likes the emolument which office brings.  But, gentlemen of the jury, it will be your fault if you make your shoulders the stepping-stone for the Attorney-General to spring upon the bench.  I say these words to you in sober, solemn earnestness.  You are now trying a man who has lived all his life-time in a country where freedom is venerated and adored.  You may believe, gentlemen, that you have the speech of freedom here; but I claim, gentlemen, that the real spirit of freedom has fled these shores many a century ago—­has sped across the Atlantic, and perched upon American soil; and, gentlemen, it ought to be your wish and desire—­as I am sure it is, for I am unwilling to believe that you are the men the Attorney-General deems you to be—­to do me justice, and to prove that Dublin juries do not on all occasions bring in a verdict at the dictation of the Crown.  Gentlemen, the principle of freedom is at stake.  Every man that is born into this world has a right to freedom, unless he forfeits that right by his own misdemeanour.  Perhaps you have read the Declaration of American Independence.  In that declaration, drawn up by one Thomas Jefferson, it is stated that every man born into this world is born free and equal; that he has the right—­the inalienable right—­to live in liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  These are the cardinal principles of liberty.  I claim these rights, unless I have forfeited them by my own misconduct.  I claim there is not one particle, one scintilla, of evidence to warrant you in finding a verdict for the Crown.  I have not conspired with General Roberts or any of these other generals.  There is no evidence to show you anything about any such conspiracy, as far as I am concerned.  With these facts before you, I ask you, as reasonable men, is there one particle of evidence to show that I am guilty of the charges preferred against me?  I shall simply conclude by repeating the words with which I commenced—­that I leave it between your conscience and your God to find a verdict according to the evidence and, the truth.  I leave it to you in the name of that sacred justice which we all profess to venerate, and I ask you not to allow your passion or your prejudices to cloud your judgments—­not to allow the country to say that the Dublin juries are in the breeches-pocket of the Attorney-General.  Never let it be said that a prisoner, forced into your country, carried off from the steamer which was bearing him away from yours to his own, has been found guilty on the evidence of perjured witnesses.  Never let the world say that a Dublin jury are not as honest as any other.  Do not allow those acrimonious feelings which unfortunately in this country difference of sect engenders, to have anything to with your verdict.  As far as I am concerned, I ask no favour from you.  I ask no favour from any man that lives in the world.  I have always, gentlemen, adhered to my own principles, and will do so while I am able.  If you consent to send me for my life to a penitentiary you will