Anne Devlin was sent by her father to assist in taking care of it, and act as servant to Mr. Emmet. It was not without much

second in command. They were returning from Mrs. Bagnal's, where they had been seeking for the refugees. When they were perceived they were too close upon them to even make an attempt at escape. The officers then formed a cordon about the house, but their lines were at a tolerable distance from it. They had now no alternative left but to surrender at discretion, or fight as long as they could stand. The house was slated, and had tolerably good walls, but very low; and, as I observed, had no windows to fire out through. Badly as they were situated for defence against such superiority, they resolved not to surrender with life. The party consisted of Mr. Emmet, Heavy, Quigley, Stopford, Mahon, Wyld, Cummins, two Parrots (brothers) Phepoe, and a person under an assumed name, supposed to be Aylmer; Arthur Devlin, John Neil, a brother-in-law to O'Dwyer, and Byrne, who deserted from the Castle guard on the 23rd inst.

The only noise made was the throwing up of the hammers of three blunderbusses, and renewing the priming in their pans. Arthur Devlin knelt down in the middle of the floor, with the muzzle of his blunderbuss covering the head of the narrow stairs, his left hand steadily supporting the piece, and his finger laid on the trigger. All was now as silent as death. Kearney and his wife stood on the floor below, as mute as Egyptian mummies. Mr. La Touche and Mr. Shaw entered, and some of their men drew a little closer to the house. Mr. Shaw said, “Well, Kearney, have you got any strangers here?" "No, Sir," was the reply; "the house is not large, and you can easily see through it." Mr. Shaw looked into a tap room whose door was partly open, and then, throwing a look all round, he observed the narrow stairs leading to the apartment where the objects of his inquiry lay crouched for the time like tigers in their lair. Immediately before the gentlemen entered Kearney perceived two or three baskets at the door, which were used for bringing turf down from the mountains by being suspended across a horse's back. These he laid hold of, and threw one of them on the first step of the stairs, and each of the others over it in a careless and disorderly manner, to give that passage the appearance of not being in frequent use Mr. S. still pointing upwards, asked is there any one up here. 'No, Sir," said Kearney, with an astonishing firmness, we make no use of that place but to throw some light lumber on it-it is not able to bear anything heavy on it." Mr. S. had at this time laid one foot on the first step, and was rising the second to ascend, when Mrs. Kearney caught the skirt of his coat, and, with a gentle pluck, said-" Oh, Sir, if you go up there you will fall down through it and be killed." Had he advanced another step her last sentence would have been fulfilled, for he would have received Devlin's fire through the head, and the future Sir R.'s fate would have been sudden and awful; and the family in all probability might have remained since without a title. Beyond dispute, it was to Kearney and his family that that gentleman owed his life; and strange are the

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difficulty I found out her place of abode in the year 1842. She was then living in John's-lane, in a stable-yard, the first gateway in the lane, on the right hand side, leading from New Row, and next to the rear of the premises formerly occupied by Mr. Henry O'Hara.

Her husband, a decent poor man of the name of Cambell, as well as herself, I found had knowledge of my family, and I needed no other introduction. Mrs. Cambell, whom I will continue to call by her best known name, Anne Devlin, is now far advanced in years, contributing by hard labour, to the support of her family. Will the prestige of the heroine fade away when it is told that she is a common washerwoman, living in a miserable hovel, utterly unnoticed by, and unknown, except among the poor of her own class.

"On the 23d of July, at about eleven o'clock at night," says Anne Devlin, "Robert Emmet, Nicholas Stafford, Michael Quigley, Thomas Wylde, John Mahon, John Hevey, and the two Parrotts, from Nass, came to the house at Butterfield

vicissitudes to be met with on the pathway of life, the same Wm. Kearney, his brother, and father, an octogenarian, were executed in 1815 on circumstantial evidence tendered against them for the supposed murder of a ploughman to one of the S. family. I say supposed, for the missing man was never found dead or alive since. The two gentlemen now retired, and marched off their party, and as soon as the place was cleared the besieged garrison marched off in the direction of Mrs. Bagnal's again. On this evening, that faithful and neglected Anne Devlin, with Miss Wyld, sister to Thomas Wyld, took a jingle and drove out with letters to them. They were sitting on a sunny bank, a short distance above Mrs Bagnal's when the two young women approached them. A council had been held, and it was decided that each of them should do the best he could for himself. Neil, O'Dwyer's brother in-law pressed Mr. Emmet to go with him to Imail, and that O'Dwyer would protect him until an opportunity would be afforded him of getting out of the country. His staff hailed the proposal, and Byrne, the deserter, being a Wicklow man, volunteered to assist Neil as guide and body guard. But Mr. Emmet would not hear of it. "No," said he, "I could not for any consideration go near him after our defeat." He divided some money with a few of them that joined there then. He then got into the jingle, with him Devlin and Miss Wyld, and after a feeling farewell, they drove off in the direction of Dublin. He parted with them a little outside of Rathfarnham. At night the rest of his companions, after shaking hands with each other in the most cordial manner, and with a manly farewell, parted.—From a Dublin Newspaper of recent date.

lane." Anne Devlin saw them outside of the house in the yard; she was at that moment sending off a man on horseback with ammunition in a sack, and bottles filled with powder. Anne called out, "Who's there?" Robert Emmet, answered, "It's me, Anne." She said, "Oh, bad welcome to you, is the world lost by you, you cowards, that you are, to lead the people to destruction, and then to leave them." Robert Emmet said, "Don't blame me, the fault is not mine." They then came in, Quigley was present, but they did not upbraid him, Emmet and the others told Anne afterwards that Quigley was the cause of the failure.

