Had Flanagan's confederates consulted him, he would of course have dissuaded them from sending any petition at all, or at least, only such as he could approve of, but such is the hollowness of this bond, and so little confidence is placed in its obligation, that when any of its victims happen to find themselves in a predicament similar to Flanagan's, his companions without lead such a life of terror, and suspicion, and doubt, as it would be difficult to describe. But when, as in Bartle's case, there exists a strong distrust in his firmness and honesty, scarcely one can be found hardy enough--to hold any communication with him. This easily and truly accounts for the fact of their having got this petition written and sent to government in his name. The consequence was, that, on the day previous to that named for his execution, his death warrant reached the sheriff, who lost no time in apprising him of his unhappy fate. This was a trying task to that humane and amiable gentleman, who had already heard of the unutterable tortures which the criminal suffered from the horror of approaching death, and the dread of eternity; for neither by penitence nor even by remorse, was he in the slightest degree moved. “To die!” said he, staggering back; “to be in eternity to-morrow! to have to face God before twelve o'clock! tarrible! tar--rible! tarrible! Can no one save me? To die to--morrow!--tarrible!--tarrible!--tarrible! Oh that I could sink into the earth! that the ground 'ud swlly me!” The sheriff advised him to be a man, and told him to turn to God,--who, if he repented, would in no wise cast him out. “Act,” said he, “as O'Donovan did, whom you yourself prosecuted and placed in the very cell in which you now stand.” “Connor O'Donovan!” he exclaimed, “he might well bear to die; he was innocent; it was I that burned Bodagh Buie's haggard; he had neither act nor part in it no more than the child unborn. I swore away his life out of revinge to his father an' jealousy of himself about Una O'Brien. Oh, if I had as little to answer for now as he, I could die--die! Sweet Jasus, an' must I die to-morrow--be in the flames o' hell afore twelve o'clock? tarrible! terrible!” It was absolutely, to use his own word, “terrible,” to witness the almost superhuman energy of his weakness. On making this last disclosure to the sheriff, the latter stepped back from a feeling of involuntary surprise and aversion, exclaiming as he did it,-- “Oh, God forgive you, unhappy and guilty man! you have much, indeed, to answer for; and, as I said before, I advise you to make the most of the short time that is allotted to you, in repenting and seeking pardon from God.” The culprit heard him not, however, for his whole soul was fearfully absorbed in the contemplation of eternity and punishment, and death.