They were a brother and sister, the former educated for the Church, and the latter highly gifted and educated far above her condition.

I never knew a woman, in any rank of life, of nobler character or a more heroic nature.

She had the richest store of womanly tenderness and kindly affections.

She took the veil at the Dungarvan Convent in very early youth, where she died two years afterwards.

I asked for some food, and while it was being prepared I wrote the following lines on a blank leaf of a book belonging to my dead friend:-- Bliss to thy spirit, gentlest maid, Fond, faithful and beloved; how oft, Within the circle of this glowing glade, Our mingling souls had soared aloft; And wooed the knowledge of our destiny-- What is it?
I a fugitive, and thou on high.
Yet hopeless of the land I'd save, Nay, spurned by those for whom I'd die, Unknown where your fond welcome gave, There's still a throb of ecstasy.
Even though the latest I may feel on earth.
In lingering o'er the scene where thou hadst birth.
Where wrapt by evening's crimson flush, We hoped, and felt, and breathed together, Beside the broad Suir's silent gush, Or resting on yon mountain heather; And dared to look beyond the narrow span, That circumscribed the hope of man.
How sweet, if from the blessed spheres, Thou didst bestow one look of love, To cheer the hearts and dry the tears Of those whose only hope's above; And win, beloved one, from the throne of light, One saving ray for our long slavery's night.
Or if this may not be, and yet Her old doom clings unto the land; If on her brow the brand be set, And she must bear the chastening hand For longer years, O grant, sweet saint, to me, To die as if my arm had made her free.
GLENN, _August 3, 1848._ I left Glenn next morning, with still some hope remaining, and sought out my friend to learn his success and prospects.