THE NOVELS 
 
 OF 
 
 SAMUEL LOVER 
 
 [)<intn> Librarp tuition 
 
 RORY O'MORE 
 
Rory O'More 
 
 A National Romance 
 
 By 
 
 Samuel Lover 
 
 With a Biographical and Critical 
 
 Introduction 
 By James Jeffrey Roche 
 
 Boston 
 Little, Brown, and Company 
 
 if TalrT i 
 
Copyright, fpOf, by 
 LITTLE, BROWN, Sf Co. 
 
 S. J. PARKHILL ft Co., BOSTON. U. S. A. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 SAMUEL LOVER was the oldest son of John 
 Lover, a Dublin stockbroker, and his wife, 
 Abigail, whose maiden name was Maher. The pa- 
 ternal name would seem to be of English origin, 
 though no tradition exists to show whether it was 
 so or not. The custom which prevailed so long in 
 Ireland of compelling the natives to adopt English 
 surnames leaves the genealogy of the Lovers, in the 
 absence of any family records, in a state of uncer- 
 tainty like that of thousands of other Irish families. 
 We know only that the family were Protestant, and 
 thus safe from most of the annoyances and all of the 
 disabilities laid upon the large majority of their country- 
 men, at the troublous time when young Lover was 
 born, which was on the twenty-fourth of February, 
 1797. 
 
 It was the year before the outbreak known as the 
 Rebellion of '98. Even those of the dominant faith 
 and unquestioned loyalty were not always safe from 
 the outrages perpetrated by a brutal soldiery in the 
 hour of their insolence. One of Lover's earliest ex- 
 periences, which made a lasting impression on his 
 mind, is narrated by Bayle Bernard as follows : 
 
 " Soldiers, in those days, were billeted on the citi* 
 
vi Introduction 
 
 zens of Dublin, but the occupants of private houses 
 had the option of giving a trooper a shilling, in order 
 that he might get a bed elsewhere. On one occa- 
 sion, when Mr. Lover was absent at his office, a 
 soldier with a drummer-boy made his appearance at 
 his door, and on being tendered the two shillings, 
 refused to take them, and insisted on sleeping in the 
 house instead, coupling the demand with a remark 
 and look which were very offensive to Mrs. Lover. 
 Ordered to wait outside the dwelling while she sent 
 word to the l Billet Office,' he boldly entered the hall 
 and tried to close the door, upon which Mrs. Lover 
 in her fright rushed to the steps, followed by her 
 child, where she was discovered by her husband, 
 when he at length returned from business, trembling, 
 pallid, and almost speechless. Enraged, of course, 
 at such an insult, he sprang into the house, when 
 the soldier attempted to draw his bayonet, but was 
 speedily knocked down and afterwards closed with 
 in a struggle, which lasted amidst the yells of Mas- 
 ter Samuel and the drummer-boy until an officer ar- 
 rived from the Billet Office to offer an apology and 
 remove the culprit." 
 
 It was the era in which " the Fine Old Irish Gentle- 
 man " flourished most luxuriantly ; the era of drinking, 
 duelling, and debts, celebrated in song and story. It 
 has been painted a hundred times in fiction. Sheil 
 describes it in veracious prose, and Sir Jonah Bar- 
 rington in a happy blending of romance and truth 
 which he calls " Personal Sketches of His Own 
 Times." The riotous young members of the aris- 
 tocracy who had their counterparts in London also, 
 
Introduction vii 
 
 terrorised the peaceable town folk by running amok 
 at irregular intervals, with the ferocity and the sense 
 of humour of a drunken Kaffir. They called them- 
 selves by various titles, " Bucks," " Bloods," " Mo- 
 hawks," " Sweaters," " Chalkers," and other names 
 which we should supersede in these days with the 
 comprehensive synonym, Blackguards. They were 
 hard drinkers, and those who escaped death by the 
 sword or pistol generally achieved it by breaking 
 their necks in the steeple-chase, or by falling more 
 ingloriously in the lists of Bacchus. Of few of them 
 could it be said they died too soon. One wishes that 
 more of them had been beloved of other gods than 
 him of the wine-cup. 
 
 Such a society had no attractions for a youth of 
 gentle instincts whose tastes ran towards painting, 
 poetry, music, and story-telling. Young Lover was 
 a delicate child physically, and his parents wisely sent 
 him, in his twelfth year, to spend a long vacation at 
 a farmhouse in the Wicklow Mountains. There, 
 in the health-giving free air, he made the acquaint- 
 ance of the best two friends that he could have 
 found, Nature, in all her moods, and Man in his 
 best estate, that of the simple, honest tiller of the 
 soil. He loved them both forever after, and well 
 was his love returned. 
 
 In spite of Juliet, there is something in a name, 
 when name and nature go together, as they did in 
 the case of Lover. Usually they do not. His name 
 meant what he was, and, because he was so, the 
 affection of all the world went out to him by prover- 
 bial prescription. He achieved a thing always dif- 
 
viii Introduction 
 
 ficult, generally impossible : he wrote of a people, 
 of their virtues and their foibles, their manners and 
 customs, their likes and their dislikes ; and he did it 
 without awakening their indignation or wounding 
 their susceptibilities. For succeeding in that most 
 delicate task he had to thank the name and nature 
 which were his. He saw his people with sympa- 
 thetic eyes, and they, being a warm-hearted people 
 none too familiar with loving treatment of any sort, 
 returned the affection and laughed good-humouredly 
 because he laughed with and not at them. He was 
 " one of themselves," moreover, and that means 
 much, as Dickens discovered when he ventured to 
 draw America as he saw it ; as Cable did when he 
 depicted Creole life, and Kipling when he offered 
 well-meant patronage to the fishermen of Gloucester. 
 The Englishman, less sensitive than the American, 
 the Irishman, or the Scot, is impervious to satire and, 
 after mature digestion and ultimate assimilation of it, 
 relishes a joke against himself almost as well as one 
 against his neighbours ; but the Irishman enjoys it all 
 the time. 
 
 Young Lover came back at the end of a year, 
 strengthened in mind and body, and spent the follow- 
 ing eighteen months in school, from which he was 
 taken into his father's office to learn the uncongenial 
 trade of a stockbroker. There he worked all day, 
 faithfully but without enthusiasm, and devoted his 
 evenings to the cultivation of the Muses. His was 
 already a catholic taste, modestly embracing painting, 
 music, poetry, x and even play-writing, on a very small 
 scale. 
 
Introduction ix 
 
 It is doubtful if anybody ever undertook the study of 
 art under more discouraging circumstances. Whether 
 or not it is judicious from a worldly point of view for 
 a business-like parent to encourage a child's artistic 
 aspirations is a question about which painters and 
 Philistines will disagree to the end of the chapter. 
 It is true I have heard an artist, more successful 
 artistically than financially, say that he would not 
 refuse a child of his permission to play with a box 
 of paints, on the ground that it might either become 
 a painter or it might poison itself, the latter being a 
 happy alternative to the former. This painter was 
 a philosopher. Also he had no children. Lover's 
 father, with the very best intentions, employed the 
 most vigorous arguments to dissuade his son from the 
 pursuit of painting and kindred arts. He ridiculed 
 the boy's literary efforts, broke up his miniature stage 
 properties with a poker, and even sent him to Lon- 
 don, the commercial Babylon, to woo Fortune in the 
 temple of trade. 
 
 It was all in vain. At the age of seventeen the 
 boy returned to Dublin without a profession or any 
 training in art except that which he had taught him- 
 self, and undertook to earn his own living with pencil 
 and brush. " How Hibernian ! " exclaims his biogra- 
 pher ; and so it was. But his countryman, Gold- 
 smith, had taken even a wilder risk when he went 
 penniless to Holland, to teach English, without 
 knowing a word of Dutch ! 
 
 Nevertheless Lover was to become first and to 
 remain best known to his countrymen by his literary 
 work. In his twenty-first year he wrote a song for a 
 
x Introduction 
 
 great banquet which was given to Thomas Moore. 
 All the literary celebrities were present and the young 
 bard sang his lay, which was called " The Poet's 
 Election," amid the applause of a very distinguished 
 audience. Moore was especially delighted and, after 
 the close of the banquet, sought out and complimented 
 the author. It was the beginning of a friendship 
 which lasted through life. 
 
 About the same time his first literary effusion, a 
 paper called " Ballads and Ballad Singers," appeared 
 in the Dublin Literary Gazette. It was followed by 
 "The King and the Bishop" and "The Story of the 
 Gridiron." The last named was copied all over the 
 English-speaking world and stamped the writer as a 
 humourist of a high order. 
 
 It was about this period also that he made his debut 
 as a miniature painter. As such he flourished in the 
 Irish capital for over fifteen years, at the same time 
 increasing his high popularity and keeping the wolf 
 far enough from the door to permit the admission 
 of more agreeable and profitable visitors. 
 
 Ireland, thanks to its poverty, is a poor patron of 
 the arts, but its children have always shown a remark- 
 able disposition to cultivate them. This is especially 
 true of the arts of sculpture and architecture, wherein 
 England and America owe so much to Irish genius. 
 Its poetry, too, since the days of the Bards, has been 
 great in quantity and not unworthy of comparison in 
 quality with that of the sister island, albeit the Irish 
 poet singing in English uses a foreign tongue. 
 
 It is interesting to know that the first subjects of 
 Lover's pencil and brush were marine studies, as were 
 
Introduction xi 
 
 also his last; but his great success was as .a painter of 
 portraits, especially miniatures. Among his sitters in 
 after years were the Marquis of Wellesley, Lord 
 Brougham, the Duke of Leicester, and the great 
 Paganini. His portrait of the last named was dis- 
 tinctly his best and won him high honour in the 
 English capital. 
 
 It was not publicly known until after his death that 
 he had achieved success anonymously as a caricaturist 
 in the pages of the Irish u Horn Book " published in 
 the year 1831. His connection with that satirical 
 publication was kept secret for political and personal 
 reasons. As Mr. D. J. O'Donoghue points out, 
 Lover's biographers fail to mention the fact that he 
 was deeply concerned in the efforts of the " Comet 
 Club," which brought out " The Parson's Horn 
 Book," to overthrow the infamous tithe system under 
 which the Catholics of Ireland were obliged to contri- 
 bute to the support of the Established Church. In 
 this righteous crusade he had as associates Thomas 
 Brown (" Jonathan Buckthorn "), Norreys Jephson, 
 John Sheehan, Robert Knox, John Cornelius O'Cal- 
 laghan, author of the "Green Book" and of the 
 " History of the Irish Brigades in the Service of 
 France," Joseph Sterling Coyne, one of the found- 
 ers of Punch, and many others. The Government at 
 last suppressed the publication and prosecuted and 
 punished the editors. The tithes were not abolished 
 until a generation afterwards. Lover's skill as an 
 etcher was shown in his " Horn Book " pictures and, 
 still better, in the numerous admirable drawings with 
 which he illustrated his own books and those of other 
 
xii Introduction 
 
 writers. T.he best of them are reproduced in the 
 present edition of his works. It was a severe blow 
 to the ambition which was his first love when his 
 failing eyesight compelled him to abandon both etching 
 and miniature painting in the very prime of life and 
 success. He had won distinction in other and wider 
 fields, in which also the rewards were larger, but he 
 loved that art best of all and felt its loss most sadly. 
 
 The year 1827 found him well established in life. 
 His first play not counting the dramatic work 
 which his stern father, in the capacity of a domestic 
 Lord High Chancellor, had suppressed with a poker 
 was brought out at the Theatre Royal. It was a 
 fairy spectacle called " Grania Uaile," and had a run 
 of several nights. Unfortunately, no trace of the 
 manuscript survives. 
 
 In this happy year he married Lucy Berrel, the 
 daughter of John Berrel, a Dublin architect, and his 
 wife Mary, nee Harney. In the following year he 
 was elected Secretary of the Royal Hibernian Acad- 
 emy of which he had long been a popular member. 
 
 His first volume, a collection of tales and legends 
 which had appeared in the Dublin magazines, was 
 published in 1832. His portrait of Paganini, exhib- 
 ited at the Royal Academy Exhibition, made the 
 painter better known than the poet or story-teller, in 
 the English capital. Thither he went accordingly in 
 the following year, not to repeat the disastrous failure 
 which he had made there so many years before in the 
 worthy field of commerce. 
 
 For a dozen happy, busy years he did the work 
 that he loved, and gained the rewards that he deserfrd, 
 
Introduction xiii 
 
 in the intellectual centre of Great Britain. He was 
 a prolific writer of exquisite little theatrical trifles, 
 many of which he did not take the trouble to preserve 
 even in manuscript. Thus, in 1835, he wrote for 
 Madam Vestris a Christmas drama called "The 
 Olympic Picnic," a classical burlesque, and for the 
 comedian Listen a little piece called " The Beau 
 Ideal," and in 1837, for the Hay market Theatre, his 
 farce of " The Happy Man " (a subject which Sir 
 Walter Scott has also treated in verse). In the same 
 year Madam Vestris presented his operetta of " The 
 Greek Boy " at Covent Garden, and the composer 
 Balfe brought out his humorous " II Paddy Whack in 
 Italia," at the Lyceum. Two other short pieces, 
 "The Hall Porter" and " Macarthy More," com- 
 pleted his work in that direction. Some years later 
 he wrote what his biographer calls " a musical piece " 
 for the Haymarket, entitled "The Sentinel of the 
 Alma." 
 
 Of his more enduring dramas " Rory O'More " 
 had a long run of one hundred and nine nights at the 
 Adelphi Theatre in 1837, with the brilliant actor, 
 Tyrone Power, as the hero, and was played through- 
 out the country and America. u The White Horse 
 of the Peppers " was another dramatic success. 
 
 He enjoyed in London the society and friendship 
 of the brilliant group of authors and artists who 
 flourished in the early Victorian age : Sydney Smith, 
 Dickens, Douglas Jerrold, Barham, Moore, Lever, 
 William Carleton, " Father Prout," Maginn, Lady 
 Morgan, and a multitude of greater or lesser lights, 
 some long since extinguished, others still dimly glim- 
 
xiv Introduction 
 
 mertng on the horizon, and a few translated among 
 the planetary gods, to shine forever which means for 
 one, possibly two, perhaps even three centuries of glory. 
 
 When his failing eyesight debarred him from con- 
 tinued work with pen, pencil, or etching-tool, he 
 began presenting his public entertainments, consisting 
 of songs and readings from his own works. He 
 made his debut at the Princess Theatre, London, in 
 March, 1844, and achieved an immediate success 
 which followed him during seven years, in the prin- 
 cipal cities and towns of Great Britain and Ireland and 
 the United States. He was not the pioneer in this 
 form of entertainment but was one of the most pop- 
 ular of his own or later times. 
 
 His sweet voice was not strong enough to bear the 
 strain of all the vocal numbers ; so he employed two 
 young ladies as assistants for that duty, devoting him- 
 self solely to the prose features. Modern audiences 
 are familiar with this form of entertainment, which 
 has become so common that authors of distinction add 
 a new wreath to their laurels, and win much gratitude 
 besides, by refraining from public readings from their 
 own works. In Lover's time and for many years 
 afterwards, the entertainment was kept within the 
 bounds of modesty, and people came at least as much 
 to hear as to see the author. The custom has since 
 been changed, and not for the better. He also fol- 
 lowed the example of his contemporaries by paying a 
 visit to the United States, but apparently without any 
 ulterior thought of writing a book, and certainly with 
 no intention of taking the elder Mr. Weller's advice 
 tnd " blowing up the Yankees " therein. 
 
Introduction xv 
 
 He landed in Boston in September, 1846, and 
 gave his first entertainment in New York on the 28th 
 of the same month. He found his audiences there 
 cordially appreciative. In Boston and Salem, which 
 he visited later, the appreciation was equally present 
 but concealed behind a blanket of frigidity which sur- 
 prised the cheery entertainer. Of the Salemites he 
 wrote : " Frogs, snowballs, icicles no name for 
 coldness can describe them." Other distinguished 
 visitors have been chilled by the same peculiar tem- 
 perature observed in the intellectual centres of New 
 England and have tried to understand the phenomenon, 
 some ascribing it to pride, some to provincialism, and 
 a few to bashfulness, though this last trait is not 
 characteristic of the inhabitants individually. Lover, 
 like the rest of the trans-Atlantic visitors, made many 
 warm friends in New England and wherever he went 
 in the country. 
 
 He travelled as far south as New Orleans, north to 
 the Canadian cities, and west to Lake Superior, 
 spending two years in giving entertainments or enjoy- 
 ing the novel life around him. 
 
 It was a sad blow to him to receive in a foreign 
 land the news of his wife's death, after a brief married 
 life of unalloyed happiness. Fresh grief awaited him 
 on his return home when his eldest daughter died of 
 consumption in her twenty-first year. His younger 
 daughter had married shortly before. Tenderly de- 
 voted to home and family he found himself practically 
 deprived of both. In January of 1852 he married 
 his second wife, Mary Jane Wandby, daughter of 
 William Wandby, of Coldham Hall, Cambridgeshire, 
 
xvi Introduction 
 
 England. Their married life was very happy, though 
 only two children lived to maturity. Two girls and 
 a boy died in early childhood. Another daughter, 
 Meta, died at the age of twenty-two. His only sur- 
 viving child, Fannie, married first a Dublin barrister, 
 Edward Herbert, and second a physician of Stuttgart, 
 Dr. Carl Schmid. The only living descendants of 
 Samuel Lover are this lady, her son, Victor Herbert, 
 the distinguished composer, and her son by the second 
 marriage, a German actor, whose stage name is Willie 
 Faber. 
 
 Lover brought home from America some material 
 for his entertainments and many art sketches, some 
 of which he reproduced in oil with more or less suc- 
 cess. His labours had entitled him to a season of rest 
 which the income from his works procured for him. 
 To this was added, in 1856, a government pension 
 of one hundred pounds. It was small, yet it may 
 not be sneered at in a republic which has totally for- 
 sworn its early virtue of giving some public reward to 
 literature, usually a foreign consulship which at least 
 kept the recipient and his poverty out of sight. 
 
 During the next few years Lover was engaged in 
 general literary work, compiling a volume of Irish 
 songs by different authors, and in writing for the 
 Burns Centennial Festival a little volume called 
 " Rival Rhymes," after the style of " Rejected Ad- 
 dresses." 
 
 In 1864 he was attacked with bleeding of the 
 lungs. It was the beginning of the end, though that 
 was not to come until after four years of lingering 
 illness, borne with fine fortitude. He removed in 
 
Introduction 
 
 XVI I 
 
 search of a milder climate to the Isle of Wight and 
 thence to St. Helier's in the Island of Jersey, his last 
 abode. There h died on July 6, 1868, aged seventy- 
 one years. On July I5th his body was buried at 
 Kensal Green. A tablet was erected to his memory 
 in St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin. 
 
 How bravely after the long siege he at last faced 
 the end like his own Irish Soldier, " with the fire of 
 his gallant nation," smiling to the last, yet deeply sen- 
 sible of all the responsibilities of his earthly career ! 
 His eyesight had long been weak, and four months 
 before his death his hearing partially failed him. As 
 he wrote to a friend : 
 
 " My hearing has suffered seriously ; just now I 
 am obliged to have the assistance of an ear trumpet. 
 Think of that, my beauty ! There 's a state for your 
 old Lover to be in ! No more tender whisperings ! 
 Imagine sweet confessions to be made through an ear 
 trumpet ! How many dear friends I have lost lately ! 
 Your own dear father among them. The shot is flying 
 thick and fast among the front companies ; it makes 
 one think of that fine couplet of Longfellow's : 
 
 " ' Hearts, like muffled drums, are beating 
 Funeral marches to the grave. ' 
 
 " Well, though I have written a few sad lines in the 
 end of this letter, you may see by the first part of it 
 that I am not down-hearted, and, ' though I am 
 amongst the ci-devant s that is, one of the front 
 company still I march cheerfully and cry, l Heads 
 up, soldiers ! ' ' 
 
 After the poet's death Mrs. Lover sent his last writ- 
 VOL. i. b 
 
xviii Introduction 
 
 ing to their friend Symington. It described a dream 
 which he had on the night of May 21, 1868, a few 
 weeks before his death : 
 
 " I thought I had entered the Valley of the Shadow. 
 It was a deep gorge and narrow, and high cliffs on 
 either hand rendered it also dark and shadowy, and 
 as the valley lay before me, further in advance, still 
 deeper and darker it grew, till, in the extreme dis- 
 tance, all form was lost, and nothing but intense 
 darkness prevailed. 
 
 " Just then, relieved upon that background of 
 gloom, suddenly I saw Jesus Christ, in wondrous 
 radiance, surrounded by sheep. 
 
 " I woke the moment my senses were impressed 
 with this lovely, glorious, faith-inspiring vision ; and 
 oh ! what a comfort it was to me thus to wake ! 
 My bodily suffering, even, was relieved, when my poor 
 soul was thus strengthened. 
 
 " It seemed to me as if my prayer, made that night, 
 had been heard and granted by my merciful and gra- 
 cious God, and that I need not fear the Valley of the 
 Shadow of Death, where Christ Himself was waiting 
 to care for the sheep." 
 
 On his death-bed he wrote a thoughtful criticism 
 on the anonymous versifiers of the Psalms and writers 
 of hymns who are guilty of u filling up their lame 
 lines with vapid verbiage, so twaddly, indeed, as to be, 
 to me, disgusting, from the manifest disrespect such 
 writers must have for the sacredness of the subject." 
 
 A very interesting revelation of character is the 
 letter to his two daughters, dated March 8, 1848, 
 enclosing a copy of a poem to them entitled " The 
 
Introduction xix 
 
 Voice from Afar." He presents it to them with a 
 modest introduction, and then discusses the failure of 
 another poem of his to impress them very deeply. 
 But he adds : " You know it is my opinion, and an 
 opinion on which I have acted, that I do not think it 
 wise for parents to drive their children in the beaten 
 track of their own thoughts (the parents' thoughts, I 
 mean) ; and you will remember how I have placed 
 Mendelssohn and Schubert, and the pretty vivacities 
 of France and Italy, before you, to the exclusion of 
 my own compositions, which I never forced upon you, 
 but, at the same time, whenever I do write a song 
 which the world acknowledges to be not worthless, a 
 daughter can scarcely place herself in a more graceful 
 position than in singing a song of her father's compos- 
 ing. Sir Walter Scott's son did himself little honour 
 when he boasted of never having read his father's 
 works : but do not suppose, my dear girls, that I 
 am vain enough (presumptuous, I should rather say) 
 to make any comparison between myself and the 
 great man to whom I have alluded, or so unhappy as 
 to believe that you are so cold and insensible to my 
 humbler merits." 
 
 No man was ever more generously appreciative of 
 his contemporaries than Lover. Symington, who set 
 him on a higher pedestal than Moore and wrote to 
 the former to tell him so, gives the reply, most credit- 
 able to the modesty and generosity of the writer : 
 " For the very favourable, not to say flattering opinion 
 you have given as to the comparative merits of Moore 
 and myself, I have reason to be pleased. ... I think 
 there is more of the c touch of nature ' that quality 
 
xx Introduction 
 
 to which Shakespeare attributes so much in my 
 writings than in his. I think also there is more feel- 
 ing, and beyond all doubt I am much more Irish : so 
 far I agree with you." After saying pleasantly that 
 Moore knew more about " the shady side of Pall 
 Mall " than of the morning breeze that stirs the 
 heather on the hills of Ireland or the nightly blast 
 that sweeps the Atlantic and often sings a death-song 
 over the fishermen, he continues : " Yet, with all 
 these drawbacks to the Irish Melodies^ what an exquisite 
 collection of lyrics exists in that work ! Moore was 
 keenly alive to the character of a melody hence, 
 from those of his own land, which are so lovely, he 
 selected judiciously the air suited to the spirit of his 
 lay. Then, as the verses he wrote were meant to be 
 sung (not merely read), with what consummate skill 
 he has accommodated every word to be capable of 
 the c linked sweetness long drawn out ! ' in this 
 respect I think Moore MATCHLESS." 
 
 HIS PLACE AMONG IRISH NOVELISTS 
 
 Bayle Bernard devotes two thoughtful chapters in 
 his Life of Lover to the numerous and excellent 
 writers who had preceded his subject in the poorly 
 paid and tardily appreciated field of Irish fiction. It 
 is a list of which no country need be ashamed, in- 
 cluding such names as Banim, Griffin, Miss Edge- 
 worth, Lady Morgan, Carleton, Lever, authors 
 widely differing in ability as they did in sentiment, 
 yet nearly all holding an honourable place in literature 
 after the lapse of sixty, seventy, or even a hundred 
 
Introduction xxi 
 
 years. It was the human quality that gave life to 
 their writings at a time when the vast majority of the 
 people were steeped in the direst poverty, when the 
 artificial night created by the penal laws still wrapped 
 the land in enforced illiteracy, and when it was 
 neither fashionable nor profitable to plead the cause 
 of the oppressed. In so far as those gifted Irish 
 men and women did plead for their less fortunate 
 countrymen, in so far did they compel a hearing from 
 a callous or hostile public. It was but natural that 
 the Catholic writers should champion their co- 
 religionists, and that they did it worthily and bril- 
 liantly, the enduring fame of Gerald Griffin and the 
 Banim brothers sufficiently attests. Lover, born and 
 living in the class and creed of ascendancy, generously 
 espoused the cause of the poor and misgoverned. 
 
 He was listened to, not because of the justice of 
 his plea, for far greater voices than his had cried in 
 vain for years on behalf of the down-trodden, but 
 because he invested his subjects with the charms of 
 humour, pathos, and sincerity. The world, which 
 turns a deaf ear to the cry of suffering, always stops 
 to be amused, sometimes becomes interested, and on 
 very rare occasions tries to right some fraction of a 
 wrong. I do not know that Irish tears or Irish 
 laughter ever obtained any valuable redress of Irish 
 grievances ; but they kept them before the world, and 
 thus were not without their value when stronger 
 arguments than smiles or tears could not be em- 
 ployed. Dives went to hell because he looked un- 
 moved upon the sores of Lazarus. . It is not good for 
 a man or a nation to stifle elementary feelings. 
 
xxii Introduction 
 
 Before the rise of the school of Irish novelists, 
 early in the nineteenth century, the Irishman of 
 English fiction and the stage was an uncouth libel on 
 humanity, a witless baboon who excited nothing but 
 ridicule or aversion. He was somewhat in that 
 respect like the " Nigger " of stage and fiction, and 
 therefore outside the pale of human sympathy. It 
 mattered not that the Irishman of real life was pres- 
 ent in the scantily covered flesh ; that he was known 
 of all mankind to be witty, brave, chivalrous, and 
 God-fearing. Until Lover and kindred writers de- 
 picted him as such, the English-speaking world under- 
 stood him not nor the debt which its literature owed 
 to his countrymen, Burke, Sheridan, Swift, Steele, 
 Goldsmith, and half the bright names in contem- 
 porary letters. 
 
 Lover cannot be counted among the great creators 
 in the art of fiction. He developed no deep plots, 
 made no subtle analyses of character, solved no 
 social " problems," and, indeed, pictured life mostly 
 as it was to be seen on the surface. His characters 
 and their accessories hint of the stage, elemental, 
 largely drawn, devoid, for the most part, of mingled 
 or conflicting passions. Yet they are fixed in the 
 reader's mind, and each has an individuality not to be 
 ignored or forgotten. It is a remarkable fact that 
 Dickens has not introduced a single Irish character 
 in all of his voluminous novels ; yet those traits 
 which in an Irishman would be pronounced u so very 
 Irish" are the dominant inspiration of Mr. Micaw- 
 ber, Dick Swiveller, and a score of other immortal 
 creations of " Boz." " Handy Andy " is Lover's 
 
Introduction xxiii 
 
 own, yet he has all the fantastic features of a genuine 
 child of Dickens, with a remote cousinship to Sancho 
 Panza. He might have been born anywhere., but 
 Ireland alone of his own time could have supplied the 
 mise en scene for his astounding performances. Lover 
 gives his authority for the original, but beyond ques- 
 tion he assisted nature in his development. Dr. R. 
 Shelton Mackenzie, who was a personal friend of 
 Lover, says that Handy Andy was the nickname of 
 a real personage whose -proper name was Andrew 
 Sullivan. Fourteen years before Lover introduced 
 Andy to the public, the Knight of Glin told Macken- 
 zie many stories about Andy, among others that nar- 
 rated in the novel, of the hero's being ordered to 
 throw a pitcher of water out of the window and obey- 
 ing literally by throwing out pitcher and all j and of 
 how he iced the champagne by emptying two dozen 
 bottles into the tub of ice. 
 
 HIS NOVELS 
 
 Handy Andy is unique in literature, as a hero with 
 a matchless genius for blundering and a happy faculty 
 for escaping the worst consequences of his own mis- 
 takes ; which an Englishman would have accounted 
 for by the proverb, " Fools for luck ! " But the Irish 
 language has no exact equivalent for the harsh mono- 
 syllable ; for " omadhaun " is a mild, soft word sig- 
 nifying an " innocent " or a " natural." Call him 
 by whatever name we may, Andy is a triumph of 
 misdirected originality, even as dirt has been defined 
 as matter out of place. Andy's premises are always 
 
xxiv Introduction 
 
 right, as when he resolves to punish the postmaster 
 for his apparent extortion in charging double postage 
 on a letter, by stealing two others, so as to give his 
 master " the worth of his money." With similar 
 good motives he slips an additional bullet into the 
 duelling pistols before they are loaded, in order, again, 
 that " the Masther " may have the advantage over 
 his opponent. He is the very incarnation of good 
 intentions, which, as we all know, have their Maca- 
 damical uses in another world. His more com- 
 monplace blunders, such as the exchanging and 
 mis-sending of parcels, display no especial inspiration. 
 They are within the capacity of any mere fool ; 
 Andy alone is the diabolus ex machina who could do 
 it at the exact time and place calculated to produce 
 the greatest possible amount of mischief. No, Andy 
 is not a fool. That role belongs to the denationa- 
 lised Dublin puppy, Furlong, whose faux pas are 
 unrelieved by the slightest touch of originality. 
 
 Among the other strong characters in " Handy 
 Andy," old Squire O'Grady and his rival, Egan, 
 stand out boldly as representatives of their class, 
 though diametrically opposite to each other in char- 
 acter. Murtough Murphy, Dick the Devil, and Tom 
 Durfy play well their several parts, being ably sup- 
 ported by a corps of supernumeraries who cheerfully 
 and impartially assist at race, duel, election, or scrim- 
 mage. The Walking Gentleman of the story, Ed- 
 ward O'Connor, is like his prototype on the stage, 
 or the corresponding character in " Rory O'More," 
 chiefly useful to fill the part of the sentimental lover 
 of his affinity, the sentimental young lady. Needless 
 
Introduction xxv 
 
 to say that they seldom utter anything of interest 
 except to themselves, therein being even as their 
 models in real life. All the world loves a lover, but 
 it is not madly covetous of his society while the fit is 
 on him. The droll or humorous remarks which our 
 author puts into the mouths of his characters are all so 
 naively delivered that one forgets that they are generally 
 coinage bright from the mint of imagination. For 
 example, there is the Widow Flanagan's exhortation 
 to the merry-makers : " Come, begin the dance ; 
 there 's the piper and the fiddler in the corner, as idle 
 as a milestone without a number ; " and there is the 
 stinging phrase so casually dropped apparently, when, 
 speaking of the tottering Dublin tenements, each 
 marked with an official slab telling its exact dis- 
 tance from the Castle, he says : " The new stone 
 tablets seemed to mock their misery, and looked like 
 a fresh stab into their poor old sides ; as if the 
 rapier of a king had killed a beggar" But the reader 
 will prefer to select his gems without impertinent 
 assistance. 
 
 Andy's mother, though slightly sketched, is drawn 
 from the life, as witness her two memorable visits 
 to the Amazonian Mattie Dwyer and the results 
 thereof; while the mother of The O'Grady is a 
 lunatic of such majestic perfection that we know she 
 must have sat in proper person for the vivid portrait. 
 Mere imagination never invents such flights as hers. 
 Father Phil Blake is one of Lover's many attempts to 
 draw an Irish priest. If he sometimes fails in fidelity 
 to life, it is not through lack of the kindliest intent; for 
 no Irish Protestant writer ever felt or expressed more 
 
xxvi Introduction 
 
 indignation towards the persecutions heaped upon 
 those faithful leaders of their flocks, standing alone, 
 as they did, between the forlorn serf and a master 
 whose cruelty was equalled only by his besotted folly. 
 But for the priest ministering, with a price on his 
 head, to his scattered people, rebellion or anarchy 
 would have deluged the land with blood. None knew 
 this better than Lover. It is not out of place to 
 recall the fact in any allusion to his life-work ; for 
 his life was indeed devoted to the championship of 
 his poor countrymen and especially of those who dif- 
 fered from him in creed and station. " Rulers of 
 Ireland ! " he exclaims, " why have you not sooner 
 learned to lead that people by love whom all your 
 severity has not been able to drive ? " 
 
 This feeling of intense patriotism finds most fre- 
 quent and vigorous expression in his kst novel, 
 " Treasure Trove," otherwise known as " L. S. D." 
 or " He Would Be A Gentleman," in which he deals 
 with some of the loyal Irish who followed the for- 
 tunes of Bonnie Prince Charlie, to their own misfor- 
 tune. The Irish, like the Scotch, paid dearly for 
 Aeir fealty to a line of princes who exemplified the 
 divine right of monarchs in their contempt for every 
 common right and an ingratitude that was royally 
 superhuman. Captain Lynch is a typical Jacobite 
 soldier, loyal, brave, ready to make every honourable 
 sacrifice, even to that of life, for a prince who was 
 equally ready to accept, and forget it. It was such 
 men who cried out after the disaster of the Boyne 
 Water : " Change kings, and we '11 fight the battle 
 over again ! " and such men who saved the day for 
 
Introduction xxvii 
 
 France at Fontenoy and made King George exclaim 
 in bitterness : u Curse on the laws that deprive me of 
 such soldiers ! " Lover, who had nothing to gain, 
 and much to lose, in a worldly sense, by taking the 
 part of his oppressed fellow-countrymen, hated tyranny 
 of every kind and could not be silent when the 
 wrongs of his native land were his theme. Not alone 
 the wickedness of persecution, but the incredible folly 
 of it, were clear to his honest vision ; and he shows 
 the other side of the picture convincingly, the 
 peace, loyalty, and contentment which followed so 
 surely on the least concession of justice under an 
 occasional just ruler like Chesterfield or Drummond. 
 When intolerable tyranny drove the nation into des- 
 perate revolt, he says, " England would not admit that 
 she had cause for discontent. The phrase of the 
 time was, that ' the discontent on the face of Ireland 
 was coloured by caprice and faction.' How capri- 
 cious! " The reader who wishes to form a just idea 
 of that capricious country will find some of the 
 impelling causes in " Treasure Trove." 
 
 For the rest, the story is full of life and adventure, 
 with well-drawn pictures of Marshal Saxe, Lord 
 Clare, Dillon, and other historical personages. Ned 
 Corkery, the hero of the tale, is a much more inter- 
 esting character than either De Lacy, of " Rory 
 O'More," or Edward O'Connor, of " Handy Andy." 
 His lady love, like theirs, is rather a lay figure. The 
 story abounds in sufficiently moving adventures by 
 flood and field ; in the words of Phil Kearney, 
 u There 's beautiful fighting along the whole line." 
 For which, and better, reasons, Lover's novels should 
 
xxviii Introduction 
 
 find a new popularity in the present revival of 
 " strenuous " fiction, whose heroes, to tell the truth,, 
 are a trifle too solemn in making either love or war, 
 and lack the sense of humour which tends to lighten 
 both of those rather over-rated diversions. 
 
 Lover's novels are all clean, wholesome works of 
 art, plain stories, with little or no attempt at analysis 
 of character or inculcation of any lesson other than 
 that to be deduced from a picture in black and white. 
 Their predominant quality is their humour, which is 
 seldom strained, always laughter-provoking, and never 
 cruel, except towards snobbishness, cant, and all man- 
 ner of false pretence. In that and in their keen love 
 of justice, they reflect the gentle manliness of their 
 author. 
 
 Lover is at his best and his worst in his very un- 
 equal short stories. In the former category stand the 
 inimitable " Barny O'Reirdon, the Navigator," " The 
 Gridiron," "The White Horse of the Peppers," 
 " Paddy the Piper " (of which he disclaims full credit 
 as the author), and several delicious sketches of Irish 
 coachmen, ballad-singers, waiters, and other original 
 characters. " Father Roach," whose story he tells 
 both in prose and verse, is an impossible character, as 
 the dramatic incident upon which the tale hinges, the 
 involuntary self-betrayal, outside of the confessional, 
 of a criminal who had already confessed his crime 
 under that inviolable seal could not have been used by 
 the priest who was his confidant in both cases. The 
 priest's supposed assertion that " the bishop of the 
 diocese forwarded a statement to a higher quarter, 
 which procured for me a dispensation as regarded the 
 
Introduction xxix 
 
 confessions of the criminal; and I was handed this 
 instrument, absolving me from further secrecy, a few 
 days before the trial " is contrary to all the laws 
 and traditions of the Catholic Church, and spoils an 
 otherwise good story. 
 
 However, the single tale of the " Gridiron, or 
 Paddy Mullowney's Travels in France," has humour 
 enough to redeem a whole volume of inferior stories. 
 It is his own entirely, in conception and execution. 
 The extremely simple motif is sustained throughout, 
 and Paddy insists upon it with such convincing sin- 
 cerity that the reader is compelled to agree with him 
 that the Frenchmen who failed to lend him a grid- 
 iron, on the strength of his three magic words, 
 " Parly voo Frongsay ? " were not only ignorant of 
 their own language but shamefully inhospitable as 
 well. He and his compatriot, Barny O'Reirdon, are 
 worthy of Rabelais. 
 
 HIS SONGS AND POEMS 
 
 Simplicity was the dominant characteristic of 
 Lover's verse. He chose no complex themes, and 
 nobody will ever achieve fame or fortune by found- 
 ing " Lover Clubs " for the interpretation of his 
 poems. In his preface to a volume of his poetical 
 works, reproduced in this edition, he demonstrates 
 briefly and clearly his theory of song-writing and 
 explains some apparent literary defects in his own 
 work by showing that poetical had occasionally to 
 give way to musical expression when the first object 
 was to make a song j and that, with him, was always 
 the first object. 
 
xxx Introduction 
 
 Among the songs, numbering nearly three hundred, 
 in that collection are lyrics of love, humour, and 
 pathos, together with a few political and " occa- 
 sional." The best belong to the first three classes. 
 Those of the others are fair of their kind, which 
 is not a very high kind, being, indeed, no better 
 than if they had been written to order by the 
 average Laureate. 
 
 Even the reader fairly familiar with Irish poetry 
 is surprised to find how many songs popular to this 
 day are from the prolific pen of Lover, such as " The 
 Low-Back'd Car," "Molly Bawn," "The Whis- 
 tling Thief," " "Barney O'Hea," "The Four- 
 Leaved Shamrock," and nearly a score of others. It 
 is not unreasonable to infer that their long life 
 proves their high merit. " Rory O'More," of 
 course, is known to all the world, and the beauti- 
 ful songs, "The Angel's Whisper" and "What 
 Will You Do, Love ? " bear an appeal to the 
 human affections that will find response in every 
 heart. 
 
 It is not every poet who can blend humour and 
 tenderness so exquisitely that neither shall suffer by 
 the union. The absolute delicacy of Lover's humor- 
 ous love poems is unparalleled in this or any other 
 language. Percy's " Reliques " reflect the coarseness 
 of their age. Burns smirched his pages with Rabe- 
 laisian grossness, and English bards, from Chaucer to 
 Byron, have done the same. Even Moore affected 
 the Anacreontic, happily with little success, in his 
 youthful flights. Irish writers of prose and verse 
 are almost always free from any uncleanness. Their 
 
Introduction xxxi 
 
 literature is as pure as that of America. Lover's 
 wooer, whether it be Rory O'More, or Barney, or 
 the Dying Solcfier, or Lanty Leary, is gay as only 
 an Irish lover can be the only one, it is said by 
 his rivals, who can meet a woman's wiles with a 
 wit as nimble as her own. Lover has drawn him 
 to the life, with his national heritage of good humour, 
 so much more precious than the belauded Hope in 
 Pandora's box, which must have lost a good deal of 
 its saving salt by association with gloomy company in 
 that ill-omened casket. 
 
 Lover's preface to the fifth edition of his poems 
 points out that " every song in this collection was 
 not only made for singing, but has been sung." He 
 himself, says Symington, had a voice which " was 
 slight, but powerful in its effect, from being very 
 sweetly modulated, clearly articulated, expressive, and 
 true." The same author tells of how Lover was 
 moved by his own music, and that the tears trickled 
 down his cheek on one occasion in his own house 
 as he sang the "Angel's Whisper" which recalls 
 a story showing how the ludicrous touches elbows 
 with the pathetic. Authors are accustomed to re- 
 ceiving compliments that are not always compli- 
 mentary ; so Lover must have keenly enjoyed the 
 admiration which Thalberg, the pianist, expressed 
 for him on their first meeting, as the author of " Ze 
 Angel's Whistle" 
 
 It can be truly said of Lover that he lisped in 
 numbers. When he was so small that he had to 
 stand upon tiptoe to reach the piano keys, he was 
 found trying to pick out the notes of a popular tune. 
 
xxxii Introduction 
 
 Bernard, who tells the story, notes the coincidence 
 that the tune which attracted the infant musician 
 
 t 
 
 was Moore's " Will you come to the Bower ? " 
 Lover made his first public appearance singing one 
 of his own songs at a dinner in honour of Moore, 
 and his first success as an artist was gained by his 
 portrait of Moore's son, Russell. 
 
 Lover, unlike most writers, knew what was his 
 own best work, as did his readers. He chose the 
 name of its hero with doubly fine discrimination : 
 first, as that of a national idol, him of the battle-cry, 
 " For God and Our Lady and Rory O'More," and 
 secondly, as a name especially musical. The long 
 O, beloved of singers, with the liquid consonants, 
 R and M, all compact of melody, made " Rory 
 O'More " a title to charm at once the eye and the 
 ear. That it fascinated its author is evident from 
 the fact that he gave it first to a song, then to a 
 story, and finally to a play. In the song it will be 
 noticed that he uses the surname indifferently to 
 rhyme with "sure " and " before," and it is used 
 with either pronunciation in the native vernacular. 
 Note, on the other hand, how well the name " Lanty 
 Leary " fits the light-hearted roguish " divil " who 
 lilts his love vows to the willing but doubting ear 
 of his inamorata. He will follow her, an' she wish 
 it, over the hills and far away, and back again to 
 house and land at her bidding, just as an Irishman 
 should ; and when she puts the final love-test to 
 him, if he will follow her to the grave ? he answers, 
 just as an Irishman of his fun-loving nature would : 
 " ' Fait, I won't,' says Lanty Leary." In the su- 
 
Introduction xxxiii 
 
 preme moment Lanty would probably outdo the most 
 melancholy of your romantic lovers ; but so long 
 as it . is only an imaginary case, he sees but the 
 fun of it, and so laughs and wins, where another 
 would sigh and lose. 
 
 Perhaps the happiest blending of those two Irish 
 characteristics is found in the sad, tender, humorous, 
 and wholly heart-stirring ballad of " The Soldier," 
 who 
 
 " Thought of kings and royal quarrels, 
 
 Ami thought of glory, without a smile ; 
 For what had he to do with laurels ? 
 
 He was only one of the rank-and-file ! " 
 
 He drinks to his loved one and consoles himself 
 with the reflection, humorously sincere and that 
 is very Irish that she "won't be a widow for 
 why? Ah ! you would never have me, vourneen." 
 
 He drinks again, to his beloved native land from 
 which he dies far away. Then, at last, " the pride 
 that guarded his manly eye" breaks down with the 
 vision of c< heaven and home and his true love 
 nigh,"- 
 
 " So draining his little cruiskeen, 
 He drank to his cruel colleen ; 
 To the Emerald land of his birth 
 Then lifeless he sank to the earth, 
 Brave a soldier as ever was seen! " 
 
 Ireland may have poets and story-tellers of higher 
 literary rank and more enduring fame, but she will 
 never have one more true and tender and loyal than 
 Samuel Lover. 
 
 VOL. L C 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 Introduction v 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 The Cottage of Rory O'More, with Scenery, Machinery, 
 
 Dresses and Decorations i 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Showing how a Journey may be performed on a Grid- 
 iron without going as far as St. Laurence .... 15 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 A Peep into Ireland Forty Years ago. Hints for charg- 
 ing Juries. Every Landlord his own Lawgiver. 
 Pride of Birth. A Jocular Prince on Foot, and a 
 Popular Peer on Horseback 34 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Journey continued. Desultory Coach Conversation, in 
 which the Liberty of "The Press" is discussed, 
 and the Thistle declared to be not Indigenous to 
 Ireland. Arguments and Coaches liable to break 
 down. Hints for keeping Hounds, etc., etc. . . 48 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 Whisky versus Small-pox. Ghibberish versus French. 
 A Secret with Two Handles to it, which our 
 Hero and his Sister lay hold of 66 
 
xxxvi Contents 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 PACK 
 In which a Gentleman writes a Letter as long as a 
 
 Lady's 73 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 A Man of Law and Physic 84 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 "Britannia rules the Waves" 99 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 The Pretty Girl milking her Cow 1 1 1 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 In which Rory hears and sees more than he bargained 
 for, and finds in the Conclusion the Truth of 
 the Proverb, that Providence never shuts one Door 
 without opening another 123 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 Showing that One Half of the World does not know 
 how the Other Half lives ; and also, that Soft 
 Words can bend Hard Iron, though they do not 
 butter Parsnips 146 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 "In the Dark all Cats are Grey." Rory becomes 
 possessed of an Important Secret, and discloses One 
 in Exchange 162 
 
Contents xxxvii 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 PAGE 
 In which Rory remembers the Old Saying of " Put .that 
 
 in your Pipe and smoke it " 175 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 In which it appears that One Man's Sin may prove An- 
 other Man's Salvation 182 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 Being a Mixture of Romance and Reality 189 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 An "Irish" Fair with only "One" Fight in it. De 
 Welskein's Metamorphoses. Learned Pigs. 
 
 Roasted Ducks. Love and Murder, etc., etc. . 197 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 A Moonlight Meeting $ with One too Many .... 225 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 Containing a Council of Love and a Council of War . 232 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 Showing that Mothers in the Country contrive to marry 
 
 their Daughters, the same as Mothers in Town . . 238 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 In which Rory O'More proves himself to be a Man of 
 
 Letters 243 
 
xxxviii Contents 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 PAG* 
 
 In which Shan Regan and Soldering Solomon give a 
 
 Touch of their Quality, and Rory undergoes a 
 Trial of Temper 253 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 A Trial of Temper, and a Trial By Battle . . . . 263 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 Containing De Lacy's Letter, contrasting the Con- 
 ditions of Ireland and England 275 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 Showing how a Gentleman might not dress himself as 
 
 he pleased Forty Years ago, in Ireland . . . . 282 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 Showing how a Pass may defend a Soldier, as well as 
 a Soldier defend a Pass ; and how a Man in Au- 
 thority may order Sabres for One, without admir- 
 ing Pistols for Two 289 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 A Subterranean Meeting. The Sudden Appearance 
 of an Unexpected Agent, threatening the Imprison- 
 ment and Death of De Welskein and his Party . . 299 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 De Lacy departs for France. Rory gives a Hint for 
 making Good Punch ; and Scrubbs proves the 
 Fallacy of the Saying, that a Man finds his Warm- 
 est Welcome at an Inn 316 
 
Contents xxxix 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 PAG* 
 
 Giving an Example of Magisterial Severity and Mater- 
 nal Tenderness 338 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 Showing how like a Gentleman a Tinker is when he 
 
 thinks he is dying . . 348 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 Which will explain itself 360 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 In which Rory makes his First Trip to Sea a Voyage of 
 
 Discovery 372 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 Containing many Sapient Observations on Frenchmen 
 
 and Frigates, English Subjects, Foreigners, etc. . . 385 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 Cupid in Paris 394 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 
 Showing how New Enemies arise out of Old Loves . . 401 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 Showing how Useful Old Love-Letters are in Cold 
 
 Weather 406 
 
xl Contents 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 PACK 
 The Disappointed Enthusiast cools down, and Rory falls 
 
 into a Strange Religious Error ^ x 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 A Mysterious Meeting 422 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 Containing Solomon's Examination and its Results . . 430 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 The Attack 5 showing how different is the Conduct of 
 
 Soldiers and Yeomanry, in the Battle and after it 435 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 In which Rory seeks his Home but finds it not . . . 455 
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 
 Joy visits the House of Mourning, but does not seem 
 
 to like her Quarters 461 
 
 CHAPTER XLII 
 Containing an Explanatory Letter 467 
 
 . CHAPTER XLIII 
 Rory indulges in Gloomy Anticipations 472 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV 
 The Glorious Privilege of Trial by Jury 475 
 
Contents xli- 
 
 CHAPTER XLV 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Showing how the Verdict for the Hanging of One pro- 
 duces the Banishment of Many 500 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI 
 
 In which Rory follows De Lacy's Advice and his 
 
 own Inclinations 509 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII 
 
 De Lacy muses like a Gentleman but feels like a Man ; 
 and the Reader is told all the Author can tell him, 
 and is left to guess the Rest 522 
 
RORY O'MORE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE COTTAGE OF RORY O*MORE, WITH SCENERY, 
 MACHINERY, DRESSES AND DECORATIONS 
 
 IN a retired district of the South of Ireland, near 
 some wild hills and a romantic river, a small by- 
 road led to a quiet spot, where, at the end of a little 
 lane, or boreen, which was sheltered by some hazel- 
 hedges, stood a cottage which in England would have 
 been considered a poor habitation, but in Ireland was 
 absolutely comfortable, when contrasted with the 
 wretched hovels that most of her peasantry are 
 doomed to dwell in. The walls were only built of 
 mud but then the door-way and such windows as 
 the cabin had were formed of cut stone, as was the 
 chimney, which last convenience is of rare occurrence 
 in Irish cabins, a hole in the roof generally serving 
 instead. The windows were not glazed, it is true, 
 but we must not expect too much gentility on this 
 point ; and though the light may not be let in as 
 much as it is the intention of such openings to do, yet 
 if the wind be kept out, the Irish peasant may be 
 thankful. A piece of board or, as Pat says, a 
 wooden pane of glass may occupy one square, 
 while its neighbour may be brown paper, ornamented 
 inside, perhaps, with a ballad setting forth how 
 VOL. i. i 
 
2 Rory 0' More 
 
 " A sailor coorted a farmer's daughther 
 That lived convaynient to the Isle of Man,** 
 
 or, may be, with a print of Saint Patrick banishing 
 the sarpents or the Virgin Mary in flaring colours, 
 that one might take for 
 
 " The king's daughther a come to town, 
 With a red petticoat and a green gownd." 
 
 But though the windows were not glazed, and 
 there was not a boarded floor in the house, yet it was 
 a snug cottage. Its earthen floors were clean and 
 dry, its thatched roof was sound : the dresser in the 
 principal room was well furnished with delf; there 
 were two or three chairs and a good many three- 
 legged stools a spinning-wheel, that sure sign of 
 peace and good conduct more than one iron pot 
 more than one bed, and one of those four-posted, with 
 printed calico curtains of a most resplendent pattern : 
 there was a looking-glass, too, in the best bed-room, 
 with only one corner broken off, and only three 
 cracks in the middle ; and that further damage might 
 not be done to this most valuable piece of furniture 
 most valuable I say, for there was a pretty girl in 
 the house who wanted it every Sunday morning to see 
 that her bonnet was put on becomingly before she 
 went to chapel; that no further damage might be 
 done, I say, this inimitable looking-glass was imbedded 
 in the wall, with a frame-work of mortar round it, 
 tastefully ornamented with cross-bars, done by the 
 adventurous hand of Rory O'More himself, who had 
 a genius for handling a trowel. This came to him by 
 inheritance, for his father had been a mason ; which 
 accounts for the cut-stone door-way, windows, and 
 chimney of the cottage, that Rory's father had built 
 for himself. But when I say Rory had a genius for 
 handling a trowel, I do not mean to say he followed 
 
Rory 0' More 
 
 the trade of his father he did not, it was a gift 
 of nature which Rory left quite unencumbered by any 
 trammels of art ; for as for line and rule, these were 
 beneath Rory's consideration ; this the setting of the 
 glass proved for there was no attempt at either the 
 perpendicular, the horizontal, or the plane ; and from 
 the last being wanting, the various portions of the 
 glass presented different angles, so that it reflected a 
 very distorted image of every object, and your face, 
 if you would believe the glass, was as crooked as a 
 ram's horn which I take to be the best of all com- 
 parisons for crookedness. Mary O'More, however, 
 though as innocent a girl as any in the country, did 
 not believe that her face was very crooked : it was 
 poor Rory who principally suffered, for he was con- 
 tinually giving himself most uncharitable gashes in 
 shaving, which Rory attributed to the razor, when in 
 fact it was the glass was in fault ; for when he fan- 
 cied he was going to smooth his upper lip, the 
 chances were that he was making an assault on his 
 nose, or cutting a slice off his chin. 
 
 But this glass has taken up a great deal too much 
 time which, after all, is not uncommon: when 
 people get before a glass, they are very likely to lin- 
 ger there longer than they ought. 
 
 But I need not go on describing any more about 
 the cottage, nobody wants an inventory of its fur- 
 niture, and I am neither an auctioneer nor a bailiff's 
 keeper. I have said Rory's father was a mason. 
 Now his mother was a widow argal (as the grave- 
 digger hath it), his father was dead. Poor O'More, 
 after laying stones all his life, at last had a stone laid 
 over him ; and Rory, with filial piety, carved a cruci- 
 fix upon it, surmounted by the letters I. H. S. and 
 underneath this inscription : 
 
 " Pray for the sowl of Rory O'More ; Requiescat 
 in pace." 
 
4 
 
 Rory O'More 
 
 This inscription was Rory's first effort in sepulchral 
 sculpture, and, from his inexperience in the art, it 
 presented a ludicrous appearance : for, from the im- 
 portance Rory attached to his father's soul or, as 
 he had it, sow! he wished to make the word parti- 
 cularly conspicuous ; but, in doing this, he cut the 
 letters so large that he did not leave himself room to 
 finish the word, and it became, divided the word 
 requiescat became also divided : the inscription, there- 
 fore, stood as follows : 
 
 You were thus called on to pray for the Sow in one 
 corner while the CAT was conspicuous in the other. 
 
 Such was Rory's first attempt in this way, and 
 though the work has often made others smile, poor 
 Rory's tears had moistened every letter of it, and 
 this humble tombstone was garlanded with as much 
 affection as the more costly ones of modern Pere La- 
 Chaise : and though there were none who could read 
 who did not laugh at the absurdity, yet they regarded 
 
Rory 0' More 
 
 Rory's feelings too much to let him be a witness of 
 such mirth. Indeed Rory would have resented with 
 indignation the attempt to make the grave of his 
 father the subject of laughter; for in no country is 
 the hallowed reverence for father and mother more 
 observed than in Ireland. 
 
 Besides, Rory was not a little proud of his name. 
 He was taught to believe there was good blood in his 
 veins, and that he was descended from the O'Mores 
 of Leinster. Then, an old schoolmaster in the dis- 
 trict, whose pupil Rory had been, was constantly re- 
 counting to him, the glorious deeds of his progenitors 
 
 or, as he called them, his " owld anshint anshisthers 
 in the owld anshint times," and how he should never 
 disgrace himself by doing a dirty turn. " Not that I 
 ever seen the laste sign iv it in you, ma bouckal, 
 but there's no knowin'. And sure the divil 's busy 
 wid us sometimes, and dales in timtayshins, and lays 
 snares for us, all as one as you 'd snare a hare or 
 ketch sparrows in a thrap ; and who can tell the 
 minit that he might be layin' salt on your tail on- 
 knownst to you, if you wornt smart ? and therefore 
 be always mindful of your anshisthers, that wor of 
 the highest blood in Ireland, and in one of the high- 
 est places in it too, Dunamaise I mane the rock of 
 Dunamaise, and no less. And there is where Rory 
 O'More, king of Leinsther, lived in glory time out 
 o' mind ; and the Lords of the Pale darn't touch him 
 
 and pale enough he made them often, I go bail ; 
 
 and there he was, like an aigle on his rock, and 
 the dirty English afeard o' their lives to go within 
 mrles iv him, and he shut up in his castle as stout as 
 a ram." 
 
 In such rhodomontade used Phelim O'Flanagan to 
 flourish away, and delight the ears of Rory and Mary, 
 and the widow's no less. Phelim was a great char- 
 
Rory O'More 
 
 acter : he wore a scratch wig that had been built 
 somewhere about the year One, and from its appear- 
 ance might justify the notion that Phelim's wig-box 
 was a dripping-pan. He had a pair of spectacles, 
 which held their place upon his nose by taking a 
 strong grip of it, producing thereby a snuffling pro- 
 nunciation, increased by his taking of snuff: indeed, 
 so closely was his proboscis embraced by this primi- 
 tive pair of spectacles, that he could not have his 
 pinch of snuff without taking them off, as they com- 
 pletely blockaded the passage. They were always 
 stuck low down on his nose, so that he could see 
 over them when he wished it, and this he did for all 
 distant objects ; while for reading he was obliged to 
 throw his head back to bring his eyes to bear through 
 the glasses; and this, forcing the rear of his wig 
 downwards on the collar of his coat, shoved it for- 
 ward on his forehead, and stripped the back of his 
 pate : in the former case, his eyes were as round as 
 an owl's ; and in the other, closed nearly into the ex- 
 pression of disdain, or at least of great consequence. 
 His coat was of grey frieze, and his nether garment 
 of buckskin, equalling the polish of his wig, and sur- 
 passing that of his shoes, which indeed were not 
 polished, except on Sunday, or such occasions as the 
 priest of the parish was expected to pay his school a 
 visit, and then the polish was produced by the 
 brogues being greased^ so that the resemblance to the 
 wig was more perfect. Stockings he had, after a 
 sort ; that is to say, he had woollen cases for his legs, 
 but there were not any feet to them ; they were 
 stuffed into the shoe to make believe, and the deceit 
 was tolerably well executed in front, where Phelim had 
 them under his eye; but, like Achilles, he was vul- 
 nerable in the heel indeed, worse off than that 
 renowned hero, for he had only one heel unprotected, 
 
Rory O'More 7 
 
 while poor Phelim had both. On Monday, Tuesday, 
 and Wednesday, Phelim had a shirt you saw he 
 had ; but towards the latter end of the week, from 
 the closely-buttoned coat, and the ambuscade of a 
 spotted handkerchief round his neck, there was 
 ground for suspicion that the shirt was under the 
 process of washing, that it might be ready for service 
 on Sunday ; when, at mass, Phelim's shirt was always 
 at its freshest. 
 
 There was a paramount reason, to be sure, why 
 Phelim sported a clean shirt in chapel on Sunday : he 
 officiated as clerk during the service, or, as it would 
 be said amongst the peasantry, he u sarved mass j " and 
 in such a post of honour, personal decency is indis- 
 pensable. In this service he was assisted by a couple 
 of boys, who were the head of his school, and en- 
 joyed great immunities in consequence, [n the first 
 place, they were supposed, from virtue or the dignity 
 to which they were advanced, to understand more 
 Latin than any of the rest of the boys; and from the 
 necessity of their being decently clad, they were of 
 course the sons of the most comfortable farmers in 
 the district, who could afford the luxury of shoes and 
 stockings to their children, to enable them to act as 
 acolytes. The boys themselves seemed to like the 
 thing well enough, as their frequent passing and re- 
 passing behind the priest at the altar, with various 
 genuflexions, gave them a position of importance 
 before the neighbours that was gratifying ; and they 
 seemed to be equally pleased up to one point, and to 
 proceed in perfect harmony until the ringing of a 
 little bell, and that was the signal for a fight between 
 them: when I say fight, I do not mean that they 
 boxed each other before (or rather behind) the priest, 
 but to all intents and purposes there was a struggle 
 who should get the bell, as that seemed the grand 
 
8 Rory O'More 
 
 triumph of the day ; and the little bell certainly had a 
 busy time of it, for the boy that had it seemed endued 
 with a prodigious accession of devotion ; and as he bent 
 himself to the very earth, he rattled the bell till it 
 seemed choking with its superabundant vibration j 
 while the Christianity of his brother acolyte seemed to 
 suffer in proportion to the piety of his rival, for he 
 did not bow half so low, and was looking with a 
 sidelong eye and sulky mouth at his victorious 
 coadjutor. 
 
 As for Phelim, his post of honour was robing and 
 unrobing the priest before the altar; for in the 
 humble little chapel where all this was wont to occur 
 there was no vestry the priest was habited in his 
 vestments in the presence of his congregation. But 
 Phelim's grand triumph seemed to be, his assisting 
 his clergy in sprinkling the flock with holy water. 
 This was done by means of a large sprinkling-brush, 
 which the priest dipped from time to time in a vessel 
 of holy water which Phelim held, and waving it to 
 the right and left, cast it over the multitude. For 
 this purpose, at a certain period, the little gate of a 
 small area railed round the altar was opened, and 
 forth stepped the priest, followed by Phelim bearing 
 the holy water. Now it happened that the vessel 
 which held it was no other than a bucket. I do not 
 mean this irreverently, for holy water would be as 
 holy in a bucket as in a golden urn ; but, God for- 
 give me ! I could not help thinking it rather queer to 
 see Phelim bearing this great bucket of water, with a 
 countenance indicative of the utmost pride and impor- 
 tance, following the priest, who advanced through the 
 crowd, that opened and bowed before him as his 
 reverence ever and anon turned round, popped his 
 sprinkling-brush into the water, and slashed it about 
 right and left over his flock, that courted the shower, 
 
Rory O'More 9 
 
 and were the happier the more they were wet. Poor 
 people ! if it made them happy, where was the harm 
 of it ? A man is not considered unworthy of the 
 blessings of the constitution of Great Britain by get- 
 ting wet to the skin in the pelting rain of the equinox; 
 and I cannot, nor ever could, see, why a few drops 
 of holy water should exclude him. But hang philo- 
 sophy ! what has it to do with a novel ? 
 
 Phelim, like a great many other hedge-schoolmas- 
 ters, held his rank in the Church of Rome from his 
 being able to mumble some scraps of Latin, which 
 being the only language his Sable Majesty does not 
 understand, is therefore the one selected for the cele- 
 bration of the mass. How a prince of his importance 
 could be so deficient in his education, may well 
 create surprise, particularly as he is so constant an 
 inmate of our universities. 
 
 Phelim's Latin, to be sure, could scarcely " shame 
 the d 1," though certainly it might have puzzled 
 him. It was a barbarous jargon, and but for knowing 
 the phrases he meant to say, no one could compre- 
 hend him. Spiritu tuo, was from his mouth, " Sper- 
 chew chew o," and so on. Nevertheless, it was not 
 in chapel alone that Phelim sported his Latin nor 
 in his school either, where, for an additional twopence 
 a-week, he inducted his scholars into the mysteries of 
 the classics (and mysteries might they well be called), 
 but even in his social intercourse, he was fond of 
 playing the pedant and astonishing the vulgar ; and 
 as poaching piscators throw medicated crumbs into 
 the waters where they fish, so Phelim flung about his 
 morsels of Latin to catch his gudgeons. Derivations 
 were his fort ; and after elucidating something in that 
 line, he always said, " Derry wather," and took snuff 
 with an air of sublimity. Or, if he overcame an 
 antagonist in an argument, which was seldom the 
 
io Rory 0' More 
 
 case, because few dared to engage with him, but, 
 when any individual was rash enough to encountet 
 Phelim, he always slaughtered him with big words, and 
 instead of addressing his opponent, he would turn to 
 the company present and say, " I^ow, I '11 make yiz 
 all sinsible to a demonstheration ; " and then, after he 
 had held them suspended in wonder for a few minutes 
 at the jumble of hard words which neither he nor they 
 understood,, he would look round the circle with a 
 patronising air, saying, "You persaive Q. E. D. 
 what was to be demonstherated ! " 
 
 This always finished the argument in the letter, 
 but not in the spirit ; for Phelim, though he secured 
 silence, did not produce persuasion : his adversary 
 often kept his own opinion, but kept it a secret too, 
 as long as Phelim was present ; " for how," as they 
 themselves said when his back was turned, " could it 
 be expected for them to argufy with him when he 
 took to discoorsin them out o' their common sense ? 
 
 and the hoighth o' fine language it sartainly was 
 
 but sure it wouldn't stand to raison." How many a 
 speech in higher places is worthy of the same 
 commentary ! 
 
 Perhaps I have lingered too long in detailing these 
 peculiarities of Phelim ; but he was such an original, 
 that a sketch of him was too great a temptation to be 
 resisted ; besides, as he is about to appear immedi- 
 ately, I wished the reader to have some idea of the 
 sort of person he was. 
 
 The evening was closing as Phelim O'Flanagan 
 strolled up the boreen leading to the widow O'More's 
 cottage. On reaching the house he saw the widow 
 sitting at the door knitting. 
 
 " God save you, Mrs. O'More ! " said Phelim. 
 
 u God save you kindly ! " answered the widow. 
 
 "Faith, then, it's yourself is the industherouj 
 
Rory 0' More n 
 
 woman, Mrs. O'More, for it is working you are airly 
 and late : and to think of your being at the needles 
 now, and the evenin' closin' in ! " 
 
 " Oh, I don't call this work," said the widow : " it 
 is only jist to have something to do, and not be lost 
 with idleness, that I 'm keepin' my hands goin'." 
 
 " And your eyes too, 'faith and God spare them 
 to you." 
 
 " Amin, dear," said the widow. 
 
 " And where is the colleen, that she is n't helpin'you?" 
 
 " Oh, she 's jist gone beyant the meadow there, to 
 cut nettles for the chickens she '11 be in in a minit. 
 Won't you sit down, Mr. O'Flanagan? you 'd bet- 
 ther dhraw a sate." 
 
 " I 'm taller standin', Mrs. O'More, thank you 
 all the same, ma'am. And where would Rory be ? " 
 
 " Why, indeed, the Scholar wint out shootin', and 
 Rory wint wid him. It 's fond of the sport he is, 
 Mr. O'Flanagan, as you know." 
 
 " Thrue for you, ma'am ; it 's hard if I would n't, 
 when I sot over him for five years and betther ; and 
 hard it was to keep him undher ! for he was always 
 fond o' sport." 
 
 u But not the taste o' vice in him, Phelim dear," 
 said the mother. 
 
 u No, no, Mrs. O'More, by no manes nothing 
 but heart and fun in him ; but not the sign o' mis- 
 chief. And why would n't he like to go a start with 
 the young gintleman a-shootin' ? the dog and the 
 gun is tempting to man ever since the days o' Vargil 
 himself, who says with great beauty and discrimina- 
 tion, Anna virumque cano : which manes, c Arms, men, 
 and- dogs,' which is three things that always goes 
 \ogither since the world began." 
 
 " Think o' that now ! " said the widow : " and sc 
 Vargo used to go shootin' ! " 
 
12 Rory O'More 
 
 " Not exactly, Mrs. O'More, my dear : besides the 
 man's name was not Vargo, but Vargil. Vargo, 
 Mrs. O'More, manes the Vargin." 
 
 " God forgi' me ! " said the widow ; u is it the 
 blessed Vargin I said wint shootin' ? " and she 
 crossed herself. 
 
 "No, Mrs. O'More, my dear by no manes. 
 Vargo manes only vargin ; which is not blessed, 
 without you join it with something else. But Vargil 
 was the man's name ; he was a great Roman pote." 
 
 " Oh, the darlin' ! " said the widow; " and was he 
 a Roman ? " 
 
 "Not as you mane it, Mrs. O'More, my dear; he 
 was not a good Catholic and more 's the pity, and 
 a sore loss to him ! But he did n't know betther, for 
 they were lost in darkness in them days, and had not 
 the knowledge of uz. But whin I say he was a 
 Roman, I mane he was of that famous nation (and 
 tarin' fellows they wor!) Romanl popuii, as we 
 say, his nativity being cast in Mantua, which is a 
 famous port of that counthry, you persaive, Mrs. 
 O'More." 
 
 Here Mrs. O'More dropped her ball of worsted : 
 and Phelim, not wishing a word of his harangue to be 
 lost, waited till the widow was reseated and in a state 
 of attention again. 
 
 " Mantua, 1 say, Mrs. O'More, a famous port of 
 the Romani populi the port of Mantua which 
 retains to this day the honour of Vargil's nativity 
 bein' cast in that same place, you persaive, Mrs. 
 O'More." 
 
 " Yis, yis, Mr. O'Flanagan, I 'm mindin' you, sir. 
 Oh, what a power o' larnin' you have ! Well, 
 well, but it 's wondherful ! and sure I never heerd 
 afore of any one bein' born in a portmantia." 
 
 " Oh ! ho, ho, ho ! Mrs. O'More ! No, my dear 
 
Rory O'More 13 
 
 ma'am," said Phelim, laughing, "I didn't say* he 
 was born in a portmantia : I said the port of Mantua, 
 which was a territorial possession, or domain, as I 
 may say, of the Romani populi, where Vargil had his 
 nativity cast, that is to say, was born." 
 
 " Dear, dear ! what knowledge you have, Mr. 
 O'Flanagan ! and no wondher you 'd laugh at me ! 
 But sure, no wondher at the same time, when I 
 thought you wor talkin' of a portmantia, that I would 
 wondher at a child bein' sent into the world in that 
 manner." 
 
 "Quite nath'ral, Mrs. O'More, my dear quite 
 nath'ral," said Phelim. 
 
 " But can you tell me " 
 
 " To be sure I can," said Phelim : " what is it ? " 
 
 u I mane, would you tell me, Mr. O'Flanagan, is 
 that the place portmantias comes from ? " 
 
 " Why, indeed, Mrs. O'More, it is likely, from the 
 derrywation, that it is : but, you see, these is small 
 thrifles o' history that is not worth the while o' great 
 min to notice ; and by raison of that same we are left 
 to our own conjunctures in sitch matthers." 
 
 " Dear, dear ! Well but, sir, did that gintle- 
 man you wor talkin' about go a shootin' that Mr. 
 Varjuice ? " 
 
 "Vargil, Mrs. O'More Var-gil," said Phelim, 
 with authority. 
 
 " I beg his pard'n and yours, sir." 
 
 " No offince, Mrs. O'More. Why, ma'am, as for 
 goin shootin', he did not and for various raisons : 
 guns was scarce in thim times, and gunpowdher was 
 not in vogue, but was, by all accounts, atthributed 
 to Friar Bacon posteriorly." 
 
 " Oh, the dirty divils ! " said the widow, " to fry 
 their bacon with gunpowdher that bates all I ever 
 heerd." 
 
i 4 Rory O'More 
 
 Phelim could not help laughing outright at the 
 widow's mistake, and was about to explain, but she 
 was a little annoyed at being laughed at, and Rory 
 O'iMore and the Scholar, as he was called, having re- 
 turned at the moment, she took the opportunity of 
 retiring into the house, and left Phelim and his expla- 
 nation and the sportsmen altogether. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 SHOWING HOW A JOURNEY MAY BE PERFORMED ON 
 A GRIDIRON WITHOUT GOING AS FAR AS ST. 
 LAURENCE 
 
 THE arrival of Rory O'More and the Scholar 
 having put an end to the colloquy of the widow 
 and Phelim O'Flanagan, the reader may as well be 
 informed, during the pause, who the person is already 
 designated under the title of " the Scholar." 
 
 It was some weeks before the opening of our story 
 that Rory O'More had gone to Dublin, for the 
 transaction of some business connected with the 
 lease of the little farm of the widow if the few 
 acres she held might be dignified with that name. 
 There was only some very subordinate person on the 
 spot to whom any communication on the subject 
 could be made, for the agent, following the example 
 of the lord of the soil, was an absentee from the 
 property as well as his employer ; the landlord resid- 
 ing principally in London, though deriving most of 
 his income from Ireland, and the agent living in 
 Dublin, making half-yearly visits to the tenantry, 
 who never saw his face until he came to ask them 
 for .their rents. As it happened that it was in the 
 six months' interregnum that the widow wished to 
 arrange about her lease, she sent her son to Dublin 
 for the purpose " For what 's the use," said she, 
 " of talking to that fellow that 's down here, who can 
 
16 Rory O'More 
 
 never give you a straight answer, but goes on with his 
 gosther, and says he '11 write about it, and will have 
 word for you next time ; and so keeps you goin' 
 hither and thither, and all the time the thing is just 
 where it was before, and never comes to any thing ? 
 So Rory, dear, in God's name go off yourself and 
 see the agint in Dublin, and get the rights o' the 
 thing out o' his own mouth." So Rory set out for 
 Dublin, not without plenty of cautions from his 
 mother to take care of himself in the town, for she 
 heard it was " the dickens' own place ; and I 'm towld 
 they 're sich rogues there, that if you sleep with your 
 mouth open, they '11 stale the teeth out o' your 
 head." 
 
 " Faix, and maybe they 'd find me like a weasel 
 asleep ; " answered Rory " asleep with my eyes 
 open : and if they have such a fancy for my teeth, 
 maybe, it 's in the shape of a bite they 'd get them." 
 For Rory had no small notion of his own sagacity. 
 
 The wonders of Dublin gave Rory, on his return, 
 wide field for descanting upon, and made his hearers 
 wonder in turn. But this is not the time nor place 
 to touch on such matters. Suffice it here to say, Rory 
 transacted his business in Dublin satisfactorily ; and 
 having done so, he mounted his outside place on one 
 of the coaches from town, and found himself beside a 
 slight, pale, but rather handsome young gentleman, 
 perfectly free from any thing of that repulsive bearing 
 which sometimes too forcibly marks the distinction 
 between the ranks of parties that may chance to meet 
 in such promiscuous society as that which a public 
 conveyance huddles together. He was perfectly 
 accommodating to his fellow-travellers while they 
 were shaking themselves down into their places, and 
 on the journey he conversed freely with Rory on 
 such subjects as the passing occurrences of the road 
 
Rory 0' More 17 
 
 Suggested. This unaffected conduct won him ready 
 esteem and liking from his humble neighbour, as in 
 such cases it never fails to do : but its effect was 
 heightened by the contrast which another passenger 
 afforded, who seemed to consider it a great degrada- 
 tion to have a person in Rory's condition placed 
 beside him ; and he spoke in an offensive tone of 
 remark to the person seated at the other side, and 
 quite loud enough to be heard, of the assurance of 
 the lower orders, and how hard it was to make low 
 fellows understand how to keep their distance. To 
 all this, Rory, with a great deal of tact, never made 
 any reply, and to a casual observer would have 
 seemed not to notice it ; but to the searching eye of 
 his pale companion, there was the quick and momen- 
 tary quiver of indignation on the peasant's lip, and the 
 compression of brow that denotes pain and anger, the 
 more acute from their being concealed. But an 
 occasion soon offered for this insolent and ill-bred 
 fellow to make an open aggression upon Rory, which 
 our hero returned with interest. After one of the 
 stoppages on the road for refreshment, the passengers 
 resumed their places, and the last to make his re- 
 appearance was this bashaw. On getting up to his 
 seat, he said, " Where 's my coat ? " 
 
 To this no one made any answer, and the question 
 was soon repeated in a louder tone : " Where 's my 
 coat ? " 
 
 u Your coat, is it, sir ? " said the coachman. 
 
 " Yes my coat ; do you know any thing of it ? " 
 
 " No, sir," said the coachman : " maybe you took 
 it into the house with you." 
 
 "'No, I did not : I left it on the coach. And by 
 the bye," said he, looking at Rory, "you were the 
 only person who did not quit the coach did you. 
 take it?" 
 VOL. i. a 
 
i8 Rory O'More 
 
 44 Take what ? " said Rory, with a peculiar em- 
 phasis and intonation on the what. 
 
 " My coat," said the other, with extreme effrontery. 
 
 11 1 've a coat o' my own," said Rory, with great 
 composure. 
 
 " That 's not an answer to my question," said the 
 other. 
 
 " I think you ought to be glad to get so quiet an 
 answer," said Rory. 
 
 " I think so too," said the pale traveller. 
 
 u I did not address my conversation to you, sir," 
 said the swaggering gentleman. 
 
 " If you did, sir, you should have been lying in the 
 middle of the road, now," was the taunting rejoinder. 
 
 At this moment, a waiter made his appearance at 
 the door of the inn, bearing the missing coat on his 
 arm ; and handing it up to the owner, he said, " You 
 left this behind you in the parlour, sir." 
 
 The effect was what any one must anticipate : 
 indignant eyes were turned on all sides upon the 
 person making so wanton an aggression, and he him- 
 self seemed to stagger under the evidence against 
 him. He scarcely knew what to do. After much 
 stammering, and hemming and hawing, he took the 
 coat from the waiter, and turning to Rory, said, " I 
 see I forgot I thought that I left it on the 
 coach ; but a I see 't was a mistake." 
 
 u Oh, make no apologies," said Rory ; " we were 
 both undher a mistake." 
 
 " How both ? " said the Don. 
 
 "Why, sir," said Rory, "you mistuk me for a 
 thief, and I mistuk you for a gintleman." 
 
 The swaggerer could not rally against the laugh this 
 bitter repartee made against him, and he was effectu- 
 ally silenced for the rest of the journey. 
 
 Indeed, the conversation soon slackened on all 
 
Rory O'More 19 
 
 sides, for it began to rain ; and it may be remarked, 
 that under such circumstances travellers wrap up 
 their minds and bodies at the same time j and once 
 a man draws his nose inside the collar of his great- 
 coat, it must be something much above the average 
 of stage-coach pleasantry which will make him poke 
 it out again and spirits invariably fall as umbrellas 
 rise. 
 
 But neither great-coats nor umbrellas were long 
 proof against the torrents that soon fell, for these 
 were not the days of Macintosh and India rubber. 
 
 Have you ever remarked, that on a sudden dash of 
 rain the coachman immediately begins to whip his 
 horses ? So it was on the present occasion ; and the 
 more it rained, the faster he drove. Splash they went 
 through thick and thin, as if velocity could have done 
 them any good ; and the rain, one might have thought, 
 was vying with the coachman, for the faster he 
 drove, the faster it seemed to rain. 
 
 At last the passengers seated on the top began to 
 feel their seats invaded by the flood that deluged the 
 roof of the coach, just as they entered a town where 
 there was change of horses to be made. The mo- 
 ment the coach stopped, Rory O'More jumped off", 
 and said to the coachman, u I Ml be back with you 
 before you go ; but don't start before I come : " 
 and away he ran down the town. 
 
 " Faix, that 's a sure way of being back before I 
 go ! " said the driver : " but you J d betther not delay, 
 my buck, or it 's behind I '11 lave you." 
 
 While change was being made, the passengers en- 
 deavoured to procure wads of straw to sit upon, for 
 the wet became more and more inconvenient ; and at 
 last all was ready for starting, and Rory had not yet 
 returned. The horn was blown, and the coachman's 
 patience was just worn out, when Rory hove in sight, 
 
20 Rory O'More 
 
 splashing his way through the middle of the street, 
 flourishing two gridirons over his head. 
 
 " Here I am," said he, panting and nearly ex- 
 hausted : " 'faith, I 'd a brave run for it ! " 
 
 " Why, thin, what the dickens do you want here 
 with gridirons ? " said the coachman. 
 
 "Oh, never mind," said Rory; "jist give me a 
 wisp o' sthraw, and God bless you," said he to one 
 of the helpers who was standing by ; and having got 
 it, he scrambled up the coach, and said to his pale 
 friend, " Now, sir, we '11 be comfortable." 
 
 " I don't see much likelihood of it," said his 
 fellow-traveller. 
 
 " Why, look what I 've got for you," said Rory. 
 
 " Oh, that straw will soon be sopped with rain, and 
 then we '11 be as badly off as before." 
 
 " But it 's not on sthraw I 'm depindin'," said Rory ; 
 " look at this ! " and he brandished one of the gridirons. 
 
 " I have heard of stopping the tide with a pitch- 
 fork," said the traveller, smiling, " but never of 
 keeping out rain with a gridiron." 
 
 " 'Faith, thin, I '11 show you how to do that same," 
 said Rory. "Here sit up clap this gridiron 
 undher you^ and you '11 be undker wather no longer. 
 Stop, sir, stay a minit don't sit down on the bare 
 bars, and be makin' a beefstake o' yourself; here's 
 a wisp o' sthraw to put betune you and the cowld iron 
 and not a dhryer sate in all Ireland than the same 
 gridiron." 
 
 The young traveller obeyed, and while he admired 
 the ingenuity, could not help laughing at the whimsi- 
 cality, of the contrivance. 
 
 " You see I Ve another for myself," said Rory, 
 seating himself in a similar manner on his second 
 gridiron : " and now," added he, " as far as the sates 
 is consarned, it may rain till doomsday." 
 
Rory O'More 21 
 
 Away went the coach again ; and for some time 
 after resuming the journey, the young traveller was 
 revolving the oddity of the foregoing incident in his 
 mind, and led by his train of thought to the considera- 
 tion of national characteristics, he came to the con- 
 clusion that an Irishman was the only man under the 
 sun who could have hit upon so strange an expedient 
 for relieving them from their difficulty. He was 
 struck not only by the originality of the design and 
 the promptness of the execution, but also by the 
 good-nature of his companion in thinking of him 
 on the occasion. After these conclusions had passed 
 through his own mind, he turned to Rory, and said, 
 " What was it made you think of a gridiron ? " 
 " Why, thin, I '11 tell you," said Rory. " I prom- 
 ised my mother to bring a present to the priest from 
 Dublin, and I could not make up my mind rightly 
 what to get all the time I was there. I thought of a 
 pair o' top-boots ; for indeed, his reverence's is none 
 of the best, and only you know them to be top-boots, 
 you would not take them to be top-boots, bekase the 
 bottoms has been put in so often that the tops is wore 
 out intirely, and is no more like top-boots than my 
 brogues. So I wint to a shop in Dublin, and picked 
 out the purtiest pair o' top-boots I could see; whin 
 I say purty, I don't mane a flourishin' c taarin' pair 
 but sitch as was fit for a priest, a respectable pair o' 
 boots; and with that, I pulled out my good money 
 to pay for thim, whin jist at that minit, remembering 
 the thricks o' the town, I bethought o' myself, and 
 says I, c I suppose these are the right thing ? ' says I 
 to the man. i You can thry them,' says he. ' How 
 can I thry them ? ' says I. ' Pull them on you,' says 
 he. 'Throth, an' I'd be sorry,' says I, 'to take 
 sitch a liberty with thim,' says I. c Why, are n't 
 you goin' to ware thim ? ' says he. ' Is it me ? ' says 
 
22 Rory O'More 
 
 I. ' Me ware top-boots ? Do you think it 's talc in. 
 lave of my sinses I am ?' says I. ' Then what do 
 you want to buy them for?' says he. 'For his 
 reverence, Father Kinshela,' says I. ' Are they the 
 right sort for him ? ' ' How should I know ? ' says 
 he. ' You 're a purty boot-maker,' says I, l not to 
 know how to make a priest's boot ! ' ' How do I 
 know his size ? ' says he. ' Oh, don't be comin' off 
 that-a-way,' says I. ' There 's no sitch great differ 
 betune priests and other min!' 
 
 " I think you are very right there," said the pale 
 traveller. 
 
 " To be sure, sir," said Rory ; " and it was only jist 
 a come off 1 for his own ignorance. 'Tell me his size,' 
 says the fellow, l and I'll fit him.' 'He's betune 
 five and six fut,' says I. 'Most men are,' says he, 
 laughin' at me. He was an impidint fellow. 'It 's 
 not the five, nor six, but h two feet I want to know 
 the size of,' says he. So I perceived he was jeerin' 
 me, and says I, ' Why, thin, you disrespectful vaga- 
 bone o' the world, you Dublin jackeen ! do you mane 
 to insinivate that Father Kinshela ever wint barefutted 
 in his life, that I could know the size of his fut,' says 
 I ! and with that I threw the boots in his face. ' Take 
 that,' says I, ' you dirty thief o' the world ! you impi- 
 dint vagabone of the world ! you ignorant citizen o' 
 the world ! ' And with that I left the place." 
 
 The traveller laughed outright at the absurdity of 
 Rory's expectation that well-fitting boots for all per- 
 sons were to be made by intuition. 
 
 " 'Faith, I thought it would plaze you," said Rory. 
 " Don't you think I sarved him right ? " 
 
 " You astonished him, I dare say." 
 
 " I '11 engage I did. Wanting to humbug me that 
 way, taking me for a nath'ral bekase I come from the 
 counthry ! " 
 
Rory 0' More 23 
 
 " Oh, I am not sure of that," said the traveller. 
 4t It is their usual practice to take measure of their 
 customers." 
 
 " Is it, thin ? " 
 
 " It really is." 
 
 " See that, now ! " said Rory, with an air of tri- 
 umph. "You would think that they wor cleverer in 
 the town than in the counthry ; and they ought to be 
 so, by all accounts ; but in the regard of what I 
 towld you, you see, we 're before them intirely." 
 
 " How so ? " said the traveller. 
 
 " Arrah ! bekase they never throuble people in the 
 counthry at all with takin' their measure; but you jist 
 go to a fair, and bring your fut along with you, and 
 somebody else dhrives a cartful o' brogues into the 
 place, and there you sarve yourself; and so the man 
 gets his money and you get your shoes, and every 
 one 's plazed. Now, is n't that betther than sitch 
 botches as thim in Dublin, that must have the meas- 
 ure, and keep you waitin' ? while in the counthry 
 there 's no delay in life, but it 's jist down with your 
 money and off with your brogues ! " 
 
 "On with your brogues, you mean ? " said the 
 traveller. 
 
 " No, indeed, now ! " said Rory ; " you 're out 
 there. Sure we would n't be so wasteful as to put 
 on a bran new pair o' brogues to go lickin' the road 
 home ? no, in throth ; we keep them for the next 
 dance we 're goin' to, or maybe to go to chapel of a 
 Sunday." 
 
 " And if you don't put them on, how can you tell 
 they fit you ? " 
 
 " Oh, they 're all alike ! " 
 
 " But what would you do, when you wanted to go 
 to your dance, if you found your brogues were too 
 small?" 
 
24 Rory 'More 
 
 " Oh, that niver happens. They 're all fine aisy 
 shoes." 
 
 u Well, but if they prove too easy ? " 
 
 " That 's aisy cured," said Rory : " stuff a thriflc 
 o' hay into them, like the Mullingar heifers." 
 
 " Mullingar heifers ! " said the traveller, rather 
 surprised by the oddity of the expression. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Rory ; " did you niver hear of the 
 Mullingar heifers ? " 
 
 " Never." 
 
 u Why, you see, sir, the women in Westmeath, 
 they say, is thick in the legs, God help them, the 
 craythurs ! and so there 's a saying again thim, 
 1 You 're beef to the heels, like a Mullingar 
 heifer.' " 
 
 u Oh ! I perceive." 
 
 " Yes, sir, and it 's all on account of what I towld 
 you about the hay." 
 
 " How ? " said the traveller. 
 
 " Why, there 's an owld joke you may take a turn 
 out of, if you like, whin you see a girl that 's thick 
 in the fetlock you call afther her and say, c Young 
 woman ! ' She turns round, and then says you, c I 
 beg your pardon, ma'am, but I think you 're used to 
 wear hay in your shoes.' Thin, if she 's innocent, 
 she '11 ask ' Why ? ' and thin you '11 say, l Bekase 
 the calves has run down your legs to get at it." 
 
 "I see," said the stranger! "that is, if she's in- 
 nocent." 
 
 " Yis, sir simple I mane; but that seldom hap- 
 pens, for they 're commonly up to you, and 'cute 
 enough." 
 
 " Now, in case she 's not innocent, as you say ? " 
 said the traveller. 
 
 u 'Faith ! maybe it 's a sharp answer you '11 get 
 thin, or none. It 's as like as not she may say. 
 
Rory 0" More 25 
 
 ' Thank 'ee, young man, my calf does n't like hay, and 
 so your welkim to it yourself.'" 
 
 " But all this time," said the traveller, " you have 
 not told me of your reasons for getting the grid- 
 irons." 
 
 " Oh ! wait a bit," said Rory ; " sure it 's thit 
 I 'm comin' to. Where 's this I was ? " 
 
 " You were running down the Mullingar girls' 
 legs," said the traveller. 
 
 " I see you 're sharp at an answer yourself, sir," 
 said Roiy. " But what I mane is, where did I lave 
 off tell in' you about the present for the priest? 
 was n't it at the bootmaker's shop ? yes, that was 
 it. Well, sir, on laving the shop, as soon as I kem 
 to myself afther the fellow's impidince, I begun to 
 think what was the next best thing I could get for 
 his reverence ; and with that, while I was thinkin' 
 about it, I seen a very respectable owld gintleman 
 goin' by, with the most beautiful stick in his hand I 
 ever set my eyes on, and a goolden head to it that 
 was worth its weight in goold j and it gev him such 
 an iligant look altogether, that says I to myself, ' It 's 
 the very thing for Father Kinshela, if I could get 
 sitch another.' And so I wint lookin' about me 
 every shop I seen as I wint by, and at last, in a 
 sthreet they cal Dame Sthreet and, by the same 
 token, I did n't know why they called it Dame Sthreet 
 till I ax'd j and I was towld they called it Dame 
 Sthreet bekase the ladies were so fond o' walkin' 
 there ; and lovely craythurs they wor ! and I can't 
 b'lieve that the town is such an onwholesome place 
 to live in, for most o' the ladies I seen there had the 
 most beautiful rosy cheeks I ever clapt my eyes upon 
 and the beautiful rowlin' eyes o' them ! Well, it 
 was in Dame Sthreet, as I was sayin', that I kem to 
 a shop where there was a power o' sticks, and so 
 
26 Rory O'More 
 
 I wint in and looked at thim ; and a man in the place 
 kern to me and ax'd me if I wanted a cane ? ' No,' 
 says I, ' 1 don't want a cane ; it 's a stick I want,' 
 says I. ' A cane, you mane,' says he. ' No,' says I, 
 'it 's a stick ' for I was detarmined to have no cane, 
 but to stick to the stick. ' Here 's a nate one,' says 
 he. ' I don't want a nate one,' says I, ' but a re- 
 sponsible one,' says I, l 'Faith ! ' says he, ' if an Irish- 
 man's stick was responsible,, it would have a great 
 dale to answer for' and he laughed a power. I 
 did n't know myself what he meant, but that 's what 
 he said." 
 
 " It was because you asked for a responsible stick," 
 said the traveller. 
 
 u And why would n't I," said Rory, " when it was 
 for his reverence I wanted it ? Why would n't he 
 have a nice-lookin', respectable, 1 responsible stick ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said the traveller. 
 
 " Well, I picked out one that looked to my likin' 
 a good substantial stick, with an ivory top to it , 
 for I seen that the goold-headed ones was so dear 
 that I could n't come up to them ; and so says I, 
 1 Give me a howld o' that,' says I and I tuk a grip 
 iv it. I never was so surprised in my life. I thought 
 to get a good, brave handful of a solid stick, but, my 
 dear, it was well it did n't fly out o' my hand a'most, it 
 was so light. ' Phew ! ' says I, ' what sort of a stick 
 is this ? ' 'I tell you it 's not a stick, but a cane,' says 
 he. ' 'Faith ! I b'lieve you,' says I. ' You see how 
 good and light it is,' says he. Think o' that, sir ! 
 to call a stick good and light as if there could be 
 any good in life in a stick that was n't heavy, and 
 could sthreck a good blow ! ' Is it jokin' you are ? ' 
 says I. 'Don't you feel it yourself?' says he. 
 
 i Responsible is always applied by the Irish peasantry in the 
 sense of respectable. 
 
Rory 'More 
 
 1 Throth, I can hardly feel it at all,' says I. l Sure 
 that 's the beauty of it,' says he. Think o' the igno- 
 rant vagabone ! to call a stick a beauty that was as 
 as light a'most as a bulrush ! 4 And so you can 
 hardly feel it!' says he, grinnin'. 4 Yis, indeed,' 
 says I ; l and what 's worse, I don't think I could 
 make any one else feel it either.' ' Oh ! you want a 
 stick to bate people with ! ' says he. 4 To be sure,' 
 says I ; 4 sure that 's the use of a stick.' 4 To knock 
 the sinses out o' people ! ' says he, grinnin' again. 
 4 Sartinly,' says I, l if they 're saucy ' lookin hard 
 at him at the same time, 4 Well, these is only walkin'- 
 sticks,' says he. 4 Throth, you may say runnin'- 
 sticks,' says I, 4 for you dare n't stand before any one 
 with sich a tbraneen as that in your fist.' c Well, 
 pick out the heaviest o' them you plaze,' says he ; 
 4 take your choice.' So I wint pokin' and rummagin' 
 among thim, and, if you believe me, there was n't a 
 stick in their whole shop worth a kick in the shins 
 divil a one ! " 
 
 44 But why did you require such a heavy stick for 
 the priest? " 
 
 14 Bekase there is not a man in the parish wants it 
 more," said Rory. 
 
 44 Is he so quarrelsome, then ? " asked the traveller. 
 
 44 No, but the greatest o' pacemakers," said Rory. 
 
 44 Then what does he want the heavy stick for ? " 
 
 44 For wallopin' his flock, to be sure," said Rory. 
 
 44 Walloping ! " said the traveller, choking with 
 laughter. 
 
 44 Oh ! you may laugh," said Rory ; 44 but, 'pon 
 my sowl ! you would n't laugh if you wor undher his 
 hand, for he has a brave heavy one, God bless him 
 and spare him to us ! " 
 
 "And what is all this walloping for? " 
 
 w Why, sir, whin we have a bit of a fight, for fun, 
 
28 Rory O'More 
 
 or the regular faction one, at the fair, his reverence 
 sometimes hears of it, and comes av coorse." 
 
 u Good God ! " said the traveller in real astonish- 
 ment, "does the priest join the battle? " 
 
 " No, no, no, sir ! I see you 're quite a sthranger 
 in the counthry. The priest join it ! Oh ! by no 
 manes. But he comes and stops it ; and, av coorse, 
 the only way he can stop it is, to ride into thim, and 
 wallop thim all round before him, and disparse thim 
 scatther thim like chaff before the wind; and it's 
 the best o' sticks he requires for that same." 
 
 " But might he not have his heavy stick on pur- 
 pose for that service, and make use of a lighter one 
 on other occasions ? " 
 
 " As for that matther, sir," said Rory, " there 's no 
 knowin' the minit he might want it, for he is often 
 necessiated to have recoorse to it. It might be, going 
 through the village, the public-house is too full, and 
 in he goes and dhrives them out. Oh ! it would de- 
 light your heart to see the style he clears a public- 
 house in, in no time ! " 
 
 " But would n't his speaking to them answer the 
 purpose as well ? " 
 
 " Oh no ! he does n't like to throw away his dis- 
 coorse on thim ; and why should he ? he keeps that 
 for the blessed althar on Sunday, which is a fitter 
 place for it : besides, he does not like to be sevare 
 on us." 
 
 " Severe ! " said the traveller in surprise ; " why, 
 haven't you said that he thrashes you round on all 
 occasions ? " 
 
 " Yis, sir ; but what o' that ? sure that 's nothin' 
 to his tongue his words is like swoords or razhors, 
 I may say : we 're used to a lick of a stick every day, 
 but not to sich language as his reverence sometimes 
 murthers us with whin we displaze him. Oh ! it 's 
 
Rory O'More 29 
 
 terrible, so it is, to have the weight of his tongue 
 on you ! Throth ! I 'd rather let him bate me from 
 this till to-morrow, than have one angry word from 
 him." 
 
 " I see, then, he must have a heavy stick," said the 
 traveller. 
 
