He varied these attacks on the adminis- | her not being of our party. trators of affairs with writing affectionate Your affectionate son, letters to his mother, to whom he seems to have been much attached, and gardening. Here are extracts from some of them :

Pam is going on as well as possible, strong, healthy, and in good spirits. We drive and walk every day. She never thinks of what is to come, I believe, or if she does, it is with great courage; in short, I never saw her, I think, in such good spirits. Seeing her thus makes me so, and I feel happy and look forward with good hope. I must take care of the little young plant that is coming, which will give me great pleasure, I hope.

In the autumn of 1794 his first child placed himself at the head of rebel myr was born.

tally murdered, his body being absolutely perforated with pike wounds.

At Scullabog, they thrust several people into a barn, set fire to it, and let their prisoners roast. One little child managed to squeeze out, under the door, lacerating and bruising its flesh in its desperate endeavors to escape being burned, when a rebel seeing it, stuck his pike through the child, and flung it back into the flames.

A drummer boy, aged twelve, being taken prisoner, was ordered by the rebels to beat the drum. Actuated by a spirit of heroic loyalty, the poor little fellow replied, "That the king's drum should never be beaten for rebels!" and leaping on the head, broke the parchment, whereupon the bloodthirsty monsters instantly stabbed him in twenty different places.

At Wexford, when the town fell into the hands of the insurgents, Thomas Dixon, late commander of a trading vessel, set on foot a great massacre of the prisoners taken. They were brought from the prison, and were led to slaughter in batches, surrounded by a guard of inhuman butchers, yelling like demons, and preceded to the place of execution by a black flag, on which was a white cross, where they were put to death in different horrible ways, the most horrible and principal being by four men at once, who, standing two before and two behind each victim, thrust their pikes into his body and elevated him from the ground, holding him writhing in the air, till all signs of life ceased. Some of these prisoners were slaughtered at the market-house, some at the gaol, but the chief butchery was on the bridge, where this horrible spectacle was witnessed by a multitude of wretches, the chief part of whom were women, who considered it a gratifying sight, and rent the air with shouts of exultation at the arrival of each fresh batch of victims at the fatal spot! This dreadful slaughter commenced at two o'clock in the day and went on until no less than ninety-seven men had been deliberately murdered in cold blood, until, indeed, the news arrived, at seven o'clock in the evening, that the rebel post at Vinegar Hill had been carried by the king's troops. The only charge against these massacred unfortunates that Dixon and his brutal associates could urge was that they were Orangemen. Such scenes as these were worthy of the French Revolution, and one speculates as to what wheels within wheels could have driven Lord Edward Fitzgerald into the desperate course of leading and sympathizing with such monsters. Not

domestic unhappiness surely, for he and Pamela to the last were "husband-lover and sweetheart-wife." Was it pique and chagrin at being dismissed from the army, or purely republican sentiments and ideas? Who can tell? At any rate, in 1796, he gave himself over body and soul to the cause he had espoused, and joined the Society of United Irishmen, going over with Mr. Arthur O'Connor as agent, to treat with their French allies at Hamburg, and then to Basle, where negotiations were opened with the French Directory. On his return to Hamburg, Lord Edward travelled with a foreign lady, once the mistress of an acquaintance and friend of Mr. Pitt, with whom she still corresponded, and Lord Edward, ignorant, of course, of this fact, spoke very openly of political affairs, affording her some clues to the object of his journey, which she at once transmitted to Pitt's friend.

General Hoche, the conqueror of La Vendée, was appointed to take the command of the expedition to Ireland, and on the 15th of December, a noble armament sailed from Brest, but they encountered adverse winds, and then a tremendous gale, which scattered all and wrecked some of the French war-vessels, so that nothing was left but for them to return to France; only four of the line, two frigates, and one lugger, arriving together at Brest./

Negotiations were again opened between the rebels and the French government, but hope of succor from them was frequently frustrated; still it became clear to Lord Edward and his colleagues that, with or without help from that country, the struggle must soon come. Arthur O'Connor and a priest named Quickly were arrested at Margate on their way to France, on the 28th of February. This arrest greatly disconcerted the rebel leaders, and then one, a Mr. Thomas Reynolds of Kildare, betrayed his associates, and told a friend, Mr. Cope, that the Leinster delegates, on the 12th of March, were to meet at Oliver Bond's house.

