for the double execution.  At mid-day on Saturday, July 14th, the hapless men were removed to the room adjoining the place of execution, where they exchanged a last embrace.  They were then pinioned, the black caps put over their brows, and holding each other by the hand, they tottered out on the platform.  The elder brother was somewhat moved by the terrors of his situation, but the younger bore his fate with unflinching firmness.  They were launched together into eternity—­the same moment saw them dangling lifeless corpses before the prison walls.  They had lived in affectionate unity, inspired by the same motives, labouring for the same cause, and death did not dissolve the tie.  “They died hand in hand, like true brothers.”

When the hangman’s hideous office was completed, the bodies were taken down, and the executioner, in accordance with the barbarous custom of the time, proceeded to sever the heads from the bodies.  It is said, however, that only on the body of Henry Sheares was that horrible act performed.  While the arrangements for the execution were in progress, Sir Jonah Barrington had been making intercession with Lord Clare on their behalf, and beseeching at least a respite.  His lordship declared that the life of John Sheares could not be spared, but said that Henry might possibly have something to say which would induce the government to commute his sentence; he furnished Sir Jonah with an order to delay the execution one hour, and told him to communicate with Henry Sheares on the subject.  “I hastened,” writes Sir Jonah, “to Newgate, and arrived at the very moment that the executioner was holding up the head of my old college friend, and saying, ‘Here is the head of a traitor.’” The fact of this order having been issued by the government, may have so far interrupted the bloody work on the scaffold as to save the remains of the younger Sheares from mutilation.  The bodies of the patriots were interred on the night of the execution in the vaults of St. Michan’s church, where, enclosed in oaken coffins, marked in the usual manner with the names and ages of the deceased, they still repose.  Many a pious visit has since been paid to those dim chambers—­many a heart, filled with love and pity, has throbbed above those coffin lids—­many a tear has dropped upon them.  But it is not a feeling of grief alone that is inspired by the memory of those martyrs to freedom; hope, courage, constancy, are the lessons taught by their lives, and the patriotic spirit that ruled their career is still awake and active in Ireland.

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ROBERT EMMET.