 " To be sure he must, sir, at all times ; and that 
 was the raison I was so particular in the shop ; and 
 afther spendin' over an hour would you b'lieve it ? 
 divil a stick I could get in the place fit for a child, 
 much less a man all poor contimptible things; and 
 so the man I was talkin' to says to me at last, ' It 's 
 odd that in all these sticks there is not one to plaze 
 you.' 'You know nothin' about it,' says I. 'You 'd 
 betther be off, and take up no more o' my time,' says 
 he. c As for your time,' says I, 1 1 'd be sorry to idle- 
 anybody ; but in the regard of knowin' a stick, I '11 
 give up to no man,' says I. c Look at that ! ' says I, 
 howldin' up my own purty bit o' blackthorn I had in 
 my fist. * Would you compare your owld batther'd 
 stick,' says he, (there was a few chips out of it, for 
 it is an owld friend, as you may see), l would you 
 compare it,' says he, c to this ? ' howldin' up one of 
 his bulrushes. ' By gor,' says I, c if you like to thry 
 a turn with me, I '11 let you know which is the best ! ' 
 says I. ' You know nothin' about it,' says he 
 1 this is the best o' sugar canes.' c By my sowl, 
 thin ! ' says I, ' you '11 get no sugar out o' this, I 
 promise you ! but at the same time, the divil a 
 sweeter bit o' timber in the wide world than the same 
 blackthorn and if you'd like to taste it you may 
 thry.' l No,' says he ; ' I 'm no happy cure,' (or 
 somethin' he said about cure). * Thin if you 're not 
 aisy to cure,' says I, ' you-'d betther not fight ; ' which 
 is thrue and some men is unwholesome, and 
 must n't fight by raison of it and, indeed, it 's a 
 
30 Rory O'More 
 
 great loss to a man who has n't flesh that 's aisy to 
 hale." 
 
 " I 'm sure of it," said the traveller. " But about 
 the gridiron ? " 
 
 u Sure I 'm tellin' you about it," said Rory ; " only 
 I 'm not come to it yet. You see," continued he, " I 
 was so disgusted with them shopkeepers in Dublin, 
 that my heart was fairly broke with their ignorance, 
 and I seen they knew nothin' at all about what I 
 wanted, and so I came away without any thing for 
 his reverence, though it was on my mind all this day 
 on the road ; and comin' through the last town in the 
 middle o' the rain, I thought of a gridiron." 
 
 " A very natural thing to think of in a shower o' 
 rain," said the traveller. 
 
 "No, 'twas n't the rain made me think of it I 
 think it was God put a gridiron in my heart, seein' 
 that it was a present for the priest I intended; and 
 when I thought of it, it came into my head, afther, 
 that it would be a fine thing to sit on, for to keep one 
 out of the rain, that was ruinatin' my cordheroys on 
 the top o' the coach ; so I kept my eye out as we 
 dhrove along up the sthreet, and sure enough what 
 should I see at a shop half way down the town but 
 a gridiron hanging up at the door ! and so I went 
 back to get it." 
 
 " But is n't a gridiron an odd present ? has n't 
 his reverence one already ? " 
 
 "He had, sir, before it was bruk, but that's 
 what I remembered, for I happened to be up at his 
 place one day, sittin' in the kitchen, when Molly was 
 brillin' some mate an it for his reverence; and while 
 she jist turned about to get a pinch o' salt to shake 
 over it, the dog that was in. the place made a dart at 
 the gridiron on the fire, and threwn it down, and up 
 he whips the mate, before one of us could stop him. 
 
Rory O'More 31 
 
 With that Molly whips up the gridiron, and says she, 
 ' Bad luck to you, you disrespectful baste ! would 
 nothin' sarve you but the priest's dinner ? ' and she 
 made a crack o' the gridiron at him. ' As you have 
 the mate, you shall have the gridiron too,' says she ; 
 and with that she gave him such a rap on the head 
 with it that the bars flew out of it, and his head went 
 through it, and away he pulled it out of her hands, 
 and ran off with the gridiron hangin' round his neck 
 like a necklace and he went mad a' most with it; 
 for though a kettle to a dog's tail is nath'ral, a grid- 
 iron round his neck is very surprisin' to him ; and 
 away he tatthered over the counthry, till there was n't 
 a taste o' the gridiron left together." 
 
 "So you thought of supplying its place ? " said the 
 traveller. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Rory. " I don't think I could do 
 betther." 
 
 " But what did you get two for ? " said the travel- 
 ler. 
 
 u Why, sir, when I thought of how good a sate it 
 would make, I thought of you at the same time." 
 
 " That was very kind of you," said the traveller, 
 " more particularly as I have done nothing to deserve 
 such attention." 
 
 " You '11 excuse me there, sir, if you plaze," said 
 Rory, " you behaved to me, sir, like a gintleman, and 
 the word of civility is never thrown away." 
 
 " Every gentleman, I hope," said the traveller, 
 " would do the same." 
 
 " Every rale gintleman, certainly," said Rory, 
 " but there 's many o' them that calls themselves gin- 
 tlemen that does n't do the like, and it 's the stiff 
 word they have for us, and the hard word maybe 
 and they think good clothes malces all the differ, jist 
 as if a man had n't a heart undher a frieze coat." 
 
32 Rory 0' More 
 
 " I 'm sorry to hear it," said the traveller ; " but 1 
 hope such conduct is not common." 
 
 " Throth there 's more of it than there ought to 
 be," said Rory. " But thim that is the conthrairy is 
 never losers by it and so by me and you, sir, 
 and sure it 's a dirty dog I 'd be, to see the gintleman 
 beside me sittin' in wet, that gave me a share of his 
 paraplew, and the civil word, that is worth more 
 for the hardest rain only wets the body, but the hard 
 word cuts the heart." 
 
 " I have reason to be obliged to you," said the 
 traveller, " and I assure you I am so ; but I should 
 like to know what you '11 do with the second 
 gridiron." 
 
 " Oh, I '11 engage I '11 find use for it," said Rory. 
 
 " Why, indeed," said the traveller, u from the ex- 
 ample you have given of your readiness of invention, 
 I should not doubt that you will, for certainly, you 
 have made, on the present occasion, a most original 
 application of the utensil." 
 
 u 'Faith, I daar say," said Rory, " we are the first 
 mortials wor ever on a gridiron." 
 
 "Since the days of Saint Laurence," said the 
 traveller. 
 
 " Why, used Saint Larrance, God bless him ! sit 
 on a gridiron ? " said Rory. 
 
 " No," said the traveller ; " but he was broiled 
 upon one." 
 
 " Oh the thieves o' the world to brile him ! and 
 did they ate him afther, sir ? " 
 
 " No, no," said the traveller, " they only broiled 
 him. But I thought you good Catholics all knew 
 about the martyrs ? " 
 
 u And so we do, sir, mostly; but I never heerd 
 of Saint Larrance afore ; or if I did, I 'm disremem- 
 bered of it." 
 
Rory 0' More 33 
 
 " But you do know about most of them, you say ? " 
 
 " Oh ! sartinly, sir. Sure I often heerd how 
 
 Saint Stephen was hunted up and down ; which is 
 
 the raison we begin to hunt always on Saint Stephen's 
 
 Day." 
 
 " You forget there too," said the traveller : " Saint 
 
 D * 
 
 Stephen was stoned." 
 
 "To be sure, sir, sure I know he was: did n't 
 I say they run afther him throwin' stones at him, the 
 blackguards! till they killed him huntin' him for 
 his life ? Oh, thin but was n't it a cruel thing to be 
 a saint in thim haythen times, to be runnin' the 
 world over, the poor marchers, as they might well be 
 called ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the traveller ; " those were days of 
 trial to the saints." 
 
 " 'Faith, I go bail they never gave them any thrial 
 at all," said Rory, " but jist murthered them without 
 judge or jury, the vagabones ! though, indeed, for 
 the matther o' that, neither judge nor jury will do a 
 man much good while there 's false witnesses to be 
 had to swear what they 're paid for, and maybe the 
 jury and the judge only too ready to b'lieve them ; 
 and maybe a boy is hanged in their own minds before 
 he 's put on his thrial at all, unless he has a good 
 friend in some great man who does n't choose to let 
 him die." 
 
 " Is it possible," asked the traveller, " that they 
 manage matters here in this way ? " 
 
 " To be sure they do, sir ; and why would n't a 
 gintleman take care of his people if it was plazin' to 
 him ? " 
 
 " It is the laws and not the gentleman should be 
 held in respect," said the traveller : " the poor 
 man's life should never depend upon the rich man's 
 pleasure." 
 VOL. i.- 3 
 
A PEEP INTO IRELAND FORTY YEARS AGO. HINTS 
 
 FOR CHARGING JURIES. EVERY LANDLORD HIS 
 
 OWN LAWGIVER. PRIDE OF BIRTH. A JOCU- 
 LAR PRINCE ON FOOT, AND A POPULAR PEER 
 ON HORSEBACK 
 
 A TRAIN of musing, on the traveller's part, 
 rapidly succeeded his last remark ; and as he 
 went jolting along unconsciously over the wretched 
 road, he was mentally floundering through the deep 
 ruts of political speculation, and looking forward, 
 through the warm haze which a young imagination 
 flings round its objects, to that happier time when 
 Ireland should enjoy a loftier position than that im- 
 plied by what Rory O'More had said. But, alas ! 
 instead of this brilliant advent, blood and crime, and 
 all the fiercer passions that degrade human nature, 
 making man more like a demon than a human being, 
 were the futurity which Ireland was doomed to ex- 
 perience; and while the enthusiasm of the young 
 traveller looked forward to the heights where his 
 imagination enthroned his country's fortunes, he 
 overlooked and saw not the valley of blood that lay 
 between. 
 
 And forty years (almost half a century) have passed 
 away since the young enthusiast indulged in his 
 vision, and still is Ireland the theme of fierce 
 discussion. 
 
Rory O'More 35 
 
 It was Rory O'More's remark upon the nature of 
 judicial trials in Ireland that had started the traveller 
 on his train of musing. An Irishman by birth, he 
 had long been absent from his .native land, and was 
 not aware of its internal details ; and that such a 
 state of feudality as that implied by Rory's observa- 
 tion could exist in Ireland, while England enjoyed the 
 fullest measure of her constitution, might well surprise 
 him : but so it was. 
 
 The period to which this relates was 1797, when 
 distrust, political prejudice, and religious rancour, 
 were the terrible triumvirate that assumed dominion 
 over men's minds. In such a state of things, the 
 temple of justice could scarcely be called a sanctuary, 
 and shelter was to be found rather beneath the mantle 
 of personal influence than under the ermine of the 
 judge. Even to this day, in Ireland, feudal influence 
 is in existence ; but forty years ago, it superseded the 
 laws of the land. 
 
 So much was this the case, that it is worth record- 
 ing an anecdote of the period which is fact : the 
 names it is unnecessary to give. 
 
 A certain instance of brutal assault, causing loss 
 of life, had occurred, so aggravated in its character, 
 that the case almost amounted to murder, and the 
 offender, who stood his trial for the offence, it was 
 expected, would be sentenced to transportation, should 
 he escape the forfeiture of his life to the law. The 
 evidence on his trial was clear and convincing, and 
 all attempts at defence had failed, and the persons 
 assembled in the court anticipated a verdict of guilty 
 on the heaviest counts in the indictment. The pros- 
 ecution and defence had closed, and the judge had 
 nearly summed up the evidence, and was charging 
 the jury directly against the prisoner, when a bustle 
 was perceived in the body of the court. The judge 
 
36 Rory O'More 
 
 ordered the crier to command silence, and that 
 officer obeyed his commands without producing any 
 effect. The judge was about to direct a second and 
 more peremptory command for silence, when a note 
 was handed up to the bench, and the judge himself, 
 instead of issuing his command for silence, became 
 silent himself, and perused the note with great atten- 
 tion. He pursued his charge to the jury no further, 
 but sent up a small slip of paper to the foreman, 
 who forthwith held some whispered counsel with his 
 brother jurors ; and when their heads, that had been 
 huddled together in consultation, separated, and they 
 resumed their former positions, the judge then con- 
 tinued his address to them thus, 
 
 u I have endeavoured to point out to you, gentle- 
 men of the jury, the doubts of this case, but I do not 
 think it necessary to proceed any further ; I have 
 such confidence in your discrimination and good 
 sense, that I now leave the case entirely in your 
 hands : if you are of opinion that what you have 
 been put in possession of in the prisoner's favour coun- 
 terbalances the facts sworn to against him, you will 
 of course acquit him and any doubts you have, I 
 need not tell you should be thrown into the scale of 
 mercy. It is the proud pre-eminence, gentlemen, of 
 our criminal laws laws, gentlemen, which are part 
 and parcel of the glorious constitution that is the 
 wonder and the envy of surrounding nations, that a 
 prisoner is to have the benefit of every doubt ; and 
 therefore, if you think proper, of course you will find 
 the prisoner NOT guilty." 
 
 " Certainly, my lord," said the foreman of the jury, 
 " we are of your lordship's opinion, and we say NOT 
 
 GUILTY." 
 
 The fact was, the great man of the district where 
 the crime had been committed, whose serf the pris- 
 
Rory O'More 37 
 
 oner was, had sent up his compliments to the judge 
 and jury, stating the prisoner to be a most useful per- 
 son to him, and that he would feel extremely obliged if 
 they would acquit him. This ruffian was a sort of 
 bold, sporting, dare-devil character, whose services 
 in breaking-in dogs, and attending his master and his 
 parties on wild mountain-shooting and fishing excur- 
 sions, were invaluable to the squire, and human life, 
 which this fellow had sacrificed, was nothing in the 
 scale when weighed against the squire's diversion. 
 This will scarcely be credited in the present day, 
 nevertheless it is a fact. 
 
 Another 'occurrence of the time shows the same 
 disregard of the law ; though the case is by no 
 means so bad, inasmuch as the man was only taken 
 up for an offence, but was not tried he was only 
 rescued to save him that trouble. He had committed 
 some offence which entitled him to a lodging in the 
 county gaol, and was accordingly taken into custody 
 by the proper authorities ; but, as the county town 
 was too distant to send him to at once, he was 
 handed over to the care of a military detachment 
 that occupied a small village in the neighbourhood. 
 To the little barrack-yard or guard-house of this out- 
 post he was committed ; but he did not remain there 
 long, for his mountain friends came down in great 
 numbers and carried him off in triumph, having 
 forced the barracks. The moment the colonel of 
 the regiment, a detachment of which occupied the 
 post, received intelligence of the circumstance, he 
 marched the greater part of his men to the place, 
 vowing he would drag the prisoner who had been 
 committed to the care of his troops from the very 
 heart of his mountains, and that neither man, woman, 
 nor child should be spared who dared to protect him 
 from capture. While the colonel, who was an 
 
38 Rory 0^ More 
 
 Englishman, was foaming with indignation at this 
 contempt of all order displayed by the Irish, Mr. 
 French waited upon him and asked him to dinner. 
 The English colonel said, he would be most happy 
 at any other time, but at present it was impossible ; 
 that if he could, he would neither eat, drink, nor 
 sleep, till he had vindicated the laws. 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ! my dear sir," said Mr. French, 
 " it is all very well to talk about the laws in Eng- 
 land, but they know nothing about them here." 
 
 11 Then it 's time, sir, they should be taught," said 
 the colonel. 
 
 " Well, don't be in a hurry, at least, my dear sir," 
 said Mr. French. " I assure you the poor people 
 mean no disrespect to the laws ; it is in pure igno- 
 rance they have made this mistake." 
 
 11 Mistake ! " said the colonel. 
 
 " Ton my soul ! nothing more," said Mr. French ; 
 " and if you think to make them wise at the point of 
 the bayonet, you '11 find yourself mistaken : you '11 
 have the whole country in an uproar, and do no good 
 after all ; for once these fellows have given you the 
 slip, you might as well go hunt after mountain- 
 goats." 
 
 " But, consistently with my duty, sir " 
 
 u Your duty will keep till to-morrow, colonel 
 dear, and you '11 meet three or four other magistrates, 
 as well as me, at my house, who will tell you the 
 same that I have done. You '11 be wiser to-mor- 
 row, depend upon it: so come home with me to 
 dinner." 
 
 The colonel, who was a man of deliberation, rode 
 home with Mr. French, who talked him over as they 
 went along : " You see, my dear sir, how is it 
 possible you should know the people as well as we 
 do ? Believe me, every landlord knows his own 
 
Rory 0" More 39 
 
 tenantry best, and we make it a point here never to 
 interfere with each other in that particular. Now, 
 the fellow they took away from your men " 
 
 " Curse them ! " said the colonel. 
 
 " Keep yourself cool, my dear colonel. That 
 fellow, for instance now be is one of Blake's 
 men : and if Blake wants the fellow to be hanged, 
 he '11 send him in to you." 
 
 " Send him in ! why, sir, if my regiment could 
 not keep the rascal, what chance has Mr. Blake of 
 making him prisoner ? " 
 
 " I said nothing, colonel, of making him prisoner : 
 I said, and still say, that if Blake wants him to be 
 hanged, he '11 send him in" 
 
 " Do you mean to say, my good sir, that he '11 
 desire him to come in and be hanged ? " 
 
 " Precisely." , 
 
 " And will he come ? " 
 
 " Most undoubtedly, if Blake desires him." 
 
 The colonel dined with Mr. French that day : the 
 day following the regiment was marched back to 
 head quarters, and Blake did not send in his man 
 to be hanged. So much for feudality ! 
 
 But the young traveller knew not these facts, and 
 he was awakened from the reverie in which he was 
 indulging by the blowing of a long tin horn, announc- 
 ing the arrival of the coach at a dirty little town, 
 where it was to stop for the night. It drove up to 
 what was called a hotel, round the door of which, 
 though still raining heavily, a crowd of beggars stood, 
 so thick, that the passengers could hardly press their 
 way through them into the house ; and while they 
 were thus struggling for admittance, obstreperous 
 prayers assailed their ears on all sides, in horrid dis- 
 cord and strange variety for their complaints and 
 their blessings became so jumbled together as to pro- 
 
40 Rory 0" More 
 
 duce a ludicrous effect. There were blind and lame, 
 broken bones, widows and orphans, &c. &c. 
 
 " Pity the blind ! and may you never see 
 
 To-morrow morning won't find me alive if you 
 don't relieve " 
 
 " The guard will give me something, your honour, 
 if you '11 only bid him " 
 
 " Be quiet, you divil ! and don't taze the gintle- 
 man ! Sure he has " 
 
 " Three fatherless childher " 
 
 11 And broke his two legs " 
 
 " That is stone blind " 
 
 "And met a dhreadful accident! and sure the 
 house fell on him, and he 's lyin' undher it these 
 three weeks without a bit to ate, but " 
 
 " Three fatherless childher and a dissolute 
 widow " 
 
 M Lying on the broad of her back, with nothing on 
 her but " 
 
 " The small-pox, your honour ! " 
 
 " For Heaven's sake ! let me pass," said the 
 young' traveller, who had a horror of the small-pox ; 
 and pressing through the crowd that environed him 
 into the house, he entered the first room he saw, and 
 suddenly closed the door behind him. 
 
 As soon, however, as he recovered his first alarm 
 at the mention of the terrible disease he so much 
 dreaded, he called for the waiter, and made inquiries 
 for Rory. Finding he was in the house, he sent him 
 a message to say he would be glad to see him ; and 
 on Rory making his appearance, he requested him 
 to be seated, and asked him would he have something 
 to drink ? 
 
 Rory declined it, until the traveller said that he 
 himself would join him in a potation after their 
 wetting; and when Rory understood that the travel- 
 
Rory 0' More 41 
 
 ler meant they should sit down together over their 
 glasses, he accepted the offer with modest thankful- 
 ness, and expressed his acknowledgment for the 
 honour done him by his travelling companion. 
 
 In the course of their conversation, the young 
 traveller found, that with all the apparent simplicity 
 of Rory, he was not deficient in intelligence ; and 
 that the oddity of the incidents in which he had 
 described himself as being an actor, arose more from 
 the novelty of his position in a large city, than in 
 any inherent stupidity. He became possessed of his 
 name also, and Rory could not help showing his 
 pride in having one so good ; for while he affected 
 to laugh at his proud descent, it was quite clear he 
 had a firm belief in it. 
 
 " I suppose, sir, you have heerd tell of one Rory 
 O'More in the owld times ? " 
 
 " Yes ; King of Leinster, you mean." 
 
 " So they say, sir, that he and his people before 
 him wor kings time out o' mind, until bad fortune 
 came to thim, and they went to the bad entirely; 
 and the English dhruv thim out, bekaze they had 
 a way of puttin' between people ; and while they 
 were squabblin' one with the other, the English used 
 to come in and do them both out like the owld 
 story of the lawyer and the oysthers. Well, when 
 once they were dhruv out, they went witherin' and 
 dwindlin' down by degrees ; and at last they had n't 
 a fut of land left thim, nor even a house over their 
 heads ; and so we wor reduced that way, sir." 
 
 " Then you consider yourself the descendant of 
 the O'More ? " said the traveller. 
 
 " Throth, sir, and they say that we are the owld 
 O'Mores, but sure I laugh at it." 
 
 " But would n't you be angry if any one else 
 laughed at it? " 
 
42 Rory O'More 
 
 " I dunna but I might," said Rory, with much 
 ingenuousness. 
 
 " And why do you laugh at it then ? " 
 
 " Why, afther all, sir, sure it 's quare enough for a 
 man to be talking of his great relations that was 
 formerly, when at this present he is only a poor 
 workin' man ; and if I was ever so much the thrue 
 discindant of Rory O'More, sure I can't forget what 
 I am now." 
 
 " You may be the representative of the house for 
 all that," said the traveller. 
 
 " Oh ! as for the house," said Rory, " 'pon my 
 sowl ! there 's a cruel differ there betune us : the 
 right Rory O'More lived in Dunamaise that was 
 something like a house ! and I have only a poor 
 cabin to live in." 
 
 " But still you may be the true descendant of the 
 right Rory, as you call him," said the traveller, who 
 wished to probe the feelings of the peasant on this 
 subject, and discover how far the pride of birth could 
 survive loss of station : and he was pleased to dis- 
 cover (for he was himself of high descent) that ages 
 of misfortune could not extinguish the fire of a proud 
 race; and he more than ever felt the truth of the 
 observation, that it is only they who have no ancestry 
 to boast of who affect to despise it, 
 
 To such as these, or those to whom ancestral power 
 as well as name has descended, or to the many who 
 take no pleasure in tracing to their secret sources the 
 springs of action and feeling in the human mind and 
 heart, it may seem incredible that a poor peasant 
 could retain the pride of birth when all its substantial 
 appendages were gone : yet so it was. But it was 
 a pride that was unobtrusive. Circumstances had 
 modified and moulded it to the necessities of the 
 peasant's station : he was respectful in his demeanour 
 
Rory O'More 43 
 
 to all whose position in society was better than his 
 own, conscious though he might be of their inferior 
 blood ; and while he took off his hat to some wealthy 
 plebeian, he never considered the blood of the 
 O'Mores to be degraded. The fallen fortunes of 
 his house were not a subject of personal regret to him ; 
 it was in a national point of view they were lamented. 
 That Ireland had lost her King of Leinster he con- 
 sidered a misfortune ; but he never for a moment 
 regretted that he, his heir, as he believed himself to 
 be (and, perhaps, was), was obliged to eat potatoes 
 and salt. But of the fair fame of the O'More he 
 was as jealous as their founder; and insult, in the 
 remotest degree, roused the latent feelings of family 
 pride in his- bosom. Not the great Rory himself, 
 perched on his castled crag of Dunamaise, could be 
 more jealous of the honour of his house than his 
 humble namesake in his thatched cabin. 
 
 The young traveller, it has been already said, took 
 pleasure in making manifest this feeling of our hero ; 
 and in doing so, he found that Rory had a provincial 
 as well as personal pride of ancestry. The south, 
 Rory protested, " bet all Ireland in the regard of high 
 blood." 
 
 "They have good blood in the north, too," said 
 the traveller. 
 
 " Oh, they may have a thrifle of it ; but it 's not 
 of the rale owld sort nothing to compare with us." 
 
 " Do you forget the O'Neil ? " said the traveller. 
 
 "Oh, that's good, I don't deny," said Rory 
 "but one swallow makes no summer." 
 
 " But I can count more than one," said the trav- 
 eller; "here's Talbot, De Lacy, Fitzgerald " 
 
 " Oh, murther ! murther ! sir, sure thim is only 
 invadhers, and not the owld Irish at all. You 
 would never compare thim with the O'Mores, the 
 
44 Rory O'More 
 
 O'Dempsys, the O'Connells, the O'Donaghues, the 
 O'Shaughnessys " 
 
 " Stop, stop ! " said the traveller, who did not know 
 to what length this bead-roll of O's might extend ; 
 " you forget that the head of the Fitzgeralds is Duke 
 of Leinster." 
 
 " But O'More was King of Leinsther, sir, if you 
 plaze." 
 
 "Very true, Rory; but still the Geraldines are a 
 noble race." 
 
 " Who are they, sir ? " 
 
 " The Fitzgeralds." 
 
 " Oh, the Juke of Leinsther you mane, is it ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " 'Faith, thin, to show you, sir, how little we think 
 o' them down in the south, I '11 tell you something 
 that I know is a thruth, bekase I had it from 
 O'Dempsy himself, who played the thrick an the 
 juke, and said the thing to him, for he 's a comical 
 blade." 
 
 " Well, what is it ? " 
 
 "Why, you see, sir, O'Dempsy was comin' home 
 from Dublin, and the money was getting fine-dhrawn 
 with him, and he wanted to see if he had enough left 
 to pay for the coach home ; and, by dad, the change 
 was so scarce that he was obliged to hunt it up in his 
 pocket into the corner, like a contrairy cowlt, before 
 he could lay howld of it at all ; and when he did get 
 it into the pawrrj of his fist, it was a'most ashamed to 
 see the light, it looked so contimptible; and my 
 bowld O'Dempsy seen the coach was out o' the 
 question, or even a lift in the canal-boat, and so he 
 put his thrust in Providence, and took a big dhrink 
 that night to sthrenthin him for the mornin' ; and the 
 next day off he set home, with a short stick in his 
 hand and a pair o' good legs undher him ; and he met 
 
Rory O'More 45 
 
 nothin* remarkable antil he came to betune Kilcock 
 and Maynooth; and it was thin that he heerd the 
 thramp of horses gallopin' afther him, and he turned 
 round and seen three gintlemen comin' up in great 
 style : one o' them, a fine full handsome man, the 
 picthur of a gintleman, and a fine baste undher him, 
 and the gintlemin along with him very nice too ; one 
 in particular, a smart nate-made man, with a fine 
 bright eye and a smilin' face, and a green handkicher 
 round his neck, and a sportin' aisy sate on his horse; 
 and Dempsy heerd him say, as they dhrew up jist 
 behind him, l Look what a fine step that fellow has ! ' 
 (manin' O'Dempsy ; and, indeed, a claner boy is n't 
 in all Ireland than himself, and can walk with any 
 man). So when they came up to him, the small 
 gintleman said, l God save you ! ' ' God save you 
 kindly, sir ! ' says O'Dempsy. l You don't let the 
 grass grow undher your feet, my man,' says the 
 gintleman. l Nor corn neither, sir,' says Dempsy. 
 4 So I see by the free step you have,' says the gintle- 
 man, laughin' ; and the others laughed too, the full 
 gintleman in particular ; and says he, l Well, Ned, 
 you got your answer.' 
 
 " Now the minit that O'Dempsy heerd the word 
 4 Ned,' and it bein' in the neighbourhood of Cartown, 
 which is the Juke o' Leinsther's place, the thought 
 jumped into his head that it was Lord Edward Fitz- 
 jaraF was in it ; for he always heerd he was small, 
 and handsome, and merry, and that the juke his 
 brother was a fine-lookin' man ; and so with that he 
 made cock-sure in his own mind that the full gintle- 
 man was the Juke o' Leinsther, and the little one 
 Lord Edward. So hearin' that Lord Edward liked a 
 joke, O'Dempsy never let on to suspect who they 
 wor, and they walked along beside him, and had a 
 great dale o' discoorse and jokin', and the answers 
 
46 Rory 'More 
 
 passin' betune them as fast as hops. At last says the 
 juke (for it was himself), 4 You 're a very merry 
 fellow,' says he ; 4 where do you come from ? ' 4 From 
 Dublin, sir,' says O'Dempsy. 4 Oh, I know that by 
 the road you're goin',' says the juke; 4 but I mane, 
 where is your place ? ' 4 'Faith and I have no place,' 
 says O'Dempsy: 4 I wish I had.' 'That's a touch 
 at youj says the juke to the third gintleman, whoever 
 he was. 4 But where are you goin' to ? ' says the 
 juke. 4 1 'm goin' home, sir,' says O'Dempsy. 4 And 
 where are you when you 're at home ? ' says the juke. 
 4 'Faith, I 'm at home every where,' says O'Dempsy. 
 
 44 Well, Lord Edward laughed at his brother, seein' 
 he could n't force a sthraigt answer out of O'Dempsy. 
 4 Will you tell me thin,' says the juke, 4 which are 
 you Ulsther, Leinsther, Munsther, or Connaught ? ' 
 'Leinsther, sirs,' says O'Dempsy, though it was a 
 lie he was tellin' ; but it was on purpose to have a 
 laugh agin the juke, for he was layin' a thrap for him 
 all the time. 4 You don't spake like a Leinsther 
 man,' says the juke. * 4 Oh, the tongue is very desait- 
 ful sometimes,' says O'Dempsy. 
 
 44 Lord Edward laughed at his brother agin, and 
 said, he'd make no hand of him. 4 By gor,', says 
 Lord Edward, 4 that fellow would bate Counsellor 
 Curran ! ' 4 Well, I '11 thry him once more,' says the 
 juke ; and with that, says he to O'Dempsy, 4 What 's 
 your name ? ' Now that was all O'Dempsy wanted, 
 for to nick him ; and so says he, 4 My name is 
 O'Shaughnessy, sir.' 4 1 've cotch you now,' says 
 the juke : 4 you can't be a Leinsther man, with that 
 name.' 4 'Faith, I see you're too able for me, 
 sir,' says O'Dempsy, laading him on. 4 Well, Mr. 
 O'Shaughnessy,' says the juke, 4 it 's somewhere out 
 of Munsther you come.' 4 No, 'faith, sir,' says 
 O'Dempsy, 4 1 am a Leinsther man, in airnest ; but I 
 
Rory O'More 47 
 
 see you could n't be desaived about the name, and so 
 I '11 tell you the thruth, and nothin' but the thmth, 
 about it. I am a Leinsther man, but I wint to live 
 in Munsther, and I was obleeged to change my name, 
 bekaze they had no respect for me there with the one 
 I had.' l And what was your name ? ' says the juke. 
 1 My name was Fitzjarl', sir,' says O'Dempsy ; ' but 
 they thought me only an upstart down in Munsther, 
 so I changed it into O'Shaughnessy.' With that the 
 juke and Lord Edward laughed out hearty, and the 
 third gintleman says to the juke, l l think you've got 
 your hit now.' Well, sir, the juke pulled a guinea 
 out of his pocket, and put it into O'Dempsy's hand, 
 and says to him, laughin', c Take that, you merry 
 rascal, and dhrink my health ! ' ' Long life to your 
 grace!' says O'Dempsy, taking off his hat, ' you de- 
 sarve to be an O' Shaughnessy ! ' 4 More power to 
 you, Paddy ! ' says Lord Edward as they put spurs to 
 their horses ; and away they powdhered down the 
 road, laughin' like mad." 
 
 The young traveller enjoyed Rory's anecdote ex- 
 cessively and scarcely knew which to admire most, 
 the impudent waggery of Rory's friend, or the good 
 humour of the Duke of Leinster and Lord Edward 
 Fitzgerald. 
 
 After much praise of the latter, and some other 
 strange odds and ends from Rory, the travellers 
 separated for the night. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 JOURNEY CONTINUED. DESULTORY COACH CONVER- 
 SATION, IN WHICH THE LIBERTY OF " THE 
 
 PRESS" is DISCUSSED, AND THE THISTLE DE- 
 CLARED TO BE NOT INDIGENOUS TO IRELAND. 
 ARGUMENTS AND COACHES LIABLE TO BREAK 
 DOWN. HINTS FOR KEEPING HOUNDS, ETC. ETC. 
 
 ON the following morning the coach resumed its 
 journey, and Rory and the stranger still con- 
 tinued fellow-travellers. 
 
 The insolent aggressor upon Rory, as well as the 
 passenger who sat beside him, did not appear ; but 
 their places were occupied by a person to whom 
 Rory touched his hat as he took his seat, and another 
 who seemed to be his companion. The latter was 
 decidedly a Scotchman ; what the other might be, 
 it was not so easy to decide perhaps North of 
 England. 
 
 He addressed Rory and expressed surprise at see- 
 ing him. 
 
 " Throth, and it 's jist as little I expected to see 
 you, Mr. Scrubbs," said Rory. 
 
 " I was up here on a little business," said Scrubbs. 
 
 " That 's what you 're always up to, Mr. Scrubbs," 
 answered Rory. 
 
 " And you 're just as ready for fun, Rory. I sup- 
 pose it was that brought you here ? " 
 
 " No, indeed, sir, it was the coach brought me 
 here yestherday." 
 
Rory O'More 49 
 
 u Ay, ay, there you are at your answers ! I 
 suppose it was in Dublin, then, you would be ? " 
 
 " No, indeed, I would n't be if I could help it." 
 
 " Well, but you were there ? " 
 
 " Yes, I was." 
 
 " And what business had you in Dublin ? " 
 
 "About the lease of the place below." 
 
 " Did n't I tell you I 'd see about that when the 
 agent came down ? " 
 
 " Why, you wor seein' about it so long that I 
 thought it might be out o' sight at last, and so I 
 wint myself to the head agent, and settled it at wanst." 
 
 Scrubbs did not seem well pleased at this informa- 
 tion ; and silence having ensued in consequence, 
 Rory took from his pocket a newspaper and began to 
 read. For some time Scrubbs cast suspicious glances 
 at the paper, till at last, when Rory turned over its 
 front page and discovered the title of " The Press," 
 Scrubbs could no longer remain silent. 
 
 " I wonder you 're not ashamed," said Scrubbs. 
 
 " Of what ? " said Rory. 
 
 "To read that paper." 
 
 " 'Faith, I 'd be more ashamed if I could n't read 
 it ! " said Rory. 
 
 " Why, it 's all sedition, and treason, and blas- 
 phemy." 
 
 -" What 's blasphemy ? " said Rory. 
 
 " 'T is a word," said the young traveller, " that 
 some people always join to treason and sedition." 
 
 Scrubbs gave a look askance at the last speaker; 
 but seeing he was a gentleman and rather better 
 dressed than himself, he made no observation to him, 
 but said in continuance to Rory, "I always thought 
 you were of the peaceable and well-disposed class, 
 O'More, and I 'm sorry to see you read that des- 
 perate paper." 
 VOL. i. 4 
 
50 Rory O'More 
 
 " 'Faith, it 's very desperate, sure enough, if it be 
 thrue what they say here, that bank-notes will be 
 soon worth nothin', and won't bring a penny a pound 
 in a snuff-shop." 
 
 " What 's that but treason, I 'd like to know ? " 
 said Scrubbs ; u endeavouring to undermine the 
 government ? " 
 
 " Sairtainly," said the Scotchman, " it is varra bad 
 to destroy the cawnfidence in pooblic creydit." 
 
 u I dar say, sir," said Rory to the Scotchman, 
 " you would rather have bank-notes than golden 
 guineas ? " 
 
 " I did na say that," said the Scotchman drily ; 
 " but bank-notes are a suffeecient security." 
 
 " And they say here," said Rory, " that we ought n't 
 to dhrink tay nor coffee, nor take snuff, nor smoke 
 tabacky, nor dhrink whisky." 
 
 " And what do you think of that ? " said 
 Scrubbs. 
 
 " 'Faith, I think thim that has no money will fol- 
 low their advice," said Rory. 
 
 " Ay ! but look at the villainous intention to 
 injure the revenue, or produce a rebellion." 
 
 "You think, then," said the traveller, " that peo- 
 ple must either smell snuff or gunpowder, whether 
 they will or no ? " 
 
 " I know, sir, they '11 have gunpowder enough if 
 it goes to that. We have plenty of loyal men to put 
 down sedition, both militia and yeomanry." 
 
 u Which you can't trust," said the traveller. 
 
 " Do you doubt their loyalty, sir ? " said Scrubbs, 
 waxing rather angry. 
 
 u It would seem the government does," said the 
 traveller, u for whole regiments of yeomanry have 
 been disbanded this year." 
 
 This was a bitter truth to Scrubbs, who not being 
 
Rory O'More 51 
 
 able to deny the fact, returned to the charge upon 
 " The Press." 
 
 11 As for that vile paper, they would do right to 
 serve it as 4 The Northern Star ' was served the other 
 day, when the Donegal militia, God bless them ! 
 broke open their office, burnt their papers, and broke 
 their printing-presses." 
 
 " What noble and constitutional work for soldiers 
 to be employed upon ! " said the traveller. " I do 
 not wonder, when the cloth is so degraded, that high- 
 minded gentlemen, such as the Duke of Leinster, Lord 
 O'Neil, and Colonel Conolly, resign their regiments." 
 
 This was another bitter fact to which Scrubbs was 
 unable to reply ; so, leaving the field in possession of 
 the enemy, he addressed his Scotch friend on some 
 fresh subject, and thus evaded the discussion. 
 
 The traveller with Rory, and Scrubbs with the 
 Scotchman, now kept themselves distinct, and the 
 day was passing away slowly enough, the monotony 
 of the road only broken by some occasional remark 
 between Scrubbs and his friend, or the young travel- 
 ler and Rory : seeming to observe each other with 
 mutual distrust, a restraint was put upon general con- 
 versation, and it was only some passing observation 
 on the surrounding scenery that either party would 
 venture to indulge in. 
 
 The day was more than half spent, when they 
 were driving through a fine tract, of country, which 
 called forth the Scotchman's admiration. 
 
 u A fine kintra, this, Mr. Scrubbs," said he. 
 
 " Yes," said Scrubbs, " 't is a good sort of country, 
 but not fit to compare with England." 
 
 Rory looked indignantly at him, but said nothing. 
 
 " I dinna ken aboot England," said the Scotch- 
 man ; " but this kintra puts me varra much in mind 
 o' my ain." 
 
52 Rory O'More 
 
 " Your kinthry, do you say ? " said Rory with 
 what heroines call "ineffable contempt." 
 
 " Yes, my kintra." 
 
 u Oh, do you hear this ! ! " said Rory to the young 
 traveller. " He is comparin' this counthry to his ! ! 
 Why, tare an' ouns ! sir," said Rory to the Scotch- 
 man ; " sure you would n't be comparin' this lovely 
 fine counthry to Scotland or sayin' it was like it ? " 
 
 " Yes, but I would, though," said the Scotchman 
 pertinaciously. 
 
 " Why, by the seven blessed candles, you have n't 
 seen a thistle for the last tin miles ! " said Rory. 
 
 The young traveller laughed at Rory's illustration, 
 and the silence and disunion of the two parties in- 
 creased. 
 
 Thus the day wore on uncomfortably enough, and 
 the evening began to close, when a premature stop 
 was put to their journey by the breaking down of the 
 coach. 
 
 Fortunately for the passengers, the accident was 
 not one that placed them in any danger. Some of 
 them were nearly thrown off, and a lady passenger 
 who was inside screamed, of course; and the more 
 she was assured that there was no danger, the louder 
 she screamed. In the mean while, the passengers 
 jumped off; and the extreme amount of damage to 
 them was, that they could proceed no further by the 
 coach on their journey as one of the wheels was 
 broken. 
 
 Now, whenever an accident of this kind occurs 
 which is manifestly so had as to be beyond retrieving, 
 it may be remarked that every one looks at it in all 
 possible ways under it, and over it, and round it, 
 just as if looking at it could do any good. So were 
 the passengers congregated round the wheel of the 
 coach, all making their remarks. 
 
Rory 0' More 53 
 
 " It was the nave," said one. 
 
 No, the spokes," said another. 
 
 " Oh dear, no, the tire," added a third. 
 
 " Most provoking ! " 
 
 " Scandalous ! " said Scrubbs ; " like every thing 
 else in this country ! The proprietors ought to be 
 prosecuted for having a coach in such a condition." 
 
 " Murther, murther ! " said the coachman, who 
 lost his temper at last when the honour of his coach 
 was concerned : " do you hear this ! just as if an 
 accident never happened to a coach before." 
 
 " When people pay their money," said Scrubbs, 
 u they have a right to complain." 
 
 " Sairtainly," said the Scotchman. " In fac, I 
 'thenk the money should be refunded." 
 
 " Arrah ! listen to him ! " said Rory aside to the 
 stranger. 
 
 " How far is the coach from the end of the jour- 
 ney ? " said the lady. 
 
 " 'Pon my word, ma'am," said Rory, " the coach 
 is at the end of its journey for this day, any how." 
 
 " And what are we to do ? " said the lady. 
 
 " I 'd adveyse," said the Scotchman, " that we 
 should get poost-chaises, and chorge them to the 
 coach propreytors." 
 
 " 'Faith, that 's a fine plan, if you could get them" 
 said Rory. 
 
 " Then what are we to do ? " said the lady, again. 
 
 " If you 'd be quiet the laste taste, ma'am, if you 
 plaze," said the coachman, " we '11 conthrive some 
 conthrivance by-and-by." 
 
 " Why, the night is falling," said the lady. 
 
 " It 's time for it," said Rory. 
 
 " My God ! " said the lady, " what odd answers 
 these people give one ! " 
 
 The horses became restless, for the wheelers, pull- 
 
54 Rory O'More 
 
 ing, and finding so much resistance, began to kick, 
 and their example set the leaders going : the coach- 
 man and Rory ran to their heads. 
 
 " Bad luck to you, you fools ! " said Rory to the 
 horses ; " sure, it 's glad, and not sorry, you ought to 
 be, that the dhrag is off o' you ; be quite ! you gar- 
 rans, will you ! " and he forced them at last into some 
 obedience. " I tell you what you Ml do now," said 
 he to the coachman : " jist take off the horses, they '11 
 be quite enough here, grazing by the side o' the gripe ; l 
 and you get on one o' them, and pelt away into the 
 town, and come out agin wid a fresh coach." 
 
 " Throth, and it 's the best plan, 1 b'lieve," said 
 the coachman, " afther all." 
 
 " And must we stay here ? " said the lady. 
 
 " Barrin' you walk, ma'am." 
 
 " And how far might it be to walk ? " 
 
 " 'Faith, I don't rightly know," said the coachman. 
 
 " You 're a feyne driver," said the Scotchman, 
 u not to know the distance on your ain road." 
 
 " I know it well enough whin I 'm dhriven," said 
 the coachman ; u but how should I know how far it 
 is to walk ? " 
 
 " Why, you stupid rascal ! " said the Scotchman, 
 about to make an elaborate argument to show the 
 coachman the bull he had made, but he was inter- 
 rupted by Rory. 
 
 "Arrah! never mind his prate, Hoolaghan ; do 
 what I bid you, away wid you into town ! ' 
 
 " Indeed, I think 't is the best thing you can do," 
 said the young traveller. 
 
 " And must we stay here ? Why 't is growing 
 dark already, and we may be murdered while you are 
 away." 
 
 u Divil a one 'ill take the throuble to murder you 
 
 1 The ditch. 
 
55 
 
 don't be in the laste a'fear'd ! " said Rory. " Up 
 wid you now on the grey, Hoolaghan, your sowl, and 
 powdher away like shot ! " 
 
 " What 's that he 's saying, sir, about powder and 
 shot ? " said the lady in alarm. 
 
 " He 's only giving directions to the coachman, 
 madam," said the young traveller. 
 
 u But he said powder and shot ! sir : is there any 
 danger ? " 
 
 " None in the least, I assure you, madam." 
 
 " The horses 'ill stay quite enough while you 're 
 gone," said Rory ; " here, gi' me your fut I '11 lift 
 you on the baste." And so saying, Hoolaghan placed 
 his left foot in Rory's right hand ; and thus aided, he 
 sprang astride of one of the coach-horses. 
 
 " There now," said Rory, " you 're up ! and away 
 wid you ! Jist be into the town in no time, and back 
 in less. ' That 's the cut ! says Cutty, when he cut 
 his mother's throat.' ' : 
 
 " What 's that he 's saying, sir, about cutting 
 throats ? " said the lady. 
 
 "Nothing, madam, I assure you, you need be 
 alarmed at," said the traveller. 
 
 " Indeed, you need not make yourself onaisy, 
 ma'am, in the laste," said Rory, after he had placed 
 Hoolaghan on horseback. " It will be all over with 
 you soon now." 
 
 The lady shuddered at the phrase, but spoke not. 
 
 " And now, sir," said Rory to his felllow-traveller, 
 " it 's time we should be thinkin' of ourselves : 
 there's no use you should be loitherin' here until the 
 other coach comes back ; for though it 's some miles 
 from the town, where, I suppose, you were goin' to, it 's 
 not far from this where I must turn off to my own 
 place, which lies acrass the counthry, about two miles 
 or thereaway ; and if you, sir, would n't think it be- 
 
56 Rory O'More 
 
 nathe you to come to a poor man's house, sure it 's 
 proud I 'd be to give your honour a bed ; and though 
 it may not be as good as you 're used to, still maybe 
 't will be betther than stoppin' here by the roadside." 
 
 The traveller expressed his thanks to Rory for the 
 kindness of his offer, but said that perhaps he could 
 as well walk to the town. To this Rory objected, 
 suggesting the probability of the traveller's losing his 
 way, as he could only be his guide as far as the point 
 where he had to turn towards his own home ; besides 
 many other arguments urged on Rory's part with so 
 much heart and cordiality, that he prevailed on his 
 fellow-traveller to accept his proffered hospitality. 
 Selecting a small portmanteau from the luggage, the 
 traveller was about to throw it over his shoulder, 
 when Rory laid hold of it, and insisted on carrying it 
 for him. 
 
 " You Ve your own luggage to carry ! " said the 
 traveller. 
 
 "Sure, mine is nothin' more than a small bundle 
 no weight in life." 
 
 " And your gridirons, Rory ? " 
 
 " By the powers ! I was near forgettin' thim" 
 said Rory ; " but sure, thim itself is no weight, and I 
 can carry thim all ! " 
 
 "Stay a moment," said the traveller, whose gal- 
 lantry forbade that he should leave the lady of the 
 party, alarmed as she was, in such a situation, and 
 apparently not regularly protected, without the offer 
 of his services. He approached the coach, into which 
 the lady had retired to avoid the dew that was now 
 falling heavily, and made his offer with becoming 
 courtesy. 
 
 41 1 'm much obliged to you, sir," said she, " but I 
 have my husband here." 
 
 "Thank you, sir," said a miserable-looking little 
 
Rory O'More 57 
 
 man, who had not uttered a word before ; " I am this 
 lady's husband." - - He did not dare to say, " This 
 lady 's my wife." 
 
 The traveller made his bow, and he and his guide, 
 leaving the forlorn coach-passengers on the road, pro- 
 ceeded at a smart pace towards the cottage of Rory 
 O'More. 
 
 " Those people, I think, are likely to remain a 
 good while before assistance can reach them," said 
 the traveller. 
 
 "'Faith, I'm thinkin' myself they'll have a good 
 long wait of it," said Rory ; " and in throth I 'm not 
 sorry for some of thim." 
 
 " Don't you pity that unfortunate woman ? " 
 
 " Sorra much ! " said Rory ; " the screechin' fool, 
 with her shoutin' about her throat bein' cut ! though, 
 indeed, if it was cut itself, it would n't be much 
 matther, for all the sinse I heard her spake. Throat 
 cut, indeed ! as if the whole counthry was murtherers 
 and moroders. In throth the counthry would be quite 
 (quiet) enough if they 'd let us be quite ; but it 's 
 gallin' and aggravatin' us they are at every hand's 
 turn, and puttin' the martial law on us, and callin' us 
 bad names, and abusin' our blessed religion." 
 
 " And are the people much dissatisfied at this state 
 of things ? " 
 
 " Why, I don't see how they could be plazed, sir ! 
 And sure, my heart warmed to you whin you gave 
 that dirty Scrubbs his answer to-day : 'faith, he got 
 his fairin' any how from you ! he had no chance at 
 all with you, sir. Oh, when you silenced him, sure 
 it was butther to my bones ! " 
 
 " By the by, who is that person ? " said the traveller. 
 
 " He is a fellow that lives not far from this, sir;- 
 they call him the Collecthor." 
 
 " Collector of what ? " 
 
5 8 Rory O'More 
 
 " Of every thing, 'faith. He collects tithes for the 
 parson, and rints for the agint, and taxes and cess, 
 and all to that ; and so he goes by the name of the 
 Collecthor." 
 
 " He 's not an Irishman ? " 
 
 11 No, thank God, he 's not ! Though, indeed, 
 there 's some of the Irish bad enough to their own or 
 worse than sthrangers maybe ; but I say, thank God, 
 bekaze there 's one blackguard the less belongs to us." 
 
 " Has he been long here ? " 
 
 " Not to say very long indeed, considherin' all he 
 has done for himself in the time. I remember, whin 
 he came among us first, it was with some horses a 
 sort of low stable-helper, a kind of a hanger-on about 
 some officers that was in the town, and thin he was 
 badly off enough. He had n't as much clothes on him 
 as would scour a spit ; and his flesh, the little he had 
 of it, hangin' about him as if it did n't fit him. But 
 he wint to church the first Sunday he was here, and, 
 as Prodestants is scarce, he was welkim to the parson ; 
 and so that he might not disgrace the congregation, the 
 parson gev him some dacent clothes : and thin he got 
 him to do odd jobs for him, one way or another; and 
 so he made himself plazin' somehow to the parson, 
 and got on one step afther another. And the parson 
 noticed him to the squire, and thin this squire gave 
 him a lift, for he it was got him to be collecthor ; and 
 now he has a mighty snug house, and a nate farm 
 nigh hand to the parson, though the first place he 
 slep' in, not along ago, whin he came to the town 
 beyant, was in the hayloft of the inn, for they 
 would n't dirty the barrack-stables with him." 
 
 " Then the parson is his patron ? " 
 
 " Not only the parson, but the magisthrits about 
 the place as well, for they know that Squire Ransford 
 notices him." 
 
Rory O'More 59 
 
 " How did he get into the squire's good graces ? " 
 
 41 There was a cast-off lady of the squire's that was 
 throublesome to him, and so he gev some soft dis- 
 course, and hard cash too, I b'lieve, to Scrubbs, to 
 make an honest woman of her, and take her off his 
 hands ; and so he did , and now you '11 see her goin' 
 in her jantin' car, if you plaze, along wid that mane- 
 spirited dog that tuk another man's lavings, marchin' 
 into church every Sunday as bowld as brass, and wid 
 as many ribands on her as would set up a thravellin' 
 pedlar." 
 
 " And what does the parson say to all this ? Does 
 he countenance the affair ? " 
 
 " Arrah, what can he do, sir ? " said Rory. " Sure, 
 he can't help if she was unproper ; and is n't it better 
 she 'd go to her duty than stay away, bad as she is ? 
 And sure, if she was a sinner, that 's the greater the 
 raison why he 'd be glad to help her in mendin' her 
 ways ; and sure, as she has n't the luck to be a 
 Roman, it 's well for her she 's even a Prodestant ! " 
 
 " That 's a very charitable view of the matter on 
 your part," said the traveller. 
 
 " Oh, by dad, sir ! you must n't be too hard on the 
 parson, for he 's a dacent man enough. If all the 
 Prodestants was as quite (quiet) as him, we 'd never 
 fall out wid thim, for he 's a nice aisy man, and is 
 good friends wid Father Kinshela, and both o' thim 
 dines together wid the squire whin he's here. And 
 you know, sir, that 's hearty ! " 
 
 " Very, indeed," said the traveller. " I 'm glad to 
 hear it." 
 
 "Scrubbs himself is a' nasty fellow ; and his lady is 
 a dab, and nothin' else : but sure the parson can't help 
 that, and I would n't expect of him to be too particular 
 on thim, for sure he must be glad to get a Prodestant 
 at all in his church, where they are so scarce. 
 
60 Rory O'More 
 
 Throth, it must be cowld work there, in a big ramblin' 
 church in the winther, wid so few in it, to be sayin' 
 prayers ! " 
 
 " You seem to like the parson, I think ? " said the 
 traveller. 
 
 " Oh, I don't mislike him, sir, for he 's civil- 
 spoken, and a hearty man, and he likes huntin' and 
 shootin', and divarshin of all sorts." 
 
 " But do you think that becoming in a clergyman ? " 
 
 " Oh, you 're too hard on the clargy, sir; why 
 wouldn't they be merry? sure Father Kinshela 
 himself sometimes takes a dart afther the dogs, whin 
 the squire is down here, as well as the parson." 
 
 u Squire Ransford, then, lives here a good deal ? " 
 
 " Not a good dale, sir, only by times whin he 
 comes down to take a start huntin' or shootin', and 
 thin he brings down a power o' company wid him ; 
 but unless at that time, the place is like a wildherness, 
 only an ould woman and a couple o' maids to mind 
 the house, and a stable-helper left, or somethin' that 
 way, to watch the place." 
 
 " A single stable-helper ! Did n't you tell me he 
 keeps a pack of hounds ? " 
 
 " Yis, sir ; but he does n't keep up the dogs unless 
 whin he 's here himself." 
 
 " How does he manage, then ? " 
 
 "Why, he gives one couple o' dogs to one tenant, 
 and another couple to another, and so on in that way, 
 while he is n't in the place ; and whin he comes back, 
 he gathers thim in again ; and so he is n't at the 
 expense of keepin' up the kennel while he 's away." 
 
 " What a shabby fellow," said the traveller. 
 
 " Oh ! not to say shabby, sir." 
 
 " Why, what else can you call quartering his dogs 
 on his poor, tenantry ? " 
 
 " Oh, for all that he 's not shabby j for whin ht 
 
Rory O'More 61 
 
 is down here, the company is never out of his house; 
 and they say there 's lashings and lavings of every 
 thing in it, and the claret flyin' about the place as 
 common as beer, and no stint to any one, I 'm 
 towld." 
 
 " That 's mere wastefulness and rioting, and can- 
 not in my opinion redeem his shabbiness, tor I cannot 
 call it any thing else. Can he not feel that when the 
 poor people feed his sporting-dogs, the fruit of their 
 labour is invaded to contribute to his pleasure ? " 
 
 " Why, if you go the rights o' the thing, what your 
 honour says is thrue enough ; but we would n't be too 
 sharp in looking at what a gintleman would do, and, 
 indeed, I don't mislike it myself, as far as that goes, 
 for the couple o' dogs that is left with me I do have 
 a great deal of fun with." 
 
 How ? " 
 
 " Huntin' rabbits, sir." 
 
 " They must be nice dogs after that ! " 
 
 u Divil a harm it does thim ! sure it comes nath'- 
 ral to the craythurs, and would be cruel to stint them 
 of their divarshin." 
 
 " And do you all hunt rabbits with the dogs left to 
 your care ? " 
 
 " Every one of us." 
 
 "Then the pack can't be worth a farthing." 
 
 " Why, indeed, I don't deny they run a little wild 
 now and thin ; but sure what would be the use of a 
 whipper-in if the dogs worn't a little fractious ? " 
 
 Rory continued his discourse with the stranger as 
 they proceeded on their road, giving him various in- 
 formation respecting the squire, and the collector, and 
 the parson, in all of which, though Rory did not so 
 intend it, his hearer found deep cause of disapproval 
 of their conduct. Their conversation was now inter- 
 rupted by the deep baying of dogs ; and Rory answered 
 
62 Rory 'More 
 
 ihe sound by a cheering whoop, and the calling of the 
 dogs by their names. 
 
 " There they are, sir ! " said he ; " you see we 're 
 jist at home." 
 
 As he spoke they turned into the little boreen already 
 noticed, and two hounds came rushing wildly up the 
 lane and jumped upon Rory with all the testimonials 
 of canine recognition. 
 
 "Down, Rattler, you divil, down! you'll tear 
 the coat av my back. Murther ! Sweetlips, don't be 
 kissin' me down, you brutes ! " And he drove the 
 animals from him, whose furious caresses were more 
 than agreeable. " Poor things ! " said he to the 
 stranger in a kindly tone, " sure, thin, it 's pleasant 
 even to have a dog to welkim one home." 
 
 " More than a dog, Rory dear," said a sweet voice 
 from amid the darkness ; and the next instant a girl 
 ran up to Rory,. and throwing her arms round his 
 neck, kissed him over and over again. He returned 
 her embrace with affection, and said, " How is the 
 mother ? " 
 
 " Hearty, thank God," said the girl. 
 
 41 And yourself, Mary dear ? " 
 
 u Oh, what would ail me ? But tell me, what 
 sort of a place Is Dublin?, and how did you like 
 it ? and did you get me the riband ? " 
 
 " It 's my sisther, sir," said Rory to his guest, pay- 
 ing no attention to the numerous questions of Mary, 
 who now, for the first time observing the stranger, 
 dropped a short curtsy to him, and said in a subdued 
 voice, " Your sarvant, sir." 
 
 " Run on, Mary dear, and tell the mother we 're 
 comin' ; " said Rory, accompanying his words with a 
 significant pinch on Mary's elbow, which meant, 
 u Make the place look as dacent as possible." 
 
 Mary ran hastily forward, fully understanding 
 
Rory O'More 63 
 
 Rory's telegraphic communication ; and when the 
 travellers reached the cottage, they found the mother 
 and Mary in that peculiar state of action which in 
 the polite world is called " hurry-scurry ; " and the 
 dragging of chairs and stools, cramming of things into 
 corners, and slapping about with the ends of aprons, 
 testified their anxiety to receive so unusual a visitor 
 with proper honour. 
 
 When they entered, the widow first received her 
 son with the strongest evidence of a mother's affection, 
 kissing him tenderly ; and with the reverential appeal 
 to Heaven in which the Irish peasantry so much in- 
 dulge, she said, " God bless you, alanna, you 're wel- 
 kim home!" She then turned to the stranger, and 
 in that soft accent of her country which so well ex- 
 presses the gentlest emotions of human nature, she 
 said, in tones that would have almost conveyed her 
 meaning without words, " You 're kindly welkim, 
 sir." 
 
 The stranger expressed his thanks ; but, notwith- 
 standing the manifest commotion which his arrival 
 occasioned, he was too polite to seem to notice it, 
 and did not, as a vulgar person always does, overload 
 the people with requests not to trouble themselves on 
 his account. 
 
 He quietly took a seat ; and Rory, with instinctive 
 good breeding, took another, and continued to dis- 
 course with his guest. Now and then, to be sure, he 
 could not help casting his eyes towards his mother, 
 who was busy in all sorts of preparation, and asking, 
 " Can I help you, mother dear ? " But the answer 
 always was, 
 
 "No, alanna. Sure you 're tired afther your jour- 
 ney ; and Mary and myself will do every thing ; and 
 sure it 's glad we are to have you, and proud that the 
 gintleman is come with you, and only hopes he '11 put 
 
64 Rory O'More 
 
 up with what we can do: but sure, if the enthertain- 
 ment is poor, the welkim is hearty, any how." 
 
 The stranger assured her of his sense of her 
 kindness. 
 
 " If we knew of your comin', sir, sure we could 
 have had a couple of chickens ready ; and if the 
 gintleman would wait a bit, sure it is n't too late yet, 
 and can have a rashir and egg in the mane time." 
 
 " My dear ma'am," said the stranger, " pray don't 
 think of chickens to-night : the fact is, I 'm very 
 hungry, and I don't know a better thing than a dish 
 of rashers and eggs, which has the great advantage, 
 besides, of being got ready sooner." 
 
 Rashers and eggs were accordingly got ready im- 
 mediately ; and while the mother was engaged in the 
 culinary department, Mary spread a coarse but white 
 cloth upon the table, and taking down from a cleanly- 
 scoured dresser some plates of coarse delf, arranged 
 the table for the supper. This the hungry travellers 
 discussed with good appetite and much relish ; and 
 after many relays of the savoury viands had vanished 
 rapidly before them, a black bottle of whiskey was 
 produced, and some hot punch being made, Rory's 
 guest protested he had eaten one of the best suppers 
 he ever made in his life. 
 
 Rory and his mother and sister were lavish in their 
 compliments to the stranger on being so easily pleased, 
 and uttered a profusion of wishes that they had better 
 to offer. This by their guest was pronounced impos- 
 sible ; and when at last the stranger retired to bed, 
 they parted for the night with the highest opinion of 
 each other, he in admiration of their hospitality, 
 and they of his condescension. 
 
 Rory then, with his mother and sister, drew round 
 the fire, and, relieved from the presence of a stranger, 
 indulged in that affectionate family gossip which 
 
Rory O'More 65 
 
 always is the result when one of the circle has re- 
 turned from a temporary absence. Rory sat on a 
 chair in the middle, his sister on a low stool beside 
 him, with one hand resting on his knee, and her 
 pretty eyes raised to his, in open wonder, only to be 
 exceeded by the more open wonder of her mouth, as 
 Rory told something of what he had seen in Dublin. 
 The widow, on the other side, seated in a low easy 
 chair of platted straw, looked upon her son with 
 manifest pleasure ; and while she led Rory into a 
 digression, by asking him how he managed " the little 
 business " about the lease, Mary filled up the interval 
 very agreeably by looking with ecstasy at the roll of 
 riband which her brother brought her. This was a 
 great delight to Mary : it was no pedlar's trash, 
 no common thing bought at a booth in a fair, but 
 a real downright metropolitan riband, " brought all the 
 way from Dublin to herself." Was n't she happy ? 
 And maybe she did n't think how she 'd astonish 
 them next Sunday at chapel ! 
 
 Rory told them how he met the stranger he 
 brought home, and of the accident which led to it, 
 and praised him to the skies for his liberality and 
 gentlemanly conduct, swore he was of the right 
 sort, and said, he was one for whom a poor man ought 
 to lay down his life. Such was Rory's opinion of 
 the stranger he had met, and who was introduced to 
 the reader in the first chapter under the title of the 
 " Scholar." How he acquired this title will be sub- 
 sequently seen. 
 
 The trio talked on until the embers on the hearth 
 were quite burnt out, and it was at an advanced hour 
 in the morning that they separated and retired to their 
 slumbers, which were sound, because their lives weie 
 healthful and innocent. 
 
 VOL. L 5 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 WHISKY VERSUS SMALL-POX. GHIBBERISH VERSUS 
 
 FRENCH. A SECRET WITH TWO HANDLES TO 
 
 IT, WHICH OUR HERO AND HIS SISTER LAY 
 HOLD OF 
 
 THE next morning the Widow O'More and her 
 son and daughter arose refreshed and light- 
 hearted, but not so their guest : he awoke with the 
 burning thirst, intense headache, and deadening sen- 
 sation of sickness, which are the precursors of fever. 
 It was early, and from the silence that reigned in the 
 cottage he concluded no one had yet riserr. He 
 endeavoured to sleep, but the effort was vain : he fell 
 but into a confused dozing, filled with broken images, 
 confused recollections, and wild imaginings, from 
 which he started but with an increased sensation of 
 illness upon him ; and even when the inhabitants of 
 the cottage rose they came not near him, wishing to 
 leave him undisturbed after his fatigue. At length, 
 on his hearing Rory's voice, he exerted his so as to 
 make himself heard ; and when Rory entered, he per- 
 ceived, from the heavy eye and altered countenance 
 of the stranger, that he was unwell. 
 
 t w God be good to us ! what 's the matther with 
 you, sir ? " said Rory. 
 
 " I 'm ill, very ill, O'More," said the stranger 
 languidly. 
 
 " Well, don' disturb yourself, sir, and you '11 be 
 betther by and by, plaze God ! " 
 
Rory O'More 67 
 
 " I 'm afraid I Ve caught the small-pox," said the 
 stranger. 
 
 u I hope not, sir : don't be thinkin' o' sich things. 
 Sure, how would you get the small-pox ? " 
 
 " From a beggar in the crowd here last night, when 
 we alighted at the inn. I remember shuddering at 
 the mention of the disease when she spoke of it ; and 
 I fear I am infected with what I dread more than 
 any thing under the sun." l 
 
 " I had betther bring my mother to you, sir," said 
 Rory, " for she is very knowledgeable in sickness, 
 and undherstands the aribs " (herbs) ; and with these 
 words he left the room, leaving the poor sick stranger 
 utterly at a loss to know what her knowledge of the 
 Arabs, as he took Rory's word to be, could have to do 
 with his illness. 
 
 When Rory returned with his mother, she asked 
 the stranger (for so we shall yet continue to call him) 
 how he felt. He told in what manner he was suffer- 
 ing,, and she replied by proposing to him to take a 
 glass of whisky. The very name of the thing pro- 
 duced nausea to the sick man, who refused the offer 
 with a shudder. 
 
 "See how you thrimble, sir!" said she. "In- 
 deed, if you b'lieve me, a good big dhrop o' whiskey 
 is the best thing you could take." 
 
 " Don't mention it, I beg of you. I fear it is the 
 small-pox I have caught." 
 
 " Plaze God, I hope not ! " said the widow : " but 
 if it is, not a finer thing in the world than a dhrop of 
 whisky to dhrive it out from your heart." 
 
 Thus she continued to urge the taking of ardent 
 spirits, which, to this hour, in the commencement of 
 
 1 He must have caught the disease earlier, as the infection of 
 small-pox does not exhibit itself so soon ; young gentlemen 
 are not expected to be too learned in such matters. 
 
68 Rory 0' More 
 
 every sickness amongst the Irish peasantry, is con- 
 sidered the one thing needful, and for the reason the 
 widow assigned in this case, namely, to " dhrive it out 
 from the heart." The heart is by them considered 
 the vulnerable point in sickness as well as in love ; so 
 much so indeed, that no matter what disease they 
 labour under, it is always called an " impression on 
 the heart." So well understood does this seem to be 
 amongst them, that even the part affected is not 
 necessary to be named, and the word " heart " is 
 omitted altogether ; and if you ask " What 's the 
 matter with such-a-one ? " the answer is sure to be, 
 " He 's got an impression." 
 
 " Mrs. O'More," said the stranger, " I am certain 
 it is the small-pox ; and while I may yet be moved, 
 pray let me be conveyed to the neighbouring town, to 
 the inn, and let not your house be visited with the 
 disease and the contagion." 
 
 " Oh, God forbid that I 'd do the like, sir, and 
 turn the sick sthranger outside my doors whin it 's 
 most he wanted the caring for and in an inn too ! 
 Oh, what would become of you at all in sich a place, 
 where I would n't have a sick dog, much less a gintle- 
 man, behowldin' to ! Make yourself aisy, sir ; and 
 if it 's as bad as you think, we '11 take care o' you, 
 niver fear." 
 
 " I don't fear," said the stranger, affected by the 
 widow's kindness ; " but it is not right that you 
 should have this horrid disease under your roof, and 
 all for a stranger." 
 
 41 Keep your mind aisy, dear, do ! " said the widow, 
 
 " sure we 're all poor craythers, God help us ! 
 and if we did not help one another in our want and 
 throuble, it 's the dark and blake world it would be ! 
 
 and what would we be Chrishthans for at all, if we 
 had n't charity in our hearts ? I beg your pardon, sir, 
 
Rory O'More 69 
 
 for sayin' charity to a gintleman but sure it 's 
 not charity I mane at all, only tindherness and 
 compassion. And as for the sickness being undher 
 our roof, my childher, God be praised ! is over the 
 small-pox iv it be it and had it light, as well 
 as myself: so make your mind aisy, dear, and dhrive 
 t out from your heart with the whiskey. Well, well! 
 don't shake your poor head that way ; I won't ax you 
 to take it till you like it yourself: but whin there is 
 an impression, there 's nothin' like dhrivin' it out. 
 So I '11 lave you, sir, for a while and see if you can 
 sleep ; and I '11 come in again by and by ; and if you 
 want any thing in the mane time, you can jist thump 
 on the flure with the chair I have put it convay- 
 nient to your hand : and the sooner you can bring 
 yourself to take the sper'ts, the betther. Well, well ! 
 I '11 say no more only it 's the finest thing in the 
 world, with a clove o' garlic, for worms or fayver, to 
 throw out the venom." And so, muttering praises 
 on her favourite panacea, she left the room. 
 
 The illness of the stranger increased during the 
 day, and in the evening he began to speak incohe- 
 rently. The Widow O'More now thought it probably 
 was the small-pox with which her guest was visited, 
 and began to take the most approved measures that 
 were in those days established for the cure of that 
 terrible disease ; that is to say, she stopped every 
 crevice of the room whereby air could be admitted, 
 opened the door as seldom as possible, and heaped all 
 the clothes she could on the patient, and gave him 
 hot drinks to allay the raging thirst that consumed 
 him. Not content with heaping bed-clothes over the 
 unhappy sufferer, she got a red cloth cloak and 
 wrapped it tightly round his body ; it being in those 
 days considered that a wrapper of red cloth was of 
 great virtue. 
 
70 Rory 0' More 
 
 Let the reader, then, imagine the wretched plight 
 the poor stranger was reduced to, and what chance 
 of recovery he had from such treatment. The fever 
 increased fearfully, and he soon became quite delirious. 
 During his ravings he imagined the bed in which he 
 lay to be a tent ; for, with national hospitality, he had 
 been placed in the best bed in the house, with the 
 flaring calico curtains before mentioned. 
 
 " Why is this tent square ? " said he. 
 
 41 Whisht, whisht, dear," said the widow soothingly. 
 
 u But why is it square ? And look here," said he, 
 seizing the curtain, " why is not this white ? why 
 is my tent red ? or is it the blood of the enemy 
 upon it ? " 
 
 " God help the crayther ! " said the widow. 
 
 Rory now entered the room ; and the stranger 
 started up in the bed and said, " hti vive ? " 
 
 " Sir ? " said Rory, rather astonished. 
 
 " Ah ! c'est mon caporal" pursued the sick man. 
 44 Caporal^ nous avons vaincu les Anglais ! voila leur 
 sang ; " and he shook the curtains fiercely. 
 
 44 Humour him, dear," said the widow to Rory ; 
 44 the crayther 's ravin': purtend you know all about it 
 that 's the best way to soother him." 
 
 44 Sure I dunna what he 's sayin' he 's muttherin' 
 ghibberish there." 
 
 44 Well, do you mutther ghibberish too," said the 
 widow, and left the room. 
 
 44 Repondez vite, caporal" said the invalid. 
 
 44 Hullabaloo ! " shouted Rory. 
 
 44 ghi'est-ce que c'est ? " 
 
 44 Hullabaloo ! " cried Rory again. 
 
 44 Vous etes etranger" said the poor sufferer ; 
 44 tremblez ! esclave, tremblez ! rende z-vous ! " and he 
 jumped up in bed 4C rendez au drapeau tricolor ! " 
 
 44 A dhrop o' what ? " said Rory. 
 
Rory O'More 71 
 
 " Five le drapeau tricolor f " cried De Lacy. 
 
 Rory left the room, and told his mother he believed 
 " the poor gintleman was callin' for a dbrop o' some- 
 thing." She entered with more hot drink, and asked 
 the sick man to swallow ; " It 'ill do you good, 
 dear," said she. 
 
 u Is there any thing you 'd like betther, sir ? " said 
 Rory ; " and if it 's to be had I '11 get it for you." 
 
 The stranger seemed to be recalled from his 
 raving a moment by the sounds of another language 
 upon his ears ; and looking wildly again at Rory and 
 his mother, and the bed, he said, " This is not my 
 tent who are you ? where am I ? " and he 
 flung the bed-clothes down from him; then seeing 
 the red cloak wrapped round him, he said fiercely, 
 " Take this accursed cloth from off me, I'm no 
 slave of the English tyrants ; where 's my blue 
 uniform ? " 
 
 " Lie down, dear, lie down," said the widow. 
 
 " Never ! " said the sick man, " we '11 never lie 
 down under tyranny ! " and he attempted to jump 
 from the bed. 
 
 " Rory dear, howld him," said the widow, 
 " howld him, or he '11 be out ; and if he catches 
 cowld, he's lost." 
 
 Rory now by force held down the sufferer, who 
 struggled violently for a while, but, becoming ex- 
 hausted, sank back on the bed and groaned 'aloud. 
 " Ah ! I see what my fate is, I 'm a prisoner in the 
 hands of the accursed English ! " 
 
 For some time he now lay quieter, and Mary was 
 left to watch in his chamber while Rory was absent 
 for some drugs his mother sent him for to the neigh- 
 bouring village. During her sojourn in the room, 
 Mary often heard the stranger lamenting his fate in 
 a plaintive tone, and calling on a female name in 
 
72 Rory O'More 
 
 passionate accents. In this state for some days the 
 patient continued -, his paroxysms of raving being 
 but varieties of lamenting his fate as a prisoner, call- 
 ing for his blue uniform, and invoking a female name. 
 From the nature of all this raving, Rory and Mary 
 drew each their own conclusions. Rory, from his 
 knowledge of the stranger's bearing and opinions 
 before he fell sick, and from the tone of his subse- 
 quent delirium, suspected he was an officer in the 
 French army ; and Mary, from his frequent calling 
 on a female name, had no doubt he was in love. 
 Now, to the end of time, Mary could never have 
 guessed at the stranger's profession, nor Rory at the 
 state of his heart : but these are the delicate shades 
 of difference that exist between the mind of man and 
 woman. The sympathies of the former are alive to 
 turmoil and strife ; those of the latter, to the gentle 
 workings of our nature : the finer feelings of a wo- 
 man vibrate with magic quickness to the smallest 
 indications of affection ; while man, like the war-horse 
 of the Psalmist, " smelleth the battle afar off." 
 
 Both Rory and Mary were right in their conclu- 
 sions : the sick stranger was an officer in the French 
 service, and also was in love. 
 
 With respect to the love affair, the tangled busi- 
 ness may go tangling on, as the more tangled such 
 affairs become the better; but of the stranger's name 
 and purposes it is time the reader should be informed. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 IN WHICH A GENTLEMAN WRITES A LETTER AS 
 LONG AS A LADY'S 
 
 HORACE DE LACY was the stranger's name. 
 Descended from the noble race of De Lacy, 
 one of the original conquerors of Ireland, he inherited 
 all the fire and courage of his ancestors ; but now, 
 the descendant of the enslaver became the champion 
 of liberty, and panted with as burning a zeal for the 
 regeneration of his country as his ancestors had done 
 for her subjugation, for Ireland was now his native 
 land, and the remark so often made in the chronicles 
 of England, that the descendants of English settlers 
 in Ireland became more fierce in their rebellion than 
 the natives themselves, was about to be once more 
 verified in the person of Horace De Lacy. 
 
 Though an Irishman by birth, he had for some 
 years been resident in France. There he imbibed 
 all the fierce enthusiasm to which the epoch of the 
 French revolution gave birth, and the aspirations for 
 universal liberty which fired his young heart were 
 first directed to his native land. As early as 1794, 
 communications were carried forward between the 
 disaffected in Ireland and the French executive : and 
 Doctor Jackson, one of the agents at that period, 
 was discovered, and would have been hanged, but 
 that he escaped the ignominious death by swallowing 
 poison in the dock, where he died in the face of his 
 
74 Rory O'More 
 
 accusers and his judges. The death of Jackson pro- 
 duced a great sensation in Ireland. It made the 
 rapacious and intolerant faction that then ruled the 
 country, more insolent ; and those who cursed their 
 rule and endeavoured to overthrow it, more cautious. 
 
 The result was fearful. Wrong was heaped upon 
 wrong by the oppressor ; suffered in hopelessness, 
 but remembered, by the oppressed. Each new aggres- 
 sion on the one side produced a debt of hatred on the 
 other, and the account was carried on with compound 
 interest. 
 
 In 1797, another communication was opened be- 
 tween the disaffected in Ireland and the executive of 
 the French government, and De Lacy was one of 
 the agents. He was an officer in the French army, 
 and volunteered to undertake the dangerous duty of 
 visiting Ireland and England, with a view of ascer- 
 taining the probable likelihood of success in a revolu- 
 tionary movement in the one country, and the state 
 of feeling as regarded a desire of revolution in the other. 
 
 In France, at that period, it is singular the total 
 ignorance that existed with relation to the state of the 
 united dominions of Great Britain. Repeatedly as 
 they had been assured of the certainty of co-operation 
 in a descent upon Ireland, and the futility of any such 
 attempt upon England, nevertheless the absurd scheme 
 was entertained of letting loose some French despera- 
 does in England, and carrying on a system of Chouan- 
 nerte in that country. 
 
 The most active and intelligent of the Irish emis- 
 saries, Theobald Wolfe Tone, then resident at Paris, 
 had repeatedly assured the French executive that such 
 a plan was worse than hopeless, but still they were 
 not convinced; and General Clarke, then minister of 
 war, because he bore an Irish name, and was of Irish 
 descent, thinking he must know something of the 
 
Rory O'More 75 
 
 matter, though he never had set foot in the country, 
 helped to strengthen them in this belief, and notwith- 
 standing all the assurances and arguments of Tone, 
 Clarke would not be satisfied of the truth of such 
 statements without having an emissary of his own to 
 visit the country and report upon it. 
 
 De Lacy was the person who volunteered this ser- 
 vice ; and, crossing the Channel in the boat of a 
 smuggler, who knew the coast well, and was in con- 
 stant habit of communication with both England and 
 Ireland, but particularly the latter, he had been 
 for some time in London and through the English 
 provinces before he visited Ireland. There he had 
 but recently arrived when Rory O'More met him 
 as a travelling companion ; and of the events of his 
 journey since, the reader is in possession. 
 
 What impressions his observations in England pro- 
 duced may be seen by the following letter, which was 
 forwarded to France by a sailor on board a vessel 
 which traded between Dublin and France, under 
 Swedish colours, and under the particular patronage of 
 
 Lord , then high in the government of Ireland, 
 
 and the most vindictive enemy of the liberal party. 
 
 It may be asked, why did Lord permit, much 
 
 less patronise, this proceeding ? It was because the 
 vessel was chartered by a certain merchant to whom 
 he was indebted in large loans of money ; and the 
 accommodation thus afforded was partly paid by the 
 exclusive permission of trading with France thus 
 
 granted by Lord , whose influence in Ireland 
 
 was then so paramount, that a word from him was 
 sufficient to guarantee the safety of his friend's ship, 
 by the willing blindness of the commissioners of 
 customs, ' who always treated this make-believe 
 Swedish vessel with the most exemplary indulgence. 
 Certain intelligence from France, too, was procured 
 
76 Rory O'More 
 
 in this way: but while the noble lord and his party 
 thus obtained information, they little dreamed that 
 the same channel was used for the transmission of 
 intelligence between their enemies. 
 
 In the packet of information that follows, the 
 reader must not be startled at its high-sounding style : 
 the tone of the period was extravagant, particularly 
 in France ; and De Lacy was of that age and of that 
 profession which delights in flourishes whether of 
 trumpets or words. The packet was addressed to a 
 certain "Citizen Madgett " at Paris, well known in 
 those days to the Irish republican party, and to whom 
 General Clarke had desired De Lacy's communica' 
 tions to be made. Its contents ran thus : 
 
 " You know with what feelings I left France. 1 
 rejoiced there, in common with my fellows, in the 
 triumph that right had achieved over wrong ; in the 
 majesty of human nature overcoming the kings that 
 would have enslaved her ; in the brilliant era of 
 retribution and resuscitation that more than redeemed 
 the tyranny and suffering that gave it birth. You 
 know how I hoped, in the warmth of my head and 
 heart, that the rest of mankind should share in the 
 blessings we had so dearly purchased with our blood, 
 and that man, freed from the thraldom of ages, should 
 form but one family ; that the prejudices and distinc- 
 tions of countries should be forgotten, and regenerated 
 mankind, as one nation, kneel, Peruvian-like, to the 
 newly-risen sun of their freedom. 
 
 " But this glorious dream has been disturbed since 
 I left you. I visited England with the view of 
 kindling on a thousand altars the fire of liberty that I 
 bore with me from liberty's own temple : but the 
 moral as well as the natural atmosphere of England is 
 damp and chilly, compared with the country of the 
 
Ro'ry O'More 77 
 
 vine, and I found myself a disappointed enthusiast, 
 with few or none to share in my raptures. My 
 hymn of liberty was not half so cheering to me as 
 the clank of John Bull's chains to his own ears (and 
 long enough they are) ; and a priest of liberty, like 
 any other priest, cuts a very contemptible figure with- 
 out a congregation. 
 
 " So, after some little time, seeing the state of 
 affairs stand thus, I began to look about me with 
 more observation. 4 Perhaps,' said I to myself, 4 John 
 Bull is like his own flint-stones, with fire enough in 
 him, only you must strike him hard ; ' and so I laid 
 myself out for observation, and was on the alert for 
 every grievance. 
 
 " I was baffled in making any great advances 
 towards my object, and after some time fruitlessly 
 spent, it struck me that the capital city of a kingdom 
 is not the place to judge of the real state of a country, 
 or measure the feelings of the people. c Here,' said 
 I, 4 in London, where peers have their palaces, and 
 merchants their mansions : where wasteful wealth 
 and lavish luxury deprave the whole community, and 
 blinding the citizen to the real state of things, make 
 him believe, because he is a sharer in the plunder they 
 are wasting, that he is a gainer by their extravagance ; 
 here is not the place to hope for the altar of free- 
 dom, and the rights of regenerated man to be respected. 
 The Londoner will endure the abuses of his time be- 
 cause he enjoys from* them a temporary benefit, and 
 even upholds the very tyranny of which he himself 
 will be the last to suffer. But to be the last in suf- 
 fering is considered a wondrous gain in our contempt- 
 ible natures. How like men are to children in such 
 matters ! I remember, at school, how the timid 
 boys hung back from a cup of medicine, or the cold- 
 bath, or punishment, and the wretch who was last 
 
78 Rory O'More 
 
 drenched with rhubarb, shoved into the river, or 
 flogged, thought himself a clever fellow, and enjoyed 
 a sort of per centage on the suffering that had gone 
 before him. So is it,' thought 1, 4 with the Londoner : 
 but I will go into the country, and there, in the in- 
 terior of England, observe the canker that is at her 
 heart ; and while I observe the disease, I will incul- 
 cate the remedy.' 
 
 11 With this view I quitted the capital and visited 
 a village. The lord of the soil (one of the magnifi- 
 cent English baronets) I knew was in the capital at 
 the time, and from his neglected and forsaken tenantry 
 I might hope to hear the murmurs of dissatisfaction 
 and the desire of redress. But in this I was dis- 
 appointed. I wished to see what extent of domain 
 the aristocrat appropriated to his own enjoyment 
 (when he was at home), and walked towards ' the 
 Honor,' as it is called, in expectation of seeing the 
 shutters closed, and grass growing through the ave- 
 nues. I leaped a fence, and proceeded through a rich 
 field and a piece of beautiful plantation, until I was 
 accosted by a well-dressed peasant, who asked me, 
 somewhat sturdily, what brought me there. I told 
 him I was going to look over the grounds and see the 
 house. He asked me, had I got leave, and how did 
 I get in ? On telling him how, he said that crossing 
 the fence was not permitted, and suggested my going 
 back. I said, if the family were at home, I would 
 not have taken the liberty to "intrude ; but in their 
 absence there could be no offence. c Sir Richard is 
 quite as particular when he is away,' was the answer. 
 * Is he so very churlish,' said I, c as to object to a 
 gentleman crossing his domain when he is away, and 
 when his privacy cannot be invaded ? ' l Oh, whether 
 he 's here or not, is no odds,' replied the man ; * for 
 strangers running in and out of the park would spoil 
 
Rory O'More 79 
 
 it just as much, whether Sir Richard be here or no.' 
 4 Then he keeps up his park at all times?' said I. 
 4 To be sure, sir, he do,' said the man, looking at me 
 as if he did not know whether I was a rogue or a 
 simpleton. 'And may I not be permitted to walk 
 through the park?' 'Why, sir, if you get leave of 
 Mr. Lowndes, or Mr. Banks, or the steward, or the 
 
 agent, or ' And on he went, telling me how 
 
 many people could give me leave, till I interrupted 
 him by saying, c Why, you have a large establishment 
 here.' l Oh, yes, sir,' said he; 'it's all the same, 
 like, whether Sir Richard be here or no except that 
 there 's not the company at the house.' ' And who 
 may you be ? ' I inquired. 'One of the keepers, sir.' 
 4 Well,' said I, ' as I have not time to ask any of the 
 people you have named, perhaps you would be so 
 obliging,' and all the time I kept a telegraphic 
 fumbling of my right hand in my waistcoat pocket, 
 
 'you would be so obliging as to show me up to 
 the house,' and as I finished my query, I slided a 
 half-crown backwards and forwards between my fore- 
 finger and thumb. ' Why, sir,' said the keeper, ' as I 
 sees you 're a gen'lman,' and he looked, not at me, 
 but at the half-crown, 'I cawn't see no objections;' 
 and a transfer of my money and his civility at once 
 was effected. 
 
 " My guide led me through a splendid park towards 
 the house : no grass growing through the walks, as I 
 anticipated, but beautifully kept, as if the lord of 
 the soil were present. We reached the house: no 
 closed shutters, but half-open windows, and the cur- 
 tains from within, caught by the breeze, peeping out 
 to visit the roses that were peeping in to meet them 
 
 a sort of flirtation between the elegancies of the 
 interior and exterior. 
 
 u On entering the house, I found myself in a 
 
8o Rory O'More 
 
 square nail, lined throughout with oak. The ceiling 
 was low and divided by richly-carved octagonal frame- 
 work into compartments ; the polished floor was also 
 inlaid after the same pattern, and the wainscot elab- 
 orately panelled and covered with curious carving. 
 Old suits of armour, cross-bows, bills, partisans, two- 
 handed swords, and other weapons, were distributed 
 around the apartment; and an enormous blood-hound 
 lay stretched upon the floor, basking in the sun, and 
 seemed a suitable tenant of this domestic armoury. 
 I strolled through room after room, and an air of 
 habitual wealth prevailed throughout. 
 
 " There was an old library, with pieces of buhl 
 furniture, and old ebony seats and chairs, with large 
 down cushions, where one might luxuriate in learn- 
 ing. And this delightful old room looked out on an 
 antique-looking garden, whose closely-cut grass-plots 
 were like velvets, and divided by high hedge-rows of 
 yew, cropt as smooth as a wall. Then a large cedar 
 spread his dusky branches so close to the windows 
 as to exclude some portion of the light, and produce 
 that demi-jour so suitable to a place of study. There 
 were pictures throughout the house, principally por- 
 traits, of which the English are so fond some of 
 them very good, sufficiently so to be valuable as 
 works of art. Holbein and Vandyke had immortal- 
 ised some of the former owners of the Honor ; and 
 there they hung in goodly succession, holding a place 
 on the walls of the chateau they had successively 
 been masters of. The seal of Time was on all this 
 evidence; here from sire to son had plenty been 
 transmitted, and wealth and comfort were hereditary. 
 There was, withal, such an air of peace and tranquil- 
 lity about the old place, that it was quite soothing : 
 you could hear through the open casements the rust- 
 ling of the flowers in the garden, as the warm breeze 
 
Rory O'More 81 
 
 whispered through them and wafted their fragrance 
 into the library. Could one, at such a moment, 
 think hopefully of revolution ? where so much 
 comfort existed, there also would exist the love of 
 repose. I confess I was overcome by the influence 
 of all I had seen, and convinced that Tone is quite 
 right. On quitting the Honor, however, I con- 
 sidered that though the aristocracy might revel in 
 such enjoyments as these, the great mass of the 
 people would be willing to invade a repose that was 
 purchased at the price of their labour and taxation, 
 and a system where the many were sacrificed to the 
 few. ' It is not in Allenby Honor I must look,' 
 thought I, ' but in the village.' 
 
 " Here, after days of observation, I confess I 
 think the hope of revolutionising England quite ab- 
 surd. The comforts of the people are generally 
 such, that men with less caution than the English 
 would not risk the loss of them in the hope of specu- 
 lative blessings. Their houses are well built, and so 
 beautifully clean! but not merely clean a love 
 of embellishment is to be seen : trailing plants perhaps 
 festoon their windows round a bit of trellis, a white 
 curtain peeping from within ; there is a neat paling 
 round the house, and flowers within this fence ; 
 the cultivation of flowers in the little gardens of the 
 lower orders, bespeaks a country in contentment. 
 Then the better class of dwelling, with its paved 
 walk leading up from the outer gate through ever- 
 greens, and its bright brass knocker and bell-pull, 
 and white steps, that seem as if they had been 
 washed the minute before; the windows so clean, 
 with their Venetian blinds inside and fresh paint 
 without : in short, I could not enumerate a twen- 
 tieth part of these trifling evidences that go to prove 
 the ease and prosperity of these people. 
 VOL. i b 
 
82 Rory O'More 
 
 "Their domestic arrangements keep pace with 
 this outward show. They are universally well found 
 in the essential comforts of life; they have good 
 beds, are well clothed and well fed. I saw an olA 
 fellow yesterday evening driving his water-cart to tne 
 river, and he was as fat and rosy as an alderman : the 
 cart and the water-barrel upon it were nicely painted, 
 and as the little donkey drew it along, the old fellow 
 trudged beside it, comforting himself with the sup- 
 port of a stick. Fancy a peasant with a walking- 
 stick ! do you think that fellow would turn rebel ? 
 
 never ! 
 
 "On a little green beside the village, some boys 
 were playing at cricket : they had their bats and 
 ball poverty cannot be here when peasants can 
 buy the materials of play for their children. Then 
 the children seemed so careful ! the coats and hats 
 they had taken off during their exercise were piled in 
 a heap at a distance, and when their game was fin- 
 ished, they dressed themselves with such regularity ! 
 
 and with what good clothes they were provided ! 
 "This is not the country for revolution! such 
 
 is my firm conviction. There are some in England 
 who hail with rapture the dawn of liberty, and wish 
 that its splendour may lighten all nations ; but that 
 number is comparatively small, and I cannot wonder 
 at it, after all I have seen. Believe me, there are 
 few men in England like Home Tooke. By the by, 
 I must tell you a capital thing he said the other day. 
 The conversation ran upon definitions, and some one 
 said it would be very hard to define what was treason. 
 1 Not at all,' said Home Tooke : 4 it is nothing but 
 reason with a / to it.' - - Was n't it capital ? 
 
 " To conclude, Tone is right. I repeat it, no 
 hopes can be entertained of revolutionising England. 
 
 " I go to Ireland next week; and from all I can 
 
Rory O'More 83 
 
 icarn here, matters promise better for us there. I 
 carry this letter with me to Dublin, whence I shall 
 transmit it to you by our Swedish friend. You shall 
 hear from me again, immediately that I have made 
 my observations. 
 
 " H. D. L." 
 
 Now, bating the flourishes about freedom and 
 regenerated mankind, there is much good sense and 
 shrewd observation in this letter. It will be per- 
 ceived, that however great his revolutionary enthu- 
 siasm, it did not carry him away into the folly of 
 believing in impossibilities : he saw, and said, that 
 England could not be revolutionised, for her people 
 enjoyed too many comforts to throw them away 
 in a civil war. This temperate tone is noticed to 
 the reader, to show that De Lacy was a trusty agent 
 in the cause he undertook ; that, uninfluenced by 
 his preconceived notions, and in the very teeth of 
 his wishes, he saw England was beyond the reach 
 of revolutionary influence, and pointed out the rea- 
 sons why. Let the reader mark the calm and judi- 
 cious observation of the man, for in due time another 
 letter of his will appear, describing the state of Ire- 
 land ; and the influence of that letter will be the 
 greater by remembering the foregoing one, and bear- 
 ing in mind that the same man, exercising the same 
 observation, and with the same desire to ascertain the 
 real probability of success in a revolutionary move- 
 ment, is the writer. The wishes and hopes of the 
 republican were utterly overthrown by the security 
 and prosperity of England, but he found in the 
 misery and misrule of Ireland the ready materials 
 for a country's convulsion. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 A MAN OF LAW AND PHYSIC 
 " He was a man to all the country dear ! " 
 
 DE LACY'S fever continued to rage, and his 
 raving to proceed in their usual course. Two 
 things were in his favour, his fury at the red cloth 
 obliged the Widow O'More to give up that hope of 
 recovering her patient; and all her ingenuity could 
 not induce him to take whisky, even in the most 
 diluted form. Sometimes, when the poor sufferer 
 had been calling for drink for some time, the cunning 
 prescriber would enter with a vessel of liquid con- 
 taining; a portion of the favourite medicine, and hop- 
 ing that the anxiety for any alleviation of thirst would 
 make him swallow it without examination, she would 
 say " Now, dear, here 't is for you. Dhrink it up 
 at once, dhrink it up big ! " 
 
 Poor De Lacy would seize the vessel with avidity, 
 and make a rush with open mouth upon it ; but the 
 moment the presence of whisky was apparent, he 
 would refuse it. In mere charity, at last, though 
 without any hope of doing him good, the widow 
 made him some plain two-milk whey, and this he 
 swallowed with that fierce desire for drink that the 
 thirst of fever or the Desert only knows. 
 
 Rory procured the drugs his mother ordered at the 
 village, and brought them back to her with all the 
 speed that might be. What they were it is needless 
 
Rory 'More 85 
 
 to know, and perhaps the Faculty might or might 
 not be benefited by the knowledge ; but as vaccina- 
 tion has triumphed over the terrible plague that then 
 scourged mankind, it is unnecessary to seek what 
 were the nostrums the widow employed in her medi- 
 cal capacity. 
 
 " Who do you think did I meet at M'Garry's 
 to-day, whin I wint there for the physic ? " said 
 Rory on his return. 
 
 " Arrah, who thin ? " said his mother. 
 
 "Sweeny !" 
 
 " Is it Sweeny ? " 
 
 " Divil a less ! " 
 
 " I wondher he is n't ashamed to go the place, the 
 dirty scut ! His father was a 'pottekerry, and he 
 must turn atturney ; and instead of follyin' his dacent 
 father's business before him, and attindin' to the 
 'pottekerryin', it 's the 'turneyin' he must be afther 
 bad luck to him ! and instead of doin' people 
 good, and curin' them of any thing might come over 
 thim, he 's doin' thim all the harm he can, and laving 
 them without any thing over them, not as much as 
 a blanket, much less a house. His father used to 
 cure 'ructions, 1 but he 's risin' them : and, as I said 
 before, I wondher he 's not ashamed to go into the 
 owld shop, for it ought to remind him that he might 
 be a dacent 'pottekerry, instead of a skrnuging 'turney, 
 as he is : and more betoken, the dirty little 'turney 
 to set up to be a gintleman, and for that same to 
 change his blessed and holy religion, and turn 
 prod'stant ! Oh, the little vagabone ! : 
 
 Now it will be seen the widow wound up her 
 philippic against Sweeny by placing the heaviest 
 offence the last ; " He turned prod'stant ; " this 
 was the great crime in the widow's eyes, and indeed 
 
 1 Ruction signifies a breaking out, a disturbance. 
 
86 Rory O'Mvre 
 
 in those of most of the people of her class. Sweeny 
 might have robbed all Ireland, and suffered less ir> 
 their opinion than by the fact of his going to church. 
 Poor Ireland ! the great question of a man's vice 
 or virtue, fitness or unfitness, talent or stupidity, 
 wisdom or folly, treason or loyalty, was answered 
 in those days by the fact of whether he went to 
 a protestant church or a catholic chapel. The two 
 sects disliked each other equally ; but the protestant 
 born and bred was not half so much loathed as the 
 apostate who renounced the faith of his fathers for 
 " the flesh-pots of Egypt ; " and the Roman catholics 
 were the more jealous of this defection, because they 
 never had any converts from the protestants in return, 
 and for the best reason in the world, there was 
 nothing to be made by it. 
 
