dressed in deep black. She appeared in great affliction, but was accorded no sympathy. No one thought that anyone else had a right to be sad when the King was in Ireland. I subsequently saw the "woman in black," at the review in the Phoenix Park, vainly endeavouring to approach the Royal presence. I was a spectator of the various public demonstrations during the Royal sojourn, and enjoyed the exciting pageantry as anyone of my age and temperament might be supposed to do. I pass, however, to the day of the King's departure, the 3rd of September. On the morning of that day, the place of his embarkation was Dunleary, but on his arrival he changed its designation into "The Royal Harbour of Kingstown." He entered his barge very near the place where the commemorative column stands, and close to the inner end of the eastern pier. The "woman in black" somehow managed to get very near. She endeavoured in vain to address him, and just as the Royal barge was shoving off, she rushed forward, holding a paper in her hand, and, in her frantic haste, was precipitated into the water, from which, however, she was speedily rescued. The king saw enough of her exertions and mishap to excite his curiosity, and ordered her communication to be received and laid before him. It was a petition imploring the Royal mercy for her husband, who was then under sentence of death in a southern county, for burning his house with intent to defraud an insurance company. Her prayer was favourably considered. An act of clemency appeared peculiarly suitable to the termination of the Royal visit, and the sentence on John Sargeant was commuted to transportation. At the time to which I refer there was a considerable portion of Kilmainham prison appropriated to the reception of convicts under sentence of transportation; and in a short time after the successful exertions of the "woman in black" at Kingstown, John Sargeant was transmitted to Kilmainham, there to remain until a sufficient number of convicts were congregated to form a living freight for a transport ship, and to transfer the future advantages of their patriotic exertions to a southern hemisphere. I use the term "patriotic" in the same sense as the accomplished pickpocket, Borrington, applied it in a prologue spoken by him previous to the performance of a play at Sydney by a company consisting exclusively of transported thieves-- "True patriots we! for be it understood, We left our country for our country's good."