ght in the air; he had been ready to use it in defence
of others, he would not shed blood for himself. Disarmed by his own act,
he was set upon by the police, brutally struck down, kicked and stoned by
his pursuers, and then, bruised and bleeding, he was dragged off to gaol,
to meet there some of his comrades in much the same plight. The whole
city of Manchester went mad over the story, and the fiercest
race-passions at once blazed out into flame; it became dangerous for an
Irish workman to be alone in a group of Englishmen, for an Englishman to
venture into the Irish quarter of the city. The friends of the arrested
Irishmen went straight to "Lawyer Roberts", and begged his aid, and he
threw himself heart and soul into their defence. He soon found that the
man who had fired the fatal shot was safe out of the way, having left
Manchester at once, and he trusted that it would at least be possible to
save his clients from the death-penalty. A Special Commission was issued,
with Mr. Justice Blackburn at its head. "They are going to send that
hanging judge," groaned Mr. Roberts when he heard it, and we felt there
was small chance of escape for the prisoners. He struggled hard to have
the _venue_ of the trial changed, protesting that in the state of
excitement in which Manchester was, there was no chance of obtaining an
impartial jury. But the cry for blood and for revenge was ringing through
the air, and of fairness and impartiality there was no chance. On the
25th of October, the prisoners were actually brought up before the
magistrates _in irons_, and Mr. Ernest Jones, the counsel briefed to
defend them, after a vain protest against the monstrous outrage, threw
down his brief and quitted the Court. The trial was hurried on, and on
October 29th, Allen, Larkin, Gould (O'Brien), Maguire, and Condon, stood
before their judges.

We drove up to the court; the streets were barricaded; soldiers were
under arms; every approach was crowded by surging throngs. At last, our
carriage was stopped in the midst of excited Irishmen, and fists were
shaken in the window, curses levelled at the "d----d English who were
going to see the boys murdered". For a moment things were uncomfortable,
for we were five women of helpless type. Then I bethought myself that we
were unknown, and, like the saucy girl I was, I leant forward and touched
the nearest fist. "Friends, these are Mr. Roberts' wife and daughters."
"Roberts! Lawyer Roberts! God bless Rob