a public body, originated with myself. I suggested to an association that had been established, under circumstances of great interest, their peculiar fitness to undertake the duty of restoring the honored remains to their native land. I say peculiar fitness for this reason: The cemetery committee to which I refer was thus established: Before the year 1829, and when party and religious feeling had prevailed to a deplorable degree in Ireland, a Roman Catholic of respectability, whose family burial-place was in a grave-yard attached to a Protestant Church, died, and his remains were attended to the grave by a vast concourse of his friends, and by a clergyman to perform the customary ceremonies of the Catholic Church. The grave-yard being, in point of law, the freehold of the parson, this functionary enjoyed a high proprietary right, and the reverend gentleman thought fit to interrupt the priest, who was in the performance of his religious duties. This unseemly ocCurrence produced great public excitement, which subsequently led to a legal enactment, introduced by Lord Plunket, regulating and modifying the power so offensively used in this case; but, è ossibus ultor, the public indignation demanded vengeance for this act, and it was accordingly taken. The Catholic Association, then a powerful confederacy, voted a sum of money for the establishment of a cemetery, in whose constitution there should be no principle of religious ascendency; and, accordingly, the cemetery committee sprang into existence. The catacombs of the Established Church no longer received Catholic tenants. Magnificent burial-places-in which the dust of Protestants and Catholics might mingle, sanctified, too, by the ceremonials of the faith in which the followers of each religion had lived and died-are established in the metropolis; and with funds raised from the operation of this scheme, the cemetery committee, among other honorable works, undertook the pious duty of transferring the remains of Curran to Ireland. This was attended with some difficulty and considerable expense. It was necessary to obtain a faculty from the Consistorial Court to warrant the proceeding. The body, however,

being exhumed, and the necessary arrangements having been accomplished under the direction of an eminent undertaker, with the consent of the late Alderman Sir M. Wood, it was removed to his house in George Street, Westminster, where it lay for one night, I think, and was then transferred to Ireland, in charge of a worthy man deputed to superintend the arrangements; and being, on its arrival, received by Mr. W. H. Curran and Mr. O'Kelly, a zealous member of the committee, was deposited temporarily in the mausoleum at Lyons, the resi dence of Curran's intimate friend, Lord Cloncurry; and it was finally removed, attended by W. H. Curran, John Finlay, Con Lyne (who was one of the mourners at the funeral when it took place originally at Paddington), and myself, to a grave prepared for its reception at Glasnevin, where it now reposes. There were some circumstances attendant on the removal of the remains from the mausoleum at Lyons to the cemetery which invested the proceeding with a melancholy interest. Į think it was on a very gloomy day of November that the remains were removed with strict privacy to Dublin. Toward night, and as we arrived in the metropolis, the weather was marked by peculiar severity; the rain fell in torrents, and a violent storm howled, while the darkness was relieved occasionally by vivid lightning, accompanied by peals of thunder. This added much to the solemnity of the scene as we passed slowly through the streets, from which the violence of the night had driven almost all persons. As we approached the cemetery, where groups of workmen, by the aid of torches, were engaged in making the necessary preparation for the deposit of the remains, the scene became most impressive and affecting; and after a brief period of delay, during which all around stood with uncovered heads as the body of the great Irishman was lowered to its place of final repose, the scene was marked by every feature of a grand and impressive picture of devotion. A magnificent monument of granite, from the design of Papworth, on the model of the tomb of Scipio, with the simple and impressive inscription of the name "CURRAN," is placed

over the remains. The cost of this erection, as well as of a beautiful monument with a medallion likeness in relief, in St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin, the work of the sculptor Moore, was defrayed by a public subscription, to which John Finlay, J. S. Corballis, and myself were trustees. The officers of the Cathedral of St. Patrick, who were entitled to certain fees on the erection of this monument, generously claimed to add the amount of these fees to the common object.

"Yours ever truly,

"LONDON, October, 1850."

A. CAREW O'DWYER.

It had been proposed that this ceremonial should have been public, and performed amid all the pageantry of a national procession. To this, however, neither the good taste nor the good feeling of his son would assent. Thus at length, at the end of many years, the prophetic words of Curran were verified: "The last duties will be paid by that country on which they are devolved; nor will it be for charity that a little earth will be given to my bones. Tenderly will those duties be paid, as the debt of well-earned affection and of gratitude not ashamed of her tears."

APPENDIX.

MR. CURRAN'S SPEECH IN REPLY, FOR THE PLAINTIFF, IN MASSEY v. THE MARQUIS OF HEADFORD.

NEVER SO clearly as in the present instance have I observed that safeguard of justice which Providence has placed in the nature of man. Such is the imperious dominion with which truth and reason wave their scepter over the human intellect, that no solicitation, however artful— no talent, however commanding-can seduce it from its allegiance. In proportion to the humility of our submission to its rule do we rise into some faint emulation of that ineffable and presiding divinity, whose characteristic attribute it is to be coerced and bound by the inexorable laws of its own nature, so as to be all-wise and all-just from necessity rather than election. You have seen it in the learned advocate who has preceded me most peculiarly and strikingly illustrated. You have seen even his great talents, perhaps the first in any country, languishing under a cause too weak to carry him, and too heavy to be carried by him. He was forced to dismiss his natural candor and sincerity, and, having no merits in his case, to take refuge in the dignity of his own manner, the resources of his own ingenuity, from the overwhelming difficulties with which he was surrounded. Wretched client! unhappy advocate! what a combination do you form! But such is the condition of guiltits commission mean and tremulous-its defense artificial and insincere -its prosecution candid and simple-its condemnation dignified and austere. Such has been the defendant's guilt-such his defense-such shall be my address to you-and such, I trust, your verdict. The learned counsel has told you that this unfortunate woman is not to be estimated at forty thousand pounds-fatal and unquestionable is the truth of this assertion. Alas! gentlemen, she is no longer worth any thing; faded, fallen, degraded, and disgraced, she is worth less than nothing! But it is for the honor, the hope, the expectation, the tenderness, and the comforts that have been blasted by the defendant, and have fled forever, that you are to remunerate the plaintiff by the punishment of the defendant. It is not her present value which you are to weigh, but it is her value at that time when she sat basking in a husband's love, with the blessing of Heaven on her head, and its purity in her heart; when she sat among her family, and administered the mo