Fergus is his name--Fergus O'Reilly.

His father, for doin' something or other contrary to the laws--harborin' some outlaw, I believe, that was a relation of his own, and who was found by the army in his house--well, his father, a very ould man, was taken prisoner, and put into jail, where he died before they could try him; and well it was he did so, for, by all accounts, they'd have transported or hanged the poor ould man, who was then past seventy.

Now, over and above that, they'd have done the same thing with his son Fergus, but that he disappeared and but few knows what became of him." "Why, did he go without having had an interview with you ?" asked the Cooleen.
"Indeed he did, miss, and small blame to him; for the truth is, he had little time for leave-takin'-- it was as much as he could do to make his escape, which, thank God, he did.

But, indeed, I oughtn't to thank God for it, I doubt, because it would have been better, and ten times more creditable to himself, if he had been transported, or hanged himself--for that, ma'am, is many a good man's case, as every one knows." "I agree with you, Ellen.

There is, indeed, a most essential difference between flagitious crimes, such as theft, robbery, murder, and other dreadful outrages of that character, and those which may be termed offences arising from political opinions, which are often honestly entertained by individuals who, in all the relations of life, are sometimes the most exemplary members of society.