 Now it was by a process of consecutive reasoning 
 that Sweeny had renounced physic and popery, and 
 assumed the attorney and ascendency. He gave up 
 the healing art because he saw his father could make 
 nothing of it. How could he ? When a population 
 is so poor as not to be able to afford the necessaries 
 of life, they cannot be expected to command the 
 remedies against death : if they cannot buy bread, 
 they will hardly buy physic. So Sweeny the younger 
 turned his attention towards the law, which is an 
 amusement that those who have something to lose 
 deal in, and therefore belongs more to the richer 
 classes, or, as they call themselves, the better 
 classes. 
 
 Now as these better (alias richer) classes in Ireland 
 were on the side of the protestants, Sweeny thought 
 that conforming to the church as by law established 
 would be a move in his favour, and accordingly he 
 (to use the words of a paragraph in one of the 
 government papers of the day) " renounced the 
 
Rory 0' More 87 
 
 errors of the church of Rome, and embraced those 
 of the church of England." 
 
 He had lived long enough with his father to pick 
 up a few words of apothecary Latin, and these he 
 mixed with a vile jargon of his own, which he im- 
 posed on people for medical knowledge ; and although 
 as ignorant as a horse in every way, he had the im- 
 pudence to enact the amateur doctor, and gave advice 
 gratis in physic to his clients in law. This dabbling 
 in doctoring permitted him to indulge in a ruling 
 propensity of his nature, which was, curiosity : while 
 he played the doctor, he could play the inquisitor ; 
 and by his joint possession of cunning and impudence, 
 it is surprising how he used to ferret out intelligence. 
 He seldom ventured on giving prescriptions of his 
 own, and to avoid this, he always recommended some 
 patent medicine, a supply of which he kept by him 
 to furnish to his friends, and he charged them a 
 handsome profit on the same. He would say, 
 
 " My dear ma'am, don't be going to that dreadful 
 M'Garry ! You '11 ruin your health your precious 
 health ! you can't depend upon his drugs at all : he 
 has n't them pure how could he, poor creature ! 
 I would give you a recipe if his drugs could be de- 
 pended upon ; but they positively cannot. Suppose 
 now, my dear ma'am, suppose your little nerves 
 got out of order, and I wished to give you something 
 of an alluviating nature, I might wish to exhibit a 
 small dose of hippopotamus, and most likely he, not 
 having the article in his cornucopia, might give you 
 vox populi. Now only fancy your swallowing vox 
 popul'i instead of hippopotamus ! There 's no knowing 
 what the consequence might be ; perhaps utter prosti- 
 tution prostitution of strength I mean : only 
 fancy ! I tell you, M'Garry is dangerous ; besides, 
 M'Garry keeps the Post-office, and how can a 
 
88 Rory 'More 
 
 man mind the post and his profession? or, as the 
 Squire most fassyetiously said the other day, ' How 
 can he be at his two posts at once ? ' Ha, ha ! 
 Very good was n't it? Capital, / think. But, to 
 be serious, M'Garry 's dangerous ; he 'd better throw 
 his physic to the dogs, as the Bard of Devon says, for 
 't is fit for no one else. You had better let me send 
 you a little box of pills, and a bottle of that thing I 
 sent you before ; they are patent medicines, and must 
 be good. You liked the last did n't you ? Tastes 
 rather strong, you say ; so much the better make you 
 strong : very nice though. It is an expensive medi- 
 cine, rather ; but what o' that in comparison to your 
 precious health ? Better than being poisoned with 
 vox populi" 
 
 Thus would this impudent and ignorant vagabond 
 talk his vile rubbish to the fools who would let him 
 send them his patent medicines, and charge them in 
 his bill. 
 
 When Sweeny saw Rory O'More getting drugs at 
 M'Garry's, he asked him who was ill. Rory, not 
 liking him, and aware of his prying nature, wished 
 for reasons of his own that he should not know for 
 whom they were intended, as he thought it possible 
 the animal might pay a visit to the cottage on the 
 plea of giving advice, and see the stranger, and what 
 would be worse, hear him raving too ; and Rory's 
 surmises as to the profession of his guest made him 
 anxious that this should not be. He accordingly 
 evaded all the questions of the medical attorney as 
 well as he could, and left him without giving him 
 any information on the subject. But this was quite 
 enough to excite Sweeny's suspicion, and set his 
 curiosity craving ; and so he rode out the next day to 
 pay Rory's home a visit, and ferret out the mystery. 
 On arriving at the house, he hung his horse's bridle- 
 
Rory O'More 89 
 
 reins over a hook near the door, and bolted into the 
 cottage at once. Rory, his mother, and sister, were 
 all there ; therefore, it was a plain case that none of 
 the family were ill. 
 
 " Good morrow, widow," said Sweeny in his 
 politest manner, "glad to see you well, ma'am, 
 and you, Mary O'More well and hearty; all 
 well, I see, glad of it. I was afraid some one was 
 sick saw Rory getting drugs yesterday just dropt 
 in as I was coming by, to see could I offer any 
 advice : who 's sick ? " 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Sweeny, I'm obleeged," said 
 the widow coldly ; " I just wanted a thrifle o' physic, 
 and so Rory wint for it : " and she' bustled about, 
 evidently having no inclination to enter into conver- 
 sation with him, and letting him see that such was 
 her intention : but Sweeny was not to be put off so. 
 
 " Can I do any thing in the way of advice, Mrs. 
 O'More ? " 
 
 " Yis, indeed, Mr. Sweeny, you can ; and I think 
 I '11 be going over to you, to ask about a little bit o' 
 law soon, for I 'm having an alteration made in my 
 lase." 
 
 " Yes, yes, certainly law business certainly 
 always ready, Mrs. O'More : but I mean in the 
 medical way, you know I 'm skilful in that way, 
 Mrs. O'More, and as there 's some one sick here, 
 if I can be of any use, I '11 be most happy most 
 happy, Mrs. O'More." 
 
 The widow saw there was no evading the attorney, 
 and so she said a traveller had been going the road, 
 and was taken ill, and they took him in and put him 
 to bed ; but " it would n't signify, plase God ! and 
 he'd be well enough in a day or two." 
 
 " If I can be of any use, I '11 see him with pleasure." 
 
 " Thank you, sir, but I gave him something my- 
 
90 Rory O'More 
 
 self that I know will do him good obleeged to you 
 all the same." 
 
 " Is he poor ? " said Sweeny. 
 
 " I never asked him that," said the widow re- 
 proachfully. 
 
 " Of course of course ; but then I mean, you 
 might guess." 
 
 " Guess ! " said Rory, who had been eyeing Sweeny 
 all this time with a sidelong glance of contempt, 
 " Guess ! why, thin tare an ouns ! do you think 
 the man 's a riddle or a conundkerum, that we 'd be 
 guessin' at him ? " 
 
 All the time this conversation was going on, 
 Sweeny kept rolling his little grey eyes about him ; 
 and at last he spied De Lacy's portmanteau, and 
 approaching it directly, and laying hold of it, he said, 
 "This is the traveller's portmanteau, I suppose ? " 
 
 "Well, and what if it is ?" said Rory. 
 
 "Oh, nothing nothing," said Sweeny, who had 
 turned it over and over to look for a name or initials; 
 but there were none : " no harm in my asking, I 
 hope ? " 
 
 " Nor no good, either," said Rory. 
 
 " Only, by this portmanteau, the traveller is a 
 gentleman, I perceive." 
 
 " Well, he 's not the worse of that," said Rory. 
 
 " Any thing I can do for the gentleman, I '11 be 
 most happy," said Sweeny, who always laid a gentle- 
 man under obligation if he could. 
 
 " Thank you, sir, but he 's very comfortable here, 
 I can tell you, and sha'n't want for any thing," said 
 the widow. 
 
 " 1 Ve no doubt of that, Mrs. O'More ; but if I 
 could see him, perhaps I might be able to give some 
 little advice. Is he in that room ? " said Sweeny, 
 pointing as he spoke. 
 
Rory 0" More 91 
 
 " He 's asleep, and must n't be disturbed," said 
 Rory. 
 
 Just at that moment De Lacy's raving took a noisy 
 turn, and he became audible to Sweeny. 
 
 " There," said Sweeny, " he 's awake, now you 
 can let me go in ; " and he was advancing to the door, 
 when Rory stepped between, and said the patient 
 should n't be disturbed, at the same time he turned 
 towards his mother, and made a grimace, as much as 
 to say, " Sweeny must not be admitted." The 
 widow grinned, and blinked her eyes, as much as to 
 say, " He shall not." " You see, Mr. Sweeny," 
 said she, " the poor gintleman 's ravin', and does n't 
 like sthrangers." 
 
 " Raving ! ho, ho ! fever dangerous, Mrs. 
 O'More, take care, take care." 
 
 u I 've taken every care, sir." 
 
 " But fever, Mrs. O'More ; have you given him 
 feverescing drinks ? " 
 
 " He has all he wants." 
 
 " You should write to his friends, and tell them ; 
 may die, you know ; I '11 write to them, if yo 
 like." 
 
 " And charge six-and-eightpence for it," said Rory 
 aside. 
 
 " Do you know his name ? " 
 
 " No," said Rory very short j " we did n't ax him 
 any impid'nt questions." 
 
 " Rory, my man, don't be unreasonable, don't 
 be in a passion ; maybe a person of consequence 
 his friends in a state of suspense. He 's raving : now 
 all you have to do is to open his valise and examine 
 his papers, and find out who he is. I '11 do it for 
 you, if you like." 
 
 Rory's rage now burst its bounds. The prying 
 impertinence of Sweeny he bore so long as it merely 
 
92 Rory 0' More 
 
 amounted to his personal annoyance ; but when he 
 made the last proposition, Rory opened upon him 
 furiously. 
 
 " Why, thin, do you take me for such a mane- 
 sperited dog, that while a sick man was on his back, 
 I 'd turn spy and thief, and brake open his portmantle 
 and hunt for his saycrets ? " 
 
 " My dear Rory" ! " 
 
 " Don't dear me ! Dear, indeed, 'faith ! it 's 
 chape you howld me, if you think I 'd do sitch a dirty 
 turn, to bethray the man undher my roof; you 
 ought to be ashamed of yourself!" 
 
 " But it 's a common practice ! " 
 
 u A common 'turney's practice maybe, or a 
 common thiePs practice." 
 
 Hillo, Rory ! " 
 
 " Oh, to the divil I pitch you and your hillo ! I 
 say, a common thiePs practice, again, to break 
 locks or cut open bags, and pimp and spy ; faugh 
 on the man would do the like ! Throth, if I thought 
 there was one dhrop o' blood in my body would con- 
 sent to it, I 'd open my veins till it was out. Oh, 
 murther, murther, to hear of sitch a scheming 
 turn ! If I done such a rogue's thrick, I 'd howld 
 myself disgraced to the end of my days, and think 
 myself only fit company for Judas." 
 
 Sweeny was dumb-foundered before the torrent of 
 Rory's honest indignation, and was about to make 
 some, shuffling reply, when Mary O'More entered 
 the cottage, she having left it a moment before, and 
 said, u Run, run, Mr. Sweeny ! there 's your horse 
 has got his head out of the bridle, and is run into the 
 field." 
 
 Now it was Mary herself who had loosened the 
 bridle from the beast, and let him escape, for the 
 purpose of getting rid of their troublesome visitor. 
 
Rory O'More 93 
 
 Sweeny cut short his discourse, and darted from the 
 house, pursuing his horse into the field, where he ar- 
 rived in time to see him rolling over in great glee, 
 much to the benefit of a new saddle. 
 
 Sweeny shouted, " murder ! " and it was some 
 time before the horse could be caught, even with 
 the assistance of Rory. When he was secured, the 
 saddle was discovered to have been split by the 
 horse's tumbles ; and when Sweeny got into his seat 
 and turned homewards, he saw Mary O'More show- 
 ing her white teeth in a most undisguised laugh at 
 the result of her trick, which Rory rejoiced in 
 equally. 
 
 After De Lacy had suffered under dangerous fever 
 for some time, the eruption made its appearance, and 
 he was soon out of danger. He had no other aid in 
 his illness than that of the widow's simple remedies, 
 which, backed by a good constitution, carried him 
 through, and now quiet and patience were all that he 
 required. 
 
 As soon as he recovered his senses, it was some 
 time before he could perfectly understand how he 
 came to be in Rory O'More's cottage ; but a few 
 words from his kind host gradually gave the key to 
 memory, and he was enabled to recall the circum- 
 stances that preceded his illness. After this he was 
 for some time silent, and then he asked what was the 
 day of the month. On being told, he knit his brow, 
 and seemed to undergo some feelings of disappoint- 
 ment, to which an expression of great anxiety suc- 
 ceeded. 
 
 " O'More," said he at last, " shut the door. 
 Come close to me ; I want to ask you a question, 
 and I charge you, as you hope for salvation, to 
 answer me truly. I know I have been out of my 
 senses, and I suppose I talked a great deal while I 
 
94 Rory O'More 
 
 was so. Now tell me honestly, did any thing remark- 
 able strike you in my raving ? " 
 
 " Yes, there did, sir," said Rory, smiling at De 
 Lacy, and looking straight into his eyes with that 
 honest look that honesty alone can give. 
 
 There was a soothing influence to De Lacy in the 
 expression of that smile and look, and a peculiar in- 
 telligence in them, that showed him Rory knew the 
 drift of his question, by having fathomed the circum- 
 stances of his situation. 
 
 " I 'm sure you guess what I am," said De Lacy. 
 
 " Shouldher arms, whoo ! " said Rory, laughing. 
 
 De Lacy smiled faintly at Rory's mode of illustrat- 
 ing his knowledge. 
 
 " You are right," said De Lacy, " and you know 
 I 'm not a soldier of King George." 
 
 Rory sang in a low tone, 
 
 " Viva la, the French is coming 
 Viva la, our friends is thrue ; 
 Viva la, the French is coming 
 What will the poor yeomen do ? " 
 
 De Lacy nodded assent, and smiled, and, after a 
 short pause, said, " You 're a sharp fellow, O'More." 
 
 u I 've been blunt enough with you, sir." 
 
 " Honest as the sun," said De Lacy. " Now tell 
 me, do the women know any thing about this ? " 
 
 u Not a taste ; they suspect you no more nor the 
 child unborn: only, Mary says " 
 
 u What ? " said De Lacy, rather alarmed. 
 
 " That you 're in love, sir, beggin' your pardon." 
 
 "Oh! that's all. Well, she's right too. Why, 
 you 're a sharp family altogether." 
 
 " Divil a much sharpness in that," says Rory : 
 " sure whin there 's the laste taste o' love goin', the 
 wind o' the word is enough for a woman. Oh ! let 
 
Rory 0" More 95 
 
 ;hem alone for findin' out the soft side of a man's 
 heart ! the greatest fool o' them all is wise enough 
 in such matthers." 
 
 " O'More," said De Lacy, after another pause, 
 "you're a United Irishman." 
 
 Rory smiled. u Now it 's your turn to be sharp," 
 said he. 
 
 "You are a United man, then ? " said De Lacy. 
 
 "To the core of my heart," replied Rory with 
 energy. 
 
 " Then my mind 's at ease," said De Lacy ; and 
 he held out his hand to O'More, who gave his in re- 
 turn, and De Lacy shook it warmly. 
 
 " God be praised, sir ! " said Rory : " but how does 
 that set your mind at aise ? " 
 
 " Because you can fulfil a mission for me, Rory, 
 that otherwise must have failed; that is, if you '11 
 undertake it." 
 
 " Undhertake it ! I 'd go to the four corners of 
 the earth in a good cause." 
 
 " You 're a brave fellow ! " said De Lacy. 
 
 " But will you tell me, sir," said Rory, " is the 
 French comin' in airnest to help us ? " 
 
 " No doubt of it, Rory, and you shall be the joy- 
 ful messenger of their coming, by doing the errand I 
 wish for." 
 
 " Oh ! but that '11 be the proud day for me, your 
 honour ! " 
 
 " Well, then, there 's no time to lose. I asked you 
 the day of the month a few minutes ago, and my heart 
 sank within me when you told me the date ; to-mor- 
 row I am bound by promise to be in the town of 
 
 , where an agent from France is waiting, who 
 
 bears intelligence to Ireland. It is impossible for 
 me to go , now will you undertake the duty, 
 Rory ? " 
 
9 6 Rory O'More 
 
 " With all the veins o' my heart ! " said 
 " and be proud into the bargain." 
 
 " Go, then," said De Lacy, " to the town of , 
 
 and there on the quay there 's a public-house." 
 
 "'Faith, there is, and more," said Rory. 
 
 "The public-house I mean bears a very odd sign." 
 
 " I '11 be bound I know it," said Rory, whose 
 national impatience would not wait for De Lacy's 
 directions ; " I '11 engage it 's the Cow and the 
 Wheelbarrow." 
 
 "No," said De Lacy, who could not help smiling 
 at the oddness of the combination in Rory's antici- 
 pated sign, " it is not ; but one quite as queer : the 
 Cat and Bagpipes." 
 
 " Oh, that 's a common sign," said Rory. 
 
 " There are a great many very queer things com- 
 mon in Ireland," said De Lacy, who even in his 
 present weakened state could not resist his habitual 
 love of remark. " You are well acquainted, I see, 
 with the town," he continued. 
 
 " Indeed, and I 'm not," said Rory ; " I never was 
 there but wanst, and that happened to be on the quay, 
 by the same token, where I remarked the Cow and 
 the Wheelbarrow, for it 's a sign I never seen afore, 
 and is mighty noticeable." 
 
 u But that is not the sign of the house you are to 
 go to, remember." 
 
 " Oh, by no manes, sir ; the Cat and Bagpipes is 
 my mark." 
 
 " Yes ! and there about the hour of six in the even- 
 ing you will see a party of three men." 
 
 11 But if there 's two parties of three ? " said Rory. 
 
 u You can distinguish our friends by contriving, in 
 the most natural way you can, I mean, so as not to 
 excite observation from any one but those who will 
 understand and answer your signal, to say, 
 
Rory O'More 97 
 
 two, three, in their hearing ; and if those whom I ex- 
 pect you to meet should be there, you will be spoken 
 to by them, and then you must introduce into what- 
 ever you say to them these words, They were very fine 
 ducks. They will then leave the public-house, and 
 you may trust yourself to follow wherever they lead." 
 
 " Now, how am I to make sure that they are 
 right ? " said Rory. 
 
 "You have my word for their being trusty," said 
 De Lacy. 
 
 " Oh, sir, sure it 's not your word I 'd be doubting : 
 but I mane, how am I to make sure that it is the 
 right men / spake to ? " 
 
 " Their noticing your remark will be sufficient ; 
 but, as a further assurance, they can return you the 
 United man's signal and grip. Give me your hand," 
 said De Lacy, and he clasped the extended palm of 
 Rory. 
 
 " That 's the grip," said Rory, " sure enough. 
 Why, thin, how did you come by that, sir ? " said 
 Rory ; " tare alive ! are the French United Irishmen ? " 
 
 " Not exactly," said De Lacy, smiling ; " but the 
 chosen know your signs. Now I 've told you all 
 that 's requisite for your mission : when you give these 
 signs, they whom you '11 meet will tell you what is 
 requisite for me to know, and you can bring me back 
 the intelligence." 
 
 " I 've no time to lose," said Rory ; " I must be off 
 to-morrow by the dawn." 
 
 " Will your mother or sister suspect any thing from 
 your absence ? " 
 
 " Why, sir, the thruth is, neither mother nor sisther 
 ever questioned me about my incomin's or outgoin's ; 
 though they have, av course, observed I was not 
 always reg'lar, and women is sharp enough in sitch 
 matthers ; but they suspect something is going on in 
 
 VOL. I 7 
 
98 Rory O'More 
 
 the counthry; how could they help it? but they know 
 it is in a good cause, and that they have no business 
 to meddle with it, and so the fewer questions they ask, 
 they think it is the betther. They know men must 
 do what becomes men ; and though the mother and 
 sisther loves me as well as ever a son or a brother 
 was loved in this wide world, they would rather see 
 me do what a man ought to do, and die, than skulk 
 and live undher disgrace." 
 
 De Lacy was touched by this simple expression of 
 the chivalrous feeling which existed throughout this 
 humble family, and, after Rory assuring him he would 
 do his mission, and telling him to " keep never mind- 
 ing" to the mother/ he took his instructions once 
 more, and recommended De Lacy to go to sleep. 
 
 It was evening ; so Rory bade his guest good-night. 
 "You won't see me again till afther I come back; 
 make yourself aisy, sir. The thing will be done, 
 depend upon that : above all, say nothing to the 
 mother ; she '11 ask me no questions, and I '11 tell her 
 no lies." With this wise saying, Rory left De Lacy, 
 who soon slept, from the fatigue which the excite- 
 ment he had just gone through produced. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 "BRITANNIA RULES THE WAVES" 
 
 IT was in the grey of a fine autumnal morning, 
 about a fortnight previously to the scene and 
 time just recorded, that a swift lugger was seen dash- 
 ing the spray from her beautiful bows as she sailed 
 through a fleet of stately, men-of-war that lay in the 
 Texel. The lugger made for the shore, and when 
 close in, dropped her anchor ; and her small boat 
 being lowered from her stern, three men entered it, 
 and it was pulled swiftly to the beach. To one who 
 knew not that a craft like the lugger required a nu- 
 merous crew, it might have been supposed, when those 
 three men left her side, that every living thing had 
 departed from her ; for the stillness which prevailed 
 within her was profound. There she lay on the placid 
 water, quiet as the element she floated on, without a 
 sign or a sound to indicate that she was the den of 
 many a daring ruffian. 
 
 About noon, the boat reapproached the lugger, with 
 two additional persons, and after hailing her, and re- 
 maining a few minutes under her quarter, again pushed 
 off, and made for the centre of the fleet, where the 
 flag of Admiral De Winter floated from the mast of 
 the Vryheid, a splendid seventy-four. 
 
 Three persons from the boat went up the side of 
 the admiral's ship, two of whom were admitted to the 
 admiral's cabin ; the third, the commander of the lug- 
 ger, waited on the deck until those he brought from 
 
ioo Rory O'More 
 
 the shore should command his presence below. And 
 these two were persons whose names are well known in 
 the eventful history of the period, and on their heads 
 was the price of blood, .Theobald Wolfe Tone, and 
 Lewines : the former, an exile for some time from 
 his country ; and the other, more recently an envoy 
 from the executive of the disaffected party in Ireland. 
 Tone had obtained rank in the French army, and was 
 at this moment on the etat major of the armament 
 destined for the invasion of the kingdom of Great 
 Britain ; though at what point that invasion might 
 take place was not as yet decided ; it being matter 
 of dispute whether the expedition should land on the 
 English coast, or in Ireland ; whether it should strike 
 at the vitals of Great Britain, or assail her from the 
 extremities. 
 
 General Hoche, who was only second in fame to 
 Bonaparte, was anxious to do something brilliant, while 
 the fame of his rival's Italian campaigns made Europe 
 ring with wonder; and as the prevalence of contrary 
 winds had prevented the expedition sailing for some 
 weeks for Ireland, he made the daring proposal of 
 landing in Lincolnshire, and marching direct on Lon- 
 don. A year before, his expedition, which sailed from 
 Brest for Ireland, was utterly defeated by contrary 
 winds ; and as the same element seemed, as usual, to 
 interpose a providential barrier between England and 
 hei foes, he, with that impatient thought so char- 
 acteristic of genius, suggested the idea that as the 
 wind did not blow in favour of the course they wanted 
 to steer, they should make it subservient to another 
 purpose, descend on the most open quarter, and trust 
 to the fortune of war ; for he burned that some great 
 achievement of his should prevent his name being 
 overshadowed by the freshly-springing laurels of 
 Napoleon Bonaparte. 
 
Rory 0' More 101 
 
 Against this preposterous notion of carrying Eng- 
 land by a coup de main, Tone had always argued stren- 
 uously ; but he found such a singular ignorance of 
 the state of England, as well as Ireland, to exist 
 amongst the French, that it was with great difficulty 
 he could make General Hoche listen to a word against 
 his newly-conceived expedition. It was, therefore, 
 with great pleasure he had the letter of De Lacy, 
 bearing so strongly on this point, put into his hands 
 that morning by the commander of the lugger, and he 
 lost no time in laying it before the authorities in com- 
 mand of the expedition, to dissuade them from a 
 course that he knew could be no other than ruinous. 
 
 When he and Lewines entered the cabin of the 
 admiral, General Hoche and Daendells were looking 
 over a map of England ; and Admiral De Winter, 
 with his second in command, Admiral Storey, were 
 examining charts of the British Channel and the 
 North Sea. 
 
 " You see I Ve not given it up yet," said Hoche 
 vivaciously to Tone. 
 
 " I perceive you have not, general," said the latter , 
 " but I think this will decide you : " and he presented 
 to him the letter of De Lacy. 
 
 Hoche pounced upon it, and began to devour its 
 contents. He passed rapidly on, till, stopping sud- 
 denly, he asked, " Who is this from ? " 
 
 ' Tone informed him it was from an agent of Gen- 
 eral Clarke, who had been commissioned to inquire 
 into the truth of all the statements Tone had made 
 to the Directory. 
 
 11 1 remember," said Hoche ; and he resumed his 
 reading. 
 
 A conversation ensued in the mean time between 
 the admirals and the Irish emissaries, until it was 
 interrupted by Hoche exclaiming impatiently, " )ue 
 
102 Rory O'More 
 
 diable f What have carved ceilings and handsome 
 apartments to do with the matter? His oak ceiling 
 is only good for burning ! What nonsense ! " And 
 he threw down the letter contemptuously. 
 
 " Pray, go on, general," said Tone. " There is a 
 good deal of detail, certainly, in the communication ; 
 but if the writer has been careful and elaborate in his 
 observations, it is only fair to read them all to arrive 
 at a just estimate of his judgment." 
 
 Hoche continued the reading of the letter, and as 
 he proceeded, his face became more thoughtful, he 
 read with deeper attention ; and when he had finished 
 the perusal, he laid down the letter in silence, as if he 
 had not the heart to say, " I must give up my expe- 
 dition," although he felt it was hopeless. 
 
 "You see, general," said Tone, "the expedition to 
 Ireland is the only thing." 
 
 " Whenever it can sail there," said Hoche. 
 
 " That may be a month," said Daendells. 
 
 " Or to-morrow," said Tone. 
 
 " This south-westerly wind is blowing as if it had 
 set in for it," said the admiral, shaking his head, as 
 if he doubted Tone's hopeful anticipation. 
 
 " The troops have been now embarked nearly a 
 month," said General Daendells, "and though amply 
 provisioned for the probable necessities of the expe- 
 dition, it is impossible their stores can last much 
 longer ; and whenever they become exhausted, I 
 doubt how far our government would deem it pru- 
 dent to advance further supplies." 
 
 " General Daendells," said Hoche, " it has ap- 
 peared to me, lately, that the Batavian republic seems 
 to have a jealousy that her army should be led by a 
 general of PVance in an affair that promises so much 
 glory, and I should not wonder that much further 
 delay in the sailing of the expedition might prevent 
 
Rory 'More 103 
 
 this noble undertaking altogether. Now, I would 
 not for the glory of Caesar that my personal fame 
 should interfere with the great cause of universal 
 freedom; and if you think that your legislative as- 
 sembly would be more willing to pursue this enter- 
 prise if it were under the command of one of its 
 own generals, I will withdraw my pretensions to the 
 command, and give all the chance of the glory to 
 you." 
 
 " You are a noble fellow," said Daendells, extend- 
 ing his hand to Hoche ; " there may be some truth 
 in what you say, and I shall never forget this act of 
 generosity on your part, for none can deny that you, 
 from your efforts made, and disappointments endured, 
 in this cause, deserve to reap all the laurels that may 
 be mine in the result. This is the greatest of your 
 conquests, you have triumphed over your ambition ! " 
 
 Tone was affected almost to tears he could 
 scarcely speak ; but, struggling with his emotion, he 
 said, " General, my country will never forget this 
 noble conduct on your part. We knew how brave 
 you are, but we did not know how generous ! " 
 
 " Who brought this letter ? " said Hoche, wishing 
 to turn the conversation. 
 
 " De Welskein, the smuggler," said Tone ; " and 
 he wishes to know whether he may promise speedy 
 aid to the sufferers in Ireland, for they are beginning 
 to be impatient of it." 
 
 " The moment the wind permits, they shall have 
 succour," said Daendells. " Is it not so, admiral ? " 
 said he to De Winter. 
 
 " Certainly," answered the admiral. " Is the 
 smuggler on board ? " added he, addressing Tone. 
 
 " Yes, admiral." 
 
 " Then I wish to speak to him ; " and the smug- 
 gler was ordered into the admiral's presence. 
 
104 Rory 0' More 
 
 De Welskein was a Frenchman, though bearing a 
 Dutch name : he was one of the many desperate 
 characters that the French revolution produced. A 
 fellow of loose habits and desperate fortunes, he took 
 to smuggling, as the readiest mode of indulging the 
 one and repairing the other : he had also a love of 
 finesse, and a spirit of intrigue, that this sort of life 
 enabled him to indulge in ; and he was the most 
 active of the agents in carrying on intelligence be- 
 tween France and Ireland at that period ; not that 
 he cared for the Irish, not that he had a moral sensi- 
 bility within him to desire the liberation of the veriest 
 slave, but that it gave him an opportunity to smug- 
 gle and intrigue. Many a turbulent spirit in Ireland 
 who longed for an outbreak of rebellion, and who 
 looked to France for aid, courted Monsieur De 
 Welskein as emissary from the land of promise, and 
 he made them, through this hold upon them, more 
 ready instruments in his smuggling speculations. 
 
 Deficient though De Welskein was in any moral 
 appreciation of the beauty of freedom, he babbled in 
 the jargon of his time about it, and shouted " Vive la 
 libert'e!" because his liberte meant the absence of all 
 restraint, human or divine ; and he had a sort of con- 
 fused notion that a revolution was glorious, and that 
 it was the business of the grande nation to revolu- 
 tionise the world in general, but Ireland in particular, 
 because it gave him a good opportunity for smuggling 
 brandy and tobacco. 
 
 There was a species of melodramatic fancy about 
 the fellow too a propensity for romance and ad- 
 venture, that his connection with Ireland gratified. 
 Besides, it indulged his vanity, as, in his present 
 situation, Monsieur Eugene St. Foix De Welskein 
 was no small personage in his own opinion : he 
 rhodomontaded about the fate of empires and the 
 
Rory O'More 105 
 
 destinies of nations^ as if he were a sucking Jupiter, 
 or one of the French Directory. 
 
 His names too were a source of rejoicing to him : 
 Eugene St. Foix. The former he inherited from his 
 father ; the latter was the maiden name of his mother, 
 who was a washerwoman. De Welskein he did not 
 much like ; so that his companions, when they wished 
 to vex him, called him by his surname, while in 
 moments of friendship they addressed him as Eugene ; 
 but when they courted him, the heroic title of St. 
 Foix was the one they preferred. To be sure, they 
 sometimes called him, behind his back Sans Foi ; but 
 in his presence he was fond of having his courage 
 celebrated under the name of Sans Peur : so that St. 
 Foix sans peur was a flattering address sometimes made 
 to him : but though St. Foix was certainly sans peur, 
 he was not sans reproche. 
 
 When De Welskein entered the cabin, Admiral De 
 Winter asked him, had he seen the English fleet ? 
 
 He answered, that he had passed them in the night. 
 
 " Then you could not count the number of their 
 ships ? " said the admiral. 
 
 " I was sufficiently near in the morning to sec 
 them," said the smuggler, " and I think they are 
 eighteen sail." 
 
 " Eighteen ! are you sure ? " 
 
 " I think, eighteen ; I 'm almost sure." 
 
 " Frigates, or line-of-battle ? " 
 
 " Most line-of-battle." 
 
 " I see he has observed them," said the admiral, 
 " for I could perceive, even from the harbour, with a 
 glass, that they were all line-of-battle : but I could 
 only make out fifteen ; they must have been rein- 
 forced. Some of their ships were in mutiny at the 
 Nore ; perhaps the mutiny has been suppressed, and 
 that accounts for the increase of numbers," 
 
io6 Rory O'More 
 
 " That 's unlucky," said Tone. 
 
 " How unlucky, sir ? " said Storey. 
 
 " As long as our fleet had a superiority, there was a 
 chance we could force our passage ; but " 
 
 u Sir," said Storey, "you mistake very much if you 
 think we would shrink from contending with an equal, 
 or even superior number of the enemy. I wish for 
 nothing better than to be broadside to broadside with 
 them." 
 
 This was the bravado of the man who, in about a 
 month after, deserted De Winter in his engagement 
 with that identical fleet, and literally ran away with 
 his division of the Dutch force from the enemy he 
 vaunted himself so eager to engage. So much for 
 braggarts ! 
 
 " Pardon me, admiral," said Tone ; " I hope neither 
 you nor Admiral De Winter " and he bowed defer- 
 entially to that gallant officer, as if it were to him 
 rather than to Storey he apologised "I hope you 
 do not suppose me so unworthy as to undervalue the 
 bravery of the Dutch navy, at the same time that I 
 consider it a matter of importance we should reach 
 Ireland without an engagement, as by that means our 
 force will be undiminished ; and I wish that the army 
 landed should be as large as possible, for the affair will 
 be the sooner decided, and thus an effusion of blood 
 will be spared, and I wish from my heart that in my 
 poor country as little blood as possible may be shed." 
 
 " Bah ! " said Hoche ; "you can't make omelettes 
 without breaking of eggs" 
 
 " Adjutant-general," said De Winter to Tone, " I 
 do not misapprehend you : there is no denying that 
 the English are a brave enemy, and Admiral Duncan 
 is a gallant and able officer. I shall not seek an 
 encounter with him until I land your expedition, 
 but I shall certainly not shun it." 
 
Rory O'More 107 
 
 Thus spoke the man of true courage, who fought 
 his ships gallantly in the subsequent action, even after 
 the defection of the braggart who deserted him. 
 
 Tone tapped General Hoche on the shoulder, and 
 led him apart for a few words in private, the door 
 being open that led to the stern gallery, they walked 
 forth, and Tone began an energetic address, request- 
 ing the general to dissuade the admiral as much as 
 possible from an engagement with the English fleet. 
 " Let the troops be landed in Ireland," said he : " on 
 the land you are invincible, as the English are on the 
 seas. Fate seems to have given to them the dominion 
 of the ocean. Mark me my words are prophetic 
 so sure as this fleet shall engage the English, so 
 surely shall it be beaten ! " 
 
 " De Winter is an able officer," said Hoche. 
 
 " He is," said Tone, "and a brave man, I am cer- 
 tain, from his moderate manner; while I doubt very 
 much the courage of that flourishing gentleman. But 
 have we not the example of repeated engagements to 
 show us that Great Britain is an overmatch for every 
 nation on the seas ? and it makes my blood boil to 
 think that while her fleets are freely manned by Irish- 
 men, the land that gives them birth groans beneath 
 her oppression. Ireland helps to gather laurels for 
 Britain's brows, but not a leaf of the chaplet is given 
 to her; she shares in winning the victories that enrich 
 and aggrandise the Queen of the Ocean, but is allowed 
 no portion of the fame or the prosperity." 
 
 " Be not thus agitated," said Hoche soothingly, 
 touched by the fierce enthusiasm with which Tone 
 uttered the latter part of his address : " when once 
 this armament lands in Ireland, there is an end of 
 Great Britain's domination." 
 
 " Ay, when it lands," said Tone, with a voice in 
 which impatience and hopelessness were strangely 
 
io8 Rory O'More 
 
 blended. " Oh ! " said he, stretching out his hands 
 to the expanse of sea and sky before him " Oh ! 
 ye elements ye mysterious agents of Heaven ! why 
 do ye interpose your potent shield of air and foam 
 between England and her foes ? You blasted the 
 Armada of Spain ; I saw you scatter the ships of 
 France at Bantry; and now this gallant fleet, with 
 fifteen thousand chosen men, who burn for the 
 liberation of my country, is chained here by an 
 adverse wind for a whole month ! Ireland, my 
 country, I fear you are doomed ! " 
 
 His hands dropped to his side, his head sank on his 
 chest, and he stood wSth his eyes fixed on the ground. 
 
 "Rally, man rally! " said Hoche, slapping him 
 on the shoulder : " why, adjutant-general, I have 
 never seen you thus before ! " 
 
 " Whenever I think of the fate of that unhappy 
 country, it breaks my heart ! But I 've done : 
 only, for God's sake, General Hoche, dissuade them 
 from a sea-fight ; we are ruined if they attempt it." 
 
 Hoche and Tone now re-entered the cabin. They 
 found De Winter and Daendells giving instructions 
 to the smuggler. De Winter desired him to put 
 himself in the way of the English fleet, and give 
 them some false information. It was planned that 
 De Welskein should pass the English squadron in the 
 night, and towards morning sail back again, as if he 
 came up Channel, and tell the English admiral that 
 he saw a French fleet at the Channel's mouth ; this 
 might give him an idea that the Brest fleet had got 
 out to sea, which would serve to divide his attention, 
 and possibly draw him farther ofF the coast, and leave 
 a passage from the Texel more open, in case the wind 
 should change so as to favour such a movement. 
 
 General Daendells told him to assure the Irish of 
 speedy succour, for that fifteen thousand men were 
 
Rory O'More 109 
 
 embarked for that service, and only waited a fair 
 wind to sail. A few lines to De Lacy, from Hoche, 
 was all the writing the smuggler bore, and he left the 
 ship on his mission. 
 
 Such were the plans that were proposed ; such 
 were the promises made. What was the result ? 
 
 The wind continued foul a fortnight longer ; in all, 
 six weeks. The provisions for so large a number of 
 troops, as well as seamen, became exhausted ; the 
 troops were relanded ; the expedition to Ireland was 
 given up, and England again was spared the danger 
 of a formidable invasion into a disaffected portion of 
 her kingdom. 
 
 The night the troops were disembarked, Tone 
 went to his tent with a heavy heart : the next morn- 
 ing he saw the pennants of the fleet turned towards 
 England. 
 
 The breeze which the day before would have made 
 his blood dance, had he felt it on the deck of the 
 Vryheid, now only made his heart sick ; he stood 
 on the beach like one possessed. After remaining 
 motionless for some minutes, he stamped fiercely, 
 clenched his teeth, struck his forehead with his hand, 
 and walked rapidly away ; but ere he descended a 
 slight declivity that shut out the bay, he turned round 
 and cast a look of despair towards his country. 
 
 Thus ended the second expedition undertaken for 
 the invasion of Ireland : and the gallant Hoche, 
 within a month after, was no more cut off in his 
 prime of manhood and career of glory by the hand oi 
 the assassin ! * 
 
 And what was the fate of the fleet ? 
 
 Admiral De Winter, the October following, sailed 
 from the Texel, met the English squadron under 
 
 1 Hoche' s life was attempted more than once. His death 
 was attributed to slow poison. 
 
no Rory O'More 
 
 Admiral Duncan, and fought like a hero ; - - but 
 Storey deserted him. De Winter, nevertheless, main- 
 tained a fierce engagement against superior numbers : 
 but the prophecy of Tone was fulfilled ; after a well- 
 contested fight, the Dutch struck their colours, and 
 the flag of England again floated triumphantly over 
 the seas. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE PRETTY GIRL MILKING HER COW 
 
 " I saw a young damsel, 't was Noreen ; 
 
 Her ringlets did carelessly flow. 
 Oh ! how I adore you, ma vourneen, 
 Ma colleen dhas crutheen na mbho." 
 
 RORY O'MORE left his cottage at an early 
 hour the morning after his conversation with 
 De Lacy. For a few miles he followed the by-road 
 that led from his house, and then struck into a path 
 through some fields, for the purpose of making the 
 high-road which was the direct way to the place of 
 his destination. 
 
 As he was walking briskly on, looking neither to 
 the right nor the left, but quite absorbed in the con- 
 templation of the business he had undertaken, his 
 attention was suddenly arrested by hearing one of 
 those quaint and sportive melodies of his country, 
 sung by a sweet voice. Rory paused ; he recog- 
 nised the tones that had so often made his heart thrill 
 with pleasure, and running up the gentle hill before 
 him, he beheld, as he topped the summit on the other 
 side of the hillock, seated under the shade of a haw- 
 thorn hedge, a beautiful peasant girl, whose song pro- 
 ceeded merrily, while she was milking her cows. 
 
 Kathleen Regan was sitting with her back towards 
 the point whence Rory approached ; so that he was 
 enabled, unperceived by her, to gaze with pleasure on 
 her sweet figure, and listen to her sportive song. 
 
ii2 Rory O'More 
 
 There 's a lad that I know ; and I know that he 
 
 Speaks softly to me. 
 
 The c uMa-ma-c hree ! 
 
 He 's the pride of my heart, and he loves me well ; 
 But who the lad is, I 'm not going to tell. 
 
 He 's as straight as a rush, and as bright as the stream 
 
 That around it dcth gleam, . 
 
 Oh ! of him how I dream ! 
 
 I *m as high as his shoulder the way that I know 
 Is, he caught me one day, just my measure to show. 
 
 He whisper' d a question one day in my ear : 
 
 When he breathed it, oh dear ! 
 
 How I trembled with fear ! 
 
 What the question he ask'd was, I need not confess : 
 But the answer I gave to the question was, " Yes." 
 
 His eyes they are bright, and they looked so kind 
 
 When I was inclined 
 
 To speak my mind ! 
 
 And his breath is so sweet oh, the rose's is less ! 
 And how I found it out, why I leave you to guess. 
 
 The scene was one to excite the imagination and 
 charm the senses of one less keen to such pleasures 
 than Rory. He could catch the soft scent of the 
 morning breath of the cows, vying in fragrance with 
 the woodbine that was peeping through the hedge ; at 
 the same time that he could hear the sweet voice of 
 the girl he loved, and see her bright ringlets curl 
 down her graceful neck and beautifully-rounded 
 shoulders. 
 
 He watched her for some moments in silent admi- 
 ration, and then stealing softly behind her and suddenly 
 uttering " Wow ! " the girl started, and in her 
 moment of surprise Rory caught her in his arms and 
 snatched a kiss. A hearty box on his ear followed 
 the salute, with the exclamation of, 
 
 " You divil ! how dar you ! " 
 
Rory O'More 113 
 
 u I lave you to guess" said Rory, laughing. 
 
 " You 're mighty impident, so you are, Rory." 
 
 " Arrah ! how could I help it, Kathleen darlin' ? " 
 said Rory with a look of admiration that would have 
 softened the anger of even a more cruel beauty than 
 Kathleen ; a look that appealed more strongly to 
 the self-love of the woman than the liberty taken had 
 startled her modesty. 
 
 " You 're very impident, so you are," said Kath- 
 leen, settling her hair, that had been tossed into 
 a most becoming confusion over her face in the 
 struggle. 
 
 " You often towld me that before," said Rory. 
 
 " It does not do you much good, thin," said Kath- 
 leen. "You bear me, but you don't heed me." 
 
 " Why, if you go to that, how can I help myself? 
 Sure you might as well keep the ducks from the 
 wather, or the bees from the flowers, as my heart 
 from you, Kathleen." 
 
 "Now, Rory, lavd off!" 
 
 " By this light, Kathleen ! " 
 
 " Now don't be goin' on, Rory ! " 
 
 " There 's not a girl " 
 
 " Now, don't be makin' a fool o' yourself and me 
 too," said Kathleen. 
 
 " If makin' you my own would be to make a fool 
 of you, thin it 's a fool I 'd make you, sure enough," 
 said Rory. 
 
 " Rory," said Kathleen rather sadly, " don't be 
 talkin* this way to me, it's good for neither of 
 us." 
 
 " Kathleen darling ! " said Rory, " what 's the 
 matther with you ? " and he approached her, and 
 gently took her hand. 
 
 " Nothing," said she, " nothing, only it 's fool- 
 ishness." 
 
 VOL. I- 
 
ii4 Rory O'More 
 
 " Don't call honest love, foolishness, Kathleen 
 dear. Sure, why would we have hearts in our bodies 
 if we did n't love ? Sure, our hearts would be no 
 use at all without we wor fond of one another. 
 Arrah ! what's the matther with you, Kathleen ? " 
 
 " I must go home, Rory ; let me go, Rory dear," 
 said she with a touching tone of sadness on the dear, 
 as she strove to disengage from her waist, the hand 
 that Rory had stolen round it. 
 
 u No, I won't let you go, Kathleen, ma vourneen" 
 said Rory, with passion and pathos, as he held her 
 closer in his embrace. " Now or never, Kathleen, I 
 must have your answer. You are the girl that is, 
 and ever was, in the very core of my heart, and I '11 
 never love another but yourself. Don't be afraid that 
 I '11 change ; I 'm young, but I 'm thrue : the blessed 
 sun that sees us both this minit is not thruer; and 
 he 's a witness to what I say to you now, Kathleen 
 asthore, that you are the pulse o' my heart, and I '11 
 never rest aisy till you 're my wife." 
 
 Kathleen could not. speak. She trembled while 
 Rory made his last address to her ; her lip quivered 
 as he proceeded ; two big tear-drops sprang to her 
 eyes, and hung on their long dark lashes, when he 
 called her " pulse of his heart ; " but when he named 
 the holy name of wife, she fell upon his neck and 
 burst into a violent flood of tears. 
 
 Rory felt this was a proof of his being beloved; but 
 't was not the way in which, from Kathleen's spor- 
 tive nature, he thought it likely she would accept a 
 husband to whom there was no objection ; and while 
 he soothed the sobbing of the agitated girl, he won- 
 dered what could be the cause of her violent emotion. 
 When she became calm, he said, " Kathleen dear, 
 don't be vexed with me if I took you too sudden : 
 you know I 'm none of the coolest, and so forgive me, 
 
Rory O'More 115 
 
 jewel! I'll say no more to you now; only give 
 me an answer at your own good time, my darling." 
 
 Kathleen wiped the tears from her eyes, and said, 
 " No, Rory dear : you 've been plain with me, and 
 
 I '11 be plain with you. As for myself " she 
 
 looked up in his eyes, and their soft and confiding 
 expression, and the gentle pressure of the hand that 
 accompanied the look, told more than the words 
 could have done which her maiden modesty forbade 
 her utter. 
 
 " You love me, then ? " said Rory with delighted 
 energy ; and he pressed her to his heart while she 
 yielded her lips to the pressure of a kiss which the 
 fire of pure love had refined from the dross of 
 passion. 
 
 " Oh, Rory, but my brother Shan ? " 
 
 " Well, what o' that ? " said Rory. 
 
 "Oh, you know, you know," said Kathleen 
 mournfully. 
 
 " Yis, Mary didn't take to him; but sure that's 
 no rayson." 
 
 " Oh ! you don't know him ! " 
 
 " We 've been rather cool, to be sure, since, but I 
 never put coolness between me and him ; and if my 
 sisther could n't like him, sure that 's no rayson to 
 put between you and me." 
 
 " Oh, Rory, Shan is very dark ; and I 'm afeard." 
 
 "But why should he prevent our comin' together ? 
 Sure is n't there your mother ? " 
 
 " Oh, but she 's afeard of him, and " 
 
 " But how do you know he would make objec- 
 tions ? " 
 
 The poor girl blushed scarlet as she said, "Why, to 
 tell you the thruth, Rory, and it 's no matther now that 
 you know it, afther what 's passed between us this 
 morning ; but Shan suspected I liked you, and he 
 
ii6 Rory O'More 
 
 warned me agen it, and swore a bitter oath, that if 
 ever I 'd think of you, he 'd " 
 
 " What ? " said Rory. 
 
 " Curse me," said Kathleen ; and she shuddered as 
 she said it. 
 
 " God forgive him ! " said Rory solemnly. " But 
 never mind, Kathleen ; I '11 meet him, and I '11 spake 
 him fair, and tell him the thruth. And when I spake 
 to him like a man, he can't be less of a man, and he 
 would n't be of so dark a heart to keep spite agen me 
 because my sisther did n't love him." 
 
 u It 's the kind and generous heart you have, Rory ; 
 but I 'm afeard it would be no use : at all events, 
 don't be in a hurry about it ; wait a bit, and maybe 
 when he comes across some other girl that will wane 
 his heart from the owld love, he may be aisier about 
 it; but at this present, Rory dear, don't purtend that 
 you love me, nor let on what you said to me this 
 morning." 
 
 " It 's hard to hide what 's in the heart," said 
 Rory ; " for even if the tongue does n't bethray you, 
 it may peep out of your eyes." 
 
 " But we sha'n't meet often," said Kathleen ; " so 
 there will be the less danger of that." 
 
 "That's hard too," said Rory. " But, Kathleen, 
 
 will you " he could not finish the sentence, but 
 
 Kathleen caught his meaning, and said, 
 
 "You couldn't say the words, Rory, you were 
 going to say, will I be thrue to you ? Oh, Rory 
 dear ! I have given you my heart, because I could n't 
 help it, and I trust to you that you have given me 
 yours ; and, oh ! don't take it away from me ! I 
 must hide my love for a time. I '11 hide it as a miser 
 would hide his gold ; and oh, Rory ! don't let me 
 find the treasure gone when I may venture to show it 
 to the day." 
 
Rory O'More 117 
 
 " Kathleen darling ! while there 's life in my heart, 
 it is you are the queen of it." 
 
 " Go, now," said Kathleen ; " go, don't stay 
 longer here ; I would n't have you seen for the 
 king's ransom." 
 
 " May the heavens bless and keep you ! " said Rory ; 
 " one more kiss, my own own girl ; " and clasp- 
 ing her in his arms, they bade each other farewell. 
 
 Rory hurried on with a rapid step that accorded 
 with the tumult of his feelings, and was soon lost to 
 Kathleen's sight. She looked after him while he re- 
 mained within view, and then resumed her occupa- 
 tion ; but it was in silence. The sportive song had 
 ceased the light-heartedness of the girl had passed 
 away even with the consciousness of a deeper pleasure. 
 Her task ended, she took up her pail, and went her 
 way homewards, but not with the elastic step with which 
 she had trodden the wild flowers on her outgoing. 
 
 When 'Rory gained the high road, he pursued his 
 way mechanically towards the place of his destination, 
 without a thought of the immediate business he had in 
 hand. His brain was in a whirl, and his heart in a 
 blaze ; and love and Kathleen Regan were the objects 
 of his thoughts, and not conspiracies and his mysteri- 
 ous guest. 
 
 His approach to the town, however, reminded him 
 of the object of his mission, and he proceeded at the 
 appointed hour to the public-house indicated by De 
 Lacy. It was market-day in the town, so that the 
 public-house was more crowded than on ordinary oc- 
 casions ; and Rory, when he entered, saw many per- 
 sons engaged in drinking porter and whiskey, but 
 mostly the latter. He cast his eyes about to see if 
 such a group as he was instructed to look for was 
 there, and more than one party of three was present ; 
 he therefore had to exercise his sagacity in selecting 
 
n8 Rory O'More 
 
 which of the groups was the one to test by his signal, 
 and he, was not long in deciding. It was at the 
 further end of the room, where a small square window 
 admitted as much light as could find its way through 
 some panes of greenish glass, with bulls' eyes in the 
 middle of them, covered with dust, that three men 
 were seated at a dirty table where a congregation of 
 flies were finishing a pot of porter. The aspect of one 
 of the men struck Rory to be "outlandish," as he 
 would have said himself, and the quick and restless 
 twinkle of his dark eye spoke of a more southern 
 climate. To this group Rory approached, and look- 
 ing round, as it were to see where he should sit, he 
 asked permission of the party to take share of their 
 box for the room was divided into such compart- 
 ments. They made room for him ; and he, taking 
 up the empty quart-pot on whose dregs the flies were 
 regaling, knocked loudly with it on the table and 
 started the buzzing nuisances from their banquet, and 
 being driven from their pewter palace, they alighted 
 on the various little pools and meandering streams of 
 various liquids that stood upon the filthy table, which 
 seemed to be left to them as a sort of patrimony, as the 
 fallen dates are to the wanderers in the East. The 
 tender-hearted sthreel who was the Hebe of the house 
 would not have robbed the poor fl ies of their feast for the 
 world, by wiping the table. Charity is a great virtue ! 
 This dirty handmaiden came in answer to Rory's 
 thumping of the quart-pot on the board. 
 
 " Loose were her tresses seen, 
 Her zone unbound." 
 
 Her foot was unsandalled, too ; in short, she was, 
 as Rory remarked to his neighbour beside him, " loose 
 and careless, like the leg of a pot." 
 
 w What do yizz want ? " says Hebe. 
 
Rory O'More 119 
 
 " Something to dhrink," says Rory. 
 
 " Is it a pot, a pint, or a crapper ? " says Hebe. 
 
 " I '11 jist take the cobwebs out o' my throat with 
 a pint first," says Rory. 
 
 " I '11 sarve you immadiently," says Hebe, who 
 took up the quart, and to save time she threw out 
 the dregs of the liquor it had contained on the floor, 
 and then held it up inverted in a most graceful manner, 
 that it might drain itself clean for the next customer , 
 so that her course might be tracked up and down the 
 room by the drippings of the various vessels, and thus 
 she, " did her spiriting gently, dropping odours, drop- 
 ping wine," ale, and sper'ts. 
 
 She returned soon with a pint of porter to Rory, 
 who took out a shilling to pay for it. " I '11 throuble 
 you for the change, my dear," said he. 
 
 Off she went again to get the change, and, after 
 some time, again returned, bearing two quarts of 
 porter in one hand, and a jug of punch hanging be- 
 tween the fore-finger and thumb of the other, while a 
 small roll of tobacco and a parcel of halfpence were 
 clutched in the remaining fingers. The liquids and 
 the tobacco she deposited before a party that sat in a 
 box opposite to Rory, and then, advancing to htm, 
 she flopped the halfpence down on the table before 
 him, and putting her hand to her mouth, pulled out 
 of it a piece of tin which she was pleased to call six- 
 pence, and sticking it on the top of the halfpence, she 
 said, " There 's your change, sir." 
 
 u It 's a tinker you have to make change for you, 
 I b'lieve," said Rory. 
 
 " How is it a tinker ? " said the damsel. 
 
 " Oh, I would n't take that piece of tin from you 
 for the world," said Rory; "you might want it to 
 stop a hole in a saucepan, and maybe it 's coming 
 afther me you 'd be for it." 
 
120 Rory O'More 
 
 " I 'd be long sorry to folly you," said the damsel, 
 saucily, and turning away. 
 
 " See, young woman," said Rory " don't be in 
 sitch a hurry if you plaze I gave you a good hog, 1 
 and I '11 throuble you for a good taisther." 
 
 " I haven't a betther to give you, sir barrin' 
 halfpence." 
 
 " Well I 'm noways proud, so the halfpence will 
 do for me ; good copper is betther than bad silver, 
 any day." 
 
 The state of the silver currency in Ireland at this 
 period was disgraceful so bad, that it left the public 
 almost at the mercy of the coiners. When the War- 
 wickshire militia went to Ireland, many of the privates, 
 having been workmen in Birmingham, were very smart 
 hands at the practice, and many stories are current 
 of their doings in this line. Amongst others, it is 
 stated that a party of these men in a public-house 
 offered some bad money for what they had drunk : 
 but the publican being on his guard, as their habits in 
 this way were becoming notorious, refused several shil- 
 lings one after another. The soldier who offered them 
 said the dealer in liquor was over-particular ; but he 
 retorted, that they were so well known for their tricks, 
 it was necessary to be cautious. " Well," said the 
 soldier at last, " here then, since nothing else will 
 do ; " and he threw down another coin, and a very 
 good-looking one it was. The landlord examined it 
 for a while, but at last it was rejected. " What ! " 
 said the soldier, " nor not that neither ! " " No," 
 said the landlord. So a good shilling was obliged to 
 be produced at last, and as the party left the house, 
 the discomfited hero was heard to say, " Well, I never 
 know'd one o y Tom's make to miss before." 
 
 1 The shilling and sixpence were called by the lower orders 
 " hog "and " tester." 
 
Rory O'More 121 
 
 The girl brought back Rory the value of the six- 
 pence in copper or rather, much more than its 
 value; and then Rory commenced reckoning his 
 change, which was the means he had decided on for 
 throwing out his signal. So, spreading the halfpence 
 before him, he began, 
 
 "One, two, three there's some sense in good 
 halfpence ; one, two, three jist as if I was to rob 
 you of your tin, my good girl ; one, two, three 
 phoo ! murdher ! I 'm mixin' them all." 
 
 " Arrah will you never be done reckonin' them ! " 
 said Hebe impatiently ; " one ud think 't was a hun- 
 dher poun' you wor countin', let alone change of a 
 hog. I 'm thinkin', it 's no great credit to your 
 schoolrnasther you are." 
 
 " Fair and aisy goes far in a day," said Rory, again 
 commencing to count his change. 
 
 " One, two, three ; " and while he spoke, he looked 
 at the dark-eyed man, in whose face he fancied he 
 caught something of an expression of the intelligence 
 of his meaning, and the.n he proceeded with his reckon- 
 ing and dismissed the girl. 
 
 One of the men now addressed him and said, 
 "You are particular in counting your change." 
 
 " Yes, indeed I am," said Rory, " and I '11 tell you 
 the reason why : because I lost some money the other 
 day by not being particular in that same, when I was 
 buying some ducks." 
 
 The dark-eyed man looked very sharply on Rory 
 as he proceeded. 
 
 " To be sure, I did n't mind the loss much, for 
 the ducks was worth the money. They wor very fine 
 ducks." 
 
 A still keener glance from the dark-eyed man 
 followed Rory's last words, and he rose immediately, 
 and left the public-house ; his two companions did so 
 
122 Rory 'More 
 
 likewise, and Rory lost no time in following them. 
 On reaching the door, he saw them standing together 
 a few paces removed from the house, and on seeing 
 him appear they walked down the quay until they 
 arrived at a corner, where looking back to see that 
 he followed, they turned up the street. Rory tracked 
 them, and at another turn the same practice was ob- 
 served by his conductors, whom he continued to 
 follow, dodging them through many an intricate 
 winding, until arriving at a very narrow alley, they 
 turned for the last time, and when Rory reached the 
 spot, he perceived them about half-way up the passage 
 standing at the mouth of a cellar ; and the moment 
 he appeared, they all suddenly descended. He fol- 
 lowed fast upon them, and going down a steep and 
 broken stair, entered a low door which was closed the 
 moment he had passed it, and he found himself in 
 total darkness. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 IN WHICH RORY HEARS AND SEES MORE THAN HE 
 BARGAINED FOR, AND FINDS IN THE CONCLUSION 
 THE TRUTH OF THE PROVERB, THAT PROVIDENCE 
 NEVER SHUTS ONE DOOR WITHOUT OPENING 
 ANOTHER 
 
 WHILE spots of red and green were dancing be- 
 fore Rory's eyes by his sudden immersion 
 from light into darkness, a voice close beside him 
 said, 
 
 " Ver glaad to see you." 
 
 u God spare you your eyesight ! " said Rory ; " I 
 wish I could return the compliment to you." 
 
 Rory heard a low laugh in another tone, and then 
 the former voice spoke again : 
 
 " Whaat ! you no glaad to see me ? " 
 
 " 'Faith, I would be very glad to see you ; but how 
 can I see you in the dark ? " 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! I see, you fonee feylow ha ha ! " 
 
 " Strek a light," said another voice. 
 
 " Wait a minit I 'm gettin' the tendher-box," 
 was the answer. 
 
 The foreign voice again said, addressing Rory, 
 
 u You air wailcome." 
 
 " Thank you kindly,"- said Rory ; " give us your 
 fist." 
 
 " Vaut you say ? " 
 
 w Give us your fist.'* 
 
124 Rory O'More 
 
 u He 's biddin* you shake hands wid him," said 
 a voice that had not yet spoken ; and Rory thought 
 it was one he should know, though where he had 
 heard it he could not remember. 
 
 " Oh ! " said the foreigner, " donnez-moi la main." 
 
 " No, I dunna any man," said Rory. 
 
 " Bah ! shek han' wis me ! " said the voice. 
 
 Rory now stretched out his hand, and encountered 
 an extended palm which grasped his and exchanged 
 with him the grip of the United Irishman. 
 
 This satisfied Rory all was right, and he now 
 waited with patience for the light. The sound of 
 a flint and steel, followed by a shower of sparks, 
 showed that the process of illumination was going 
 forward ; the tinder soon became ignited, and the 
 sharp sound of blowing was soon followed by the 
 lighting of a match and the first face that its lurid 
 glare fell upon was that of Shan Regan. 
 
 Rory started : he was the last person he expected 
 to meet, and certainly the last he could have wished 
 to see in that place. A coolness for some time had 
 existed between them, as the reader already knows ; 
 and though Rory fully intended to do all in his power 
 to remove it, and to meet Regan for that purpose as 
 often as he could, yet on such an occasion as the 
 present he could have wished him absent. His pres- 
 ence there, it is true, showed him to be engaged in 
 the same cause as Rory, and one at the first glance 
 might suppose that this would have facilitated a 
 reconciliation between them ; but on closer examina- 
 tion we shall find this not to be the case. In all 
 conspiracies where men are linked together in a cause 
 whose penalty is death, private friendship is desirable 
 amongst its members, at least in its early stages, 
 where fidelity is essential to its existence. Personal 
 foes may fight side by side in the same cause when 
 
Rory O'More 125 
 
 once a conspiracy arrives at its outbreak j but in its 
 secret preparatory councils, a man recoils from the 
 contact of any but a friend. 
 
 It was the consciousness of this fact, perhaps, that 
 led to the ingenious construction of the plan by which 
 the heads of the Society of United Irishmen contrived 
 to organise a great portion of Ireland. The system 
 was this : There was a Chief Committee of twelve ; 
 each of these twelve was the head of another twelve, 
 but between each knot of twelve there was no ac- 
 quaintance they were totally distinct from each 
 other; so that an extensive ramification of union 
 existed in parties of twelve, each obeying its own 
 superior, through whom, alone, all commands and 
 plans were conveyed. Each knot was thus a little 
 band of friends, and from their distinctness, the secret 
 was the more likely to be kept. It will be seen that 
 by this means the Head Committee organised one 
 hundred and forty-four members, whose knots of 
 twelve each being multiplied, gives a force of twenty 
 thousand seven hundred and odd men, and their mul- 
 tiplied dozens would produce nearly two hundred and 
 forty-nine thousand ; thus, at three removes from the 
 focus of the system, a powerful force was at a mo- 
 ment's command, within whose several knots private 
 friendship as well as the common cause was a source 
 of union and fidelity. It was only in the higher 
 grades of the confederation that private signals existed. 
 In the inferior classes, each dozen only knew their 
 own circle ; so that to whatever extent the system 
 might be spread, each of the subordinate actors was 
 intimate with no more than twelve persons, which 
 tended at once to give greater personal security, 
 and to prevent also a premature explosion of the 
 conspiracy. 
 
 This brief sketch of the system is given, to account 
 
i26 Rory O'More 
 
 for Rory not knowing Regan to be a United man, 
 although living in the same district. Regan belonged 
 to another circle ; and it was from very different 
 desires that he was of the association, and with a 
 very different set that he was leagued. Rory became 
 a United Irishman from other and better motives 
 than Regan. However erroneous those motives might 
 have been, they had their origin in a generous nature; 
 wild notions of the independence of his country were 
 uppermost in the mind of Rory, while the mere love 
 of licence was the incentive to Regan. During that 
 terrible period of Ireland's history, some of the in- 
 surgents were pure, however mistaken enthusiasts ; 
 while there were others whose love of turbulence was 
 their only motive. Of the latter class was Regan : 
 he had inherited from his father a comfortable farm, 
 but his love of debasing amusements such as cock- 
 fighting, &c., the frequency of his visits to public- 
 houses, and his attachment to disorderly company, 
 had led him from the wholesome pursuits that would 
 have made him good and prosperous, to become im- 
 provident and embarrassed. 
 
 It is strange that whenever this takes place, a man 
 mostly becomes an idler : the very fact which should 
 warn him of his danger, and make him exert himself 
 the more, generally operates in the contrary way. He 
 gives himself up as it were to ruin, and seeks in dissi- 
 pation forgetfulness of the past and disregard of the 
 future. This state of things lasts as long as there is 
 any thing left to support him ; and when all is lost, 
 he is then fit for every sort of violence or meanness ; 
 he must be either a beggar or a desperado. 
 
 It was in the middle stage that Regan fell in with 
 De Welskein. They were just the men for each 
 other : Regan was the head of a disorderly set of 
 fellows, who were ready and active agents in assisting 
 
Rory O'More 127 
 
 the Frenchman in his smuggling ; and, in return, the 
 brandy, and tobacco, and merry-makings of the smug- 
 gler were ample temptations and regards for Regan. 
 The debauched orgies of the cellar, where Rory now 
 found himself for the first time, were familiar to the 
 unfortunate victim of idleness, bad company, and 
 lawless desires. 
 
 Though he was often absent from home and ne- 
 glected his husbandry, he still retained his farm ; but 
 his payments of rent became irregular, his farming 
 stock grew less by degrees ; a cow, a sheep, a pig, 
 was obliged now and then to be sacrificed to supply 
 his riotous propensities, and his poor mother and 
 sister saw with sorrow their comforts lessening around 
 them : but they complained not, for they dreaded the 
 fierce temper of Shan Dhu, or Black John, as he was 
 called. It was not only the diminution of his worldly 
 substance they lamented, but they felt that the most 
 respectable of their neighbours, one by one, dropped 
 off from their acquaintance with them ; and this, to 
 the sensitive nature of the Irish peasant, cuts deeper 
 than even want. Want, they are familiar with ; they 
 see it on every side, and they can bear it with patience : 
 but the social virtues flourish amongst them in the 
 midst of barrenness, like the palms in the desert. 
 
 Amongst the friendships which had decayed was that 
 of the O'Mores. The widow loved her daughter too 
 well to give her to a disorderly, though a compara- 
 tively wealthy peasant, as Shan Regan was when he 
 asked Mary O'More for his wife ; and Mary herself 
 had an intuitive dislike for all that was gross, which 
 revolted from Regan's brutal nature. Rory, though 
 he knew him not as a friend at any period, for the 
 men were too unlike each other ever to have associated 
 closely, yet always had recognised him as an old 
 acquaintance whenever they met } but he never 
 
128 Rory 0' More 
 
 sought his company for Rory, though as full of 
 fun, as fond of mirth, and loving his glass, his joke, 
 and a pretty girl, as much as every Irishman ought to 
 do, yet he reverenced the decencies of life too much 
 to be a drunkard, a buffoon, or a debauchee. His 
 acquaintanceship with Regan might have gone on, as 
 far as Rorv was concerned, just the same, quite unin- 
 fluenced by his sister's refusal ; but not so with the 
 rejected one. He considered the part Mary had taken 
 as a family affront : his pride (such as it was) was 
 wounded more than his heart ; or rather, it was his 
 love for himself, and not for the girl, that suffered 
 most. So he made a feud of the business, and in- 
 cluded Rory amongst his foes. To this he was the 
 more inclined, as he suspected Conolly, who was a 
 sworn friend of O'More's, to be his rival. 
 
 From all these circumstances, it is no wonder that 
 Rory was startled at seeing Regan at such a time : 
 but as he could not help himself, he determined to 
 affect composure, which he was the better able to 
 accomplish, as he had time to recover from his sur- 
 prise before his presence was manifest to Regan. 
 The scene that had occurred in the morning, too, 
 rendered him the more anxious to conciliate, and with 
 a sincere wish to overcome the coolness that Regan 
 had lately observed towards him, he advanced to him 
 with open hand and greeted him kindly. It was 
 obvious, from the expression that passed over 
 Regan's face, that the meeting was quite as startling 
 and disagreeable to him as it had been to Rory, who 
 continued still, however, the offer of his hand, and 
 repeated his words of kindly recognition. A cold 
 reply was all that followed, though the hand was 
 accepted : but there was no sympathy in the contact ; 
 the touch of friendship was wanting, that touch 
 whose sensation is so undefinable, but so well under- 
 
Rory O'More 129 
 
 stood, that natural freemasonry which springs from 
 and is recognised by the heart. 
 
 As soon as the light was struck, a lamp was lighted 
 in a ship-lantern that hung from the low roof of the 
 cellar over a coarse table round which benches of a 
 rude construction were placed. Another person as 
 well as Regan was present in addition to the three 
 Rory had followed from the public-house; and this 
 man seemed more familiar with De Welskein than 
 any of the others, and sometimes addressed him in 
 French. Round the cellar were some coils of rope ; 
 a couple of hammocks were hung in one corner; two 
 
 or three kees and some rolls of tobacco were stowed 
 
 o 
 
 away under a truckle-bed in another quarter of the 
 den ; and in a rude cupboard, coarse trenchers and 
 drinking-cans were jumbled together, with some stone 
 jars of a foreign aspect. After some bustle, pipes 
 and tobacco were laid on the table, the stone bottles 
 and the drinking vessels were taken from the cup- 
 board, and De Welskein invited Rory to sit down 
 beside him. 
 
 " Combe, you sair sect down here someting 
 for you to drink not nastee, like pobelick-house, 
 bote goot ha, ha ! No doretee port ere, bote bran- 
 dee ver goot and nussing to pay." 
 
 All the men sat down, and sending the stone jars 
 from man to man, the cans were charged with 
 brandy, slightly diluted with water from a black 
 pitcher; pipes were lighted, smoking and drinking 
 commenced, and while a desultory conversation was 
 kept up among the rest of the party, De Welskein 
 questioned Rory as to the cause of his being the 
 messenger to him. Rory made him acquainted with 
 De Lacy's illness, and the circumstances that led to 
 his being his guest ; in all of which communica- 
 tion the person who spoke French assisted in mak- 
 VOL. i. 9 
 
130 Rory 'More 
 
 ing De Welskein and Rory intelligible to each other. 
 This was no very easy matter sometimes ; the 
 Frenchman's English bothering Rory uncommonly, 
 as his name did also. However, as it was necessary 
 he should drink to the founder of the feast, he was 
 obliged to make an offer at his name, and so he 
 boldly took his can of grog in his hand and with his 
 best bow said, 
 
 " Here 's to your good health, Mr. Wilkison." 
 
 A laugh followed at Rory's expense, in which the 
 Frenchman only half joined, for it has already been 
 noticed that his name was matter of anxiety to him ; 
 so as soon as the laugh had subsided, he said, 
 
 " No, no ! not dat my nem ; De Welskein." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir but would you say that 
 agin, if you plaze ? " 
 
 The Frenchman now slowly and distinctly pro- 
 nounced his name, giving the w the sound of the <y, 
 which it assumes in Dutch names, and repeated, 
 " De-Velskeen." 
 
 "Thank you, sir," says Rory, "I ax your 
 pardon, and again I say, Here is to your good health, 
 Mr. Devilskin." 
 
 A roar of laughter followed this mistake of Rory's, 
 and all swore that that was the best name of all the 
 others he enjoyed : but the Frenchman did not like 
 it, and said impatiently, using his own language, 
 as a foreigner generally does when he becomes 
 excited, 
 
 " Non, non, non, man ami ' Devilskeen ! non ; 
 c'est l Poll-de-diable ! ' Sacr'e quel nom ! l Poit- 
 de-diable ! ' you say not dat. Pierre," said he, ad- 
 dressing his friend who spoke French, "faites-lui 
 comprendre mon nom pas De IVehkein, parceque c'est 
 trap difficile, mats St. Foix." 
 
 " Ou Sans-peur" said Pierre. 
 
Rory O'More 131 
 
 The Frenchman nodded assent and said, " Bon" 
 The compliment appeased him. 
 
 Pierre now told Rory to address De Welskein by 
 the favourite name of Sans-peur ; but this was as 
 difficult to Rory as the other, and the nearest ap- 
 proach he could make to it was " Scamper." This 
 he varied sometimes into " Sampler," or " Sand- 
 paper," as luck would have it. . 
 
 While the drinking and smoking proceeded, De 
 Welskein told Rory of the intended expedition from 
 the Texel ; and when he had given him all the 
 verbal instruction he thought requisite, he entrusted 
 him with the letter to De Lacy from General 
 Hoche. 
 
 " Tare an' ouns ! " said Rory ; " is it the rale 
 Gineral Hoche ? " for Hoche's name and reputation 
 were well known in Ireland. 
 
 " Out" said De Welskein. 
 
 " What do you mane by we ? It 's not uz at all 
 I 'm axin' about ; but I want to know, is this letther 
 from the rale gineral ? " 
 
 " Certanlee ! out" 
 
 " Augh ! what is he sayin' we for ? " said Rory, 
 turning to Pierre, who was grinning at Rory's mis- 
 takes and the Frenchman's impatience. 
 
 " He means, yes," said Pierre : '"out means yes." 
 
 " Oh ! I ax your pardon, Mr. Sandpaper; then 
 this is the rale gineral's letther ! Oh ! to think that 
 I 'd ever see the proud day that I 'd have a letther of 
 Gineral Hoche's in my fist ! " and he kissed it with 
 rapture. 
 
 The Frenchman cried " Sacre ! " and laughed at 
 his enthusiasm ; and Rory proceeded, 
 
 " And will we see the gineral here, Mr. Scraper ? " 
 
 " Me fraid no ! " said De Welskein ; and he 
 shook his head mysteriously and made a grimace. 
 
132 Rory 0' More 
 
 " What do you mane ? " said Rory. 
 
 " Me fraid he die." 
 
 " Is it Gineral Hoche die ! arrah, an' what 
 would he die for ? " 
 
 " Me tsinks he get vaut you call gunstump." 
 
 Gun what ? " 
 
 u He as got de gunstump in him." 
 
 " God keep us ! " says Rory, " think o' that ! 
 And where is it in him, sir ? " 
 
 " Inside, into his boddee." 
 
 " Oh ! murdher, my poor fellow ! to have the 
 stump of a gun stickin' in him ! " 
 
 "No, no, de gun not stick in him you mistak : 
 it is vaut I vood say, dat he has de ticklehine." 
 
 " What is it he says about ticklin' ? " said Rory 
 to Pierre, who only grinned and enjoyed the mutual 
 mistakes of the Frenchman and the Paddy. 
 
 " Mai a la poitrine" said De Welskein. 
 
 " That 's thrue, 'faith," said Rory. " If he 's so 
 bad as that, his only dipindince is in the Padhereens, 
 sure enough." 
 
 Peter (or Pierre) now laughed outright at Rory's 
 blunder, which must be explained. Padhereens is the 
 name the Irish give to their beads, upon which they 
 count the number of Paters (or Pathers) they repeat, 
 and hence the name Padhereens; and Rory very 
 naturally came to the conclusion, that if a man was 
 at the point of death, which Rory conceived to be 
 most likely when he had the ''stump of a gun stickin 
 in him" the best thing he could do would be to say 
 his prayers. 
 
 De Welskein saw there was a mystification go- 
 ing forward ; so he said to Pierre, " Expliquez 
 done / " 
 
 u What he says is," said Pierre, u that the general 
 has a consumption." 
 
Rory 0" More 133 
 
 " Ah ! I forgess de terminaison ; gunstumpsion, 
 yais, dat is raight ! gunstumpsion." 
 
 " Oh, murdher ! " said Rory : " if we had him 
 here, we would cure him intirely." 
 
 " Comment? " said the Frenchman. 
 
 " Oh, it 's common enough in this country, in- 
 deed," said Rory. "The finest thing in the world 
 for consumption is goat's milk, made into whay." 
 
 "Ah, yais, ghost's milk ver goot." 
 
 " Goat's milk, I say," says Rory. 
 
 " Yais, yais, I oonderstan'," said the Frenchman 
 with great complacency : " Ghost's milk." 
 
 " ' Faith it 's ghost's milk he '11 be takin', I 'm 
 afeard, sure enough," said Pierre, laughing at De 
 Welskein's mistake. 
 
 " Oh, murdher!" said Rory, "and isGineral Hoche 
 goin' to die ? Oh, thin that is the murdher ! " l 
 
 So, Rory, in the idiom of his language, unintention- 
 ally expressed what was in fact the fate of the gallant 
 Hoche. 
 
 A tap at the door of the cellar announced a fresh 
 arrival ; and after some signals given, the door was 
 opened, and some other men entered, and, at short in- 
 tervals after, a few girls. Some of the latter were 
 good-looking, though with a certain expression of 
 boldness and recklessness that Rory did not admire. 
 Rory had enough of imagination and sentiment to 
 render the society of the softer sex always matter of 
 delight to him ; but there was something in the man- 
 ner of these girls he did not like. 
 
 " You see," said De Welskein, " de leddees mek 
 visite to me." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Rory, who did not know how, 
 very well, to answer this appeal. 
 
 " But you no dreenk." 
 
 * This expression means " that is the pity." 
 
134 Rory O'More 
 
 " Thank you, sir, I 'm doin' very well." 
 
 " You no like brandee ? " 
 
 " 'Faith, it 's iligant stuff it is ! But you know, 
 Mr. Sandpaper, that enough is as good as a faist." 
 
 " If you no like brandee, give you wine." 
 
 Rory refused the offer ; but one of the girls ad- 
 dressed De Welskein, and thanking him for his offer, 
 said, "if he'd make a big jug o' the nice thing he 
 gave them the other night ? " 
 
 Pierre explained to him that some of the ladies 
 would like negus, because they thought it genteel. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the Frenchman, u yais, my dear, cer- 
 tainement, you moste have your leetle niggers : vouds 
 you like to have some nutmarks een it ? " 
 
 " What do you say, Mr. Whelpskin ? " said the 
 girl, simpering. . 
 
 11 Vouds you like nutmarks ? " 
 
 Pierre came to the rescue. " He says, would you 
 like to have your jug o' negus made with nutmegs ? 
 my darling." 
 
 "Any way Mr. Whelpskin plazes." 
 
 " So it 's not too wake" says another. 
 
 " A dash o' sper'ts through it will make it livelier, 
 sir," said the most audacious of the party. And ac- 
 cordingly a large jug of niggers, with nutmarks and 
 the dash o' sper'ts, was made. A fiddler, in some 
 time, made his appearance ; and after the first jug of 
 niggers had been demolished, a dance was set on foot. 
 One of the ladies asked Rory to " stand up on the 
 flure," which, of course, Rory did, and exerted him- 
 self to the utmost to do credit to his dancing-master. 
 In short, Rory, though he did not like the party, had 
 intuitively too much savoir vivre to let any repug- 
 nance he might entertain be manifested. He drank, 
 to be sure, sparingly ; and after the niggers was in- 
 troduced, he took no more brandy-and-water : he 
 
Rory 'More 135 
 
 smoked an occasional pipe, and danced "like any 
 thing," but he kept himself clear of intoxication, 
 though he had drunk enough to produce exhilaration. 
 Dance after dance succeeded ; and Rory displayed so 
 much elasticity of limb, that it excited the admiration 
 even of De Welskein. One of Rory's partners 
 seemed much taken with him ; and after a certain 
 jig they had executed, much to their mutual honour 
 and the admiration of the beholders, the fair danseuse 
 sat beside him so close, as not to admit of any doubt 
 that she rather admired him. A cessation to the 
 dancing now took place, and brandy-and-water and 
 niggers ad infinitum was the order of the day or 
 rather the night. A song was next called for from 
 the girl who sat beside Rory ; and after a proper 
 quantity of hemming and hawing, and protestations 
 that she was very hoarse, she sang with a good voice, 
 whose natural sweetness seemed to have been ren- 
 dered coarse by exposure to weather, the following 
 song : 
 
 Oh ! if all the young maidens was blackbirds and thrishes, 
 Oh ! if all the young maidens was blackbirds and thrishes, 
 Oh ! if all the young maidens was blackbirds and thrishes, 
 It's then the young men would be batin' the bushes. 
 
 Oh ! if all the young maidens was ducks in the wather, 
 Oh ! if all the young maidens was ducks in the wather, 
 Oh ! if all the young maidens was ducks in the wather, 
 It's then the young men would jump in and swim afther. 
 
 Oh ! if all the young maidens was birds on a mountain, 
 Oh ! if all the young maidens was birds on a mountain, 
 Oh ! if all the young maidens was birds on a mountain, 
 It 's then the young men would get guns and go grousin'. 
 
 If the maidens was all throut and salmon so lively, 
 If the maidens was all throut and salmon so lively, 
 If the maidens was all throut and salmon so lively, 
 Oh ! the divil a one would ate mate on a Friday. 
 
136 Rory 0' More 
 
 Loud applause followed this charming lyric, during 
 the singing of which the damsel cast sundry sly 
 glances at Rory, who could not mistake that she was 
 making love to him. Rory was a handsome fellow, 
 and was as conscious as most handsome fellows are, 
 that there is a certain readiness on the part of the 
 softer sex to be affected by good looks but this 
 rather open manifestation of it embarrassed him. To 
 repel a woman was what his nature would not per- 
 mit him to do; yet to yield to the species of tempta- 
 tion that was offered to him was what his heart for- 
 bade. 
 
 The revel had proceeded now for some hours, and 
 great licence was exhibited on the part of all. Rory's 
 partner still clung to him with a degree of seductive- 
 ness that might have influenced him at another time ; 
 but now the unholy spell was powerless. He had 
 that morning won the plighted troth of his Kathleen, 
 and the bare thought of being faithless to her was 
 profanation. He thought of her sweet song, even in 
 defiance of the scraping of the tipsy fiddler, who still 
 stimulated the drunken party to stagger through the 
 dance ; and above the reeking steams of punch and 
 tobacco rose the sweet odour of the breath of the 
 cows and the morning flowers to his memory : the 
 recollection was his salvation. 
 
 Oh ! what of earthly influence can so fortify the 
 heart of man against the seductions of vice as the 
 love of a virtuous woman ! 
 
 Let us pursue this scene no further : suffice it to 
 say, their brutal revelry had so far overcome the party, 
 that of all present, Rory O'More and his partner only 
 were thoroughly conscious of what was going forward. 
 When Rory saw there was none to oppose his retiring, 
 he drew the bolt of the door to depart : his tempting 
 partner made a last appeal to induce him to stay, and 
 
Rory 0" More 137 
 
 even threw her arms round his neck and kissed 
 him. 
 
 Rory's manhood rebelled for a moment ; but the 
 thought of Kathleen came over him, and in as sooth- 
 ing a tone as he could command, he said "Don't 
 blame me ; I 've a sweetheart that trusts to me, and 
 I must n't deceive the innocent girl ! " 
 
 The words " innocent girl " seemed to go through 
 the heart of the woman like a pistol-shot. She with- 
 drew her arms from Rory's neck, and hiding her 
 flushed face in her hands, burst into tears, and, throw- 
 ing herself on a bench, sobbed as though her heart 
 would break. 
 
 Rory looked on her with pity ; but, fearing to trust 
 himself to so softening an influence as a woman's 
 weeping, he rushed up the broken steps of the cellar, 
 and ran down the narrow alley until he had turned 
 its corner. He then paused a moment, to endeavour 
 to remember the way he had come, which had been 
 so intricate, that under the exciting circumstances in 
 which he had been led to the place and was leaving 
 it, it cannot be wondered his recollection was rather 
 misty ; so, taking the turn which chance suggested 
 when he ran from the alley, he threaded some lonely 
 lanes, treading as stealthily as his haste would permit ; 
 for an occasional gleam of light through a cracked 
 shutter or the chink of a door betokened that some 
 of the inhabitants of this ill-conditioned quarter were 
 still watchers; and from the specimen he had seen 
 of the company it afforded, he had no wish to en- 
 counter any more of its inmates. The sensation of 
 a freer atmosphere than that of the confined closes he 
 had been traversing now came upon him, and indi- 
 cated the vicinity of a more open space ; and facing 
 the current of air that streamed up the lane, he soon 
 arrived in what appeared to him to be the high street 
 
138 Rory 0" More 
 
 of the town. Here all was empty, dark, and silent, 
 except for the splashing of the rain from the spouts 
 of the houses, and Rory was obliged again to pause, 
 for he knew not which way to turn, as he had made 
 his way from the alley by a route different from that 
 by which he entered, and he was consequently in a 
 street he had never seen before, in a town to which 
 he was a stranger. 
 
 He stood for some minutes, unmindful of the tor- 
 rent of rain that was falling, quite absorbed in the 
 consideration of what he should do. It was late, and 
 he doubted whether at such an hour he would be 
 likely to get admittance to a place of abode for the 
 night; besides, he did not know where to find it ; and 
 it struck him that the only course left him was to 
 make the best of his way out of the town, and pro- 
 ceed homewards. This, to be sure, was a heavy 
 task to impose on himself, for he had not taken any 
 rest since he left his own house ; he had traversed a 
 considerable tract of country, and to go over the 
 same ground again without the intervention of sleep 
 was what even so active a fellow as Rory O'More 
 did not relish the contemplation of. Therefore the 
 decision he came to at last was, to leave the matter 
 to chance ; if in his passage through the town he 
 saw any place that promised him shelter, to ask for 
 it ; and if not, to start direct for home. 
 
 His resolve being taken, he wrapped his frieze-coat 
 about him for he now noticed that it did rain 
 rather heavily and walked at a smart pace up the 
 length of street that lay before him. He had not 
 proceeded far when the fall of many footsteps at- 
 tracted his attention ; and from the heavy and 
 measured tread, it was plain that a party of soldiers 
 was in his neighbourhood. He stopped and held his 
 breath j the party was evidently getting nearer; he 
 
Rory O'More 139 
 
 had no right to be abroad at that hour, for the curfew 
 law had been revived of late. He thought of the 
 letter he had in his possession, and death to himself, 
 and discovery of the plot flashed upon his imagina- 
 tion. To tear the letter suggested itself to him ; but 
 then, it might contain intelligence of importance : to 
 preserve it therefore was desirable ; yet to have it 
 found, destruction. What was to be done ? 
 
 Listening intensely to ascertain the quarter whence 
 the footsteps approached, he was soon sensible that 
 the party advanced from the point towards which he 
 was moving : therefore, trusting to the darkness of 
 the night and the lightness of his heels, Rory turned 
 about, and with that peculiar agility of step so char- 
 acteristic of his countrymen, he ran lightly down the 
 street. As he advanced towards the end of it, he 
 perceived there was a wider space beyond it ; and 
 knowing the shade of the houses favoured his escape, 
 and still hearing the footsteps following him, he 
 dreaded that the moment he should emerge from the 
 street into the open space, he should be seen. While 
 this thought occurred to him, he perceived, a few 
 steps in advance of him, a large old-fashioned pro- 
 jecting porch, whose clumsy columns and deep recess 
 suggested at once the idea of concealment : so, turn- 
 ing sharply up two or three steps, he became en- 
 sconced in the door-way, drawing himself up closely 
 behind one of the columns. 
 
 As the footsteps advanced, Rory could hear the 
 rattling of fire-arms mingling with the heavy tramp 
 of the men. His anxiety was at its height when he 
 saw the party just before the door : " Another in- 
 stant," thought he, " and the danger 's past ! " when, 
 to his consternation, the sudden exclamation of 
 " Halt ! " brought the file of men to a dead stand- 
 Still within a few feet of his place of concealment. 
 
140 Rory 'More 
 
 He now thought it was all over with him : he ex- 
 pected to be dragged from his hiding-place every 
 instant, brought before the military authorities, and 
 the letter he bore about him being inevitably found, 
 hanged at the drum-head for a rebel. He heard 
 some mysterious mutterings of the corporal, and 
 immediately after, the clattering of a couple of 
 bayonets, he fancied them already in his body. 
 But still he remained unmolested, though the file of 
 men yet stood before him : Rory scarcely dared to 
 respire. 
 
 It happened that this house, within whose porch 
 he had taken refuge, was inhabited by the colonel of 
 the regiment then quartered in the town. It stood 
 at the corner of an open and irregular space, called 
 " the Green," where some houses were scattered 
 round a piece of dirty grass, and geese and pigs used 
 to promenade during the day, and the belles of the 
 town in the evening, to hear the band play, and let 
 the officers stare them out of countenance. The bar- 
 rack lay at the upper end of the street ; but the quar- 
 ters were so indifferent, that the colonel preferred 
 taking up his residence in this house, which was re- 
 moved from the barrack, it is true ; but, to increase 
 his security, which the suspicious nature of the times 
 rendered it necessary, in his opinion, to look after, he 
 had two sentinels stationed there, conducing not 
 only to his safety, but to his consequence, of which 
 the colonel was not a little vain. The narrowness 
 of the foot-way before the house would have rendered 
 sentry-boxes inconvenient in front, therefore they 
 were placed round the corner ; and it was while the 
 corporal was employed in relieving the guard at the 
 flank of the house, that the file of soldiers remained 
 before the porch. 
 
 This was for some minutes for every body knows 
 
Rory O'More 141 
 
 that such matters must be conducted with that system 
 and solemnity so necessary to the good of the service. 
 
 To relieve the guard the corporal marches up one 
 of his men to face the sentinel on duty. These two 
 make a rattle with their firelocks and hold them in a 
 transverse position, which looks pretty ; then they 
 advance to each other with two long strides, and 
 stick their faces close together, to the manifest danger 
 of flattening their noses, the corporal standing by all 
 the time, as if to see that they should not bite each 
 other : another slap on their firelocks to rattle them ; 
 then the new-comer goes over to the sentry-box, and 
 the other takes his place : then the corporal utters 
 some mysterious grumblings such as " Haw ! " 
 " Who ! " the men throw their transverse muskets 
 upon their arms, as if they were going to nurse them : 
 another grunt from the corporal the relieved sen- 
 tinel joins the main body, the corporal puts himself at 
 their head, gives another mysterious growl, and tramp, 
 tramp, they go, again to perform the same interesting 
 and intellectual ceremony at another sentry-box, until, 
 having finished his rounds, the corporal marches back 
 into the guard-house twelve wet men, in lieu of twelve 
 dry ones that he took out. 
 
 While all this " pomp and circumstance of glorious 
 war " was going forward, Rory was in agony. No 
 image is sufficient to express the state of excitement 
 his impatient nature underwent during the interval 
 which he thought an age : a bee in a bottle, a school- 
 boy in his master's apple-tree, or a hen on a hot grid- 
 dle, are but faint figures of speech for the purpose. 
 Well was it for Rory that the rain continued to fall 
 so copiously ! the soldiers buried their faces deeply 
 inside the collars of their coats, and cast not a glance 
 towards the porch. Thus, the very inclemency of the 
 night was propitious to the refugee, who was startled 
 
142 Rory 0' More 
 
 once more, however, for a moment, by the return of 
 the corporal, which caused a movement amongst the 
 men. " They see me now," thought Rory to him- 
 self, and his heart sunk when he heard the words 
 "Fall in." 
 
 " Oh, murdher ! " thought Rory : " if they come 
 in, I 'm lost." 
 
 They did not " come in," however, and after an- 
 other growl from the corporal, which was unintelligi- 
 ble, the blessed sound of " March ! " fell on Rory's 
 ear with something of the same sensation that the 
 announcement of a reprieve produces on a prisoner 
 in the condemned cell ; and he saw the file execute a 
 " right-about-face," and go the way whence they 
 came. Every successive tramp that increased the 
 distance between Rory and the soldiers took a ton 
 weight off" his heart, and as the receding footsteps of 
 the men faded into distance he breathed freely again. 
 
 As soon as the silence was perfectly restored, Rory 
 thought of emerging from his place of retreat. Had 
 he been a person conversant with the relieving of 
 guards, he would have guessed that some such matter 
 must have been the cause of the scene just recorded ; 
 but living a rural life, as he did, such martial mysteries 
 were unknown to him, and while he congratulated 
 himself on being free from danger and contemplated 
 a retreat, he little dreamt that at the flank of the 
 house under whose porch he stood, a pair of sentinels 
 were on guard. So, when there was no sound to in- 
 dicate that any one save himself was on the watch 
 (for, it being still raining, the sentries on the flank 
 kept most religiously bound within their sentry-boxes 
 and small blame to them!), Rory thought he had 
 better be off, and ventured to withdraw his body from 
 the small space between the column and the wall into 
 which he had miraculously jammed himself: but in 
 
Rory 0" More 143 
 
 the doing of this, he was obliged, as it were, to jerk 
 himself out, and by some unlucky chance, either in 
 getting himself in or out, the cape of his coat caught 
 in a bell-pull, and in the effort to free himself he felt 
 that he was laid hold of by the shoulder, and heard at 
 the same instant of time the sound of a bell. Those 
 who have felt what it is to be in nervous situations 
 will not wonder that Rory's heart jumped as he felt 
 himself caught, and heard at the same moment a 
 sound whose very purpose is to awake attention. 
 And it was such a bell; none of your trifling tink- 
 lers, none of your little whipper-snapper sort of bells; 
 not like the bark of a Blenheim, but the bay of a 
 watch-dog ; not like a muffin-merchant's, but a dust- 
 man's ; not merely made to call Molly up stairs, 
 but one of your deep-mouthed devils, doomed to 
 destroy the repose of half a street ; in short, 
 
 " a dreadful bell, 
 
 To fright the isle from its propriety." 
 
 Rory stood aghast ! Had the metal that composed 
 this " infernal machine " been molten and cast down 
 his throat, it could not have astonished him more : 
 besides, it seemed as if it would never have done 
 ringing. We hear great complaints in our days of 
 bell-hangers ; but those of old, to judge from the 
 case in question, must have been prime hands, for 
 on it went, ding, ding, ding, as if it really had a 
 pleasure in ringing. Whether it was the specific 
 gravity of the monster that produced so much vivacity 
 in the spring on which it was suspended, or the su- 
 perior skill of former bell-hangers, may remain a 
 matter of dispute to the curious ; but the fact that 
 resulted (and facts are all we have to do with) is, 
 that ere the bell had ceased its villainous vibrations, 
 Rory heard a window raised above his head, and the 
 
144 Rory O'More 
 
 demand of "Who's there?" in no very gracious 
 voice. 
 
 Rory kept profoundly quiet. 
 "Who's there?" was again snarled out. 
 Rory looked up from the shelter of the porch and 
 saw a head and a nightcap protruded from the win- 
 dow: he was as quiet as a mouse. 
 
 " Sentry ! " was the next word Rory heard, given 
 in a most authoritative tone. 
 
 A gust of wind and a dash of rain whirled round 
 the corner, which must have convinced the colonel 
 (for it was he who was calling from the window) that 
 his voice could not have reached the sentinels in the 
 teeth of the blast which blew his nightcap off his head 
 and dashed it into Rory's face. 
 
 Rory was nearly knocked down, for the smallest 
 thing upsets us when we are alarmed. 
 
 11 Sentry ! " was shouted louder than before. 
 The soldiers answered the summons. The colonel 
 asked who rang the bell : the sentries did not know. 
 " You have been asleep ! " said the colonel. 
 " No, your honour," said the sentry, " we could n't ; 
 the guard has been but just relieved ! " 
 " Have you seen no one passing ? " 
 " No, your honour, no one passed at this side ; 
 and we marched down the other street not five 
 minutes ago and not a living soul was in it." 
 " Then what could have rung the bell ? " 
 " 'T was only a mistake, sir," said Rory, whose 
 excitement had been wound to such intensity, that 
 his eagerness to satisfy the question overlooked the 
 consequence to his personal safety in the sound of 
 his voice being heard ; but the instant he had spoken, 
 he said to himself, " The d 1 cut the tongue out of 
 you, Rory ! " 
 
 Fortunately the gusts of wind and splashing of rain 
 
Rory O'More 145 
 
 rendered all sounds, and the points whence they came, 
 uncertain. Nevertheless, the colonel looked towards 
 the porch ; but seeing no one, he said to the sentry, 
 " What 's that you say about a mistake ? " 
 
 " No, your honour, I don't mistake," said the 
 sentry, who was equally uncertain with the colonel if 
 any third person had spoken, and fancied he had been 
 charged with making a mistake. 
 
 " Did n't you say something of a mistake ? " asked 
 the colonel in one of the pauses of the storm. 
 
 " No, your honour," said the sentry. 
 
 Just at this moment, when Rory was thinking if 
 he had n't better make a run for it at once, he heard 
 the bolt of the door behind him gently drawn, and the 
 instant after, a pluck at his coat, and a whispered 
 " Come in," made him turn round. He saw the door 
 stand ajar, and a hand beckon him forward, at the 
 same moment that the voice of the colonel from 
 the window said, " See if there 's any one hiding in 
 the porch." 
 
 Rory slipped inside the hall-door, which was softly 
 closed as the sentry walked up the steps. 
 
