able share in preparing, and modifying, the resolutions of both, and fully expressed my ideas, in the discussion of the whole-and as these resolutions were extensively publishedmy political creed, sentiments, and views, could not be unknown, either to the people, or government, of Ireland. I say, "government," as to Dungannon in particular, as, I believe it is well known that it, not only, had eyes, pens, and tongues, there, to watch, record, and report, all that passed; but a friend, in the disguise of a delegate, to offer the people of Ulster a frothy collation of whip-sillabub, garnished with a few faded flowers of oratory, instead of that substantial bread of reform, so necessary to restore the Irish constitution, and which the voice of Irishmen so eagerly called for. The liberality, wisdom, and moderation, of the Dungannon resolutions had very great, and opposite effects, on the government and people. With the people, all was hope and confidence, that parliament, pledged as it was by promise, would take up the question of reform, and wisely concede something conciliatory. This season, however, was of short duration. Government were alarmed, or pretended to be so ; and, in their alarms, whether real or pretended, gave themselves up to madness, instead of profiting by the lessons of wisdom, and imitating the the moderation and liberality of a loyal people. Hence, a series of acts of parliament, which followed each other, with hasty pace, and voice terrific, extinguished hope, revived alarm, and excited a mixed feeling of sorrow, indignation, and horror. But indignation nearly kindled into rage, on the apostacy of a majority of the delegates, who had appeared at Dungannon, as the zealous friends of a parliamentary reform, which would embrace all religious denominations and as enemies, equally zealous, to a war with France; a war which they had reprobated, and which the British empire has, long since, pronounced " accursed." The concurrence of the same apostates, afterward, in proclaiming the Northern counties, out of the king's peace, without cause, or provocation, except in the case of one county, and a few small districts on its borders, so completely exasperated the people, that disturbances would certainly have then taken place, had it not been for the exertions of those very persons, whom the agitating proclaimants afterwards devoted to ruin, perhaps for these very exertions. During the years 1795 and 6, when public provocations did not succeed, private emissaries were sent abroad to circulate alarms, and provoke jealousies. In my neighbourhood, it was not uncommon to see the lower presbyterians on one day, and the catholics on another, running from house to house, under the alarm that a massacre was to take take place on the succeeding night, and that their neighbours, with whom they had lived in peace and friendship, were to be the perpetrators. These alarms, and alarmists, I encountered and exposed; and, happily, with success. The effect, however, as to myself, was only charges of sedition, and threats of vengeance, as opportunity of executing them did not then occur. In October 1796, an attack was made on my congregation, in which it was confidently expected that I must fall. On the information, as was said, of one Carr, a poor weaver, a few of my hearers of great respectability, and, with some of whom, I lived in habits of the closest intimacy, were made prisoners, by col. Savage, of Portaferry, lord Castlereagh, and some other gentlemen of the neighbourhood, and brought in custody to Portaferry-house, where they were confined for a night, and, on the day following, transmitted to Downpatrick. At the same time Carr was sent off to Dublin, lodged in Kilmainhim, and, for a season comfortably supported: nor were his wife and children in the country, unprovided for. His information was confidently depended on, as sufficient to convict all to whom it extended, and strong hopes were entertained that he might be induced to implicate me. This circumstance was communicated to a friend of mine, by an officer officer of the North York Fencibles; and, being whispered about, I was warmly solicited to take the benefit of a proclamation, which had been formerly issued, or to leave the country. Conscious that truth could not charge me, with word or action, which could expose me to prosecution, I refused to do either. On the contrary, I visited my hearers, confined in Down, every week, until the end of December, which added fresh fuel to the flame which was to consume me. Luckily, for my friends, in confinement, I was tempted to make a trip to Dublin at that time. While there, I frequently visited a number of gentlemen, from Belfast, then prisoners in Kilmainhim. On one of these visits, I was told of Carr, that he was in solitary confinement, precluded from all intercourse with those in the goal-that he was frequently visited by people from the castle, and then treated with great severity, because his information fell short of his promises that he was sometimes nearly distracted, from a sense of guilt, and the distress of his wife and children, whom his seducers had then abandoned-and, that he could not prosecute, to conviction, one of the persons against whom he had sworn. On my asking how this could be ascertained, I was told that I might hear it all from his own lips, if I chose, and my own character also, before I left the gaol. I need not say, that I embraced the opportunity with avidity, and begged that I might be gratified. One of the prisoners immediately went out, and, returning in a few minutes, told me that the yard was clear. Having received my instructions to keep close by the wall, I, and two of the prisoners, went out into the yard. One of them took a ball, and, after various attempts, succeeded in throwing it through an open window, into an upper room. A man came to the window, returned the ball, and enquired what was wanted. Something was mentioned, respecting himself, which led him to a detail of all he had done, and all he had suffered. The detail was melancholy and infamous. It confirmed every thing told me, and discovered vastly more. On my name being mentioned, he gave me a most excellent character-perhaps, better than I deserved-declared that he had never seen me, nor even heard of my being scen, in any society of united Irishmen, though every body believed that I was one-that he had been frequently questioned about me, both in the North, and in Dublin-and, that the most tempting offers were made to him, if he would give information against me. On being pressed, in respect to |