Mr. Roberts, they, one and all, resigned themselves to the worst;
and while their fellow-countrymen at home were still utterly and
scornfully incredulous on the subject, devoted their remaining hours
exclusively to spiritual preparation for death upon the scaffold.

It was now that each character "rushed to its index." It was
now--within the very shadow of death--in the most awful crisis that
can test the soul--that these men rose into the grandeur and sublimity
of true heroism. They looked death in the face with serene and
cheerful composure. So far from requiring consolation, it was they
who strove most earnestly to console the grieving friends they were
leaving behind; imploring of them to exhibit resignation to the will
of God, and assuring them that, ignominious as was death upon the
gallows, and terrible as was the idea of suffering such a fate
unjustly, it was "not hard to die" with a clear and tranquil
conscience, as they were dying, for the cause of native land.

It may be questioned whether the martyrology of any nation in history
can exhibit anything more noble, more edifying--more elevating and
inspiring--than the last hours of these doomed Irishmen. Their
every thought, their every utterance, was full of tenderness and
holiness--full of firmness and cheerful acceptance of God's will.
The farewell letters addressed by them to their relatives and
friends--from which we take a few--amply illustrate the truth of
the foregoing observations. Here is O'Brien's last letter to his
brother:--

New Bailey Prison, Salford,

Nov. 14th, 1867.