 " There 's no one here, your honour," said the 
 sentry. 
 
 " Push the door," said the colonel. 
 
 The sentry did so ; but the door had been fastened 
 on the inside. 
 
 VOL. i. 10 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 SHOWING THAT ONE HALF OF THE WORLD DOES 
 NOT KNOW HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES ; AND 
 ALSO, THAT SOFT WORDS CAN BEND HARD IRON, 
 THOUGH THEY DO NOT BUTTER PARSNIPS 
 
 VERY much about the time that Rory O'More 
 rushed from the cellar and endeavoured to 
 make his way out of the town, there was an old 
 tinker, driving an ass before him, making his way into 
 it. From the rudely constructed straddle of the sorry 
 animal, three or four rusty old kettles, and a budget 
 containing the implements of the tinker's trade, de- 
 pended ; but the straddle was worth more than it 
 looked good for, for the tinker had so contrived 
 the pannels of the lumbering affair, that a convenient 
 space was left within for stowing away tobacco, 
 which he bought from Monsieur De Welskein, and 
 sold at a handsome profit to the peasantry, during his 
 wandering among them for they could get none so 
 good or so cheap through the legitimate channel : 
 besides, they were glad to give a helping hand to the 
 old tinker, whose poverty and shrewdness commanded 
 at once their pity and their fear. 
 
 It may seem strange to class these two feelings 
 together but they often exist. They say u Pity is 
 akin to love ; " but it is equally true that u Love is 
 related to fear : " and thus, perhaps, a sort of col- 
 lateral relationship may be established between them. 
 I should not have made any observation on this, 
 
Rory O'More 147 
 
 but that I do not remember seeing it remarked else- 
 where, and when one advances any thing new, it is 
 common even to oneself to be startled at it, and a 
 desire is at once engendered to make it manifest that 
 one has not committed an absurdity. 
 
 Now, I remember well, when a child, that I was 
 often horrified by the presence of a certain old and 
 disgusting beggarman ; yet I constantly gave him 
 alms. There was something in that old man I 
 dreaded ; and yet I remember, even to this day, I 
 pitied him. To be sure, the virtue of charity had 
 been early instilled into my mind by one who now, I 
 trust, in heaven enjoys the reward of her goodness ; 
 and so gracious and winning is the habit of doing 
 charity's holy offices, that even to the innocent child, 
 on whom neither want nor reason can have impressed 
 the value of the virtue he is taught, there is something 
 pleasant in the timorous dropping of a halfpenny from 
 its pure and dimpled fingers into the soiled and 
 withered palm of age : as if Heaven had preordained 
 that no weakness or antipathy of our nature should 
 interfere with the sacred duty ; a duty so sacred, 
 that even our Lord himself made its beauty the theme 
 of a parable, and reproved the intolerant Jew with 
 the mild precept of " Go thou and do likewise." 
 
 Solomon, for that was the tinker's name, was pitied 
 and feared ; for he seemed to be poor, and was known 
 to be penetrating. He had a prying temper and a 
 tenacious memory. The former led him to a knowl- 
 edge of the circumstances of most of the people of 
 all classes in the country where he made his rounds, 
 and the latter treasured up the information. Thus 
 the past and present were alike familiar to him ; and 
 from these, his natural acutenesswas often enabled to 
 presage the future. 
 
 Such a power, in the uncalculating community 
 
148 Rory O'More 
 
 amongst whom he moved, gave him a reputation little 
 short of witchcraft. He was called "a mighty 
 knowledgeable man," and "knowledge is power;" 
 and where did human power ever exist, that its in- 
 fluence has not been dreaded and its possession abused ? 
 This was fully exemplified in the case of the old 
 tinker, he was feared, not loved, by the peasantry ; 
 and yet, though no one liked him, there was, from a 
 dread of offending, all the demonstrations of civility 
 shown him that love would have procured. The 
 tinker was quite aware of the position he held, and 
 of its cause ; and his bitterness (for he was bitter) 
 enjoyed the triumph of forcing these pretended testi- 
 monies of affection, and he laughed at this perjury of 
 the heart. " Hypocrisy is the homage that vice pays 
 to virtue." How often is a smile the tribute that 
 fear pays to power ! 
 
 Nevertheless, with this dread it may almost be 
 said, dislike that he inspired, he was pitied, from 
 his apparent wretched and desolate condition. Home 
 he had none, nor living thing with whom he held 
 continued companionship, except the poor ass he 
 drove, whose food was a nibble from the road-side, 
 unless when it was bestowed by the same friendly 
 hand that gave food to his master for Solomon 
 never paid for any thing except what he traded on. 
 The love of money ruled him with a power stronger 
 than that by which he ruled his fellow men ; and 
 though he possessed the superior acuteness that gov- 
 erned intelligent creatures, he was himself the sense- 
 less slave of an inanimate metal. He was a miser, 
 a miser in the fullest sense of the word ; not lov- 
 ing money for the sake of what money can procure, 
 but loving it for its own sake worshipping the 
 mere thing : to him a guinea was a god. To such a 
 wretch, to starve was easier than to pay ; therefore 
 
Rory 'More 149 
 
 he never tasted food except it was given to him : and 
 even on these terms he seldom wanted, for he laid 
 the country under contribution, from the kitchen of 
 the squire to the peasant's pot of potatoes. With all 
 this, he was stealthy and roguish as a fox, tortuous 
 and treacherous as a snake secret, cold, and greedy 
 as the grave. 
 
 Yet, with the characteristic touch of fun that per- 
 vades every thing Irish, this hateful old miscreant had 
 a comical name bestowed on him ; he was called 
 " Sawdhering Solomon," from his profession of tinker : 
 and this was the name' he commonly went bv, 
 though sometimes it was changed for " Solomon Sly." 
 Neither of these names was meant, of course, to 
 reach bis ears ; but he was made cognisant of them 
 by means of the little boys, who hated him openly, 
 and who shouted the name after him when they were 
 quite sure of being out of the reach of the old tinker's 
 crooked stick : and sometimes the urchins ventured 
 so far even as to throw stones or clods at him when 
 they had the ambuscade of a hedge and the interven- 
 tion of a ditch to screen and protect them. On these 
 occasions, Solomon might get a whack on the back 
 from a stone, or have a dry clod judiciously lobbed 
 under his ear, powdering his wig with all the breaking 
 particles of earth that did not run down between his 
 clothes and his back. Then would he turn round to 
 strike with his stick ; but the retiring laugh and foot- 
 steps of children at the other side of the hedge, were 
 all that were manifest to Solomon: and then would 
 the old vagabond grin and shake his stick with the 
 expression of a fiend, and utter horrible curses on the 
 thoughtless urchins. And though the provocation 
 was unjustifiable, it is true, yet there is something 
 abhorrent in the idea of age cursing childhood, par- 
 ticularly as the vindictive old tinker used to curse. 
 
150 Rory O'More 
 
 It was about the time that Rory O'More was leav- 
 ing the cellar, that Solomon, I say, was making his 
 way into the town, at whose outskirts he made a 
 detour from the high road and drove his ass up a little 
 lane, at the end of which there was a small baggartj 
 whose fence was only a low wall of loose stones and 
 some furze-bushes. Solomon very coolly abstracted 
 some stones, pulled away some of the furze, and 
 made a way for his ass to enter the haggart, where, 
 placing him between two small stacks of hay, he 
 procured shelter and provender for the poor brute. 
 He then lifted the straddle and his old kettles from 
 the ass's back, and withdrew from the premises, 
 carrying his goods to some distance, where, under a 
 hedge, he let them lie ; and marking the spot well, 
 he proceeded alone to the town, and made for the 
 cellar of the smuggler. 
 
 It was only in his capacity of smuggler that De 
 Welskein held any communication with the tinker. 
 Solomon, though he guessed that an extensive con- 
 spiracy was on foot, yet, wise as he was, he did not 
 know any individual engaged in it, for none would 
 trust him to belong to the Union, and those who 
 engaged in it kept the secret inviolate, singularly 
 so indeed, for in all the thousands who had sworn, 
 there was but one found to betray, and he entered 
 the confederation for the very purpose. 
 
 When the unfortunate girl whom Rory had left 
 sobbing in the cellar had recovered her outbreak of 
 grief, she arose from the bench on which she had 
 flung herself in her passion of tears, and the feeling 
 that had possessed her heart changed from lawless 
 love to bitter hate for 
 
 " Hell has no fury like a woman scorn'd ; " 
 1 Hay-yard. 
 
Rorj O'More 151 
 
 and cursing the man that had made her feel such 
 degradation, she quitted the den of riot and iniquity, 
 leaving the beastly revellers sunk in besotted dumber. 
 When Solomon, therefore, reached the cellar and 
 tapped stealthily at the door, he received no answer. 
 On knocking again more loudly, the door yielded to 
 his touch, and pushing it gently open, he looked cau- 
 tiously into the cellar. He saw a dim lamp, over- 
 turned drin king-vessels, and prostrate figures, and 
 heard the heavy snoring of drunken sleep, He ad- 
 vanced noiselessly, and looked carefully about ; and 
 when he found that deep and real slumber reigned 
 around him, he cast about his searching eyes, and his 
 heart (if he had such a thing) was gladdened at the 
 thought of being a gainer by the universal swinishness 
 in which his friends were buried. He stole softly 
 over to the truckle-bed under which the tobacco was 
 hid, and going on all-fours, he looked to see if there 
 was a roll of it within easy reach for the legs of 
 one of the sleepers hung over the side and made a 
 sort of barrier. 
 
 He crawled nearer, and, with the aid of his crooked 
 stick abstracted a parcel of the precious weed from its 
 place of concealment : and then, with the stealthi- 
 ness of a cat, he stole back to the door, which he 
 closed gently after him, and retreated with his booty. 
 
 Now, it was to buy tobacco that the tinker had 
 made his visit to De Welskein ; and he chuckled at 
 the thought of ge. ing the merchandise without the 
 transfer of coin, and hugged the roll of tobacco to 
 his heart with the passion of a lover. To re-cram 
 She pannel of his ass's straddle, and depart after his 
 exploit, was Solomon's first intention as he sneaked 
 back towards the haggart where his ass was commit- 
 ting robbery also : but another idea arose, and he 
 slackened his pace while he conned it over, and 
 
152 Rory O'More 
 
 on second thoughts he considered it more advisable 
 to make his visit to De Welskein, as it was about 
 the period that worthy knew he had intended calling, 
 and if the abstracted tobacco should be missed, his 
 unusual absence might direct suspicion against him, 
 as it was some time since Solomon had made a pur- 
 chase, and De Welskein knew that tobacco was 
 what Solomon could not do without. Therefore, 
 instead of going back to the haggart, he went to 
 a neighbouring lane where he knew the forge of 
 a blacksmith stood, and poking and scraping out 
 with his stick and hands a hole out of a heap of 
 cinders and ashes that stood near the door, he con- 
 cealed the treasure beneath it and returned to the 
 cellar. He knocked again, lest any of its inmates 
 might have awoke in the interval ; and rinding all 
 as silent as before, he entered, and approaching De 
 Welskein, he shook him by the shoulder till he 
 roused him, and said, 
 
 " One ud think you had nothing to be afeard iv, 
 when you sleep with the door open." 
 
 De Welskein rubbed his eyes, stared up at Solo- 
 mon, uttered a great many " Sacres" and " Diables" 
 and proceeded to awake the rest of the party and 
 demand the cause of the door being open,, They 
 were all bewildered, being still half drunk ; but after 
 much blustering and swearing, Rory O'More at last 
 was -missed, and also the girl with whom he had 
 been dancing. This was conclusive evidence of how 
 the circumstance had occurred, and De Welskein's 
 rage and abuse of Rory were furious. Regan, too, 
 threw in his word of censure ; and, amongst them 
 all, poor Rory had more foul words applied to him 
 than he ever had before in the same space of time. 
 
 " Who is that you 're blessin', all o' yiz ? " said 
 Solomon 
 
Rory O'More 153 
 
 "That scatthered-brained swaggerer Rory O'More," 
 said Regan. 
 
 " Rory O'More ! " said Solomon, who knew Rory's 
 habits were not likely to lead him into the disorderly 
 set ; " why, what brought him here ? " and he 
 looked sharply at De Welskein, as much as to say, 
 " There 's a mystery." 
 
 " Why, sare ? if you go for dat moche, what for 
 you come here ? ha ! " 
 
 " Oh, you know yourself, munseer," said Solomon, 
 " what brings me here ; but, " 
 
 " Well, sare," said De Welskein, interrupting him, 
 " and me know whas bring de osser gentlemans too : 
 das nuff for me nussing to you." 
 
 "Oh, don't be onaisy," said Solomon coolly " I 
 don't want to smoke your saycrets." 
 
 " No, G d n ! you old rog ! you not smok me, 
 you razzer smok my tabac." 
 
 Solomon looked towards the Frenchman, to see if 
 there was any meaning in his eye when he spoke of 
 his tobacco ; but he saw his secret was safe. The 
 Frenchman proceeded, 
 
 41 Dere ! you sect down you old rog vieux 
 cbaudronnier de campagne sect down, smoke your 
 tabac and dreenk, and nebber mind nussing else ! " 
 
 Solomon did as he was desired ; he took a pipe 
 and mixed a stiff glass of brandy-and-water, after 
 tossing off a couple of glasses pure, to warm his 
 heart, as he said himself, " afther the cruel wettin' 
 he got." 
 
 " Warm his heart indeed ! " said one of the men 
 aside : " 'faith, all the sper'ts in Ireland, and all the 
 turf in the Bog of Allen, would n't warm it." 
 
 De Welskein took Regan aside, and expressed 
 great displeasure against Rory for leaving him with- 
 out saying where De Lacy was to be found ; but 
 
154 Rory O'More 
 
 Regan set him at rest on that subject by telling him 
 he knew Rory's place of abode, and would conduct 
 him to it if he liked. This consoled the Frenchman 
 and he again lay down to sleep, requesting more care 
 might be taken about the door. Solomon continued 
 to smoke and drink until the approach of dawn, when 
 the man called Pierre let him out of the cellar, and 
 he went back to the haggart, having made the best 
 bargain he could for some tobacco, and getting his 
 pocket-pistol, as he called a tolerably capacious tin 
 flask, filled with brandy as a bonus for his " fating 
 sitch a power o' tabakky from them" as he said him- 
 self; and the equivoke gave poignancy to the 
 pleasure of his theft. 
 
 When he got back to the haggart, he abstracted 
 his ass from the haystack, which the ass seemed loath 
 to quit, and before retiring, the little beast made a last 
 desperate plunge into the hay, and dragged away 
 so large a mouthful, that it trailed after him all the 
 way from the stack to the gap where Solomon now 
 led him out, and the poor innocent haystack looked 
 very much in the condition of a hot loaf out of which 
 Master Tommy has had his wicked will. 
 
 Solomon replaced the stones and the furze-bush, 
 and led ofF his ass to the hedge where the straddle 
 was secreted : there he stuffed it with the purchased 
 tobacco (the stolen roll still lay where the tinker had 
 concealed it), and mounting his wallet and his kettles 
 on the back of the ass, he drove him away from the 
 field as soon as sunrise permitted him lawfully to 
 appear on the road. 
 
 What did he do then ? 
 
 He had the impudence to march up the lane that 
 led to the haggart, driving his ass before him and 
 crying loudly, " Pots, pans, and kittles to mind." 
 The ass turned a longing look towards the haggart, 
 
Rory O'More 155 
 
 and a whack from Solomon's stick was required to 
 remind him that tinkers' asses must not eat hay by 
 daylight. Solomon now approached the dwelling to 
 which the plundered haggart was attached, and found 
 the family awake and doing : the man went out to 
 work, and the woman, in answer to Solomon's re- 
 quest to know " if there was any pots, pans, and 
 kittles to mind," produced a certain tin saucepan, 
 with a demand to know " what would he take to 
 repair it? not that it wanted it much," she said, 
 " only, divil take it ! it put out the fire always when 
 it was put on, but did n't lake a great dale at all." 
 
 " Why, tare an' ouns, woman," cried Solomon, 
 holding up the vessel between him and the sky, 
 11 there 's a hole in it you could dhrive a coach 
 thro'. " 
 
 " Arrah, be aisy ! " says the woman. 
 
 " Look at it yourself," says Solomon, letting the 
 saucepan down. 
 
 A little child now popped his finger through the 
 hole, and waggling it backwards and forwards, said, 
 " Look, mammy ! " and grinned as if he had done 
 a very clever thing. 
 
 The mother gave him a box on the ear, calling 
 him " a divil " at the same time, and sent him yelping 
 away. 
 
 " 'Faith, that 's a 'cute child ! " said Solomon, 
 grinning a horrid smile ; " he 'd make an iligant 
 *inker, he sees a hole in a pot so well." 
 
 " The meddlin' cur ! " said the mother. " Well, 
 what '11 you put a bit o' sawdher an it for ? " 
 
 '' A bit o' sawdher, indeed ! " said Solomon. " Oh, 
 'faith, it 's a piece o' tin I must insart into it." 
 
 " Divil an insart," says the woman, "you'll insart 
 my saucepan, my good man ! Sawdher is all it wants 
 jist a weeshee taste o' sawdher." 
 
156 Rory 0' More 
 
 " Cock you up with my sawdher indeed ! ' '' said 
 Solomon ; " why, 't would take more than all the 
 sawdher I have to stop it. Sure, sawdher is as dear 
 as tin ; and rawzin 's riz." 
 
 " Arrah, why would rawzin be riz ? " 
 
 u There was sitch a power o' fiddlers to be at the 
 fair next week, that they bought all the rawzin up." 
 
 " Ah, go 'long wid you ! " 
 
 "It's thruth I'm tellin' you." 
 
 " Well, what will you take for the saucepan ? " 
 
 u I '11 mind it for fourpince." 
 
 "Fourpince! Oh, where do you expec' to go 
 when you die ? Fourpince indeed ! I '11 give you 
 tupp'ns." 
 
 " Could n't," says Solomon, shaking his head and 
 going to drive away the ass. 
 
 "Well, what will you say ? " said the woman. 
 
 u Well, see now," said Solomon, " I 'm tired with 
 thravelling a'most all night, and I 'm wantin' rest ; 
 and indeed I 'd be glad to sit down, if it was only to 
 rest, let alone doin' a job and airnin' a thrifle ; and 
 indeed I want it bad, for the times is hard ; and, so 
 God bless you, if you '11 jist throw in a thrifle o' 
 brequest into the bargain, and gi' me tupp'ns ha'pny, 
 I '11 make the saucepan as good as new." 
 
 "Well, I would n't be hard wid you, my poor man, 
 and so you may do it." 
 
 So down sat the tinker and opened his budget ; and 
 his iron was heated and his " sawdher " produced, not 
 forgetting the " rawzin " that was " riz ; " and bits 
 of old tin were produced from his budget, into which 
 the children looked with the most profound curiosity, 
 endeavouring to fathom the depth of its mysterious 
 treasures. Other bits of tin dazzled their longing 
 eyes, and a great shears seemed placed there to guard 
 the invaluable store from plunder. Solomon cut and 
 
Rory O'More 157 
 
 rasped and hammered away, and rubbing his hot 
 soldering-iron upon his powdered rosin and solder, he 
 raised so great a smoke and so bad a smell, that the 
 children looked on him as some wonderful conjuror; 
 and as they saw the bright streaks that his implement 
 produced wherever it was rubbed, their delight was 
 profound. 
 
 When the man of the house returned to breakfast, 
 he saw Solomon seated at the door mending the leaky 
 vessel, and his children standing round him in wonder, 
 and as soon as the job was done, Solomon was called 
 in to breakfast. 
 
 "What do you think?" said the husband to the 
 wife. 
 
 "What?" said she. 
 
 "That blackguard calf got over the wall o' the 
 haggart again last night and made a holy show o' the 
 hay-stack." 
 
 " Oh, you don't tell me so ! " said the wife. 
 
 " Luck to the lie in it ! " said the husband. 
 
 Solomon kept eating his breakfast with the most 
 profound indifference until the husband and wife had 
 exhausted their eloquence, and then he said, 
 
 "Them cawves is great rogues." 
 
 "Thedivil run a-huntin' with him fora calf! Oh, 
 wait 'till the next time I ketch him ! " 
 
 " Poor thing, poor thing!" said Solomon, tenderly. 
 " Sure, it 's nath'ral they 'd ate ! " 
 
 " 'Faith, he may be contint with his good grass I 
 think," said the man. 
 
 " Thrue for you thrue for you," said Solomon, 
 quietly : " but it 's remarkable how bowld some o' 
 them cawves is." 
 
 Breakfast was finished the job paid for the 
 wallet replaced on the ass amid the observation and 
 regret of all the children, who watched the eld tinker 
 
158 Rory 0* More 
 
 and saw him depart with sorrow as he drove his ass 
 down the lane, after getting a job and begging a 
 breakfast from the man he had robbed over- night. 
 
 Solomon now proceeded to the town, and went to 
 the forge beside which he had deposited the tobacco. 
 Here he had a plausible pretext to go, for the shoes 
 of the ass wanted to be looked to. On his arrival at 
 the forge, the smith was unoccupied, so there was 
 more time to spare for Solomon to make as hard a 
 bargain as he could for the execution of the job. 
 
 " Maybe you could let me make an exchange wid 
 you ? and if you would have any thing in the tinkerin' 
 line to do, sure I 'd do it for nothin' for you, if you 'd 
 do the ass for nothin'." 
 
 " Not a pot, nor pan, nor kittle have I," said the 
 blacksmith ; "I 'm a bachelor, and intind to stay so." 
 
 In the mean time he began to examine the ass's 
 shoes ; and the tobacco with which the straddle was 
 lined being so near his nose, the smith began to snuff, 
 and said at last, "Where the dickins is the tabakky ? " 
 
 Solomon who caught the sound of the first sniff the 
 smith had given, saw directly how matters stood, and 
 hastened to the rescue : he got close beside the ass, 
 and to the smith's inquiry he said, 
 
 " It 's here in my pocket, and mighty fine tabakky 
 it is, see. I got a bargain o' some from a friend 
 a while agon, and but don't mintion it if you 
 like I '11 share the bargain wid you, to the value of 
 a new set o' shoes for the baste." 
 
 u Gor ! that ud be a power o' tabakky ! " said the 
 smith. 
 
 " But it 's iligant tabakky," said Solomon. Pulling 
 from his pocket several yards of the material, wound 
 into a close ball, and popping it under the smith's 
 nose, he said, "What do you think of that, your 
 sowl ! " 
 
Rory O'More 159 
 
 " Faix, that Is tarein' tabakky, sure enough ! " 
 was the delighted smith's reply. 
 
 " Well, what do you say to a new set o' shoes for 
 the baste ? " said Solomon. 
 
 " I dunna," was the undecided answer. 
 
 " You know you '11 have the owld shoes in." 
 
 " To be sure I will," ' said the smith, u sure that 's 
 only nath'ral : but what good is a little ass's shoes ? " 
 
 " Oh, shoes is shoes," said Solomon. 
 
 " Why, tare alive ! they are wore as thin as a 
 sixpence." 
 
 " 'Deed, that is thrue," said Solomon, " for the 
 last set he had an him was from the finest smith in 
 Ireland : they wore powerful." 
 
 " Arrah, who 's that ? " said the workman, piqued 
 at the mention of the finest smith in Ireland, he him- 
 self not being the person meant. 
 
 " Why, who would it be but Brian Branagan ? " 
 said Solomon, who well knew that Brian Branagan 
 was the rival of the man who stood before him, and 
 living in the adjoining lane, but who had never made 
 shoes for the tinker's ass in his life. 
 
 This was a master-touch of Solomon, the smith 
 bristled directly for the palm of superiority. 
 
 "Why, thin, is it Branagan you say is the finest 
 smith in Ireland ? " 
 
 "Yis," said Solomon very quietly. 
 
 "Throth, then, it's little you know about it. 
 Branagan indeed ! The divil a bigger botch ever 
 dhruv a nail than the same Branagan : he a smith ! ! " 
 
 " Oh ! I don't purtend to know indeed," said 
 Solomon with an affected air of not wishing to offend, 
 at the same time laying hold of the halter of the ass. 
 u But he 's good enough for me, any how : good 
 mornin 5 kindly to you," said he, going 
 
 This was too much for the smith. 
 
160 Rory O'More 
 
 " Come back here, I tell you ! it 's I that '11 show 
 you what a set o' shoes is : Branagan indeed ! " 
 
 " Well, will you take what I said ? " said Solomon, 
 affecting not to care much whether the smith did or 
 not. 
 
 "Yis, yis, but never say the word Branagan to 
 me ! " Here he laid hold of his pincers, knife, and 
 hammer, and began to knock off the points of the 
 nails from each hoof, and pull off the ass's shoes 
 every drag he gave, which was with great vigour, 
 accompanied by a " hugh " and the exclamation of 
 " Branagan indeed ! ! " 
 
 " Had n't I better take off the sthraddle," said 
 Solomon. 
 
 "Ay, offwid it," said the smith. 
 
 So, Solomon took off the highly perfumed straddle 
 that was so near betraying him, and then filling the 
 smith's pipe, and his own too, w:":h some of the to- 
 bacco which he had s Id to the smith, he commenced 
 puffing away vigorously, that the smell of the lighted 
 weed might prevent the perfume of the dry being 
 noticed. 
 
 While the smith was engaged in shoeing the ass 
 inside the forge, Solomon had time to disengage the 
 roll of stolen tobacco from the heap of cinders where 
 he had concealed it, and hiding it in one of his old 
 kettles, he was quite at ease, and blew the bellows 
 for the smith while he heated the iron, or looked over 
 him at work with an air of delight, saying, as the 
 smith rasped up and finished his work, "Well, but 
 thim is the rale iligant shoes ! " 
 
 "You'll never talk o' Branagan agin, will you, 
 afther that ? " said the smith. 
 
 " Throth, an' I won't," said Solomon ; " and sure 
 it 's only an owld fool I was, up to this present time, 
 in thinkin' the like : but the owldher we grow, the 
 
Rory O'More i6r 
 
 more we larn. Sure, it 's a grate loss to me I did n't 
 know you sooner ! " 
 
 " Well, it 's never too late to mind," said the 
 smith. 
 
 " Thrue for you," said Solomon ; " nor to make, 
 aither." And so saying, he filled his pipe again from 
 the smith's tobacco, and wishing him good-morning, 
 off he went, having secured his plunder, and getting 
 a new set of shoes on his ass : so that he was now 
 ready for a long and prosperous round, through his 
 usual beat. 
 
 The smith idled the rest of that day, smoking at 
 his new stock of u 'bakky," drinking to quench his 
 thirst, and filling up the intervals by snapping his 
 fingers and crying, " That for Branagan ! " 
 
 VOL. I. II 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 " IN THE DARK ALL CATS ARE GREY." RORY 
 
 BECOMES POSSESSED OF AN IMPORTANT SECRET, 
 AND DISCLOSES ONE IN EXCHANGE 
 
 WHEN Rory O'More was admitted to the safe 
 side of the door, he felt the pressure of a 
 hand upon his arm, which he interpreted into the 
 meaning of " be quiet ; " and as it was Rory's own 
 opinion that, in his present circumstances, it was the 
 best thing he could do, he acquiesced. One thing 
 however he was sure of that it was a woman who 
 admitted him to the house, for he felt the soft breath- 
 ing of one of the gentle sex upon his cheek as he 
 stood motionless by the door beside his benefactress, 
 while they heard a few words passing between the 
 colonel and the sentinel, until the latter descended 
 the steps. 
 
 Immediately after, Rory heard the woman say 
 gently, " Come down, darlin' ! " and holding the 
 hand that was laid upon his arm, he followed his 
 conductress as softly as he could. They soon began 
 to descend some stairs, and before they had reached 
 the bottom of the flight, the sound of a bolt being 
 drawn was heard upstairs, and Rory's friend said in 
 a suppressed voice of terror, " Oh, murdher ! there 's 
 the colonel comin' down ! you must hide in the coal- 
 hole. Make haste, for the love o' God, or I 'm a 
 ruined woman ! here, here ! " and she dragged 
 Rory along while she spoke. " Get in there, as far 
 
Rory O'More 163 
 
 as ever you can, and hide yourself, or I dunna what 
 will become of the pair of us ! " 
 
 At the same time, she opened a door and pushed 
 Rory inside of it. He heard her footsteps retreat 
 lightly and rapidly. " More opening of doors ! " said 
 Rory to himself, as he scrambled over some coal and 
 slack, holding his arms extended to save his nose from 
 fracture ; and he found the coal vault extensive, for 
 it was some time before he was stopped by a wall. 
 As soon as he went as far as he could go, he crouched 
 down, keeping his face however turned towards the 
 point whence he entered, and he soon heard the de- 
 scending footsteps of the person he was taught to 
 believe was the colonel. The footsteps seemed to 
 ramble over a great space of flagged apartments, and 
 various doors squeaked on their hinges as they were 
 opened and shut in succession by the invisible peram- 
 bulant. At last Rory saw the glimmer of a light, 
 which grew stronger by degrees, until the door of the 
 cellar opened, and then -he saw a Don Quixote sort 
 of a man, with a candle in one hand and a drawn 
 sword in the other, poke his head in at the door of 
 the cellar, and holding the candle a yard before him, 
 say, " Is there any one here ? " 
 
 Rory knew better than to make any answer this 
 time, and having thrown the tail of his coat over his 
 head, leaving only a small peep-hole for his eyes, he 
 remained undistinguishable amidst the surrounding 
 gloom ; for the vault was so deep, the candle so dim, 
 the colonel so short-sighted, and Rory crouched so 
 low, that he quite defied observation. Despite his 
 dangerous situation, however, it was as much as Rory 
 could do not to laugh ; for the colonel, with his long 
 face, long candle, long body, long arms, long sword, 
 long legs, and short shirt, cut so ridiculous a figure, 
 that a man of more solid mood than Rory might have 
 
164 Rory O'More 
 
 been provoked to mirth. However, by good luck, 
 Rory did not laugh, though the colonel, a la Don 
 Quixote, continued to open his goggle eyes on the 
 gloom before him ; but he was startled from his fixed 
 observation by hearing a slip amongst the coal, which 
 drew forth a still fiercer demand of " Who 's there ? " 
 Upon this summons, Rory perceived, between him 
 and the light, a great cat cautiously crawl to the sum- 
 mit of the heap of coal, and, with a tail bristling to 
 the size of a sweeping brush, make a desperate rush 
 down the acclivity and dart between the colonel's legs. 
 The man of war actually jumped with alarm at the 
 suddenness of the surprise, and, as if ashamed of 
 being so frightened at such a cause, muttered spite- 
 fully, u D n the cat ! " He now retired from the 
 cellar, and went to wake (as he thought) the woman- 
 servant who let Rory in, and whose sleeping apart- 
 ment was in the basement story. Rory heard him 
 cry, "Betty!" no answer. "Betty!" again, 
 still silence preserved. " Betty ! " still louder than 
 before ; Rory heard a snort and a growl as if from 
 a suddenly-awakened person. 
 
 " Who 's that ? " said a female voice. 
 
 " Your master : have you heard any noise in the 
 house ? " 
 
 " Noise, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes, noise, have you heard any ? " 
 
 " No, sir : I have been in bed, sir, and asleep, 
 these three hours. I hope there 's nothing the 
 matther, sir ? " said Betty, with very honest seeming. 
 
 " I have been disturbed," said the colonel ; " and 
 I thought robbers had got into the house. I certainly 
 heard a noise." 
 
 " Oh, I dar say, sir," said Betty ; " 't was nothing 
 but the cat : he 's mightly throublesome and lively, 
 that cat is, and I forget to shut him up sometimes 
 
Rory 0' More 165 
 
 and I'm afeard he has been disturbing you, sir. 
 Oh dear, but I 'm sorry ! " 
 
 This was a good guess of Betty's ; for the colonel 
 having seen a cat, now retired, and Rory was once 
 more left in darkness. And now that the immediate 
 chance of discovery was removed, he began to con- 
 jecture by what extraordinary means he was let into 
 a house to which he was an utter stranger^ at the 
 moment he needed it most, and by a woman of whom 
 he knew no more than the man in the moon : her 
 name was Betty that was all the knowledge he ar- 
 rived at, and that he only knew from hearing the 
 colonel address her. 
 
 After the lapse of half an hour, Rory heard the 
 name of " Darby " whispered at the door of the cellar. 
 In equally gentle tone, he barely ventured to say, 
 rather huskily, " Iss." 
 
 " Come out, darlin' ; take care you don't rowl 
 down any of the big lumps o' coal." 
 
 Rory, profiting by the caution, got out with as 
 little noise as possible ; and coming in contact with 
 his female guide, he was led into an apartment, the 
 door of which was very cautiously locked by the 
 woman. 
 
 " Now we may spake more at our aise," said she. 
 " How are you, darlin' ? " 
 
 " Indeed I 'm throubled with a mighty bad cowld," 
 said Rory, who thought this the best thing he could 
 say whereby to account for the husky tone in which 
 he spoke, that his natural voice might not betray the 
 mistake which had so far favoured him. 
 
 " Oh, but your voice is gone intirely, Darby 
 darlin' ! " says the woman : " but here 's somethin' 
 to comfort you, agra ; here" and she led him to 
 where a chair and table stood "here, sit down and 
 ate your supper : there 's an iligant piece o' roast 
 
i66 Rory O'More 
 
 beef, and a jug of beautiful beer, I kept sly for you. 
 If you like, I '11 light a candle for you." 
 
 " Oh, by no manes ! " said Rory ; " it 's betther 
 not : as the house was alarmed, the light might be 
 bad." 
 
 " No, it 's not that so much, but I 'm afeard o' 
 the noise of sthrikin' the flint." 
 
 " Don't think of it, Betty dear," grumbled Rory. 
 
 " Lord ! how your voice is althered ! " 
 
 " Indeed I 'm chokin' with the cowld hegh ! 
 hegh ! Oh, murdher ! " 
 
 "Ate a bit, and it'll do you good. I'm grieved 
 you have n't a light, darlin' ; 't would be sitch a com- 
 fort to you." 
 
 " I don't miss it in the laste, Betty : I can find the 
 way to my mouth in the dark." 
 
 And so saying, Rory began to eat his supper, which 
 was most acceptable to him for two reasons : first, 
 he was hungry ; and in the next place, the occupation 
 accounted for his silence, which it was so desirable to 
 preserve. 
 
 " But, you villain ! what did you ring that thievin' 
 bell for ? " 
 
 " 'T was a mistake, darlin' hegh ! hegh ! hegh ! 
 Oh ! this cowld is chokin' me ! " 
 
 " Don't disthress yourself talkin', Darby dear ; re- 
 lieve yourself with the mate and the dhrink." 
 
 Rory obeyed. 
 
 " I run up the minit I heard the bell ; and, sure, 
 was n't it the hoighth o' good luck that I got you in 
 before the colonel kem down ! Oh ! he 'd murdher 
 me, I 'm sure, if he thought how it was ! But, afther 
 all, Darby jewel, what harm is there in an honest 
 woman havin' her husband to come see her ? sure 
 it 's nath'ral." 
 
 " To be sure, Betty jewel," said Rory, who now 
 
Rory 'More 167 
 
 perceived that he was mistaken by Betty for her hus- 
 band ; and Rory's inventive imagination set to work in 
 fancying what a dilemma he should be in, in case the 
 real husband might arrive. In the mean time, how- 
 ever, he fortified his patience and resolution with the 
 beef and beer, which did great credit to the colonel's 
 larder and cellar. 
 
 " But you 're not atein', Darby dear," said Betty. 
 
 " No, but I 'm dhrinkin'," said Rory. 
 
 " Much good do your heart, jewel ! But, tell me, 
 how is Johnny ? " 
 
 Now, who the deuce Johnny was, Rory could not 
 tell ; but supposing, from the diminutive form of the 
 name, it might be her child, he thought it best to 
 please her with a favourable answer ; so he said, 
 " Johnny 's very well." 
 
 " Thank God ! " said Betty. " He 's a fine cray- 
 thur : how well he got over it ! " 
 
 " Iligant ! " said Rory, who wondered what it was 
 Johnny got over. 
 
 "And how is the hives ? " said Betty. 
 
 " They 're all where they wor," said Rory, who did 
 not dream of any other hives than beehives ; while 
 Betty meant the cutaneous eruption that " Johnny " 
 was suffering under. 
 
 " And has none o' thim disappeared ? " said Betty. 
 
 " Oh ! no," said Rory ; " we take great care o' 
 thim." 
 
 "Do, darlin', do; keep 'em from cowld." 
 
 " Oh yis ; we put sthraw over them," said Rory. 
 
 " Sthraw ! " said Betty ; " why, thin, is it takin' 
 lave o' your sinses you are, Darby ? Is it sthraw on 
 the hives ? " 
 
 " Sartinly ; sure the bees likes it." 
 
 " Bees ! " said Betty ; " arrah, what bees ? " 
 
 w Why, the bees in the hives," said Rory. 
 
i68 Rory 0' More 
 
 " Arrah, man, don't be going on with your hum- 
 buggin' ! you know I 'm axin' about the child very 
 well, and you must go on with your thricks about 
 beehives. I hate humbuggin', so I do, Darby, 
 and you know I do; and you will be goin' on, all I 
 can say." 
 
 Rory saw there was some mistake; and to stop 
 Betty, he said, " Whisht, whisht ! " 
 
 "What is it ? " said Betty. 
 
 " Don't talk so much, or maybe they '11 hear 
 uz." 
 
 Betty was silent for some time ; but as perfect still- 
 ness seemed to reign in the house, she returned to the 
 charge on the hives. 
 
 " But, tell me, is the hives all out ? " 
 
 " Av coorse," said Rory. 
 
 " And do they look well ? " 
 
 " Mighty purty indeed," said Rory ; " and there '11 
 be a power o' honey in them, I 'm sure." 
 
 Betty now gave him a box on the ear, saying, 
 u Devil sweep you ! you will be humbuggin' so you 
 will. You cruel brute ! can't you make fun of any 
 thing but the poor child that is lyin' undher the 
 hives?" 
 
 " Sure, I tell you the child is well and hearty ; and 
 is n't that enough ? " said Rory. 
 
 " And it 's only jokin' you wor ? " said Betty. 
 
 " To be sure," said Rory ; " you ought to know 
 my ways by this time. This is mighty fine 
 beef!" 
 
 " But, 'deed an' 'deed, is Johnny " 
 
 u Bad luck to the word more I '11 say ! " said Rory, 
 affecting an angry silence. 
 
 Betty now changed her ground, and thought a bit 
 of scandal confided to Darby, would amuse him ; so 
 she began to tell him that, suppose the colonel should 
 
Rory O'More 169 
 
 find out she brought her husband into the house, he 
 had no right to complain, for at all events it was her 
 own husband, and nobody else. 
 
 Rory chuckled at her confidence. ' 
 
 " Not all as one," said Betty, " as him with an- 
 other man's wife ! Purty goin's on." 
 
 " Do you tell me so ? " said Rory. 
 
 " I found it all out, so he 'd betther say nothin' to 
 me, or I could desthroy him. Not that she 's a bit 
 worse than ever she was ; but if the collecthor knew 
 
 Rory cocked his ears. "Is it Scrubbs you mane ? " 
 
 "Who else," said Betty. 
 
 " And his wife ? " said Rory. 
 
 " - Is come over on a visitj by the way but I 
 know what I know." 
 
 " How long ago ? " said Rory. 
 
 " Since you were here last," said Betty. 
 
 " That 's a long time," thought Rory to himself. 
 
 " Scrubbs went to town last week, and over comes 
 madam on a visit. Av coorse she'll go back 
 when she expects her nate man home. But it sarves 
 him right ! what could he expec' when he tuk up 
 with the likes of her, the dirty cur ! " 
 
 Betty went on for some time in this strain, venting 
 the vials of her wrath on the colonel and Mrs. 
 Scrubbs ; and Rory did not interrupt her, for he was 
 glad the more she talked, as it relieved him from the 
 difficulty of remaining concealed under her questions. 
 After exhausting her news and her abuse, she began 
 to ask Rory more questions, to all of- which he re- 
 plied by the exclamation of " Whisht," protesting at 
 the same time he was afraid to speak for fear of dis- 
 covery by the colonel. At last, when Betty found 
 he had cleared the dish and emptied the jug, she 
 said, 
 
170 Rory 0" More 
 
 " You had betther come to bed now, darlinV 
 
 This was a poser, and Rory said, " Whisht" 
 again. 
 
 "Come to bed, jewel you'll be more comfor- 
 tabler there than sittin' here in the cowld, and we can 
 talk without any fear o' bein' heerd, with our heads 
 undher the blankets." 
 
 " I can't bear my head undher the blankets," said 
 Rory. 
 
 " That 's newly come to you, thin," said Betty. 
 
 " That is since this cowld," said Rory, recovering 
 himself: u it chokes me, this cowld does." 
 
 " There 's not a finer thing in the world for a 
 cowld than to go to bed," said Betty. 
 
 " But the cowld rises in my throat to that degree 
 when I lie down," said Rory, " that it smothers 
 me." 
 
 " Maybe 't would be better to-night, darlin'," said 
 Betty. 
 
 u I 'd rather sit up," said Rory. 
 
 " You Ml be lost with the cowld," said Betty, " and 
 no fire in the grate." 
 
 Rory found Betty was determined to have matters 
 her own way, and began to get puzzled how he 
 should avoid this difficulty, and the only chance of 
 escape he saw open to him, was to request the tender 
 and confiding Betty to prepare herself for a " grate 
 saycret " he had to tell her, and that she would 
 promise when he informed her of it, not to be too 
 much surprised. Betty protested to preserve the 
 most philosophic composure. 
 
 " You won't screech ? " said Rory. 
 
 " What would I screech for ? " said Betty. 
 
 " It 's mighty surprising" said Rory. 
 
 " Arrah, don't keep me waitin', but let me have it 
 at wanst," said Betty eagerly. 
 
Rory O'More 
 
 " Now, darlin', take it aisy," said Rory, " for you 
 must know - " 
 
 u What ? " said Betty. 
 
 " I 'm not Darby," said Rory. 
 
 Betty scarcely suppressed a scream. 
 
 "You villain ! " said she. 
 
 " I 'm not a villain, aither," said Rory. 
 
 u What brought you here at all ? " 
 
 " Yourself," said Rory : " sure, was n't it yourself 
 pulled me inside the hall-door ? " 
 
 " But, sure, I thought it was Darby was in it." 
 
 " Well, and have n't I been honest enough to tell 
 you I 'm not Darby, at last, when it might have 
 been throublesome to your conscience, Betty ? " 
 
 " Ay," said the woman, " there 's more o' your 
 roguery ! Betty too ! how did you make out my 
 name, you divil's limb ? " 
 
 " A way o' my own, Betty." 
 
 " Oh, a purty rogue you are, I go bail throth 
 it 's not the first house you got into, I dare say, nor 
 the first poor woman you enthrapped, you midnight 
 desaiver and takin' up my name too." 
 
 " Well, I have n't taken away your name any how , 
 so don't be so fractious." 
 
 u Arrah, but how do 1 know but you will." 
 
 " Well, it 's time enough to cry when you 're 
 hurt, Betty, keep yourself cool now there's no 
 harm done." 
 
 "No harm indeed ! Curse your impidince ! No 
 harm ! Why, how do I know but it 's a robber you 
 are maybe ? 'Faith I b'lieve I 'd best rise the house 
 and own this thing to the colonel." 
 
 " Betty dear," said Rory very quietly, " have a 
 little wit in your anger, agra ! think o' your char- 
 aether^ Betty." 
 
 " Oh my characther, my characther, sure enough 
 
172 Rory 0" More 
 
 it 's ruined for ever ! Oh, what '11 I do ! " And she 
 was going to cry and make a fool of herself when 
 Rory reminded her that crying would do no good. 
 
 " The curse o' Crum'll an you ! what brought you 
 nigh the place at all ? and who are you ? " 
 
 " No matther who I am, but I tell you what is the 
 best thing you can do : jist let me stay quietly in 
 the house until the dawn, and thin let me out 
 onknownst." 
 
 " Oh, I dar' n't, I dar' n't," said Betty. " Sure if 
 you wor seen quittin' the place, 't would be the ruin 
 o' me ! " 
 
 " By dad ! I must quit it some time or other," said 
 Rory : " and sure if you let me out now itself, maybe 
 the colonel will hear the door opening ; or even if he 
 does n't, sure the sojers is now on the watch, and 
 would catch me." 
 
 " Oh, you must n't go out by the front," said 
 Betty : " I '11 let you out into the garden at the back, 
 and you must get over the wall, for here you must n't 
 stay that's tee-totally out o' the question." 
 
 " Well, any thing for a quiet life," said Rory ; " do 
 what you plaze with me : but I think, as I am here, 
 you might as well let me sit up here till towards 
 mornin'." 
 
 " No, no, no ! " said Betty in great tribulation. 
 " Who knows but Darby might come ! and then what 
 in the wide world would I do ! " 
 
 u You should keep him out," said Rory. 
 
 " Out, indeed ! " said Betty, " keep Darby out ! 
 Sure, he 'd suspec' somethin' was n't right, for he 's 
 as jealous as a turkey-cock, and he 'd murdher me if 
 he thought how it was. Oh, what brought you here 
 at all ! " 
 
 At this moment, some pebbles were thrown against 
 the area window. 
 
Rory O'More 173 
 
 " Oh, by this and that," said Betty, " there he is. 
 Oh, what '11 become o' me ! " 
 
 " Tut ! woman alive," said Rory, who endeavoured 
 to make her attend, for she became almost confounded 
 by the difficulty of her situation, and was clapping her 
 hands and uttering a volley of Oh's, "Tut! 
 woman, don't be clappin' your hands like a wash- 
 woman and makin' an uproar, but jist let me out 
 smart into the garden, and I '11 get over the wall as 
 you towld me." 
 
 Betty seemed aroused to action by Rory's sugges- 
 tion, and now led him to a back window, which she 
 opened carefully ; and telling Rory to get out softly, 
 she handed him a chair, and then followed herself. 
 She conducted him then to the end of the garden, and 
 placing the chair close to the wall, she held it firmly, 
 while Rory got upon the back rail, which enabled him 
 to lay his hands on the top of the brickwork, and he 
 soon scrambled up and dropped himself on the out- 
 side. On his landing, he ran as fast and lightly as he 
 could from the quarter where the sentinels were 
 placed, and so far escaped unobserved, and continued 
 in a straight line up a narrow street that opened from 
 one of the corners of the green. Here he paused a 
 while before deciding which way he should proceed ; 
 for, in the huriy of leaving the house, he never 
 thought of asking Betty which was the way to go. 
 Rory took the first turn out of this street that chance 
 suggested, and was getting on famously, as he thought ; 
 but while in the very act of congratulating himself on 
 his wonderful deliverance from the soldiers, he turned 
 another corner, and was scarcely round it, when a 
 startling " Who 's there ? " was uttered a few paces 
 ahead of him, and the rattling of a firelock accom- 
 panied the challenge. 
 
 Rory saw the game was up, and that after all his 
 
174 Rory O'More 
 
 former luck, it was his fate to become a prisoner; so 
 he approached the point whence he was challenged, 
 and said, " A friend." 
 
 " Advance and give the countersign," said the 
 sentinel, emerging from a sentry-box. 
 
 " I have n't sitch a thing about me, sir," said Rory. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 IN WHICH RORY REMEMBERS THE OLD SAYING OF 
 " PUT THAT IN YOUR PIPE AND SMOKE IT " 
 
 WHEN Rory could not give the countersign nor 
 produce a pass, the sentinel told him he was 
 his prisoner, and must remain in his custody until 
 the guard should be relieved ; to which Rory made 
 not the least objection. 
 
 To all the soldier's questions as to where he had 
 been and what brought him out at that hour of the 
 night, Rory gave ready but evasive answers, until, the 
 first moment of surprise being past, he had time to 
 invent such replies as would least embarrass him in 
 any subsequent examination he might undergo ; and 
 was so far successful, that the soldier believed him to 
 be a peasant who was abroad at that hour through 
 ignorance. 
 
 Rory now thought of General Hoche's letter, and 
 began to feel uneasy at the possession of such a docu- 
 ment. Under the surveillance of the sentinel he 
 could not well manage to tear it ; and even if he had, 
 it being found near the spot, would prove a suspicious 
 circumstance against him. In this dilemma, an in- 
 genious thought occurred to him. Stooping, as it 
 were to rub his leg, he soiled his fingers with the 
 mud upon his shoes, and then introducing his hand 
 into the pocket which held the letter, he dabbled it 
 with the dirt to take off its look of freshness, and 
 doubled it together in narrow folds, so as to resemble 
 
176 Rory O'More 
 
 those billets of paper which the Irish peasantry so 
 commonly stick in their hats for the purpose of light- 
 ing their pipes. This, the thin texture of the foreign 
 paper enabled him the better to do ; and Rory then 
 stuck the dangerous document into his hatband, 
 where he trusted to its remaining without exciting 
 suspicion. 
 
 In about half an hour the guard was relieved, and 
 Rory was handed over to the patrole, who marched 
 him into the guard-house of the barrack, up to whose 
 very walls it was his ill luck to have directed his 
 steps on leaving the colonel's house. Rory entered 
 the place of durance with the greatest composure, 
 and began talking to the soldiers with the most 
 admirable nonchalance. 
 
 " Faix, I 'm glad I had the luck to fall in with 
 you ! " said he, " for I did n't know where in the 
 world to go; and here I am undher a good roof, 
 with a fine fire in the place." 
 
 The soldiers did not attend to him much, but 
 crowded round the fire, while the serjeant went to 
 make his report to the officer of the guard that a 
 prisoner had been brought in. 
 
 This officer happened to be a very raw ensign, 
 who having lately joined, and being moreover by 
 nature a consequential coxcomb, was fond of giving 
 himself all the airs in which a position of authority 
 could permit him to indulge, much to his own personal 
 delight and the good of his majesty's service. 
 
 When the serjeant had announced his own presence 
 before his superior officer by the respectful enuncia- 
 tion of " Plase your honour," he stood as upright as 
 his own halberd he had just about as much brains, 
 with his arms and hands stuck straight and close 
 to his side, until the ensign thought fit to lift his 
 gooseberry eyes from the novel he was reading. 
 
Rory O'More 177 
 
 When he vouchsafed to look at the serjeant, he 
 said, " What 's your business ? " 
 
 " The pattherowl, your honour, has tuk a presner." 
 
 " Where did they make the arrest ? " 
 
 " The rest, your honour ? there 's no more o' 
 them, your honour." 
 
 " I say, where did they capture him ? " 
 
 " Oh ! they did nothing to him, your honour, until 
 they have your honour's ordhers." 
 
 " Confound you ! I say, where did they take 
 him ? " 
 
 " They have tuk him into the guard-house, your 
 honour." 
 
 " You horrid individual ! I mean, where was he 
 found ? " 
 
 " In the sthreet, your honour." 
 
 " You beast ! What street ? " 
 
 " Butthermilk Street, your honour." 
 
 " Near the barrack ? " 
 
 " Yis, your honour." 
 
 " Has he any accomplices ? " 
 
 u We have not sarched him yet, your honour." 
 
 " Confound you ! I mean, was he in company ? " 
 
 " Yis, your honour ; he says he was in company, 
 but they turned him out, your honour." 
 
 u Then he was alone ? " 
 
 " Yis, your honour." 
 
 " Have you searched him? " 
 
 " No, your honour." 
 
 " Demneetion, sir ! You should always search a 
 prisoner the first thing you don't know but a 
 prisoner may have concealed arms or treasonable 
 papers on his person. Search him directly." 
 
 " Yis, your honour," said the serjeant, raising his 
 arm like the handle of a pump, and when he had 
 it at full length, doubling it up from his elbow till 
 VOL. i. 12 
 
178 Rory O'More 
 
 his hand, as flat as a fish-knife, touched his head : 
 then deliberately reversing all these motions until his 
 arm was back again at his side, he turned on his heel, 
 and was leaving the room, when the ensign, calling 
 him back again, said, with an air of great authority, 
 
 " I expect never to hear of such a gross breach of 
 discipline and neglect of duty again : never report a 
 prisoner in my presence without being able to answer 
 all such important questions as I have been asking 
 you ; and for this purpose let your first duty be 
 always to search him directly. Go, now, and report 
 to me again when the person of this prisoner has 
 undergone rigid inspection. Retire ! " 
 
 " Yis, your honour," said the Serjeant, repeating 
 his salute with his usual solemnity, and stalking from 
 the room into the guard-house. 
 
 Now, the room where the officer sat was a small 
 apartment partitioned off the guard-house ; and Rory, 
 whose ears were open, heard every word of the offi- 
 cer's magniloquence and the Serjeant's stupidity ; and 
 so soon as he heard the order about searching, and 
 the words " treasonable papers," he thought that to 
 let the letter remain in existence would be only run- 
 ning an unnecessary risk ; so he very deliberately 
 approached the fire, and having taken Hoche's letter 
 from his hatband, he spoke to some soldiers who were 
 sitting round the hearth all unmindful of what was 
 going forward between the officer and the Serjeant, 
 and, handing them the letter twisted up in the form 
 of a match for lighting a pipe, he said, 
 
 " I beg your pardon for being so throublesome, 
 gintlemen, but would you oblige me to light this taste 
 of paper for me to kindle my pipe ? for indeed it 's 
 mighty co'wld, and I 'm lost with the wet." 
 
 One of the soldiers did as he required ; for the 
 request was so natural, and Rory's manner so cool, 
 
Rory O'More 179 
 
 that no suspicion was awakened of the importance of 
 the document on whose destruction Rory's life or 
 death depended, and the lighted paper was handed to 
 him over the shoulders of the party that enclosed the 
 fire, and Rory lighted his pipe with a self-possession 
 that would have done honour to an American Indian. 
 From the wetting the letter had sustained while ex- 
 posed in Rory's hat, it burned slowly ; so, when he 
 heard the serjeant coming from the officer's room, 
 and his feigned match not yet consumed, he leaned 
 over the back of the soldier who had obliged him, 
 and saying, " Thank you kindly, sir," threw the 
 remainder of the paper into the fire, just as the Ser- 
 jeant returned to execute the ensign's order. 
 
 The search instituted upon Rory's person produced 
 no evidence against him. When it was over, he sat 
 down and smoked his pipe very contentedly. In a 
 few minutes another prisoner made his appearance, 
 when a second party, who had been relieving guard, 
 came in. This man was making loud protestations 
 that he was not the person the soldiers took him for ; 
 but his declarations seemed to have no effect on the 
 guard. 
 
 u I wonder you were not afraid to come to the 
 place again, after having escaped once before," said 
 one of the sentinels who brought him in. 
 
 " I tell you again, I never was there before," said 
 the man. 
 
 " Bother ! " said the sentinel ; " you won't do an 
 old soldier that way." 
 
 " By this and by that," said the prisoner. 
 
 " Whish, whish ! " said the soldier ; " sure we were 
 looking for you before : however, you contrived to 
 give us the slip." 
 
 " I gave you no slip," said the prisoner : " I tell 
 you again, 't was the first time I was there." 
 
i8o Rory O'More 
 
 " Fudge ! " said the soldier : " how did the bell 
 ring?" 
 
 " Divil a bell I rung," said the man. 
 
 Rory understood in an instant how this mystifica- 
 tion took place: he suspected at once this must be 
 Darby, who had thrown the pebbles that startled 
 Betty so much ; and, while he laughed in his sleeve 
 at the poor husband being mistaken for the person 
 who had disturbed the colonel's house, he continued 
 to smoke his pipe with apparent indifference to all 
 that was going forward, and did not as much as look 
 up at the prisoner. It was absurd and whimsical 
 enough, certainly, that Betty should first have mis- 
 taken him for Darby, and then that Darby should 
 be mistaken for him by the soldiers. Darby still 
 continued to protest his innocence of any pre- 
 vious approach to the house ; but the soldiers 
 could not be persuaded out of their senses, as 
 they themselves said ; and so the affair concluded 
 by Darby being desired to sit down beside his fel- 
 low-prisoner. 
 
 Rory now looked at him, to see what sort of a 
 bargain Betty had made' in a husband, and, to his 
 surprise, he beheld one of the men he had seen in the 
 cellar. A momentary look of recognition passed be- 
 tween them, and then they withdrew their eyes, lest 
 the bystanders should notice their intelligence. 
 
 11 Where will the adventures of this night end ! " 
 thought Rory to himself. 
 
 But all adventures must have an end at last, and 
 this chapter of Rory's accidents came to a close 
 next morning ; in the mean time, however, Rory 
 stretched himself on the guard-bed when he had 
 finished his pipe, and slept soundly. It may be 
 wondered at that he could sleep under such exciting 
 circumstances, and still in a perilous situation ; but 
 
Rory 'More 181 
 
 when we remember all the fatigues he had gone 
 though the preceding day, it does not seem extraor- 
 dinary that sleep should have favoured one like Rory, 
 who was always full of hope, and did not know what 
 fear meant. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 IN WHICH IT APPEARS THAT ONE MAN'S SIN MAY 
 PROVE ANOTHER MAN'S SALVATON 
 
 IN the morning he was awoke by a prodigious 
 drumming ; and various other drummings, and 
 firings, and trumpetings, &c. went forward, with 
 paradings and such military formula : these being 
 finished, Rory and Darby were conducted from the 
 guard-house, and led into the presence of the colonel, 
 whom Rory recognised for his coal-hole acquaintance 
 of the preceding night, 
 
 Rory, on being questioned as to what brought him 
 into the streets at such an hour, said that he was a 
 stranger in the town ; that it being market-day, he 
 went with a few " boys " to have some drink, and that 
 he become drowsy and fell asleep in a public-house ; 
 that subsequently he was awoke, and that he then saw 
 other people in the room ; that a quarrel arose ; that 
 they did not seem to like his company, and " at last," 
 said Rory, " they gave me a hint to go." 
 
 " What hint did they give you ? " said the colonel. 
 
 " They kicked me down stairs, your honour," said 
 Rory. 
 
 A laugh followed Rory's exposition of what a hint 
 was. " That 's rather a strong hint," said the colonel. 
 
 " I thought so myself, your honour," said Rory ; 
 " and so when they kicked me down stairs, I sus- 
 pected it was time to go." 
 
 " But, my good fellow," said the colonel, noticing 
 
Rory O'More 183 
 
 Rory's fine proportions and bold eye, though Rory 
 endeavoured to look as innocent as he could, " I 
 don't think you seem like a fellow that would take 
 such a hint quietly." 
 
 " Why, your honour, I 'm behowlden to you for 
 your good opinion, and indeed it 's thrue, I 'm proud 
 to say ; but what could I do agin a dozen ? I offered 
 to bate them all round singly ; but they would not 
 listen to rayson, and so they shoved me outside the 
 door; and there I was in the sthreet, knowin' no 
 more than the child unborn where to turn, or where 
 to go look for a bed." 
 
 u I '11 have the keeper of that public-house punished 
 for having it open at such an hour. Where is it ? " 
 
 " Indeed and I don't know," said Rory. 
 
 The colonel looked incredulous. He questioned 
 Rory more closely, who fenced very ingeniously ; 
 but still the suspicions of the colonel were excited, 
 and he said at last, 
 
 " Your account of yourself, my good fellow, is 
 rather confused." 
 
 " No wondher, your honour, when I was dhrunk 
 all the time." 
 
 " That won't do," said the colonel, who continued 
 in a severer tone, "I suspect you 're a deep fellow, 
 sir, and know more than you choose to tell, and 
 therefore I '11 hand you over to the Serjeant. Here, 
 Serjeant." That functionary advanced. " Serjeant," 
 said the colonel, " take this fellow to the halberds, 
 let the drummers give him a dozen, and see if 
 that will refresh his memory." 
 
 Rory's heart almost burst with indignation at the 
 thought of the degradation, and he became first red 
 as crimson and then pale as death with rage. 
 
 " Ha ! " said the colonel, seeming to enjoy the 
 pallor his threat had produced, and which he mistook 
 
1 84 Rory 0" More 
 
 for fear, " we '11 see, my fine fellow, what you 
 think of the hints the drummers will give you ! " 
 
 In an instant Rory's invention came to his aid ; 
 and though, could he have indulged his desire, he 
 would have had the colonel placed before him on 
 equal terms, and could have plucked out his tyran- 
 nous heart for the degradation he would inflict on 
 him, still he kept down his rising wrath, and let 
 finesse accomplish what he knew force could never 
 achieve : so, with as much calmness as he could 
 muster, he said, 
 
 " I 'd be sorry, sir, to put the sarjeant to so much 
 throuble ; and, if you '11 be good enough to clear the 
 room, I '11 tell you something you 'd like to know, 
 sir." 
 
 u You may tell it out before all," said the colonel. 
 
 " Plaze your honour," said Rory, who now had 
 recovered his self-command, and enjoyed the thought 
 of foiling cruelty by craft, "your honour, it 's some- 
 thing you would n't be plazed every one should hear." 
 
 " How should n't I be pleased ? There 's nothing 
 you can tell, fellow, that I should care if the whole 
 world knew." 
 
 " Av coorse not, your honour," said Rory with 
 affected reverence ; " but at the same time, if you 
 b'lieve me, sir, it will be betther for no one but 
 yourself to know of it." 
 
 " Clear the room, then," said he to the Serjeant. 
 "You may remain, Mr. Daw." This was said to 
 the ensign who was officer of the guard. 
 
 " No one but yourself, if you plaze, your honour," 
 said Rory. 
 
 The colonel at first imagined that this was some 
 desperate fellow who had concealed arms about 
 him, and meant to take his life ; but remembering he 
 had been searched in the guard-house, his personal 
 
Rory O'More 185 
 
 security no longer was matter of question, and there 
 was a certain meaning that Rory threw into his 
 manner, which influenced him to grant the prisoner's 
 request to be alone with him. 
 
 " Well, what 's this wonderful secret you Ve to 
 tell ? " said the colonel when they were alone. 
 
 " Why, sir," said Rory, affecting great embarrass- 
 ment, and rubbing his hand up and down the table 
 before which he stood, as if he were ashamed of what 
 he had to communicate, " I 'm loath to tell you 
 a'most, sir, begging your honour's pardon ; but " 
 
 " Quick, sir, quick ! " said the colonel impatiently. 
 
 u It 's all thrue what I towld you, sir, about bein' a 
 sthranger in the town, and coming over jist to " 
 
 "The fact, sirrah!" said the colonel, "the 
 fact, tell me what 's this secret of yours ? " 
 
 " Yis, your honour, that 's what I want to intense 
 your honour about." 
 
 " You 'd insense any one with your delay, fellow. 
 Come to the fact, I tell you What 's this secret ? " 
 
 Rory fixed his eyes on the colonel while he pro- 
 ceeded, 
 
 "You see, sir I beg your honour's pardon, and 
 hope you won't be offinded with me but in the 
 
 regard of Misther "and he lowered his voice 
 
 to a mysterious pitch. 
 
 " Who ? " said the colonel, on whom Rory had 
 his eye fixed like a hawk. 
 
 " Misther Scrubbs, sir," said Rory. 
 
 The colonel winced : Rory saw he had 
 
 " 'Tented him to the quick ; " 
 
 and now felt that the game was in his hands. 
 
 " What of him ? " said the colonel recovering him- 
 self, but yet with a very altered tone of voice to that 
 in which he had hitherto pursued his interrogatories. 
 
186 Rory O'More 
 
 "Why, sir, your honour you'll excuse me, I 
 hope, I would n'toffind your honour for the world, 
 but I thought it best not to mention any thing 
 about it while the people was here, becaze people is 
 curious sometimes and might be makin' their re- 
 marks ; and I thought I could betther give your 
 honour a hint when nobody would be the wiser of it." 
 
 " I 'm not any wiser myself of it yet," said the 
 colonel. 
 
 41 No, of coorse, your honour, seein' I was loath to 
 mention the thing a'most, for fear of your honour 
 thinkin' I was takin' a liberty ; but the misthiss 
 
 Misses Scrubbs I mane, your honour- " and 
 
 Rory here stuck his eyes into the colonel again. 
 
 " Well ? " said the colonel. 
 
 " I knew she was over here with a frind, your 
 honour, and I knew that she did not expec' the 
 masther down the collecthor, I mane." 
 
 " Well," said the colonel. 
 
 "And I thought it best to tell her that I heerd 
 the masther is comin' down to-morrow, and av 
 coorse your honour knows he would not be plazed if 
 the misthiss was n't in the place, and might suspect, 
 or the like. I hope your honour is not offinded." 
 
 The emphasis on "your honour knows" and " sus- 
 pect " was accompanied by sly smiles and winks, and 
 significant nods; and the colonel saw clearly that 
 Rory was possessed of the knowledge of his intrigue 
 with Mrs. Scrubbs, and that the best thing he could 
 do was to make him his friend ; so he said very 
 gently, 
 
 " Offended ! my good fellow, not at all. And so 
 you came over to tell your mistress ? " 
 
 " I thought it best, sir ; for indeed she is a pleasant 
 lady, and I would n't for the world that she 'd get 
 into throuble, nor your honour aither." 
 
Rory 0' More 187 
 
 u Well, here 's something to drink my health." 
 
 " Oh, your honour, sure I would n't." 
 
 " I insist upon it," said the colonel, forcing five 
 guineas into Rory's hand, who did all in his power 
 not to take them ; for, though he hesitated not to 
 execute this manreuvre to save his life, he did not 
 like receiving money on a false pretence. 
 
 u Indeed, thin, I never intended to take money, 
 nor to tell your honour of it at all only the 
 misthiss, but for the quare accident that brought me 
 before your honour." 
 
 " I 'm glad I 've seen you," said the colonel, " to 
 reward your fidelity to your mistress : she shall be 
 home before to-morrow." 
 
 " Throth, then, I pity her 'to be obleeged to lave 
 so iligant a gintleman." 
 
 " Hush ! " said the colonel. 
 
 " Mum ! " said Rory, winking and laying his 
 finger on his nose : "but sure you 're the divil among 
 the women, colonel ! " 
 
 The colonel was pleased at the compliment paid to 
 his gallantry ; and merely saying to Rory, " Be dis- 
 creet," he called in the persons who were waiting in 
 wonder outside to know what important communi- 
 cation had been going forward. 
 
 " This man is free," said the colonel : " I 'm quite 
 satisfied with his explanations. And, serjeant, take 
 him with you to the adjutant's office, and let him 
 have a pass." 
 
 This was a bit of finesse on the colonel's part, to 
 make it appear that it was on public, not private 
 grounds, he gave Rory his freedom ; for at this 
 period, a pass from a commanding officer empowered 
 the bearer to go unmolested at all hours, and was 
 entrusted only to emissaries or known friends of 
 government. 
 
i88 Rory 'More 
 
 The colonel was so thrown off his guard by Rory's 
 ruse de guerre, that he never asked his name ; so Rory 
 obtained his pass without being known, and then 
 turned his face homeward. As he rattled along the 
 road, high in spirits, as men always are when they 
 have conquered difficulties, his head was in a whirl at 
 the retrospect of the various adventures which had 
 befallen him within four-and-twenty hours. 
 
 " First, I meet French missionaries " (he meant 
 emissaries, but no matter), u thin I get all the 
 news o' what 's goin' on that will astonish the world, 
 thin I get a rale letther from Gineral Heche 
 Ah ! there 's the murdher ! the letter's gone. Bad 
 cess to it ! why could n't I conthrive to keep it ? 
 But no matther afther all, it might be worse, sure ; 
 if 't was found I 'd be hanged. Not that I 'd care so 
 much for that, as the thing being blown. Indeed, I 
 might ha' been hanged maybe, afther all; only I 
 knew about the colonel's purty doings. Well, well, 
 to think that the sins of one woman should save 
 the life of another man ! But that 's the will o' God 
 and the blessed Vargin. And to think I should not 
 only get home safe, but have five goolden guineas in 
 my pocket into the bargain ! Throth, Rory, luck's 
 on your side, my boy ! " 
 
 Now, it was not merely luck was on Rory's side, 
 for hetu; Tied all the accidents to good account, which 
 would have been thrown away on a fool; and this, 
 after all, is what makes the difference, in ninety-nine 
 cases out of every hundred, between a lucky and an 
 unlucky man. The unlucky man often plays life's 
 game with good cards and loses ; while the lucky 
 man plays the same game with bad ones, and wins. 
 Circumstances are the rulers of the weak ; they 
 are but the instruments of the wise. 
 
. CHAPTER XV 
 
 BEING A MIXTURE OF ROMANCE AND REALITY 
 
 THE interest which De Lacy felt on Rory's 
 return, in listening to the important intelligence 
 he brought, was mingled with amusement at the ad- 
 venturous way in which he had conducted the enter- 
 prise. The loss of the letter he did not much regard, 
 as the most valuable information it could have con- 
 veyed was in his possession, namely, the preparation 
 of the extensive armament for the invasion of the 
 island ; and, under the circumstances, he not only did 
 not blame Rory for the mishap, but gave him great 
 credit for his courage and intelligence ; for Rory had 
 communicated to him every particular of his adven- 
 tures. De Lacy blamed De Welslcein for holding 
 the unlicensed communion Rory described in his 
 cellar, and assured O'More he was not aware that 
 such was the smuggler's practice when he sent him 
 on his mission. 
 
 "You don't imagine, Rory, that I would counte- 
 nance nor be the companion of such ruffians ? " 
 
 44 To be sure you would n't, sir," said Rory; "and 
 I hope you don't think I 'd suppose such a thing." 
 
 " No ; but as you were sent there by me, 1 wish 
 you to understand " 
 
 " Oh, sir, I don't mind such a thrifle," said Rory. 
 
 " I don't think it a trifle," said De Lacy. 
 
 " But sure, if it was you was there, of coorse he 
 would n't have done the like by you, sir." 
 
Rory 0' More 
 
 " He dare not, the rascal ! but that 's not enough -, 
 he should n't have treated my agent so : but, to 
 be sure, in these affairs one must not be too par- 
 ticular. They say poverty makes men acquainted 
 with strange bedfellows; and revolutions must do 
 the same thing." 
 
 Yet, much as De Lacy strove to reconcile the 
 thing to his feelings, his delicacy revolted at the scene 
 of brutal debauch that Rory, a pure-hearted peasant, 
 was made the witness and partly the partaker of. 
 De Lacy was in every way an enthusiast : he believed 
 in that high standard of human virtue which could 
 sacrifice all for virtue's sake ; his love of liberty was 
 pure, unstained by one unholy motive, and how- 
 ever much he might be blamed by those who thought 
 the cause in which he was engaged unjustifiable, or 
 even flagitious, his motives at least were high and 
 noble : they might be called mistaken, but not 
 unworthy. 
 
 His profession as a soldier, his present exploit as 
 a patriot, and his love as a man, were all undertaken 
 and pursued with a feeling belonging rather to the 
 age of chivalry than the time in which he lived. Or 
 it might be perhaps more truly said, belonging to his 
 own particular period of existence, that glorious 
 spring-time when every leaf of life is green, and the 
 autumn of experience has not laid the withering tint 
 of distrust upon one. The age of chivalry, did I 
 say ? Every young and noble heart has its own age 
 of chivalry ! 
 
 De Lacy's love has been once mentioned before 
 at least glanced at ; and it may be as well to give 
 some slight notion of that event, so interesting in 
 most people's lives. Not that De Lacy's love has 
 much to do with the events about to be recorded ; but 
 as it will be necessary to touch upon it perhaps else- 
 
Rory O'More 191 
 
 where, the reader may just be given a peep into the 
 affair : besides, it will help to exhibit the refined 
 nature of De Lacy's mind. 
 
 He had left behind him in Paris a girl to whom he 
 was deeply attached, and by whom he believed him- 
 self to be ardently beloved. But Adele Verbigny 
 was unworthy of such a love as De Lacy's, inasmuch 
 as she could not understand it. Love was with her 
 a necessity : she thought it quite indispensable that 
 every young lady should have a lover ; and if that 
 lover was a hero, so much the better. Now, De 
 Lacy happened to be a handsome fellow and a soldier ; 
 and when he volunteered to undertake the dangerous 
 mission to Ireland, she was charmed, because that 
 her Horace should be the " saviour of a nation," &c. 
 &c. she considered a triumph to herself. So, babbling 
 in the exaggerated jargon of the feverish time in which 
 she spoke, she said she offered up the hopes of her 
 heart upon the altar of Freedom, and desired him go 
 and disenthral his native land from the yoke of 
 tyranny, and return crowned with laurels to enjoy 
 her love. 
 
 De Lacy believed the little Parisian felt all she 
 said, and loved her better than ever. While he was 
 yet uncertain of the moment of his departure, he 
 received a peremptory summons from the Directory to 
 start immediately with a government courier to the 
 coast. He hastened to the house of Adele to take 
 a tender farewell. Her mother met him as he entered 
 the apartment. 
 
 " Hush ! " said she ; " Adele sleeps." 
 
 " I have not a moment to wait," said De Lacy ; 
 " I 'm summoned on the instant to depart." 
 
 "You see she sleeps," said the mother: " she cried 
 so much last night at the separation of the lovers in 
 the play, that she was quite overcome. Her nerves 
 
192 Rory 0' More 
 
 have been shattered all day, and she went asleep just 
 now on the sofa to restore herself." 
 
 " Sweet soul ! " said De Lacy " poor Adele ! if 
 she wept at a fictitious separation, what would she 
 suffer at a real one ! I will not wake her no- 
 mine be the pain of parting. Tell her," said he 
 tenderly, and he looked at the sleeping girl while he 
 spoke to her mother, "tell her I go to fulfil my 
 duty to my country. I will return with its blessings 
 and the laurels of victory to lay at her feet, and then 
 I shall be worthy of her." He knelt to kiss her, but 
 paused. "No," he said, "I might awake her: this 
 is all I shall take," and he gently drew a flower from 
 the folds of her dress, " 't is a type of her beauty, 
 her sweetness, and her innocence ! " He then rose 
 and hurried to depart. " Farewell, mother," said 
 he, "permit me to call you so, and tell Adele 
 why I would not wake her; and will she not love me 
 the better when she knows how much I renounced 
 in relinquishing the parting charm of a kiss and a 
 blessing from her own bright lips ! " He could trust 
 himself to say no more, but he rushed from the 
 house. 
 
 The ravings of De Lacy during his dangerous ill- 
 ness had been divided between the recollection of 
 Adele and anticipation of the intended revolutionary 
 struggle. On his recovery, however, his mind reverted 
 more pleasurably to the former subject than the latter ; 
 for, to his enfeebled nerves, love was a theme more 
 congenial than war. 
 
 In such a frame of mind it was that De Lacy sat 
 in his bedroom, a few days after his recovery, with 
 some papers lying before him, and his eyes resting 
 on the flower he had taken from the bosom of Adele 
 the night he had parted from her. He thought of 
 the circumstances of that parting ; and as the sleep- 
 
Rory 'More 193 
 
 ing girl was recalled to his fancy, his heart went 
 through all the emotions of that parting again, 
 through the influence of an imagination always vivid, 
 but now rendered more delicately sensitive through 
 the agency of that susceptibility of nerve which the 
 languor succeeding a severe illness produces, and the 
 fulness of his heart and the excitement of his fancy 
 found vent in recording his farewell and the emo- 
 tions of that moment in verse ; and, dedicating to his 
 Adele the inspiration of his muse, he wrote the 
 following 
 
 SONG 
 
 Sleep, my love sleep, my love, 
 
 Wake not to weep, my love, 
 Though thy sweet eyes are all hidden from me: 
 
 Why shouldst thou waken to sorrows like mine, love, 
 
 While thou may'st, in dreaming, taste pleasure, divine, love ? 
 
 For blest are the visions of slumbers like thine, love 
 So sleep thee, nor know who says ' Farewell to theel " 
 
 Sleep, my love sleep, my love, 
 Wake not to weep, my love, 
 
 Though thy sweet eyes are all hidden from me: 
 Hard 't is to part without one look of kindness, 
 Yet sleep more resembles fond love in its blindness, 
 And thy look would enchain me again ; I find less 
 
 Of pain to say, " Farewell, sweet slumb'rer, to thee! " 
 
 Thus, in writing and reading, for De Lacy had 
 a few choice books with him, some days were 
 passed ; but his strength began to return, and he was 
 soon able to walk abroad. In his rambles, a book 
 was mostly his companion ; and it was the frequency 
 of his being observed by the country people in the 
 VOL. i. 13 
 
194 Rory O'More 
 
 act of reading that he obtained the name of " the 
 Scholar," for so he became universally called by 
 the peasants, who liked him for his courteous manner, 
 and the freedom with which he conversed with them. 
 Who and what he was, they did not care : but not 
 so little Sweeny and Scrubbs, who used to exchange 
 mutual " wonders " with each other as to " What 
 the deuce he could be ? What brought him there ? 
 What he was about ? " &c. &c., and the conclu- 
 sion they always arrived at was, both shaking their 
 heads very significantly, and saying, "Very odd!" 
 De Lacy avoided the village in his walks. In the 
 first place, the retirement of the quiet banks of the 
 river, or the wildness of the hills above it, was more 
 congenial to his temper ; and secondly, he wished 
 to keep himself beyond the range of observation as 
 much as possible. With reading and sketching, and 
 making short excursions into the adjacent country, 
 his days passed pleasantly enough, while all the time 
 he was taking note of what he saw and heard ; for 
 though the expected assistance from the Texel, of 
 which he was in daily hopes of receiving intelligence, 
 rendered it unnecessary to write to General Clarke 
 on the subject, as the blow he expected would be 
 struck without any urgency on his part, yet his own 
 anxiety to acquire a knowledge of the internal state 
 of the country stimulated his inquiries. Old Phelim, 
 the schoolmaster, was often questioned on such 
 matters : and his oddity amused, while his informa- 
 tion satisfied, De Lacy. 
 
 It might be supposed by the general reader that, 
 engaged in such a cause as/ De Lacy then was, an 
 introduction to the parish priest would have been 
 held desirable ; but it was not so far from it. De 
 Lacy, in common with all the leaders of the political 
 movement then going forward in Ireland, desired 
 
Rory O'More 195 
 
 to shun by every possible means any contact with 
 the priesthood. The results of the French Revolu- 
 tion had given the alarm to the clergy of all de- 
 nominations ; and the Irish Roman Catholic priest, 
 so far from countenancing the introduction of revolu- 
 tionary principles into Ireland, had refused absolu- 
 tion to " The Defenders," a political union formed 
 amongst the lower orders of the Catholic Irish, to 
 protect themselves from the aggressions of the " Peep- 
 o'-day Boys," who were Protestants and Presbyterians. 
 The dominant party in Ireland have endeavoured to 
 propagate the belief that the rebellion of 1798 was 
 of religious origin, and put in practice for the murder 
 of all the Protestants in Ireland : but what is the 
 fact ? The society of United Irishmen was first 
 established in the North of Ireland, where the ma- 
 jority of the population was Protestant and Presby- 
 terian. It was by Protestants and Presbyterians the 
 society was founded, and Protestants and Presby- 
 terians were its principal leaders. So, to credit the 
 Orange account of the affair, we must believe that 
 the Protestants originated the ingenious device of 
 organising a revolution to murder themselves ! 
 
 The truth is, the revolution then contemplated was 
 purely political. When the repeated calls for reform 
 in the Irish parliament and a repeal of the penal laws 
 against Catholics were refused till disappointment 
 grew into despair, then, and not till then, did the 
 people coalesce to take by force what they had vainly 
 sought by petition. The Catholics, from the very 
 nature of their religion, which teaches such tame 
 submission to authority, would never have dared to 
 rebel. It was the stern Presbyterians, reformers by 
 descent, that organised the movement to relieve Ire- 
 land from the political degradation in which she then 
 was prostrated, and long oppression at last roused 
 
196 Rory 0' More 
 
 the Roman Catholics to make common cause with 
 them. 
 
 These facts I mention, lest it might be considered 
 inconsistent that De Lacy should not have been in 
 league with Father Kinshela, who, so far from coun- 
 tenancing the influence of Frenchmen in Ireland, 
 considered the Gallic revolution and all its emissaries 
 to be quite as pestilential as they were deemed to 
 be by the stanchest Protestant in the land. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 AN " IRISH " FAIR WITH ONLY " ONE " FIGHT IN IT. 
 DE WELSKEIN'S METAMORPHOSES. -*- LEARNED 
 PIGS. ROASTED DUCKS. LOVE AND MURDER, 
 
 ETC. ETC. 
 
 DE LACY had been for some days in expectation 
 of going to a neighbouring fair, which has the 
 reputation of being a scene of great merriment in 
 Ireland, and a very characteristic thing ; and as he 
 had never witnessed such a meeting, his curiosity was 
 not a little excited. It was agreed that he and Rory, 
 as well as his sister, with her suitor Conolly, who, 
 by the way, was not a favoured, though a devoted 
 lover, should form a party, to which Phelim 
 O'Flanagan begged to be added, and the request was 
 granted. 
 
 " You must not expect, though," said Rory, ad- 
 dressing De Lacy, " that we '11 have as much fun as 
 usual ; for, you see, the people being more united, 
 they won't fight as much as they do in common, and 
 the factions is laid down by common consint until 
 matthers get smooth again ; and when we have 
 justice and happiness among us once more, why thin 
 we can enjoy our private battles according to the 
 good owld fashion." 
 
 " That 's the thing that surprises me," said De 
 Lacy, " why you are so fond of factions. You 
 are good-humoured and pleasant fellows enough indi- 
 
Rory O'More 
 
 vidually ; but when a set of you get together, you 
 scarcely ever part without fighting." 
 
 " Why, you see, sir," said Phelim, " it is the nature 
 of man to be disputaarious in their various degrees, 
 kings for kingdoms scholars for argument, and 
 so an ; and the disputaariousness of human nathur 
 is as like to brake out about which barony is the best 
 ball-players or hurlers, as if Roosia vindicated Proosia, 
 or Proosia vindicated Roosia : for you know, sir, be- 
 ing a scholar, that the vindicativeness of nations to 
 aitch other is no more than the vindicativeness of the 
 human heart, which is as demonstherated in a parish, 
 or a barony, or a townland, or the like, as in the more 
 circumscribed circle of an impire, or a principalatine, 
 all as one as a circle is a circle, whatever the size 
 of it may be, from a platther up to a cart-wheel. 
 Q. E. D. What was to be demonsthrated ! " and 
 Phelim took snuff, as usual. 
 
 " Admirably demonstrated indeed ! " said De Lacy, 
 maintaining his gravity ; " but, if the matter in dispute 
 be ball-playing or wrestling, would not the surest 
 method of settling the business be, to play an equal 
 match of either of the given games, instead of beating 
 each other ? " 
 
 11 Arrah, what else do we do ? " said Rory. 
 
 " You always fight instead." 
 
 " But how can we help that ? Sure, we always do 
 challenge each other to play a match of ball or hurl- 
 ing, and thin, in the coorse of play, one man gives a 
 false ball, or another cuts it, and thin there 's a dis- 
 pute about it ; or in hurlin', the same way, in the 
 hate of the game, maybe the fellow before you is jist 
 goin' to have the ball all to himself, and you afther 
 him, hot foot, what can you do but give him a thrip ? 
 and away he goes head over heels, and if he 's not 
 disabled, there 's a chance he loses his timper, and 
 
199 
 
 comes to thrip you, when, maybe he is not so ne- 
 cessiated to thrip you as you wor to thrip him, and 
 that does n't stand to rayson in your opinion, and 
 maybe you can't help givin' him a clip o' the hurl, 
 and down he goes ; and thin, maybe, one o' his 
 barony sees that, and does n't think it raysonable, and 
 slaps at you, and so on it goes like fire among flax, 
 and the play turns into a fight in no time ; and, 
 indeed, in the long-run we find 't is the best way of 
 arguin' the point, for there might be some fractious 
 sperits would dispute about the fairness o' this play, 
 or the fairness o' that play, and that it was an acci- 
 dent settled the game ; but when it comes to rale 
 fightin', there can be no words about it, for, you 
 see, when you dhrive every mother's son o' them 
 before you, and fairly leather them out o' the field, 
 there can be no mistake about it." 
 
 u But does not that produce bad blood amongst 
 you ? " said De Lacy. 
 
 " By no manes," said Rory j " why should it ? 
 Sure, have n't they the chance of wollopin' us the 
 next time ? " 
 
 "And that perpetuates the dispute," said De Lacy. 
 
 "To be sure," said Rory, "that's the fun of it. 
 Oh, it would only be a cowardly thing to be always 
 fightin' a party you were sure to bate ! there would 
 be an end of the glory intirely." 
 
 " All party," thought De Lacy, " is like Rory's 
 game of hurling ; those who are out endeavour to trip 
 up those who are in, and, in conclusion, the only 
 game left is to leather them out of the field; when there 
 can be no mistake about it." 
 
 It was the next day following Rory's and Phelim's 
 eloquent, lucid, and reasonable exposition of the ne- 
 cessity and propriety of party fights, that the fair was 
 holden, and the party, as already named, started for 
 
200 Rory 'More 
 
 the scene of amusement ; Conolly having the 
 honour of being gentleman in waiting on Mary 
 O'More, handing her over stiles, &c. ; Phelim and 
 Rory bearing De Lacy company. 
 
 On arriving at the scene of action, they found the 
 fair tolerably " throng," as the phrase is in Ireland ; 
 and the moment they were well on the ground, 
 Conolly commenced the series of gallantries which 
 every aspirant to a pretty girl's favour goes through 
 on a fair-day, by buying a large stock of gingerbread 
 cakes, which appeared to have been made of brown 
 paper and treacle, and apples to match, and requesting 
 the whole party, including De Lacy, who was most 
 politely solicited, to partake of the feast. Now, when 
 people are at fairs, it is a point of honour to eat and 
 drink, and see all that you can, in short, till you 
 can eat, and drink, and see no more; and all the party 
 present, except De Lacy, seemed determined their 
 honour should not be called in question. The cake 
 and apple stands were generally formed by the com- 
 mon car of the country being backed into whatever 
 position it could take up on the fair-ground ; and the 
 horse being unyoked, a forked pole of sufficient 
 strength was stuck in the ground, and the back-band 
 of the car being deposited between the prongs, it at 
 once obtained support ; after which some wattles 
 (long supple boughs) being bent over the vehicle, a 
 quilt was thrown across these rustic rafters, to form 
 an awning, and the cakes and apples were spread on 
 some sacks, perhaps, or something equally coarse, 
 any thing, in short, to cover the bare boards of the 
 car, that probably carried a load of sand or earth, or 
 something not so agreeable, the day before, and was 
 now at once converted into a cake-shop. In one 
 corner of the concern, a glass and a black bottle, 
 with something in /V, were to be seen; and under the 
 
Rory 'More 201 
 
 car, from the middle of a bundle of straw, you might 
 perceive the muzzle of a large jar protruding, whence 
 the black bottle could be replenished as occasion 
 required. 
 
 Booths were erected for the accommodation of those 
 who chose to dance, and drink to refresh themselves ; 
 and both these amusements, that is to say, dancing 
 and drinking, seemed to be the staple commodities 
 or the fair, even at an early hour; but the dancing- 
 tents were not in their full glory till much later in 
 the day. 
 
 There was throwing for gingerbread, and other 
 amusements incidental to such scenes; but nothing 
 very stirring in this line seemed as yet to have set in. 
 So the party strolled on through the crowd ; Rory re- 
 marking to De Lacy as they went, that he told him 
 there would be little or no fun u And you see how 
 quiet they are," said Rory. 
 
 " God save you, Phelim," said a well-dressed peasant. 
 
 " God save you kindly," answered Phelim. 
 
 " How does the gossoons do without you, Phelim, 
 agra?" 
 
 " Oh, I gev the craythurs a holiday," said Phelim. 
 " I don't like to be too hard on them. Exercise 
 is good for the gossoons when they are at college, 
 for larnin' lies heavy on the stomach." 
 
 " Thrue for you, Phelim. Not that I know much 
 about larnin' ; but 1 know you must n't brake the 
 heart of a young cowlt." 
 
 And so saying, off Phelim's friend went. 
 
 They now approached a portion of the fair where 
 sales of cattle were going forward. 
 
 " How is the bastes goin' ? " said Rory to a farmer. 
 
 " Indeed, it 's back they '11 be goin'," said the 
 farmer : " there 's no prices at all here that is, for 
 bastes; but I hear pigs is lively." 
 
202 Rory 0" More 
 
 " What 's thim I see up on the hill ? " said Rory. 
 u Is it sogers ? " 
 
 " No less," said the farmer ; " though, indeed, 
 they might save themselves the throuble, they kem 
 here to watch us ; but there won't be a blow sthruck 
 to-day." 
 
 " Thrue for you," said Rory ; and so they parted. 
 
 They next approached a show-box, where an ex- 
 hibition of Punch and Judy seemed to give great 
 amusement. That interesting domestic history was 
 about half-way through when our hero and his party 
 arrived ; and Rory had been telling in a hasty manner 
 to Mary the nature of Punch's adventures, as they 
 approached. " Make haste, now," said Rory, " for 
 it 's better nor a play. I seen a play when I was in 
 Dublin ; but Punch and Judy is worth two of it. 
 Run ! run ! there he is goin' to kill his wife and child, 
 the comical owld blackguard ! " 
 
 They arrived in time to witness the death of Mrs. 
 Punch and the child, and then the doctor was sent 
 for. The doctor made his appearance; and Punch, 
 after his legitimate squeak began, 
 
 " Docta-w-r ! " 
 
 " Sare ? " said the doctor. 
 
 " Can you cure my wife ? " 
 
 " Yes, sare." 
 
 " What will you give her ? " 
 
 " Some ghost's milk." 
 
 Rory started, " By all that 's good that 's himself! " 
 said he. 
 
 " Why, is it a rale docthor ? " said Mary. 
 
 " No, no," said Rory. " I was only " he 
 
 paused, and withdrawing ' from Mary, he beckoned 
 De Lacy from the group, and said, " That 's Mr. 
 Devilskin that 's there," pointing to the show-box. 
 
 " Where ? " said De Lacy. 
 
Rory O'More 203 
 
 " There," said Rory, pointing again ; " inside the 
 show-box. I 'd take my oath it 's him. I thought I 
 knew his voice at first, but I'd sware to the ghost's 
 milk." 
 
 And so it was De Welskein. It has been said he 
 was fond of intrigue and adventure, and he was quite 
 in his element in thus masquerading it through the 
 country ; and while he was sowing rebellion from his 
 love of revolution, and reaping profit from his tobacco, 
 it was pride and glory to him to be playing the buf- 
 foon at the same time, which was at once a source of 
 pleasure and security ; for the smuggler was never 
 long in one spot, but changing to different places in 
 different characters. 
 
 " I want to see him," said De Lacy, " and am 
 glad of this chance-meeting. We must watch an 
 opportunity to speak to him when the show is over." 
 
 While they were waiting for this, a group of horse- 
 men approached the show, and Rory amongst them 
 saw Squire Ransford, the parson, Sweeny, and Scrubbs ; 
 the latter engaged in conversation with " the colonel," 
 he who had given Rory his freedom and his pass. 
 Rory saw there was nothing for it but to retreat, as, 
 if he were seen, his whole finesse about Mrs. Scrubbs 
 would be blown, he would get into trouble, and his 
 name be in the colonel's possession, who, it will be 
 remembered, had never, in his hurry to dismiss our 
 hero, asked who he was. Therefore, screening him- 
 self behind De Lacy, he told him how matters stood, 
 and taking Mary and Conolly with him, he left De 
 Lacy with Phelim for a guide. "If we don't meet 
 again in the fair," said Rory, " we must only wait till 
 we go home ; " and he retired rapidly from the spot 
 unobserved by the horsemen who had caused his 
 sudden retreat. Appointing then a place of rendez- 
 vous with Mary and Conolly, Rory left them, and 
 
204 Rory 0' More 
 
 they returned to witness the finale of Punch and 
 Judy. 
 
 Rory pushed his way through the principal row of 
 booths, where the dancing and drinking were going 
 on prosperously, and entering that under whose sign 
 his appointed meeting with his sister and her cavalier 
 was to take place, he sat down, and calling for a 
 small portion of drink, refreshed himself, intending 
 when that was over to rest himself with dancing. 
 While he sat, he perceived Regan and Kathleen enter 
 at the farther end of the booth, and his heart bounded 
 at the sight of the girl he loved ; but his joy was 
 damped at the thought that in her brother's presence 
 he had better not approach her. To his unspeakable 
 joy, however, he saw Regan depart, leaving Kathleen, 
 after speaking a few words to her ; and when he was 
 some seconds gone, Rory moved towards the girl of 
 his heart gaily, and, as her head was turned away, he 
 proposed surprising her by his presence; so approach- 
 ing unobserved, he tapped her smartly on the shoulder, 
 and had his most winning smile ready to meet her 
 when she should turn. When she did turn, instead 
 of the flush of joy which Rory anticipated, a deadly 
 paleness and a look of reserve 'were on the counte- 
 nance of Kathleen, and Rory's blood ran cold to his 
 heart. 
 
 " What 's the matther, Kathleen dear ? " said 
 Rory. Kathleen could not answer. 
 
 " What is the matther ! for God's sake, tell 
 me ! " said Rory impressively, for he saw by the 
 girl's manner that an unfavourable impression had 
 been made upon her as regarded him. 
 
 " Rory," said Kathleen with that reproachful tone 
 which an offended woman only can assume, 
 " Rory," said she, " need you ask me ? " 
 
 " What have I done, Kathleen jewel ? " 
 
Rory 'More 205 
 
 tt Oh, Rory ! so soon to desaive and think light 
 o' me!" 
 
 " Me, Kathleen ! by all that 's good 
 
 " Whisht, Rory whisht ! swaring won't make 
 it betther." 
 
 " But what is it, Kathleen ? " 
 
 " Oh, Rory ! don't be so desaitful. You know 
 you 've wronged me ! " 
 
 " By this blessed light ! I never wronged you, 
 Kathleen!" There was something bearing such 
 inherent evidence of sincerity in Rory's manner, that 
 Kathleen hesitated for a moment, and looked inquir- 
 ingly into his face ; but suddenly withdrawing her 
 eyes and dropping her voice, she said, " I 'd willingly 
 b'lieve you, Rory, but " 
 
 " But what ? " said Rory. 
 
 "I don't like to accuse you, but you know " 
 
 again she paused. 
 
 " What ? " said Rory impatiently. 
 
 " The cellar," said Kathleen. The word was 
 enough. With all that magic rapidity of thought 
 which instantaneously links a chain of circumstances 
 together, Rory saw that his conduct in De Welskein's 
 cellar had been misrepresented ; and when he remem- 
 bered how the girl he had danced with had fastened 
 herself upon him, he could not but see that circum- 
 stances might be made to bear hard against him in 
 the opinion of the woman he was courting he 
 was silenced by Kathleen's one word and she mis- 
 taking his silence for guilt, was rising to leave the 
 booth, when Rory, taking her hand and pressing it 
 closely, said, . 
 
 u Kathleen, you wrong me ; I know what you 
 mane, but " 
 
 " Let go my hand," said Kathleen. " You had 
 betther look for the hand of the lady you like so 
 
206 Rory O'More 
 
 much; I b'lieve you can find her in the fair;" and 
 she again made an effort to go, but Rory still detained 
 her. 
 
 " Kathleen," said he, " it is only Shan Dhu could 
 tell you this, and I did not think he had so black a 
 heart ; for by this light " 
 
 " Whisht ! " said Kathleen in terror, " lave me, 
 'ave me; Shan is coming back I see him." 
 
 " Well, promise to meet me till I clear myself to 
 you." 
 
 " Rory, don't be sthriving to desaive a poor girl 
 go, I tell you." 
 
 " I won't go unless you promise." 
 
 " If you 've any pity for me, go ; Shan is close 
 by." 
 
 u Promise ! " said Rory impressively. 
 
 " I will, then," said Kathleen faintly. 
 