Michael Quigley was constantly in the store in Thomasstreet. On the 23d his conduct was thought extraordinary, he rushed into the Depot shortly before nine o'clock, and said he had been looking down Dirty-lane and saw the army coming, he ran in, exclaiming, "all is lost, the army is coming." Robert Emmet said, "if that be the case we may as well.die in the streets as cooped up here.". It was then he rushed out, and the route took place. Robert Emmet ran down Patrickstreet, and the Coombe, crying out turn out," turn out;" but no one came out. He was attacked by some soldiers on the Coombe, but got off. They stopt at Butterfield-lane that night and next day, and, at night, about ten o'clock, fled to the mountains, when they got information that the house was to be searched. Anne's father, who kept a dairy close by, got horses for three of them, and went with them.

Rose Hope, the wife of James Hope, had been there keeping the house also.* The reason of their stopping there that night was, that Emmet expected Dwyer and the mountaineers down in the morning by break of day, but Dwyer had not got Emmet's previous letter, and had heard of Emmet's defeat only the next day, and, therefore, did not come. Mr. Emmet and his companions first went to Doyle's in the mountains, and

* Rose Hope resided also at Butterfield-lane, and assisted in keeping the house for Mr. Emmet; she was then nursing a baby, her other children were in Dublin, and she had to go back and forwards between Butterfield-lane and the place where her children were taken care of. Anne Devlin was in the same capacity in the house in Butterfield-lane at different periods. Rose Hope was a Presbyterian, but had four of her children baptized by a Roman Catholic Clergy

man.

thence to the Widow Bagnal's. Anne Devlin and Miss Wylde, the sister of Mrs. Mahon, two or three days after, went up to the mountains in a jingle with letters for them. They found Robert Emmet and his associates at the Widow Bagnal's sitting on the side of the hill, some of them were in their uniform, for they had no other clothes.

Robert Emmet insisted on coming back with Anne and her companions, he parted with them before they came to Rathfarnham, but Anne Devlin knows not where he went that night, but in a day or two after he sent for her to take a letter to Miss Curran, he was then staying at Mrs. Palmers, at Harold's-cross.

Major Sirr had positive information of Robert Emmet's place of concealment at Harold's-cross, he was directed to give a single rap at the door, and was informed that he would find Mr. Emmet in the parlour. She, (Anne Devlin), overheard a conversation, while in confinement in Kilmainham, in which it was stated that the Major's informer was a person who had been with Robert Emmet in the morning.* Biddy Palmer was very intimate with him, but she would never have been untrue to him. The day after the gentleman went away from Butterfield-lane a troop of yeomen came with a magistrate, and searched the house. Every place was ransacked from top to bottom. As for Anne Devlin she was seized on when they first rushed in, as if they were going to tear down the house. She was kept below by three or four of the yeomen with their fixed bayonets pointed at her, and so close to her body that she could feel their points. When the others came down she was examined. She said she knew nothing in the world about the gentleman, except that she was the servant maid, where they came from, and where they went to, she knew nothing about, and so long as her wages were paid she cared to know nothing else about them.

The magistrate pressed her to tell the truth, he threatened her with death if she did not tell; she persisted in asserting her total ignorance of Mr. Ellis's acts and movements, and of those of all the other gentlemen. At length the magistrate gave the word to hang her, and she was dragged into the court yard to be executed. There was a common car there, they tilted up the shafts and fixed a rope from the back band * The allusion, I believe, is to a person of the name of Lacey.

that goes across the shafts, and while these preparations were making for her execution, the yeomen kept her standing against the wall of the house, prodding her with their bayonets in the arms and shoulders, till she was all over covered with blood, (a young woman then of about twenty-six years of age), and saying to her at every thrust of the bayonet, Will you confess now; will you tell now where is Mr. Ellis ?" Her constant answer was, "I have nothing to tell,

will tell nothing!!!"

I

The rope was at length put about her neck; she was dragged to the place where the car was converted into a gallows; she was placed under it, and the end of the rope was passed over the back-band. The question was put to her for the last time, "Will you confess where Mr. Ellis is ?" Her answer was, "You may murder me, you villains; but not one word about him will you ever get from me." She had just time to say, "The Lord Jesus have mercy on my soul," when a tremendous shout was raised by the yeomen: the rope was pulled by all of them, except those who held down the back part of the car, and in an instant, she was suspended by the neck. After she had been thus suspended for two or three minutes, her feet touched the ground, and a savage yell of laughter recalled her to her senses. The rope round her neck was loosened, and her life was spared: she was let off with half hanging. She was then sent to town, and brought before Major Sirr.

No sooner was she brought before Major Sirr, than he, in the most civil and coaxing manner, endeavoured to prevail on her to give information respecting Robert Emmet's place of concealment. The question continually put to her was, "Well, Anne, all we want to know is, where did he go to from Butterfield-lane ?" He said he would undertake to obtain for her the sum (he did not call it reward) of £500, which, he added, was a fine fortune for a young woman," only to tell against persons who were not her relations; that all the others of them had confessed the truth, (which was not true,) and that they were sent home liberated, (which was also a lie).

The author said to her with becoming gravity,-"You took the money, of course." The look the woman gave was one that would have made an admirable subject for a painter-a regard in which wonder, indignation, and misgiving of the seriousness of the person who addressed her, were blended ;—