fter a night of incessant riding, he
reached Derrynane Abbey on Sunday morning at nine o'clock. His name was
William Burke: let it be transmitted with all honour to posterity! He
told his errand to one who never listened unmoved to the tale of his
country's sorrows and wrongs; and he assured O'Connell that, unless he
were in Cork by nine next morning, the unfortunate prisoners, "though
innocent as the child unborn," would all be hanged. The great man at
once prepared for his journey; and so wild was the joy of Burke, so sure
was he that there would now be a hope, if not a certainty, of justice,
that only the earnest entreaties of O'Connell could induce him to remain
a few hours to rest his weary horse. On the same good horse he set out
again, and reached Cork at eight o'clock on Monday morning, having
travelled 180 miles in thirty-eight hours. Scouts had been posted all
along the road to watch the man's return: even as he passed through each
little village, there was an anxious crowd waiting the word of life or
death. "O'Connell's coming, boys!" was enough; and a wild cheer, which
rent the very mountains, told how keenly an act of justice could be
appreciated by the most justice-loving people upon earth. And O'Connell
did come. He has himself described the sensations of that midnight
journey, through all the autumn beauties of the most beautiful scenery
in the United Kingdom. And then he exclaims: "After that glorious feast
of soul, I found myself settled down amid all the rascalities of an
Irish court of justice."

The Solicitor-General was actually addressing the jury, when the shouts
of the excited crowd announced the arrival of one who, by this act of
his life alone, deserves, _par excellence_, the proud and glorious title
of the LIBERATOR. He entered the courthouse, apologized for his
unprofessional attire; and as he had no refreshment, and there was no
time to lose, he requested permission of the judges to have a bowl of
milk and some sandwiches sent to him. The Solicitor-General resumed his
address, but had not proceeded far before the stentorian voice of
O'Connell was heard exclaiming: "That's not law." The bench decided in
his favour. He was rapidly swallowing as much food as was necessary to
sustain nature, and once more, with his mouth full, he exclaims: "That's
no longer law; the Act is repealed." Again the mortified counsel
proceeded with his case, and once more O'Connell's knowledge of law
served him in go