 " Meet me by the rath, near the bridge," said 
 Rory, " to-morrow evening. God bless you, Kath- 
 leen, and never b'lieve I have the heart "base enough 
 to wrong you ! " 
 
 So saying, he kissed her hand passionately before 
 she could withdraw it, and slipping out through an 
 opening in the side of the booth, he left it without 
 being perceived by Regan. Poor Rory was heartsick 
 at the thought of Kathleen's coldness, and he 
 looked forward with the impatience and longing of a 
 child for the morrow's evening, which he hoped would 
 serve to chase every doubt from her mind. While 
 he was moving through the crowd, his attention was 
 attracted by a party of mummers, who were parading 
 up and down on a platform, in dirty rags sprinkled 
 with rusty spangles, and amongst them he recognised 
 the girl that had been so sweet on him in the cellar; 
 he then remembered Kathleen's saying, " I b'lieve 
 you can find her in the fair," and the thought struck 
 
Rory O'More 207 
 
 mm that Regan might have even pointed out the 
 flourishing damsel before him as his paramour, and 
 Rory's shame was increased, for, with her ruddled 
 cheeks, short petticoats, and shabby finery, she was a 
 most disgusting object, though rather a fine girl. 
 While Rory looked at her, he fancied he caught her 
 eye ; and its brazen glare was for a moment darkened 
 by a demoniac expression, and instantly withdrawn. 
 He wished more and more for the evening of the 
 morrow. On he went through the main chain of 
 tents, but seeing the squire and colonel approaching 
 again, he took a short turn round one of the booths 
 and avoided them ; and making a detour, he returned 
 to the place where he had appointed Mary and 
 Conolly to meet him, where he found them waiting. 
 Joining company, they commenced another ramble 
 through the fair, and at length reached a booth whence 
 there proceeded much laughter, and at the door of 
 which a bespangled buffoon was inviting the people 
 to enter and see the wonderful conjuror who could 
 tell fortunes on cards and cure all sorts of diseases. 
 This promised much diversion, and the laughter con- 
 tinuing to appeal to the curiosity of those outside, a 
 fresh party, including our hero, his sister, and her 
 admirer, entered. Here they saw a man in a bag-wig 
 and cocked-hat, laced coat and ruffles, performing 
 various sleight-of-hand tricks with cards, and other 
 feats of legerdemain ; and after making his beholders' 
 eyes the size of saucers with wonder, and their mouths 
 of equal capacity, he proceeded to offer for sale various 
 nostrums for the cure of diseases ; amongst others, 
 he produced one which he protested most solemnly 
 was superior to ghost's milk. 
 
 " Devilskin again ! " said Rory to himself; " Devil- 
 skin, sure enough ! more than the skin, by my 
 sowl, for I think he 's the d 1 himself! " 
 
208 Rory O'More 
 
 Here was another metamorphose of the French- 
 man. He was in his glory : he had a stall in the 
 fair, in good hands, for the sale of tobacco, and he 
 was masquerading it and making money in another 
 quarter : a French agent in the middle of the fair, 
 where the army were lookers-on to see that no mis- 
 chief was going forward ; this was his glory, the 
 intrigue and romance delighted him. 
 
 Rory left the booth he did not wish to meet De 
 Welskein's eye : not that he feared him he could 
 not tell very well himself the precise cause of his dis- 
 like to be recognised by the smuggler; but there was 
 an undefined feeling about Rory, that rather shrunk 
 from having any thing to do with one who seemed 
 invested with mysterious power. 
 
 He awaited outside the booth the egress of his sister 
 and Conolly, who suggested that it was time to get 
 something for dinner. To this Rory assented ; for, 
 notwithstanding that his meeting with Kathleen had 
 damped his enjoyment, his appetite was of too keen 
 and hale a nature to be influenced by a frown from 
 his mistress, as those of more refined lovers are said 
 to be. 
 
 " Not that I 'm very hungry," said Rory. 
 
 " 'Faith, then I am," said Conolly ; " for exceptin' 
 five or six dozen o' gingerbread and a score o' apples 
 or so, between us, Mary and I have not tasted any 
 thing to signify." 
 
 "You were drinking my health very often, too," 
 said Mary. 
 
 "Phoo, what signifies three or four quarts o' 
 porther ! " 
 
 While we leave this hungry party looking for their 
 dinner, let us return to De Lacy and Phelim, whom 
 we left opposite De Welskein's show-box. 
 
 De Lacy took his opportunity of speaking to the 
 
Rory O'More 209 
 
 smuggler, whom he followed by signal to a booth ; 
 and leaving Phelim standing outside, he entered the 
 booth, and a rude curtain was drawn across the ori- 
 fice by which they came in. De Lacy now found 
 himself in a small canvas apartment, from which, 
 through the division in another curtain, he saw into a 
 large space beyond the sentry-box sort of place in 
 which he stood. 
 
 "Dis my teatre," said De Welskein. 
 
 " What do you want a theatre for ? " 
 
 u To 'muse mysef blind de vulgare mak 
 romaunce y aime les aventures^ vous savez, monsieur " 
 
 "I thought, smuggling " 
 
 " Sare ! " said De Welskein with dignity. 
 
 " I mean, your mercantile pursuits would have 
 given you enough of employment." 
 
 41 Bah! bagatelle! ever boddee can be mar- 
 chand ; bote for les intrigues " 
 
 "That requires a man of genius," said De Lacy. 
 
 "Ah! b'leeve so, indeet," said De Welskein 
 with great self-complacency. 
 
 " But then your political mission, is not that 
 enough to fill up any spare time you can withhold 
 from your mercantile pursuits ? " 
 
 " Yais c'est vrai ordinairement for most pee- 
 pel ; but me love intrigue romaunce ha ! ha ! 
 
 besise more hard for discover to certen persun. 
 Dis day, marchand to-mawrow, Ponshe an' Joodee 
 
 now me shange agen." 
 
 Here he threw off his coat, and proceeded to take 
 out of a canvas bag that lay under some straw in a 
 corner, the laced coat and cocked-hat, wig, &c. in 
 which Rory subsequently saw him attired. 
 
 " Now, me go play Doctair Duck." 
 
 " What character is that ? " said De Lacy. 
 
 " Quaak, quaak, quaak," said De Welskein, with a 
 VOL. i. 14 
 
210 Rory O'More 
 
 spirit and vivacious expression worthy of the comedy 
 for which his country is so famous. 
 
 De Lacy laughed " And do you get fees ? " 
 
 " Certanlee : no fee, no docteur ; sell leetle peels 
 cure every ting better dan ghost's milk, Besise," 
 said he, pulling cards from his pocket, "here more 
 ting hocus-pocus poots cards in fool's pauket 
 ha ! ha ! mak dem stare tink me de divil." 
 
 " They 're not far out," thought De Lacy. 
 
 De Welskein having completed his attire, painted 
 his face, rubbed burnt cork on his eye-brows, and 
 shaken flour into his wig, held some short conversa- 
 tion on the state of affairs over the water; and De 
 Lacy, thinking it better not to remain too long in 
 such company, brought his conference to a close as 
 soon as possible ; and after telling De Welskein 
 where he could find him, he drew the ragged curtain, 
 and emerged from the tiring-room of the adventurer. 
 Having rejoined Phelim, he asked him what was to 
 be done next, for he determined to let Phelim do the 
 honours of the fair. 
 
 " I hear there is a pig in the fair, sir," said the 
 cicerone. 
 
 "I 've seen some hundreds already," said De Lacy. 
 
 " Oh, you 're very smart on me now," said Phelim, 
 "and take me up short; but the pig I mane is a 
 larned pig." 
 
 " Indeed ! where is he to be seen ? " 
 
 " Somewhere up here, I hear. Now I 'd like to 
 see that above all things ; for though I know to my 
 cost that some childhre is no betther than pigs, either 
 in manners nor intellex, I have yet to be insensed how 
 a pig can be equal to a Chrishthan." 
 
 They soon came within hearing of a fellow who 
 was roaring at the top of his voice, 
 
 " Walk in ! walk in! walk in, ladies and gintlemin; 
 
Rory O'More 211 
 
 here is the wondherful larned pig that knows the five 
 quarthers o' the world, and more; together with 
 his A. B. C. and apperceeand and goes through 
 his alphibbit backwars ; together with addishin, 
 substhracshin, multiplicashin, and divishin; knows 
 numerashin, minshurashin, navigashin, and bothera- 
 shin" (Here the crowd always laughed.) "To- 
 gether with varrious accomplishments too numerous 
 to be minshind, smokes tabakky and tells cunnun- 
 dherums." 
 
 " Oh ! do you hear the lies he 's tellin' ! " said 
 Phelim; "sure no pig could do the like, barring one 
 pig that is minshind in anshint histhery." 
 
 " I don't remember that pig, Phelim," said De Lacy. 
 
 "Pig maylius ! " said Phelim, bursting in tri- 
 umph at having caught De Lacy in one of his old 
 and favourite jokes. 
 
 De Lacy could not help laughing at the poor old 
 man's whimsical conceit ; and complimenting him 
 on his wit, he proposed to Phelim that they should 
 see if what was promised of the pig were true. 
 
 " Impossible i " said Phelim ; " it 's only throwing 
 away money." 
 
 " We '11 see, at all events," said De Lacy, who 
 paying sixpence, which was twopence more than was 
 required for two admissions, he and the schoolmaster 
 walked up a low step-ladder, which led to the place 
 of exhibition, deafened, as they passed the crier, by his 
 vociferating, "Step up, ladies ! jist goin' to begin. 
 Step up, step up all for tuppince only tuppince; 
 the larned pig, only tuppince for minsurashin, midita- 
 shin, contimplashin, navigashin, and fow-therashin ! " 
 
 When the company had been collected in sufficient 
 quantity, a shrewd-looking fellow, fantastically dressed, 
 led in a pig by a string which was fastened to a ring 
 in the animal's nose. 
 
212 Rory O'More 
 
 The pig ascended a circular platform, in the middle 
 of which a pole was placed, and round the circle 
 were several holes cut. 
 
 " Now, ladies and gintlemin," said the showman, 
 " this is the larned pig, that is perfect masther of 
 varrious branches of idicashin ; and first and fore- 
 most, he will show you his knowledge of the five 
 quarthers o' the world, aiqual to Captain Cook that 
 purformed the circumlocution of the globe. Excuse 
 me, ladies, till I give him his insthrucshins." 
 
 Here he put his mouth to the pig's ear, and the 
 pig grunted. " He says he is happy to have the 
 honour of your company, ladies." 
 
 Here the showman was encouraged by a laugh from 
 the spectators, who, all being willing to be pleased, 
 laughed at a trifle. 
 
 " What did he say to him, do you think ? " said 
 Phelim to De Lacy confidentially. 
 
 " I suppose he gave him a pig's whisper," said De 
 Lacy. 
 
 " Good, sir, good," said Phelim, " by dad ! you 're 
 always ready a pig's whisper! well I'll never 
 forget that ! " 
 
 The showman now laid four pieces of card, with 
 the names of the four quarters of the world written 
 upon them, over four holes on the opposite parts of 
 the circle, and said, 
 
 " Now, ladies, which o' the five quarthers o' the 
 world shall this wondherful scholar show you? 
 Europe, Asia, Afrikay, or Amerikay ? " 
 
 " Amerikay, if you plaze, sir," said a woman, who 
 blushed excessively at hearing the sound of her own 
 voice in public. 
 
 " Sartinly, ma'am. Show the lady Amerikay, sir." 
 
 The animal now got a pull of the string, and he 
 began poking his nose round the circle, and at last 
 
Rory 0" More 213 
 
 stopped at the quarter named, and shoved the card 
 from over the hole. 
 
 Great applause followed, and the showman re- 
 warded the pig by giving him an acorn. De Lacy 
 saw at once how the trick was done ; but to Phelim's 
 question of " Arrah, how did he do that ? " he made 
 no reply for the present. 
 
 The showman was about to remove the cards, 
 when Phelim interrupted him : 
 
 " You said, sir, you 'd show the five quarthers o' 
 the world by manes o' your pig; and indeed if he 
 knows five quarthers, it 's more than I know." 
 
 " To be sure he knows more than you know," said 
 the showman. 
 
 A burst of merriment followed this hit : for many 
 of the spectators knew Phelim, and that a pig should 
 be said to know more than he did, delighted them. 
 When the laugh subsided Phelim continued : 
 
 " Maybe you don't know, my good fellow that 
 you are addhressing a philomath ? " 
 
 A what ? " 
 
 " A philomath, sir." 
 
 The showman now turned to the pig, and putting 
 his mouth to his ear, as before, said, 
 
 " Can you tell me what is a filly-mat ? " - The 
 pig grunted again. 
 
 " He says, a filly-mat is a grumblin' owld fellow." 
 
 Another laugh against Phelim succeeded the show- 
 man's buffoonery, whose practised effrontery was too 
 much for Phelim. Phelim, however, was too used to 
 triumph to give in so easily, particularly in the pres- 
 ence of so many who knew him ; and rallying once 
 more, he said, 
 
 " Well, if there is a fifth quarther o' the world, 
 will you be so good to tell the other brute there to 
 show it." 
 
214 Rory O'More 
 
 Phelim had the laugh on his side now. A laugh 
 is a main point of argument with Paddy ; and who- 
 ever has the last laugh, has the best of the battle in 
 Ireland. 
 
 The showman waited till the laugh was lulled, and 
 then addressing the pig, he said, 
 
 " Will you tell that ignorant owld fill-pot what the 
 fifth quarther of the world is ? " 
 
 The pig commenced rubbing himself against the 
 upright stick that stood in the middle of the circle, 
 much to the merriment of the crowd. 
 
 " There ! " said the showman triumphantly. 
 
 " Is that what you call answerin' the problem I 
 have propounded ? " said Phelim, who thought he 
 had vanquished his man, and got magniloquent in 
 consequence. "I propound to yiz all " 
 
 " If you were poundin' from this till to-morrow, 
 you 're nothing but a bosthoon" said the showman. 
 
 Phelim absolutely staggered at the degrading epithet 
 of bosthoon being applied to a philomath. The show- 
 man continued : 
 
 " Sure, if you wor n't an owld bogie, you 'd see 
 that the pig was pointin' out to you the fifth quarther 
 o' the world ; but the fact is, you don't know that 
 there is sitch a thing as the fifth quarther ; but," said 
 he, making a flourishing appeal to his audience, 
 " ladies and gintlemin, you see the baste has pointed 
 out to your comprehenshin the fifth quarter of the 
 terrestorial globe, which is the North Pole ! " 
 
 Phelim uttered an indignant " Oh ! " but his ex- 
 clamation was drowned in the vociferous plaudits of 
 the multitude. 
 
 " Lave the place ! lave the place ! " said Phelim to 
 De Lacy, bursting with rage : but De Lacy did not 
 like to lose the fun, and thought Phelim more divert- 
 ing than the pig. 
 
Rory O'More 215 
 
 " Stay," said De Lacy ; " you '11 expose his igno- 
 rance yet." 
 
 Thus tempted, Phelim remained, maintaining a 
 sulky silence, and watching for an opportunity of 
 annihilating the pig and the showman. 
 
 The fellow put his pig through some alphabetical 
 manoeuvres upon the same principle that the quarters 
 of the globe had been pointed out, though the trick 
 was unperceived by the spectators, who still continued 
 to be delighted. 
 
 " Now, ladies and gintlemin," said the proprietor 
 of the pig, " this divartin' baste will go through his 
 alphabit backwars." 
 
 " Maybe he could say the Lord's prayer back- 
 wards ? " said Phelim, wishing to be severe. 
 
 " That would rise the d 1, as every fool knows," 
 said the showman, " and that would not be agreeable 
 to the company ; otherwise he could do it aisy." 
 
 " Hurrup, Solomon ! " continued he, addressing 
 the pig (" He is called Solomon, ladies ; he is so 
 wise) ; go through your alphibit backwars." 
 
 Upon this the pig made a retrograde movement 
 round the circle, the showman exclaiming when he 
 had finished, " That 's doin' it backwars, I think ! " 
 
 The people were tickled with the quibble ; but 
 Phelim said, " That 's only a thrick" 
 
 u Well, it's my thrick, any how," said the showman 
 with readiness. " You have n't won a thrick yet." 
 
 Phelim was floored again. By a similar quibble, 
 the animal went through his multiplication-table. A 
 board, with a multiplication-table upon it, had a 
 swinging door hung in the middle ; and this being 
 placed before the pig, he walked through it. 
 
 Some of the spectators asked to see the pig " smoke 
 tobakky," as one of the things promised. 
 
 " He would with pleasure, ladies, but he bruk his 
 
216 Rory O'More 
 
 pipe in the last exhibishin, and there is not one con- 
 vaynient," was the answer ; " but, what is much more 
 curious, he will answer connundherums. Tell me, 
 sir," said he, addressing the pig, " what does the ladies 
 say when they are angry with their husbands ? " 
 
 The pig grunted furiously. This was the triumph 
 of the day ; the men laughed outrageously, and even 
 the women could not help joining ; and a jolly-look- 
 ing fellow in front cried out, 
 
 " By the powers, Molly, that 's as like you as two 
 pays ! " Another shout followed this sally. 
 
 " Now, sir," said the showman, " what does the 
 girls say when the boys is coaxin' them ? " 
 
 The pig gave a prolonged squeal. 
 
 It was now the young men's turn to laugh, and 
 many a pinched elbow of a pretty girl, at the moment, 
 caused a chorus to the pig's squeal. This was the 
 finale : the pig retired amidst the plaudits of " an 
 admiring audience," who made their exit down the 
 step-ladder, to give place to others who were waiting 
 to go up. Phelim was silent for some time after he 
 left the booth, but at last broke out with, "That fel- 
 low 's a humbugger ! " 
 
 "That 's his business," said De Lacy, "and there- 
 fore you can't give him higher praise than to say he 
 is a humbugger." 
 
 " And is that what you call praise ? " said Phelim 
 in offended wonder, for he thought De Lacy would 
 have sided with his wounded dignity. 
 
 " Certainly," said De Lacy. " Every man to his 
 calling." 
 
 " But is it respectable to be humbuggin' people ? " 
 
 " Oh; that 's quite another question, Phelim ; I '11 
 say nothing for the respectability ; but did n't you 
 perceive the trick by which he makes the pig point 
 out any letter or part of the world he 's desired ? " 
 
Rory O'More 217 
 
 Not I how could I ? " 
 
 " Well, I '11 tell you. You perceived there were 
 holes cut round the circular platform, and that a card 
 was always laid over a hole ? " 
 
 Yis, I did," said Phelim. 
 
 " Well, you perceived also, that whenever the pig 
 did a trick effectively, his master gave him an acorn ? " 
 
 " He gave him something, but I did n't know it 
 was an acorn." 
 
 " You know this is the time of their falling, and 
 there is nothing of which pigs are so fond." 
 
 41 And do you mane to say, sir, that if you feed a 
 pig on acorns, you '11 tache him to spell, and larn him 
 jography ? " 
 
 " No," said De Lacy, smiling : " but I mean, that 
 an acorn was the pig's reward ; but he would not 
 have got the reward if he had not found out the acorns. 
 Do you see the trick now ? " 
 
 " Why, thin, indeed, to say the thruth, I only per- 
 saive it afther a manner, like that is, not complate." 
 
 "Well, I '11 show it to you complate, then," said De 
 Lacy, who enjoyed the hesitation that Phelim evinced 
 to acknowledge that the showman's trick was beyond 
 him. 
 
 " You saw every card was placed over a hole ? " 
 
 "Yis." 
 
 " And that when the pig came to the right card, he 
 began to poke it with his snout ? " 
 
 " Yis." 
 
 " And can't you guess why ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " It was, because his master had a plate of acorns 
 attached to a stick, which he always placed under the 
 hole the card was over ; and so the pig went smelling 
 round the circle till he came to the acorns." 
 
 " Tare an' ouns ! what a chate ! " said Phelim. 
 
218 Rory O'More 
 
 " If the pig made a mistake, he got no acorn ; 
 when he found out the right hole, he was rewarded." 
 
 " Oh, the vagabone ! to make the people think 
 that a pig could be taught to know his letthers, and 
 jography, and, afther all, it 's only the nathur of the 
 brute baste is in it ! " 
 
 " And did you expect any more ? " 
 
 "To be sure I did," said the poor simple Phelim; 
 " and what 's worse, the people will b'lieve it, and 
 they '11 say / can't do as much with a Chrishthan child 
 as that vagabone can with a pig. Why, it 's enough 
 to ruin all the schoolmasthers in Ireland ! I '11 go 
 back and expose the villain." 
 
 " No, no, Phelim, you would n't do that ! " 
 
 " Why would n't I ? is n't it a common forgery on 
 people's undherstan'in's ? " And De Lacy was obliged 
 to lay his hand on the indignant philomath's arm to 
 restrain him. 
 
 u Phelim," said De Lacy, " you don't know but 
 that poor fellow has a wife and children to support ; 
 and if his humbugging, as you call it, is turned into 
 bread and milk for his little ones, you would n't be 
 the cause of making them feel hunger ? " 
 
 " God forbid, sir ! " said Phelim feelingly, his pride 
 giving place to his humanity. "Bread and milk, in- 
 deed ! Oh, thin, if it's but potatoes and salt he can 
 airn in such a good cause, may the Lord prosper 
 him ! " 
 
 It is time to return to Rory and his party whom 
 we left looking for their dinner. But to obtain this, 
 they found no such easy matter. They inquired at 
 various booths without success, for the day was fur- 
 ther spent than they imagined, and the viands con- 
 sumed. 
 
 Rory had been so absorbed between anxiety on 
 account of Kathleen, and wonder at De Welskein's 
 
Rory 0" More 219 
 
 Protean powers, that the day had passed over without 
 his being conscious of it ; and the various shows kept 
 the attention of Conolly and Mary so much on the 
 stretch, that they were equally unmindful of the flight 
 of time, and, as Mary herself said, " 'Faith, the day 
 went over like an hour, a'most." 
 
 They sought the long entrenchment of sunken 
 fires over which pots full of beef and cabbage had 
 been u busy bilin' " when last they passed that way. 
 The fires were there 't is true, and so were the pots, 
 but no beef and cabbage : the solids had been de- 
 molished, and the huge iron pots had given place 
 to kettles, where water was " kept continually 
 bilin' " for the manufacture of punch. What was 
 to be done ? At this hour dinner was manifestly 
 a scarce thing, which fact increased their appetites ; 
 and even Rory himself, in spite of love and Kathleen, 
 began to feel the inward man making appeals to his 
 common sense. While things were in this state, 
 Rory saw a brace of ducks dangling from a string, 
 roasting before a fire at the end of one of the booths, 
 and a girl very busy attending the culinary process. 
 Rory's invention was immediately at work; and his 
 love of fun, joined to his desire for dinner, at once 
 suggested the notion of his making himself master 
 of the ducks. 
 
 So, desiring Conolly and his sister to secure a seat 
 as near as they could to where the birds were in 
 preparation, he spoke to the landlady of the booth, 
 and asked could they have dinner. She said they 
 had nothing but a little cold beef. 
 
 " Well, that same," said Rory. 
 
 So plates were laid, and knives and forks provided, 
 and the half-warm and ragged remains of some very 
 bad beef were placed before Rory and his party. 
 
 " That '11 do," said Rory, who, having thus con- 
 
220 Rory 0' More 
 
 trived to get the plates, &c. set about securing the 
 ducks. Feigning an excuse, he said to his paity, 
 " Don't begin till Jack comes to us, he '11 be here 
 by-an'-by : " and then turning to the girl who was 
 cooking the ducks, he kept up a conversation with 
 her, and made her laugh so often, that he got into 
 her good graces, and she fancied him the pleasantest 
 fellow in the world. At last, Rory, when he 
 thought the birds were nearly done, said to her, 
 seeing that her face was very dewy from her 
 occupation, 
 
 " I b'lieve it 's roasting thim ducks you are ? " 
 
 " 'Faith, it 's thim that 's roasting me, you mane," 
 said the girl. 
 
 " It 's dhry work, I 'm thinkin'," said Rory. 
 
 " Thrue for you," said the girl, " and no one to 
 offer me a dhrink." 
 
 " Suppose I 'd give you a dhrink ? " said Rory. 
 
 " Long life to you ! " said the girl, looking up at 
 him, and wiping down her face with a back stroke 
 of her red hand. 
 
 " Well, you must do something for me," said 
 Rory, " and I '11 give you a pot o' porther." 
 
 " God bless you ! " said the girl. 
 
 " Jist run down, thin, to Tim Donoghue's stan'in,' 
 it 's at the far end o' the sthreet, and get n.e 
 a ha'p'orth o' snuff, for I 'm lost with a cowld in my 
 head that I got through a hole in my hat." 
 
 " Go 'long wid you ! " said the girl, giving the 
 ducks a twirl. 
 
 " It 's thruth I 'm tellin' you," said Rory. 
 
 " Oh ! I dar n't lave the ducks," said she. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Rory in an insinuating tone, " jist 
 slip out here through the slit in the tint, and I '11 take 
 charge o' them till you come back. Here 's a hog for 
 you, and you may keep the change for yourself." 
 
Rory 'More 221 
 
 The " hog " was too much for the girl's prudence : 
 off she started to Tim Donoghue's ; and she was n't 
 ten steps from the place, when Rory had the pair of 
 ducks on the dish before his party, and, as Rory 
 himself said in telling the story after, " the sorrow 
 long they wor in making jommethry of the same 
 ducks." 
 
 When the girl came back and saw the skeletons 
 of the birds she had left in tempting plumpness 
 before the fire, she, in the language of Conolly, 
 " screeched a thousand murdhers, and riz the tint." 
 
 " Oh ! the ducks, the ducks ! " cried the girl. 
 
 " Oh ! you baggage, are they spylte ? " said Mrs. 
 Molloy, the landlady, rushing to the spot on hearing 
 the uproar. 
 
 " No, indeed, ma'am," said Rory very quietly, 
 picking the bones of one of them at the same time ; 
 " they are not spylte, for they wor as fine ducks as 
 ever I put a tooth in." 
 
 " Oh, God be good to me ! " said the woman, 
 with a look of despair ; " is it ating Mr. Regan's 
 wild ducks you are ? " 
 
 Now this " took Rory aback," as sailors say. He 
 would rather that he had not hit upon Regan's 
 ducks for his frolic : but, as chance had so ruled it, he 
 determined to follow up his joke ; so he answered, 
 
 " In throth, ma'am, I did n't know whose ducks 
 they wor; and as for their being wild, I never found 
 it out ; and, 'pon my conscience, I think they are 
 a'most as good as if they wor tame." 
 
 " But they wor Mr. Regan's ducks ! " 
 
 "I didn't know that, ma'am : I supposed they 
 wor yours; and when I kem to your tint for en- 
 thertainment, I thought I had a right to whatever 
 ateables was in it, as well as another." 
 
 " Oh ! what '11 Mr. Regan say ?" 
 
222 Rory O'More 
 
 " He '11 say what he has to say for himself," said 
 Regan, who, on hearing that his ducks had been 
 taken by Rory O'More, became exceedingly wroth, 
 and swaggered up to the scene of action. On his 
 arrival there, he saw Conolly sitting beside Mary 
 O'More, and this, as Roiy said when speaking of 
 the affair after, " roused the divil in him ; " so, chang- 
 ing his attack, which was intended for Rory, upon 
 Conolly, he said, addressing the latter in a menacing 
 tone, 
 
 " How dar you take my ducks ? " Conolly was in 
 the act of rising, when Rory laid his hand on his 
 shoulder, and said, "Sit down this is no affair of 
 yours." 
 
 In doing this, Rory was actuated by a double 
 motive. In the first place, had the quarrel been 
 established between Conolly and Regan, he knew 
 that his sister's name would be mixed up with it, 
 and his intuitive sense of delicacy recoiled at the 
 thought of Mary's name being connected with a 
 brawl at a fair ; secondly, in point of fact he was 
 the person who had committed the act complained of 
 and Rory was not the man to let another fight 
 his battle. So, turning to Regan, he said, 
 
 " It was I tuk the ducks, Shan Conolly had 
 nothing to do with it ; and if I have disappointed 
 you of your dinner, I 'm sorry for it, and I hope 
 that 's satisfaction enough. And for you, Mrs. 
 Molloy, I beg your pardon if I tuk what I had no 
 right to, and all I can do is to pay you for the 
 ducks." And he offered her his hand full of silver 
 to take the price from. 
 
 " Take your money out o' that ! " said Regan 
 fiercely, accompanying the words with a shove that 
 scattered Rory's shillings over the table and the 
 ground. " The ducks were not Mrs. Molloy's ducks, 
 
Rory O'More 223 
 
 but mine, and I don't want to be paid for what I 
 did n't intend to sell ; and all I 've to say is, that 
 I recommend you not to make away with any thing 
 belonging to me for the future." 
 
 There was an emphasis on " belonging to me " that 
 Rory felt was meant to allude to Kathleen ; but that 
 was not so offensive as the phrase " make away," 
 which being a common form of parlance in Ireland 
 for any thing that is illegally taken, roused Rory's 
 indignation. 
 
 " Regan," said he, u what I did, I did in a joke ; 
 and I have said in good temper, and with a hope of 
 making friends, all that ought to satisfy a man that 
 wished to be a friend ; and if afther that you wish to 
 make a quarrel of it, and mane to throw an affront on 
 me, I tell you, Regan, it 's what I won't take from 
 you." 
 
 " I wish you had been as particular about my 
 ducks," said Regan, walking off. 
 
 " If I tuk your ducks, Regan, I won't take your 
 impidince," said Rory, disengaging himself from 
 behind the table. 
 
 Mary attempted to stop him, but Conolly prevented 
 her, knowing the fatal consequences of a man being 
 hampered with a woman in a fray. " The best 
 thing you can do," said he, " is to lave his hands 
 loose, for he '11 have need o' them soon." Then 
 handing over Mary to the care of an elderly man, he 
 said, " Jist take care o' the colleen while I see fair 
 play ; " and he was at Rory's side in an instant. 
 
 There was no time to spare, for Regan turned 
 round at Rory's last word and said, " Did you say 
 impidince to me ? " 
 
 " I did," said Rory. 
 
 The words were no sooner uttered than Regan 
 made a tremendous blow at him ; but rage and 
 
224 Rory O'More 
 
 liquor (for he had been drinking) had deprived him 
 of his usual power in such matters, and Rory easily 
 warded his blow, returning one so well planted, that 
 Regan measured his length on the floor of the booth. 
 
 He rose again, and two or three of his cronies 
 rallied round him, while Conolly and the lovers of fair 
 play saw that nothing foul should befall Rory. 
 
 From the fury and intoxication of Regan the fight 
 was a short one. After his first fall, Rory requested 
 that his opponent's friends would " take him away, as 
 he was n't fit to fight ; " but this only increased 
 Regan's rage, and he rushed again upon his man. 
 But it was an easy conquest for Rory, though Regan 
 was superior in years and strength ; and the end of 
 the affair was, as Conolly and Rory's friends spread 
 far and wide over the country in relating the affair, 
 " That Rory O'More gave Regan the length and 
 breadth of as fine a licking as ever he got in his 
 life." 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 A MOONLIGHT MEETING; WITH ONE TOO MANY 
 
 FROM the presence of the military at the fair, 
 and the existence of the curfew-law at the period, 
 it became doubly necessary that the people assembled 
 should disperse in good time, and take their homeward 
 way. 
 
 De Lacy particularly felt the necessity of this, for, 
 circumstanced as he was, to have put himself within 
 reach of military-law would have been madness ; so 
 he and Phelim left the fair much earlier than Rory 
 and his party, for the " small scrimmage " after dinner 
 had occasioned some delay. It is not immediately 
 after a man has " settled the hash " of his enemy, 
 that he can coolly take up his hat (that is, if he has the 
 good luck not to have lost it in the fight), and pay 
 his tavern bill and depart in peace. The decencies 
 of social life must be observed : he must adjust his 
 ruffled attire, sit down to show his presence of mind, 
 and take a drink to quench his thirst for fighting is 
 thirsty work. Then, as in the case of Rory, one 
 must not be so uncivil as to turn one's back on the 
 congratulations of one's friends ; and there were many 
 who congratulated Rory, for Regan was a quarrel- 
 some fellow, and what, in fighting parlance, is called 
 a " troublesome customer ; " and such a man to get a 
 thrashing where it was least expected, excited great 
 satisfaction, and numerous were the shakings of hands, 
 slaps on the shoulder, and exclamations of admiration, 
 VOL. i. 15 
 
226 Rory O'More 
 
 that Rory had bestowed upon him, and several fresh 
 tumblers were called for to drink " his health, and 
 more power to bis elbow." 
 
 " Long life to you, your sowl ! " was said to him 
 on all sides " Musha health and power to you, 
 Rory, my boy ! but you done the thing complate. 
 Divil a purtier bit o' fight mysef seen this many a 
 day. Och ! but you have the owld blood o' the 
 O'Mores in you, ma bouchal ! " 
 
 When he could escape from the congratulation of 
 his friends, Rory, with his sister and Conolly, made 
 the best of their way home. There was not much 
 said on the way ; Mary saw that jealousy on Regan's 
 part had been the real cause of his savage conduct, 
 and therefore, with a woman's tact, she wished the 
 subject of the quarrel to be as little discussed as pos- 
 sible. This partly influenced Rory, too ; but with 
 him there was a more powerful cause of silence. 
 The events of the day were recalled, one by one, to 
 his memory ; and when he remembered all that had 
 passed between him and Kathleen, he more and more 
 regretted his fight with her brother, and feared it 
 might prove an additional obstacle to the course of his 
 " true love," which did not seem to be a bit more 
 likely to run smoother than it was wont to do in 
 Shakspeare's days ; and so he trudged on in silence, 
 anticipating the appointed meeting of the morrow, 
 and thinking all he should say to his Kathleen to 
 assure her of his truth. 
 
 Conolly guessed the cause of Mary's silence on the 
 subject of Regan's misdemeanour, and he had too 
 much wit about him not to know that the expression 
 of triumph at the defeat of a rival, in the hearing of 
 the woman for whom the rivalry existed would only 
 lower him in her opinion. 
 
 Thus, the concluding event of the preceding 
 
Rory 0* More 227 
 
 chapter, though it occupied the mind of each, yet, 
 from the causes assigned, all by common consent for- 
 bore to speak of it : therefore, as the predominant 
 impression on their minds was one that might not be 
 manifested in words, they pursued their way in com- 
 parative silence. 
 
 The moon was rising when the party reached the 
 end of the boreen that led to O'More's cottage, and 
 there Conolly parted company. When he was gone, 
 Rory told Mary to say nothing to his mother about 
 the fight. " 'T would only trouble her," said he, 
 " and there would be no use in it. Indeed, we 
 won't spake of it at home at all even to Mr. De 
 Lacy." 
 
 " I 'd rather myself it was so," said Mary ; " but, 
 Rory dear, won't the mother see 'the marks on you, 
 and suspect ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I 've no marks on me that she can know 
 of: the sulky thief never put the sign of his fist in 
 my face." 
 
 " Oh ! but I 'm glad o' that, Rory dear," said 
 Mary, " for it looks so ugly and disrespectable to 
 have the marks of fighting on a man's face." 
 
 " Well, sure I could n't help it if I had itself. 
 You know, Mary, 't was n't my fault." 
 
 " No, in throth, Rory ; and sure my heart sunk 
 within me when I seen you stand up, for I dhreaded 
 that horrid fellow was more than your match ; and 
 sure 't was brave and bowld o' you, Rory, ma chree, 
 to put yourself forninst him." 
 
 "I'm not afraid of him, the best day he ever 
 stept," said Rory ; " but as for to-day, he was too 
 full o' dhrink to give me any throuble, and it wint 
 agin my heart to sthreck a man that was in liquor, 
 only you seen yourself he would have it." 
 
 " Throth, Rory, you 've nothing to blame your- 
 
228 Rory O'More 
 
 self with," said Mary ; " you showed the hoighth o' 
 good temper." 
 
 Having reached the house, their conversation 
 ended. They found De Lacy and Phelim at supper, 
 which Rory and Mary helped to finish ; and after a 
 desultory conversation about the " humours of the 
 fair," to give the widow some idea of their day's 
 amusement, they separated for the night. 
 
 It was a night of repose to all under the widow's 
 roof except Rory. The excitement of the day, and 
 his anxious anticipation of the morrow, banished 
 slumber, and he rose at an early hour the following 
 morning, unrefreshed and feverish. He appealed to 
 that unfailing friend of a hot head, namely, spring 
 water, and by a plentiful deluge from the well, he 
 made himself as comfortable as he could during the 
 day, that to him seemed interminable. At length even- 
 ing arrived, and Rory hastened to the appointed place, 
 where he hoped to meet Kathleen, and clear himself 
 from the charges which had been made against him. 
 
 The place he named for their rendezvous was a 
 rath, near a bridge which crossed the river about 
 halfway between their respective residences. Rath 
 is the name given in Ireland to certain large circular 
 mounds of earth, by some called Danish forts. That 
 they were intended for purposes of defence, there is no 
 doubt ; but they are more likely the works of the 
 ancient Irish than the Danes. 
 
 The rath which Rory named stood near the bank 
 of the river, and probably was intended to defend the 
 passage of the stream, which in later days had been 
 traversed by a bridge of low small arches, such as 
 remain in great numbers in Ireland to this day, and 
 present specimens of early architecture more curious, 
 perhaps, than any thing else in the same way remain- 
 ing in Europe. To the inexperienced stranger it 
 
Rory 'More 229 
 
 would appear that a great deal of masonry had been 
 thrown away on the bridge in question, for there 
 were many arches which were quite dry at some 
 seasons ; but by those who know how rapidly the 
 streams in the vicinity of hills expand after heavy 
 rains, the knowledge of our forefathers in thus pro- 
 viding against such an exigency can be appreciated. 
 
 Rory arrived at the place of appointment earlier 
 than Kathleen, of course : there needs no master 
 of the ceremonies to tell that a lady must not be 
 kept waiting on such occasions. But as time wore 
 on, he began to feel impatience ; and then he ascended 
 the rath, and looked from its summit in the direction 
 he expected Kathleen to approach. Here he lingered, 
 in hope, till evening was closing, and the yellow disc 
 of the moon began to rise above the broad belt of 
 clouds which skirted the horizon ; then he began to 
 fear Kathleen had promised him only to be rid of his 
 importunity or that some fresh influence had been 
 exercised against him or that she believed the 
 calumny; which was worst of all. And so great 
 was his anxiety to remove such a fatal impression 
 from Kathleen's mind, that even in defiance of all 
 reasonable expectation of seeing her, he remained on 
 the rath and strained his sight, through the increasing 
 gloom, to catch the first glimpse of her he wished so 
 much to meet. Still, she came not ; and now the 
 moon, emerging from the vapour by which she had 
 been . enshrouded, rose above it in all her purity, no 
 longer dimmed by the yellow mist which had tarnished 
 her silvery brightness. Still Rory remained, although 
 he had given up the 
 
 "Last pale hope that trembled at his heart." 
 
 But as the moonlight became so bright, and as he 
 knew the danger of being abroad at such an hour, he 
 
230 Rory O'More 
 
 crouched in the trench on the summit of the rath, 
 and watched with his eyes above the embankment. 
 
 He had just arrived at the conclusion, in his own 
 mind, it was no use to wait any longer, when he 
 fancied he caught the outline of a figure moving 
 towards him ; it became more distinct it was a 
 woman's ; a moment more, and his heart told him it 
 was Kathleen. 
 
 He sprang to his feet, and running down the rath, 
 he reached the ditch that bordered the field in time to 
 offer his hand to Kathleen, and assist her over the 
 fence. They stood in bright moonlight ; and Rory 
 could see that an aspect of care was over Kathleen's 
 brow, which even his fervent welcome, and thanks, 
 and blessings, could not dispel. 
 
 " Let us get under the shadow of the bridge," said 
 Rory. 
 
 " No," said Kathleen with an air of reserve. 
 
 " Don't let us stand here, however," said Rory, 
 " so near the road, and the moon so bright." 
 
 " We can stand inside the rath," said Kathleen, 
 leading the way. 
 
 They soon stood in the trench of the fort, com- 
 pletely shadowed by the embankment, while the moon- 
 light fell brightly on the mound that rose within. 
 
 " God bless you, Kathleen, for keeping your 
 promise ! " said Rory fervently. 
 
 u Whatever you Ve to say, say quickly, Rory, for 
 I must not stay here long," replied Kathleen. 
 
 " Then tell me openly, Kathleen, what is it you 
 think you have to accuse me of, and I will explain it 
 all to your satisfaction." 
 
 " You left home for a day about three weeks 
 ago ? " said Kathleen. 
 
 " I did," said Rory. 
 
 " You went to the town beyant ? " 
 
Rory O'More 231 
 
 " I did," said Rory. 
 
 " You were in a cellar there ? " 
 
 " I was." 
 
 "And not in the best of company, Rory," said 
 Kathleen reproachfully. 
 
 "Worse than, I hope, I' 11 ever be in agin," said Rory. 
 
 " You own to that, thin ? " 
 
 " I '11 own to all that 's thrue," said Rory. 
 
 " Thin what have you to say about the girl that 
 you were so much in love with ? " 
 
 " In love with ! " said Rory indignantly. " Kath- 
 leen, there is but one girl on this earth I love, and 
 that 's yourself. I swear it by this blessed light ! " 
 
 Just as he spoke, as if the light which he adjured 
 had evoked a spirit to condemn him, a dark shadow 
 was cast on the mound before them ; and on their 
 both looking round, a figure enveloped in a cloak 
 stood on the embankment behind them. Kathleen 
 could not suppress a scream, and even Rory started. 
 
 " Is that what I hear you say ? " said this mysteri- 
 ious apparition. " Kathleen ! Kathleen ! he said the 
 same to me." 
 
 Kathleen could not speak, but stood with clasped 
 hands, in trembling astonishment, gazing with the 
 fascination of fear upon the figure that stood on the 
 bank above them. 
 
 " Who are you ? " said Rory. The figure was 
 about to turn, when Rory caught hold of the cloak in 
 which it was enveloped, and dragged the intruder 
 within the trench of the rath. 
 
 " Who are you ? " said Rory again, turning round 
 the person to face the light. 
 
 "Don't you know me, Rory O'More? " said the 
 unknown, who threw back the hood of her cloak at 
 the words, and the pale moonbeam fell on the face 
 of the frail one of the cellar. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 CONTAINING A COUNCIL OF LOVE AND A COUNCIL 
 OF WAR 
 
 TO account for the occurrence which concludes 
 the foregoing chapter, it becomes necessary to 
 revert to Kathleen after her return from the fair. 
 She had spent as restless a night as Rory, and after 
 considering for a long time the fitness of meeting him 
 clandestinely, after all she had heard, was still at a 
 loss how to act j she determined therefore to tell her 
 mother how matters stood, and ask her advice. Be- 
 tween the daughter and mother affection and good 
 understanding had always existed ; but of late there 
 had been an increasing confidence in and leaning 
 towards each other, resulting from the unruly con- 
 duct of the son, against whose aggression and way- 
 wardness Kathleen and her mother were obliged to 
 combine, and endeavour by union in the weaker 
 party to make a better defence against the tyranny 
 of the stronger. 
 
 Regan had not got up the morning succeeding the 
 fair, in consequence of the punishment he had received 
 from Rory, and was lying under some herbal treat- 
 ment of his mother's, in a room that was partitioned 
 off the principal apartment of the farmhouse, which 
 served not only for the kitchen, but for all the daily 
 purposes of the family. Kathleen had just come from 
 her brother's room, whither she had gone to offer any 
 attendance he might require, and gently closed the 
 door after her, thinking that he had fallen asleep, 
 
Rory 0' More 233 
 
 while in fact he had only indulged in a dogged silence 
 to her kind inquiries, and feigned slumber to be rid 
 of her. 
 
 Taking advantage of this opportunity, Kathleen 
 drew a seat near her mother, who was knitting, and 
 settling herself down to her spinning-wheel, she began 
 to work very industriously for some time in silence. 
 The hum of the wheel was interrupted in a minute or 
 two by a short cough ; and as Kathleen's fingers were 
 kept busy, and her eyes fixed upon them, so that she 
 need not have the necessity of meeting those of her 
 mother, there could not be a more favourable moment 
 for the opening of the delicate affair she had in hand ; 
 and so, after one or two more little coughs, she 
 ventured to say, " Mother." 
 
 It may be remarked, that when people have any 
 delicate subject to discuss, more particularly all affairs 
 of the heart, there is something in the mere sound of 
 their voices that gives you to understand what they 
 are about, before a word relating to the subject is 
 said. 
 
 Now, Kathleen's mother was as wise as mothers in 
 general are about such matters, seeing that they have 
 had such affairs of their own on their hands ; and so, 
 the very minute Kathleen said " Mother," that respect- 
 able individual knew what was coming just as well as 
 if she were a witch. 
 
 " Well, alanna ? " said the mother softly, coaxing 
 her child's heart out of its secrecy by the encouraging 
 tone of her voice, as a bird chirps its young for the 
 first time from the security of the nest. 
 
 " There 's something I wish to tell you," said 
 Kathleen. 
 
 " Well, darlin', I dar say it 's nothing but what 
 I '11 be glad to hear." 
 
 " I 'm afeard you '11 think me foolish, mother," 
 
234 Rory 'More 
 
 " Throth, I never seen the sign iv a fool an you 
 yet, a/anna bawn." 
 
 Here there was a pause, filled up only by the buzz 
 of the spinning-wheel. The mother thought she had 
 best break the ice ; so, with a tone of gentle pleasantry 
 in her manner, to deprive the subject of its sternness, 
 to " take the cold out of it," as it were, she said, 
 " I suppose some o' the boys has been talkin' to 
 you ? " 
 
 " Yis, ma'am," said Kathleen faintly, blushing up 
 to her ears at the same time, while the wheel went 
 round at a desperate rate and the thread was broken. 
 
 While Kathleen mended the thread of her spinning, 
 her mother took up that of the conversation. 
 
 " Well, dear, well and good, and why not? 
 Sure, it 's only raysonable, and what 's before us all in 
 our time when it 's God's will. And who 's the boy, 
 Kathleen dear ? " 
 
 Kathleen, after swallowing her breath three or four 
 times, said, " Rory O'More, mother." 
 
 "Sure, thin, but you're the happy "girl! God 
 bless you, child, and mark you to grace, to have the 
 very pick o' the counthry axint you ! " 
 
 " Indeed, I thought so myself, mother; but " 
 
 " But what, dear ? " 
 
 " Why, Shan, you know, mother." 
 
 "Yis, yis, dear;" and the mother sighed heavily. 
 It was some time before she could resume the con- 
 versation, and in the interim she raised her apron to 
 dry a tear that trickled down her cheek. How deep 
 is the guilt of the child who causes the tears of a 
 parent ! 
 
 " If Shan could n't get Mary O'More (and more 
 is his loss, indeed ! ), that is no rayson, darlin', that 
 you would n't have Rory." 
 
 " But Shan is very much agin it, mother." 
 
Rory 0" More 235 
 
 41 How do you know, dear ? " 
 
 " He suspects, somehow, that I had a liking for 
 him." 
 
 " Had a liking ! " said the mother. " Why, have nt 
 you a liking, Kathleen ? " 
 
 " Why, you see, mother, he towld me things of 
 him ; and if the things was thrue, Rory would n't be 
 as good as I thought him." 
 
 " How do you mane, darlin' ? " Here Kathleen 
 entered into an explanation of how Regan had poi- 
 soned her mind against Rory, and told her mother all 
 she had heard about the adventures of the cellar ; 
 how, subsequently, she had met Rory at the fair 
 of her coolness, of his disavowal of guilt, and request 
 that she would meet him to explain every thing. 
 
 " He said, ' This evening, at the rath, beside the 
 bridge '" 
 
 u Whisht ! " said the mother, pointing to Regan's 
 room ; " he 's awake." 
 
 And so he was, and heard the principal part of the 
 conversation between his mother and his sister ; and 
 it was in raising himself in the bed, the better to 
 catch the latter part of the discourse, that he had 
 alarmed the watchful ear of his mother : for poor 
 Kathleen was so absorbed in her subject, that she 
 quite forgot her proximity to her brother. 
 
 Regan now called for some one to attend him ; and 
 on his mother appearing, he said he was much re- 
 freshed by the last sleep he had, and would get up. 
 
 " Indeed, you 're betther where you are, Shan, for 
 to-day," said his mother. 
 
 " No, no, bed kills me ; it 's not fit for a man : 
 I '11 be the betther of some fresh air." 
 
 " Sure, you would n't go out, Shan, and your face 
 in that condition ? " said his mother. 
 
 " Thim who does n't like my face," said he, 
 
236 Rory 0' More 
 
 " need n't look at it ; " and despite of his mother's 
 entreaties, he proceeded to dress himself, which when 
 he had accomplished, he sallied forth. 
 
 " Why, thin, where can Shan be goin' ! " said 
 Kathleen. 
 
 " Oh, musha, how should I know ? " said the 
 mother. " He 's never aisy at home, God help 
 him ! " 
 
 " Well, mother, what do you think about my goin' 
 to the rath ? " 
 
 " I think you 'd betther go there, darlin' : I don't 
 think myself that Rory O'More would be as bad 
 as you wor made to b'lieve." 
 
 " Indeed, mother, it was agin' my heart I b'lieved 
 any thing bad of him." 
 
 "To be sure, darlin', and it's only fair to hear 
 what the boy has to say." 
 
 " Thin you think I may go ? " 
 
 " Yis, ma vourneen ; but in case evil tongues would 
 say any thing, I '11 go along wid you." 
 
 Kathleen, after some hesitation, said, " But maybe 
 Rory would be shy of seeing you, mother ? " 
 
 " Sartinly, dear, and I '11 only go along with you 
 convaynient to the rath. I '11 stay a thrifle behind 
 you, so that he won't see me ; but at the same time 
 I '11 be near enough, so that no one shall have the 
 occasion to say a light word o' you for there 's no 
 knowing what ill-natured tongues may invint." 
 
 This being settled, the mother and daughter awaited 
 the arrival of the evening the mother with interest, 
 the daughter with impatience. 
 
 In the mean time, Shan Dhu was not idle. He 
 had heard enough of the conversation between Kath- 
 leen and his mother to find that Rory's interest was 
 as strong with the latter as the former, and the thought 
 was poison to him. When he found the appointment 
 
Rory O'More 237 
 
 with Rory was to be kept, he determined to frustrate 
 the happy result which must ensue if it were permitted 
 to take place without the intervention of another 
 party, and he determined in his own mind who that 
 party should be. He was no stranger to the damsel 
 whose blandishments had been thrown away upon 
 Rory, and he found that a bitter hatred existed against 
 him in that quarter : nevertheless, though he must 
 have known that this could have arisen but from one 
 cause, he it was who was base enough to insinuate to 
 Kathleen that an attachment subsisted between the 
 girl and Rory. 
 
 It was to find this unfortunate woman Shan Regan 
 left his house. He knew where to seek her, and met 
 in her a ready person to act up to his wishes. He 
 held out the opportunity of gratifying her revenge 
 upon Rory thus : to blast his hopes with the girl 
 of his heart, by accusing him of treachery and false- 
 hood, and laying her shame to his charge. 
 
 To this the nymph of the cellar assented ; and thus 
 is accounted for her startling appearance at the rath, 
 which stunned with surprise our hero and Kathleen, 
 to whom we must now return. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 * 
 
 SHOWING THAT MOTHERS IN THE COUNTRY CONTRIVE 
 TO MARRY THEIR DAUGHTERS, THE SAME AS 
 MOTHERS IN TOWN 
 
 WHEN Kathleen saw the handsome features of 
 the woman who had been pointed out to her 
 on the platform at the fair disclosed in the moonlight, 
 she recognised them at once, for they were of that 
 striking character not easily forgotten ; and coming, 
 as she did, to the rath in the hope of having her 
 doubts of Rory's truth dispelled, and instead of that 
 finding them thus strengthened by such terrible evi- 
 dence, she shuddered with a faint scream and sank 
 to the earth. 
 
 "Look what you've done!" said Rory, stooping 
 to raise the fainting girl, which he did, and supported 
 her in his arms, as he turned to the ill-omened in- 
 truder, and said reproachfully, " What did I ever do 
 to deserve this r " 
 
 " Do ! " said she, and her eyes glared on him with 
 the expression of a fiend u Do ! what a woman 
 never forgets nor forgives and I '11 have my revenge 
 o' you, you cowld-blooded thief, I will ! That 's 
 your innocent girl, I suppose ! Mighty innocent 
 indeed, to meet a man inside a rath, by the pleasant 
 light o' the moon ! How innocent she is ! " 
 
 " May the tongue o' ye be blistered in fire," said 
 Rory with fury, " that would say the foul word of 
 
Rory O'More 239 
 
 her! Away wid you, you divil ! the ground's not 
 wholesome you thread on. Away wid you ! " 
 
 She shrunk before the withering words and the 
 indignant tone of the lover, and retired to the top of 
 the embankment ; but ere she descended, she stretched 
 forth her arm in the attitude of menace to Rory, and 
 said with a voice in which there was more of hell 
 than earth, 
 
 " Make the most o* your innocent girl to-night, 
 Misther O'More, for it 's the last you '11 ever see of 
 her ! You think to have her, you do, but she '11 
 never be yours : for if I pay my sowl for the purchase- 
 money, I '11 have my revenge o' you ! ha ! ha ! 
 remember my words never ! never ! ha ! ha ! ha ! " 
 and with something between the laugh of a maniac 
 and the howl of a hyena, she rushed down the hill, 
 leaving Rory horrified at such a fearful exhibition of 
 depravity. 
 
 When Rory proposed to Kathleen, on their meet- 
 ing, that they should stand within the shadow of the 
 bridge, it may be remembered that she refused to do 
 so ; for her mother, who had accompanied her, de- 
 cided on remaining out of sight in that very spot, 
 while Kathleen should enter the rath for her confer- 
 ence with Rory. 
 
 She had seen her daughter and our hero ascend to 
 the top of the mound, and in a very short time after 
 was surprised to observe a third person take the same 
 course. This excited her curiosity, and she watched 
 anxiously ; and it was not long until she saw the 
 figure descending the mound rapidly, and running to- 
 wards the very point where she stood. The mother 
 immediately crouched under some bushes to escape 
 observation, and the sound of hurried steps having 
 approached close to her place of ambush, suddenly 
 stopped, and she heard, in a somewhat low, but per- 
 
240 Rory O'More 
 
 fectly clear tone, the name of " Shan " pronounced, 
 and soon after it was repeated. " Shan Dhu," said 
 this unexpected intruder. 
 
 " Here I am," was answered to the summons. 
 
 The name " Shan Dhu " being that of her own 
 son, Kathleen's mother had her attention still more 
 aroused ; and the voice in which the response was 
 made induced her to believe that it was Regan who 
 answered. Peering forth from the bushes as well as 
 she might, she saw the 'figure of a man emerge from 
 under one of the dry arches of the bridge, and then 
 there was no longer a doubt on the subject ; it was 
 Shan Regan who came forth to meet the woman who 
 had just run down the hill. 
 
 " Well ? " said Regan. 
 
 " I Ve done it ! " said the woman. 
 
 " What did he say ? " 
 
 " Oh, they were both knocked all of a heap." 
 
 " But, did you make her sinsible that the sneaking 
 thief was a black-hearted desaiver?" 
 
 " Throth I did. Did n't you hear her screech ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Thin in throth she did. I towld her that he had 
 promised me before her, and she dhropt down in a 
 fit." 
 
 " That '11 do," said Regan. " And now we may 
 as well be joggin' since the business is done; we 
 must n't be seen near the place." And he with his 
 hardened accomplice hastened from the spot. 
 
 Kathleen's mother remained for some time in her 
 place of concealment, that Regan and his abandoned 
 companion might not be aware of her presence. 
 During the few minutes she felt it necessary to re- 
 main in concealment, her mind became fully impressed 
 with the conviction that some deception had been 
 practised upon Kathleen, and manifestly through the 
 
Rory O'More 241 
 
 instrumentality of her brother. When the mother 
 thought she might emerge from her ambuscade in 
 safety, she hastened up the side of the rath; as her 
 fears for her daughter had been excited when she 
 heard that " she had dropt down in a fit." 
 
 On reaching the interior of the fort, she heard 
 Rory expostulating with Kathleen on the improbabil- 
 ity of the accusation made against him; for, before 
 the mother had arrived, Rory had contrived, by brush- 
 ing the dew from the grass with his hand, and sprin- 
 kling the moisture over Kathleen's face, to recover her 
 
 D ' 
 
 from the state of insensibility into which the sudden 
 appearance and fearful accusation of Rory's enemy 
 had thrown her. 
 
 " Oh, why did you bring me here at all ? " said 
 Kathleen, in a tone of agony. 
 
 "To clear myself to you, Kathleen," said Rory. 
 
 " Clear yourself ! Oh, Rory! that dreadful woman!" 
 
 " By all that 's sacred, Kathleen, I know no more 
 about her than the child unborn." 
 
 " Oh, can I b'lieve it, afther all I 've heard and 
 seen Rory ? Can I b'lieve it ? " 
 
 " Kathleen, as I hope to see heaven I 'm innocent 
 of what she accuses me." 
 
 " Oh, I wish I could b'lieve it ! " said Kathleen 
 sobbing. 
 
 "Thin you may b'lieve it, my darlin'," said her 
 mother, who now joined them. 
 
 This fresh surprise made Kathleen scream again ; 
 but, recognising her mother, she sprang into her 
 arms. 
 
 " Oh, mother dear ! mother dear! but I 'm glad to 
 see you," said the excited girl, who had not caught 
 the meaning of the words her mother uttered. " Oh, 
 mother! mother! you are thrue to me, at all events; 
 you '11 never desaive me." 
 VOL. i. 1 6 
 
242 Rory O'More 
 
 " Nor I either, Kathleen," said Rory ; " and sure, 
 here 's your mother to bear witness for me. Don't 
 you hear what she says ? " 
 
 " What ? what ? " said Kathleen, bewildered. 
 
 " Compose yourself, dear ! " said the mother. 
 " Don't b'lieve the bad things you 've heard of Rory : 
 they 're not thrue I 'm sure they 're not thrue." 
 
 " Bad luck to the word ! " said Rory, plucking up 
 his courage. 
 
 "But that woman "said Kathleen, "where is 
 she ? " and she looked round in alarm. 
 
 "She's gone, dear," said the mother soothingly; 
 and Rory, in less gentle accents, made no scruple of 
 saying " Where ? ' : 
 
 " Rory," said Kathleen's mother, with a serious 
 tenderness in her manner, " I b'lieve that you love 
 my child, and that you mane to be thrue to her." 
 
 " May I never see glory if I don't ! " said Rory 
 fervently. 
 
 The mother took their hands, and joining them, 
 said, " Then I give her to you, Rory, with all the 
 the veins o' my heart; and may my blessing be on 
 you ! " 
 
 Rory took the yielding girl tenderly in his arms 
 and kissed her unresistingly, alternately blessing her 
 and her mother for making him " the happiest fellow 
 in Ireland," as he said himself. 
 
 How all this sudden revolution of affairs in his 
 favour had occurred, Rory gave himself no trouble to 
 inquire, he was content with the knowledge of the 
 fact ; and after escorting Kathleen and her mother 
 within sight of their house, he turned his steps home- 
 ward, and re-entered his cottage a happier man than 
 he had left it. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 IN WHICH RORY o'MORE PROVES HIMSELF TO BE A 
 MAN OF LETTERS 
 
 THE next morning Rory arose in high spirits, 
 and determined on amusing himself with a 
 piece of sarcastic waggery, that he intended executing 
 upon Sweeny, the reformed Papist attorney, whose 
 apostacy was a source of great indignation to Rory. 
 
 It so happened that the tombstone of old Sweeny, 
 the apothecary, bearing the Popish phrase, " Pray for 
 the soul of Denis Sweeny," stood most provokingly 
 close to the pathway leading to the church-door; so 
 that every Sunday, when his son the attorney was 
 going to attend divine service as by law established, his 
 Church-of-Englandism was much scandalised by hav- 
 ing this damning (and damnable) proof of his apostacy 
 staring him in the face. Not that he cared for it 
 himself: he was one of those callous-hearted people 
 who could " have botanised on his mother's grave." 
 
 o 
 
 therefore this proof of his former creed on the grave 
 of his father could have given him no trouble ; but 
 he did not like the evidence to remain there in the 
 sight of other people, and he had asked Rory O'More 
 how the nuisance could be abated. 
 
 Our hero was indignant with the petty-minded 
 pettifogger, and wished to retaliate upon him for the 
 renunciation of his old creed ; for the Roman Catho- 
 lics have the same bitter feeling against the man who 
 secedes from their profession of faith, as those of the 
 
244 Rory O'More 
 
 Church of England entertain against the dissenters 
 from them. 
 
 So Rory, after hearing the attorney's complaint, 
 said he thought he could rectify the objectionable 
 passage on the tombstone. How he accomplished 
 this will be seen. 
 
 After breakfast he asked De Lacy would he go 
 over to see " the churches," as the old burial-place in 
 the neighbourhood was called, where the ruins of 
 some monastic buildings stood, one of which had 
 been repaired and roofed in for the parish church. 
 De Lacy assented to the proposal, and Rory sug- 
 gested that they should endeavour to get Phelim 
 O'Flanagan to accompany them. 
 
 u His school lies in our way," said Rory, " and we 
 may as well ax him to come ; for there is a power of 
 owld anshint tombstones in it, in owld Irish, and he 
 can explain them to you, sir." 
 
 True it was, that here many an ancient gravestone 
 stood, mingled with those of later days ; the former 
 bearing the old Irish 
 
 op bo. 
 
 the latter, the 
 
 PRAY FOR 
 
 showing, that though conquest had driven the aborig- 
 inal Irish from the spot, the religion, though not the 
 language of the people, had survived their down- 
 fall. 
 
 And here what a striking evidence is given of the 
 inutility of penal laws ! nay, worse than inutility ; 
 for prohibition seems to act on human nature rather 
 as a productive than a preventive cause of the thing 
 forbidden, and the religion of the Irish, like their 
 native shamrock, by being trampled on, becomes pro- 
 lific. 
 
Rory O'More 245 
 
 Their language is passing away, though it was not 
 penal to speak it ; but their religion has lasted because 
 penalty attended its profession, and the faith of a 
 persecuted people is still recorded in the language of 
 the oppressor. 
 
 Thanks to God ! the days of persecution are past ; 
 and fair fame to England in cancelling from her 
 statutes the unjust aud unholy penalties that man, in 
 his bigoted profanity, had dared to interpose between 
 the worship of the creature to the Creator ! 
 
 And Fortune never dispensed a brighter honour on 
 her favourite than in shedding over the name of 
 WELLINGTON the glory of being the agent of this 
 blessing to his native land. This mingling of the 
 olive with his laurels increases their brightness as it 
 will their endurance : for when many a victory he 
 has won shall cease to be remembered, the emancipa- 
 tion of his country from the bondage of bigotry will 
 never be forgotten ; and soothing be the thought in 
 the hero's last hour, that though many of his achieve- 
 ments have evoked the curses of a foreign land, this 
 greatest triumph of his life will be remembered with 
 blessings by his countrymen ! 
 
 When Phelim was asked to bear De Lacy and our 
 hero company, he was immersed in the mysteries of 
 his school, and could not immediately accompany 
 them ; but he promised to follow soon, and for that 
 purpose gave his scholars half a holiday, for which 
 beneficence on his part they threw up their hats, 
 that is, such of them as had any ; while those of them 
 who had not, made up the deficiency by extra shout- 
 ing; and Phelim, his school being dismissed, followed 
 De Lacy and Rory to u the churches." 
 
 This burial-ground was not more than a quarter of 
 a mile from the village ; yet, though in the neigh- 
 bourhood of man's habitation it was particularly 
 
246 Rory 0" More 
 
 lonely; for, except on Sunday, when the small Pro- 
 testant congregation went to divine service, or that 
 the occasion of a funeral called the peasantry to the 
 spot, it was little frequented. 
 
 Indeed, a churchyard is generally avoided ; nor can 
 it be wondered at that the resting-place of the dead 
 should have an appalling influence on the ignorant 
 and superstitious, when even to the most enlightened 
 there is a chastened and solemn tone of feeling pro- 
 duced on entering a place of sepulture. 
 
 Much of this feeling is lessened, or at least the in- 
 dulgence of it is in a more elevated tone, when we 
 walk through the range of magnificent monuments 
 lining the vaulted aisle of some noble abbey. Here 
 the vanity of our nature is indirectly flattered by wit- 
 nessing the tribute that posterity pays to greatness, 
 and Glory more than half divides the triumph with 
 Death. But in the lonely country churchyard, where 
 some plain headstone or nameless mound of earth is 
 all that is left to tell that there rests a being once in- 
 stinct with life as ourselves, and where, instead of 
 vaulted roof and clustered columns, the ruins of some 
 lowly chapel stand, they, like all around, telling of 
 decay, there it is that the contemplation of mortal- 
 ity exercises its most depressing influence, and the 
 thought of death strikes coldly on the heart. 
 
 De Lacy accompanied Rory to the burial-place, 
 which stood on a small mound, the gravestones rising 
 in bare relief against the sky, which here and there 
 peeped through the shattered mullions of some win- 
 dow in the ruined wall of one of the little churches, 
 giving an air of peculiar desolation to the place, 
 which was increased, perhaps, by the slated roof of 
 one of them, which was repaired and employed as the 
 Protestant parish church. A pathway led to this 
 building, and Rory came to a stand where, on one 
 
Rory O'More 247 
 
 side of the path, stood a rather conspicuous tomb- 
 stone with this inscription : 
 
 Pray for the soul of 
 
 DENIS SWEENY, 
 who departed, &c. 
 
 " Do you see that ? " said Rory to De Lacy. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, that 's what brings me here to-day." 
 
 " How ? " said De Lacy. 
 
 " Why, that 's owld Denny Sweeny's tombstone ; 
 and you see the poor owld fellow axes every one to 
 pray for his sowl and why not ? and indeed I 
 hope he 's in glory. Well, you see by that he was a 
 good Catholic, and a dacent man he was ; and when 
 he died, he ordhered the same tombstone to be put 
 over him, and paid my own father for cuttin' the 
 same." 
 
 " Is it after he died ? " said De Lacy. 
 
 u Oh, no you know what I mane ; but sure a 
 slip o' the tongue does n't matther. Well, as I was 
 sayin', my father cut the same tombstone and a 
 nate bit o' work it is ; see the iligant crass an it, and 
 cut so deep that the divil would n't get it out of it, 
 God forgi' me for sayin' divil to the crass ! " . 
 
 " It 's deep enough, indeed," said De Lacy. 
 
 " Ay, and so I towld that dirty brat, Sweeny 
 the 'turney, I mane when he axed me about it. 
 What do you think he wants me to do ? " said Rory. 
 
 " To take it back for half-price, perhaps," said 
 De Lacy. 
 
 " 'Faith, he has n't that much fun in him to think 
 of sitch a thing." 
 
 " What was it, then ? " 
 
 " Why, he wants me to alther it," said Rory. 
 
 " For himself, I hope ? " said De Lacy. 
 
248 Rory O'More 
 
 " No," said Rory ; " though in throth I 'd do that 
 with pleasure, for he 'd be no loss to king or counthry. 
 But, as I was tellin' you, he comes to me the other 
 day, and towld me it was disgraceful to see sitch a 
 thing as c pray for the sowl ' on his father's tombstone 
 in sitch enlightened times as these, when people knew 
 betther than to pray for people's sowls. 
 
 uc They might do worse,' says I. 
 
 " l It might do for the dark ages,' says he, c but it 
 won't do now ; ' laying it all on the dark ages, by the 
 way, jist as if people did n't know that it was bekaze 
 when he goes to church ever}' Sunday his poor honest 
 father's tombstone stares him in the face, the same as 
 if the voice out of the grave called to him and said, 
 c Oh, thin, Dinny, my boy, is it goin' to church you 
 are ? ' Not that he 'd mind that, for the cow Id- 
 hearted thief has n't the feelin' to think of it ; but 
 it 's the dirty pride of the little animal ; he does n't 
 like the rale Prodestants to see the thing stan'in' in 
 evidence agin him. So I thought I 'd divart myself 
 a bit with him, and says I, c sure the tombstone 
 does n't do you nor any body else any harm.' ' Yes, 
 it does,' says he ; 4 it stands in evidence agin my 
 father's common sinse, and I 'm ashamed of it.' 
 
 " Oh ! " said Rory feelingly, " what luck can the 
 man have that says he 's ashamed of his father's 
 grave ! " The feeling and touching appeal reached 
 De Lacy's heart. Rory continued "Ashamed, 
 indeed ! Throth, an' well he may say he 's 
 ashamed ! not for his father, though no but 
 well may he be ashamed to change his creed ! " 
 
 " You should n't blame any man for his religious 
 belief, Rory," said De Lacy. 
 
 "No more I would, sir, if it was his belief that he 
 was reared in ; but " 
 
 " Oh ! " said De Lacy, interrupting him, " if a 
 
Rory O'More 249 
 
 man feels that he has been instructed in a belief which 
 his conscience will not permit him to follow " 
 
 " Sure, sir," said Rory, interrupting in his turn, 
 u I would n't blame him for that neither : but is it 
 Sweeny you think does it for that ? not he, in throth, 
 it 's jist for the lucre, and nothin' else. And sure, 
 if he had the feeling in him to love his father, sure it 's 
 not altherin' his tombstone he 'd be, that was made 
 by his father's own directions : and suppose he thinks 
 that he ought to be a Prodestant ever so much, sure 
 is n't it bad of him to intherfare with his poor father's 
 dyin' request that they would pray for his sowl ? " 
 
 " That I grant you," said De Lacy. 
 
 "Well, he comes to me to ask me to alther it. 
 4 For what ? ' says I. c Bekaze I 'm ashamed of it,' 
 says he. c Why ? ' says I. ' Bekaze it 's only 
 Popery,' says he. l Well,' says I, c if it 's Popery 
 ever so much, sure it's your father's doin', and any 
 shame there is in it, it is to him, and not to you, and 
 so you need n't care about it ; and if your father did 
 wish people to pray for his sowl, I think it very bad o' 
 you to wish to prevent.' c It can do him no good,' 
 says he. ' It can do him no harm, anyhow,' says I. 
 
 " So he could n't get over that very well, and made 
 no answer about the good or the harm of it, and said 
 he did n't want to argue the point with me, but that 
 he wanted it althered ; and as my father done the 
 job, he thought I was the person to alther it. ' And 
 how do you want it changed ? ' says I. l Take out 
 " Pray for the sowl : "' says he, ' that's nothing but 
 Popery.' c My father always cut the sowl very deep,' 
 says I, 4 and to take it out is impossible ; but if it 's 
 only the Popery you object to, I can alther it if you 
 like, so that you can have nothing to say agin it.' 
 1 How ? ' says he. l Oh, let me alone,' says I. 
 1 You 're no sculpture ,' says I, l and don't know how 
 
250 Rory 0" More 
 
 I '11 do it ; but you '11 see yourself when it 's done.' 
 * You won't charge me much ? ' says he. c I '11 
 charge you nothing,' says I ; c I 'm not a mason by 
 thrade, and I '11 do the job for love.' l But how do 
 you mane to do it?' says he agin. 'Oh, never 
 mind,' says I ; 4 go your ways, I '11 do the job com- 
 plate, and next Sunday, when you go to church, 
 you '11 see the divil a bit o' Poperv will be in the 
 same tombstone.' ' That 's all I want,' says he. 
 l Thin we '11 be both plazed,' says I. And now 
 I 'm come here to-day to do the very thing." 
 
 " And how do you mean to effect the alteration, 
 Rory ? " said De Lacy. 
 
 " As aisy as kiss hand," said Rory. " Jist do you 
 amuse yourself with looking into the churches; there 's 
 some quare carvings round the windows and doors, 
 and a mighty curious owld stone crass up there be- 
 yant. Or, if you like, sir, sit down beside me here 
 with your book, and you can read while I work." 
 
 De Lacy had not been long engaged in reading, when 
 old Phelim made his appearance; and with so amusing 
 a cicerone, De Lacy passed a couple of hours pleasantly 
 enough in looking over the antiquities of the place. 
 
 After the lapse of that period, Rory had com- 
 pleted his task, and sought his friends to show them 
 how thoroughly he had neutralised the Popery that 
 had so much distressed Sweeny. 
 
 "How could you have done it so soon . " said De 
 Lacy. 
 
 " Oh, I won't tell you you must see it yourself," 
 said Rory. " It is the simplest thing in life four 
 letthers did it all." Rory now conducted De Lacy 
 and Phelim to the tombstone, and the moment they 
 stood before it they both indulged in hearty laughter. 
 Rory had carved over the objectionable request the 
 phrase " DON'T," so that the inscription ran thus : 
 
Rory 'More 251 
 
 DON'T 
 
 Pray for the soul of 
 DENIS SWEENY. 
 
 " Is n't that the thing ? " said Rory. 
 
 " Capital ! " said De Lacy. 
 
 " Is n't that sarving the little viper right ! You 
 see he dar n't say at wanst, out, honest, that he was 
 ashamed for his own sake, bekaze he was a turncoat ; 
 but he lays the blame on the Popery. Oh, in throth, 
 there 's many a dirty turn and many a cruel thing 
 done on us ; and thim that does the thing is ashamed 
 to own to the right cause, and so they lay the blame on 
 the Popery. By my sowl ! they ought to be obleeged 
 to Popery for giving them sitch a convanient excuse 
 for not havin' things called by their right names." 
 
 " But won't Sweeny be very angry about it ? " 
 
 " 'Faith, to be sure he will," said Phelim, shaking 
 his head. " Rory, ma bouchal, though I can't deny 
 your wit, I cannot complimint you with an epitha- 
 lamium upon your prudence : you have made that 
 little bitther attorney your inimy to the ind o' time." 
 
 " I know that," said Rory ; " but what do I care ? " 
 
 " Rory, my boy, Prudence, Prudentia, as the Latins 
 had it, Prudence, my boy, is one of the cardinial 
 virtues." 
 
 " Well, to expose humbuggin' is as cardinial as ever 
 it was." 
 
 " So you won't listen to me ? Magister docet, sed 
 vos vero negligitis." 
 
 "Well, who 's sayin' it 's prudent ? But all I stand 
 up for is the altheration ; and is n't that complate ? " 
 
 " That there is no denyin'," said Phelim. 
 
 " And all with four letthers ! " 
 
 " You have demonstherated it as complate wid 
 four," said Phelim, "as I do my mattamatics wid 
 three Q. E. D." 
 
252 Rory O'More 
 
 " By dad ! I have a great mind to put Q. E. D. at 
 the end of it all," said Rory. 
 
 " For what ? " said De Lacy. 
 
 " Bekase it is what was to be demonstkerated" said 
 Rory. 
 
 " 'Faith, I 'm glad to see you remember your mat- 
 tamatics still," said Phelim. 
 
 " Would n't it be grate fun ! " said Rory. 
 
 " It 's bad enough as it is," said De Lacy, " with- 
 out making matters worse. I am afraid, Rory, this 
 was very unwise." 
 
 "Yet you can't help laughin' at it," said Rory. 
 
 " Indeed I can't," said De Lacy. 
 
 " Well, and so will the Prodestants laugh at that 
 contimptible little upstart when they see it, and that's 
 all I want. There 's nothing an upstart feels half so 
 much as a laugh against him," said Rory, making a 
 sagacious comment upc.i his own imprudent act. 
 
 "Quite true," said De Lacy, "and therefore the 
 attorney will never forgive you." 
 
 " The beauty of it is," said Rory, still enjoying his 
 joke, " that he can't complain openly about it ; for all 
 he said, was that he was ashamed about the Popery of 
 it. Now, I 've taken the Popery out of it, at all events." 
 
 " Certainly," said De Lacy; " but, at the same time, 
 you have increased Sweeny's cause of inquietude by 
 making the offensive phrase more obnoxious." 
 
 " That 's what I meant to do," said Rory boldly ; 
 " I Ve caught him in his own thrap. The little 
 scheming 'turney complained only about the Popery ; 
 now, with four letthers I 've desthroyed more Popery 
 than the parson could do with twice as many." 
 
 " Upon my word, Rory," said De Lacy, smiling, 
 " many men of letters have failed with the whole 
 alphabet to alter a text so completely as you have 
 done with four" 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 IN WHICH SHAN REGAN AND SOLDERING SOLOMON 
 GIVE A TOUCH OF THEIR QUALITY, AND RORY 
 UNDERGOES A TRIAL OF TEMPER 
 
 A LTHOUGH Regan's mother had discovered 
 <L\. his perfidy towards his sister and Rory, and 
 relieved them from the consequences that might have 
 ensued from it, she did not reveal to Rory the treachery 
 of which her son had been guilty, for still he was 
 her son, and with a mother's tenderness she sought 
 to screen him, in the eyes of our hero, from the con- 
 tempt which so base a means of indulging his dislike 
 must have produced. 
 
 But she saw how deep the hatred to Rory must be 
 on Regan's part, to urge him to such practices as he 
 had exercised against him, and until matters were 
 riper for a disclosure, in fact, until Kathleen and 
 he should be just going to be married, she begged 
 of Rory to say nothing about what had passed ; for if 
 it came to Shan's knowledge, he would be " showing 
 his temper " at home, and it was as well not to vex 
 him until the time came when the definite step could 
 be taken which would render his anger of no avail ; 
 for though she would not betray to Rory the baseness 
 of her son, she had no hesitation in owning that he 
 was not his friend. 
 
 It was with this understanding that Rory and 
 Kathleen parted the night of their meeting at the 
 rath. But though Mrs. Regan kept the means of 
 
254 Rory O'More 
 
 her knowledge a secret from Rory, she revealed to 
 her daughter how she became possessed of the knowl- 
 edge that exposed the treacherous influence employed 
 to ruin the hopes of two innocent people, not only 
 to satisfy Kathleen's inquiries of how her mother 
 could vouch for Rory's conduct, but in order to put 
 Kathleen on her guard against betraying to her 
 brother any symptom of his plot having failed. 
 
 " For what would we do if he thought we found 
 him out ! " 
 
 Miserable mother ! whose only hope of domestic 
 quiet lay in seeming to be ignorant of the ruffianism 
 of her child. 
 
 With all her caution, however, though Kathleen 
 did not betray any symptoms of happiness in her 
 brother's presence, and subdued her looks and manner 
 as much as possible, still Regan was not quite satis- 
 fied with the apparent state of things at home : not 
 that he suspected his plot had been discovered, but 
 he feared that it had not been sufficiently effective, 
 or that Kathleen would exhibit more distress. He, 
 therefore, went further in endeavouring to depreciate 
 Rory O'More in every thing he could say and do, 
 not only at home, but abroad. 
 
 There are some natures so essentially vile that 
 they can never forgive another's success. Such was 
 Regan's. But to this habitual baseness of mind, was 
 added the stimulus of dislike in Rory's affair ; and 
 that his sister's attachment to him seemed still to 
 survive the threats and falsehoods and machinations 
 urged against it, increased that dislike. But it was 
 Rory's triumph over him at the fair that completed 
 the sum of his hatred. This, Regan looked upon as 
 a personal disgrace, and the remembrance of it sank 
 deep in his heart ; and deeper and deeper it sank 
 every day, and the depth of the remembrance called 
 
Rory O'More 255 
 
 for a greater measure of revenge. Until this could 
 be satisfied, he in the mean time got up a piece of 
 slander against Rory, by falsifying all the circum- 
 stances of the visit to the fair. 
 
 This he did with the most thorough malevolence 
 and injurious perversion of all the facts. He spoke 
 amongst his fellows, openly in the public-houses, 
 where most of his time was spent, in a spirit of jeer- 
 ing slightingness of Mary O'More being " gallivanted 
 round the fair by that omadhaun Conolly, and 
 thrated Misther Rory, too, I hear. Well, people 's 
 changed ! I thought, wanst, that Rory h^d more 
 sperit than to be takin' thrates from another man, 
 on account of his sisther's purty face." 
 
 Now, though he got hearers who were base 
 enough to listen to this, he did not find one to 
 believe him, for they were well aware of the secret 
 and real cause of his spleen. But this disparagement 
 did not satisfy him : there was another and a viler 
 misrepresentation of which he was guilty. The busi- 
 ness of the ducks, which, if truly told, he knew 
 would only raise a laugh against him, he twisted with 
 the true serpent spirit that actuated him, into a crime, 
 and, with the expression of regret which is so often 
 the outward sign of the secret rejoicing of the bad 
 man's heart, he declared he was sorry that Rory " let 
 himself down so much, for he thought he was above 
 stalin* a poor pitiful pair o' ducks : throth, it was n't 
 worth while bein' a thief for such a tbrifle." 
 
 All this in the course of a few days travelled to 
 the next parish, where Rory lived; for even in 
 sylvan scenes the dryads have it not all to them- 
 selves, there be evil geniuses in the country as 
 well as the town, and " d d good-natured friends " 
 are to be found everywhere ; and some of these same 
 good-natured folk told Rory what was said of him. 
 
256 Rory O'More 
 
 The first bearer of the disagreeable intelligence 
 was Old Solomon the tinker, who delighted in hav- 
 ing it in his power to say bitter things of every body, 
 or even to them, when he could do it by innuendo, 
 a favourite weapon of his, and one which he used 
 like a master. 
 
 It happened, during the day Rory and De Lacy 
 went to " the churches," that Old Solomon paid the 
 Widow O'More a visit. In doing this he had two 
 objects : in the first place, he enacted guide to De 
 Welskein, who wanted to see De Lacy ; and in the 
 next, he was sure of " entertainment," as the sign- 
 boards have it, for himself and his ass. 
 
 He was kindly received at the cottage of the 
 widow, and had some fresh buttermilk and good 
 potatoes given him, with a seat in the chimney 
 corner into the bargain, where he roasted his shins, 
 and smoked his pipe, and said sour things of half 
 the country, and, in short, made himself perfectly 
 happy. But after spending a couple of hours thus, 
 he began to exhibit symptoms of impatience at Rory's 
 absence ; for he wanted to proceed further, and yet 
 did not like to go without giving to Rory the plea- 
 sant intimation that he was gaining the reputation 
 of being a very ingenious purloiner of other people's 
 property : waiting to wound the man, the hospita- 
 ble shelter of whose roof he had enjoyed, not only 
 then, but at all times. And this, he must have been 
 conscious, arose from pure good-heartedness : for his 
 habitual influence through the motive of fear did not 
 exist there as in other places, Rory being too sharp 
 a fellow to let Solomon exercise such a power over 
 him ; and it was partly this fact that made the old 
 scoundrel the more anxious to gall, at least, where he 
 could not govern. 
 
 De Welskein waited patiently enough the return 
 
Rory O'More 257 
 
 of De Lacy, as he consoled himself with making 
 compliments to Mary O'More, and doing the agree- 
 able, as Frenchmen generally do : but Solomon 
 from time to time went from the fireplace to the 
 door to look out for Rory, whom, at last, he saw 
 approaching. 
 
 When Rory entered the cottage, he welcomed De 
 Welskein, who seemed rather constrained in his 
 manner towards him, and asked for De Lacy ; Rory 
 informed him he would soon return, that he left 
 him and Phelim behind in the churchyard, looking 
 over some old tombstones, but that they would not 
 be long absent. 
 
 " And how are you, Sol. ? " said P.ory. 
 
 " Oh, as well as any one wishes me," replied 
 Solomon bitterly. 
 
 " What are you in sitch a hurry for ? " asked 
 Rory ; " sure you are not goin' yet ? " This was 
 said in pure hospitality, for Rory did not like the 
 old cynic. 
 
 " Yis, yis, you 've had enough of me." 
 
 "Well," said Rory, " plaze yourself and you'll 
 live the longer." 
 
 " Throth, thin, the more one lives, the more one 
 wondhers," said Solomon. " Rory avic" added he, 
 " will you go and get me the ass ? " 
 
 "To be sure," said Rory, who went to the out- 
 house, where the ass had been enjoying a good feed, 
 as well as his master. Reloading him with his pan- 
 niers, containing Solomon's 
 
 ** Nippers, twisters, sand, and resin," 
 
 as well as the three ancient pots and pans, Rory led 
 the animal forth to where Solomon stood awaiting 
 his approach, before the door of the cottage ; and 
 when Rory halted the beast before him, the old 
 VOL. i. 17 
 
258 Rory O'More 
 
 tinker began very carefully to examine every par- 
 ticular of his ass's furniture and appendages, not 
 forgetting the three old rusty kettles that dangled 
 from the straddle. 
 
 Rory inquired if any thing was wrong? "Oh, 
 it 's no harm to see if all 's right," said Solomon. 
 
 41 Why, would n't it be right ? " said Rory. 
 u Haven't I put on this sthraddle and panniers, and 
 kittles, often enough before ? " 
 
 " Oh yis, but 1 was only seein' one, two, 
 three, I was only seein' if all was safe ; one can't 
 be too sure these times ; one, two, three : " and he 
 very carefully repeated his scrutiny of the three old 
 kettles as he leisurely pronounced " one, two, three." 
 
 Rory's attention was aroused by this repetition of 
 the words which were the signal to the smuggler ; 
 and fancying for a moment that Solomon might have 
 discovered his agency in the affair, he became very 
 uneasy, and said, 
 
 " What do you mane by reckoning over one, two, 
 three, so often ? " 
 
 " Oh, these is quare times," said Solomon. 
 
 This increased Rory's uneasiness. " How do you 
 mane ? " said he. 
 
 " And a quare world, so it is, one, two, three." 
 
 " What the dickins are you at with your l one, 
 two, three ? ' " said Rory, whose anxiety increased. 
 
 " Only jist seein' that my property 's safe," said 
 Solomon, giving a look at Rory, which our hero 
 could not understand, for, his mind still reverting to 
 the signals, could not reach the meaning which Solo- 
 mon wished to convey, and he was yet unsatisfied 
 what Solomon's reckoning the kettles meant. How- 
 ever, as the tinker went through that process again, 
 and still repeated " one, two, three," Rory said 
 impatiently, 
 
Rory 0' More 259 
 
 " Tare an' ouns ! is it thim owld kittles you 're 
 reckonin' agin ? " 
 
 " Jist countin' thim, is there any harm in 
 that ? " said the tinker : " it 's betther be sure than 
 sorry." 
 
 " Countin' thim ! " said Rory, looking at him with 
 all his eyes. " Why, sure you never had more nor 
 three owld rusty kittles in your life ; and they 're so 
 well known over the counthry, that no one would 
 think to make their own of thim, supposin' they wor 
 worth stalin'." 
 
 " Oh, some people has quare tastes for what be- 
 longs to other people," said Solomon significantly, 
 " one, two, three, and a kittle might tickle some 
 people's fancy." 
 
 " The divil tickle you and your fancy ! " said 
 Rory, waxing angry. " Why, barrin' one wanted to 
 hunt a mad dog with it, bad luck to the use any one 
 would have with your owld kittles ! " 
 
 " Maybe so," said Solomon with great composure ; 
 " but you see," he added, " some people is so handy 
 at staling a pair o' ducks, that no one knows but my 
 poor kittles might go asthray : " and he cast a pro- 
 voking glance at Rory. As quick as lightning, the 
 truth flashed upon O'More's mind, that the frolic at 
 the fair had been misrepresented ; and though glad to 
 find his fears regarding the discovery of the signals 
 were unfounded, yet with flushed cheek and dilated 
 eye, he said in a tone in which wounded pride more 
 than anger was predominant, " What do you mane ? " 
 
 " Oh, laste said is soonest mended," said the 
 tinker ; " one, two, three ; I see they 're all 
 safe. Good evenin' to you, Rory." 
 
 " Stop ! " said Rory, confronting him ; " explain to 
 me your dark meaning, and don't lave an affront at 
 the door you were always welkim at ? " 
 
26o Rory O'More 
 
 tt How have I affronted you ? " said Solomon, 
 whose frigid coolness of age was in startling relief to 
 the excited fervour of the young man who stood be- 
 fore him. 
 
 " You made a dark hint jist now," said Rory. 
 
 " Make light of it, Rory, ma bouchal" said the 
 tinker, taking the halter of his ass in token of de- 
 parture. 
 
 " You shan't go that way," said Rory, begin- 
 ning to lose his temper ; and he laid his hand on 
 the old man's shoulder in the action of detention, 
 but at the same time with a proper degree of deference 
 to his age. 
 
 " And is it stoppin' a man on the road you are 
 now ? " said the tinker with a low, spiteful chuckle : 
 " throth, you 're improvin' fast!" and he attempted 
 to pass Rory, who now, losing all control of himself, 
 said, 
 
 " Bad luck to you, you cruked, spiteful, sawdhering 
 owld thief! how dar you say the like to an honest 
 man's son ! Stop on the road, indeed ! stale 
 ducks ! Is it Regan that has the black heart to say 
 I stole his ducks ? " 
 
 " Oh, you know it, thin ! " said old Solomon, be- 
 coming provoked in turn. 
 
 " Know it ! " said Rory, seeing his drift ; " it 's 
 well for you you 're past bating, you owld cracked 
 bottle o' vinegar that you are ! or I 'd thrash you 
 within an inch o' your life. Away wid you, you owld 
 sarpent ! " and he flung him from him. 
 
 The old tinker staggered back, and made a great 
 clatter as he reeled against his old kettles ; but, re- 
 covering himself, he led away his ass, saying to Rory 
 however before he went, " I hear they wor uncom- 
 mon fine ducks ! " 
 
 Rory was startled by this kst expression, the 
 
Rory 0* More 261 
 
 second part of the signal given to De Welskein. 
 Was it chance ? or did the old tinker mix up the 
 slander of Regan, and imply his knowledge of Rory's 
 mission, in the same breath, to puzzle him ? While 
 he was standing in this state of perplexity and vexa- 
 tion, De Lacy came up to him unperceived, for 
 Rory was looking after the tinker, whose last words 
 De Lacy had heard, and was attracted by, and ac- 
 costing Rory, who was taken by surprise, said, 
 
 " Does that old rascal know any thing about our 
 affairs ? " 
 
 " 'Faith, I dunna if he does," said Rory, with an 
 air of abstraction that struck De Lacy as peculiar. 
 
 " Is it not strange, that he should use the words of 
 our private signal ? " 
 
 " Faix, an' it is, and it bothered myself at first," 
 said Rory, " when he said it ; but I think, afther 
 all, he knows nothing about it, and that he only 
 spoke it by chance, and meant something else 
 intirely." 
 
 " What else could he allude to ? " said De Lacy. 
 
 " I '11 tell you about it, sir, another time," answered 
 Rory ; " for it 's a long story, and you 'd betther not 
 wait for it now, as Mr. Devilskin is in the house 
 waitin' for you." 
 
 " De Welskein ! " said De Lacy, who entered the 
 cottage as he uttered the name. 
 
 " Eon jour, citoyen capitaine" was the address of the 
 smuggler to De Lacy, who welcomed him in return ; 
 the smuggler continuing to address him in P'rench, 
 desired a private interview ; De Lacy pointed to his 
 bedroom, and the Frenchman entered the apartment. 
 De Lacy followed, and as soon as they were within 
 the room, De Welskein pointed to the lock. 
 
 11 There is no necessity," said De Lacy. 
 
 41 Don't be too sure of that," said De Welskein, 
 
262 Rory O'More 
 
 with a very significant shake of the head, and one of 
 the keen and cunning glances of his dark eye. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said De Lacy. The 
 Frenchman laid his finger on his lip, to impress the 
 necessity of silence ; and though still speaking his own 
 language, which was sufficient guarantee for secrecy 
 in an Irish cabin, yet the importance of what he had 
 to communicate was so great, that he placed his 
 mouth close to De Lacy's ear, and said, in the most 
 cautious tone, " There is a traitor ! " 
 
 " A traitor ! " echoed De Lacy. 
 
 The Frenchman nodded assent, and added, " We 
 are betrayed." 
 
 De Lacy thought of the words he heard Solomon 
 utter, and said quickly, " That rascally old tinker ? " 
 
 " Vieux cbaudronnler de campagne ? No, no." 
 
 " Who then ? " asked De Lacy. 
 
 De Welskein subdued his voice to the lowest 
 whisper and said, " Rory O'More ! " 
 
RORY O'MORE 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 A TRIAL OF TEMPER, AND A TRIAL BY BATTLE 
 
 WHEN De Lacy entered the house, he left Rory 
 standing without, looking after the spiteful 
 old tinker, with his teeth set and his hand clenched ; 
 and could he at the moment have encountered Regan, 
 and had his blow been gifted w.ith death, he would 
 have struck him so fearfully are generous natures 
 excited on the sudden by insult ; for, that the malicious 
 story emanated from Regan, he had no doubt. 
 
 But a few minutes calmed the fierceness of his 
 passion, though he changed not his belief as to the 
 promulgator of the scandal; and when he reflected 
 that it was the brother of the girl he loved, who was 
 the offender, it perplexed him how to act under the 
 circumstances. Should he tamely submit to such an 
 insinuation against his character ? Against this his 
 nature rebelled ; yet to make a wider breach with 
 Regan, was what he could wish to escape, for 
 Kathleen's sake. To balance these considerations 
 quietly in his own mind, he walked down to the 
 river, where, undisturbed, he might take a ruminating 
 ramble. 
 
 In the mean while, De Welskein was closeted with 
 De Lacy, who, when he heard the charge against 
 Rory, connected with the singularity of the words he 
 had overheard the tinker utter, and Rory's seeming 
 confusion at the time, was shaken for a moment by the 
 VOL. ii. 
 
264 Rory O'More 
 
 suddenness and distinctness of the accusation against 
 him ; but as soon as he had time to recover from the 
 surprise, his better judgment acquitted Rory of the 
 guilt with which he was charged. 
 
 He told De Welskein it was impossible ; that he 
 knew Rory well, that he was of a chivalrous nature 
 above the taint of so foul a thing as treachery, and he 
 would stake his life on his fidelity. 
 
 " You Ve done that already," said De Welskein. 
 " And would do it again," replied De Lacy. 
 u You don't know these Irish," said the smuggler. 
 " Better than you do," answered De Lacy warmly. 
 " They are full of finesse," said the other. 
 " They are driven to it by ages of misrule and op- 
 pression," said De Lacy : " it is their only protection 
 against the heartless persecutions they are open to on 
 every side ; and if the strong, by their tyranny, force 
 the weak into the last retreat left open to them, on 
 them be the guilt of the habits they have engendered ! 
 Blind as they are cruel, their rulers, while they have 
 made them crafty, will not see the noble traits that 
 are still left them generosity, courage, devotion to 
 those whom they can respect and trust, and a high 
 sense of honour, which even yet survives all that has 
 been done to crush it in their natures, and resists even 
 the contrary example in their oppressors." 
 
 Thus spoke De Lacy, who could not contain his 
 indignation when such a fellow as De Welskein, 
 whose nature was only sensitive to the faults with 
 which he could sympathise, dared to undervalue a people 
 whose finer traits were above his comprehension. 
 
 " Believe me, they are cunning as foxes," said De 
 Welskein. 
 
 u I know they are," replied De Lacy, " and they 
 have every need of their cunning, as the fox has 
 amongst his hunters. But say no more against 
 
Rory 'More 265 
 
 the Irish you forget that I am an Irishman 
 myself." 
 
 " But monsieur has had the advantage of a French 
 education," said the smuggler, smirking. 
 
 u So much the worse for me," De Lacy was going 
 to say ; but, checking himself when he remembered 
 the nature of the rascal to whom he spoke, he con- 
 tented himself by saying, " Don't flatter yourself I 'm 
 the better of that. In short," added he, " you speak 
 in vain to me if you seek to disparage the Irish as a 
 nation ; but in the particular case of Rory O'More, I 
 would sooner depend on his faith and honour than 
 many a king I could name." 
 
 "A king!" said De Welskein in a tone of con- 
 tempt : " I believe so indeed ! " 
 
 "Or the French Directory either," added De Lacy. 
 
 " Sacr'e ! " exclaimed the smuggler. 
 
 " Say no more, De Welskein : it is as impossible 
 that Rory O'More could be a traitor, as that Hoche 
 could be a coward." De Welskein seized on the 
 name of Hoche and repeating it, said, with his eyes 
 fixed into De Lacy, 
 
 " Apropos of General Hoche : I sent you a letter 
 from him did you get it ? " 
 
 " No," said De Lacy calmly. 
 
