the
parish, a good and pious man, to draw up a memorial in the name, as he
said, of himself and his wife. The gentry of the neighborhood, also,
including the members of the grand jury, addressed government on his
behalf--for somehow there was created among those who knew the parties,
or even who heard the history of their loves, a sympathy which resulted
more from those generous impulses that intuitively perceive truth, than
from the cooler calculations of reason. The hea