Having answered all questions by the Attorney and the Grand Jury, they asked me to see the prisoner, and testify whether he was the ex-Priest Riordan, now giving his name as Ruthven. I thereon handed the Attorney a pamphlet exposing the evils and errors of Popery, being three Lectures by V. H. Riordan, with his portrait on the front page. They all at once recognized him by this likeness. Nevertheless, I was enjoined to go and see him, and report what took place. He was behind an iron-grated door, and two ladies were conversing with him from without. Addressing him at once by his name, I said: “It grieves me to see you here in these circumstances, Mr. Riordan.” Completely off his guard, he at once answered to his own name, and addressed me by mine: “And I am very sorry, Dr. Paton, to be here in such circumstances.” This was enough! I reported what transpired, and the Jury took a hearty laugh at the simplicity of the interview. I was dismissed for the time. In answer to the Prosecutor, he explained that when he renounced the errors of Popery, he assumed his mother’s name for life—Ruthven; yet there they had his own pamphlet, with his real name, printed in Philadelphia less than two years before! Being committed for trial before the Supreme Court, he spent his time of waiting in abusing me from his cell through the pages of a Sunday newspaper, as “a drunkard” debauching my Sacred Office, and “a hireling” living by commission on the moneys raised for the Mission. So madly did he rage, that some suspected he was put up to do so, in order that his agent might work up a plea of insanity, if the case at last went against him. At his trial, which occupied the greater part of three days, I was again cited to appear. The Jury found him “guilty,” but strangely enough recommended him to mercy, and his lawyer pled for a money fine as the penalty. The Judge sternly refused. He had been found guilty in every count. His sentence would be “twelve months in prison with hard labor.” That was “extreme leniency.” It should have been “three years.” One would have thought that this should have extinguished him. But no! His imprisonment has expired. He is again at his lecturing and lying. Quite lately I saw a report of his appearing at a place called Dunmore. The Romanists mobbed him. In reply to their eggs and snowballs he fired a pistol into the crowd. The cry then rose, “Lynch the Renegade!” Ruthven, bounding through an open door, scaling fences, and crossing lots, managed to escape. But a warrant was at once issued for his apprehension, and doubtless he is proving the truth of one text, which he has listened to in vain: “The way of transgressors is hard.”