 The manifest composure of De Lacy's manner 
 under the circumstances of such a piece of intelli- 
 gence being communicated, puzzled the Frenchman, 
 who, after a moment's pause, however, continued, 
 " You did not get that letter ? " 
 
 De Lacy repeated his negative. 
 
 " Then," said De Welskein, assuming a tri- 
 umphant manner, " I sent you such a letter by that 
 immaculate friend of yours." 
 
 "I know you did," said De Lacy. 
 
 This utterly confounded the Frenchman, who, 
 
266 Rory 0' More 
 
 after a short pause, said, "And why have you not 
 seen it?" 
 
 " Because O'More destroyed it." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " said the Frenchman exultingly : " he 
 tells you so ; are you sure of that ? ' 
 
 " Quite sure," said De Lacy. 
 
 " Do you know that he gave private information 
 to the colonel of the town, to save himself from being 
 flogged ? " 
 
 " I do." De Welskein seemed quite crest-fallen 
 that all his intelligence, which he expected to swamp 
 De Lacy, seemed to run off him as freely as water 
 from a duck's feathers. 
 
 It was now the smuggler's turn to wonder ; and in 
 reply to his numerous questions, De Lacy informed 
 him of all the circumstances necessary to the explana- 
 tion of Rory's closet-scene with the colonel. 
 
 u But," said the Frenchman, with the hope of hav- 
 ing one startling fact to advance of which he fancied 
 De Lacy was ignorant, " do you know that the colonel 
 gave him a pass ? " 
 
 Yes," said De Lacy. 
 
 This last monosyllable " annihilated" the French- 
 man, as he would have said himself; or, as Rory 
 O'More would have exemplified it, " he had n't a 
 word to throw to a dog." 
 
 Now it is necessary to explain how all this sus- 
 picion of Rory's conduct arose; and, to do every body 
 justice, De Welskein was not to blame in the matter. 
 
 Let it be remembered, that when Rory was brought 
 up for examination before the colonel, there was 
 another prisoner present, who was one of the visitors 
 to De Welskein's cellar, and that mutual recognition 
 had taken place between him and our hero, in the 
 guard-house. 
 
 This man was aware also of what occurred at 
 
Rory 0* More 267 
 
 Rory's examination; of the threat of flogging, 
 of the room being cleared when Rory said he had 
 something to communicate to the colonel in private, 
 of the fact of Rory being pronounced free as soon 
 as the room was re-opened and not only free, but 
 favoured with a pass enough to damn his fair fame 
 with all the rebels in Ireland. 
 
 All this had been communicated to De Welskein 
 through the friends of this fellow, Betty's husband, 
 who was a very knowing hand in assisting De Wei- 
 skein's smuggling schemes, and was a United man to 
 boot ; and from certain circumstances coming within 
 the knowledge of Scrubbs, he was detained in prison 
 to be prosecuted for his smuggling offences by the 
 Collector. Now, circumstances, in their outward 
 form, bore strongly against Rory ; and neither the 
 prisoner nor De Welskein could be blamed for look- 
 ing with a suspicious eye upon the unexplained libera- 
 tion of our hero. 
 
 However, De Welskein was made quite easy by 
 the explanation of De Lacy, who charged him parti- 
 cularly to remove from the minds of all those who 
 were impressed with the belief of Rory's treachery 
 every trace of doubt as to his fidelity. 
 
 This being done, De Welskein left the cottage 
 before Rory's return, which did not take place until 
 late, for Rory was so undecided, after all his delib- 
 eration, how he should act with respect to Regan, 
 that it was only the deepening shades of evening which 
 warned him homewards. 
 
 On his return, he heard he had been inquired for 
 by the scholar, so he tapped at his apartment, and 
 announced his presence to De Lacy, who invited him 
 to enter, and bidding him close the door, communi- 
 cated all that had occurred between him and De 
 Welskein. 
 
268 Rory O'More 
 
 Rory was indignant that any one should suppose 
 him so base as to be guilty of the crime of treachery ; 
 and even when De Lacy pointed out to him the 
 strong circumstantial evidence against him, Rory only 
 exclaimed, " To the divil with their evidence ! I 
 never knew evidence of any good, but to ruin a man's 
 characther." And indeed Rory's opinion of evidence 
 is but too often borne out by fact. 
 
 De Lacy endeavoured to calm him, but it was with 
 much difficulty he at last succeeded. Then Rory, in 
 answer to De Lacy's questions about Solomon's 
 allusion to the u uncommon fine ducks," told him the 
 circumstances of the frolic at the fair, which he and 
 Mary, for prudential motives, had previously agreed 
 to say nothing about; and further, communicated 
 Regan's baseness in saying that he had stolen the 
 ducks: "And I wouldn't wondher," said Rory, 
 " if the black-hearted villain was at the bottom o' 
 this^ too." 
 
 De Lacy assured him Regan's name had never 
 been mentioned in the business ; but Rory declared, 
 that as he found people were goin' about to "take his 
 characther, he would not let it pass with Regan what 
 he had said; for how could he know the beginnin' or 
 end of sitch things ? and so the safest way was to 
 make Regan ate his words first." 
 
 To do Rory justice, his walk by the river had 
 tended to cool his anger a good deal, and he was 
 rather inclined to trust to the public for a proper 
 estimation of his character, and to leave the slander 
 of Regan unnoticed, when the fresh information he 
 received from De Lacy added fuel to the fire which 
 had been reduced to embers, and all Rory's indigna- 
 tion blazed up afresh, and confirmed him in thff 
 determination to ascertain if Regan had been traduc- 
 ing him, and if he had, to shame him, by confront- 
 
Rory O'More 269 
 
 ing him openly and giving a public contradiction to 
 the private slander with which he had sought to blast 
 him. 
 
 Rory's unsatisfied cravings to be justified sent him 
 to bed in a fever. He was tortured by a night of 
 dreaming, in which fancy played the tormentor. 
 Alternately the grin of old Solomon, or the penetrat- 
 ing eye of De Welskein, confronted him ; and guard- 
 rooms and cellars, empty streets, crowded fairs, old 
 rusty kettles, and roasting ducks, were huddled to- 
 gether in strange confusion. The ducks were the 
 favourites of his dream : he was haunted by a pair all 
 night; twirl they went before him, till he twirled 
 and twisted in his sleep as if he were roasting too ; 
 and his mind, with the ingenious art of tormenting 
 which dreaming bestows upon it, easily converted 
 dangling dudes into hanging criminals, who, by a 
 sudden transition were condensed into one, and 
 that one, became identified with himself, whom he 
 imagined condemned to be hanged for robbery, and 
 brought out to execution, with all the eyes of his 
 friends and acquaintances staring upon him, until the 
 overwhelming sense of degradation and shame awoke 
 him. In vain he strove to sleep ; night brought no 
 rest to poor Rory, and the dawn saw him an early 
 and unrefreshed riser. 
 
 Immediately after quitting his bed, he started on 
 his tour of discovery, and finding his suspicion as to 
 the author of the calumny against him not unfounded, 
 at once determined on the course he should pursue. 
 - Waiting until the following Sunday, he proceeded 
 to the chapel at the side of the country where Regan 
 resided, which he knew to be the most likely place 
 to meet him, and certainly the most public. For 
 Regan, though a disorderly person, attended mass 
 with punctuality : indeed, so strict is the observance 
 
270 Rory 0" More 
 
 of attendance at public worship on the part of the 
 Irish peasantry, that the man must be very far gone 
 in crime who disregards it. There was an additional 
 reason too for Rory selecting the day and the place 
 for his purpose : after the celebration of the mass, 
 the congregation do not immediately disperse, but 
 assemble round the building outside, forming a sort 
 of social "'change," where those who have not seen 
 each other for the by-gone week barter civilities, and 
 the current gossip of the day is passed about. 
 
 To the chapel, therefore, Rory repaired on the 
 Sunday after his meeting with the tinker, in company 
 with three or four companions, whom he wished to 
 be witnesses of his reproval of Regan for his unhand- 
 some conduct towards him ; and when the mass was 
 ended, he and his friends sought about in the crowd, 
 as they stood in detached groups over the road about 
 the chapel, and at length he perceived Regan talking 
 and laughing, the loudest of a noisy cluster of rollick- 
 ing young fellows, who were cracking jokes on the 
 old men, and saying half-complimentary, half-impu- 
 dent things to the young women who passed by them. 
 
 Rory walked directly up to Regan ; and there was 
 so close a sympathy between Regan's conscience and 
 Rory's look, that the former changed colour as the 
 latter made a dead stand before him, and looked him 
 straight in the face, with the bright and open eye that 
 bears evidence of an honest heart. There was a 
 moment's silence, after which, Rory was the first to 
 speak. 
 
 " Regan," said he, "you have not used me well 
 and you know it." 
 
 " I know little of any thing consarning you, and 
 I wish to know less," replied Regan, as he turned 
 on his heel, and was going away ; but Rory laid his 
 hand upon him, and said firmly, 
 
Rory O'More 271 
 
 " Regan, that won't do ! You 've said things of 
 me behind backs, that I come to contradict before 
 faces; and them that knows both of us is here to the 
 fore, to judge between us." 
 
 " What are you talkin' about, man ? " said Regan 
 with a swaggering air, that but ill concealed his 
 uneasiness. 
 
 " You know well what I 'm talkin' about," an- 
 swered Rory ; " and so does them that hears me. 
 Was it good, Regan, to put an ugly turn on an 
 innocent thrick at a fair, and say I stole your ducks ? 
 I your owld playmate, and the son of dacent 
 people, that never disgraced them, nor never will, 
 plaze God ! " 
 
 " And did n't you take them ? " said Regan with 
 savage effrontery. 
 
 " Ay, take" said Rory : " but, was take the word 
 you used behind my back ? " 
 
 " I 'm not to pick my words for sitch as you," 
 said Regan, who began to recover the faint twinge of 
 shame that abashed him at Rory's first appearance, 
 and seemed now determined to brazen out the 
 affair. 
 
 " Well, I neither pick, nor stale either," said Rory, 
 " and whoever says to the conthrairy has n't the 
 thruth in them. And here I have come this blessed 
 day, and am afther hearin' the blessed mass ; and it 's 
 not at this time, and in this place, I would lay the 
 weight of a lie on my soul ; and yiz are all here 
 round me and hears me, and let them deny me who 
 can ; and I say to your face, Regan, that what you 've 
 been givin' out on me is not the thruth. I would n't 
 use a harder word to an owld friend, though we 're 
 cooler of late." 
 
 " What do you mane by harder words ? " said 
 Regan, with a menacing air. 
 
272 Rory O'More 
 
 " Don't look so angry, Regan. I did n't come 
 here, this quiet and blessed day to fight j I only kem 
 to clear myself in the face o' the world ; and hav- 
 ing done that, I have no more to say, and so let 
 me go my ways in pace and quietness." And Rory 
 was turning away, but Regan prevented him ; and 
 now all his bad passions gaining the ascendancy, he 
 said, 
 
 " If you mane, by c harder words,' to say that you 
 come here to give me the lie, it 's what I won't let 
 you or any man do, and if that 's your plan, I can 
 tell you I '11 thrust your impudent words down your 
 throat with my fist ! " and he clenched his hand 
 fiercely in Rory's face. 
 
 " Regan," said Rory, commanding himself, " I 
 towld you I didn't come here to fight, but to clear 
 myself. Them that knows us both hears me clear 
 myself and that 's enough for me." 
 
 " 'Faith, you 're like your sisther, my buck ! " 
 said Regan : " both o' yiz will go jist half-ways with 
 a man." 
 
 " Regan ! " exclaimed Rory with an honest vehe- 
 mence that forced him to hear him till he finished 
 his sentence, "the black dhrop is in you, or you 
 would n't say an ill word of a dacent girl that never 
 wronged you ! She never liked you, Regan and 
 you know it. She never wint half-ways with you 
 and you know it ; and now to your teeth I tell you, 
 you 're a slandherous liar and you know it ! " 
 
 The word had hardly passed Rory's lips, when 
 a tremendous blow from Regan was aimed at him., 
 which Rory avoided by nimbly springing beyond its 
 reach ; and Regan left himself so open by his wild 
 attack, that our hero put in a hit so well directed 
 that his ruffianly foe was felled to the earth. He 
 rose immediately, however, foaming with rage, and 
 
Rory O'More 273 
 
 was rushing on Rory with tremendous fury, when 
 the by-standers closed in between the combatants, 
 and it was suggested by some that hostilities should 
 proceed no further; while others proposed that if 
 the men were bent on fighting, it would be best to 
 adjourn to some adjacent field and strip for the 
 encounter. Regan's friends were for the latter 
 course ; while the better disposed endeavoured to 
 dissuade Rory from exchanging any more blows. 
 But Rory was high-mettled : he said they all could 
 bear witness he strove as far as he could to prevent 
 matters going to such extremities ; but, as the case 
 stood, he 'd never let it be said that an O'More 
 refused to fight. " I 'd rather 't was any day but 
 Sunday, to be sure," said Rory : "but I heer'd mass ; 
 so, having done my duty to God, I 'm ready to do 
 my duty to man and in throth I '11 do my best 
 to plaze him," said he, throwing off" the upper part 
 of his dress, lightly, and laughing. " I 've the good 
 cause on my side, any how ; so see fair play, boys, 
 and let him do his worst." 
 
 Great interest was excited by the approaching con- 
 test. Regan had the reputation of a bruiser, and was 
 rather inclined to take advantage of it when he had 
 to deal with those who permitted such a practice j 
 and the report having gone abroad that he had been 
 worsted by Rory in the trifling turn-up of the fair, 
 gave rise to various opinions on the subject. 
 
 Let not this surprise the reader it was an event 
 amongst a village population : to those who are be- 
 yond the reach of more exciting objects, the fall of a 
 favourite fighter is of as much importance as the fall 
 of a minister. 
 
 The companions of Regan protested the impossi- 
 bility of Rory's conquest over their champion, but 
 for the chance of his being in liquor at the time; 
 
274 Rory O'More 
 
 and the friends of Rory that is to say, the bulk of 
 the community looked forward to the approaching 
 fight with a degree of dread that there might be but too 
 much truth in the assertion, and that Rory was about 
 to lose his newly-acquired laurels, which they had 
 been flourishing in the teeth of Regan's party with 
 that sort of second-hand triumph people always in- 
 dulge in when some "cock of the walk" has been 
 well plucked. They feared the moment was come 
 which should rob them of the opportunity of saying, 
 "Phoo! Regan indeed! Arrah, sure Rory O'More 
 leathered him ! " 
 
 I will not attempt to describe a boxing-match : it 
 has been often better done than I could do it ; and 
 the better it has been done, the more I have always 
 wished it had been left undone. 
 
 Of the result, all need be said is, that Regan was 
 savage, and Rory, knowing the power of his adver- 
 sary, cautious. This, and his activity, did wonders 
 for him ; and after some furious hitting from Regan, 
 which Rory sometimes guarded and sometimes broke 
 away beyond reach of, Regan began to breathe hard, 
 of which our hero took advantage; the tide soon 
 turned in his favour ; and doubtless, the conscience 
 of either of the combatants had no insignificant influ- 
 ence upon the fight. The ultimate consequence, 
 however, was, that Rory again triumphed over his 
 malignant adversary ; and a sullen silence on the part 
 of a disappointed few, with a hearty shout from the 
 exulting many, declared that Regan had given in, 
 and Rory O'More was the victor. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 CONTAINING DE LACY's LETTER, CONTRASTING THE 
 
 CONDITIONS OF IRELAND AND ENGLAND 
 
 "Look here, upon this picture and on this." 
 
 THE glorious news to Britain of the victory of 
 the nth of October had now spread rejoicing 
 over England, but caused aching to many a heart in 
 Ireland. The Texel fleet was conquered, and its ad- 
 miral a prisoner in England. No more chance of aid 
 might be looked for from that quarter, and for a short 
 time the hopes of the United Irishmen were blighted. 
 
 But in a few days, other news arrived to temper 
 the severity of this blow to their designs, and made 
 them yet more confident of assistance from France. 
 
 Other triumphs than Duncan's filled- the ear of 
 Europe; for just now the rapid and brilliant succes- 
 sion of Buonaparte's victories in Italy more than out- 
 weighe'd the naval conquest of Duncan, and Austria 
 saw, one after another, her experienced generals 
 beaten by the young Corsican, and her veteran armies 
 overwhelmed by the raw levies of impetuous France. 
 The 1 8th of October witnessed the failure of the 
 Bourbon plot in the assemblies of Paris ; the Clichy 
 Club was suppressed ; Pichegru and Carnot fled ; the 
 republic again triumphed over the attempts of the 
 Royalists, and was once more secured under a new 
 Directory. Austria was forced to sign a peace dic- 
 tated by the enemy, and France was more free than 
 
276 Rory 0' More 
 
 ever to pursue her hostility against England. Then 
 came that tremendous assembling of her victorious 
 troops, which soon after were gathered on the northern 
 shore, under the denomination of the " Army of Eng- 
 land ; " and then was threatened the memorable " in- 
 vasion " that occupied all the attention of Great 
 Britain. 
 
 This was the period of all others most favourable 
 to the views of the Irish republican party ; and De 
 Lacy, seizing the occasion, despatched a letter to 
 France, urging immediate aid to Ireland, which was 
 ripe for revolt. 
 
 His report ran as follows : 
 
 "My last letter was written against the grain; I 
 had to tell of many unexpected truths, evincing Eng- 
 land's security : but now my words flow from my 
 heart, and I say, Strike for Ireland, and it will be an 
 easy victory. Here all is ripe for revolution. The 
 besotted and cruel intolerance of the party in power, 
 and the deplorable wretchedness and long-suffering 
 of the neglected and oppressed people, cannot go any 
 farther. 
 
 " The former cannot be greater tyrants, nor the 
 latter greater slaves ; the one party cannot add greater 
 weight to their chain, nor the other ever have greater 
 cause to wish it broken. Come, then, and strike the 
 manacles from the bondsmen ! 
 
 " This is indeed the land of misery and misrule ! 
 How the sister island, as she is called, of Great Britain, 
 can be in so degraded a state, while England revels in 
 prosperity, is one of those enigmas which baffles all 
 attempt at solution. In contrast to the state of Eng- 
 land, listen to a rough sketch of the condition of this 
 lovely but wretched country. 
 
 " One striking difference between the two islands 
 is, that while in England society consists of many 
 
Rory O'More 277 
 
 grades, sinking slightly the one beneath the other, but 
 presenting no startling difference in the descent ; in 
 Ireland there are but two, the upper and the lower. 
 There is a sort of mongrel middle rank, but consist- 
 ing of too few to constitute any thing like a class, in 
 comparison with the others. In England there are 
 many degrees between the peer and the peasant ; 
 but not so here : the cementing portions of society are 
 panting ; the wholesome links that bind it together 
 f xist not here ; in short, Ireland may be comprised 
 under two great heads, those who inflict, and those 
 who suffer. 
 
 " In Ireland the aristocracy seem to live wholly for 
 themselves : the poor they seem to consider utterly 
 unworthy of being thought of. Look at the English 
 tenantry, lived amongst by their landlords, and 
 their comforts cared for ; while the poor Irish are left 
 to take what care they can of themselves. If the 
 fever visit an English village, there is the manor- 
 house to apply to, whence the hand of affluence can 
 be stretched forth to afford the comforts which the 
 hour of sickness demands. If the typhus rage in Ire- 
 land, there is not for miles, perhaps, the hall of a 
 proprietor to look to ; and where there is, it is vacant ; 
 grass grows before its doors, and closed shutters say 
 to the destitute, l No help have you here. My lord 
 spends elsewhere the gold you have paid to his agent, 
 and his wine-cellar is not to be invaded by a pauper.' 
 His claret flows freely midst the laugh of revelry, but 
 may not retard the expiring sigh of some dying father 
 of a helpless offspring. c Drain the cask dry for riot ! ' 
 cries the bacchanal, 4 and let the call of charity be 
 echoed back by the empty barrel ! ' 
 
 " What can such a landlord hope for from his ne- 
 glected serf? Is it to be expected that his name will 
 be heard with blessings and his person looked upon 
 
278 Rory O'More 
 
 with attachment, or that the wholesome link between 
 landlord and tenant can exist under such a state of 
 things ? No : they are not beings of the same com- 
 munity man and the beast of the field are not more 
 distinct than these two classes of people, and the 
 time will come when the Irish landlord shall bitterly 
 lament, that the only bond which held the peasant to 
 his master, was his chain. 
 
 " Be it yours to hasten this epoch, for all is ripe 
 for change, because any change must be better for 
 them ; at least, no change can make them worse. 
 Therefore are they brands ready for the lighting. 
 
 " I told you of the comforts of a village in England. 
 What is such a thing in Ireland ? an irregular jumble 
 of mud-hovels, whose thatch has been so long with- 
 out repair that its decomposition produces vegetation ; 
 and you may see ragged cocks and hens feeding on 
 the roof; a pig wallows on a dunghill before the door 
 (lucky when they have one !) until a starved cur, 
 roused by some half (or whole) naked children, dis- 
 turbs him from his place of enjoyment, and drives 
 him for shelter into the house, whose mistress protects 
 1 the gintleman that pays the rint.' I heard the say- 
 ing of a l fool,' or l natural,' as they call idiots in this 
 country, which amused me much for its graphic truth : 
 his definition of a village was admirably given in four 
 words, 4 Pigs, dogs, dunghills, and blackguards ! ' 
 
 " The hovels of the Irish peasantry are not by any 
 means so good as the stables of their masters' horses. 
 The lord of the soil would not let his hunter sleep in 
 the wretched place he suffers his tenantry to dwell in, 
 and for which he receives the rent that supports him 
 in his wastefulness. Nor does he seek to better their 
 condition ; and if a murmur of discontent escape 
 these ill-used people, they are branded with the foul- 
 est names, and the guilty party seeks, by heaping 
 
Rory 0' More 279 
 
 abuse and calumny on those whom he injures, to jus- 
 tify the conduct which has produced the very state of 
 things of which he complains. 
 
 " I spoke of the English peasant-children playing 
 at cricket, and remarked that the peasantry must be 
 in a state of comfort who can afford to buy the mate- 
 rials of play for their offspring. What is the Irish 
 game amongst the children ? an imitation of the 
 manly exercise of hurling, which they call ' commons : ' 
 this is nothing more than driving a stone before them 
 with a crooked stick, which is cut from any hedge 
 that may afford it. The English children took off 
 their clothes, to play : not so the Irish, and for the 
 best reason in the world, because they had no 
 clothes to take off; they are nearly all in a state of 
 nudity, and even when not quite uncovered, their 
 wretched rags are almost worse than nakedness. 
 
 " It is impossible to conceive human nature reduced 
 to so great a state of privation in every way as it is 
 here ; and even under all this privation they are 
 merry, and I verily believe would be content, only 
 they are goaded by insult and oppression into the 
 bargain. The most active of their persecutors are 
 the mongrel middle class to whom I alluded ; 
 Squireens they are called by the people. These fel- 
 lows have not an idea beyond a dog, a gun, a horse, 
 and the pleasures of the table. They are generally 
 the descendants of Cromwell's or William's troopers, 
 and, of course, are the fiercest upholders of the 
 ascendency which gives them all they have. But 
 they are not even content with this : they must re- 
 Vile and malign the people whom their forefathers 
 despoiled. They are the toad-eaters of those in 
 power, to whom they bow, and from whom in return 
 they get the refuse of the sops of which the ascendant 
 partv have the dispensing, 
 a. 3 
 
280 Rory O'More 
 
 " From this class are all the minor fry of govern- 
 ment officers selected, and in their hands is the 
 magistracy throughout the country vested. The con- 
 sequence is, that the people have not the shadow of 
 Justice to shelter under, much less her shield : the 
 law of the land (so called), and as it is administered 
 by this partisan magistracy, is not the poor man's 
 friend, but his foe. So they are all ready to upset 
 such a state of things as soon as they can. Do not 
 delay this epoch ; I repeat it, strike now, and 
 Ireland shall be free ! 
 
 " There is every thing ready to aid in the enter- 
 prise. In the North, the organisation is extensive, 
 and arms and ammunition prepared ; and it is there, 
 as Tone has recommended, I would advise the descent 
 to be made. 
 
 " The midland counties have a tolerably well-or- 
 ganised union also, and it has spread to the West. 
 It is where I am at present, in the South, that there 
 is less of preparation for revolt ; but the spirit to be 
 free is every where, and they are all ready to rise the 
 moment they have a force of disciplined troops landed, 
 to form a nucleus round which they may gather. 
 
 " Some time it will take, of course, to make them 
 good soldiers ; but they are very quick, and in a cause 
 in which their hearts lay would soon make available 
 troops. The great requisites for a soldier they possess 
 in a supereminent degree, long endurance of fatigue 
 and fasting, and courage not to be surpassed by any 
 nation under heaven. 
 
 " In short, never was there a country more ready 
 for revolution, nor more needing it. Every thing is 
 antagonised, every thing in extremes: it is waste or 
 want, raiment or fags, feasting or starvation. There 
 is no middle to any thing. The very column of 
 society is broken the capital and base alone remain : 
 
Rory O'More 281 
 
 the shaft is shattered, and the two extremes are in 
 ruinous separation. 
 
 u If any thing were wanting to complete this fearful 
 state of things, it is this : with these two parties, re- 
 ligion is a badge, and not a blessing ; and they make 
 their creeds, which profess peace, a war-cry." 
 
 This letter De Lacy forwarded to France ; and 
 about a fortnight afterwards, he himself made a visit 
 to Dublin, to consult with the chiefs of the revolu- 
 tionary party on the necessity of having the organisa- 
 tion in a state of readiness for co-operation with the 
 force from France which he doubted not, his letter 
 would hasten. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 SHOWING HOW A GENTLEMAN MIGHT NOT DRESS 
 HIMSELF AS HE PLEASED FORTY YEARS AGO, IN 
 IRELAND 
 
 " Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief." 
 
 Othello. 
 
 'T is a poor distressed 
 
 For the wearing of the green, 
 For the wearing of the green, 
 tressed country for the wearing of the green. 
 National Ballad. 
 
 ON communicating with the Central Committee in 
 Dublin, De Lacy found all was in readiness to 
 co-operate with a force landing from France. But, 
 sanguine as were their expectations of aid from the 
 republic, their disappointments had been so frequent, 
 that, after some time had elapsed, they urged De Lacy 
 to present himself in person to the Directory, and 
 urge an immediate movement in their favour. "Im- 
 patience," said they, " begins to manifest itself in some ; 
 despair in others ; and action becomes necessary. 
 How many opportunities have been frustrated ! - 
 While there was mutiny to a fearful extent in the 
 English navy, our friends in the Texel could not give 
 us aid, and thus a favourable occasion was lost j and 
 now, when the recent victories and glorious peace 
 France has achieved leave her free for action now 
 is the time to cripple Britain ! Should this moment 
 be allowed to pass, we may never find another." 
 Thus urged, De Lacy determined on acting in 
 
Rory O'More 28. 
 
 accordance with the views of the leading members of 
 the United men, and returned to the South, to make 
 the necessary arrangements with De Welskein for his 
 being conveyed to France. During De Lacy's ab- 
 sence, the circumstances of the immediate region of 
 our story were ripening into more serious action. 
 " The plot was thickening," as the romance readers 
 say, and Rory was getting more and more into hot 
 water. 
 
 The affair of the guard-room, and his private inter- 
 view with the colonel, had spread amongst Regan's 
 set ; and however De Welskein was answered by 
 De Lacy upon every charge he could bring against 
 O'More, it was not such an easy matter to silence 
 the murmurs of a parcel of prejudiced ruffians, whose 
 personal dislike of our hero (because he was not of 
 their set, and had thrashed their leader) rendered them 
 impervious to every particle of evidence which they 
 did not choose to believe. 
 
 At this time, too, they dreaded the approaching 
 trial of Darby Daly, the man who had been arresttd 
 the same night as Rory. He was not only a smug- 
 gler, but a United man ; and they feared, in case of a 
 conviction, that he might " blab " to save himself. 
 So, to prevent such a disagreeable result, and as the 
 gaol where he was confined was too strong to admit 
 any hope of escape, it was determined that the awk- 
 ward circumstances likely to result from a trial should 
 be avoided, by putting the prosecutor and principal 
 witness out of the way. 
 
 This was no less a person than " The Collector," 
 Scrubbs ; and how he was to be disposed of, was 
 matter of consultation with De Welskein's party, 
 who, being all liable to implication in the smuggling 
 affair, were equally anxious to get rid of the collector. 
 Now, " Soldering Solomon," being a long-headed old 
 
284 Rory O'More 
 
 fellow, and interested in the success of the smuggling, 
 might help them in the matter; and as there was an 
 appointment made for the following Sunday, when a 
 certain "jollification " was to be held, at which most 
 of the " set " were to be present, it was agreed to 
 postpone the consideration of the collector's fate 
 until that day, when the tinker might assist in their 
 councils. 
 
 In the mean time, De Lacy sought De Welskein, 
 who promised to be ready to sail for France within 
 the ensuing week. De Lacy urged an earlier de- 
 parture; but as the smuggler said his lugger would 
 not be off the coast until that time, his embarkation 
 was of nece'ssity delayed. 
 
 But an event soon took place which might have 
 terminated fatally to De Lacy, and prevented any 
 future voyages he projected. He had been in the 
 neighbouring village, and was about to return, when 
 a troop of yeomanry cavalry rode in and halted half- 
 way up the street, opposite to M'Garry's, the apothe- 
 cary's, at whose shop the post-office was established. 
 The troop had been under the inspection of the dis- 
 trict general that day, and was then returning, when 
 Solomon Slink, Esq. of Slinkstown, captain of the 
 corps, halted his troop, as already stated, to inquire at 
 the post-office if there were any letters for him. The 
 captain was a violent person in his politics ; one of 
 those with whom it is not enough to support their own 
 opinions, but to knock down those of every body who 
 thinks differently from themselves : and in those days, 
 when on the side of authority so much could be done 
 with impunity, such a person was prone to coinmit 
 outrage on very trivial grounds. 
 
 It so happened, that as he rode up to M'Garry's 
 shop, De Lacy was about to leave it, and was just 
 upon the threshold as the captain was going to ask 
 
Rory 'More 285 
 
 for his letters ; but his eye was attracted by the green 
 handkerchief which De Lacy wore, which, being the 
 national colour of Ireland, was offensive to the sight 
 of those who loved oppression better than their coun- 
 try ; and so the captain, being at the head of his 
 corps, thought he could exercise a bit of loyal tyranny 
 with safety. 
 
 Casting a ferocious look upon De Lacy, he said in 
 the most offensive manner, " Why do you wear that 
 green handkerchief?" 
 
 De Lacy was taken by surprise at the extraordinary 
 insolence of the man, and the ultra intolerance that 
 would interfere with the private right of dressing as 
 one pleased. Before he could answer, the question 
 was repeated with increased offensiveness. 
 
 " I believe, sir," said De Lacy, " I have as good 
 a right to wear. a handkerchief as you." 
 
 " Not a green one," said the captain. 
 
 " I 'm not aware of any law against wearing green, 
 sir," said De Lacy. 
 
 "/'// show you law for it!" said the other. 
 Take it off, sir ! " 
 
 " I shall do no such thing, sir." 
 
 " Won't you ? Then if you don't, by G d 1 
 will ! " 
 
 "That you may do if you like, sir," said De Lacy, 
 folding his arms and drawing himself up to his full 
 height. 
 
 The captain pressed his spurs to his horse's side, 
 and plunging rudely upon De Lacy, he laid his hand 
 upon the tie of his handkerchief, which he dragged 
 from his neck and flung upon the ground, saying, 
 " There 's your d d rebel green for you ! " 
 
 De Lacy grew as pale and cold, and firm, too, as 
 marble, at the brutal affront, and said to the yeomanry 
 hero, with a tone of chilling mockery in his voice, 
 
286 Rory 0" More 
 
 "Thank you! And now, sir, after your polite 
 attention to my toilet, may I beg the favour of 
 your dismounting and walking into the fields with 
 me ? I see your holsters are provided with pistols, 
 and two of your own gentlemen can arrange our 
 ground." 
 
 " Arrange your grandmother ! " said the polished 
 captain. " Fight a rebel, indeed ! I 'd see you d d 
 first." 
 
 " Then, sir," said De Lacy, " at the head of your 
 own corps, I tell you you 're a coward ! " 
 
 Captain Slink half drew his sword ; but his arm 
 was arrested by the Protestant clergyman of the parish, 
 who fortunately was beside him, or perhaps De Lacy's 
 life might have paid the forfeit of his temerity, in 
 daring to object to this loyal aggression, and fling 
 back insult for insult. 
 
 Having thus defied the captain without producing 
 the desired result, De Lacy turned on his heel, and 
 left him boiling with indignation at the epithet that 
 had been flung in his teeth. 
 
 " Does any one know who the rascal is ? " said 
 he. 
 
 " I know where the fellow lives," said the col- 
 lector, who, as well as Sweeny, was one of the 
 corps. 
 
 The captain, having received his letters from the 
 post-office, the troop was again put in motion ; and 
 on the road a long conversation took place between 
 Scrubbs, Sweeny, and the commander, relative to 
 De Lacy, on whom they had always looked with 
 a suspicious eye, and after whom they thought it 
 necessary some inquiry should be made. " Never 
 fear," said the captain ; " I Ml have a sharp eye on 
 the chap." 
 
 That evening, while the lord of Slinkstown was 
 
Rory 0' More 287 
 
 drinking his claret, he was seriously considering a 
 letter he had just received, a passage in which arrested 
 his attention, in connection with the occurrence be- 
 tween him and De Lacy that day. It mentioned 
 fears being entertained amongst the well-affected to 
 the government, that emissaries from France were at 
 work in Ireland ; and the writer (who was an official 
 in Dublin Castle) had heard some rumours of a sus- 
 picious person having been lately seen leaving Dublin 
 in one of the southern coaches; and recommending 
 to the captain vigilance about his district, in case 
 questionable people might be observed. 
 
 At this period, though government had not any 
 tangible evidence to go upon to prove a conspiracy, 
 yet their fears were awake upon the subject ; and 
 some arrests had been made on mere suspicion, even 
 at this time, and their spies were on the alert in all 
 quarters. 
 
 It will not, under these circumstances, be wondered 
 at that the captain determined to see more about 
 De Lacy, against whom not only his loyalty urged 
 him to be hostile, but the insult which had been cast 
 upon him so publicly : he therefore ordered a muster 
 of the corps for the next day, and determined on 
 arresting De Lacy. 
 
 That young gentleman pursued his road homewards 
 after leaving the village, muttering desperate speeches 
 all the way, and longing in his inmost soul to have 
 a shot at the captain : but as that was clearly out of 
 the question, he was obliged to be satisfied with call- 
 ing him fifty thousand " ruffians " and " poltroons." 
 This relieved his mind considerably; and after swear- 
 ing over about a mile of ground, he began to think 
 that, after what had taken place, it was just as well 
 he was leaving the country, where to have remained 
 without getting "satisfaction " would have " stuck in 
 
288 , Rory O'More 
 
 his gizzard," as Lord Chesterfield says; so he was 
 all impatience for getting to France, to hurry the ex- 
 pedition, that he might return and wreak his vengeance 
 on all the yeomanry in Ireland for the insult he had 
 received from the bully captain. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 SHOWING HOW A PASS MAY DEFEND A SOLDIER, 
 AS WELL AS A SOLDIER DEFEND A PASS; AND 
 HOW A MAN IN AUTHORITY MAY ORDER SABRES 
 FOR ONE, WITHOUT ADMIRING PISTOLS FOR TWO 
 
 THE morning after this untoward occurrence, De 
 Welskein and De Lacy were in consultation 
 in Rory O'More's cottage upon the projected trip to 
 France. The smuggler anticipated that the Monday 
 or Tuesday following would see the lugger upon the 
 coast, and he appointed a place where De Lacy 
 should be in readiness to embark. Before they had 
 finished their conference, De Lacy's ear caught the 
 sound of the approaching tramp of horses ; and look- 
 ing from the window, he saw the troop of yeomanry 
 cavalry trotting down the boreen, with his friend the 
 captain at their head, flanked by Scrubbs and Sweeny. 
 Scrubbs never had forgiven De Lacy the liberal 
 sentiments he expressed on the coach the day of his 
 journey downwards ; and Sweeny, whose indignation 
 was great against Rory for the alteration of the 
 tombstone, had a misgiving that this mysterious 
 stranger had something to do with turning a loyal 
 Protestant into ridicule. Therefore, both these gentle- 
 men, independently of their duty to their captain and 
 the good of the state, were very willing to join in 
 a domiciliary visit to Rory O'More, and make an 
 arrest upon his friend. 
 
290 Rory O'More 
 
 The moment De Lacy saw the yeomanry, he calcu- 
 lated some mischief was in the wind ; and feeling 
 that the presence of a foreigner under existing cir- 
 cumstances would bear an unfavourable interpretation 
 against him, he opened the door to call for Rory, who, 
 being always on the alert in cases of emergency, had 
 his hand already upon the latch to warn De Lacy of 
 the approach of the armed men. 
 
 " He must not be seen," said De Lacy, pointing 
 to De Welskein. " Can you conceal him ? " 
 
 " In a jiffey," said Rory. " Make haste, your 
 sowl ! " said he to the Frenchman ; " come along 
 here ! " and he pulled the smuggler across the floor 
 of the kitchen, to where, in a recess beside the fire- 
 place, a kish used for holding turf stood ; and Rory, 
 in an instant emptying the turf from the basket, said, 
 " Down with you, Divilskin, my darlin', down on 
 your marrow-bones ! " 
 
 The Frenchman, though he did not understand his 
 language, comprehended his meaning, and dropping 
 on his knees, Rory inverted the kish upon him and 
 covered him completely. 
 
 While all this was doing inside the house, the 
 captain had his plans to put in practice outside : he 
 completely surrounded the cottage with his men to 
 prevent an escape, and then he swaggered into the 
 house with his sword clattering at his heels, followed 
 by Sweeny and Scrubbs. 
 
 De Lacy, apprehending that the women might be 
 alarmed and their agitation be productive of mischief, 
 came forward to meet the captain and his supporters 
 at once, that his presence might call off their attention 
 from the widow and her daughter. Before they who 
 came to seek him had time to ask a question, De 
 Lacy said, " I rather think the honour of this visit is 
 meant for me." 
 
Rory O'More 291 
 
 The captain at the first glance did not recognise 
 him, for De Lacy had a dressing-gown on, as his 
 coat had been wetted through that morning by a 
 heavy shower of rain ; but on a second look, the 
 yeomanry hero perceived it was his man, and said, 
 u Yes, you are the person I want." 
 
 De Lacy, pointing politely to the door of his bed- 
 room, whence he had stepped, said, " Will you do me 
 the favour to go into my room ? " 
 
 "Go on," said the captain; "we'll follow you." 
 
 De Lacy, bowing courteously and still pointing to 
 the door, said, " After you, if you please." And 
 there was that influence in his manner which an air 
 of politeness always bestows, that even the brutality 
 of the squireen captain was not insensible to its 
 power, and he and his satellites entered the room, 
 followed by De Lacy, who closed the door. 
 
 41 Gentlemen, pray be seated," continued he. 
 
 " There 's no necessity, our business here is very 
 short." 
 
 " May I beg to know what is your business, sir ? " 
 
 " That 's just the question I was going to ask you. 
 I want to know who and what you are, and where 
 you come from." 
 
 " I have yet to learn, sir, what authority you have 
 for asking such a question." 
 
 " That 's always the answer that people make who 
 can't give a good account of themselves." 
 
 At this moment the door was opened, and Rory, 
 putting in his head, said, " I beg your pardon, sir, 
 here 's your coat : " and De Lacy saw in the expres- 
 sion of his eye that he had some meaning in his in- 
 trusion ; so, going to the door, he received the 
 garment from Rory, who said in a whisper as he 
 handed it to him, " The pass is in the pocket." 
 
 De Lacy caught Rory's idea on the instant, and 
 
292 Rory O'More 
 
 begging pardon of his visitors, threw off his dressing- 
 gown and resumed his coat. 
 
 The moment that Rory had seen the captain enter 
 the house, the thought struck him of the colonel's 
 pass being made an instrument of safety to De Lacy ; 
 but how to put it into his possession was the question. 
 Just then his eye caught the coat hanging before the 
 fire ; and to get the pass from his box, put it in the 
 pocket, and make De Lacy change his garment, was 
 the work of a moment. 
 
 DC Lacy felt for the pass, and when his fingers 
 touched the precious slip of paper, he knew he pos- 
 sessed a talisman to paralyse the attempt made against 
 him ; so, assuming the most perfect composure, 
 he muttered some commonplace apology about his 
 being found in dishabille, and again requested his 
 visitors to be seated. 
 
 "You seem to take this very easy, sir," said the 
 captain ; " but it won't do, I arrest you, sir ; " 
 and he was advancing upon De Lacy, who retired 
 rapidly a few paces, and seizing from a corner cup- 
 board a case of pistols, he presented them upon his 
 would-be captor, and said, " Dare to lay a hand on 
 me, and you are a dead man ! " 
 
 The captain paused, but said to Scrubbs and 
 Sweeny, " Advance and seize him ! " 
 
 But Scrubbs and Sweeny looked at De Lacy's pis- 
 tols, and then at each other, and seemed to have no 
 greater stomach for being shot than their commander. 
 
 u Don't be rash, gentlemen," said De Lacy ; though 
 indeed there seemed no great necessity for his caution, 
 from the moment his pistols made their appearance. 
 He laid down one of the weapons, and putting his 
 hand into his pocket, drew forth the pass, which he 
 presented to the captain, saying, "I suppose, sir, you 
 know what that is ? " 
 
Rory O'More 293 
 
 The captain was thunderstruck. 
 
 " What have you to say for yourself now, sir ? " 
 said De Lacy with cutting severity in his voice. 
 
 " Is that his writing ? " said Slink, showing the pass 
 to Scrubbs, who, he knew, was familiar with the 
 character. Scrubbs answered in the affirmative. 
 
 The captain handed back the pass, and mumbled 
 some lame apology, in which, "very sorry,"- "a 
 thousand pardons," - " suspicious appearances," 
 "strange times," &c. &c. were huddled together; 
 " but how could he know ? " 
 
 " You had better wait until you do know, next 
 time, sir," said De Lacy, " and not pull neckcloths 
 from unoffending persons for the future." 
 
 " For the occurrence of yesterday, I beg to offer 
 you " 
 
 " Pray say no more on that subject, sir. You 
 affronted me, and / insulted you : if you are content, / 
 am." 
 
 Captain Slink protested he was delighted to find 
 he had been mistaken, and could not think of 
 harbouring any resentment against a loyal gentleman ; 
 that he never was more surprised in his life, " he 
 could not comprehend." 
 
 " I dare say, sir, there are many things above 
 your comprehension," said De Lacy : " but as a 
 word of parting advice, I recommend you in future 
 to abstain from aggressions on better men than 
 yourself." 
 
 " Sir, I don't see," said the captain, " why you 
 should insinuate " 
 
 " If you don't like what I say, sir," said De Lacy, 
 " there 's fair ground at the back of the house ; and 
 here 's a case of pistols." 
 
 " By no means, sir," said the captain : " I did n't 
 mean that ; these are not times when loyal men should 
 
294 Rory O'More 
 
 quarrel among themselves." In short, the bully 
 backed out. 
 
 Scrubbs and Sweeny were mute witnesses of this 
 scene, which was equally astounding to them as their 
 commander ; but just before leaving the room, 
 Sweeny ventured to say in the most obsequious 
 manner to De Lacy (for the moment he showed the 
 colonel's pass, his high tone overawed the whole 
 three), that he begged to ask him what his opinion 
 was of Rory O'More. 
 
 " He is as worthy of trust as I am," said De Lacy. 
 
 " He has your confidence, then, sir ? " said Scrubbs. 
 
 "Most implicitly, sir," said De Lacy. 
 
 Captain Slink in the mean time had made his exit, 
 as Rory said, "like a dog without his tail;" and as 
 soon as Scrubbs and Sweeny were in their saddles, he 
 went to the right-about, rather crest-fallen at his two 
 subs having witnessed his poltroonery in shying De 
 Lacy's invitation to " pistols for two." 
 
 When the corps was fairly gone, Rory lifted the 
 kish under which De Welskein was concealed, who 
 emerged from his wicker ambush covered with the 
 dust of the turf, and cutting a comical figure. As he 
 shook himself and slapped the particles of peat from 
 his person, he grimaced, and ejaculated " Sacr/f " 
 continually, and seemed little satisfied with the place 
 which had been selected for his retreat ; but Rory 
 assured him, as he helped him to clean himself, that 
 he had increased his consequence by the transaction. 
 
 " How is dat ? " said the Frenchman. 
 
 " Sure I made you a gintleman of the turf! " said 
 Rory. 
 
 " Rory," said De Lacy, " you 're a capital fellow ; 
 give me your hand ! Your presence of mind on 
 this occasion has saved us all." 
 
 " Oh, thin, if Scrubbs only knew how I came by 
 
Rory 0* More 295 
 
 the same pass ! " said Rory. " Faix, it 's his own 
 darlin* rib that saved all the bones in our skins this 
 day." 
 
 " It 's your ready wit we may thank," said De 
 Lacy. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Rory. " It is n't my 
 head, but Scrubbs's, you 're behowlden to." 
 
 " One thing is clear, however," said De Lacy: " I 
 must n't stay here any longer. Should the affair of 
 the pass get wind, the would be back on us im- 
 mediately." 
 
 " Thrue enough," said Rory. " I thought so my- 
 self; but I didn't like to say it first; it would look 
 like wishing to get rid of you." 
 
 " Don't think so unworthily of me, Rory," said De 
 Lacy, " as to suppose I could ever believe an ungener- 
 ous sentiment might find a place in your heart." 
 
 A council was now held between the parties as to 
 the best mode of proceeding. It was agreed that De 
 Lacy should proceed to the coast without delay ; and 
 this being decided on, he set about making his 
 arrangements at once. Any English books he had, 
 he set apart as a present for Mary ; and calling her to 
 his room, begged her acceptance of them as a small 
 testimonial of his sense of her care and attention 
 during his dangerous illness. Poor Mary was quite 
 overcome with this proof of his respect for her ; 
 that she should have his books, the scholar's books. 
 It made her proud ; but her pride was mingled with 
 sorrow, that they were going to lose the society of 
 this cultivated person, whose presence in their cottage 
 they looked upon as an honour, and whose courteous* 
 manners had won him their affection. 
 
 " Sure it 's sorry we are you 're goin', sir," said 
 Mary. 
 
 " I regret it myself, Mary," said De Lacy. " I 
 
 VOL. ii. 3 
 
296 Rory O'More 
 
 have found more pure and disinterested kindness 
 under this roof than ever I met before, or may ever 
 meet again in this wide world, and I shall never 
 forget it ; and when I come back to Ireland, which I 
 trust will be soon, I shall not be long in the country 
 without coming to see you all. Take these few 
 books, Mary : your name is written in them with my 
 own hand." 
 
 With these words, he gave the books to the girl, 
 who was so touched by this last little mark of atten- 
 tion that she could not speak, and on receiving the 
 present, a mute curtsy was all she returned, as she 
 held down her head to hide the tears that were com- 
 ing thick and fast ; and before she reached the door, 
 De Lacy heard her sobbing. 
 
 " Kind and sensitive people ! " said he. 
 
 To the Widow O'More he begged in the most 
 delicate manner to offer some gold, for all the trouble 
 and expense he had caused ; but she would not listen 
 to such a proposition. In vain he urged the propriety 
 and justice of it the widow was inexorable. 
 
 " Sure, sir, a gintleman, as you are ; and it is 
 the rale gintleman you are, for it is the civil word and 
 the kind word is always, and ever was, readiest with 
 you ; I say, a gintleman to live undher our humble 
 roof, and be content with our humble ways, and never 
 complain, sure it is an honour you done us, and 
 you would n't think of affronting us now ! " 
 
 " Not for the world, my dear Mrs. O'More : " 
 and De Lacy took her hand and shook it warmly ; 
 
 ^ 
 
 " Don't say a word more, sir ; sure you said dear 
 Mrs. O'More to me, as if I was a lady : and to have 
 that said to me by you, sir, sure it 's more than I 
 desarve if I done twice as much for you ; sure that 's 
 prouder return to me than all the goold I could tell ; 
 
Rory 0' More 297 
 
 and God speed you, wherever you go, and send you 
 safe ! and maybe we '11 see you agin," and she 
 paused as she added " or maybe we won't : they 're 
 quare times, and sore times." Here she closed the 
 door. "Don't think me impudent, sir, nor prying, 
 nor meddling; but sure I can't -help seein' what I 
 see ; ' it 's coming it's comin'J and it '11 be the sore 
 day for poor Ireland ! But, sure, if it 's God's will, 
 his blessed will must be done ! And there 's my 
 darlin' boy, my Rory, and he in the thick of it ! and 
 who knows but his precious life and sure my own 
 
 heart's blood is not as precious ! Oh, God ! Oh, 
 
 God ! " 
 
 De Lacy spoke soothingly to her and attempted to 
 calm her. 
 
 " Don't think me foolish, sir ; don't, I 'm 
 done now ; only I know of coorse it must be. Rory 
 has the heart of a lion, though the gentleness of the 
 lamb is in him too ; the good son and brother he is, I 
 won't deny : but he can't be kept off that thing ; he 
 thinks it 's his duty to his counthry ; and sure that 's 
 the manly part, and why would n't he be a man, 
 though the poor mother's heart sinks with fear ? 
 And I know you 're great with him, sir : not that I 
 blame you don't think the like, Rory would be 
 jist the same if he never set eyes on you ; and I 'm 
 proud in my poor thremblin' heart to think that my 
 boy is worthy of that depindince." 
 
 " He 's a noble fellow," said De Lacy. 
 
 " God bless you for the words ! " said she, weeping 
 with contending emotions. "And you'll be at the 
 head of it, I know ; and it 's the brave and the bowld 
 leader you '11 be, /or you 're a gintleman. And it 's to 
 France you 're goin' ; is n't it to France ? " 
 
 " It is," said De Lacy, who could not at the 
 moment have refused her the deepest confidence.- 
 
298 Rory O'More 
 
 " And will they come soon ? " said she eagerly. 
 
 u I hope so," said he. 
 
 " Oh, I wish it was over ! I wish it was over ! for 
 my heart thrembles for my boy." 
 
 " Fear not," said De Lacy : " the truly brave are 
 in less danger than the coward." 
 
 " Plaze God ! plaze God ! " said the mother. 
 
 " I hope soon to be back again," said De Lacy 
 " and at the head of my grenadiers ; " added he, 
 catching the enthusiasm of the mother, who gazed on 
 him with an excited eye that gleamed through her 
 tears. " I go to summon the victorious troops of 
 France to your aid, and Ireland shall soon be 
 free ! " 
 
 The enthusiastic woman sunk upon her knees, and, 
 with the earnestness of devotion in her manner, she 
 said, " May the God of heaven speed you, and watch 
 over you and protect you, and guard you, and all thim 
 that fights the cause of the counthry ! " Her lips 
 moved for a few seconds, as if in prayer ; and mark- 
 ing herself with the sign of the cross, she arose from 
 her knees, calmed by this outpouring of her feelings; 
 then drying her eyes, and taking De Lacy's hands 
 between her own, she raised her eyes to heaven, and 
 saying fervently, " May God bless you ! " left him. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 A SUBTERRANEAN MEETING. THE SUDDEN AP- 
 PEARANCE OF AN UNEXPECTED AGENT, THREAT- 
 ENING THE IMPRISONMENT AND DEATH OF DE 
 WELSKE1N AND HIS PARTY 
 
 THE Sunday arrived which had been appointed for 
 the meeting of De Welskein and the smugglers 
 in "The Folly." 
 
 This was the name given to the ruins of an old, un- 
 finished, rambling sort of edifice, which seemed to 
 have been begun without a beginning, if one may say 
 so, and never came to an end. The name is common 
 to such sort of absurdities ; and this is one of the 
 follies not peculiar to the Emerald Isle, for the 
 same things, with the same names, exist in England. 
 
 In one of the vaults underneath the pile the smug- 
 glers used to meet, and the place was peculiarly fitted 
 for such secret purposes, from its extreme loneliness. 
 The ruins stood in a romantic little valley, along 
 whose abrupt declivities old thorn-trees wreathed 
 their branches in fantastic forms, and gave out the 
 perfume of their white blossoms when the year was 
 young. A mountain stream, which had its source 
 about a mile above the valley, tumbled about through 
 the rocks of this wooded gorge with a wildness and 
 frolic characteristic of its recent birth : lower down 
 its course, where its banks were fairer and flowers 
 were growing, it circled about in eddying pools as if 
 loath to leave the pleasant places ; and its bubbles and 
 
300 Rory O'More 
 
 froth, and lingering amid beauty, resembled a riper 
 age; and at last to the plain it went. The dead 
 level of the world reduced it to a quieter pace; and 
 the rollicking stream settled down into a very smooth, 
 deep, easy-going gentleman. 
 
 Close beside the building, this stream gave a 
 spreading sweep, forming one of those pools already 
 alluded to : it was one of the stages in the course of 
 its existence, and possibly induced the projector of the 
 Folly to pitch on this spot for his practice, from the 
 beauty it bestowed upon the scene. This stream, 
 however, was liable to sudden and violent floodings, 
 from its mountain birth; and one of the corners of 
 the ruin gave evidence that it reached a height and 
 force sufficient to wear its flood-mark on the masonrv. 
 I will not say it had the reputation of being haunted, 
 but, from its loneliness, it was a place rather avoided. 
 The valley, perhaps, had been always lonely, but the 
 old Folly made it appear more so ; for what gives 
 so deep an aspect of desolation to any spot as the 
 ruined and deserted tenement of man ? 
 
 It was a lovelv day in October ; the sun was 
 bright, and the clouds, in those large masses indica- 
 tive of the season, were changing their grand and 
 fantastic forms as they sailed across the sky before 
 the fresh crisp breeze that rustled pleasantly among 
 the trees, whose yellow leaves fell in golden showers 
 to the brisker gusts of the wind. 
 
 A man with a dark brow, downcast eyes, and 
 heavy step, appeared on the edge of the hill that 
 looked over into the valley, and paused on the sum- 
 mit. His appearance was in startling contrast to the 
 scene around him ; for there was the brightness and 
 loveliness of earth, while he seemed overshadowed 
 by the dark and horrible passions of a nether world. 
 It was Regan, 
 
Rory 0' More 301 
 
 The second victory that Rory had gained over him 
 had deepened his hatred to our hero to a fearful 
 degree ; in fact, had he dared to strike the blow, 
 murder was not beyond him : but he had a coward 
 conscience that quailed at the promptings of his bad 
 heart. Still, however, he hatched minor projects of 
 revenge, and thus was he employed as he stood on 
 the acclivity above the valley. He was about to 
 plunge down the side of the hill that led into the 
 glen, when the faint tinkling of the chapel bell from 
 the adjacent village came fitfully upon the wind, and 
 the sound died away again. Regan stopped as if 
 spell-bound, and looked in the direction whence the 
 sound proceeded. The sound to him ^was as a 
 whisper to his conscience. Bad though he had 
 become, a regular attendance at mass was one of 
 the decencies of behaviour he had observed, and 
 to-day was the first time he had ever neglected the 
 duty. This may seem strange to the general reader, 
 but to those who know how scrupulously the Irish 
 peasantry attend public worship, it will not be deemed 
 singular. Again the sound floated by him on the 
 breeze ; and there he stood listening to the bell as 
 it sounded on his ear at intervals, with the shades 
 of contending emotion passing across his counte- 
 nance, and seemingly in a state of utter indecision, 
 when a tap on the shoulder aroused him from his 
 trance, and looking round, he saw the sharp eyes 
 and sinister expression of old Solomon the tinker 
 fastened upon him. 
 
 " How many grains goes to a bushel o' whate ? " 
 asked Solomon. 
 
 " What do you mane ? " replied Regan. 
 
 " Can't you tell me ? " replied the tinker. 
 
 " How should I know ? " said Regan sullenly. 
 
 " Why, you appeared to be in sitch a deep study, 
 
302 Rory O'More 
 
 that I thought you wor makin' the calculation," said 
 Solomon dryly. 
 
 " Oh, thin I was n't," said Regan with a long- 
 drawn and heavy sigh : " I was sthrivin' to remem- 
 ber something I forgot." 
 
 Again the chime of the bell visited his ear, and 
 Regan's look involuntarily answered the sound. 
 The tinker fastened his keen eye on him, and guess- 
 ing at Regan's startled conscience, he read his 
 thoughts in an instant, and with a backward twitch 
 of his shrivelled thumb over his shoulder towards 
 the village, he said, " Forgot ! I suppose you for- 
 got to go to mass ! ho, ho, ho ! What a loss you 
 are to the flock this day ! what '11 Father Kinshela 
 do without you ? " 
 
 " None o' your humbuggin', Sol.," said Regan. 
 
 "Is it me humbug?" said the tinker with a sneer, 
 as if rejoicing in the power he affected to disclaim. 
 " Come along, man ; we 're late enough. Nevei 
 mind chapel to-day ; the chapel will wait till next 
 Sunday. Don't you know what Punch said ? 
 
 I Divil may care,' says Punch when he lost mass ; 
 
 I 1 '11 be in time for church.' ' And so saying, the 
 tinker led the way to the valley, and Regan followed 
 in silence. 
 
 Within the vaults of the Folly the smugglers were 
 assembled for some time, and were sitting round 
 a rude table formed of three or four planks laid 
 across a couple of large stones, whereon some grey- 
 beards filled with brandy stood, one of which was 
 making the circle of the board, and lowering fast in 
 spirits while it raised those of the company. Stand- 
 ing beside a large pot which was suspended over a turf 
 fire appeared De Welskein, who was busy in cook- 
 ing the contents of the cauldron, and amongst his 
 various avocations it will not be wondered at that 
 
Rory O'More 303 
 
 a Frenchman enjoyed the mysteries of the cuisine ; 
 but at the same time, while he attended to his culi- 
 nary cares, he took his share of the conversation 
 and the brandy also. 
 
 u Monsieur Reggan not coame yait ? " said De 
 Welskein. " He go to shappel, I soopose ha, ha ! 
 G d d n fool ! no philosophe, too fond of prieste. 
 What good for prieste ? for nussing, bote demself 
 to kesh ten peegs." 
 
 " It 's not the priest, but the parson gets the pigs," 
 said one of his companions. 
 
 " All de sem ! " said De Welskein contemptuously, 
 " all de sem ! one prieste sem as nudder prieste 
 all homebogue : prettee feeshe in a keettel." 
 
 " A kittle o' fish, you mane, I suppose." 
 
 " Yais keettel feesh das it." 
 
 Regan and Solomon now made their appearance, 
 and were questioned as to the cause of their delay, 
 for they were the last of the party. 
 
 " Me know ver well wisout ax," said De Wel- 
 skein. " Meester Solsodderman," which was his 
 version of Sawdering Solomon, " he not like to laif 
 de 'ouse vere he sleep las nise visows his brekfas dees 
 morneeng ha, ha ! " 
 
 " Small blame to me ! " said Solomon, while the 
 others laughed at this touch of De Welskein's knowl- 
 edge of Solomon's character. 
 
 " And for Monsieur Reggan," said the smuggler, 
 " he go to shappel and coos not come before." 
 
 " No, I did n't go to shappel" answered Regan. 
 
 " He was only thinkin' of it," said Solomon. 
 
 " Ah ! you never love liberts while you love de 
 prieste." 
 
 " Maybe he thinks it 's betther be off with the 
 owld love before he 's on with the new," said 
 Solomon. 
 
304 Rory 0' More 
 
 " Vous avez rahon" said the Frenchman triumph- 
 antly ; " ofF wid dem, off wid dem all, prieste and 
 prance ! Bote coame sect down ; time for see 
 vaut to do wis Mister Collectere. Here, Darbee," 
 said he to a red-haired ruffian who was near the fire, 
 " here ! you wash dis paut wile me mek com- 
 eetay of poobleek sefty." 
 
 De Welskein handed his ladle to Darby, and 
 joined the council, who were already muttering 
 amongst each other their notions of what was the 
 best means of silencing the collector. 
 
 " We must get rid of him somehow," said 
 Regan. 
 
 " Sartinly," said a fellow called Jack Elannerty. 
 
 " But what 's the best way of doin' it ? " asked a 
 third. 
 
 " Send him over the say in munseer's ship," said a 
 fourth. 
 
 " Ver good," said De Welskein. " He may spik 
 mosh as he like in France ! ha, ha ! safe 'nuff 
 dere ! " 
 
 u Give him a dog's knock at wanst ! " said Jack 
 Flannerty. 
 
 " Dead men tell no tales," said Solomon senten- 
 tiously, and with a diabolical expression about his eyes 
 and mouth : and immediately after, addressing the 
 man who was in charge of the boiling pot, whose 
 attention had been attracted by the last proposition, 
 he said, " Darby avic ! mind the pot, or our dinner 
 will be spylte." 
 
 " Wash de paut, I tell you." 
 
 " Darby 's no great cook," said Solomon : " but you 
 know the owld saying God sends mate, but the 
 divil sends cooks." 
 
 " By gar, den, me send Darbee back to him." 
 
 " Afther you is manners, sir," said Darby. 
 
Rory O'More 305 
 
 "But," said Flannerty, "what do yiz say to 
 knockin' out his brains ? " 
 
 " How do you know he has any ? " said Solomon. 
 
 " He has enough to hang Darby Daly, any how." 
 
 "I don't like murdher," said Regan. 
 
 " Don't you ? " said Flannerty, looking at him 
 contemptuously. " Do you think he 'd hant you ? " 
 
 " Maybe you would n't like to see a ghost your- 
 self," said Regan, who was not pleased with the tone 
 of Flannerty's address. 
 
 " Bah ! nonstence ! " exclaimed De Welskein. 
 
 " Dead men tell no tales," croaked Solomon again. 
 
 ' D 
 
 " Ay, but murdher spakes out," said Regan : " it 's 
 always discovered one way or the other." This was 
 the true cause of Regan's objection to the measure. 
 
 " Would n't sendin' him over the say do as well ? " 
 said the former proposer of that measure. 
 
 " I think it would," said Regan : " and if you 'd 
 take my advice, I know another you 'd send along 
 wid him." 
 
 " Who ? " was asked by all. 
 
 " A black thraitor that '11 hang every man of us, if 
 we don't take care." 
 
 " Is it Rory O'More you mane ? " said one. 
 
 " How aisy you hit it," said Regan, " without my 
 tellin' you ? it 's a sign there 's thruth in it." 
 
 " Settle one thing at a time," said Flannerty. " I 
 know you hate Rory ; but that 's no rayson you 're 
 to disturb us with it always. Settle about Scrubbs 
 first." 
 
 " Bon," said the Frenchman. And it was soon 
 decided by the majority of opinions that to transport 
 the collector was the safest course to pursue ; and 
 that being agreed upon, it next became matter of 
 consideration how he was to be secured. 
 
 In the midst of this consultation De Welskein 
 
3o6 Rory O'More 
 
 kept a sharp eye to the fire, to see if Darby was 
 minding his business. He caught him still attend- 
 ing more to the matter in debate than the cooking. 
 " Bete / vill you mind de paut ? or, by gar, you let 
 'im run over de way." 
 
 " By my sow!, it could n't do that if it had twice 
 as many legs," said Darby 
 
 " Mr. New Jane," said Solomon to De Welskein, 
 whose name of Eugene was thus Hibernicised, "will 
 you take the collecther wid you, thin ? " 
 
 " Certanlee ! you kesh him for me, and me mek 
 gentilman of 'im tek 'im too traavel." 
 
 " The pot is busy bilin'," said Darby, who wished 
 his guard over the culinary department to be ended. 
 
 " Well don't let it run over the way, avic" said 
 Solomon, quizzing De Welskein. 
 
 To the low laugh that followed, the Frenchman 
 replied, u Vieux cbaudronnier de -campagne, you mek 
 ghem auf me old rog ! Sacr'e ! tek care you get no 
 dinnaire, mebbee, how you lik dat ? ha, ha ! " 
 
 De Welskein now resumed his culinary cares, and 
 the dinner was pronounced ready for discussion. No 
 time was lost in lifting the pot from the fire; and in 
 a few minutes the dinner was placed on the board, 
 and all were preparing to make a vigorous attack 
 upon it, when Solomon said in a tone of mockery, 
 " Oh, you haythens ! why thin would you begin to 
 ate without say in' grace ? " and he arose as if to give 
 a benediction. 
 
 " Sacr'e nom de diable ! " said the Frenchman ; 
 " vaut you do, you old fool ? " 
 
 " I 'm goin' to say grace," said Solomon, winking 
 at the rest of the party ; and raising his eyes, with a 
 sanctimonious air, he said in mock solemnity, 
 
 *' One word 's as good as ten ; 
 Leather away, amen! " 
 
Rory O'More 307 
 
 The Frenchman joined in the laugh that Solomon's 
 old and brutal joke produced, and exclaimed, " Old 
 homebogue ! sacre chaudronnter de campagne! " as he 
 attacked his own stew, which was not long in being 
 demolished, and the table was soon clear of every 
 thing but the brandy-bottle, which still continued to 
 make its rounds. 
 
 "And now, this bein' Sunday," said the tinker, "I 
 brought the good books wid me for our edification : " 
 and he pulled from his pocket a greasy pack of cards, 
 whose rounded corners and nearly obliterated faces 
 bore testimony to the many contests in which they 
 had been engaged. 
 
 This movement of Solomon's was received with 
 welcome by the whole party, and a game was im- 
 mediately called for. The game they played was 
 one which has long been a favourite in Ireland, and 
 still continues to be -so amongst the peasantry. It is 
 called " five and ten " when played between two 
 persons, or four engaged as partners ; but when a 
 larger number is enlisted, it is called " spoil five," 
 and a poule is played for. The same cards are in- 
 fluential in both games, though a totally different play 
 is required in one from the other; for in the former, 
 the object is to win as many tricks as you can, while 
 in the latter your own hand, if not sufficiently strong 
 to secure triumph, is always sacrified to the common 
 good of " spoiling " the endeavours of a more fortu- 
 nate holder of cards, and thereby increasing the poule : 
 hence its name of " spoil five." But in either form, 
 this game is a great favourite with the peasantry, and 
 is played by them with considerable skill : there is a re- 
 mote resemblance between it and ecart'e, which is much 
 the inferior game of the two, and though " spoil five " 
 does not bear the stamp of fashion, it requires more 
 acuteness in playing than many other games I have seen. 
 
308 Rory 0" More 
 
 " Sol., the dale is yours, it 's only fair, since you 
 brought the cards, my boy," said Flannerty ; " so let 
 us see who '11 play. We 're too many for c five and 
 ten,' so we must have the ' spoil five.' There 's too 
 many of us for that same to play all at wanst ; but 
 we must begin any how, and we can change hands 
 by turns. Come there's Solomon, and myself, 
 and " 
 
 " And the munseer, of coorse," said Regan. 
 
 This proposition was not relished by the company, 
 evidently ; for the Frenchman's adroitness with the 
 pack was no secret to them, and they, very naturally, 
 did not wish to engage with such an adversary ; 
 though no one liked to speak out his objection ; and 
 the foreigner with great readiness, at once interposed 
 his own denial to such a proposal. 
 
 " No, no, muss not play cars do for me what- 
 ever he please me so my honner is not satisfy; for 
 dough you know parfaitement I woos not play my 
 treeck wis my frens, for dat all de same my honner 
 woos not be happy." 
 
 11 We 're much obleeged to your honour," said 
 Flannerty : " to be sure, we know you 're a gintleman 
 every inch o' you." 
 
 " Oui ! out ! " said the Frenchman proudly. 
 
 " Sure enough, 'faith," said Flannerty, u it is ice 
 that are the rale gintlemen, for we have little work 
 and a grate dale o' pleasure. But come, make up the 
 the game." This was soon done, and they com- 
 menced play with much spirit. 
 
 Now, the Frenchman in relinquishing a part in the 
 game served two purposes. In the first place, it gave 
 his companions the notion that his own sense of 
 propriety forbade his engaging in it ; and in the next, 
 it left him at liberty to go round the board and see all 
 the hands, and then communicate by concerted signal 
 
Rory 0" More 309 
 
 the best play to Solomon, who was his confederate in 
 his system of plunder on their associates ; the old say- 
 ing of " honour among thieves " holding as good in 
 this instance as in most others. 
 
 On went the game. Whenever Solomon held a 
 hand of sufficient force to need no aid, the French- 
 man kept beyond reach of the gamesters, the better 
 to screen his purpose ; and whenever the tinker's 
 cards were so weak as to render finesse of no avail, 
 he would stand behind him and say as some card was 
 played, " Ha ! dat is not goot." 
 
 " How do you know ? " the tinker would cry in 
 affected displeasure. 
 
 " Me know ver well." 
 
 " Not you in throth go tache your mammy to 
 milk ducks ! I know more o' 4 spoil five ' than all the 
 Frinchmen that ever was born. Play ! " said he to 
 his fellow-gamesters. " Hillo ! the five fingers ! by 
 dad I 'm done ! Well, the game 's spylte, any how. 
 Dale, Regan." 
 
 The cards were distributed again, and Solomon 
 having the ace of trumps, put out a weak card from 
 his hand to take in the trump card in its place, saying, 
 as is customary, " I rob." 
 
 11 By my sowl, you have been doin' that ever since 
 we sat down a'most ! " said Flannerty. " I dunna 
 how you conthrive to win so often ! 
 
 " When you play as long as I have played, ma 
 bouchal, you '11 not wondher," said Solomon, very 
 quietly taking the turned-up trump card from its place 
 on the pack. " That 's nothing to what I can do. 
 Give me a dhrop o' brandy, munseer, as you 're 
 idle." 
 
 The Frenchman handed him the bottle, saying at 
 the same time, " wat is dat you say abous nussing ? " 
 
 " I say that is nothing to what I can do," said Sol 
 
310 Rory O'More 
 
 omon, who put the bottle to his mouth and took a 
 copious swig. 
 
 " Ma foil every ting in dis world is nussing," said 
 the Frenchman "nussing at all." 
 
 " Oh, be aisy with your laming, munseer," said 
 Flannerty. 
 
 "Bote I say dat is true," repeated the Frenchman : 
 "all de univer is nussing." 
 
 11 And am I nothing? " asked Solomon. 
 
 " Nussing at all," said the Frenchman. 
 
 "And is this nothing ?" again he asked, holding 
 up the jar of brandy. 
 
 " Nussing at all : every ting is nussing." 
 
 The old tinker put the jar to his mouth, and finish- 
 ing the remaining spirit that was in it, he withdrew it 
 from his lips, saying, " Well, take nothing from noth- 
 ing, and nothing remains ; " and he held up the in- 
 verted bottle amid the laughter of his companions. 
 
 On went the game, and the laughing and the drink- 
 ing and the cheating, until a dead pause was produced 
 amongst the noisy group by a vivd flash of lightning, 
 followed by a loud peal of thunder, which suddenly 
 interrupted their revelry. The laugh was silenced, 
 the winning card upheld in the suspended hand of 
 the gamester, and the flask arrested in its progress 
 to the lips of the bacchanal ; looks of wonder tinged 
 with terror were exchanged amongst the listeners, 
 and while they were yet fear-bound, another flash 
 gleamed through a narrow grating which admitted a 
 small portion of light and air to the vault, and its 
 white and vivid glare made the dull red blaze of the 
 fire they sat near seem more lurid. The gang, to an 
 imaginative mind, might have seemed like a troop of 
 unholy spirits round a watchfire of the nether world. 
 
 41 God be good to me! " said Regan, dropping the 
 cards from his hand ; " did you ever see any thing 
 
Rory O'More 311 
 
 like that ! I '11 play no more it 's not good to play 
 on a Sunday ; " and he arose. 
 
 " Bah ! don't be fool," said the Frenchman, who 
 was the most unconcerned of the party, and who 
 assumed to be more unconcerned than he really was ; 
 u you no philosophe tonzer and loightening is nus- 
 sing but natture. You no frighten at de sun, and de 
 moon, and de star, which is natture as well as de 
 tonzer : you might as well be fright for de waiter 
 you drink as de tonzer." 
 
 Another tremendous peal silenced the babbling of 
 the Frenchman, who, when the lessening reverbera- 
 tions died away, said in a very altered tone, " Dere is 
 gret shange in de wedder." 
 
 Regan had ascended from the vault when he left 
 his game, and on gaining the ground story of the build- 
 ing and looking forth, he beheld a great change indeed 
 from the aspect the scene had worn when he descended 
 from the hill-top a short time before. One of those 
 sudden storms peculiar to the season had come on : 
 the heavens were dark, the forked lightning only dis- 
 pelling the gloom with terrific and momentary bright- 
 ness, the rain falling in that deluging profuseness 
 characteristic of such elementary commotion, and the 
 frolic stream that ran through the valley becoming a 
 raging torrent. He returned to his companions, and 
 had scarcely descended the ladder which led to the 
 vault, when a crash rang over the vaulted roof: there 
 was no mistaking the sound it was evident the 
 building had been struck by lightning, and every one 
 who yet held his cards flung them down and sprang 
 to his feet, and looks and exclamations of terror burst 
 from the gang. 
 
 " Let us lave the place," said Regan ; " it 's onlooky ." 
 
 " We 're safer here than any where else," said 
 Solomon, he and De Welskein being the only persons 
 VOL. u. 4 
 
312 Rory 'More 
 
 who retained their self-possession, though the withered 
 face of the old tinker was paler than ordinary. 
 
 " Ver true, mon ami" said the Frenchman : " come 
 come round de fire, and tek some brandee. Gret 
 shange in de wedder, by gar ! " 
 
 " I never seen sitch rain in all my days," said Re- 
 gan, who bore a particularly troubled aspect. " And 
 to think of sitch terrible thundher bein' so late in the 
 saison ! I always heer'd it was onlooky to play cards 
 on Sunday ; and I never missed mass before ! " 
 
 " Bah ! " said the Frenchman ; " mebbee you better 
 go to shappel now." 
 
 " I wish to the Lord I heer'd mass to-day ! " mut- 
 tered Regan, whose superstitious nature operated 
 powerfully upon him. 
 
 Another peal of thunder followed. 
 
 "You hear that^ don't you ? " said Solomon. 
 
 Regan marked himself with the sign of the cross, 
 and muttered the formula of blessing himself. " Is n't 
 it wondherful, sitch dhreadful claps o' thundher in 
 October ? " 
 
 "Not at all," said Solomon: "the heaviest thun- 
 dherstorm ever was in my memory fell on a Christmas 
 day." 
 
 " It 's rainin' as if heaven and earth was comin' 
 together," said Regan. 
 
 " Don't you be 'fraid of dat," said De Welskein ; 
 " de 'eaven and de ert stay were dey are ; tek 
 some brandee." 
 
 Some sods of turf were thrown upon the fire to in- 
 crease it, and the party stood round the hearth in 
 silence, awed by the increasing storm, and the fearful 
 glare of the lightning ; but instead of the fire showing 
 symptoms of reviving under the fuel cast upon it, a 
 low hissing sound gave warning it was assailed by 
 moisture, and in a few minutes the whole floor of the 
 
Rory O'More 313 
 
 vault was covered with water. The river had risen 
 to a fearful height, and a rapid flooding of the sub- 
 terranean apartment was the consequence. There 
 was no choice left now, and the party simultaneously 
 moved towards the ladder that led to the upper part 
 of the Folly : but a cry of horror burst from the lips 
 of the first man who gained the accustomed opening, 
 when he found it was completely blocked up by the 
 fallen masses of the building the lightning had smitten. 
 
 A scene of terror and confusion now arose, which 
 no language could describe. Even De Welskein, 
 though hitherto heeding not the elementary commo- 
 tion, was not proof against such solid evidence of it 
 as the tons of fallen masonry that choked the only 
 passage from the vault ; and Solomon shared the fear 
 in common with the rest. Regan was the most furi- 
 ous of the set ; and while the amount of terror which 
 the thunder excited only made him pray, the increase 
 of it, which the horrible fate that seemed to await 
 him produced, made him curse. 
 
 " May the divil resaive you, you owld villain ! ' 
 said he to Solomon; "what made you bring me here 
 at all? I was going to mass, only for you" 
 
 " Me bring you ! " said Solomon ; " no, you 
 chicken-hearted murdherer for you would be if 
 vou dar it was the bitther hate brought you here. 
 You kem to get Rory O'More out o' your sight-, 
 but you '11 get more wather than you like, yourself, 
 before him and hell's cure to you ! " 
 
 u G d d n ! why do you curse for ? " said De 
 Welskein, who now thought of trying to escape at the 
 grated window. 
 
 He induced them to come down the ladder, that he 
 might rear it against the aperture ; and having done 
 so, he ascended rapidly. But the grating was too 
 narrow to admit a man to pass, and too strong and 
 
314 Rory O'More 
 
 firm to be shaken in a hurry : in the mean time the 
 water was rising fast, the men being already knee-deep. 
 
 "Pull him down out o' that," said Regan; "and 
 Jet us get up the laddher agin to the door ! We '11 
 have room enough to stand up there, and not be 
 dhrownded like rats. Pull him down ! " 
 
 " Silence, poltron ! " said De Welskein. "You poor 
 cow's-heart ! G d d n ! let ladder 'lone ; lissen, all 
 you, lissen ! " 
 
 He desired that the stones on which the planks had 
 rested to form their dinner-table, and those which had 
 served for seats also, should be rolled over near the wall, 
 where, by piling them one on another, a foundation 
 would be formed on which to rest one end of a plank, 
 while the other extremity might be supported higher 
 up on the ladder; that thus they might be preserved 
 from drowning, while they could be at the same 
 time near the window, at which they could work al- 
 ternately with their knives till the iron grating was 
 loosened, and their egress effected. 
 
 This plan was immediately acted upon, though 
 terror still prevailed amongst them. Solomon was 
 one of the first to follow the Frenchman's advice ; 
 and as he approached the table of planks, he saw the 
 stakes of the deserted game lying untouched : even in 
 such a moment the ravening appetite for the coin 
 could not be repressed ; he pounced upon the money 
 and made it his own: daring to play the robber 
 even on the brink of eternity. Regan was the only 
 one who perceived him, and he had not courage 
 enough to speak out ; but in his heart he wondered at 
 and cursed the undaunted old miscreant. 
 
 The water continued to gain rapidly upon them, 
 and they had no time to spare in making the proposed 
 arrangement for their safety. When it was com- 
 pleted, there was a dispute who should occupy the 
 
Rory 0' More 315 
 
 highest point on the plank : and the terrible example 
 of selfishness and ruffianism exhibited, would only dis- 
 gust were it recorded. 
 
 It was an awful scene ! There were those whose 
 lives were in jeopardy to whom an unprepared call tc 
 a final account would have been fearful ; and ye': 
 amongst them there was less of prayers than curses., 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 DE LACY DEPARTS FOR FRANCE. RORY GIVES A 
 
 HINT FOR MAKING GOOD PUNCH ; AND SCRUBBS 
 PROVES THE FALLACY OF THE SAYING, THAT A 
 MAN FINDS HIS WARMEST WELCOME AT AN INN 
 
 THE same day that was appointed for the meeting 
 of the smugglers in the Folly was destined for 
 the departure of De Lacy from the cottage of Rory 
 O'More. 
 
 De Lacy had his misgivings whether it would be 
 safe for Rory to remain in the country after what 
 had happened, and feared that his ready and generous 
 conversion of the colonel's pass to his friend's safety, 
 might become the means of his being discovered by 
 the colonel and his party, and marked out for their 
 vengeance. This thought weighed heavily upon him, 
 and he expressed to Rory his fears upon the subject, 
 with an offer of making him the companion of his 
 voyage, and so securing his safety : but Rory refused 
 the offer with thankfulness for the kindness and con- 
 sideration by which it was prompted, and declared his 
 intention to remain. 
 
 " Sure, what would the mother and Mary do with- 
 out me ? " 
 
 This was his only, and (with him) unanswerable 
 argument against the measure ; so, in conclusion, it 
 was agreed that De Lacy should make his voyage 
 without the companionship of our hero. 
 
Rory O'More 317 
 
 " I '11 go with you to see you off, though," said 
 Rory. 
 
 " No, Rory," said De Lacy : " if you will not 
 bear me company altogether, you must not in part. 
 As you are determined on remaining behind, it would 
 be a still further presumptive evidence against you to 
 be absent even for a day or two from your home." 
 
 It was therefore agreed that a couple of horses 
 should be hired in Knockbracken, and Conolly, in- 
 stead of Rory, become De Lacy's guide to the coast. 
 Knockbracken happened to be the village on Regan's 
 side of the country ; for that in the neighbourhood of 
 O'More's was too insignificant to produce a horse for 
 hire. 
 
 The parting of De Lacy from the cottage was 
 painful to all parties, they did not know how much 
 so, until the moment came. The women cried, and 
 De Lacy was silent a kindly pressure of the hand 
 of the mother and daughter was the last parting testi- 
 monial of friendship he gave them ; and as he hurried 
 from the quiet little lane, the widow and Mary sent 
 after him many a fervent blessing. 
 
 Rory accompanied him as far as the point whence 
 he was to take horse, and they wended their way 
 thitherward in comparative silence. The approach 
 of the parting hour is saddening ; and the thoughts 
 which in happier moments we give to the tongue, the 
 heart refuses to part with then. 
 
 On reaching the hostel of the " Black Bull," the 
 nags of Larry Finnegan were put in requisition ; and 
 while Conolly went to assist in their preparation for 
 the road, De Lacy kept Rory for the few last words. 
 
 " Rory," said he, " the kindness I have met under 
 your mother's roof I can never forget, and your cour- 
 age and conduct have been beyond all praise." 
 
 " Don't mintion it, if you plaze, Mr. De Lacy." 
 
3i8 Rory O'More 
 
 " I should be ungrateful if I did not," said De 
 Lacy. " Now, your mother, Rory, would not permit 
 me to make her any acknowledgment ; but 
 
 " Murdher, murdher ! don't disthress me ! " said 
 Rory. 
 
 " Listen to me, Rory," said De Lacy. " Though 
 your mother has refused any thing in the shape of 
 remuneration you, I hope " 
 
 " Is it me ! " said Rory. 
 
 " Now, do listen to me ! " said De Lacy. " Surely 
 you won't refuse some trifling gift from your parting 
 friend as a keepsake ? " 
 
 " Oh ! a keepsake," said Rory, " is another affair." 
 
 " That 's a good fellow ! " said De Lacy. " Here, 
 then take this, and keep it for my sake," and he 
 drew forth a gold watch. 
 
 Rory kept looking at the watch and De Lacy al- 
 ternately in wonder, and at last said, 
 
 " Oh, something less costly than that, if you plaze, 
 Mr. De Lacy : sure, that 's worth a handful o' guineas. 
 And thin, what 's more, sure I 've no use for a watch ; 
 there 's the blessed sun that rises and sets evermore ; 
 and if I want to know the time o' day, I 've only to 
 cock up my eye at him, and I can tell it a'most as 
 well as if he was a clock beggin' his pardon for 
 comparin' him to the like but all as one, I mane, 
 in the regard of the hour." 
 
 " But, Rory, it is not for use, but as a keepsake, I 
 wish you to take it." 
 
 " Sure, any thing else will do as well for a keep- 
 sake; give me that switch out o' your hand, and I '11 
 value it as much as all the watches ever was made." 
 
 " That 's too insignificant, Rory indeed it is : 
 think of something else." 
 
 " Well, then, sir, since you desire me to say the 
 thing myself and will have it so, there 's your sleeve- 
 
Rory O'More 319 
 
 buttons; and if you give thim to me, it is proud I'll 
 be to wear the same things on me that you yourself 
 wore." 
 
 " There," said De Lacy, taking them from his 
 wrist " and I only regret they are so worthless a 
 gift." 
 
 "Ah, sir! it is the giver, and not the gift, I think 
 of," said Rory. 
 
 Conolly now led forth the horses saddled ; and 
 though neither the beasts nor their furniture were 
 much to be admired, De Lacy was assured the rough 
 hacks would do him good service : so, mounting into 
 a very old high-pommelled saddle, he once more 
 shook hands with Rory, and bidding him an affection- 
 ate farewell, with the hope of a speedy and trium- 
 phant return, he took the road towards the coast and 
 was soon beyond the village. 
 
 Rory then went to chapel ; and thoughts of the 
 expedition and hopes for his country mingled with 
 his devotions, and a prayer for the safety of the friend 
 from whom he had just parted, rose sincerely from 
 his heart. Mass being over, he returned to the 
 " Black Bull," where the host, Larry Finnegan, was 
 serving his customers with tobacco and drink. 
 
 " I 'm come to ax you for something, Larry," said 
 Rory. 
 
 " And you shall have it with pleasure, my buck," 
 said Larry. " What would you like ? I 've a fresh 
 tap here, and it 's iligant." 
 
 " Nothing in that way, Larry, to-day ; but I jist 
 came to see if you 're done with the crow-bar I lint 
 you some time agon, as I 'm in want of it myself to 
 quarry some stones to-morrow." 
 
 " Yis ; there it is, standin' over in the corner 
 beyant the hob in the kitchen forninst you : I 'm 
 done wid it, many thanks to you!" 
 
320 Rory O'More 
 
 " Why, thin, what would you want wid a crow- 
 bar, Finnegan ? " said one of his customers. 
 
 " Oh, it 's the misthiss you should ax about that ? " 
 said Roiy. 
 
 " Why, is it for batin' her he got it ? " 
 
 " No," said Finnegan. " It 's a flail I have for 
 that." 
 
 " It is Misthiss Finnegan that wants it," said Rory; 
 " and I wondher you never heer'd the rayson." 
 
 " Why, thin, what is it, Rory, my boy ? I '11 be 
 bound it 's a quare one you '11 give, any how." 
 
 " You see," said Rory, " she makes the punch so 
 sthrong, that she bent all her spoons sthrivin' to stir 
 it ; and so she borrowed the crow-bar." 
 
 " Long life to you, Rory, your sowl ! " said 
 Finnegan, who relished this indirect compliment to 
 the character of his establishment. " Divil be from 
 me, but you won't lave the house this day without 
 takin' a tumbler with the misthiss, afther that ! and 
 she shall mix it herself for you and with the crow- 
 bar, my boy ! " 
 
 Rory would not refuse the hospitality offered, so, 
 entering the kitchen, he sat by the fire; and Mrs. 
 Finnegan endeavoured to support the character he 
 had given her, by brewing one of her best, and she 
 returned to the kitchen in smiles to present to Rory 
 a " screeching " tumbler of punch. 
 
 While he was sitting there, chatting, and sipping 
 his beverage, the storm noticed in the foregoing 
 chapter began to threaten, and soon burst in all its 
 violence over the village. The women blessed them- 
 selves; and the mirth and noise of the public-house 
 sank before the peals of thunder which rolled above 
 them. Rory, remembering he had some miles to 
 walk before he should reach his home, went to the 
 door to look out, and judge if the storm seemed buf 
 
Rory O'More 321 
 
 a sudden burst, or threatened a longer duration ; and 
 in the angry aspect of the skies he saw nothing but 
 the alternative of a long wait in the village or a wet 
 skin before him. As he looked up the street, Scrubbs 
 was riding down the road at a furious pace to get 
 under shelter ; but before reaching the " Black Bull," 
 a vivid flash of lightning made his horse start violently, 
 and the suddenness of the action brought horse and 
 rider to the ground. 
 ' " God bless us ! " exclaimed Rory. 
 
 " What 's the matter ? " said some bystanders 
 within the house, who had not seen the occurrence. 
 
 " I b'lieve the collecther is kilt with a stroke o' 
 lightning ! " 
 
 A universal exclamation of" God bless us ! " echoed 
 Rory's first ejaculation, and the people crowded to 
 the door to look out. 
 
 Scrubbs, who was only stunned by the fall, now 
 made an effort to rise ; and Rory in a moment ran to 
 his assistance and was by his side. 
 
 " You 're not kilt ? " said Rory. 
 
 " No," said Scrubbs. 
 
 " Are you scorched itself ? " 
 
 The fall of Scrubbs rendered him as yet uncon- 
 scious of the meaning of the question. 
 
 " By dad ! " said Rory, " I thought you wor kilt 
 with the lightning ! Come into the house out o' the 
 rain." And so saying, he led Scrubbs to the " Black 
 Bull." 
 
 Some went to the assistance of the horse, but it 
 was found the animal had slipped its shoulder and 
 could not rise without help. This being afforded, 
 the poor brute limped along to the stable of the 
 hostel. 
 
 After a few minutes the collector was quite recov- 
 ered, having escaped with a few bruises ; and his own 
 
322 Rory 0' More 
 
 safety left him at liberty to lament over the mishap 
 of his steed, to whose stable he repaired, exclaiming 
 as he went, " It 's very unfortunate ! " 
 
 " 'Faith, it is unfortunate," said Finnegan, " that 
 your neck was n't bruk ! I 'd like to dhrink at your 
 wake." 
 
 " Oh, God forgive you, Larry ! " said the wife ; 
 " why would you be wishin' the man's death ? " 
 
 " Bekase there would be a blackguard the less in 
 the world: sure, he got me fined, come Candlemas 
 next a year; and you know it." 
 
 " Throth, he 's a dirty blackguard, I know," said 
 the polite Mrs. Finnegan: "so lave him to God." 
 
 "To the divil, you mane," said Finnegan. 
 
 "Thrue for you, by my sowl, Larry," said some 
 of the bystanders, who all hated Scrubbs most 
 cordially. 
 
 "I wondher he didn't keep a tight hand over the 
 baste ! " said one. 
 
 " Faix, so do I!" said another; "for he keeps a 
 mighty tight hand over every body else." 
 
 "Sure enough," said a third, " it 's he that's the 
 rale grinder." 
 
 "Whisht! here he comes back, bad cess to him !" 
 said the former speaker, as Scrubbs re-entered the 
 house. 
 
 But the man who dubbed him a grinder, though he 
 did not speak the word, continued to sing the nick- 
 name in the collector's face ; and he hummed to a 
 lilting tune, 
 
 "Tarry, heigh-ho! 
 
 You know 
 Tarry, heigh-ho! 
 
 and a low laugh and furtive glances exchanged among 
 the peasants, made Scrubbs feel very uncomfortable, 
 for he suspected they bore som,e allusion to himself. 
 
Rory O'More 323 
 
 There was not one voice to express sorrow for his 
 accident, nor congratulation upon his escape, 30 dis- 
 liked had he made himself in the country ; and but 
 for Rory O'iMore, whose generous heart was open to 
 the distress even of a foe, he would not have had 
 a single being to do him a service. 
 
 Scrubbs wished to push homewards, and asked 
 Finnegan to let him have a horse on hire. 
 
 " I have n't one," said Finnegan. 
 
 "You've two, you mean," said Scrubbs. 
 
 " They 're both engaged," said the landlord. 
 
 "I'll pay you whatever you ask," said Scrubbs. 
 
 "I tell you, I haven't thim," said Finnegan, gruffly; 
 and he added in an under tone, " and if I had, you 
 shouldn't have thim." 
 
 " Do you mean they are both engaged ? " said 
 Scrubbs. 
 
 "Yis," was the short answer. 
 
 The storm continued to rage on. The public- 
 house, whose noisy mirth was quelled by its outbreak, 
 seemed to have gathered an additional gloom from the 
 presence of the collector. One by one the customers 
 of the " Black Bull " dropped off: those who lived in 
 the village, first, who could make a run through the 
 storm to their homes; those in the vicinity, next; 
 and, at last, when there seemed no chance of its 
 abatement, even they whose homes were more distant 
 seemed to think there was no use in longer tarrying, 
 and so, wrapping their frieze-coats round them, bury- 
 ing their faces in their collars, and pulling their cau- 
 beens tightly over their eyes, they one by one made 
 for the door, and balancing themselves for a moment 
 on the threshold between a wait or a wetting, they 
 butted with their heads against the wind, and "pelted " 
 away through the storm. 
 
 Rory and Scrubbs were the only guests left within 
 
324 Rory O'More 
 
 the walls of the " Black Bull," and Rory seemed, at 
 last, inclined to follow the example of those who 
 departed. On expressing this intention, Scrubbs 
 manifested great uneasiness, for he did not like re- 
 maining alone in the public-house, whose landlord he 
 had mulcted in a fine on some trivial pretext ; and the 
 savage manner of the man, added to the conscious- 
 ness of the cause he had given him for dislike, made 
 Scrubbs loath to become a solitary lodger in the 
 deserted inn. 
 
 When he found Rory determined to go, and that 
 his way was homewards, he expressed a desire to 
 accompany him, for their road lay together, and it 
 was matter of great importance to the collector to 
 have a companion, for to travel the country alone 
 on foot was what he dreaded too much to venture 
 upon, and considered even more hazardous than 
 remaining where he was. 
 
 A few days before he would not have chosen Rory 
 for a companion ; but the circumstances of the in- 
 tended arrest of De Lacy had mystified him, and 
 made him imagine that perhaps Rory was not the 
 dangerous person he had taken him for ; and at all 
 events, under existing circumstances, he could not 
 but be glad of his convoy : so, declaring himself ready 
 to face the road on foot with our hero, and thanking 
 Finnegan, whose care of his horse's shoulder he urged, 
 Rory said, u Good-b'ye ! " to the landlord of the 
 u Black Bull " and his punch-making wife, and, not 
 forgetting his crow-bar, sallied forth from the snug 
 shelter of the warm hostel to buffet the chilling storm 
 which still raged with unmitigated fury. 
 
 They proceeded in silence until they passed the 
 skirts of the village ; when Rory, turning from the 
 high-road, struck into a path through the fields that 
 lay beside it. 
 
Rory O'More 325 
 
 " Where are you going, O'More ? " said the 
 collector. 
 
 " A short cut," said Rory. 
 
 " Don't go through the fields," said Scrubbs : " the 
 road is safer." 
 
 " Why, what danger do you dhread in the fields ? " 
 said Rory. 
 
 " Only, the road is safer ; the fields are so lonely," 
 said the collector. 
 
 " Maybe you 're afeerd o' me, Misther Scrubbs ? " 
 said Rory. 
 
 " No, no, my dear O'More ! " 
 
 " Bekaze you may go back to the 4 Black Bull ' if 
 you are. I did n't ax your company ; and high-road 
 or bye-road is all one to me." 
 
 u Now, O'More, I beg your pardon, don't be 
 offended but indeed these bye-paths " 
 
 " Arrah, don't be so frightful ! " said Rory, with a 
 tone of contempt in his voice, which he could not 
 control at this exhibition of poltroonery : " it 's a short 
 cut of full two miles to quit the road here and head 
 up the banks of the sthream through the glin of the 
 Folly." 
 
 " Bless my soul ! " said Scrubbs, laying his hand 
 on Rory's arm and making a dead stand; "surely 
 you 're not going through that horrid lonely place ! " 
 
 " In throth I am," said Rory ; " and if you don't 
 like to come, as I said before, you may go back." 
 
 Scrubbs was in a painful state of doubt ; he could 
 not tell which he dreaded most the Folly or Fin- 
 negan ; and thus goaded by the horns of the dilemma, 
 or rather of the " Black Bull," he ventured to go 
 forward with Rory. After getting over about half a 
 mile of broken ground, they topped the hill that com- 
 manded the glen of the Folly ; and when Scrubbs 
 saw the state of swollen turbulence in which the 
 
326 Rory 0' More 
 
 stream swept down the valley, he asked O'More, in 
 one of his coward tones, if he would venture to 
 approach it. 
 
 " Sure, it won't bite you," said Rory. 
 
 " But it might drown you," said Scrubbs. 
 
 " Thim that 's born for hangin' was never meant 
 for dhrownin'," said Rory, in a questionable tone. 
 
