mer forced to engage itself
only on the contemplation of that which is painful. In such a situation,
the mental and physical powers are rendered incapable of mutually
sustaining each other; for we all know that mere corporal employment
lessens affliction, or enables us in a shorter time to forget it, whilst
the acuteness of bodily suffering, on the other hand, is blunted by
those pursuits which fill the mind with agreeable impressions. During
the few days, therefore, that intervened between the last interview
which Connor held with Nogher M'Cormick, and the day of his final
departure he felt himself rather relieved than depressed by the number
of friends who came to visit him for the last time. He was left less to
solitude and himself than he otherwise would have been, and, of course,
the days of his imprisonment were neither so dreary nor oppressive
as the uninterrupted contemplation of his gloomy destiny would have
rendered them. Full of the irrepressible ardor of youth, he longed for
that change which he knew must bring him onward in the path of life; and
in this how little did he resemble the generality of other convicts,
who feel as if time were bringing about the day of their departure
with painful and more than ordinary celerity! At length the interviews
between him and all those whom he wished to see were concluded, with the
exception of three, viz.--John O'Brien and his own parents, whilst only
two clear days intervened until the period, of his departure.

It was on the third morning previous to that unhappy event, that the
brother of his Una--the most active and indefatigable of all those
who had interested themselves for him--was announced as requiring
an interview. Connor, although prepared for this, experienced on the
occasion, as every high-minded person would do, a strong feeling of
degradation and shame as the predominant sensation. That, indeed, was
but natural, for it is undoubtedly true that we feel disgrace the more
heavily upon us in the eyes of those we esteem, than we do under any
other circumstances. This impression, however, though as we have said
the strongest,--was far from being the only one he felt. A heart like
his could not be insensible to the obligations under which the generous
and indefatigable exertions of young O'Brien had placed him. But,
independently of this, he was Una's brother, and the appearance of one
so dear to her gave to all his love for her a character of melancholy
tende