The result of this treachery was the arrest of fifteen provincial members by Captain Swan, amongst whom were Emmet, Sampson, Dr. Macneven, Sweetson, and Jackson. Lord Edward and some others escaped, for a time.

Lord Edward sought refuge in the house of a widow lady, who lived on the banks of the canal, the Thursday after the ar rests at Bond's, contriving to see his wife and children before he went there, and he remained concealed in safety for a month, though with all the daring courage of an

Irishman, he often exposed himself to the | stant Lord Edward struck at Swan with a risk of detection by going to see Pamela, dagger, which, it now appeared, he had who had removed from the Duke of Lein- had in the bed with him; and immediately ster's to a house in Denzel Street," with," after, Ryan, armed only with a sword-cane, says Maxwell, "an imprudence not par- entered the room. donable in a leader on whose personal safety a mighty movement hinged."

his peculiar dress, the elastic lightness of his step, his fresh, healthful complexion, and the soft expression given to his eyes by their long, dark lashes, are as present and familiar to my memory as if I had intimately known him."

From a picture I have seen of Lord Edward, his eyes, indeed, must have been peculiarly beautiful, and his expression winning and amiable. His face was rather round, with a longish nose and pouting lips, while his brows were dark and well defined, and his hair glossy and abundant,

Though he was careful to make his will before dying, he had little to leave his wife and children. His fortune had been squandered in supporting the rebellion, and urged by poverty, shortly after his death, his beloved Pamela went to Hamburg, as living was cheap there, and it was in that city she met Mr. Pitcairn, the American consul, whom she afterwards married, and from whom she soon separated, this second marriage being anything save a happy one.

THE JOURNAL OF RICHARD BERE. IN the course of a search amongst the Sloane MSS. at the British Museum for a document of an entirely different character recently, I chanced upon a manuscript which so far as I have been able to discover has never yet been described in print or received the attention it appears to deserve. It is a long, narrow, book like an account book, in the Sloane binding, containing two hundred and forty-four pages of closely cramped and crowded little writing in faded ink on rough paper, recording the daily almost hourly movements of a man for eleven years, from She died, almost in want of common the 1st of January, 1692–3, to the middle necessaries, in 1831, thirty-three years of April, 1704. It is written in Spanish, after the death of Lord Edward. When Englishman's Spanish, full of solecisms I was at Plas Newydd, two or three years ago, the late owner showed me some carved apes over the mantelpiece in the bedroom which had been Lady Eleanor Butler's, supposed to be presents from Lord Edward Fitzgerald, apes, with the motto Crom a Boo being the crest and supporters in the armorial bearings of the house of Leinster. I was also shown a window, canopied with beautiful carved oak, called the garden window, through which it is said he escaped, when he paid his last visit to Plas Newydd, after he had escaped being arrested in Dublin in 1798. The story runs that he walked over the hills from Brynkinallt (Lord Dungannon's seat near Chirk) to see the ladies of Llangollen, who were then quite unconscious of the terrible fact that a thousand pounds was offered by the crown for his arrest at that time. He thought he was watched, fancying he saw a shadow pass the front window of the library, and so fled precip itately through the little narrow garden window.

This story may be true, but it seems to me, after a careful study of all accounts published at the time, that this unfortunate young nobleman never left Ireland after the 12th of March, when the provincial Leinster delegates were arrested at Oliver Bond's house, and a price set on his head, but remained hiding in the widow's house,

and English idioms, but fair and fluent Castilian for all that, and the diarist, thinking no doubt his secrets were safe in a language so little known at the time, has set down for his own satisfaction alone, and often in words that no amount of editing would render fit for publication, the daily life of one of the dissolute men about town, who roistered and ruffled in the coffee houses and taverns of London at the end of the seventeenth century. Few men could hope to possess the keen observation and diverting style of Samuel Pepys, or the sober judgment and foresight of stately John Evelyn, and this last contemporary diarist of theirs certainly cannot lay claim to any such qualities. He rarely records an impression or an opinion, and as a rule confines himself to a bald statement of his own movements and the people he meets day by day; but still, even such as it is, the diary is full of quaint and curious suggestions of the intimate life of a London widely different from ours. The familiar names of the streets, nay, the very signs of the taverns, are the same now as then, but in every line of the fading brown ink may be gathered hints of the vast chasm that separates the busy, crowded life of to-day from the loitering deliberation with which

Sloane MS., 2727, British Museum.

these beaux in swords and high-piled periwigs sauntered through their tavernhaunting existence. It strikes the imagination, too, to think that the man who thus sets down so coarsely and frankly the acts of his life must have listened, with however little appreciation, to_the_luminous talk of wondrous John Dryden at Will's coffee house, most certainly knew the rising Mr. Addison, and probably met Matthew Prior at his old home at the Rummer tavern, which the diarist frequented.

