They looked death in the face with serene and
cheerful composure. So far from requiring consolation, it was they
who strove most earnestly to console the grieving friends they were
leaving behind; imploring of them to exhibit resignation to the will
of God, and assuring them that, ignominious as was death upon the
gallows, and terrible as was the idea of suffering such a fate
unjustly, it was "not hard to die" with a clear and tranquil
conscience, as they were dying, for the cause of native land.
It may be questioned whether the martyrology of any nation in history
can exhibit anything more noble, more edifying--more elevating and
inspiring--than the last hours of these doomed Irishmen. Their
every thought, their every utterance, was full of tenderness and
holiness--full of firmness and cheerful acceptance of God's will.
The farewell letters addressed by them to their relatives and
friends--from which we take a few--amply illustrate the truth of
the foregoing observations. Here is O'Brien's last letter to his
brother:--
New Bailey Prison, Salford,
Nov. 14th, 1867.
My dear brother--I have been intending to write to you
for some time, but having seen a letter from a Mr. Moore,
addressed to the governor of this prison, and knowing from
that that you must be in a disagreeable state of suspense, I
may therefore let you know how I am at once.
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