"The natural leaders,' as they were called, of the Catholics," said he, "the Catholic aristocracy, were jealous at seeing the leadership, which they were incapable of managing, taken out of their hands by lawyers and merchants. Efforts were occasionally made to control what they were pleased to deem the vulgar violence of our exertions. In 1807, a certain aristocratic banker visited the Catholic Board one day, and delivered himself of some advice that savoured suspiciously of Castle influence. I remember that he accused the Catholic barristers of clamouring for emancipation merely in order to qualify themselves for office. I opposed him, of course, and I had a stout ally in Peter Bodkin Hussey, who discarded all ceremony from his attack on the invader. Peter's speech was extremely characteristic of his sagacity, his coarseness, and his impudence. I understand this gentleman,' said Peter, 'just as well as if I was inside his head. He has talked about Catholic barristers having personal objects to gain. I tell him there are Catholic bankers who have personal objects to gain. I won't mince the matter, and I boldly declare my conviction that his advice is dishonest. I tell him, moreover, that although I only chastise him verbally now, in the hope that he may take himself quietly off, and give us no further trouble, yet I would hesi

tate just as little to chastise him personally if he should come here again on a similar errand. The intruder took the hint and decamped. Peter Bodkin Hussey," continued Mr. O'Connell, "was in general as rough-tongued a fellow as I ever met, saying ill-natured things of everybody, and goodnatured things of nobody. He piqued himself on his impertinence. It was not, however, a bad reply he made to another impertinent fellow who hailed him one day in the Four Courts, saying, 'Peter, I'll bet you a guinea that you are a more impertinent rascal than I am.' 'You'd win your guinea," answered Peter, 'I am certainly the more impernent. You are only impertinent to those who you know won't knock you down for it—but I am impertinent to everybody.""

I asked him his opinion of the noted "Jack Lawless" as a public speaker.

"He began admirably," replied Mr. O'Connell, "and proceeded wretchedly. His first four or five sentences were exceedingly good; the language excellent, the sentiments impressive, the delivery admirable. But then he began to fail, and continued to the end in a strain of incoherence. Sometimes, indeed, he got off right well—that is, if he was interrupted near the outset. He would then reiterate his opening points with excellent effect, and

with the spirit which the stimulus of a little brushing opposition infused into his manner.

"But Jack was an unpleasant sort of fellow to transact public business with. One day in committee Jack told us he meant to bring publicly forward at that day's meeting a certain topic, which I was of opinion it would be infinitely wiser and more prudent to leave in the shade. I expressed that opinion very strongly, and was backed by many persons. Lawless seemed reluctant to acquiesce, but at last he said, 'O'Connell, you are right-I see you are quite right. I shall say nothing on that subject at the meeting.' I thanked him for his acquiescence, and in order to make assurance doubly sure, I said to him as we were passing through the little boarded entry into the great room, 'Now, Jack, you'll be sure to hold your tongue about that affair?' 'Do you mean to doubt my word?' retorted Jack, rather angrily; 'Have I not promised to be silent? I consider my honour as pledged.' I was quite satisfied, and we went in. I moved somebody into the chair, and sat down to look over a letter, when up started Jack, and dashed full into the topic upon which he had just promised silence! Of course I had to draw the sword upon him in reply."

This wayward and unmanageable gentleman

greatly liked the excitement of a skirmish. I am told that after receiving a severe castigation from O'Connell, he would skip into the committee-room, rubbing his hands in the highest glee, and exclaiming, "Well, had not we a nice debate?"

Speaking of the victory of 1829, Mr. O'Connell expressed his conviction that one of the causes that induced the Duke of Wellington to grant Emancipation, was his grace's knowledge that a large part of the army were devoted to the Catholic cause.

"After the Clare election," said he, "there was a remarkably fine young man named Ryan, as handsome a fellow as ever I saw, who had been made a serjeant, although not more than a year in the army. In one of our popular processions, we encountered a marching detachment; and as my carriage passed, this young serjeant walked away from his men, and asked me to shake hands with him. In acting as I now do,' said he, 'I am guilty of infringing military discipline. Perhaps I may be flogged for it--but I don't care-let them punish me in any way they please let them flog me, and send me back to the ranks-I have had the satisfaction of shaking the hand of the Father of my country.' There were many unequivocal indications of a similar spirit in the army; and doubtless such

a spirit among the troops was not without its due weight with the duke. As to my enthusiastic friend, the young serjeant, I afterwards learned that his little escapade was overlooked—and right glad I was to find that his devotion to me entailed no punishment upon him."

In talk such as this passed the day. We slept at the Royal Oak, and at six o'clock next morning we resumed our journey. At Kilkenny, where we breakfasted, many of the leading Repealers of the city waited on Mr. O'Connell to urge him to resume immediately the agitation of the Repeal of the Union. He replied, that he felt well inclined to comply with their advice, but that as the period had not yet quite expired which he had resolved on employing in the experiment to obtain from the Imperial Legislature the performance of the pledge they had given in 1834, " to do justice to Ireland,” he would postpone the renewed agitation of Repeal until the end of the session of the following year.

From Kilkenny we proceeded to Clogheen, in the county Tipperary, near which village we quitted the turnpike-road, and ascended the mountains that form the boundary between the counties of Tipperary and Waterford. The weather, which had been showery at Clogheen, became rapidly worse, and ere we had made half a mile of ascent, it blew