Early next morning--Saturday, 23rd November, 1867--men poured into the cities and towns of Ireland reached by telegraphic communication, to learn "the news from Manchester." Language literally fails to convey an idea of the horror--the stupefaction--that ensued when that news was read:-- "_This morning, at eight o'clock, the three condemned Fenians, Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien, were executed in front of Sulford Gaol._" Men gasped in awe-struck horror--speech seemed denied them. Could it be a dream, or was this a reality? Had men lived to see the day when such a deed could be done? For the reason that incredulity had been so strong before, wild, haggard horror now sat on every countenance, and froze the life-blood in every heart. Irishmen had lain quiescent, persuaded that in this seventh decade of the nineteenth century, some humanizing influences would be found to sway that power that in the past, at least, had ever been so merciless to Irish victims. But now! Alas!-- In that dreadful hour the gulf between the two nations seemed widened and deepened, until it gaped and yawned wide, deep, and dark as hell itself. There was a scowl on every brow. Men went about--sullen, moody, silent, morose--with clenched teeth and darkened faces, terrible passions raging in their bosoms. For all knew that the sacrifice of those three Irish patriots was a cold-blooded and cowardly act of English policy, more than a judicial proceeding--an act of English panic, cowardice, hate, and terror. All knew that Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien would never have been hanged on the evidence of those forsworn witnesses, and on the verdict of that jury whose perjury or blunder was openly confessed and proclaimed, but for the political aspirations and designs of which the rescue was judged to be an illustration. Had their offence been non-political, they would not have been held a day on such a verdict. They were put to death for their political opinions. They were put to death for political reasons. Their execution was meant to strike terror into Irishmen daring to mutter of liberty. Had they been Americans, like Shore, they would have been respited; but as they were Irishmen, they were immolated. The full story of how those patriots met their fate at the last reached Ireland two days afterwards, and intensified a thousandfold the national emotions. Men were alternately melted into tears or maddened into passion as they read that sad chapter of Irish martyrdom.