The debate was long and warm, but Mr. O'Brien's objections were even more immovable than ever. It will not be expected that all the proposals of that evening should be reproduced here. Suffice it, therefore, to add that as far as the principles by which Mr. O'Brien's conduct was guided, he adhered to them the more steadfastly in proportion as ruin became more inevitable. Many calumnies have been circulated respecting that meeting. It has been said that the discussion was acrimonious and the separation final. The truth is, there was not one word, even, of an angry tone, and we separated just as on the former occasion, determined to cope as best we could with a doom we were unable to avert. Often afterwards it was a source of melancholy pleasure to some of his comrades that he had not been induced to incur what he regarded as guilt. The lofty consciousness of unerring rectitude which sustained his fortitude could not fail to be chequered by the recollection of acts which in his own estimation were not purely blameless. Had success attended the suggested proposals, they would receive the world's unqualified approval; while failure, explained through the medium of a malicious law, and a warped and cowardly public opinion, would brand them as iniquitous. But Mr. O'Brien's scrupulous sense of honour escaped the hazards of such feeble probabilities; and in the hour of deepest gloom his own unsullied conscience shed peace, light and glory on his fate. [Illustration: A Street in Ballingarry, 1848]