‘The night had closed around us as we approached a mountain chasm, and, after scrambling through a rude aperture in a stupendous rock, we found ourselves in a kind of natural recess, formed by an amphitheatre of surrounding hills, whose overhanging acclivities frowned in gloomy horror upon the little valley. By the light of the stars we could discern some persons, who had entered before us, proceeding towards the opposite side, and we accordingly followed in their footsteps. We had not proceeded far when the voice of a person speaking fell upon our ears, and I had not to listen long before I recognized the deep, but harmonious accents of my friend Emmet, as he addressed the people around him, who appeared to be about the number of five hundred. His harangue was on popular topics, of Irish grievances, and he spoke with a fervency of manner that showed him sincere in the sentiments he uttered. When he concluded, Malachy took his station, and proceeded to address the peasantry. I could not but observe in his speech, superior ingenuity. Emmet was more eloquent, but less artful; more impassioned, but less logical. There was sincerity in every word he uttered, and patriotism appeared to predominate in every measure he recommended, whilst humanity breathed throughout his discourse. But Malachy addressed himself directly to the passions, and so intimately blended religion with politics, that his auditors could scarcely suppress the operation of their feelings, and when he concluded, an involuntary burst of applause followed. ‘Denis, who had listened with the utmost attention to both speakers, now took me by the hand, and led me into the throng. Malachy cast his eye upon me, and instantly exclaimed, ‘A Spy!’ ‘A Spy!’ was re-echoed by a hundred voices, and in a moment the deferential horror of all present caused a circle to be formed around me, every man being eager to get as far as possible from what he considered the contagion of my presence. The indignation I felt at Malachy’s imputation for a moment deprived me of speech, and felt as if riveted to the place, when Emmet kindly stepped forward and took me by the hand. ‘My friends,’ said he, ‘there is some mistake; Mr. K—— is a young man of liberal principles, and high notions of honour, and I am certain that he is incapable of betraying our secret, much less acting as a spy upon our proceedings.’—‘You do me but justice,’ I replied, ‘for I came here this night to learn if your cause was such as required or deserved the assistance of a freeman’s arm, and not basely to betray my countrymen, for I trust those that surround me will not refuse me the fraternal embrace because I was born in England, while my parents and heart were ever Irish.’ This remark elicited much applause, and I proceeded: ‘I trust that the person who has imputed such a base motive to my presence here has mistaken me’—