 " You say very odd things, O'More," said Scrubbs, 
 who could not fathom whether Rory meant him- 
 self or the collector in his last speech. " But is 
 n't the valley dangerous with this dreadful flood in 
 it ? " 
 
 " Faix, there will be worse than the flood in it 
 when you and I are there ! " said Rory, whose con- 
 tempt for the collector's pusillanimity had so increased, 
 that he deemed it fit subject for mirth, and did not 
 hesitate to torment the paltry coward with an am- 
 biguity of expression which left, in the vagueness of 
 the allusion, the application of it open to either of 
 them ; so that he might endure either offence or fear, 
 as the case might be. 
 
 " Are you sure it 's safe ? " said Scrubbs. 
 
 " It 's safe enough for me any how," said Rory : 
 " I don't know if you be a dangerous person." 
 
 " How do you mean, dangerous ? " said Scrubbs. 
 
 " Likely for hurt or harm," said Rory. 
 
 " I hope not, O'More," said the collector, straining 
 to keep up with Rory's vigorous pace as he dashed 
 into the glen ; and as they approached the stream, he 
 again asked his guide if he did not consider the valley 
 impassable without much risk. 
 
 " Not in the laste," said Rory : " it 's over an hour 
 yet before the pass up the valley will be flooded." 
 So saying, he pressed on, and was drawing near the 
 walls of the Folly, when he suddenly stopped and 
 said to Scrubbs, " Did n't you hear a shout ? " 
 
Rory O'More 327 
 
 " Where ? " said the collector, getting as close to 
 him as he could. 
 
 "I thought I heerd a halloo," said Rory : " listen ! " 
 A burst of thunder followed : the collector shuddered. 
 
 " I suppose 't was only the storm," said Rory. 
 " Let us push on ; " and he made a few more vigor- 
 ous strides, when his course was again arrested by a 
 loud shout which was audible in one of the lapses of 
 the tempest, and this time even Scrubbs heard it. 
 
 The shout proceeded from the grated window of 
 the vault where De Welskein and his companions 
 were imprisoned. They, seeing two men in the 
 valley, had raised their combined voices in one wild 
 chorus of despair, to attract their attention ; and 
 observing the successful result of their first effort, 
 they again essayed to arrest their observation in the 
 same manner : and when the men paused the second 
 time, De Welskein took his handkerchief from his 
 neck, and waving it through the bars of his dungeon 
 as a further means of attracting notice, a third 
 tremendous yell issued from the inundated vault. 
 
 " Look, look ! " said Rory, pointing to the hand- 
 kerchief he saw waving from the Folly ; " some one 
 is callin' for help there ! " and he was going for- 
 ward to the spot, when Scrubbs laid his hand upon 
 him, and said, " You would n't be mad enough 
 to go ! " 
 
 " Why not ? " said Rory. 
 
 " You don't know who may be there." 
 
 "What is it to me who they are? they waet 
 help," said Rory, " and that 's enough." 
 
 "Let me beg of you, O'More! " said Scrubbs, en- 
 deavouring to detain him. 
 
 Rory shook him off, and said very decidedly, " Mr. 
 Scrubbs, if you 're afeard, that 's no raison 7 should be ; 
 and if you 'd lave a fellow-craythur in want o' help, 
 VOL. ii. 5 
 
328 Rory O'More 
 
 God forbid I 'd do the like ! There 's some accident 
 there beyant, and I '11 go see if I can be of any use." 
 
 With these words Rory ran towards the Folly ; and 
 Scrubbs followed, because he was afraid to remain 
 alone. On approaching sufficiently close to recognise 
 persons, the wonder was mutual between those within 
 and those without the vault at the rencounter. 
 
 " Murdher ! is it you, Mr. Divilskin ! " said Rory. 
 " Why, thin, what brought you there at all ? " 
 
 It would be vain to attempt to describe the confused 
 and almost unintelligible conversation that ensued : it 
 was rather a volley of vociferation on both sides, 
 the Frenchman shouting, " Ouvrez vite ! " while the 
 other prisoners were exclaiming, " Rory, for the love 
 o' God, make haste, or we '11 be dhrownded ! " 
 
 " Wait a minit, and I '11 settle the business for 
 you," said Rory. " Sure, and was n't it the hoighth 
 o' good luck I happened to have the crow-bar with 
 me ! " And as he spoke, he put the powerful imple- 
 ment between the bars of the grated window, and 
 wrenched the rusted irons from their sockets ; then, 
 giving a hand to De Welskein, he assisted him in his 
 egress through the newly-made opening ; and in a few 
 seconds the whole party, so lately incarcerated in a 
 dangerous dungeon, were liberated even by the very 
 man against whose safety one of their party had en- 
 deavoured to direct their vengeance ! And now a 
 terrible example was given of the facility with which 
 past mercies are forgotten, and of the hardness of the 
 human heart when brutalised by vice : these very 
 men, rescued from a perilous position, and perhaps a 
 horrible death, the moment they were released gave 
 way to their vengeful feelings, and thought not of ex- 
 tending to a fellow-creature the mercy that Heaven 
 had shown towards them. 
 
 Flannerty and Regan were the first to notice, with 
 
329 
 
 triumph, the presence of Scrubbs, and they pointed it 
 out to the party with an exclamation of blasphemous 
 rejoicing. 
 
 " By the holy, we 're in luck afther all ; for there 
 he is, the very chap we were waitin' for ! " 
 
 They pointed to Scrubbs as they spoke ; and he, 
 whose fears were sufficiently awake before, now 
 pressed close beside Rory, who could feel his tremor 
 as he leaned for support against him. The meaning 
 of the desperadoes was too evident to be mistaken, 
 it was manifest their menacing intentions were directed 
 against the collector ; but as Rory did not know their 
 motive for such a proceeding, he said firmly, "Why, 
 what do you want with him ? " 
 
 " We jist want to take a loan of him," said Jack 
 Flannerty, who advanced. 
 
 " See, Flannerty," said Rory, who extended his 
 arm as he spoke, in token of his desire to keep a dis- 
 tance between the parties, "Mr. Scrubbs was in 
 the village beyant, and his horse fell undher him ; and 
 bein' obleeged to walk home, he said he 'd go along 
 with me. When I was comin' this way by the short 
 cut, as you know it is towards my place, Mr. 
 Scrubbs asked me to go by the high-road ; but I 
 towld him this was the best way. Now, boys," said 
 he, appealing to the whole party, "you would n't like, 
 yourselves, if you promised to lade a man safe, that 
 he should come into throuble afther : and when I tell 
 yiz this, I 'm sure you '11 put no hurt nor harm on the 
 collecthor." 
 
 " By gor, if you go make a bellwether o' yourself 
 to sitch fellows as that over the counthry, it 's a busy 
 time you '11 have of it, my buck," answered Flannerty. 
 " Be aisy, and don't be howldin' your head so high." 
 
 " I howld my head no higher than any honest man 
 may howld it," said Rory : " and I say that the man 
 
330 Rory O'More 
 
 who has any honour in his heart would n't touch him 
 that 's beside me afther what I say." 
 
 " To the divil wid you and your honour ! " 
 shouted Regan. " Will your honour save Darby 
 Daly from bein' hanged when that vagabone swares 
 his life away ? and you wantin' to save the villain ! 
 but c birds of a feather flocks together.' ' 
 
 "You're a slandherous scoundhrel, Regan," cried 
 Rory, u and it 's not the first lie you said of me." 
 
 Regan was about to advance on O'More, who, 
 raising his crow-bar in the act of striking, exclaimed 
 fiercely, " Keep back, or by the mother that bore me 
 I '11 brain you ! " 
 
 Flannerty dragged back Regan and said, " I '11 tell 
 you what it is, Rory, the collecthor there is wanted, 
 and there 's no use in your makin' any bones about it, 
 for we are enough to have our will ; so do what we 
 plaze, or we '11 make you/' 
 
 " Don't betray me, O'More," cried Scrubbs. 
 
 " Bethray you ! " said Rory, looking with wither- 
 ing contempt on the craven beside him. " You 
 dirty hound, who would run afther my foot, to say 
 sitch a word to me afther what you 've heerd ! Boys, 
 let us pass ! " 
 
 " No, we won't," said Flannerty : " we '11 have 
 him ; " and he was advancing with some others. 
 
 " Boys ! " cried Rory in an appealing tone, " I 
 saved your lives five minutes ago, and all I ask is 
 that you '11 let us go quietly out o' this." 
 
 There was a shout of " No ! " from the group. 
 The trembling collector laid hold of Rory. 
 
 " Don't grip me that way, or I can't fight ! " said 
 Rory : " mind yourself, you 'd betther." Turning to 
 the group, he then added, " I towld you I considher 
 I 'm bound in honour to this man to see him safe, and 
 if you have n't the heart to feel it, more shame to 
 
Rory 0' More 331 
 
 you ! But if it goes to that, by the seven blessed 
 candles you '11 walk over my body before you get 
 him ! " And he threw himself into a posture of 
 defence, and, with the weapon he held, he was a for- 
 midable adversary. 
 
 u Did n't I tell yiz all he was a thraitor ! " said 
 Regan. " If he was n't, would he do what he 's 
 doin' ? Do you believe me now ? " 
 
 At the moment, and under the peculiar circum- 
 stances joined to foregone suspicions of Rory's 
 fidelity, the words of Regan were like sparks on gun- 
 powder : there was a shout from the group and a rush 
 on Rory, who felled two of his assailants to the 
 earth as they advanced upon him, while the wretched 
 Scrubbs struck not a blow in his own defence. 
 While Rory was keeping up an unequal fight against 
 numbers, his vindictive enemy Shan Dhu came be- 
 hind him, and giving him a severe blow under the 
 ear, for the first time had the satisfaction of seeing 
 Rory stagger beneath his stroke. In a moment 
 Rory was overpowered and secured ; and he and 
 Scrubbs, the latter of whom prayed in the most abject 
 manner for mercy, were dragged within the walls of 
 the Folly and their limbs secured by strong cords ; 
 for until this measure was put in practice, Rory con- 
 tinued to struggle for his liberty. 
 
 When he was rendered quite powerless, he and the 
 collector were placed in an upper apartment of the 
 ruin, with one man to keep watch over them ; while 
 the others remained on the ground story, to consult 
 what should be done with the prisoners. Jack Flan- 
 nerty still recommended " the dog's knock," and 
 Solomon chimed in his chorus of evil omen, that 
 " dead men tell no tales ; " but the majority dreaded 
 this extreme measure, and determined on sending 
 Scrubbs and Rory over sea. They were obliged, 
 
332 Rory 0' More 
 
 however, to wait until night should favour their 
 undertaking, as in the daylight to transport their 
 prisoners would be impossible. 
 
 While the council were consulting below, Rory 
 and the collector were engaged with their own 
 thoughts in the apartment above. Rory in his heart 
 cursed the unlucky chance that had thrown Scrubbs 
 in his way, as, to his company he very justly attrib- 
 uted his mishap ; and yet the generosity of his temper 
 forbade him to reproach the author of his misfortune 
 with being the cause of it, while he saw him trembling 
 for his safety, and heard the moans which escaped 
 from his pale and quivering lips. 
 
 As for Scrubbs, such was his grovelling nature, 
 that even after the noble conduct of Rory, he was 
 still suspicious of his having led him into the trap, 
 and that his resistance was only pretence ; and at 
 last, the base wretch ventured to give his filthy sus- 
 picion words. 
 
 "Oh, O'More," faltered he, "why did you be- 
 tray me into their hands ! " 
 
 " Is it to me you have the ingratitude to say the 
 word," said Rory, " afther my runnin' the risk o' my 
 life to save you ! " 
 
 "Oh, they won't hurt you, you know; but they '11 
 murder me ! " 
 
 " How do you know they won't hurt me ? There 's 
 thim among thim ready enough to belie and wrong 
 me; and my sthriving to save you has made me as 
 bad to thim in their eyes as yourself." 
 
 "Oh, they won't touch you you know they 
 won't; and speak to them for me, do, O'More!" 
 
 " I see the mane suspicions you have, Mr. Scrubbs ; 
 and in throth it 's a pity an honest man should get 
 into throuble on your account, for you 're not worth 
 it. You think I 'm cullogueing with these vagabones, 
 
Rory 0" More 333 
 
 and that I only purtinded to fight, and all that ; and 
 if you wor n't as bad yourself as to do the like, you 
 would n't suspect another of it. Get out wid you, 
 you mane-spirited dog ! Throth, your heart is a 
 dunghill, and suspicion is the cock that crows on 
 it!" 
 
 Notwithstanding all this abusive outbreak on Rory's 
 part, Scrubbs contrived to writhe himself over nearer 
 to him (for both men were bound hand and foot and 
 lying on the ground) ; and getting so close as to be 
 able to whisper to him, so that the sentinel over them 
 should not hear, he said, 
 
 " If you '11 get me out of their power, I '11 give you 
 a hundred pounds, and make a man of you." 
 
 " Keep your dirty bribes and thoughts to yourself, 
 if you plaze, I want neither of thim. Make a 
 man o' me indeed ! God made a man of me already, 
 and thanks be to him for it ! it 's more than he 
 done for you, you pitiful coward, who had n't the 
 heart even to sthrike a blow in your defence. Get 
 out ! and don't pison my ears with your nasty 
 thoughts." 
 
 Regan soon after entered the apartment, having 
 left the group below, when the consultation was over, 
 with the base desire of enjoying the sight of Rory's 
 prostration. He told the man on guard he came to 
 relieve his watch and take charge of the safety of the 
 prisoners ; and as soon as the other had descended he 
 approached O'More, and stood over him with malig- 
 nant enjoyment. Rory looked up at him and said, 
 " Shan Dhu, what 's this for ? " 
 
 " For thraitors," answered Regan. 
 
 " I 'm no thraitor," said Rory. 
 
 " You lie ! " growled the brute. 
 
 "If I wasn't tied as I am, you darn't say the 
 word to me," said Rory. 
 
334 Rory O'More 
 
 " Keep a civil tongue in your head, or it '11 be 
 worse for you," said Regan. 
 
 " You 're no man, Shan, or you would n't do 
 this ! " 
 
 " If you say another uncivil word, I '11 kick you 
 till I make you black, as a thraitorous dog ought to 
 be kicked." 
 
 " You 're a black-hearted coward ! " cried Rory, as 
 fiercely as if he were at liberty. 
 
 The savage who stood over him proved the truth 
 of the words by giving him a fierce kick on the side 
 with his heavy brogue, which took away his breath ; 
 and it was only the sound of ascending footsteps that 
 interrupted Regan in his brutality : he withdrew from 
 the prisoners to the door. 
 
 " You're wanted below," said the man who entered 
 the apartment which Regan quitted. 
 
 " O'More," said the collector, who was convinced 
 by the fierce reality of Regan's conduct that Rory 
 was in the hands of enemies as well as himself, u I 
 see I was wrong in what I thought about this affair." 
 
 " It 's likely to be worse with us too, I 'm afeard," 
 said Rory. 
 
 " Do you remember what you said when I asked 
 you if the valley was n't dangerous, when we came 
 into the glen ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " You said we should find something more danger- 
 ous than the flood in it. You spoke it in fun, 
 O'More : it has come true, to your sorrow." 
 
 " I found more than I bargained for, 'faith ! 
 But, now that you remind me of sayin' that, there 's 
 something else it puts me in mind of that I said also 
 and equally thrue, to our cost." 
 
 u What was that ? " asked the collector. 
 
 " I said, l thim that was born to be hanged would 
 
Rory O'More 335 
 
 never be dhrownded -, ' and sure enough, I saved the 
 vagabones from the dhrowndin' and 'pon my 
 sowl I 'm much mistaken if the gallows won't be 
 busy wid some o' thim yet ! " 
 
 " I tell you what it is, Rory O'More," said the 
 man who was keeping guard over them " divil a 
 much harm I wish you, and maybe there 's not much 
 harm intindid you; but I 'd recommend you to keep 
 a civil tongue in your head, or maybe it 's little more 
 you '11 ever spake. Now take that as a word to the 
 wise." 
 
 Rory took the hint for the words were spoken 
 in a tone that implied the speaker had rather a friendly 
 feeling than otherwise, and to advice, so given, he 
 attended. Powerless as he lay, however, and in the 
 hands of enemies as he was, he did not despair : his 
 fertile brain was at work in many a wild conjecture 
 as to what the intention of his captors could be, and 
 in forming contrivances how he might outwit them 
 and make good his escape. 
 
 After some hours thus spent, at length he and his 
 fellow-prisoner were raised from their recumbent 
 position ; and the ligatures being removed from their 
 legs, they were taken from their place of confinement 
 and desired to walk in silence in the midst of the 
 smugglers. It was at night, and still continued to 
 rain and blow violently ; so that no time could be 
 more favourable to their purpose of removing Rory 
 and Scrubbs with all speed and secrecy to the coast. 
 After walking some miles, they stopped at a cabin in 
 a very lonely situation ; where having knocked for 
 admittance, the door was opened by a man of ruffianly 
 appearance, whom Rory had never seen before, 
 though the rest of the party were known to him. 
 Here refreshment was called for ; and though the 
 fare was coarse, it was acceptable after their walk in 
 
336 Rory O'More 
 
 the rain. To Rory it was particularly so, for he had 
 been fasting since breakfast, and notwithstanding his 
 questionable position, he had too much courage to 
 let such an occurrence spoil his appetite. But fear 
 had taken such possession of the cowardly collector, 
 that he could not swallow a morsel, and a glass of 
 spirits was all he could get down. 
 
 During the time they were in the house, nothing 
 was spoken in presence of the prisoners which could 
 enlighten them as to the smugglers' intentions. In- 
 deed, there was more silence than usual amongst so 
 many Irishmen ; and whenever any communication 
 seemed to be desired between any of the parties, they 
 either conversed in low whispers beside the fire, or 
 beckoned towards the door, and preferred making 
 their confidences outside in the rain, to incurring the 
 risk of being overheard by Rory or the collector. 
 
 After some time, a car and horse were provided, 
 and Scrubbs and Rory again bound by the feet and 
 placed on the car. In vain did Rory request the 
 privilege of being allowed to walk ! " Tare an' 
 ouns ! " said he, " whatever you do, don't make a pig 
 or a cawf o' me, and spanshel me up on a car as if 
 you wor dhrivin' me to market ! " 
 
 " Howld your tongue and do what you 're bid ! " 
 was the only answer he received. 
 
 In this fashion they pushed on some miles further, 
 and then making another halt, two of the men and 
 De Welskein obtained horses, and the prisoners 
 being consigned to their care, the rest of the escort 
 dropped ofF. They travelled thus all night, and the 
 horse which drew the car was urged to as much 
 speed as he could effect under the draught of so 
 lumbering a vehicle, to the no small cost of poor 
 Rory's ribs ; for when at dawn they came to a halt, 
 at a house equal in loneliness to the one they had 
 
Rory O'More 337 
 
 first entered, and loosening Rory's bands, desired him 
 walk in, it was as much as he could do to command 
 the use of his limbs, so benumbed and bruised had he 
 become in the course of this nocturnal kidnapping 
 journey. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 GIVING AN EXAMPLE OF MAGISTERIAL SEVERITY AND 
 MATERNAL TENDERNESS 
 
 THE disappearance of the collector produced a 
 great sensation in the country. As far as a 
 day went, his absence from home without being 
 accounted for, however it might cause surprise, gave 
 nobody any uneasiness ; but when a second day 
 elapsed without his reappearance within his own walls, 
 it caused inquiry, and inquiry seemed only to perplex 
 people more, that is, as long as they inquired 
 where most they expected to find intelligence of him. 
 But in this case, as in most others of the sort, chance 
 did more than intention, and the clue to the dis- 
 appearance of the collector was found by the casual 
 visit of a customer to the " Black Bull." This 
 person was no other than Sweeny, who was a crony 
 of Scrubbs, and supplied his wife with patent medi- 
 cine, while her husband gave him petty fogging jobs 
 of various sorts : therefore, when his patron was 
 missing, Sweeny offered his services in the endeavour 
 to find him. In so doing, he had overridden his 
 horse one day ; and arriving at the u Black Bull," 
 he stopped to give the animal some rest, and a feed, 
 for it was yet some miles to his own home. 
 
 On following his horse into the stable, what was 
 his surprise to see Scrubbs's steed, which still remained 
 under the care of Larry Finnegan, who kept him 
 
339 
 
 until he should be sent for, and had not as yet heard 
 of the collector's disappearance. 
 
 " Hillo ! " exclaimed the attorney, " what brings 
 Mr. Scrubbs's horse here ? " 
 
 " He left him here himself last Sunday," was the 
 answer. 
 
 "And where is Mr. Scrubbs himself? " 
 
 u How should I know ? " 
 
 " Because he was here last ! " 
 
 "Last Sunday he was, sartainly ; but " 
 
 " Ay, but there 's the thing ! what has become 
 of him since ? " 
 
 " How should I know ? " 
 
 " Because this is the last place at which I have 
 heard of him : and if you can't give a satisfactory 
 account of the matter, I can tell you it will be a 
 serious business." 
 
 This led at once to an explanation of the circum- 
 stances which had occurred at the "Black Bull;" 
 and the upshot of the business was, that Scrubbs had 
 left the house in company with Rory O'More, and 
 had not since been heard of. The next step to take, 
 of course, was to go to O'More and ask him what 
 had become of the collector : but Sweeny did not like 
 to make the visit alone, for this bit of mystery, con- 
 nected with Rory's name, aroused all the latent sus- 
 picions of him, which the appearance of the colonel's 
 pass had somewhat qualified, if not dispelled ; and the 
 remembrance of De Lacy's case of pistols, and his 
 manifest promptness to use them, exercised so potent 
 an influence over the attorney, that he determined to 
 visit Rory with witnesses. This was his legal reason 
 for the step ; but the fact was, that Sweeny's courage 
 was of a very companionable nature. 
 
 To the captain of the yeomanry corps, therefore, 
 he hied him ; and that noble commander, on Sweeny's 
 
340 Rory O'More 
 
 detailing the occasion of his application, determined 
 to pay a second visit to Rory's cottage, with all 
 the force of his troop he could muster at a short 
 notice. 
 
 In this determination let us leave them for the 
 present, and take a peep at the quiet domicile they 
 threatened with their visit. 
 
 Though Rory was expected to return to his home 
 the day he left it with De Lacy, yet his absence 
 created no alarm, though Mary and his mother sat 
 up late in expectation of his coming home. When 
 the next day elapsed without his making his appear- 
 ance, they concluded he could not prevail on himself 
 to part with De Lacy at the village, and that he had 
 accompanied him all the way to the coast. 
 
 In this satisfied belief they had indulged up to the 
 period that the yeomanry captain put his plan of mak- 
 ing an armed descent on the widow's cottage into 
 execution ; and it was with no small surprise and 
 alarm she saw her humble walls again environed by 
 the amateur dragoons. The captain and Sweeny de- 
 manded, on entering the house, to see Rory. " He 's 
 not here, plaze your honour," said the widow. 
 
 " Where is he ? " said they. 
 
 Now this was rather a poser, for the widow did not 
 like to tell the cause of Rory's absence or, indeed, 
 it would be fitter to say, did not dare to tell it, and 
 so she " beat about the bush " as well as she could 
 for some time, until, from the nature of her answers, 
 the captain had his deepest suspicions strengthened, 
 and he said, 
 
 " The fact is, he is afraid to show himself, and is 
 concealed." 
 
 " What should he be afeard of, sir ? " said the 
 widow. 
 
 " He 's concealed ! " said the captain, " and we 
 
Rory O'More 341 
 
 must search for him. And where is the gentleman 
 you had living here with you ? " 
 
 " He's left the place, sir." 
 
 " Ho, ho ! the same story of him too ! We must 
 look for them, then." 
 
 With these words, they proceeded, with those 
 under their command, to pull to pieces a stack of 
 hay and another of corn that stood in Rory's haggart, 
 much to the dismay of the poor widow. In vain she 
 protested, in vain she besought : they were bent on the 
 work they had set about. 
 
 " Sure, if you think they 're hid, gintlemen, sarche 
 the house first, at laste, before you go pull my little 
 bit of hay and whate to pieces ! " 
 
 " Oh, we know better than that ! They would n't 
 hide in the house ; but they may be here." 
 
 " Well, sure, if they be, you can prod the stacks 
 with your swoords ; but for God's sake, don't pull 
 the stacks to pieces, and it rainin'. Sure, you won't 
 lave them worth a thraneen ! and you wouldn't ruin 
 the little thrifle of substance the poor widow has 
 left ! " 
 
 The appeal was unheeded ; they searched not within 
 the house, nor did they satisfy themselves by prodding 
 the stacks with their blades (which was a common 
 practice in those times), but they pulled down the 
 scanty savings of her little farming, under the pre- 
 tence of finding those they were in search of; and in 
 doing this, they were not guilty of any extraordinary 
 atrocity, for in those times it was the common prac- 
 tice to destroy as much of the property of suspected 
 people as the slightest pretext would admit. But 
 these merciless fellows did not only bereave the lone 
 woman of the accumulated produce of her little farm, 
 but bragged of their humanity in not burning her hag- 
 gart before her eyes, 
 
342 Rory O'More 
 
 " God help me ! " said the distracted woman, 
 wringing her hands. " Sure, it 's all one whether you 
 desthroy me by fire or wather ! You Ve pulled my 
 little hay and corn about the place in the middle of 
 the rain ; and what good is it afther that ? Oh, how 
 will I ever pay my bit of rint ! Oh, weira ! weira ! 
 Burn it, indeed ! " said she, as her wrongs gave her 
 courage to speak more openly ; " throth, you 're wel- 
 come to burn it, if you 're able, afther the wettin' it 
 has got now." 
 
 In the Dublin Castle journals of the day, this 
 circumstance was set forth at great length, with a 
 flourishing encomium on the Christian forbearance of 
 
 the " Horse in having merely searched the hag- 
 
 gart of the person who had murdered (as it is believed} 
 
 Jonathan Scrubbs, Esq. of Lodge, in the County 
 
 of , without having burned to the ground (as they 
 
 ought to have done} every stick and stone belonging to 
 the papist ruffian." 
 
 The widow, as yet, had not heard of the disappear- 
 ance of the collector, nor of his having been last seen 
 in company with Rory ; therefore she was uncon- 
 scious of any cause of uneasiness on the score of her 
 son, and had nothing to lament over but her ruined 
 haggart. Another day, however, had not passed with- 
 out her hearing of the occurrence, with all the varie- 
 ties of account that rumour with her hundred tongues 
 sends far and wide on such occasions. 
 
 The " Black Bull " was the centre whence these 
 reports radiated ; for, from the moment of Sweeny's 
 visit there, and recognition of Scrubbs's horse, curiosity 
 was at work to know " what in the world could have 
 become of the collector;" and when Rory O'More 
 could not be heard of, the anxiety to unravel the mys- 
 tery increased. In this state of things it was that the 
 crow-bar which Rory O'More had taken with him 
 
Rory O'More 343 
 
 from the public-house was found in the glen of the 
 Folly : this led to further investigation ; recent foot- 
 marks near the ruin, bearing the appearance of a 
 struggle, were observed. The bars wrenched from the 
 grated window, and the evidences of the recent habita- 
 tion of the vault, gave rise to many conjectures -, and 
 a grand field of mystery, with a noble standing crop 
 upon it, was thus opened to the whole community, 
 who began to reap away at it with might and main, 
 and a very noble harvest of wonder was soon gathered , 
 nor were there wanting gleaners to follow up the work 
 and bring in the last precious grains of the incompre- 
 hensible. 
 
 The widow heeded not the various forms which the 
 story assumed, for every subordinate interest was lost 
 in the one all-absorbing consideration to her, that her 
 son was missing ; and in this feeling Mary partici- 
 pated. In a few days, however, an additional pang 
 was added to her grief; for the Scrubbs's party had no 
 hesitation in saying the collector had been murdered, 
 and that Rory O'More was guilty of the crime. 
 When the poor woman became possessed of this 
 report, her agony of mind was excessive an agony 
 relieved only by occasional indignation that her bey 
 should be so maligned ; but this temporary relief be- 
 ing of an exciting, instead of a soothing character, her 
 mind was kept in a state of tumult almost bordering 
 on distraction. 
 
 u Oh, that I ever should see the day," she would 
 exclaim, "my darlin' boy should be accused of mur- 
 dher ! Oh, that my grey hairs should suffer the dis- 
 grace! Oh, Rory ! Rory ! where are you ? where 
 are you ? Why don't you come and give them thi 
 lie? for you never done it, never, never, never! 
 You murdher ? You, that would n't hurt a fly ? Oh, 
 my boy ! my boy ! " 
 
 VOL. II. 6 
 
344 Rory O'More 
 
 " Mother dear ! " exclaimed Mary, weeping as she 
 spoke, " don't take on so don't, mother dear, or 
 you '11 break my heart ! " 
 
 " Oh, Mary, Mary ! is n't it bad enough we 've lost 
 our darlin', our pride, and our prop is n't it bad 
 enough he 's gone for ever from us, without his name 
 bein' blackened to the world ? Sure, when my dar- 
 lin' was taken from me, the laste they might have 
 left me was the bright remembrance of him without 
 stain or blame ! Oh, the hard-hearted crew ! to rob 
 the lone widow of a mother's pride ; and when the 
 grave had swallowed her darlin', to put disgrace over 
 him for his tombstone ! " 
 
 She wrung her hands and kept rocking in her seat, 
 while Mary in vain attempted to soothe her. 
 
 u Don't be talkin' of his grave, mother dear ; sure, 
 we don't know but " 
 
 Here the mother interrupted her with a wild burst 
 of thought caught up from the passing word 
 
 " Thrue, thrue ! we don't know where he lies : 
 
 Oh, if I did, I 'd go there and throw myself on my 
 Rory's grave, and brake my heart, and make my last 
 bed there with him ! But my heart is broke broke 
 
 broke! and the sooner the grave closes over me 
 the betther ! " 
 
 " Oh ! don't talk that way, mother, for God's 
 sake don't! Sure, you wouldn't lave your poor 
 Mary alone ? " 
 
 u No, alanna ! no, if I could help it : but how 
 can I live afther him! And you you won't live 
 afther him either for you loved him like your life; 
 and soon we '11 follow him, and lave the cowld world, 
 for it is cowld and blake to us now without him. 
 And the disgrace the disgrace ! He a murdherer ! 
 
 But who '11 believe it ? Will thim that knew him 
 believe it ? Never, never ! " 
 
Rory 0" More 345 
 
 " No, mother dear no, they won't ! " 
 
 " You don't think they will, Mary ? God bless 
 you, child, for the word ! No who could believe 
 it of him, that had the kindest heart and the proudest 
 spirit ? he disgrace his name he lave reproach for 
 his sisther's portion, and despair for his mother's clos- 
 ing days ! no, they can't believe it." 
 
 " No, mother dear, they can't ! " 
 
 " Thim that could scatther the widow's substance 
 to the winds may say it, but they won't be believed ; 
 and the fair name of my dead boy will be sthronger 
 than the lies of the living." 
 
 In this belief 1 the forlorn woman was right ; and 
 when she found the peasantry gave no credit to the 
 rumour, and that, however they were unable to ac- 
 count for Rory's disappearance and the suspicious cir- 
 cumstances attending it, they entertained no doubt of 
 his innocence, the widow became more reconciled, 
 and bore her loss with greater fortitude. The uni- 
 versal sympathy also which she found in her neigh- 
 bours tended to support her ; and when she heard the 
 accusation against Rory repelled as indignantly in his 
 own class as by herself, she was much soothed, as the 
 exemption of her son's name from disgrace relieved 
 her from more than half the weight of her affliction. 
 
 Foremost in the tender offices of condolence was 
 Kathleen Regan if that might be called condolence 
 which was rather a communion of affliction. The 
 meeting of the two girls in the Widow O'More's 
 cottage was very touching. Without their having 
 ever spoken on the subject, the love of Rory and 
 Kathleen was perfectly well understood between 
 them ; and when Kathleen crossed the threshold of 
 her lost lover's cottage, she could not speak a word, 
 but both girls looked at each other for a moment 
 in silent agony, and rushing with open arms into an 
 
346 Rory O'More 
 
 embrace of sorrowing endearment, they wept upon 
 each other's neck. 
 
 The girls had always liked each other, but now a 
 fresh motive of attachment existed between them. 
 Kathleen saw in the sister whom Rory loved so well 
 an object to be additionally fond of for his sake ; and 
 Mary, in looking on the girl to whom her brother had 
 given his heart, was similarly influenced : and thus 
 their friendship at once became increased to affect ion, 
 and a portion of the love that each had borne to Rory 
 they transferred upon each other. They often met, 
 and. for hours together would talk over their bereave- 
 ment, and, after some time, were forced to admit the 
 long-combated belief to their hearts, that Rory was 
 dead ; for as Conolly's evidence was conclusive that 
 he did not accompany De Lacy, they knew of no 
 cause short of death for his absence. 
 
 It was in one of these conversations Mary O'More 
 told Kathleen that, after all which they heard about 
 the glen of the Folly, and the many times it had 
 been examined, she would wish very much to visit the 
 place herself, and search it carefully up and down, 
 but it being so solitary, she did not like going alone, 
 and asked Kathleen to bear her company. A ready 
 assent was given to the proposal, and the girls spent a 
 whole day in making a careful survey of the valley, 
 from the Folly up to the wild and rocky gorge 
 where the glen was shut in by a bluff barrier of cliff 
 down which the stream tumbled. 
 
 Though making no observation tending to clear 
 up the mystery, their visits were often repeated ; and 
 notwithstanding their continued ill-success in every 
 endeavour to elucidate the fatal cause which had 
 bereft them of Rory, yet there was a melancholy 
 pleasure in being on the spot he was last traced to. 
 The frequency of their walks in the glen had so 
 
Rory O'More 347 
 
 accustomed them to the place, that habit had over- 
 come their fear of its loneliness, and sometimes each 
 girl went there alone. 
 
 It was on one of these occasions when Mary 
 O'More had wandered nearly to the end of the glen, 
 that she was startled by hearing the sound of a coarse 
 voice which made her blood run cold. She paused 
 and listened, and in the lapse of a few moments 
 became conscious she heard the voice of Shan Regan, 
 and with a hasty and cautious step the terrified girl 
 ran higher up the glen; and doubling swiftly round a 
 projecting rock, she struck into a small hazelwood 
 that promised shelter, and crouching under the bushes 
 and rank grass, sought concealment from the man 
 whose presence she loathed and dreaded. The sound 
 of footsteps approached ; she could scarcely breathe : 
 they came nearer ; she trembled so violently, as 
 scarcely to prevent the bush which sheltered her from 
 rustling with her tremor, and in another instant 
 Regan was visible a few paces below her, standing at 
 the foot of the rock round whose angle she had just 
 passed. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 SHOWING HOW LIKE A GENTLEMAN A TINKER IS 
 WHEN HE THINKS HE IS DYING 
 
 " When the devil was sick, the devil a monk would be, 
 When the devil was well, the devil a monk was he." 
 
 TO account for the presence of Regan in the 
 glen of the Folly at this time, it becomes nec- 
 essary to revert to the events of the night the smug- 
 glers -carried off the collector. 
 
 When the kidnappers and their prisoners made 
 their first halt at the lonely hut where the car was 
 procured, the old tinker determined to remain there 
 for the night, as he felt unable to proceed, being at- 
 tacked with fits of shivering, probably occasioned by 
 his remaining standing so long nearly up to the knees 
 in water during the imprisonment of the smugglers in 
 the vault. Copious draughts of hot punch failed to 
 relieve him , and as this wretched hovel was unpro- 
 vided with a bed, a bundle of straw was all the tinker 
 had to lie upon ; and this was a share granted to him 
 by Morty Mooney from his own wisp, which served 
 himself for a bed whenever he used the hut as his 
 resting-place, the hovel not being meant for a 
 regular domicile, but serving the disorderly set with 
 whom Morty was leagued, as a place of rendezvous 
 or halt, as occasion required ; for from its lonely 
 situation it was admirably adapted to the purposes 
 of those with whom secrecy was often an object of 
 importance. 
 
Rory O'More 349 
 
 During the night, Solomon's moans sometimes dis- 
 turbed the sleep of Morty Mooney, who, as morning 
 approached, was besought by the tinker to get " a 
 spark o' fire " and make some more hot punch, for in 
 the course of the night the fire had become extin- 
 guished. The request was complied with ; but 
 Solomon's pain remained unalleviated ; he continued 
 his moaning protestations that he was " racked in- 
 tirely," and, at length, expressed his fear that he was 
 dying. As this belief became strengthened, the un- 
 fortunate old reprobate exhibited considerable appre- 
 hension of the final hour, and showed his dread of 
 approaching judgment by many pious ejaculations that 
 long had been strangers to his withered lips. At 
 last, he said he should like to see the priest, and 
 urged Morty to go for him. But Morty said he 
 could not do his errand until the return of Shan 
 Regan, who had accompanied the party overnight and 
 promised to be back early on the following morning ; 
 but that as soon as he arrived, the priest should be 
 sent for.- 
 
 " Oh, don't lose any time, Morty, I 'm very bad ! 
 Oh, if I should die without seein' the priest ! " 
 
 " You 're not so bad as all that comes to yet," said 
 Morty. 
 
 " Oh, I 'm racked inside, and I feel myself growin' 
 wake ! " 
 
 " Here 's more hot dhrink for you." 
 
 " It 's no use." 
 
 " It 's brave and sthrong, and as hot as the divil." 
 
 " Oh, don't say divil God be merciful to me 
 don't say divil, Morty, don't! Oh! oh! I'm 
 racked ! Gi' me the dhrink, then : is it hot ? is 
 it hot ? " 
 
 " Yis, brave and hot ; " and he handed him the 
 steaming punch in a jug, which trembled in the old 
 
350 Rory O'More 
 
 tinker's hands and rattled against his teeth as he 
 drank. 
 
 " It 's no use," said Solomon ; " it warms my heart 
 no more than if it was cowld wather. I'm cowld 
 I 'm cowld ! Oh, the rackin' pain ! For the love 
 o' God go for the priest, and don't let me die this 
 a-way ! " 
 
 " The minit Regan comes." 
 
 " Oh, he can wait, but my poor sowl can't wait ! 
 You would n't stand between me and the light o' 
 glory, would you? Oh, go, Morty, go! you'll 
 be dyin' one day yourself." 
 
 " Well, whenever that may be, I won't be sitch a 
 coward about it, any how." 
 
 " You don't know that, you don't know that. 
 While the life is sthrong the courage is sthrong, but the 
 heart fails you when you feel the life gettin' low." 
 
 u Tut ! don't be so afeard, a man ought always to 
 be a man." 
 
 u Oh, you dunna what it is to be hangin' over the 
 pit, and the thread o' life goin' to brake ! I thought 
 like you wanst, but now it 's dhreadful to be near 
 it ! Oh, don't let me die out o' salvation ! go for 
 the priest if you hope to see glory." 
 
 Morty went outside the cottage to avoid Solomon's 
 importunity ; for he did not like complying with his 
 request without seeing Regan, as, under existing cir- 
 cumstances, he dreaded that the tinker should make 
 some discoveries in the course of his confession with 
 his ghostly visitor which might prove inconvenient to 
 his confederates. He walked therefore towards the 
 point whence he expected Regan to approach, and 
 was not long without meeting him. He communi- 
 cated to him Solomon's precarious state, and his desire 
 to see the priest, and pointed out his apprehensions 
 of the dangerous consequences that might arise from 
 
Rory O'More 351 
 
 complying with his request. They consulted together 
 on the course to be pursued in this matter, as they 
 walked slowly back to the hut where the tinker still 
 lay groaning and calling unavailingly on Morty to 
 hasten for the confessor. 
 
 "It would be well he was dead, the owld thief! " 
 said Morty, " for he 'd be no loss to any one." 
 
 " That 's thrue indeed, and by what you tell me 
 it's like he's not long for this world: don't you say 
 he is dyin' ? " 
 
 "He thinks so himself," said Morty; "but that's 
 the cowardly heart of him ; for he 's as tough as a gad, 
 and I don't think he '11 go without a hard sthruggle. 
 Suppose we lave him there and let him die ? " 
 
 " How would it be wid us thin ? " said Regan, 
 who did not in the smallest degree revolt at the 
 cruelty of the suggestion, but had an eye to the 
 consequences. 
 
 "Sure, we wouldn't have a hand in puttin' any 
 harm on him, and who could say a word to us ? " 
 
 " That 's thrue, sure enough," said Regan, who 
 walked a few paces in silence while he revolved in 
 his own mind the proposition. 
 
 " If he was found dead there, it might lead to 
 inquiry." 
 
 " When he 's dead, can't we throw him into a bog- 
 hole ? " said Morty : " who cares enough for him to 
 ax any questions ? " 
 
 " Do you know where the ass is ? " said Regan, 
 still considering. 
 
 " No," said Morty. 
 
 " You see that ! " said Regan, " the cunnin' owld 
 rascal always left the ass somewhere else whenever 
 he kem to the Folly, that it might be to the fore to 
 rise a question if any thing happened him and he 
 did n't go back to claim it. Do you mind ? " 
 
352 Rory O'More 
 
 u Bad luck to his 'cuteness! what a head he has ! " 
 
 " He 's the biggest owld rogue in Ireland ! " said 
 Regan. 
 
 " Well, what are we to do ? " said Morty. 
 
 " We '11 see how he is first," said Regan as they 
 approached the lonely hut. On getting near the 
 door, they paused for a moment, and heard the groans 
 of Solomon, mingled with ejaculations which were 
 uttered aloud : 
 
 " Oh, Morty Mooney, are you gone for the priest ? 
 bring him to save my poor sowl ! Oh, if you 
 desaive me, may a dead man's curse be an you, and 
 may you never see the light o' glory at your own 
 dyin' hour ! " 
 
 " That 's a bitther curse he 's puttin' an you, 
 Morty, aren't you afeard ? " said Regan, whose 
 superstitious nature was worked upon. 
 
 " Betther for him pray for himself than curse me," 
 said Morty. 
 
 u Well, it 's betther see him agin, any how," said 
 Regan, who entered the hut followed by Morty. 
 
 When Solomon heard the approaching footsteps, 
 he turned on his straw, and cried in a voice of anxious 
 earnestness, " Is that his reverence ? " 
 
 " Are you betther now ? " was the answer he got 
 from Regan. 
 
 41 Oh, did n't you bring the priest ? " 
 
 " By an' by, man, by an' by." 
 
 The old tinker groaned in mental and bodily 
 anguish. " Oh, if I die out o' salvation ! " 
 
 11 Listen to me, man," said Regan. 
 
 A conversation now took place between them, in 
 which Solomon worked upon the superstitious feelings 
 which he knew Regan to be under the control of, and 
 threatened him with the appearance of his unlaid ghost 
 after death if he permitted him to die without seeing 
 
Rory 0' More 353 
 
 the priest. Regan, in turn, made Solomon swear by 
 " the holy vestments and the seven blessed candles," 
 that he would not in his confession to the clergyman 
 commit his companions. 
 
 This, in his urgency for haste, Solomon promised, 
 and offered in proof of his sincerity that Regan might 
 be present while he received absolution from the con- 
 fessor. This point being carried, the pastor was sent 
 for, and Morty Mooney was urged to use all speed. 
 
 " And suppose I go for the docthor ? " said Regan. 
 
 "No, no," said Solomon, "it's no use, and 
 don't lave me to die alone, for God's sake ! stay 
 wid me, let me howld you, there, there! sure 
 it 's comfortin' to have a grip o' somethin' in this 
 life, while you 're in it, not to be left alone in 
 the last minit, to quit the world like a banished 
 sthranger." 
 
 Solomon continued in great pain and was apparently 
 sinking, and his anxiety for ghostly consolation con- 
 tinued to increase in a fearful degree. Nevertheless, 
 Regan, having acquitted his conscience in sending for 
 the priest, was in hopes the tinker would die before 
 his arrival, and so put the secrets Solomon was in 
 possession of out of danger. This inhuman desire, 
 however, was not gratified : the approaching tramp 
 of a horse was heard, and Regan, on going to the 
 door, saw Father Frank riding towards the hut at a 
 smart pace. Regan returned to the straw litter where 
 Solomon lay, and said, 
 
 " Now, remember your oath, don't bethray us ; 
 for if you do, hell-fire will be your portion ! " 
 
 " Lord be merciful to me!" said the dying man. 
 
 Regan now returned to the door to receive the 
 priest, and with the disgusting words he uttered to 
 the dying sinner yet hot on his lips, he said, "God. 
 save your reverence ! " as he made a low obeisance to 
 
354 Rory O'More 
 
 the priest, who alighted and entered the hovel, while 
 Regan secured the bridle of the horse to the staple 
 on the door-post and followed fast into the hut. 
 
 u Well, my poor man, are you very ill ? " said 
 Father Frank. 
 
 " Oh, God be praised you 're come ! " said Solo- 
 mon. " I 'm dyin', your reverence, dyin' ! give 
 me the comforts o' the church, and God bless you ! 
 Oh, I 'm a poor sinner ! give me absolution for my 
 sins, and save my poor sowl ! " 
 
 " Leave me alone with him," said the clergyman 
 to Regan : " he wants to confess." 
 
 " Plaze your reverence, he has nothin' to confess : 
 he says he only wants the comforts o' the church 
 before he departs." 
 
 " Retire," said the pastor. " You ought to know 
 he cannot receive the sacrament without making a 
 confession." 
 
 Solomon declared he had nothing to confess : " I 
 have no time for confession, more than that I 'm a 
 wicked sinner, and repent o' my sins, and hope to see 
 glory, if your reverence will give me absolution." 
 
 " God help you, poor man ! " said Father Frank 
 humanely, " you shall have the consolations of the 
 church in your l ast moments ; but you should make 
 a clean breast, and unburden your conscience : you 
 have sins to confess." 
 
 " More than I have time for," said Solomon 
 faintly : " I 'm dyin'. I confess I 'm a miserable 
 sinner, and I ax God's pardon, and my blessed 
 Sav'or's pardon ; and won't you give me absolution, 
 your reverence, and promise me the light o' glory ? 
 Oh, take pity on my poor sinful sowl, and give me 
 the absolution ! and I have money, money enough, 
 your reverence." 
 
 " Don't think of- your money, you poor sinful 
 
Rory O'More 355 
 
 mortal ! but think of saving your soul, and confess 
 yourself before God, who knows your crimes, and is 
 willing to pardon them if you confess them." 
 
 " Oh, I lave all that to his own honour, your 
 reverence, if you '11 only gi' me the absolution, and 
 say masses for my poor sowl when I 'm gone ; 
 and I 've money to pay for thim plenty o' money 
 will you say the masses for me ? ' : 
 
 " Let me confess you first." 
 
 " Sure, I 've nothin' to confess, more nor I con- 
 fessed already, I 'm a poor sinner, and ax absolu- 
 tion ; and if your reverence goes to the glin o' the 
 Folly and there at the upper end there 's a big 
 rock stands out in the glin, and some hazel-threes 
 near it higher up the hill." Here he writhed in 
 agony, and gave his accustomed cry that he was 
 racked. He seemed weaker after the spasm, and in 
 a voice more faint than hitherto, besought the priest 
 for absolution, with a look so imploring, that Father 
 Frank could no longer resist the appeal, and fearing 
 he should expire every instant, the extremity of the 
 case induced him to dispense with a confession, and 
 he administered the last rites of the church. 
 
 The poor wretch seemed much soothed by the act, 
 and after a short pause, continued. 
 
 c ' Undher that rock, near a big bunch o' dock-laves, 
 if you dig up the ground, you '11 find a leather bag 
 with goolden guineas in it, more more- 'fhan 
 you 'd think the poor tinker Here he paused 
 
 again in apparent pain ; but recovering again, he 
 said faintly. " The goold your reverence I 
 give the goold to you for the masses for my 
 sowl. Oh, say the masses ! the masses ! " He 
 could add no more, and sank back on his heap of 
 straw. 
 
 M God be merciful to his soul ! " said the priest 
 
356 Rory O'More 
 
 devoutly, as he joined his hands in prayer over the 
 poor sinner, whose spirit he thought had passed. 
 But Solomon had not yet given up the ghost ; he still 
 continued to breathe, but his state of exhaustion 
 seemed to be such, that no hope could be entertained 
 of his recovery, and as there was no apparent like- 
 lihood even of returning consciousness, Father Frank 
 prepared to go. 
 
 " This should be an awful warning to you," said 
 he to Regan, who attended him to his horse. " See 
 how the death-bed of the sinner shakes the heart ! I 
 hope you may profit by the lesson. After the poor 
 man's decease, you must accompany me to the place 
 where he said his money is concealed, to witness how 
 much is there, and I will divide it between masses 
 for his soul, and offices of charity." 
 
 When the priest had gone, Regan returned to the 
 hut and found Solomon had sunk into a sleep. " I 
 suppose he '11 go off that way," said he to himself. 
 " And to think o' the owld vagabone having such a 
 power o' money, all by chatin' and robbin' the 
 way he robbed the stakes o' the game yestherday in 
 the Folly ! " 
 
 Xo every one's surprise, Solomon, instead of dying, 
 awoke the better of his sleep much exhausted it is 
 true, but manifestly out of danger. While in this 
 state, he was often visited by Father Frank, who 
 endeavoured to impress upon him how sacred the 
 duty became, to thank God for his mercy, in granting 
 the time for repentance of his sins, and not hastening 
 him away in the unprepared state in which the pastor 
 found him, when, trembling at the terrors of death, 
 he prayed for absolution, which, under the extreme 
 circumstances of the case, had been given him then : 
 " but now," added Father Frank, " I expect you to 
 lead a good life for the remainder of, the period 
 
Rory O'More 357 
 
 Heaven may please to grant you, and I desire you 
 come to your duty regularly." 
 
 Solomon promised fairly ; but the moment the 
 priest's back was turned, his thoughts were far from 
 heavenward. To the earth, to the earth they re- 
 turned again ; for he thought of his concealed treasure, 
 and trembled for its safety, as he remembered that 
 Regan was present when he named the spot where it 
 was buried. 
 
 For some days he could not rise from the litter 
 whereon he lay : and when he was enabled to move, 
 it was but to crawl feebly along. But even in this 
 exhausted state he made his way to the glen of the 
 Folly, to try if his hoard was safe. The appearance 
 of the spot alarmed him, for the place bore marks of 
 being recently disturbed, and he began eagerly to 
 upturn the soil. Wretched was the work of the old 
 miser: digging up the earth that so soon must cover 
 him, to seek that which was dearer to him than life. 
 What was his agony when he found his misgivings at 
 sight of the place were well-founded, and that his 
 gold was gone ! 
 
 At first he stood as stiff and cold as stone ; and 
 had he been of a nature sensible to emotion, the 
 shock would have killed him. At length he gave 
 way to groans and wrung his hands in despair he 
 threw himself on the ground ; and tears, that had 
 never since childhood wetted his cheek, now streamed 
 down the furrows that crime and craft had worn 
 there. He cursed his fate in having been spared from 
 the grave only to taste a bitterness beyond that of 
 death, and his wailing was mingled with blaspheming. 
 
 The sweet echoes of the quiet glen were startled at 
 the disgusting sounds, and the pure peace of Nature 
 violated ! 
 
 But the master-spirit of the miser at length came to 
 
358 Rory O'More 
 
 his aid : craft rose, phoenix-like, from the ashes of 
 his heart. Where, a few minutes before, he wept 
 in despair, and wrung his hands, he now sat motion- 
 less, with knitted brow and compressed lips, planning 
 within the dark and tortuous labyrinths of his deceit- 
 ful mind stratagem after stratagem to regain his lost 
 treasure. With the patience and cunning of a spider, 
 thread after thread he spun ; and if the breath of 
 doubt shook his fabric and broke his meshes, on he 
 toiled, unwearied, until the web was completed : and 
 now he only wanted to lure his game within his 
 grasp. 
 
 Having determined on his plan, he replaced the 
 earth he had dug up ; and so carefully did he restore 
 the appearance of the spot as it existed before his 
 visit, that no one would have suspected it had been so 
 recently disturbed. 
 
 He then left the place, muttering curses upon 
 Regan, for that he was the person who purloined 
 the treasure there was no doubt ; and the plan he 
 adopted to make him restore it was this : He con- 
 trived an opportunity of speaking to Regan without 
 exciting his suspicions ; and after alluding to the cir- 
 cumstances of his sickness, and of the hidden money 
 which he had told the priest of, " as you heerd me 
 tell him yourself," said he, Solomon then proceeded 
 to inform him that he had hid another hoard of money 
 in another place, but that he did not think it was as 
 safe as it would be in the glen of the Folly : '< and as 
 the priest and you knows that place," said Solomon, 
 " and as I can't live much longer now, I would wish 
 it to be known where my money is, for it 's a pity 
 it would be lost ; and when I 'm gone, sure I 'd wish 
 to lave somethin' to my friends to remimber me, and 
 some to say masses for my sowl ; for to give it all 
 to the priest, you see, Shan, is more nor I think right 
 
Rory 0' More 359 
 
 or raysonable. But, as I was sayin', it 's betther 
 have it all in one place ; and so, if you '11 go wid me 
 to the glin, I '11 put the rest o' what I have there too." 
 Here he produced a small leather bag, in which he 
 had put some pieces of clipped tin to resemble the 
 chink of coin, and just shaking it, to deceive the ears 
 of Regan, as he gave him a glimpse of the purse, he 
 replaced it in his pocket, asking Regan to accom- 
 pany him the next day to the glen u For, you see," 
 said he, " people sometimes goes there now, to see 
 the Folly, since the night we done the thrick there ; 
 and I 'm wake and owld, and would be afeard to go 
 by myself wid so much money about me. So, Shan 
 agra, come wid me, and thin you '11 know where 
 every rap poor old Solomon has saved is hid jist 
 yourself and the priest; and when I'm dyin', I 
 won't forget you, Shan throth I won't." 
 
 Regan fell into the trap, for the finished deception 
 of Solomon's acting induced the belief that he really 
 had more treasure to hide, and Shan Dhu lost no 
 time in restoring the bag he had stolen to its former 
 place of concealment, intending, when the additional 
 treasure was placed there, to seize it all and decamp. 
 It was the following day he went with the tinker for 
 the purpose of making the second deposit; and it was 
 on this mission he was engaged when Mary O'More 
 heard his voice in the glen and fled at his approach. 
 Let us now return to her, whom we left trembling in 
 her place of concealment. 
 
 VOL. ii. 7 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 WHICH WILL EXPLAIN ITSELF 
 
 MARY O'MORE nearly fainted from terror at 
 the sight of Regan, who stood in silence near 
 the rock ; and the thought of his discovering her 
 alone in such a deserted place shot a pang of agony 
 through her frame. 
 
 Regan at last raised his voice, and cried, " Are you 
 comin' ? " 
 
 The words were delightful to Mary's ear, for they 
 implied he had a companion, and the sense of her 
 desolation was lessened. 
 
 " Come on," said Regan again ; and Solomon soon 
 was visible to Mary. It was the first time in her life 
 she had ever been glad to see the old tinker. 
 
 11 Let me rest a bit," said Solomon, seating him- 
 self; " the walkin' tires me : I 'm wake yet." 
 
 " No wondher," said Regan. " 'Faith, I thought 
 you wor gone th' other day ! " 
 
 " Well, I can't stay very long now, any how ! I 
 feel myself goin' fast ; and whenever that '11 be, you '11 
 know where to get the goold, Shan agra, for it 's 
 yourself will have the most of it." 
 
 (" All of it," thought Shan in his heart.) 
 
 " And so," continued Solomon, who, with admir- 
 able presence of mind, did not seem to be in any 
 hurry to look for his money, "So you tell me that 
 the Frinchman went aboord himself?" 
 
 "Vis."' 
 
Rory 'More 361 
 
 " And the collecthor is out of the way ? " 
 
 " Snug," said Regan. 
 
 Mary, at the name of the collector, was breathless, 
 and listened till the anxiety of hearing made her ears 
 tingle again. 
 
 " And Rory ? " said Solomon. 
 
 " D n his sowl ! he 's out of the way too," said 
 Regan. 
 
 Poor Mary gasped for breath. 
 
 " And not one can make head or tail of it through 
 the counthry," said Solomon. 
 
 " 'Faith, they may look for him long enough before 
 they '11 find him ! " said Regan. 
 
 " Well, we may as well look for what we kem for, 
 now that I 'm rested," said Solomon. u There 's 
 the very spot where it is." 
 
 ."Show it to me, jist," said Regan, " and I '11 turn 
 up the earth for you, bekaze you are wake yet, and 
 don't fataigue yourself." 
 
 " Thrue for you," said Solomon, who knew Regan's 
 motive was to prevent the recent removal of the earth 
 being noticed. 
 
 Shan Dhu now opened the blade of a large clasp 
 knife, and commenced the act of unearthing the 
 treasure. 
 
 Mary was in a state of confused horror all this 
 time. She had heard them say Rory might be looked 
 for a long while before he was found, and she 
 imagined, from these words, that they had concealed 
 his body after he was murdered (for she had given up 
 all hope of Rory's being alive) ; and perhaps this was 
 the spot where his mangled remains were hid, per- 
 haps these were his murderers before her; if she 
 were seen, her life would be forfeited also ! She 
 could observe Solomon's face from where she lay, and 
 she saw his eyes fixed with a look of fascination upon 
 
362 Rory O'More 
 
 the spot where Regan was delving with his knife and 
 turning up the clay with his hands. 
 
 Regan said at last, " I think I 'm near it now." 
 
 Mary's blood ran cold ; was it her brother's 
 corse they were uncovering ? Solomon's look became 
 more intense, and in a minute more he exclaimed, 
 " That 's it, that 's it ! " and with his hands out- 
 stretched like the claws of a bird of prey, he pounced 
 upon the hole that Regan had made and rooted up the 
 bag. " I have it, I have it ! " said he, unable to con- 
 tain his transport at the sight of his regained treasure, 
 which he hugged up close to his breast, as a mother 
 would hug her first-born. 
 
 Regan looked at him with a mixture of suspicion 
 and ferocity in his countenance perfectly horrible, and 
 neither of them spoke for some seconds. 
 
 Solomon was the first to break silence, and, rising 
 from his seat, he said, " I b'lieve we may as well go 
 now." 
 
 " Go where ? " said Regan. 
 
 " Out o' this," said Solomon : " we need not stay 
 here any longer." 
 
 " Why, are n't you goin' to bury it again ? " 
 
 " Yis, in another place." 
 
 u Why, you towld me you had more to put to it ! " 
 
 " Ay, ay, and so I will put this along wid th' 
 other." 
 
 " But you said you 'd put what more you had 
 here! " said Regan, who began to see the trick the 
 tinker meant to play him. 
 
 " Well, that 's what I intindid" said Solomon ; 
 " but I changed my mind sence, and I think this will 
 be safer along wid th' other : come wid me, and we '11 
 put it there ; " and he arose to depart as he spoke. 
 
 Regan laid his hand on the skirt of the tinker's 
 ragged coat, and dragged him to his seat again as he 
 
Rory O'More 363 
 
 said, " You won't go that way, as cunnin' as you 
 think yourself! Don't be catchin' your young birds 
 with chaff" that way, Solomon Sly, my darlin' : owld 
 sojers are not to be done with gingerbread ! " 
 
 u What do you mane, Shan avic ? " said Solomon, 
 endeavouring to affect composure. 
 
 " I tell you what I mane," said Regan with decided 
 ferocity in his manner: "I mane, that the divil an 
 out o' this you take that money so aisy ! " 
 
 " Why, you would n't hendher me o' puttin' my 
 money where I like, would you, Shan agra ? " said 
 Solomon, still endeavouring to maintain a quiet state 
 of things ; but while he assumed so much indifference, 
 he kept an iron grip of his money-bag. 
 
 "I'll hendher you takin' it out o' this by this 
 knife I will ! " said Regan, as he clutched the weapon 
 fiercely and shook it with vehemence in the tinker's 
 face. 
 
 Solomon changed countenance a little as he at-, 
 tempted further wheedling. 
 
 " Can't you come and see where I put it along wid 
 the rest r " said he. 
 
 " Along wid the rest indeed! That was a purty 
 humbug you made me b'lieve, you owld villain ! 
 Along wid the rest ! go and see where you put it ! 
 Yis, you threacherous owld thief! go out on the public 
 road wid you, and then you '11 make some fine excuse 
 as 'cute as a leprauchaun, and give me the slip ! No, 
 no; I have you now, and I '11 make my own o' you ! 
 You promised me some of it, and I '11 have it, or 
 I'll know why." 
 
 " You would n't take the money from a poor owld 
 man, would you, Shan dear ? " 
 
 " Poor, indeed ! " said Regan. " Why, you owld 
 starved 'ottomy, that never had the heart to buy a 
 male's mate or a hearty glass, you have more goold 
 
364 Rory 0' More 
 
 than many a sportin' fellow in the counthry, and more 
 than ever you can want ; and I do want it, and, what 's 
 more and take one word for all by the blessed 
 light I '11 have it before you lave this ! " 
 
 " Why, Regan, it 's not robbin' an owld man you 'd 
 be ? " 
 
 11 Rcbbin' ! you talk of robbin' ! Tell me, you 
 grey owld vagabone, who was it stole the stakes of 
 the spoil-five in the Folly ? You thought no one saw 
 you, did you ? but I seen it 1 did, and now I '11 see 
 who can play the best game here ! Gi' me the half 
 o' that bag, and be thankful I don't take it all ! you 
 know you promised me share of it." 
 
 " Yis, yis, I did," said Solomon, "and I'll keep my 
 word, Shan dear, I will -, but you remember I said 
 it should be afther I die." 
 
 "Die?" said Regan, with terrible meaning in his 
 voice, " die ? Take care how you put me in mind 
 o' that!" 
 
 Solomon looked ghastly at the implied threat, 
 and said imploringly, " Oh, Shan, Shan ! sure you 
 would n't murdher me ! " 
 
 "Who was it taught me last Sunday three weeks ? 
 who was it said in the Folly, that ' dead men tell 
 no tales ? ' eh ? " and his voice assumed a deeper 
 tone. 
 
 " Oh, Shan, Shan ! you would n't, you would n't ! 
 And Solomon again attempted to rise and depart ; 
 but Regan laid a still fiercer grasp upon him than he 
 had yet done, and said, " Would n't I ? " with the 
 scowl of a fiend. " Give me the half o' that money, 
 or I '11 make a way to your throat nearer than your 
 mouth by the 'tarnal I will! Will you give it ? " 
 
 Solomon did not speak, but clutched his money-bag 
 faster. 
 
 " Will you, I say ? " said Regan, getting more 
 
Rory 0' More 365 
 
 excited, and gripping his knife with as determined 
 a purpose as the tinker clutched his treasure. 
 
 Solomon now gathered all the strength he had left 
 into one desperate effort, and, in the hope of alarming 
 Regan, he raised his voice and shouted, " Murdher ! 
 murdher ! " 
 
 u You will have it, then ! " said Regan, who, step 
 by step, was worked up to desperation, and rushing 
 on the old man, he caught him by the throat, flung 
 him to the ground, and, with uplifted knife, was 
 about to throw himself uppn him with a horrible 
 curse, when Mary O'More, whose mind had been 
 wrought to the highest pitch of terror-stricken excite- 
 ment, could contain her feelings no longer, and 
 uttered an appalling shriek ; and as the echoes of the 
 valley rang to the scream, Regan stood petrified with 
 alarm. 
 
 Solomon took advantage of his terror, and looking 
 towards the spot whence the scream proceeded, he 
 saw, as he arose at the same instant, the girl emerge 
 from her place of concealment; and with an activity 
 surprising for one in his weakened condition, he was 
 at her side in a moment, and clinging to her, prevented 
 the escape she meditated. " Save me ! save me ! " 
 he exclaimed, as he held her with the energy and 
 tenacity of terror. 
 
 The consequences of a witness being present at 
 what had taken place flashed upon Regan's mind in 
 an instant; and once being committed in an act of 
 outrage, desperation urged him onward, and seeing 
 Mary O'More in such a position inflamed his brutal 
 nature with thoughts fitter for hell than earth. To 
 divide Solomon and the girl, and dispose of them 
 separately, was his object ; so, stimulating Solomon 
 by the hope of saving his gold, he said, 
 
 " Go off wid you be off, you and your money, 
 
366 Rory O'More 
 
 and lave this young woman with me : I want to have 
 some words with her." 
 
 Mary was now the person to cling to the tinker, 
 who endeavoured to shake her off, while she begged 
 for the love of God he would not desert her. 
 
 u Let him go, I tell you ! " said Regan. 
 
 " No ! no ! " screamed the girl. 
 
 The vile old miser, whose life she had just saved, 
 now eagerly endeavoured to loose himself from her 
 hold, and leave her in the hands of the ruffian from 
 whose knife she had delivered him, and, in the desire 
 to save his gold, would have left her in peril of worse 
 than death. 
 
 " Let me go, I bid you ! " cried the tinker im- 
 patiently, and striking as fiercely as he could at the 
 straining hands which held him. 
 
 " For the Blessed Virgin, I beseech you, Solomon 
 darlin'," cried the agonised girl, " don't lave me with 
 that horrid man ! Oh, Solomon ! afther savin' your 
 life, don't lave me this way ! " 
 
 Solomon seemed for an instant to have a touch of 
 compunction ; but Regan said, " If you stay here two 
 minutes longer, the divil a guinea you '11 ever lift out 
 o' this ! Be off, and lave this spyin' young lady with 
 me." 
 
 The threat roused Solomon to action, and again he 
 endeavoured to shake Mary from him. She threw 
 herself on her knees before him, and clasping him 
 firmly round his trembling limbs, besought him in the 
 most earnest and touching manner not to abandon 
 her. 
 
 " Oh, sure you would n't desert the poor, helpless, 
 innocent girl, sure you wouldn't! God won't 
 forgive you if you do. Oh, sweet Virgin protect 
 me!" 
 
 " Shake her off, I tell you, and save your money, 
 
Rory 'More 367 
 
 or, by all the divils in hell, I '11 have the lives o' both 
 o' yiz ! " shouted Regan as he laid hold of Mary 
 O'More and dragged her fiercely from Solomon, who 
 struggled to disengage himself from her; and at last, 
 by his striking her heavily on the hands, the unfortu- 
 nate girl was forced to relinquish her grasp; but at 
 the same moment she made a desperate effort to re- 
 gain her feet, and springing from her knees, turned 
 with the energy of desperation upon Regan and cried 
 with vehemence, " May the God that looks down on 
 us judge and punish you if you wrong me, Shan 
 Regan ! " 
 
 The moment Solomon found himself free, he ex- 
 erted what speed he might in getting away : and 
 Regan, holding Mary with a grip of iron, and looking 
 on her with demoniac triumph, said, 
 
 " Now I '11 tache you, my saucy lady, how you '11 
 gibe and jilt a man ! and you'll larn more in the glin 
 than you came to watch for ! " 
 
 With these 'words, he attempted to seize her round 
 the waist ; but Mary made an active resistance, and 
 maintained a surprising struggle against his ruffian 
 assault ; but every instant her power to repel became 
 less, her exclamations to Heaven grew weaker, and 
 at last her short and gasping shriek gave token that 
 she felt her remaining strength fast failing. 
 
 Just at 'this moment, when she was nearly within 
 the irrecoverable gripe of Shan Dhu, the baying of 
 hounds reached her ear, and she screamed with wild 
 
 jyi 
 
 " The hunt ! the hunt ! " 
 
 Regan made a last desperate effort to drag her into 
 the hazel-wood, where he might effect concealment 
 and drown her cries, but, inspired by the hope of suc- 
 cour, Mary, redoubled her .'efforts v and while she was 
 writhing in the unequal struggle, a fox ran close 
 
368 Rory O'More 
 
 beside them and dashed across the glen as the cry of 
 the hounds grew louder. 
 
 " They 're coming ! they 're coming ! " she cried ; 
 "you villain, they 're coming ! there's the fox ! Oh, 
 blessed Virgin, you 've saved me ! " 
 
 The cheering cry of the dogs again rang up the 
 glen, the pack opened louder and louder every instant, 
 and, in dread of discovery, Regan dashed into the 
 wood and climbed up the cliff. 
 
 The moment she was freed from his grasp, Mary 
 O'More ran with wild speed down the glen towards 
 the point whence the sound of the chase proceeded, 
 and soon saw the horsemen urging forward. The 
 moment she beheld them, the certainty of protection 
 produced so violent a revulsion of feeling, that her 
 brain reeled as she rushed onward, and she fell pros- 
 trate to the earth. 
 
 Among the foremost of the horsemen, was Mr. 
 Dixon, a magistrate, a gentleman of a kinder 
 nature than the generality of his class. He rode 
 beside Squire Ransford, and they both saw the pre- 
 cipitous flight of Mary O'More down the glen. Mr. 
 Dixon remarked the circumstance to the squire, who 
 attributed the headlong speed of the girl to her fear of 
 the hounds. Still Mr. Dixon kept his eyes fixed on 
 Mary ; and seeing her fall, he exclaimed, 
 
 " Down she goes ! " 
 
 " Let her pick herself up again ! " said the squire, 
 as he dashed forward in the chase. 
 
 But the magistrate, though fond of hunting, 
 thought there were other things in this world worth 
 thinking of; he had some h^art about him, with 
 which the squire was not troubled, and, despite the 
 alluring notes of " Sweet-lips " and " Merry-lass," 
 who gave tongue ahead in good style, he drew his 
 bridle when he saw the fugitive sink to the earth, and 
 
Rory O'More 36g 
 
 rode up to the prostrate girl, while the rest of the hunt 
 followed the squire, and left the office of charity to 
 him : and well for poor Mary O'More that there was 
 one to pity and protect her ! 
 
 Mr. Dixon alighted, and was some time before he 
 could calm the impatience of his excited horse, which 
 panted with eagerness to continue the chase, and he 
 could not attend to Mary until he had soothed his 
 steed into quietness ; then throwing the rein over his 
 arm, he knelt down to raise the fainting girl from the 
 earth, and found her in a state of complete insensibil- 
 ity. Seeing that to restore her would require his un- 
 divided attention, he led his horse, which still pulled 
 at his arm with impatience, to a thorn-tree, and fast- 
 ening the bridle to it, he hastened back to Mary. 
 
 Raising her gently from the earth, he carried her 
 close to the river; and there, by copiously sprinkling 
 the cool stream over her face, which a deathlike 
 paleness overspread, a paleness rendered more 
 striking by the dark hair that streamed loosely around 
 her head and neck, he gradually restored her to life ; 
 but it was some time before consciousness returned. 
 The sound of many waters was in her ears as she 
 opened her eyes and looked vaguely around. When 
 she caught the first glimpse of Mr. Dixon, the sight 
 of a human face seemed to startle her, and she at- 
 tempted to scream ; but her exhausted energies could 
 only give vent to a hard-drawn sigh. The soothing 
 tone in which she was spoken to tended to restore 
 her, and after some time she uttered a few broken 
 sentences ; but, from previous terror, such was the 
 incoherencv of her expressions, that Mr. Dixon could 
 only conjecture she had been in personal danger, and 
 therefore besought him to protect her. 
 
 " I will, my poor girl, I will." 
 
 " God bless you, sir ! you won't lave me alone ? " 
 
370 Rory O'More 
 
 " Certainly not ; calm yourself." 
 
 " Are they gone ? " said she, looking wildly up the 
 glen. 
 
 Mr. Dixon thought she might have been frightened 
 by the hounds, as the squire had supposed ; and as 
 she looked in the direction they had taken, he said, 
 " Yes, the dogs are all gone." 
 
 "Oh, it 's not thim ; sure, they were the salvation 
 o' me : only for the hunt, I was lost lost for ever! " 
 
 The magistrate by degrees learnt the cause of her 
 alarm, and asked her name. When she told him, he 
 said he supposed that Rory O'More was her brother. 
 
 " Brother ! " said she wildly " Oh, I 've no 
 brother now ! " and relapsed into tears. 
 
 " How do you know ? " said Mr. Dixon. 
 
 41 Oh, I'm afeard they've murdhered him! they 
 confessed it a'most before me." 
 
 This led to further questions on the magistrate's 
 part ; and Mary at length told all the particulars of what 
 she had witnessed between Shan Dhu and the tinker. 
 
 When she was sufficiently recovered to walk, Mr. 
 Dixon accompanied her from the glen to the village, 
 and there Mary got a friend to escort her to her home; 
 for even on the open road she feared to be alone, so 
 shaken had her nerves become by the terrible scene 
 she had gone through. 
 
 Mr. Dixon determined on having Mary's deposi- 
 tions taken and sworn to in regular judicial form, and 
 for that purpose rode over next day, with the squire 
 and Sweeny, to the widow's cottage. 
 
 On leaving the house, Sweeny suggested that this 
 story of Mary's might be all a stratagem to divert the 
 suspicion which attached to Rory, on the subject of 
 the collector's disappearance, into another channel. 
 Mr. Dixon said she had done more than divert sus- 
 picion, for that she had named the guilty parties. 
 
Rory 0' More 371 
 
 41 But how can you tell she speaks truth ? " said 
 the spiteful little attorney, whose hatred of Rory for 
 the tombstone affair was so bitter, that all of his name 
 were sharers in it. 
 
 " We must have Regan and the tinker arrested," 
 said Mr. Dixon. 
 
 " If you can find them," said Sweeny. 
 . " Well, if they keep out of the way, it will be 
 strong presumptive evidence of their guilt." 
 
 " Ah ! You 're not up to them as well as I am : 
 they may be all in the plot for what you know." 
 
 " They 're a pack of rebels altogether," said the 
 squire ; " and until the country is cleared of them, 
 we shall have no peace." 
 
 " You 're right, squire," said Sweeny. 
 
 " Well, I have not quite so bad an opinion of 
 them," replied Mr. Dixon ; " nor do I think the 
 girl's story a mere fiction. We must have Regan 
 and the tinker arrested as the next step." 
 
 The proper authorities were despatched for this 
 purpose to Regan's house ; but they found him not, 
 and for many days a useless search was prosecuted. 
 As for Solomon, he had no home where to seek him, 
 and the officers had therefore a roving commission to 
 lay hands on him as they might : but he eluded their 
 vigilance, and no one interested in their apprehension 
 could catch the smallest clew to the finding of Shan 
 Dhu and the tinker. 
 
 The priest suggested a visit to the lonely hut where 
 he had seen Solomon in his sickness, and a party 
 undertook the search immediately; but the hut was 
 deserted. Traces, however, of the recent visit of 
 man were manifest : the fresh peelings of some boiled 
 potatoes were strewn upon the floor, and the yet warm 
 embers of a turf fire were in the corner of the hovel. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 IN WHICH RORY MAKES HIS FIRST TRIP TO SEA A 
 VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY 
 
 IT was in a low and retired fishing-hut De Lacy 
 was housed the evening he reached the sea-coast, 
 there to await the arrival of the lugger off the shore. 
 He felt lonelv on his removal from those with whom 
 he had been lately sojourning, and to whom he had 
 in a manner become attached, and the efforts the 
 inmates of the fishing-hut made to entertain him were 
 unavailing ; so he retired to rest earlier than usual, 
 wishing to indulge the thoughts in solitude which the 
 presence of others interrupted without dissipating. 
 
 When on his bed, the influence of rest induced 
 a pleasant state of mind ; and leaving the remem- 
 orance of those he had parted from, Hope led him 
 onwards to the shores of France, where he trusted 
 soon to land in safety, and gather the materials for 
 a victorious return to his friends and country. Of 
 Adele, too, he thought, and Love whispered the joys 
 of again beholding and clasping to his heart the girl 
 of his affections. It was with such pleasing promise 
 on his imagination that he closed his eyes ; and the 
 downy wing of slumber, waving over his senses, 
 fanned this spark of hopefulness into flame, and all 
 night long he dreamt of his Adele, of their joyful 
 meeting, of her blushes and her smiles, of her 
 enthusiasm at the prospect of his name yet living 
 amongst the bright ones that should be dear to his 
 
Rory 'More 373 
 
 country, of their anticipation of future pleasures on 
 the war being past when the warrior should subside 
 into the husband, and Love bind the garland of vic- 
 tory on his brow ! Oh, youth ! youth ! how dost 
 thou teem with golden visions, while the dreamy 
 impressions of age are but cast in lead ! 
 
 De Lacy arose from his slumbers as though he had 
 fed on ambrosia overnight with that elastic feeling 
 of existence which belongs to the hopeful lover. 
 Influenced through the whole day by his dreamy 
 intoxication, he revelled in alternate visions of glory 
 and of love. As he roved along the strand, if he 
 turned to watch the changeful effects of the sea, he 
 looked upon the noble ocean stretched before him as 
 the high-road to his glorious aspirations ; and Hope 
 seemed to beckon him across the deep ; while, as the 
 surge thundered at his feet, and was swept backwards 
 in foam to the main, he heard the voice of Victory in 
 the sound, calling him to enterprise. If he looked 
 upward, and beheld the seaward clouds sailing towards 
 the land of his Adele, his musing was in a softer 
 mood ; and as some touch of sunshine tipped their 
 delicate forms, it was recognised by his heart as a 
 good omen. He was all excitement, and while he 
 fed on such sweet fancies he drew forth his pencil to 
 play with the pleasant thoughts as they arose ; and 
 soon imagination bore him beyond the world in which 
 he breathed. The roar of the booming sea was lost 
 in the silver sounds of fairy fountains ; the whistle of 
 the brisk wind sweeping across the waves, to which 
 his blood danced as he mused, was unheard amid the 
 whisper of the breeze through rustling groves ; and 
 the rough shingle of the shore whereon he walked, 
 felt under the foot of the enthusiast like the golden 
 sands of the classic fountain. He was in the land 
 of dreams. 
 
374 Rory O'More 
 
 THE LAND OF DREAMS 
 
 There is a land where Fancy's twining 
 
 Her flowers around life's fading tree, 
 Where light is ever softly shining, 
 
 Like sunset o'er a tranquil sea. 
 'Tis there thou dwell'st in beauty's brightness 
 
 More fair than aught on earth e'er seems ; 
 *Tis there my heart feels most of lightness, 
 
 There, in the lovely land of dreams! 
 
 *T is there in groves I often meet thee, 
 
 And wander through the sylvan shade, 
 While I in gentlest accents greet thee, 
 
 My own, my sweet, my constant maid! 
 There, by some fountain fair reposing, 
 
 Where all around so tranquil seems, 
 We wait the golden evening's closing, 
 
 There, in the lovely land of dreams! 
 
 But when the touch of earthly waking 
 
 Hath broken slumber's sweetest spell, 
 Those fabled joys of Fancy's making 
 
 Are in my heart remember' d well! 
 The day, in all its sunshine splendour, 
 
 Less fair to me than midnight seems, 
 When visions shed a light more tender 
 
 Around the lovely land of dreams! 
 
 But while De Lacy was indulging his poetic mood, 
 inhaling the fresh breeze and treading the open strand, 
 poor Rory was lying captive not many miles distant, 
 confined in a close hovel, almost smothered with 
 smoke, and revolving far other notions in his busy 
 brain. So closely were he and the collector watched, 
 that it was impossible to make an attempt at escape; 
 and Rory, from the character of the fellows who had 
 undertaken the business, looked upon any plan for 
 deliverance within his power to execute as hopeless : 
 they were all up to every thing in the way of finesse 
 
Rory 'More 375 
 
 and expedient ; and however he might overreach a 
 booby ensign, a chuckle-headed sergeant, or an amo- 
 rous colonel, a party of smugglers were as much 
 masters of fence as he was himself; therefore he felt 
 there was nothing left but to meet with fortitude 
 whatever fate awaited him. At the same time, how- 
 ever, he cast many an anxious thought homewards ; 
 and the uneasiness he knew his mother and sister 
 would suffer at his absence caused him more anxiety 
 than any other consideration. When the day was 
 over, and to Rory it seemed the longest he had 
 ever passed, another removal of the prisoners took 
 place, and under cover of darkness they were con- 
 ducted to the sea-coast, and put on board a small 
 fishing-boat that lay at anchor a short way from the 
 shore : they were stowed away in the fore part of the 
 boat, and Rory could hear them making preparations 
 for putting to sea. In vain did he inquire what they 
 were going to do with him ; he could not get any 
 answer to his questions, and was desired to " howld 
 his whisht ! " 
 
 In the mean time De Welskein had gone forward 
 to the fishing-hut where De Lacy was remaining, and 
 told him to be in readiness to put to sea that night. 
 
 " Is the lugger on the coast, then ? " said De Lacy. 
 
 "No, monsieur; we shall find her some leagues to 
 sea. She keeps a good offing ; but the smack will 
 run us out to meet her." 
 
 When the night fell, De Lacy was summoned to go 
 aboard, and getting into the punt of the fishing-boat, 
 was rowed alongside, in company with De Welskein. 
 
 The punt was hauled up, the sails hoisted, and 
 away bore the smack for the ocean. , 
 
 Poor Rory soon got wretchedly sea-sick ; and never 
 having heard of the nature of that most distressing 
 of all sensations, thought he was going to die, and 
 
 VOL. II. 8 
 
376 Rory 0' More 
 
 lamented, in the lapses of his paroxysms of nausea, 
 that he was doomed to suffer so miserable a death. 
 " Oh, if they 'd shoot me itself, or dhrown'd me at 
 wanst ! but to have a man turned inside out this 
 way, like a ow ! murdher ! my heart '11 be up 
 next ! " 
 
 De Welskein lay his course all night towards the 
 point where he expected to find his lugger, and as the 
 morning dawned she was perceptible : signals were 
 exchanged, the two vessels approached each other, 
 and a boat being lowered from the lugger, De Wel- 
 skein and De Lacy went aboard. 
 
 De Lacy had been on the deck of the fishing- 
 smack all night, wrapped in his cloak, for the mingled 
 stench of fish, tobacco, and bilgewater, rendered the 
 little crib, they called cabin, intolerable. When he 
 went up the side of the smuggler, De Welskein said 
 he must want rest after so long and cold a watch, and 
 recommended him to turn in. De Lacy declined 
 doing so immediately, but as De Welskein wanted to 
 make a transfer of the prisoners from the fishing- 
 smack without De Lacy's knowledge, he assumed a 
 sort of laughing consequence as captain of his own 
 vessel, declared he was absolute there, and insisted on 
 De Lacy's going to rest, offering him his own berth 
 for the purpose. The moment De Lacy was below, 
 Rory and Scrubbs were brought on board the lugger, 
 which put on every stitch of canvas she could carry, 
 and stretched away at a spanking rate for France. 
 
 But, sick as poor Rory was, his senses were suffi- 
 ciently about him to observe that they were removed to 
 a larger vessel ; and as he passed along the deck, he 
 heard the voice of De Welskein : this was enough for 
 Rory's enlightenment, and he became certain that De 
 Lacy must be on board. When conducted with 
 Scrubbs below, and placed there in confinement, the 
 
Rory O'More 377 
 
 excitement produced by this last discovery made him 
 rally against the sea-sickness more than he had hither- 
 to done, and in the intervals of the malady his head 
 was at work in planning by what means he could let 
 De Lacy know he was in the same ship. " Roaring 
 is no use," thought he, " for they make sitch a hulla- 
 baloo here, that one might roar their heart out and 
 never be heerd : for there is such thumpin' and bum- 
 pin', and crashin' and squashin', and rumblin' and 
 tumblin', and first up on one side and then down on 
 th' other, that I don't wondher they are roarin' and 
 bawlin' up there, on the roof over us." (The roof 
 was the name Rory gave the deck, because it was over 
 hie head.) " By gor ! I wondher how they howld on 
 there at all ! for here, even in this room, and indeed 
 there 's but little room in it, it 's as much as I can 
 do to keep my brains from bein' knocked out agin' th' 
 other side o' the wall sometimes : and how the dickins 
 can thim chaps keep from bein' thrown off the roof 
 and dhrownded ! only, as I said of thim before, thim 
 that 's born to be hanged " Here Rory's thoughts 
 were cut short by getting a jerk to the opposite side 
 of his prison and having another qualm of his new 
 malady. The wind had changed, and becoming ad- 
 verse, De Welskein was obliged to go about very 
 often ; and this produced so much delay, that their 
 course, which they were likely to run in twenty-four 
 hours had the wind held as it promised in the morning, 
 was not completed under two days. 
 
 At the close of the first day, the prisoners were 
 visited by a black, who, by order of De Welskein, 
 brought them something to eat : but the sight of food 
 only produced loathing. 
 
 " Ou be berry sick now, eh? " 
 
 " Oh, I 'm k'ilt ! " 
 
 " Take um lilly bit ; do um good." 
 
378 Rory 0' More 
 
 " Oh, take it out o' that, for God's sake ! " 
 
 " Berry nice ; um nice an' fat." 
 
 The name of fat was enough, and poor Rory was 
 set off again. 
 
 The negro laughed, as all sailors do at the suffering 
 of a novice to the motion of a ship ; and having had 
 his joke, he did not offer any more fat, but suggested 
 to Rory to take some brandy. 
 
 " Berry good for sea-sick." 
 
 " Oh ! let me die where I am, and don't taze me 
 so," said Rory. 
 
 " Nebber be sitch dam fool ! Brandy berry good ; 
 
 best ting um can take for sea-sick. Come, come, 
 poor lan'-lubber ! open im mout. Dere, ou dam fool ! 
 
 brandy berry good." 
 
 The drop of spirit Rory swallowed did him service; 
 and the black, who was a good-natured fellow, before 
 he left the prisoners, gave them both some brandy-and- 
 water ; and the dry and parching sensation which poor 
 Rory experienced, as well as his exhaustion, was much 
 relieved by the negro's recipe. 
 
 After some hours the negro came again : and 
 though Rory could not eat, he took some more of the 
 diluted spirit ; and that night he experienced some 
 sleep, after having had another talk with blackie. 
 
 The next morning, when Rory's sable friend made 
 his appearance offering some breakfast, the course of 
 the vessel was far smoother than it had hitherto been, 
 and Rory was better able to listen to the proposal of 
 eating. 
 
 "Try lilly bit, man," said the black. 
 
 " I 'm afeard a'most," said Rory. 
 
 " Nebber be 'fraid : ou not sick dis day, like oder 
 day ; him cheek not so white, him eye not so like 
 dead fish. Try bit, man ; berry good. Me know 
 *t is good me make it myself." 
 
Rory 0' More 379 
 
 " Why, thin, God bless you ! did you make it on 
 purpose for me ? " said Rory. 
 
 The negro grinned. " No, no, me not so good 
 to lan'-lubber as dat ! Me cook." 
 
 " Well, I 'm obleeged to you, any how. And 
 would you tell me, sir, if you plaze, is Misther De 
 Lacy well ? " 
 
 This was Rory's first thrust at his object. 
 
 44 Massa Lacy him gen'lman dat come wid cap'n 
 aboord ? " 
 
 " Yis, sir." 
 
 " Oh, him berry well now; lilly sick first; but 
 now smood water near de bay now. Me go give 
 him and de cap'n sometin' for brekf's soon. Take 
 nudder lilly bit, man." 
 
 " No, thank you, sir," said Rory. u And is it you 
 that is goin' to take the captain and Mr. De Lacy the 
 brequest ? " 
 
 "Iss. Me wait on um ; me de cook, black 
 man always cook." 
 
 "The devil sends cooks," thought Rory, and he 
 could not help smiling at the thought. 
 
 " What um laugh at ? " 
 
 " Why, I was laughin' to think how quare it is 
 that one may find a friend where they laste expect it, 
 and in the gratest sthranger. Give us a dhrop o' 
 brandy, if you plaze." 
 
 " Dere, man ; make um better." 
 
 " That 's a grate relief to me ! " said Rory. 
 " But, as I was sayin', how a man may meet a friend 
 in the gratest sthranger ! You Ve been mighty good 
 to me ; and I tell you what it is, I 'm behowlden to 
 you and obligated to you, and I 'm grateful to you : 
 and you must take a present from me, to show you 
 how sinsibie I am of your tindherness, for " 
 
 Here there was a call for " Scipion" 
 
380 Rory O'More 
 
 u Massa Cap'n call me," said Scipio. 
 
 " Well, give me your fist before you go," saio 
 Rory, who, when he caught the negro's hand said, 
 41 Gi' me these sleeve-buttons o' yours and I '11 give 
 you mine, and it '11 be a keepsake between us ; " and 
 with the words he unfastened the button from the 
 negro's wrist, and inserting in its place one of the 
 sleeve-buttons De Lacy gave him, the negro ran off 
 hastily to a second and louder summons from the 
 deck. 
 
 " Now," said Rory, " if Mr. De Lacy has the 
 luck to remark the sleeve-button in the blackey's shirt, 
 all 's right yet." 
 
 The negro was ordered to bring De Welskein his 
 breakfast, and De Lacy was sufficiently recovered by 
 their entering smooth water to join in the repast, and 
 was sharp-set, as men always are the first time they 
 are able to eat at sea. The negro set out the rough 
 sea-fare to the best advantage ; and as he held a dish 
 balanced in one hand on the edge of the table, while 
 he removed some plates that were opposite to De Lacy 
 to make room for it, De Lacy chanced to look at 
 what sort of fare was coming, and his eye caught the 
 sleeve-button, which he recognised as his own, and 
 the same he had given as a parting gift to Rory. 
 
 u Where did you get that ? " said De Lacy quickly. 
 
 " What !" said De Welskein, with a penetrating 
 glance of his dark eye, as he marked the hurried 
 question of De Lacy. 
 
 De Lacy was put on his guard by the jealous 
 quickness with which De Welskein noticed his words, 
 and said, "The beef where did you get that fine 
 beef?" 
 
 " Why, to bee sure, in Ireland : what ees to soor- 
 prise you so moshe ? " 
 
 " I thought you never had any but salted beef on 
 
Rory O'More 381 
 
 board," said De Lacy, who turned the conversation 
 directly into another channel, and as soon as the meal 
 was ended, went on the deck. There he saw they 
 were within a short sail of land, and while they were 
 approaching it, he mentally turned over the circum- 
 stance that had excited his notice, and was lost in 
 conjecture as to the means by which the negro could 
 have become possessed of the sleeve-button. He 
 gave it to Rory, at a distance of many miles from the 
 coast, two days before he embarked on board the 
 lugger, which is found at sea many leagues ; and there 
 one of these buttons is in the possession of a black 
 man aboard that lugger, and De Lacy did not remem- 
 ber the negro to be on board the fishing-smack. 
 
 There was a mystery in this ; and any mystery on 
 board De Welskein's boat respecting Rory, in whom 
 he was known to have such confidence, awakened 
 De Lacy's suspicions of some foul play to Rory. 
 But while he was on board the craft of the smuggler, 
 whom he knew to be a wily and desperate fellow, he 
 thought it advisable not to breathe a word nor exhibit 
 a sign of his misgiving ; and so, having run all this 
 over in his own mind, he walked up and down the 
 deck with seeming unconcern, and spoke to the 
 smuggler as if nothing had ruffled him. 
 
 As they doubled a small headland that shut in the 
 bay they were entering, De Lacy saw a frigate lying 
 in the harbour, and De Welskein said, "There is La 
 Coquette" 
 
 " Indeed ! " said De Lacy. 
 
 " Why does monsieur exclaim ? " 
 
 " Because, if that be the Coquette, the captain is 
 a friend of mine, and I will go aboard and see 
 him." 
 
 On nearing the ship, De Welskein's notion was 
 found to be correct it was La Coquette. The 
 
382 Rory O'More 
 
 lugger's boat was lowered, and De Lacy went up the 
 side of the frigate. 
 
 The captain was on board, and mutual kind greet- 
 ings passed between the two friends. After De Lacy 
 had given a hasty sketch of the state of affairs in 
 Ireland, and the motive of his present visit to France, 
 he told the captain the suspicions he entertained that 
 De Welskein had been playing a trick with a friend 
 of his, and begged his assistance in setting matters 
 right. 
 
 " Certainly ; but how ? " 
 
 " I suspect the fellow has secreted a man on board, 
 and I want to ascertain the fact and if so, to get 
 him out of his power." 
 
 " But why not order the rascal to give him up to 
 you before ? " 
 
 tl Monsieur le Capitaine forgets, on the deck of his 
 own ship, that 1 was only a passenger on board the 
 smuggler's boat ; and her captain is a very desperate 
 fellow when he chooses, so I thought it preferable 
 to say nothing until I could speak to some purpose. 
 Now, under the guns of the Coquette, Monsieur De 
 Welskein will be extremely polite when he knows her 
 captain is my friend." 
 
 u Oh ho ! is that the sort of gentleman ? we '11 
 soon finish this affair." 
 
 He ordered his boat to be manned directly, and 
 entering it with De Lacy, they pulled into the har- 
 bour, where the lugger had already dropped her anchor. 
 
 It was not long before De Lacy and the captain 
 were on board the smuggler. 
 
 " De Welskein," said De Lacy, " I want to see 
 Rory O'More." 
 
 "Rory O'More!" said De Welskein with well- 
 feigned surprise : " Monsieur must go back to Ireland 
 if he wants to see him." 
 
Rory 0" More 383 
 
 " No, no, De Welskein, he 's on board." 
 
 " You mistake, sir," said De Welskein : " what 
 can make you entertain such a suspicion ? " 
 
 " No matter what," said De Lacy, who did not 
 wish to bring the black man into trouble for being 
 accessory to the secret having escaped "but I 
 know he 's here." 
 
 " 'Pon my honour ! " said De Welskein theatri- 
 cally, and laying his hand on the place where his 
 heart ought to have been. 
 
 " Search the boat ! " said the captain sternly v o a 
 couple of his men who were on the deck bes\de 
 him. 
 
 De Welskein took off his hat with a prodigious 
 air to the captain, and said, " Monsieur should con- 
 sider I am commander here." 
 
 The captain laughed at his swagger ; but seeing 
 that several desperate-looking fellows crowded round 
 the hatches as if to prevent the search the captain 
 ordered, for he had but half a dozen men with 
 him, and the lugger was armed and powerfully 
 manned, he said in a decided tone to De Welskein, 
 "You are under the guns of my frigate : give up the 
 man you have concealed, or you shall be sunk like a 
 nutshell ! " 
 
 De Welskein saw there was nothing else for it, but 
 told De Lacy he considered it not treating him with 
 the respect one gentleman owed another, to interfere in 
 such a manner with his affairs. 
 
 De Lacy could only laugh at his impertinence. 
 
 De Welskein fell back from his dignity upon his 
 true resource impudence and reviling and swore 
 he was very sorry he took De Lacy out of Ireland, 
 and saved his neck, and so cheated the gallows of its 
 due. " But the next time you want me, you '11 find 
 me if you can ! " said De Welskein, strutting back 
 
384 Rory 0' 'More 
 
 to the stern of his boat, while Rory was walked up the 
 fore-hatchway. 
 
 It would be impossible to describe the scene that 
 followed, for Rory's wild delight at seeing De Lacy 
 and finding himself out of De Welskein's power is 
 past description. De Welskein stamped up and 
 down one end of the deck, while Rory danced on 
 the other. The French captain looked amazed 
 when he remembered that De Lacy called this man 
 his friend ; and supposing that none except a gentle- 
 man could be De Lacy's friend, he turned to him and 
 said, with the extreme of wonder in the tone of his 
 voice, " Are all the Irish gentlemen like him ? ' 
 
 " I wish they were," said De Lacy. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 CONTAINING MANY SAPIENT OBSERVATIONS ON 
 FRENCHMEN AND FRIGATES, ENGLISH SUBJECTS, 
 FOREIGNERS, ETC. 
 
 WHEN the captain had sufficiently satisfied his 
 wonder in looking at Rory's vagaries, he 
 ordered a return to the frigate. With what delight 
 did our hero jump into the boat of the Coquette ! 
 though he lost his footing when he alighted there, 
 and broke his shins as he stumbled over her thwarts. 
 " Bad luck to thim for boats and ships ! " said 
 Rory ; " a man ought to have the legs of a cat, to 
 keep his feet in thim." One of the sailors caught 
 hold of him, as he feared Rory would go overboard 
 from the rocking he caused in the boat, and desired 
 him to sit down. 
 
 " What 's that you say ? " said Rory. 
 
