nephew,

W.P. ALLEN.

Pray for us. Good bye, and remember me. Good bye, and may
heaven protect ye, is the last wish of your dying nephew,

W.P. ALLEN.

Larkin was the only one of the condemned four who was married. There
were to weep his fall, besides his aged parents, a devoted wife
and three little children--all young; and it redounds rather to his
honour, that though flinching in nowise, lacking nought in courageous
firmness, home ties were painfully strong around his heart. With
him it was anguish indeed to part for ever the faithful wife and the
little ones who used to nestle in his bosom. Ah! he was never more to
feel those little arms twining round his neck--never more to see those
infant faces gazing into his own--never more to part the flaxen curls
over each unfurrowed brow! Henceforth they would look for his coming
and hearken for his footfall in vain! They would call upon him, and be
answered only by the convulsive sobs of their widowed mother. And who
would now fill his place for them, even as bread-winner? Mayhap, when
he lay in the grave, these cherished little ones, for whom he would
draw the life-blood from his heart, would feel the hunger-pangs of
orphanage in squalid misery and obscurity! But no. If such a thought
approached Larkin's heart, it was at once repelled. Assuredly, he
had more faith in his countrymen--more faith in the fidelity and
generosity of his race--than to believe they would suffer one of those
orphans to want loving, helping, guiding hands. As he himself said, he
was not, after all, leaving them fatherless; he was bequeathing them
to Ireland and to God.

And the Father of the Fatherless, even on the instant, raised up a
friend for them--sent an angel missioner of blessed comfort to give
poor Larkin, even on the brink of the grave, assurance that no pang of
poverty should ever wound those little ones thus awfully bereaved. One
day the confessor met the prisoners with beaming face, holding in his
hand a letter. It was from the Dowager Marchioness of Queensbury, to
the condemned Irishmen in Salford gaol, and ran as follows:--

MY DEAR FRIENDS--

It may be that those few lines may minister some consolation
to you on your approaching departure from this world. I send
you by the hands of a faithful messenger some help for your
wife, or wives, and children, in their approaching irreparable
loss, and with the assurance that so long as I liv