At the time of Sargeant's arrival at Kilmainham, I had a very near relative who was a member of the committee or board which superintended the gaol, and I frequently accompanied him to the prison. Sargeant was a person of considerable educational acquirements. He managed to ingratiate himself with some of the authorities of the convict depôt, especially with a Dr. Trevor. He was frequently employed in copying documents, which business he discharged most satisfactorily; and I have often seen him thus engaged. When the other convicts were sent off, some pretext or excuse was made available for retaining him, and after the expiration of two years, he succeeded in obtaining a pardon, and was released from confinement. The "woman in black" did not witness his liberation; she had previously succumbed to that fate which crime inflicts most severely on those whose love clings to unworthy and guilty objects, even in suffering and disgrace; love which, like the ivy, will embrace a ruin with greater tenacity than it would if the structure stood in its pristine strength or in renovated beauty. About three years more had elapsed, and I was residing in London, attending the number of terms requisite for a call to the Irish Bar. At Gray's Inn I was an adept in all the duties then requisite for an admission to the status of a learned barrister-at-law, and indeed I brought to their inception no slight qualifications. I could decant old crusted Port without a funnel, my carving was considered faultless, and the salads of my dressing would gratify the palate of Apicius Coelius. In that society there was far greater intercourse between the Bar and the students than I ever observed at our King's Inns. I frequently derived great pleasure and, I believe, no slight advantage, from the conversation of those whose deep research and matured experience qualified them to utter words of wisdom and suggestions of prudence to their juniors. I was fond of attending the courts, and criminal trials possessed for me a peculiar attraction. One day I sat close to two barristers whom I had occasionally met previously. They spoke with great interest of a trial which was expected to be held at the Old Bailey on the following morning, and suggested to me to be present at it, and I followed their advice. The prisoner was alleged to have been concerned in various frauds, but the specific offence for which he was tried was for obtaining upwards of £800 under false pretences and representations, and by means of forged documents. It appeared that a West Indian Creole, Mr. D----, had arrived in London some months previous, possessed of an immense fortune. He indulged in habits of extravagance most frivolous and ostentatious. He fell into the error of considering fast society good society, and formed acquaintances and established confidences which a very moderate share of discretion would have made him avoid. Mr. D---- had seen a lady, a member of a noble family, whose ancient lineage