During all this time the condemned lay in Salford gaol, tortured by the suspense inevitably created by Maguire's reprieve. Although every effort was made by their friends to keep them from grasping at or indulging in hope, the all-significant fact of that release seemed to imperatively forbid the idea of their being executed on a verdict whose falseness was thus confessed. The moment, however, that the singular conduct of the judges in London defeated the application of Mr. Roberts, they, one and all, resigned themselves to the worst; and while their fellow-countrymen at home were still utterly and scornfully incredulous on the subject, devoted their remaining hours exclusively to spiritual preparation for death upon the scaffold. It was now that each character "rushed to its index." It was now--within the very shadow of death--in the most awful crisis that can test the soul--that these men rose into the grandeur and sublimity of true heroism. 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.