There is nothing in the manuscript directly to identify the writer, and probably the indirect clues furnished by references to his relatives have never before been followed up to prove exactly who the author was. The task has not been an easy one, and has started me on more than one false scent ending in a check, but at last I stumbled on evidence that not only absolutely identified the diarist, but also explained many obscure passages in the manuscript.

mental Hasted (History of Kent) to be hopelessly wrong about the Fogge pedigree and the ownership of Danes Court, and the whole question was settled more completely than I could have hoped by the discovery, in the "Transactions of the Kent Archæological Society for 1863," of a copy of the copious memoranda in the old family Bible, written by the stout cavalier, Richard Fogge, and his son John, with the notes attached thereto by Warren, the Kentish antiquary, in 1711, in which the family history is made clear. This was good as far as it went, and proved the surname and parentage of the author of the diary, but did not identify him personally. Certain references in the manuscript, however, sent me searching amongst the Treasury papers in the Record Office, and there I found a set of papers written in the same cramped, finnicking hand as the diary, which set my mind at rest, and proved beyond doubt or question who was the methodical rake that indiscreetly confided the secret of his From the first page to the last the writer "goings on" to the incomplete oblivion refers to Danes Court, near Deal, as the of the Spanish tongue. The writer of the home of his brother, and he himself passes diary was one Richard Bere, whose father the intervals of his dissolute life in Lon- was rector of Ickenham, near Uxbridge, don in visits to his Kentish kinsman. and who was born at Cowley, near there, Now Danes Court had been for centuries on the 28th of August, 1653. His sister in the possession of the ancient family of Elizabeth had married, in 1679, John Fogge, and I at once concluded that the Fogge, who subsequently succeeded to writer of my diary was a younger member the Danes Court estate, and on the fly of the house. Indeed, encouraged therein leaf of the Fogge family Bible referred to, by Hasted, the great authority on Kentish John Fogge, who was evidently proud of history, I went so far as to establish to the connection, sets forth that his wife's my own entire satisfaction that the diarist grandfather had been "Receiver General was a certain Captain Christopher Fogge, of ye Low Countries; her uncles, one of R.N., who died in 1708, and was buried in them was in a noble imploy in ye C Rochester Cathedral, and I was confirmed Clarke's office, ye other being one of ye in this belief by the fact that the wind and clarkes of ye signet to King Charles II., a weather of each day is carefully recorded man acquainted with all Xtian languages. as in a sailor's log-book. But somehow it Ye other now alive is rector of Bendropp did not fit in. Constant reference is made in Gloucestershire, who has an Estate. to a brother Francis, and no amount of Her mother was one of ye family of Bland, patient investigation in county genealogies of London, eminent merchants at Home and baptismal certificates could unearth and Abroad." Richard Bere was born any one named Francis Fogge. So I only a year after his sister, so that the had to hark back and try another clue. statement as to her relatives will hold Brother Francis was evidently a clergy-good for him also. He had been collector man and a graduate of King's College, Cambridge, and towards the end of the diary the author visits him at the village of Prescot, near Liverpool.

Sure enough the rich living of Prescot was in the gift of King's College, Cambridge, and further inquiry soon showed that a certain Francis Bere, M.A., was rector from 1700 until his death in 1722. This, of itself, was not much, but it led to further clues, which proved the monu

of customs at Carlisle, but apparently had allowed his Jacobite leanings to be too evident, and had been dismissed from his office a short time before he began the diary, leaving his accounts at Carlisle still unbalanced and in arrear. How he learnt Spanish I do not know, but he had evidently been in Spain before his appointment to Carlisle, probably in the navy, or in some way connected with shipping, as in addition to the careful noting of the