The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1898-03-12

saiIo6SIuei Iue COlluucL OF a weak man.
Her description of his dying days in
prison bears reproductions:
For the first few days his condition
had causes little anxiety, his family be-
Ing compelled to content themselves with
secondhand reports, owing to the mex
orable refusal of the government to al
low the visits of friends or relations
With regard to those who could claim to
be neither the rule was less stringent,
and Lord Hollard cites, as an instance
OF his cousins sweetness of nature, the
fashion In which he took leave of one Of
his bitterest enemies, who had seen mt
to visit him in his mangled condition.
Il would shake hands with you will
ingly," said the prisoner, "but mine are
cut to pieces. However. I'll shake toe
and wish you goodby."
But it was not in spite of the absence
of all rancor and resentment, to the
men who were allowed access to him
that he could confide his true anxieties
the hopes and fears and longings by
which he was racked; and it was only
when his lips were unsealed by fever
that he raved, not of his own peril, nor
even Of those he loved so well-of his
mother and Pamela and his little child
ren-but of Dublin in flames, of militia
and numbers, and, escaping in spirit
from his prison cell, imagined himself to
be leading on the people to the fight,
and was heard crying out, in a voice so
loud that the shout reached the ears OF
his fellow captives, and the people,
mournful and sullen, gathered in the
streets to listen, Come on, come on
damn you, come On!"
The end was not long protractcd, pos
sibly fastened by the culpable careless
ness on the part of those responsible for
the arrangement in allowing an eSecu-
tion to take p -ce at the very doors of he
Jail the omnious sounds attending it be-
ing plainly audible within.
what noise is that?" demanded the
prisoner anxiously; and so great a shock
was the answer, that, praying earnestly
that God would pardon and receive all
who suffered In the cause, he fell at once
into the Inconsistencies of delirium.
The last day was come. Again and
again his relations had renewed their
entreaties to be allowed access to him,
but in vain. He was not, however, to
pass away without the sight of a familiar
face. On Saturday, June 3, warnings
had reached Lord Henry Of his dying
condition, and once more, half maddened
by the thought of his brother left alone
in his hour Of greatest need, he had re-
course to the authorities; while the pris-
oner's fayorite aunt, Lady Louisa Con-
oily literally on her knees before Lord
Castlereagh, strove to move him from
the incredible harshness of his attitude.
All was in vain. With the dogged obsti-
| macy Of weak man he refused to can
| Gel the orders which had been issued;
| and 1t was only by the intervention Of
Lord Glare that aunt and brother were
at length admitted to take leave of the
dying man.
The visit was we'll timed. Delirlum
had given place to quiet exhaustion That
evening the surgeon had, at his request,
read to him the death of our Lord: he
| had, in Lady Louisa's words, composed
his dear mind with prayer" and now
| recognized with tranquil satisfaction his
| brother and aunt.
"It is heaven to see you" he said, the
words marking what the previous lone
| liness had been. II can't see You,' he
objected soon after; then on Lady Louisa
| shifting her position, kissed her hand
and smiled, she discerning the while
! death in his face.
She might we'll do so. He had already
| reached the limit beyond which the
echoes of this troublesome world pene-
| trates but family, and the violence Of
| grief OF joy is hushed Though he had
believed his brother to be in England,
he expressed no surprise at his presence
only testifying a quiet content az the two
kissed each other, falling back into ei-
lence as his visitors spoke to him of his
wife and her safe journey to England.
"And the children, too?" he asked add
| ing vaguely, "She is charming wo-
man."
Il knew it must come to this he pur-
sued dreamily, "and we must all co."
then, his mind wandering to the past, he
rambled on. his brain again busy with
military details, till his aunt begged him
not to agitate himself by talking Of such
matters.
| "Well. won't" he said, and fell again
into droWsy silence, his eyes resting in
placid contentment on his brothers
face.
The time came to leave him. Lord
Glare, whose personal escort had been a
condition of admission, was waiting
Nothing more was to be said; nothing
done. I'VE told him." Lady Louisa
wrote, "that, as he appeared inclined to
sleep, we would wish him good night
and return in the morning. He said do
do but did not express any uneasiness
at our leaving him." The pain of sepa-
| ration was for him past Gently as he