 " dsseyez-vous." 
 
 " You say what ? " 
 
 The sailor aga'n spoke ; and Rory called out to De 
 Lacy, who was coming over the side of the lugger, 
 " Arrah, thin, will you tell me what this fellow is 
 sthriving to say to me ? for the divil a word he spakes 
 I can make out ; and my heart 's broke with my shins, 
 that I cut over thim dirty little sates." 
 
 " He 's bidding you sit down," said De Lacy, " and 
 do so, or you may go overboard." 
 
 " Oh, that indeed ! " said Rory, sitting down. 
 " Sure, if he towld me that at wanst, I *d ha' done it : 
 
3 86 Rory O'More 
 
 but he wint jabberin' and mumblin', that I could n't 
 make him out." 
 
 " You forget he 's a Frenchman," said De Lacy. 
 
 " That 's thrue indeed, sir," said Rory ; " and it 's 
 wondherfui how hard it is for these furriners to make 
 themselves undherstud." 
 
 The boat was now pushed off; and Rory looked 
 up at De Welskein, who stood in an attitude of 
 theatrical defiance frowning over the quarter at the 
 whole boat's crew. Rory took off his hat, and, with 
 a mocking salutation to the smuggler, shouted out, 
 " Good mornin' to you, Mr. Devilskin." 
 
 De Welskein wrapped himself up in the dignity of 
 silence, and scowled after the barge, as she cleft the 
 waters, and cast a silvery ripple behind her, in her 
 course to the frigate, towards which the men pulled 
 swiftly ; and every bound she made to the strokes of 
 the bargemen seemed to excite Rory's wonder, until 
 he said to De Lacy, " What a lively craythur she is ! 
 one 'ud think she was alive a'most, she jumps so 
 sprightly ! " 
 
 " Wait till you get on board the frigate, Rory," 
 said De Lacy, " that 's what will surprise you." 
 
 u 'Faith, I 've been surprised enough where I was, 
 and I don't want any more o' the same. I thought 
 I 'd be turned inside out fairly ; and I suppose, if I 
 was so bad in a small ship like owld Divilskin's, that 
 a big one would kill me intirely." 
 
 De Lacy assured him to the contrary, and as they 
 approached the ship of war, pointed out to Rory her 
 noble form and fine proportions, her graceful bows, 
 her spreading yards and towering masts, and the 
 beautiful and intricate tracery of her various cordage. 
 
 " Is she not a beauty, Rory ? " 
 
 " Divil a beauty I can see in her, nor in one like 
 her ! " said Rory ; " for afther the tattherin' and taarin' 
 
Rory 0' More 387 
 
 I got comin' over the say, I '11 never say a good word 
 for a ship as long as I live, and indeed that would n't 
 be long if I was to be on boord ; and I hope, Mr. 
 De Lacy, it's not goin' you are to take up wid the 
 sayfarin' business." 
 
 "No, no, Rory, don't be afraid: I'm only 
 going to dine on board the frigate with my friend 
 here, who is her captain, and at night we '11 go 
 ashore." 
 
 " On the land is it ? Oh, God be praised ! but 
 it 's I '11 be glad." 
 
 " In the mean while, Rory, you will have time to 
 tell me how it came to pass that you were on board 
 the lugger." 
 
 " Not with my own will, 'faith, I can tell you ! " 
 
 " I thought as much : and was it De Welskein's 
 doing ? " 
 
 " Throth, I don't know, it was among thim all ; 
 but you see I had the misfortune to come across 
 that dirty Scrubbs, and " 
 
 " Stop, Rory," said De Lacy ; " here we are at the 
 ship's side you must give me your story in full 
 when we get aboard." 
 
 On reaching the deck of the frigate, Rory's wonder 
 was immense : the height of her masts, the mazes of 
 her rigging, her great size, and her rows of guns, 
 were, successively, objects of wonder to him, and a 
 tap on the shoulder from De Lacy was required to 
 arouse him from his state of entrancement. 
 
 " Well, by gor ! it is wondherful," said Rory : " I 
 own it." 
 
 u You shall see all the wonders of a ship of war by 
 and by," said De Lacy ; " but for the present, follow 
 me to the cabin, and tell me all the details of this 
 strange adventure of yours, which has carried you 
 over seas." 
 
388 Rory O'More 
 
 Rory followed him below, and related, at length, 
 the particulars of his meeting with Scrubbs his 
 becoming his guide, his freeing De Welskein and his 
 party from the vault, and their capture of the collector 
 and himself. 
 
 " And is Scrubbs a prisoner on board the lugger ? " 
 
 " Snug," said Rory. 
 
 " And do you know why all this has been done ? " 
 
 " Not a one o' me knows a word about it more 
 than I towld you." 
 
 " I am sorry all this has occurred I 'm afraid it 
 may do mischief in Ireland ; that such a rascal as 
 the smuggler should dare to interfere in such matters ! 
 
 't is too bad : I 'm verv, very sorry for this." 
 
 " So am I, 'faith," said Rory ; " and my heart 's 
 brakin' to think what the poor mother and Mary will 
 suffer, not knowin' one word about what 's become 
 o' me ! " 
 
 " This collector being taken away will make a 
 great noise," said De Lacy. 
 
 " Faix, he made a great noise himself when they 
 wor takin' him away ! And what do you intind to 
 do about him, sir ? " 
 
 u Nothing : it is not for him I care, but for the 
 mischief his disappearance will produce. But, since 
 they have taken him away, the matter is as bad as it 
 can be, for his being restored would not mend the 
 matter ; so they may do what they please with him. 
 
 But I want to consult with my friend here, Rory, 
 about the best way of providing for your removal on 
 shore." 
 
 " Sure you would n't send me on shore, sir, without 
 you were comin' too ! 'Faith, I 'd rather stay at say 
 with you, bad as it is, than be on land without you." 
 
 " I 'm not going to make a separation between us, 
 Rory," said De Lacy : " but, remember that we are 
 
Rory 0' More 389 
 
 on the shores of France, and your being a stranger, 
 and particularly an English subject " 
 
 " Is it me an English subject ? " 
 
 "Yes, are you not so ? " 
 
 " By Jasus I 'm not ! I 'm an Irishman, glory be 
 to God ! " 
 
 " Well, you 're a foreigner at all events." 
 
 " A furriner ! is it me a furriner ! arrah, Misther 
 De Lacy, what do you mane at all ? Sure you know 
 I 'm an Irishman, and no furriner." 
 
 " You are a foreigner here." 
 
 " 'Faith, I 'm not, it 's thim that 's furriners." 
 
 " Well, you 're a stranger, at least." 
 
 " That I '11 own to." 
 
 " Well, as a stranger in this country, it is necessary 
 to contrive some means of protection for you." 
 
 " Why^ do you think I 'm afeard ? is it afeard 
 of a parcel o' little Frinchmin I 'd be ? " 
 
 " Oh, they are not so little, Rory." 
 
 " Well, big or little, I don't value them a thraneen." 
 
 " I know you 're not afraid of any man, Rory : 
 but the protection of which I speak is regarding your 
 legal safety, for there are such things as laws, Rory." 
 
 " Divil sweep thim for laws! they're always 
 givin' people throuble, sir." 
 
 " That cannot be helped, Rory. The captain and 
 I must consult on the management of this affair, and 
 in the mean time I will put you into the hands of 
 a person who will show you all the wonders of the 
 ship ; and as you have never been on board a man-of- 
 war, it will amuse you.'.' 
 
 Rory, accordingly, was entrusted to a person whom 
 the captain ordered to the cabin, and to whose care 
 Rory was especially entrusted. 
 
 " You have no notion, Gustave," said De Lacy to 
 his friend when they were tete-a-tete^ "what a fine 
 
390 Rory O'More 
 
 fellow that is ! full of address, of courage, and 
 fidelity, with a love of country and a devotion to its 
 cause worthy of a hero ; and yet he is but a simple 
 Irish peasant." 
 
 " And are they all like him ? " 
 
 " He is a specimen of the best," said De Lacy : 
 u but, take them all in all, they are a very superior 
 people. And yet the Helot of the Spartan was not a 
 more degraded slave than the poor Irish peasant is 
 made by his task-masters : worse than the Helot ; 
 for he was a slave by the law of the land, and the 
 law which was cruel enough to make him so was at 
 least honest enough to avow it ; but the poor Irish- 
 man is mocked with the name of freeman while 
 the laws of the land are not the same for him as for 
 his more favoured fellow-subjects." 
 
 " That will soon be mended," said the captain, 
 " when the expedition is ready." 
 
 " I am delighted to hear you say," said De Lacy, 
 " that there is some appearance of action going 
 forward." 
 
 " There is a good deal of bustle in the marine, 
 at least," said Gustave ; " and some of our best line- 
 of-battle are fitting out in other ports, I understand." 
 
 u Good ! " said De Lacy. " I must hasten to 
 Paris, to lay before the Directory my report of the 
 state of Ireland, as well as for some more tender 
 affairs than armaments and invasions." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! Pour les beaux yeux de Mademoiselle" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Nothing like it ! " said Gustave : " love and war 
 for ever ! " 
 
 " A charming creature, Gustave ! Do you re- 
 member Adele Verbigny ? " 
 
 " Adele Verbigny ? " said the officer, repeating the 
 name in a tone that was not pleasing to De Lacy. 
 
Rory O'More 391 
 
 *' Why do you echo the name so ? " asked the lover. 
 
 " Merely from surprise," said the captain " for 
 I did not know you were tender in that quarter." 
 
 De Lacy said no more on the subject of his love, 
 for there was something in the manner of his friend 
 when he spoke of it that he liked not, too slight, 
 for words to define, but which the delicate percep- 
 tions of the lover are ever alive to as gunpowder to 
 the spark. Instead therefore of pursuing the tender 
 topic, De Lacy consulted with the naval officer the 
 best means of securing Rory's safety when he should 
 go ashore. " If he were near my own regiment," 
 said De Lacy, " I could manage it well enough, by 
 enrolling him in it : but as it is " 
 
 u Leave that to me," said the sailor : " if you 're 
 not with your regiment, I'm on board my ship, and 
 can arrange the matter for you." 
 
 " I can't let him remain here, man ami thanks 
 to you for your offer of protection, but I know it 
 would grieve him to be parted from me." 
 
 " I don't mean him to be separated from his friend," 
 said the captain. " He shall have a sailor's dress, and 
 a discharge from my ship as if he had been one of the 
 crew ; and that will be protection sufficient." 
 
 " Good," said De Lacy ; " nothing can be better." 
 And the captain gave orders for a suit of sailor's 
 clothing to be provided for Rory. 
 
 He in the mean time was being conducted over the 
 
 ship by the captain's appointed guide, who spoke some 
 
 half-dozen words of English, which he made go as 
 
 far as he could with Rory ; but that was not half far 
 
 enough, for the inquisitive spirit which prompted his 
 
 numerous questions was an overmatch for the English 
 
 of his cicerone. Whenever Rory could not get an 
 
 answer from him, he asked any one else who was 
 
 "near him ; and the strange position in which he 
 
 VOL. n. Q 
 
392 Rory O'More 
 
 found himself, for the first time in his life, amongst 
 his own species, yet without means of communing 
 with them, bothered Rory excessively : when he found 
 English fail, he tried Irish, which was equally un- 
 successful ; but still Rory did not give up the point 
 when English and Irish failed, he employed signs, 
 and he and the Frenchman became mutually pleased 
 with each other's expertness in pantomime. 
 
 On Rory's return to the cabin, De Lacy questioned 
 him as to his tour round the ship, with which Rory 
 declared himself to be much delighted. 
 
 " Did you ever see any thing like it before, Rory ? " 
 
 " Nothin', sir barrin' a bee-hive." 
 
 u How the deuce can you liken a frigate to a bee- 
 hive ? " 
 
 " Bekaze every corner of it is made use of, and 
 there 's sitch a power o' people in it, and every body 
 busy." 
 
 " Well done, Rory ! you 've made out your simile, 
 and you might carry it still farther : they can sting 
 sometimes, and are often killed by the burning of 
 brimstone." 
 
 " ' Faith, an' you 're right enough, sir, about the 
 Frinchmin not bein' sitch little chaps as I thought 
 they wor." 
 
 u You have seen some good stout fellows on board 
 this ship, then ? " 
 
 " 'Pon my conscience, very dacent boys ; and the 
 captain, there, is not an ill-lookin' man at all." 
 
 " What does he say of me ? " asked the com- 
 mander, who perceived by Rory's expression of eye 
 that he alluded to him. 
 
 De Lacy repeated to him exactly Rory's speech, 
 and the captain enjoyed it extremely. 
 
 "Then the French," continued De Lacy, "are 
 not exactly what you conceived them to be, Rory ? " 
 
Rory O'More 393 
 
 " No, in throth : I always thought, and I dunna 
 why, but I always did think, that Frinchmin was 
 dirty, starved 'ottomies poor little yollow go-the- 
 grounds, not the half of a man, but a sort of a spid- 
 hogue" 
 
 " And what 's a spidhogue, Rory ? " 
 
 " Why, I can't well explain to you : only, when- 
 ever one comes across a poor ill-begotten starved 
 spidher of a craythur, we call him a spidhogue." 
 
 The captain was much amused on hearing of Rory's 
 preconceived notions of Frenchmen, and his surprise 
 at seeing them other than he thought them ; and he 
 requested De Lacy to interpret to him the most of 
 his colloquy with the Irishman. 
 
 The day was passed pleasantly enough to all parties 
 on board the frigate ; and towards evening, De Lacy, 
 accompanied by Rory, attired in a sailor's dress, was 
 rowed ashore, where the shelter of a quiet inn was 
 sought for the night, and the next morning De Lacy, 
 obtaining passports for himself and Rory, set out for 
 Paris. 
 
 Rory's thousand and one strange observations as 
 they proceeded often raised a smile on the lip of 
 De Lacy, who, nevertheless, fell into trains of mus- 
 ing as he drew nearer to his Adele and conjured up 
 anticipations of their meeting. But, mingling in all 
 these dreams, was the remembrance of the voice of 
 his friend Gustave as he spoke of her; the tone in 
 which he echoed the name of Adele dwelt upon his 
 fancy and seemed of evil omen : it was the hoot of 
 the owl from the turret of his hopes. 
 
R 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 CUPID IN PARIS 
 
 OCHEFOUCAULD lays it down in his Max- 
 ims, that 
 
 " ON GARDE LQNG-TEMPS SON PREMIER AMANT QUAND ON 
 N'EN PREND PAS UN 'SECOND/' 
 
 Which may be thus freely translated : 
 
 Your first love most precious is reckon' d 
 Until you have taken a second. 
 
 And the same thing might be said of a glass of 
 claret ; the best judges of that cool and gentlemanly 
 beverage declaring you cannot get the taste of it 
 under half-a-dozen. Whether the comparison holds 
 between fits of love and glasses of claret as far as the 
 half-dozen, I leave to persons more conversant with 
 the subject and better able to decide. 
 
 The keen and sarcastic Rochefoucauld wrote max- 
 ims of which the world has taken great pains to prove 
 the truth. Whether Adele Verbigny was profound 
 in the " moral reflections " of the witty Duke, is little 
 matter ; but if she were <tf, then with her, intuition 
 superseded study. 
 
 When Horace De Lacy left Paris for Ireland, 
 pretty little Adele thought of him a good deal for 
 some time after, and even engaged on a piece of elab- 
 orate needlework to enscroll his name; which work, 
 
Rory 0' More 395 
 
 I believe, was then called u tambour : " perhaps I am 
 wrong, but, at all events, tambour-work would have 
 been very appropriate in any complimentary tribute 
 to a soldier's name. But, whatever it was called, the 
 work was begun ; and Adele used to sit for hours and 
 hours together, surrounded with long skeins of silk of 
 all manner of colours, and beads of all manner of 
 sizes, and gold thread, and Lord knows what else 
 besides ; and there was a certain laurel wreath to 
 encompass a scroll of the three letters she valued 
 most in the whole alphabet, namely, H. D. L. 
 they were the initial letters of her hero's name : and, 
 with a nice little bit of French and female ingenuity, 
 she contemplated the interweaving of smaller letters 
 after each initial, to express, as it were, the attributes 
 of her lover; so that the work when finished, would 
 give to those who would be at the trouble of hunting 
 the involved sentence through all its twistings and 
 twinings these words : 
 
 HONNEUR. DEVOTION. L'AMOUR. 
 
 She was enchanted at the thought, and worked very 
 industriously for three weeks ; but as she got on at 
 the rate of about half a laurel-leaf a day, there was a 
 good chance that a real tree might be grown in the 
 time it would take to make the needlework chaplet. 
 Nevertheless, on she went, and though the canvas in 
 the centre of her design was vacant, her imagination 
 filled up the space in the most beautiful colours, and 
 twistings, and curvetings, that needle or fancy had 
 ever worked or conceived, and she looked forward to 
 the pleasure of interlacing H. D. L. in some months, 
 and having the work ready to exhibit to her lover on 
 his return. As she worked her web, she thought of 
 Penelope and Ulysses : but, alas ! She and De Lacy 
 were not married yet ; and moreover, there were no 
 
396 Rory O'More 
 
 lovers to come and tease her from her fidelity. Now, 
 although the first part of the comparison did not 
 exist between her and Horace, the second part might ; 
 and Adele was such a classic creature, that she almost 
 wished to have the temptation of a lover, that she 
 might enjoy the triumph of fidelity. 
 
 It was too charming a thought not to be put into 
 execution, and Adele got herself up in the character 
 of Penelope. 
 
 Amongst those who indulged her in her classic 
 whim was one who was a great admirer of tambour- 
 work ; and moreover, he could thread her needles 
 admirably : this saved Adele time, and drew her 
 nearer to the delightful period when she might com- 
 mence the initial scroll of H. D. L. Then he sang 
 very pretty chansonnettes ; and they were so lively, 
 that Adele's pretty little fingers moved more merrily 
 to the measure and facilitated her work prodigiously. 
 They got on famously. Adele could not be so un- 
 generous as not to give a song sometimes in return : 
 but hers were always in the tender line, as they ought 
 to have been, because Horace was away ; there was 
 no unbecoming levity about them something in the 
 simple and tender style of 
 
 " Oiseaux, tendre Zephire, 
 Voulez-vous bien me dire 
 La cause de mes soupirs ? " 
 
 , to say nothing of the politeness of ^Voulez-vous 
 bien " to the birds. 
 
 Well, Hippolyte Delier for that was the name 
 of the needle-threader thought the tender songs of 
 Adele far more beautiful than his lively chansonnettes^ 
 and so he took to the oiseaux and tendre Zephire style, 
 and Adele declared 
 
 " She liked him still better in that than his own." 
 
Rory 0" More 397 
 
 And a thought occurred to them then, which they 
 both were surprised did not occur to them sooner ; 
 which was, that their voices would go so well together : 
 and so they took to singing duets and very nicely 
 they did them. 
 
 All this time the embroidery went on, and one day 
 the threads got entangled underneath the work, and 
 Hippolyte was asked for a helping hand to assist in 
 disengaging them ; and in doing so, their hands came 
 in contact under the frame very often, and Adele 
 never remarked before what a very soft, nice hand 
 Hippolyte possessed ; and, somehow or other, the 
 work was in such terrible entanglement, that their 
 hands went on poking and pulling for some minutes 
 without the extrication of either the threads or their 
 fingers, till at last Hippolyte fairly caught hold of 
 Adele' s hand and gave it a tender pressure under the 
 frame, while his eyes met hers over it. And very 
 pretty eyes Hippolyte had, and indeed so had Adele, 
 to do her justice ; and, with a look of the sweetest 
 reproof, she said, " //, done f " But it was singular, 
 from that day forth, how provokingly frequent the 
 entanglement of threads became, and how often 
 Hippolyte was called on to assist in disengaging 
 them. 
 
 What could come of poor De Lacy having such 
 a helping hand given to his piece of embroidery ? 
 Why, that Adele found there was not room for three 
 letters in the centre of her laurel-wreath ; and so, 
 instead of H. D. L., she could only entwine H. D. 
 How singular ! they were the initials of Hippolyte 
 Delier f 
 
 They could not help remarking the coincidence, 
 and the singularity too of his name, Delier, and he so 
 clever in unloosing entanglements. "He/as!" said 
 Adele sentimentally, "you have untied more than 
 
398 Rory O'More 
 
 threads," as Hippolyte knelt before her and declared 
 himself her adorer. 
 
 Madame Verbigny was of the same opinion as her 
 daughter in the business; for Hippolyte was on the 
 spot, and De Lacy was absent : 
 
 " Les absens ont toujours tort."' 
 
 Besides, De Lacy might be killed, and Adele lose a 
 match in refusing Hippolyte, who, as far as matches 
 were concerned in another point of view, was a better 
 one than De Lacy, for he had a strong friend in the 
 Directory, and was looking forward to promotion 
 beyond his present position, which was, even at the 
 moment, one more advantageous than that of a cap- 
 tain of grenadiers. 
 
 So Hippolyte was received as a declared lover, and 
 was sitting with the faithful Adele a few days before 
 their marriage, when, to Adele's unutterable surprise, 
 the door of the chamber opened, and De Lacy rushed 
 towards her with extended arms. 
 
 Adele screamed and fainted, and the two gentlemen 
 did all gentlemen could do to restore her. While in 
 her state of insensibility (feigned or real), the bearing 
 of Hippolyte was such as to make De Lacy wish he 
 would not take so much trouble ; and the sound of 
 his friend Gustave's. voice crossed his memory like an 
 echo from the nether world. 
 
 The first object that met Adele's opening eyes, 
 was De Lacy kneeling beside her. 
 
 " Adele my own Adele ! " said the soldier. 
 
 " How altered you are ! " said Adele, looking coldly 
 on his face. 
 
 " Altered ! " echoed De Lacy. " Good Heaven ! 
 Adele, are you altered ? " 
 
 " What a fright the smallpox has made of you ! " 
 said the Parisian. 
 
Rory 0' More 399 
 
 De Lacy felt as though a bolt of ice had been shot 
 through him, and gazing upon the woman he adored, 
 with a look that might have made the most callous 
 feel, he was about to speak ; but he had only uttered 
 her name, when Adele thought the safest game to 
 play was another faint, and screaming as gracefully as 
 she could, she dropped off again into speechlessness. 
 Her mother came to the rescue, and declared the 
 poor child's feelings would be the death of her some 
 time or other. 
 
 " Monsieur," said she to Hippolyte, " be so good as 
 to take care of her a few minutes, while I speak to this 
 gentleman:" and she beckoned De Lacy from the room. 
 
 What their conversation was, it is needless to 
 record ; but Rory O'More remarked on De Lacy's 
 return to the hotel, that his aspect betrayed deep 
 dejection ; while mingling with the sadness, traces 
 of fierce determination were visible. The eye was 
 clouded and the cheek was pale; but the knitted brqw 
 and compressed lips betokened a spirit brooding over 
 more than melancholy thoughts. 
 
 Rory could not repress his anxiety, and when De 
 Lacy had closed the door of his chamber, asked him 
 what was the matter. 
 
 De Lacy drew his hand across his forehead, and 
 paced up and down the room. 
 
 " I hope there 's nothin' found out, sir ? " said Rory. 
 
 " Found out ! " said De Lacy. " Yes, 'Rory, I 
 have found out something ! " and he shook his head 
 sorrowfully. 
 
 " Tare an' ouns ! I hope they 're not angry wid 
 you for bringin' me up here? Sure, if they wor, I 'd 
 quit this minit'." 
 
 "No, Rory, no. Ask me no more now: 'tis only 
 some private grievance of my own." 
 
 "Bad luck to thim for fretting you, and you comin : 
 
400 Rory O'More 
 
 all this way to see thim ! And won't they come over 
 to help us, afther all?" 
 
 "You'll know more to-morrow, Rory: leave me 
 for to-night. Be stirring early to-morrow morning, 
 for I shall want you." 
 
 Rory left the room puzzled and unsatisfied. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 SHOWING HOW NEW ENEMIES ARISE OUT OF 
 OLD LOVES 
 
 THE last chapter began with a maxim; and for 
 fear one chapter should be jealous of another, 
 this shall be headed with a maxim also : 
 
 WHEN A GENTLEMAN IS ROBBED OF HIS HEART'S TREASURE, 
 THE LEAST AND ALSO THE GREATEST SATISFACTION HE 
 CAN ENJOY, IS TO HAVE A SHOT AT THE FELLOW WHO 
 ROBS HIM. 
 
 And that is as good a maxim as ever Rochefoucauld 
 wrote. 
 
 Now De Lacy could not have a shot at Hippolyte, 
 because pistols were not the fashion in Paris in those 
 days for the settling of such affairs ; but he might run 
 him through the body with steel instead of lead : and 
 this difference in the exchange of the metallic cur- 
 rency in honourable commerce makes no difference 
 in the satisfaction which gentlemen either give or take 
 in such transactions. 
 
 On leaving the house of his false fair one, De Lacy 
 proceeded to find a friend to whom he might entrust 
 the business of inviting Monsieur Hippolyte Delier to 
 take a morning walk in the environs of the Place 
 Louis )uinze ; and there was little difficulty in the 
 search, for chance threw in his way a brother officer 
 who undertook the duty with alacrity. The meeting 
 was arranged, and the next morning De Lacy's friend 
 
402 Rory O'More 
 
 called upon him in his way to the place of rendez- 
 vous. 
 
 " Why have you this strange-looking sailor in 
 attendance on you ? " said Captain Sangchaud as he 
 looked at Rory in wonder when they turned into the 
 street. 
 
 De Lacy explained to his friend who Rory was, 
 and why he bore the habit of a sailor. " And my 
 object in making him accompany us is, that in case I 
 should fall, I enjoin you, Sangchaud, by our com- 
 .panionship in arms, to take care of him ; and if you 
 cannot get him back to Ireland, have him with you in 
 your own regiment, and a finer fellow you have 
 never known in your experience." 
 
 On getting a view of the Tuileries, Rory, who did 
 not interrupt the conversation hitherto, could not 
 resist asking De Lacy what was the name of the 
 building, 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Misther De Lacy, but whose 
 house is that ? " 
 
 " That was the king's house, Rory, and called 
 the Tuileries : it was a palace." 
 
 " A palace, is it, sir ? Dear me ! what a pity they 
 stinted it ! " 
 
 " Stinted, Rory ? Why, I think 't is large enough." 
 
 " Yes, it 's mighty big, but, sure, one 'ud think a 
 palace would be stinted in nothing;." 
 
 * O 
 
 "And in what do you think it stinted?" 
 
 " Bekaze, sir, it looks like as if there was a scarcity 
 o' stone when they built it, and a grate plenty o' 
 wood and slates ; for it 's mostly roof and windows." 
 
 " Come on ! " said Sangchaud : " we must be first 
 on the ground." 
 
 On reaching the appointed place, he drew a pair 
 of swords from a case which he had carried under his 
 arm j and on seeing them, Rory opened his eyes very 
 
Rory O'More 403 
 
 wide, and touching De Lacy on the elbow, he said, 
 " Tare an' ouns ! sir, what are you goin' to do ? " 
 
 " To fight a duel, Rory." 
 
 " A jewel is it ! to fight a jewel ! and you walkin' 
 as good friends with the man the minit before. Oh, 
 my God ! " 
 
 De Lacy could not forbear a smile at Rory's idea 
 that it was with his second he was going to fight, and 
 explained the matter to him. 
 
 " Well, it was no wondher I thought so, any how, 
 when I did not see any one else for you to fight with. 
 And what are you goin' to fight for, sir, if I might be 
 so bowld to ax ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell you now, Rory ; but I have 
 brought you with me to put you under the care of my 
 friend here, Captain Sangchaud, who will look to you 
 in case any thing happens to me." 
 
 " God forbid hurt or harm would come to you, 
 Misther De Lacy ! And to think o' me, too, when 
 your own life 's in danger ! Oh, God bless you 
 God bless you ! you 've the kind heart and the good 
 heart, and the divil a fear o' you in the fight, for the 
 angels will watch over you, that thought of watchin' 
 over me in the sthrange place." 
 
 De Lacy turned aside to hide the glistening of his 
 eye at the poor fellow's thought. 
 
 " Feel this," said Sangchaud, handing him one of 
 the swords. " Do you like it ? " 
 
 " Yes," said De Lacy, " this will do it is well 
 balanced : the blade is a little more bent than I 
 like." 
 
 " All the better in giving tierce over the arm," 
 said Sangchaud. 
 
 " I know 't is so considered by your most accom- 
 plished swordsmen ; but I would rather have this," 
 said De Lacy, handling the other sword and looking 
 
404 Rory O'More 
 
 along the blade. " They are both very good tools, 
 but this for me." 
 
 11 You 're wrong," said Sangchaud. " You fight 
 at a disadvantage with it, in comparison to that which 
 I hold. However, you '11 soon be able to judge for 
 yourself of the one you 've got, for I see our men are 
 coming. Will you have the blade I recommend ? 
 do." 
 
 " No," said De Lacy, "this is handier to me." 
 
 " Well, as you like ; but the other is far the more 
 killing of the two." 
 
 Hippolyte and his friend were soon on the ground, 
 and no time was lost in the parties engaging. Rory 
 was on the alert all the time, watching every thrust 
 and parry, and making exclamations as the various 
 vicissitudes of the combat suggested. Many a 
 " whoo ! " and " hurroo " he uttered whenever he 
 fancied his friend's adversary gave way ; and at length, 
 when he saw him manifestly stagger before a lunge 
 from his foe, he shouted, " By the powers, you 're into 
 him ! " 
 
 Delier had received a smart wound in the sword 
 arm, which rendered further fighting impossible; and 
 De Lacy and his second, making a formal salute to 
 the discomfited party, left the ground. 
 
 "Long life to you, sir!" said Rory: "sure, I 
 knew you 'd get no hurt; but, indeed, while you wor 
 poking at each other with them dirty little bits o' 
 swords, I was wishin' it was a taste o' blackthorn you 
 had in your fist ; for there 's more dipindince in it 
 than in one o' them little skivers." 
 
 " What ! wood against steel, Rory ! " 
 
 " Ay, indeed. I 'd never ask to ate another bit, 
 if I would n't give a fellow with one o' them toasting- 
 forks as fine a lickin' as ever he got, if I had a 
 choice bit o' timber about me." 
 
Rory O'More 405 
 
 Sangchaud all this time was tying up his swords ; 
 and when he had done so, he tucked them under his 
 arm in a very business-like manner, but did not seem 
 half satisfied. 
 
 " You 've but a poor opinion of my swordsmanship, 
 I see, Sangchaud," said De Lacy. 
 
 u No," answered the captain. " You made some 
 very pretty passes and parries ; but I wish your 
 adversary had taken a little more away with him." 
 
 " He has only got a flesh wound, 't is true," said 
 De Lacy. 
 
 " Yes," said his friend, " and that 's all because you 
 would n't fight with the blade I recommended. You 
 put in your thrust very well ; but that blade you 
 chose is the least thought too straight : if it had been 
 the other, you 'd have been under his ribs." 
 
 " Perhaps 't is better as it is," said De Lacy : " 1 
 have escaped having a death to answer for." 
 
 " Well, let us go to breakfast now," said Sangchaud. 
 " Nothing gives a man a better appetite than a little 
 morning exercise of this description." 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 SHOWING HOW USEFUL OLD LOVE-LETTERS ARE IN 
 COLD WEATHER 
 
 ON returning to his lodgings De Lacy found a 
 parcel directed to him lying on his table : on 
 breaking the seal he perceived the contents consisted 
 of his letters to Adele, under convoy of a note from 
 her mother. That philosophic individual wrote as 
 follows : 
 
 " Our affections are not our own. " 
 
 " No, indeed," thought De Lacy ; " they are any 
 body's who asks you for them." 
 
 11 My child has been influenced by the destinies which 
 
 rule the affairs of the heart. " 
 
 " When people behave so ill as to have no other 
 excuse, they always lay the blame on destiny," con- 
 tinued the lover. 
 
 " Sentiment to a woman, is what honour is to a man : 
 without it life would be worthless. 
 
 " Permit me to assure you 
 
 " Of the highest consideration of 
 
 " C. Verbigny." 
 
 " What folly and falsehood ! " exclaimed De Lacy, 
 as he crushed the scroll in his feverish hand, and 
 flung it from him. He then sat down, and looked 
 with mingled sorrow and humiliation on the pile of 
 papers which lay before him. There is not perhaps 
 any thing in this world produces a more painful feel- 
 
Rory O'More 407 
 
 ing than to contemplate the evidences of our former 
 affection returned to us in the moment of indiffer- 
 ence : Cupid does not like to eat his words, any more 
 than another gentleman. And in De Lacy's case it 
 was the more galling, for he still clung dearly to the 
 memory of his love though he loved no more. To 
 dissever the ties that hold the heart, leaves a pang 
 behind long after the blow has fallen ; for with one's 
 feelings as with one's nerves, a morbid action exists 
 after amputation. When a mutual mouldering of affec- 
 tion has taken place, and such tender mementos as 
 love-letters are returned, then, after the first gulp 
 you make to swallow your annoyance or your shame, 
 you can throw them into the fire to feed other flames 
 than those they were intended for; but where only 
 one party is untrue, how bitter are the records of 
 unrequited affection ! 
 
 Letter after letter De Lacy turned over and 
 sometimes, as a peculiar phrase, or place named met 
 his eye, the time and the circumstances connected 
 with them would arise, and his young heart had the 
 bitter experience to see fancy's fond creations crumble 
 before the withering touch of reality. And amongst 
 these papers were some poems. One in particular 
 caught his eye : it was a metrical trifle he had done 
 in some of his first hours of courtship, when, in 
 the light badinage that is employed in the earlier 
 skirmishes between beaux and belles, Adele answered 
 a charge of De Lacy's that she was fickle, by her 
 telling him that he was volage. " Do you not know," 
 said she, " what the weathercock said to the wind ? 
 Si vous ne changez pas^ je suis constante." 
 
 De Lacy was pleased with the conceit, and presented 
 her with a song derived from the subject ; and there 
 it lay before him, the evidence of his first hours of 
 love, surviving the passion whence it sprang. 
 
 VOL. II. IO 
 
408 Rory 0' More 
 
 THE WIND AND THE WEATHERCOCK 
 
 The summer wind lightly was playing 
 
 Round the battlement high of the tow'r, 
 Where a vane, like a lady was staying, 
 
 A lady vane perch' d in her bow'r. 
 To peep round the corner the sly wind would try : 
 But vanes, you know, never look in the wind's eye ; 
 And so she kept turning shyly away : ^ 
 Thus they kept playing all through the day. 
 
 The summer wind said, " She 's coquetting ; 
 But each belle has her points to be found : 
 Before evening, I'll venture on betting, 
 
 She will not then go, but come round." 
 So he tried from the east, and he tried from the west, 
 And the north and the south, to try which was best ; 
 But still she kept turning shyly away : 
 Thus they kept playing all through the day. 
 
 At evening, her hard heart to soften, 
 
 He said, " You 're a flirt, I am sure ; 
 But if vainly you 're changing so often, 
 
 No lover you '11 ever secure." 
 
 " Sweet sir," said the vane, " it is you who begin : 
 Whenj0# change so often, in me^t is no sin. 
 If you cease to flutter, and steadily sigh, 
 And only be constant I 'm sure so will I." 
 
 " She hath reversed the image," thought De Lacy, 
 sadly as he turned over the poem "a hard reverse 
 for me ! Oh, Adele ! thou wert better fitted to play 
 the weathercock, than I the wind ! for I changed 
 not, and thou hast turned. Thou hast, indeed, been, 
 la girouette ! " Still he pursued a revision of the 
 papers, and anguish ever sprang most keenly from the 
 word that had formerly given most pleasure : as 
 the same flower contains poison as well as honey. 
 
 He continued to lift letter by letter from the parcel, 
 until one met his eye on whose back the fair recipient 
 had been trying her pen ; and it was manifest the 
 
Rory O'More 409 
 
 experiment was made not in answer to one of his 
 letters ; for there stood in hateful evidence " mon cher 
 Hippolyte" 
 
 De Lacy sprang to his feet, stung to the heart by 
 this proof of worthlessness ; and as he clasped his 
 brow with the energy of agony, exclaimed, " and 
 could no other place be found to write his name than 
 on the letter / had written ! False one ! false one ! 
 Cursed be this evidence of my credulity ! Let it feed 
 the flames ! " and he flung it fiercely on the fire, and 
 continued one by one to throw others to the blaze, in 
 rapid succession, while he pursued his painful train of 
 thought. 
 
 "Who may believe a woman again? She whose 
 love made her eloquent, in whom passion was the 
 parent of poetry ; she who seemed to think not after 
 the fashion of ordinary mortals, but whose ideas ap- 
 peared to flow from an exhaustless fountain of fancy 
 over which purity held guardianship : she she to 
 prove false ! who a thousand times said, she desired no 
 happier fate than to share my lot, whatever it might be; 
 who would follow me to the camp or the battle-field, 
 the prison or the scaffold ! Oh ! Adele ! Adele ! " 
 
 His hand was arrested in the work of destruction, 
 by seeing the title of some verses he was about to 
 consume. 
 
 " The Land of the West."" 
 
 He paused ; " Ay, I remember ; here is what 
 my fond heart poured out when you said so." And 
 he bit his lip while he read 
 
 THE LAND OF THE WEST 
 
 Oh, come to the West, love, oh, come there with me j 
 'T is a sweet land of verdure that springs from the sea, 
 Where fair Plenty smiles from her emerald throne ; 
 Oh, come to the West, and I '11 make thee my own ! 
 
410 Rory O'More 
 
 I '11 guard thee, I '11 tend thee, I '11 love thee the best, 
 And you '11 say there 's no land like the land of the West ! 
 
 The South has its roses and bright skies of blue, 
 
 But ours are more sweet with love's own changeful hue 
 
 Half sunshine, half tears, like the girl I love best ; 
 
 Oh ! what is the South to the beautiful West ! 
 
 Then come to the West, and the rose on thy mouth 
 
 Will be sweeter to me than the flow'rs of the South ! 
 
 The North has its snow-tow'rs of dazzling array, 
 All sparkling with gems in the ne'er-setting-day : 
 There the Storm-king may dwell in the halls he loves best, 
 But the soft-breathing Zephyr he plays in the West. 
 Then come there with me, where no cold wind doth blow, 
 And thy neck will seem fairer to me than the snow. 
 
 The Sun in the gorgeous East chaseth the night 
 When he riseth, refresh'd, in his glory and might ! 
 But where doth he go when he seeks his sweet rest ? 
 Oh ! doth he not haste to the beautiful West ! 
 Then come there with me ; 't is the land I love best, 
 'T is the land of my sires ! 't is my own darling West. 
 
 The love of country expressed in the concluding 
 lines went to De Lacy's heart, and the sacred senti- 
 ment bore balm to the bosom of the deserted lover. . 
 " Yes," he said, " my country, all my love is now 
 yours ! False one ! false one ! " and he clutched all 
 the papers that lay before him, and flung them on the 
 blazing wood upon his hearth. " There there perish 
 those records of my folly and my faith. Worthless 
 woman ! thy foot, that I had 'hoped should have kept 
 pace with mine until they both tottered to the grave, 
 
 thy foot shall never press the green shamrocks of 
 my native land the land that shall soon, soon be free, 
 
 my own sweet Ireland, my own darling West ! ' 
 And, with an enthusiasm pardonable in his excited 
 mood, he kissed the words as he read them ; and fold- 
 ing the paper, he placed it next his heart, and said, 
 u Ireland ! now my love is all thine own ! " 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 THE DISAPPOINTED ENTHUSIAST COOLS DOWN, AND 
 RORY FALLS INTO A STRANGE RELIGIOUS ERROR 
 
 DE LACY quitted Paris in a few days, and has- 
 tened to the northern coast, where the army 
 was concentrating in great force, as it was believed, 
 to make a simultaneous invasion of England and Ire- 
 land as soon as winter was over. 
 
 The troops were often inspected by Napoleon 
 Buonaparte, to whom the Directory were anxious to 
 entrust some important command, to get him out of 
 Paris, for they dreaded the presence of the general so 
 near the seat of government, who, at that moment, 
 was the darling of the people, and little short of wor- 
 shipped, after his wonderful conquest of Italy. They 
 feared his towering temper and popularity might prove 
 inconvenient; for Buonaparte, just then, openly com- 
 plained of not being employed, and accused the Direc- 
 tory of being desirous of having him forgotten, for 
 no man knew better than he how short-lived is popu- 
 larity, and that any amount of fame becomes profit- 
 less which has not a periodical increase. And then 
 it was, his secret scheme for the conquest of Egypt 
 became engendered, and the gorgeous dream of found- 
 ing an Eastern empire opened on his daring and am- 
 bitious spirit. So, while he indulged the popular 
 belief that an invasion to the North was in prepara- 
 tion, his views and hopes were all directed to the 
 South. In the mean time, however, his visits to the 
 
412 Rory 0' More 
 
 Army of the North were continued, and the organisa- 
 tion of his forces was conducted on the shores of the 
 British Channel, where he knew their presence would 
 retain the English navy until the proper season arrived 
 for marching them to the coast of the Mediterranean, 
 where the absence of a hostile fleet was so important. 
 
 During the entire winter, De Lacy and Tone, and 
 other Irish emissaries looked forward to the opening 
 spring for the realisation of all their hopes and labours 
 in a descent upon Ireland ; but bitter was their dis- 
 appointment and deep their despair when the order 
 for the whole armament to march southward arrived 
 in the month of April. As yet it was unknown 
 what was the destination of the Army of the North ; 
 but it was enough for the Irish refugees to know it 
 was not for Ireland. De Lacy's heart sank ; as well 
 as those of others ; but sorrow soon gave place to 
 indignation when Tone informed him that he and 
 other Irish delegates had had an interview with Buona- 
 parte, and that every hope for Ireland was gone for 
 the present. 
 
 " You saw him, then ? " said De Lacy. 
 
 "Yes," answered Tone. 
 
 What did he say ? " 
 
 " Not much." 
 
 " The Corsican is short of speech," said De 
 Lacy. 
 
 " Yes," answered Tone ; " and I wish I could say, 
 in the idiom of our country, 4 short and sweet : ' but 
 it was far from that." 
 
 " What was the objection ? " 
 
 " Not one : there was no direct reason given 
 against the undertaking, but a manifest disinclination 
 to engage in it ; and it seemed to me there was some 
 hidden preference to some other enterprise which 
 usurped dominion over his wishes I may say, his 
 
Rory 0' More 413 
 
 reason, for he had not a shadow of argument to 
 advance for abandoning the Irish project." 
 
 " Did he say nothing ? " 
 
 " I wish he had said nothing, rather than what he 
 did say. If he had made a downright objection that 
 one could have met and argued out with him, I 
 would have been content and, I hope, content even 
 though I had been beaten in the argument. But no 
 not a word of argument, but what do you 
 think ? " said Tone, becoming excited as he spoke. 
 
 u I can't conceive," said De Lacy. 
 
 " Why, only fancy only imagine, De Lacy, my 
 indignation, when on my urging Ireland as an object 
 of importance, he replied, ' Ireland has done all for us 
 we can expect or want : she has made a diversion 
 in our favour.' By G d ! the very words ! 
 a diversion in our favour. Fancy this ! a diversion ! 
 Oh, my poor country ! that he who ought to fight 
 the cause of freedom, and has power to do so, should 
 give such an answer, and so treat a suffering people, 
 and make a diversion of you ! Curse him ! " 
 
 " It is too bad," said De Lacy : " but perhaps the 
 Directory " 
 
 " Are in the same cue," said Tone ; " they handed 
 me over to Buonaparte." 
 
 "Was there no word of argument for present 
 delay ? " 
 
 " Not one." 
 
 " Nor of future hope ? " 
 
 " Not a syllable : the laconic Corsican, after hav- 
 ing made his diversion of poor Ireland, gave us our 
 conge." 
 
 " This is very hard, after all the expectations 
 raised." 
 
 " Hard ! it is infamous ! " said Tone. " I can- 
 not forgive him for it and may just Heaven that 
 
414 Rory O'More 
 
 sees him turn unheedingly from the cry of a suffering 
 nation, throw the crime into the balance against him, 
 and may it weigh heavily ! Yes ! may he live to 
 remember and curse the hour he refused to make 
 Ireland his friend, and finds her his enemy ! " 
 
 The words were uttered with the fervour of 
 national indignation and the spirit of prophecy ; for 
 on the field of Waterloo, Ireland was his enemy, and 
 her son his conqueror. 
 
 The conversation was continued between Tone and 
 De Lacy in this spirit of bitterness and regret, until 
 Tone, having exhausted his fury and his lamentations, 
 retired. 
 
 When alone, De Lacy went over all the circum- 
 stances of his various disappointments since his return 
 to France, in a very disconsolate mood. u Is there 
 no truth, nor virtue, nor principle in the world ? " 
 said he to himself. " Here are those in power on 
 whose lips the word l freedom ' is the very janitor : 
 they open them but to breathe the blessed sound, and 
 yet the word is desecrated by their use of it ; they 
 refuse aid to the most injured and suffering people 
 on the face of the earth. Shame, shame ! they forget 
 the cause of freedom now, and substitute conquest in 
 its place. I fear me, it is not of peace and freedom 
 they think, but war and dominion : they seek less 
 to cultivate the olive than the laurel. Well I 
 suppose I am not the only disappointed enthusiast. 
 And then the new extravagance of the Directory. 
 When they were in their most formidable position, 
 they had a small room, with bare walls, a few chairs, 
 one table, a writing-desk, and as much pen, ink, and 
 paper as served them. But now, they have suites of 
 apartments ; and their banquets and assemblies are 
 conducted on a scale of lavish expenditure, resem- 
 bling rather the monarchy which has been over- 
 
Rory O'Mor.e 415 
 
 turned, than suited to the moderate measures of 
 republican resources. I fear me, there is more of talk 
 than reality in the patriotism and the freedom, the 
 virtue and the fidelity, the sentiment and sincerity, 
 of this headlong people. And yet they have done 
 glorious things deeds never to be forgotten! But 
 I fear success intoxicates those who rule in their 
 councils, and that the high and noble aspirations 
 which first achieved and maintained their liberty are 
 about to be lost in national vanity ; and, mayhap, 
 her victories, hitherto won in the fight of freedom, 
 may engender a thirst of glory, fatal to the cause 
 whence it sprang, and Liberty may yet perish under 
 the very arms she made victorious." 
 
 With the same spirit in which he viewed public 
 affairs he looked upon his private concerns. When, 
 he remembered all the vows and sentimentality of the 
 girl he loved so truly, and contrasted her falsehood 
 with his unpretending affection, he felt shame for her 
 unblushing frivolity and his own sanguine credulity. 
 In every way had his hopes been deceived ; and with 
 the sudden reaction to which enthusiastic natures 
 are prone, he began to distrust with as much haste 
 as he had believed, and disgust rapidly succeeded 
 admiration. 
 
 " In great things, or in small, they are alike ! " 
 thought De Lacy : " be it the destiny of a nation 
 or an affaire du coeur, 't is all the same you cannot 
 depend upon them." 
 
 So great did his repugnance become to joining the 
 army when its destination was not for Ireland, that 
 he determined to relinquish the profession of arms 
 for the present, rather than march to the South, and 
 preferred returning to Ireland, as best he might, to 
 remaining in the country where all his hopes had 
 been so grievously disappointed. It was in this 
 
416 Rory O'More 
 
 spirit a certain letter reached him, announcing the 
 dangerous illness of his only surviving uncle, and re- 
 questing his immediate presence. His relative resided 
 at Bordeaux, and De Lacy lost no time in obeying 
 the request conveyed in the letter, which was, at the 
 particular moment, in accordance with his ulterior 
 views, as Bordeaux was the most likely port whence 
 he could find his way back to Ireland. 
 
 De Lacy was well provided with funds; for his 
 uncle was a rich and also (as does not always happen) 
 a sensible man, and knew that a captain of grenadiers, 
 however well he might march, could not make his 
 way from Normandy to Guienne without money, and 
 the letter which demanded his presence also conveyed 
 the means of speedy conveyance thither. 
 
 It would be foreign to the main interest of the 
 story to dwell on the journey of De Lacy to Bor- 
 deaux, in the course of which the dozens of 
 44 wonders " per day which Rory uttered at every 
 thing novel which struck him would amuse, it is 
 true ; but as it would retard the direct course of the 
 narrative, it is better to post on to Bordeaux with as 
 little delay as possible. 
 
 When De Lacy reached that celebrated environ 
 which is to be for ever venerated as the birthplace of 
 the cool and fragrant wine so well calculated for those 
 who have plenty of money and leisure for, decidedly, 
 you must not hurry a man with his claret; when 
 he reached Bordeaux, I say, he hastened to the house 
 of his uncle, with that universal eagerness which 
 young soldiers generally exhibit to indulge the nepo- 
 tism of elderly gentlemen who have something more 
 than their blessing to leave behind them. 
 
 The disease of the uncle, though sure to terminate 
 fatally, was of a character to baffle medical skill in 
 predicting the length of its course, and the old man 
 
Rory O'More 417 
 
 lingered on with a tenacity of life which surprised his 
 physicians. 
 
 While he lay in this uncertain state, the news 
 reached France of the outbreak of the rebellion in 
 Ireland, and De Lacy's impatience to reach the scene 
 of action became extreme ; but his uncle's state of 
 health, as well as the old man's advice and requests, 
 forbade it. He represented that a single arm could 
 not strengthen the cause, and added his fears that 
 without foreign aid the struggle could not terminate 
 favourably to De Lacy's wishes, and in case of 
 failure, how much more prudent to remain absent 
 when the individual aid was so disproportioned to the 
 individual risk. 
 
 " Oh, if every one thought of risk, where would 
 all the boldest and noblest achievements of history 
 be ? " said De Lacy. 
 
 " Were you on the spot, my boy, I would not 
 counsel you to be a dastard : but as chance has so 
 ordered it that you are absent at the time, rush not 
 into such terrible peril. Besides, you are my only 
 living relation you must not leave me to die alone, 
 with stranger hands to close my eyes in a strange 
 land." 
 
 De Lacy returned the pressure of his uncle's 
 hand, but still he burned to be in Ireland at the 
 moment. 
 
 The eagerness was extreme with which he sought 
 for intelligence thence, through every channel inge- 
 nuity could suggest or money procure. Various and 
 uncertain were the rumours received at that distance 
 relating to the struggle, and his life was a state of 
 fever while it remained undecided. This lasted all 
 through the summer; but in the autumn intelligence 
 arrived of the total overthrow of the insurgents, and 
 his impatience was then changed to despair. Shortly 
 
418 Rory O'More 
 
 after, his uncle died, and De Lacy became the in- 
 heritor of his property. This was not large, for his 
 uncle's income was derived principally from mercan- 
 tile pursuits, and the realised wealth was not extensive, 
 the principal portion of it consisting of a small 
 property in Ireland, the proceeds of which reached 
 France annually by an agency communicating through 
 a neutral country. 
 
 This circumstance decided De Lacy in his course 
 of conduct. He determined to return to Ireland, re- 
 tire to his little property, form around him a circle of 
 dependants whom he should render faithful and at- 
 tached by kindness, and as the chance was past of 
 bettering their political position, he would at least 
 make their condition less wretched by affording them 
 the protection and relief of which he had witnessed 
 their want. If he could not prove a patriot on a 
 grand scale, he would become a benefactor on a small. 
 u And, after all," said De Lacy, " I have been so dis- 
 gusted with the show and not the substance of noble 
 feelings here, that I begin to doubt the possible ex- 
 istence of the state of things I have contemplated 
 or perhaps I had better say, dreamed of: my hopes, 
 like Astraea, must fly back to the heaven whence they 
 came, when the worthlessness of earth has affrighted 
 them -, and as I cannot achieve the freedom I desire 
 for my countrymen, I will return amongst them, and 
 at least make their condition more endurable by 
 spreading comfort and kindness as widely as I can 
 round my own immediate centre. And now, when 
 the supremacy of the dominant party is established, 
 perhaps their security may engender a forbearance to 
 their less fortunate fellow-subjects, which will render 
 society not so intolerable as when I left them ; and 
 if men cannot enjoy equal rights, they will at least be 
 permitted to live unmolested." 
 
Rory 0' More 419 
 
 It was with these moderate expectations De Lacy 
 looked forward to a return to Ireland, which he in- 
 tended to effect by the Swedish ship (early spoken of 
 in our story) which traded between Dublin and Bor- 
 deaux ; and having every thing in readiness for his 
 departure, he only awaited her putting to sea, to bid 
 an eternal farewell to France. 
 
 On the morning of their sailing, Rory, before em- 
 barking, went to one of the churches to offer up his 
 prayers for a safe voyage. The church was prepared 
 for one of .those fetes common at the time, when the 
 conscripts were presented with their arms by their 
 sweethearts, in presence of the assembled people, who 
 chanted the Marseillaise all the time, at the foot of 
 the statue of Liberty ; but Rory, never having seen 
 any such piece of business, did not know what the 
 garlands and banners meant, when he entered the 
 aisle early in the morning, long before the celebration 
 of the fete was to take place, and when he was the 
 only person present. 
 
 He looked about in wonder some time, and seeing 
 the statue of Liberty very magnificently decorated, 
 he thought it could represent no other than the Virgin 
 Mary ; and so Rory popped down on his knees before 
 the goddess of Liberty, and began to pray devoutly to 
 the holy Mother. While in the act of devotion, a 
 couple of soldiers strolled into the church, to see if 
 all was in proper cue for the approaching military 
 fete ; and seeing Rory on his knees before the god- 
 dess of Liberty, they thought him some fond enthu- 
 siast of the revolution, and exclaimed with delight, 
 " Ah ! que c*est drole! Ma foi, cest un brave garden 
 qui aime tant la libert'e quilse met a genoux a la d'eesse" 
 They approached Rory as they spoke ; but their ad- 
 miration was somewhat dashed when they saw him 
 bless himself, very devoutly making sundry crucial 
 
420 Rory 0" More 
 
 flourishes with his hand upon his breast and forehead 
 as he bobbed and ducked before the statue. 
 
 The soldiers then advanced in front of Rory, and 
 looking upon him with great contempt, exclaimed, 
 " Sacr'e sot f " and turned from him with disgust. 
 
 Rory, having finished his prayers, returned to De 
 Lacy, who immediately proceeded on board the vessel. 
 On asking Rory if he dreaded encountering the sea 
 again, Rory answered, " Not in the laste, sir, for I 
 seen the Virgin Mary this mornin'." 
 
 " Saw who ? " said De Lacy in wonder. 
 
 " The Virgin Mary, sir." 
 
 De Lacy could not help laughing at the serious 
 way in which the absurdity was uttered by Rory, 
 who, not relishing his mirth, said, 
 
 "Sure, sir, is it laughing at me you 'd be for sayin' 
 my prayers ? " 
 
 "Certainly not; but you tell me you saw the 
 Virgin Mary." 
 
 " And so I did, and said my prayers foreninst her 
 in the big church : and why would n't I, and we 
 goin' on the wide say ? " 
 
 De Lacy now laughed more heartily than before, 
 while he told Rory that it was the Goddess of Liberty 
 he had been praying to instead of the Virgin. 
 
 " You don't tell me so ? " said Rory, with horror in 
 his looks. 
 
 " Indeed 't is true." 
 
 "Oh God forgi' me ! if it 's a sin ; but sure I 
 thought it was the Queen iv Heaven herself, and I 
 ax her pardon for mistakin' their dirty haythinish god- 
 dess for her ; but, sure, I hope it 's no harm, since it 
 was done undher a mistake." 
 
 " Don't be uneasy, Rory," said De Lacy, who 
 saw he had distressed him by his laughter ; " I hope 
 the prayer that is offered to Heaven in purity of 
 
Rory 0" More 421 
 
 heart, will find its way there, before whatever altar 
 it is breathed." 
 
 With such tolerant sentiment did De Lacy go on 
 board, committing himself to the care of that Provi- 
 dence in whose unlimited mercies and protection he 
 reposed his faith. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 A MYSTERIOUS MEETING 
 
 AND now our story must return to Ireland. A 
 period of a year had nearly elapsed since Rory 
 had left its shores ; but how fearful was the history 
 those few months left behind ! too fearful to be 
 touched on here, too tempting to the passion of 
 party, or too forcibly appealing to the gentler feelings 
 of human nature, for mortal pen to be trusted with. 
 It might be a " recording angel " alone that could 
 write of that period ; and oh : how much must she 
 weep over as she recorded, and well if it could be 
 blotted out for ever. It was the awful year of 1798, 
 whose acts seemed the work of fiends, and whose 
 records are but of blood. 
 
 In the autumn of that year the insurgents were 
 dispersed, with the exception of a few scattered 
 parties of the most desperate, who still kept the fast- 
 nesses of the hills, or held out a miserable and hunted 
 existence in the bogs. It was in the dusk of an 
 evening, at this period, that Mary O'More had a 
 message conveyed to her through an old beggar- 
 woman, stating, " that if she would go to a certain 
 place, alone, she would meet a person to give her 
 tidings she would be glad to hear." 
 
 The woman endeavoured to excite Mary's curiosity 
 still further ; but, in such unsettled times, to go alone 
 was a service of more danger than she had courage 
 to look calmly upon j for though a girl of a bold and 
 
Rory O'More 423 
 
 high spirit, she never recovered the shock which her 
 rencontre in the glen of the Folly had produced. 
 " Could not the person come to her, whoever it was ? 
 if he or she wished her well, they would not object to 
 do so." 
 
 " Maybe they can't." 
 
 " An outlaw it is, then ? " 
 
 " Not that ; but must n't come into the village." 
 
 u They shall suffer neither hurt nor harm, if they 
 come to our place." 
 
 "No; you must meet the person." 
 
 " I 'm afeard of some plot." 
 
 " I tell you, child," said the woman, " and I swear 
 to you by the blessed vestments no harm is meant 
 you." 
 
 " Then tell me who it is." 
 
 " I 'm bound not." 
 
 " I 'm afeard," said Mary, hesitating. 
 
 " Then you won't hear of it : maybe you '11 be 
 sorry." 
 
 " I can't be sorry for what I don't know." 
 
 " Maybe there 's thim you 'd like to hear of ? " 
 
 " Is it poor Conolly ? " said Mary, who, though 
 she never loved, felt a deep interest in the faithful 
 friend who had assisted her and her mother, however 
 he could, after Rory had disappeared, and who was 
 amongst those who were outstanding with the rebels : 
 not that he had committed any acts of brutal aggression, 
 but some daring deeds he had achieved during the 
 insurrection had marked him for vengeance from the 
 other party. 
 
 " There 's thim you loved betther than you loved 
 Conolly," said the beggar-woman. 
 
 Mary blushed, and thought of De Lacy, and, 
 ashamed of the thought, was glad the twilight forbad 
 the mendicant seeing the evidence on her cheek ; for 
 
 VOL. II. II 
 
424 Rory O'More 
 
 all unconsciously had the poor girl dwelt on the 
 remembrance of him (a remembrance rendered doubly 
 dear by its being associated with recollections of her 
 brother), and had read over and over again his books 
 that he had given her, and recorded in her memory 
 his courtesy and gentle bearing, until, under these 
 influences of heart and mind, an effect was wrought 
 
 * O 
 
 upon her of which she herself knew not half the 
 strength. 
 
 " Suppose you could hear something of him ? " 
 
 " Who ? " said Mary. 
 
 " Suppose your brother " 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Mary, clasping her hands in 
 wonder. 
 
 " Suppose Rory was " 
 
 " Gracious God ! is he alive ? " cried the agitated 
 girl, laying hold of the speaker. 
 
 " You may hear something about him you '11 be 
 glad of: will you go now ? " 
 
 u Any where," said Mary, with courage which the 
 hope of such news inspired ; " but if you deceive 
 me " 
 
 " I 'm not deceivin' you." 
 
 " You 're a woman, and should not betray one of 
 your own sex." 
 
 " I tell you, Mary O'More, you 're safe if you 
 follow me." 
 
 " Then lead on where you like," said Mary ; 
 "and I'll follow." 
 
 The beggar-woman walked rapidly away from the 
 village; but instead of going down the street, she 
 struck into a path which lay behind the Widow 
 O'More's cabin, and led to some solitary upland 
 beyond it. 
 
 It is necessary here to explain that the Widow 
 O'More and her daughter were not now living in the 
 
Rory O'More 425 
 
 snug cabin where first the reader knew them. That 
 had been burned during the rebellion, and then its 
 inmates removed to the village. Kathleen Regan 
 too, and her mother, were driven from their home 
 about the same time, for Shan Regan had been long 
 a defaulter in the payment of his rent ; and when the 
 affair in the glen of the Folly obliged him to fly, in 
 consequence of the magisterial search after him, 
 matters got more involved ; for his poor mother 
 knew not what to do, and was nearly heart-broken at 
 her son's misconduct ; and when the rebellion broke 
 out, and Regan was known to be amongst the most 
 lawless of the insurgents, the landlord visited the 
 crimes of the child on the parent, instead of the sins 
 of the fathers being visited on the children as the 
 Decalogue declares. But this was not the only 
 instance in those terrible times of men's actions being 
 at variance with Holy Writ. 
 
 Under such circumstances, when these two suffer- 
 ing families found themselves deprived of their natural 
 homes, and the men who were their natural protectors, 
 they agreed to reside together; and, as the open 
 country was dangerous, they went into the village, 
 and lived, if not in safety, at least in companionship. 
 
 On reaching the upland, the mendicant stopped 
 near the edge of a narrow road which led over the 
 hill, and, from its great age and long wear, formed 
 a sort of covered way : here she stopped and gave 
 a loud cough by way of signal ; it was immediately 
 answered, and a man emerged through the hedge that 
 fringed the embankment of the road, and approached 
 the spot where Mary stood with her guide. On his 
 getting nearer, she perceived it was the old tinker 
 who approached, and recoiled at the recognition, but 
 her guide assured her she had nothing to fear. 
 
 The tinker approached Mary with the greeting 
 
426 Rory 0' More 
 
 that denotes good faith, and expressed his gladness 
 she had come, as he had much to say of consequence 
 to her ; he then asked her to remove from her guide 
 a sufficient distance to be out of hearing. 
 
 " Can't you say what you have to say before her ? 
 I don't like her to leave me." 
 
 u Come away a few ste"ps, my poor colleen" said 
 Solomon, with more gentleness in his voice than 
 Mary had ever heard before. " Don't be afeard, 
 there 's no harm comin' to you." 
 
 "You won't go far from us," said Mary to the 
 beggar-woman, for even in her whom she had never 
 seen before she felt more of fellowship and protection 
 than in the old tinker, whom she always disliked ; 
 and, since the day she last had seen him at the glen 
 of the Folly, his image was associated with all that 
 was revolting to her feelings. 
 
 " We are far enough away now," said Mary to 
 Solomon ; " I won't go another step, and whatever 
 you have to tell me, tell me at wanst." 
 
 " Well, thin," said Solomon, " I brought you here 
 to tell you that Rory 's alive." 
 
 " Oh holy Mother ! " exclaimed Mary, dropping 
 on her knees, and bursting into a flood of tears. 
 
 u There, there! now don't be foolish, colleen; he's 
 alive, and " 
 
 " Where ? where ? tell me where for the love o' 
 God ! " 
 
 " Aisy, aisy. Wait and I '11 tell you. Now, first 
 and foremost you must know, that it was Shan Dhu 
 was at the beginnin' and end of it all, and I 've nothin' 
 to do wid it, but havin' had the bad luck to know iv 
 it ; and for that same I 've been hunted up and down 
 the country ever since, and would have towld you 
 afore, only I dar n't show my face. But you see it 
 was lyin' heavy an my conscience all the time ; and 
 
Rory O'More 427 
 
 now I run the risk o' bein' taken up, and hanged 
 maybe, all for the sake o' settin' your mind at aise, 
 and taking the weight av my heart." 
 " But where is Rory ? " 
 
 "Indeed, he's in France, I b'lieve, at laste he 
 was carried off along with the collecthor; but he 
 was n't murthered, as you thought." 
 
 " Solomon ! " said Mary, impressively ; " by your 
 hopes of mercy on your dyin' day ! and you're not 
 
 far off the grave, owld man " 
 
 " Whist, whist ! " interposed Solomon ; " don't be 
 sayin' that." 
 
 " Oh, sure we 're all nigh death every minit, if it 's 
 God's will ; but I charge you not to put false hope 
 into a sisther's heart." 
 
 " It 's thruth," said Solomon ; " and more than 
 that I 've to tell you. Shan Regan is in the hills 
 hidin', and a few blackguards like himself along wid 
 him; and I hear he intinds.makin' an offer for takin' 
 you off." 
 
 " May the Lord pity me ! " said Mary. 
 " But don't be afeard," added the tinker ; " if 
 you '11 only do my biddin'. You saved my life beyant 
 in the glen, and I don't forget it to you, colleen agra ; 
 and so I kem to tell you the thruth about Rory, and 
 make your heart aisy : and if you'll only go along 
 wid me to the magisthrit, I '11 swear it all agin Regan ; 
 and moreover I know where he 's hidin', him and his 
 morodin' vagabones, and I '11 lade the sojers on thim 
 sly, and have thim all taken and hanged like crows, 
 for indeed the gallows is greedy for thim." 
 
 " Let us go now," said Mary ; " Misther Dixon's 
 is not over a couple o' miles." 
 
 " Too late to-night, colleen, with the martial law out ; 
 we had betther both keep unknownst for to-night ; 
 but to-morrow mornin' I '11 be wid you, and go to 
 
428 Rory 0' More 
 
 the magisthrits. So now away wid you home, and 
 plaze God you '11 see Rory yet ; and yourself will be 
 the safer from harm the sooner Shan Dhu is taken 
 care of. Good night to you, colleen! Rimimber 
 to-morrow mornin' I '11 be wid you." And the old 
 tinker vanished through the hedge ; while Mary 
 O'More rejoined the mendicant, who had remained 
 near the spot, and in her company returned to the 
 village. 
 
 Let it not be supposed it was any compunctious 
 visiting of the old tinker's conscience urged him to 
 the disclosure he made to Mary O'More, or that it 
 was any feeling of tenderness towards the girl, or 
 compassion for her sufferings, which operated upon 
 him. In this, as in all the other actions of his life, 
 Solomon sought his own advantage. 
 
 To explain this, it becomes necessary to revert to 
 the period when Solomon fled with his money-bag 
 from the glen of the Folly, and left Mary O'More to 
 the tender mercies of Shan Dhu. Having escaped 
 the observation of the huntsmen, and got clear of 
 Regan, he concealed his treasure in a new hiding-place, 
 of which none were cognisant but himself and the 
 stars. This being effected, his next object was to 
 keep out of Shan Dhu's way ; but, in a day or two, 
 he found another and more extensive cause for con- 
 cealment in the search the officers of justice were 
 making through the country, after Mary O'More's 
 depositions respecting the scene she had witnessed in 
 the glen. Solomon continued to effect concealment 
 with success, until the rebellion broke out, and, while 
 that raged, the authorities were engaged in wholesale 
 business, and did not attend to such paltry details as 
 delinquent tinkers ; but, when the insurrection was 
 quelled, Solomon had his two sources of apprehension 
 opened upon him afresh j for government was in a 
 
Rory 0' More 429 
 
 very hanging humour for less than what Solomon was 
 suspected of, and he had got a whisper that Regan, 
 who still held out in the hills, had said, " he wished 
 he could come across the tinker ; " and Solomon best 
 knew why. " If he could lay his hands on me," said 
 Solomon to himself, " he'd thry and get the goold out 
 o' me ; and if I did n't tell him where it is and 1 
 wouldn't he 'd murther me with the rage : and sup- 
 pose I did, maybe he 'd murther me too ; but, any 
 how, I think it 's not good for my health that 
 Regan 's alive ; and why would n't I sthrive to save 
 my own life ? so wid the blessin' o' God, Shan Dhu, 
 my boy, I '11 have you in the stone jug as soon as I 
 can, and dancin' on nothin' afther." 
 
 It was with this view he sought Mary O'More, and 
 aroused her fears respecting Regan's intention of 
 carrying her off, and her hopes regarding her brother. 
 He induced her to go with him to the magistrate, 
 and depended on her friendly presence as a protection 
 to him on this occasion j and as he should not only 
 reveal the circumstances of the kidnapping of the 
 collector, whose disappearance he should represent 
 himself as being an unwilling witness of, but also vol- 
 unteer to lead the military to the retreat of a party of 
 desperate rebels who still committed many robberies, 
 he trusted thus to procure his own pardon and pro- 
 tection, and at the same time secure the death of the 
 man he dreaded most Shan Regan. Such was the 
 web the old spider wove. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 CONTAINING SOLOMON'S EXAMINATION AND ITS 
 RESULTS 
 
 IT was quite true, the intelligence the old tinker had 
 heard respecting Regan's intention towards him. 
 From the day he had escaped out of the glen of the 
 Folly with his money, Regan had in vain endeavoured 
 to find out his places of retreat; but, Shan himself 
 being a refugee at the time, his means of acquiring 
 information on the subject, and putting his wishes 
 into effect, were so circumscribed, that Solomon had 
 escaped all harm from his designs. Could he have 
 laid hold of the tinker during the period of his hiding 
 himself after the abduction of the collector, it was his 
 intention to have endeavoured by force to wring some 
 of the hidden gold from old Solomon, and by its means 
 to procure his flight from the country ; but the period 
 of the rebellion gave him other hopes, and, trusting to 
 the success of the insurrection for his ultimate safety 
 and plenty of plunder, the tinker was free from his 
 evil intentions ; but when total defeat had driven the 
 last desperate remnant of the rebels into the fastnesses 
 of the mountains and their bogs, his thoughts again 
 reverted to Solomon and his hidden treasure ; and the 
 same desire of possessing it returned, in the hope of 
 its enabling him to get a passage to America, and he 
 used every means within his power to discover where 
 Solomon might be seized, while the tinker, at the same 
 time, was meditating how to compass the death of 
 
Rory O'More 431 
 
 Regan. Thus were they worthily engaged in plot- 
 ting each other's destruction : one of the thousand 
 examples that, while the friendships of the good 
 strengthen with age, the attachments of the profligate 
 and base have the elements of ruin in their very 
 foundation ! 
 
 The tinker was true to his appointment with Mary 
 for the following morning; and they proceeded in 
 company to the house of Mr. Dixon, where Solomon 
 made his depositions before that magistrate, to the 
 effect stated in the foregoing chapter. Solomon's dis- 
 closure being so long withheld, threw much suspicion 
 on his testimony ; the more so, as he himself was an 
 accused person by Mary O'More's previous deposi- 
 tion made some months before ; yet, even if he were 
 guilty, Mr. Dixon was glad to take him as king's 
 evidence, for the discovery and punishment of others. 
 On his being questioned why he did not make the 
 disclosure sooner, he said he dreaded the vengeance 
 of those who had accomplished the act, in case he 
 should divulge it. "Yet," said Mr. Dixon, "you 
 let an innocent man suffer under the imputation of 
 having committed a murder for some time. You 
 knew this poor girl's brother was accused of having 
 murdered Mr. Scrubbs." 
 
 " Yis, sir ; but sure, when the colleen afther that, 
 swore agin me, that I had a hand in makin' away wid 
 Rory O'More, and I was obleeged to hide for my life, 
 sure I was afeard even thin to come and clear myself; 
 and it 's only now, when yiz. have got the fellows 
 undher that was disturbin' the country, that I ventured 
 to come, for my life would n't be safe to do it afore." 
 
 " I think it very extraordinary an innocent person 
 should hesitate to give himself up." 
 
 " Sure I am givin' myself up, now." 
 
 " Yes, after a year ; but, if you were free from 
 
432 Rory O'More 
 
 guilt, you would have done it sooner. Now take 
 care you swear the truth; because, even if you are 
 guilty, you shall have pardon for turning king's evi- 
 dence and bringing the other guilty parties to justice. 
 So do not, through any fear for your own life, give 
 false evidence." 
 
 " I '11 swear the thruth, sir, and nothing else." 
 
 " Do you swear then, positively, the collector was 
 not murdered ? " 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " And that he has been only taken over sea ? " 
 
 " Yis, sir." 
 
 " And that no other violence was done him ? " 
 
 "Yis, sir." 
 
 " Then how came you and Regan by the money 
 this girl saw you dig up in the glen ? " 
 
 " Oh ! that was a thrifle I saved, sir, and put there ; 
 and Shan Dhu wanted to take it av me." 
 
 " Saved ! you save ! was it much ? " 
 
 "Oh! how could a poor owld craythur like me 
 save much ? it was only a few shillin's." 
 
 " And yet this girl says, he was going to murder 
 you for that money. Now, would a man murder for 
 a few shillings ? " 
 
 " There was no more upon my oath." 
 
 " Are you quite sure ? " 
 
 " In throth I am." 
 
 " Where is that money at present ? " 
 
 " Och now ! thin and sure Shan Dhu run afther 
 me that same day, and cotch me in the wood, and tuk 
 it all away from me." 
 
 " Will you swear positively you did not rob the 
 collector ? " 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " Nor see him robbed ? " 
 
 " He was not robbed, I '11 give my oath." 
 
Rory 0' More 433 
 
 u And Rory O'More, you say, also is gone with 
 him ? " 
 
 He is." 
 
 " Was Rory O'More of your party ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Mary ; " no, no, your honour ! " 
 
 " Silence, girl," said the magistrate ; " it is not you 
 who are under examination. What do you answer?" 
 added he to Solomon. 
 
 " He was not, sir." 
 
 " How came he there then ? " 
 
 Solomon described the circumstances of Rory's un- 
 fortunate adventure at the Folly, with the liberation 
 of De Welskein and his party ; and for once in his 
 life did justice to O'More in relating his gallant de- 
 fence of the collector, and his own fate in consequence. 
 As to the tinker's presence there, he told a long rig- 
 marole so involved in parenthesis and digression, that 
 the magistrate could make nothing of it, which was 
 exactly what Solomon wanted ; and he concluded by 
 declaring " it was all along o' that vagabone Regan 
 that inthrapped him into it, by way of goin' to a 
 party." 
 
 Though Mr. Dixon had every suspicion of Solomon 
 as far as the story concerned himself, yet there was 
 an appearance of truth about the tale as it bore on 
 Rory's adventure almost inducing him to give it cre- 
 dence ; but his mind, strongly preoccupied with the 
 generally-received false impressions on the subject, 
 now found the truth difficult of belief, and mystery 
 had hung so long over the affair, and made it doubt- 
 ful whether Rory was a murderer or a murdered man, 
 that this sudden resurrection of him and clearance of 
 his character from stain required more respectable 
 evidence than the tinker's to obtain credit. 
 
 " And you say this Shan Regan is the guilty 
 person ? " 
 
434 Rory O'More 
 
 " Yis, sir; and is in the hills at this present with 
 some vagabones like himself; and I '11 swear it all 
 agin him, and show the sojers the way to the place 
 where he is, and he may be nabbed as aisy as kiss 
 hand." 
 
 " Very well ; but you must remain in custody until 
 you prove what you 've sworn to." 
 
 " To be sure, your honour's worship ; for now I 've 
 no business to be seen out afther tellin' all this, 
 and I 'd rather be in the jail for the safety." 
 
 " You shall be taken every care of after you return 
 with the military party from the hills." 
 
 " God bless your worship's honour ! sure they 'd 
 murdher me if I was cotch ; but suppose they did, 
 itself, my conscience is aisier than it was for many a 
 day, afther swarin' the thruth agin that black villain 
 Regan." 
 
 No time was lost by Mr. Dixon in summoning a 
 military party from a regiment in the neighbourhood, 
 to make a capture of the rebels. This detachment 
 was commanded by late Ensign, now Captain Daw, 
 for his regiment had been very much cut up during 
 the rebellion ; and Death happening to make his 
 choice from among the sensible men of the corps, 
 Daw got promotion. In addition to the soldiers, 
 some of the yeomanry cavalry, under the command 
 of the bold Captain Slink (De Lacy's acquaintance), 
 put themselves under arms to assist in cutting off the 
 retreat, if necessary, of any fugitive rebels ; and the 
 combined forces marched for the mountain pass, 
 under the distinguished guidance of Sawdherin' Solo- 
 mon. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 THE ATTACK ; SHOWING HOW DIFFERENT IS THE 
 CONDUCT OF SOLDIERS AND YEOMANRY, in THE 
 BATTLE AND after IT 
 
 IT was one of the wildest passes of the hills the in- 
 surgents selected for their stronghold. It chanced, 
 on the day the military party marched against them, 
 that these fellows had made a larger muster than usual 
 to hold a council on their affairs ; for being hemmed 
 in more than ordinary, they wanted to break away 
 from their present cover, and take up a position in 
 another range of mountains some miles distant. They 
 usually kept together in parties of three or four, the 
 more easily to effect concealment, and had their points 
 of occasional meeting understood among themselves ; 
 but, in the movement they projected, it was necessary 
 to make a combined effort, and for such a purpose 
 they had. met in this pass, which Solomon found out 
 to be the spot Regan had made his place of refuge. 
 
 Living the hunted life they did, the outlaws exer- 
 cised the greatest watchfulness ; and on this day, while 
 the majority of the men held their council under the 
 screen of some bold rocks, imbedded in heather, there 
 were scouts posted at such points as commanded a 
 view of the circumjacent hills and the country below, 
 to give the alarm in case of the approach of enemies. 
 They had not been more than half an hour in con- 
 clave, when one of the scouts ran in and told them he 
 suspected the approach of the military. Every man 
 
436 Rory O'More 
 
 was on his legs in an instant, and looked to the prim- 
 ing of his piece ; for they were all well armed, and 
 tolerably provided with ammunition, which their 
 friends in the low-lands contrived to procure and 
 leave for them in secret appointed places : in this way 
 also were they provisioned. 
 
 Jack Flannerty, one of the heroes of the Folly, as 
 the reader may remember, and Regan, were principal 
 amongst the outlaws ; so they went forth to recon- 
 noitre in the quarter whence the scout announced the 
 hostile approach, and, after some ten minutes' obser- 
 vation, were enabled to discover the nature of their 
 foes, and make a tolerable guess at their number. 
 They then left their sentinel still on the watch, and 
 returned to the main body of the men to communicate 
 the news and arrange a plan of defence. 
 
 " Are they yeos l or reg'lars ? " asked one of the 
 rebels. 
 
 " 'Faith, they 're reg'lars, sure enough ; but not 
 over twenty, or thereaway." 
 
 " That 's as much as we are ourselves." 
 
 "Well," said Flannerty; "and who cares? Sure 
 we have the advantage o' the ground, and the knowl- 
 edge iv it, and that's more than a match for them. 
 Never mind ; if we don't lick them : we'll sarve them 
 the same sauce we sarved the Anshint Britons, divil 
 a man o' thim will go home ! " 
 
 "But Regan says there is cavalthry as well." 
 
 41 And what if there is?" said Flannerty; "sup- 
 posing it was rale cavalthry, what good are they up 
 here ? but it 's not ; it 's onlv the yeomanthry, that 
 you might bate if you had nothin' but sticks." 
 
 Silence now ensued for a few minutes, while the 
 men watched the approach of the soldiers as they 
 wound through a little road at the foot of the hills. 
 1 Yeomen or regular troops. 
 
Rory 'More 437 
 
 On their arriving at a certain point, and quitting the 
 road for a path, Regan exclaimed, " See that ! By the 
 'tarnal, they 're comin' up the right way into the pass ! 
 Some one must be wid 'im that knows." 
 
 " What will we do now ? " said Flannerty ; u we 
 can't have a slap at thim over the bank in the deep 
 road below." 
 
 " Thin we must go higher up the pass, Jack, where 
 the cavalthry can't come at us, and murdher the sojers 
 the best way we can." 
 
 " The yeos is sticking to them still." 
 
 " Well, they can't come beyant the grey stones ; 
 at laste they won't, you may be sure, for they are 
 mighty proud of a whole skin : they '11 come as far as 
 they have a road behind them to run back, but divil 
 a taste farther." 
 
 In a few minutes more the horsemen halted, and a 
 seeming consultation ensued between the officers ; 
 after which, the infantry advanced up the heights, 
 which became more steep and broken every hundred 
 yards. 
 
 " Did n't I tell you the yeos would lave the busi- 
 ness to the sojers ? Now, boys, do you all fall back 
 higher up there in the pass; and, though you lie hid, 
 keep a good open, all o' yiz, for the muzzle of the 
 gun, and a sharp eye on the sojers ; and let the man 
 that is farthest up the pass level at the foremost sojer, 
 and the man that is nighest to thim at the hindmost, 
 and so you won't throw away your fire, by two shoot- 
 ing at one man ; and we '// hide here ; just six iv uz : 
 and when they have passed about forty yards or 
 thereaway, we '11 slap at thim in the rear, and that '11 
 make thim turn ; and the minit you see thim turn, 
 put the fire into thim immediantly at th' other side, 
 and you '11 see how they '11 stagger ! Away wid you, 
 boys!" 
 
438 Rory O'More 
 
 The plan was instantly put in practice ; the princi- 
 pal part of the outlaws were perched on each side of 
 an abrupt and very narrow rocky gorge, defying any 
 regular assault, of troops, and admirably suited to the 
 purposes of the marksman, besides affording that per- 
 fect concealment suited to a surprise ; while Regan 
 and Jack Flannerty, with four of the most desperate 
 of their companions, crouched amongst the rocks and 
 heather at the entrance of the pass. Jack Flannerty 
 had his eye fixed on the advancing party with the 
 eager keenness of a hound, and said quickly to Regan, 
 who lay beside him, " Eook for a minit ; do you see 
 nothing among the sojers remarkable?" 
 
 Regan was not so sharp-sighted as his companion, 
 and answered, " No." 
 
 " There 's a man in the middle o' thim that 's not 
 a sojer," said Flannerty ; u whisht ! by the 'tarnal, 
 it 's that owld villain Sawdherin' Solomon! " 
 
 "Solomon !"said Regan, looking out eagerly; "so 
 it is, the gallows owld thraitor ! " 
 
 " I '11 shoot him through the grey plottin' head, the 
 villain," said Flannerty, " when I fire." 
 
 " No," said Regan, who thought at the moment of 
 the secret of the tinker's treasure dying with him : 
 " don't shoot him we '11 ketch him and give him a 
 death fitter for a thraitor like him ; don't shoot him, 
 Jack." 
 
 " I won't, thin," said Flannerty. " Whisht ! lie 
 close, boys ; they 're comin'." 
 
 The party of soldiers drew near the pass, with 
 Solomon in the centre, who urged Captain Daw not 
 to march his men in a body, but to " scatther them," 
 as he said ; " for you don't know how 'cute these 
 chaps is at a namplush" 
 
 But the captain thought it would be a very pretty 
 story, indeed, if it ever could be said he took instruc- 
 
Rory 0' More 439 
 
 tions from a tinker ; so on he went, without even the 
 precaution of a couple of men in advance or in the 
 rear. The lieutenant ventured to remark to the cap- 
 tain, that the gorge they were going to enter was an 
 ugly-looking place, and asked, should he send a couple 
 of men forward. 
 
 " I can command it, sir, if I think it necessary," 
 said the bold captain. The words were scarcely out 
 of his mouth, when the discharge of the half-dozen 
 fowling-pieces in their rear knocked over as many 
 soldiers ; the men instinctively turned to fire in the 
 direction whence the shots came, but, before they 
 pulled a trigger, the ambushed party in the gorge put 
 in so murderous a volley, that the soldiers were quite 
 staggered, and returned it almost at random. Daw 
 became bewildered, and the lieutenant suggested fall- 
 ing back, as they were manifestly entrapped into an 
 ambuscade. The captain gave his assent, and the 
 men very willingly went to the right-about ; but here 
 they were met by Flannerty and his desperadoes, who 
 arose from their places of concealment with a wild 
 shout, which was answered by the party in the gorge ; 
 Solomon clung closely to the captain when he saw 
 Regan amongst the assailants, and the military party 
 began to retire as fast as they might in tolerable order. 
 Regan, seeing Solomon so nearly within his grasp, 
 jumped from an overhanging rock, and rushing upon 
 him, caught hold of part of his dress, and was dragging 
 him back from the captain, of whom Solomon kept 
 an iron grip. The captain fancied this was an at- 
 tempt to rescue from his hands the old rascal who 
 had led him into an ambuscade, and, though still in 
 bewilderment from the suddenness of the surprise his 
 party had sustained, his courage would not brook 
 such an insolent attempt at defiance ; and turning 
 boldly on Regan, he ran him through the body with 
 
 VOL. II. 12 
 
440 Rory O'More 
 
 his sword. Regan fell with a sharp gasping cry, and 
 the soldiers came to a rally in tolerable order when 
 they saw their captain turn and defend himself. Re- 
 gan, after a writhing plunge upon the ground, raised 
 himself on his elbow while he drew a pistol from 
 his breast, and levelling it at Solomon, gasped out, 
 " H 11 to your sowl ! " as he fired it ; but his aim 
 was untrue, and the ball intended for the old villain 
 entered the head of poor Daw, who measured his 
 length on the heather. Regan grinned like a demon 
 upon the tinker, who stood riveted to the spot in 
 terror; and Shan Dhu, gurgling up the words " Blast 
 you ! " fell back to speak no more. 
 
 The outlaws in the mean time had reloaded their 
 pieces ; and put in a second volley which committed 
 dreadful havoc. This destructive fire occurring the 
 moment after their captain fell, the soldiers became 
 panic-struck, and made a hurried retreat. 
 
 " Come along, you old scoundrel ! " said the lieu- 
 tenant, laying hold of Solomon by the collar, and 
 dragging him down the hill as he hurried after his 
 men. The rebels pursued the fugitives for some 
 minutes ; but seeing them fall back upon the support 
 of the yeomanry, who were numerous, they returned 
 to their mountain fastness, unwilling to hazard the 
 loss of the success they had already achieved, and 
 which to them at this moment was of much import- 
 ance ; for it would enable them, under the alarm 
 which the repulse of the military would produce, 
 to retire unmolested from their present hold to the 
 stronger chain of adjacent mountains. 
 
 When the soldiers rallied upon the support of the 
 yeomanry, the lieutenant addressed Captain Slink, 
 and requested his aid in returning to the pass : but 
 this was a matter the yeomanry captain thought worth 
 thinking of twice; as the rush of the men down the 
 
Rory O'More 441 
 
 hill, their diminished number, their wounds, and the 
 blood of the lieutenant himself, tinging deeply a 
 handkerchief he bound round his arm as he made his 
 request, appealed strongly to a certain tender Scrip- 
 tural recollection the captain had about " his days 
 being long in the land ; " for though he had no father 
 nor mother to " honour," inasmuch as the former 
 was a small lord of great patronage who quartered 
 his unacknowledged relations on the public purse, 
 and his mother, therefore, could not be honoured, yet 
 as the land had something worth remaining in, for 
 him, he thought it would be, in more ways than one, 
 a tempting of Providence to put his life in jeopardy : 
 besides, as the captain had a very exalted idea of the 
 comfort of a whole skin, he considered the proposal 
 of the lieutenant one of those wild and ill-tempered 
 suggestions a beaten man will sometimes make at the 
 moment he is smarting under defeat. 
 
 " My dear sir, don't be rash," said the captain ; 
 " you seem to have had a very warm reception 
 already." 
 
 " Yes, d n them ! " said the lieutenant bitterly ; 
 " but you see they have retired upon seeing your 
 support of us, and if you will return with me and my 
 remaining men, we shall chastise these rebel rascals 
 yet." 
 
 " I really cannot, sir, in conscience, risk the lives 
 of so many gentlemen." 
 
 Here one of the corps put in a word : 
 
 " I 'm sure, Captain Slink, if you think it right, 
 we are all very ready." 
 
 u By no means, gentlemen ; your courage is too 
 well known to require any proof on this occasion ; 
 and I 'm sure it would only be making a sort of 
 unhandsome reflection on the conduct of the gallant 
 men who have suffered to-day, if we were to admit 
 
442 Rory O'More 
 
 even the supposition that we could succeed where 
 they have failed." 
 
 " Sir," said the lieutenant, "our failure was attrib- 
 utable solely to a successful ambuscade prepared 
 for us." 
 
 " An ambuscade ! " exclaimed the captain in tri- 
 umph : " my dear sir, say no more ; that 's quite 
 enough : there was one piece of advice which my 
 friend, Captain Skurry, of the Skurry Horse, used to 
 say to me, c My dear Slink, never go near an 
 ambuscade. When you see your enemy in an am- 
 buscade, let him alone. ' 
 
 The lieutenant looked at the captain with mingled 
 feelings of contempt and wonder at his cowardice and 
 ignorance, and only added, 
 
 u Well, sir; I shan't ask you to pursue the rebels; 
 but at least support me and my men in recovering 
 the body of our captain who has fallen in the affair." 
 
 " Indeed, upon my word and honour I won't ; 
 that 's the very place them rascally rebels would be 
 waiting for you : don't think I '11 help you to run any 
 more risks to-day." 
 
 " Sir, I don't like leaving the body of our late 
 commanding officer on the ground." 
 
 "My dear sir, what harm can he come to, and he 
 dead ? if he was alive, indeed." 
 
 " He may be, sir, although he has fallen," said the 
 lieutenant. 
 
 " Not he indeed : they always pike every body, 
 them vagabone rebels, the minit they fall ; I know 
 them better than you, sir." 
 
 " Even as a point of honour, sir, I do not like 
 leaving the body of a king's officer in the hands of 
 such miscreants, and I request your support." 
 
 " Oh, if you talk about honour, that 's another 
 affair ; and upon my honour, if it was a point of 
 
Rory 0' More 443 
 
 honour, I would be as ready as any man to do my 
 outhermost in the business ; and if we were fighting 
 with regular troops, the real thing, you know, the 
 Simon Pure, I 'd do all that could be done : but 
 you see, my dear sir, these dirty blackguards is not to 
 be treated like gentlemen, and I would not indulge 
 them by letting them see they gave me any concern." 
 
 The lieutenant, perceiving it was useless to urge 
 his suit any further in this quarter, turned to his men, 
 and said, " You won't leave your captain behind you, 
 boys ? " 
 
 The men returned a fierce " No : " it was not a 
 cheer, their recent defeat had taken that out of 
 them ; but given, as it was, with something between 
 a growl and a bark, there was the tone of determina- 
 tion in it which assured their officer in leading them 
 once more up the pass. 
 
 " I leave this old scoundrel in your care," said he, 
 to the yeomanry captain ; " you can take care of him 
 at least : " and, with this contemptuous farewell to 
 the cavalry, he gave the word " Forward ! " 
 
 There was no opposition to the soldiers in their 
 backward march, which was conducted with more 
 caution than under the command of the foolish officer 
 whose rashness had caused their defeat, and whose 
 life had paid the forfeit of his indiscretion : he still 
 lay where he had fallen, and had not been piked, as the 
 heroic yeomanry captain prophesied. Nor was there 
 any savage post mortem disfigurement on any of the 
 fallen soldiers. " We cannot remove all our dead 
 comrades at present," said the lieutenant, " but let us 
 bear home our captain ; " and the remains of their 
 former commander were carried back by the brave 
 fellows, who would not desert him, even in death, to 
 where the horsemen still awaited them ; and, on 
 rejoining the troop, the lieutenant showed no inclina- 
 
444 Rory 'More 
 
 tion to hold any further converse with such a pack 
 of poltroons. 
 
 But the captain was not to be put off so : he con- 
 gratulated him on recovering the body of Captain 
 Daw, as they marched homewards ; and, in answer 
 to the lieutenant's remark that the rebels had not 
 piked a fallen enemy, he replied it must have been in 
 consequence of their having seen his corps of yeo- 
 manry so near, which forced them to a precipitate 
 retreat. " For I assure you, sir, they dread us ex- 
 ceedingly : we flog and hang the rascals every day 
 we catch them ; and I will say, without fear of con- 
 tradiction, that our corps has done more in the pitch- 
 cap and tar and feathering line than any other in 
 Ireland." 
 
 "Very likely, sir," said the lieutenant coldly. 
 
 " But in this instance, the affair of to-day, I 
 mean, you know I would not have been justified 
 in any rash or hasty movement ; life, sir, life is a 
 precious thing, life is a thing not to be trifled with, 
 particularly by one of his majesty's justices of the 
 peace, who has such matters in charge." 
 
 " As far as you are concerned, sir," said the lieu- 
 tenant, " I am sure it will be taken every care of." 
 
 " Certainly, sir : I respect the laws, and life and 
 property ; and why should n't I ? By-the-by, if 
 you come over to my place any day, nothing would 
 give me greater pleasure : there is always something 
 ready, and soldiers are not particular; pot-luck is 
 always open to you at Slinkstown, and you shall have 
 a skinful of claret at all events." 
 
 All these proffered civilities of the hero, who 
 wanted to court the soldier's favour, were but coldly 
 received by the lieutenant, whose contempt for his 
 cowardice was too great to be so easily overcome ; 
 and the captain had the conversation very much to 
 
Rory O'More 445 
 
 himself as they made their way to the low-lands. 
 There, meeting a peasant driving his horse and car 
 laden with unthrashed corn, the warlike justice of 
 the peace stopped him, and declaring the fatigue of 
 carrying home the captain's body too much for the 
 soldiers, ordered the peasant to back and unload his 
 car, and bear the body to the town, which was the 
 contrary direction to that in which he was going. 
 
 u What am I to do with the corn, your honour ? " 
 said the peasant timidly. 
 
 " Back it down on the road-side there," was the 
 answer. 
 
 The poor peasant scarcely ventured to look as if he 
 thought it hard to throw down his corn in the open 
 road, much less dare to speak an objection to the 
 order ; and unloosing the cords which bound the pro- 
 duce of his toil to his car that was bearing it to 
 market, he was obliged to scatter his little harvest on 
 the highway, and waste that which God had given to 
 the living, for the service of the dead. 
 
 The lieutenant had remonstrated against this meas- 
 ure but the justice was inexorable. 
 
 The body of the captain was laid on the car, a 
 sheaf of corn being strewn beneath him ; strange 
 association of the sword and the ploughshare ! 
 
 The car having been thus appropriated, the party 
 moved onward ; and the lieutenant's moodiness hav- 
 ing increased, the justice addressed him in a cheering 
 tone : 
 
 " Come, sir, don't be down-hearted : 't is a sad 
 sight, to be sure, to see your comrade going home 
 stiff; but at the same time, lieutenant, remember 
 promotion is the life and soul of the army, and this 
 will be a step for you." 
 
 Such a remark, with the dead body of his fallen 
 comrade before him, was so disgusting, that the 
 
146 Rory O'More 
 
 soldier made no reply, rather than the one which his 
 feelings would have prompted : so the justice pro- 
 ceeded : 
 
 "Very natural: "of course you'd be sorry for a 
 brother officer, you '11 miss him at mess to-day. By- 
 the-by, the last time I saw him at dinner was at 
 Slinkstown ; he had his legs under my mahogany 
 last week, poor fellow ! it 's oak they '11 be under 
 next." 
 
 With a running fire of such sentimental conversa- 
 tion, did the noble captain persecute the lieutenant on 
 their march ; and, when his sentiment became ex- 
 hausted, he took a turn on military affairs. 
 
 " By-the-by, in the midst of our engagement, I 
 forgot to ask you exactly how this d d affair took 
 place to-day. Strange mistake of poor Daw to let 
 himself be trapped : an ambuscade, you say ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Ah, no good military man ever gets into an 
 ambuscade : as my friend Captain Skurry used to say, 
 4 The moment you see your enemy in an ambush, 
 have nothing to do with him.' Poor Daw ! very 
 rash." 
 
 " He certainly was not a coward" said the lieuten- 
 ant, in a tone that might have touched a nicer sense 
 of hearing than Captain Slink's ; " and, as for his im- 
 prudence in this affair, the blame is very much les- 
 sened, when we remember he was led into the snare 
 by the very person on whom he relied for guidance." 
 
 " How do you mean r " 
 
 " I mean that old scoundrel, in advance there 
 among my men, led us into the trap." 
 
 " You don't mean to say the tinkering vagabon' 
 played false ? " 
 
 " I do though." 
 
 w My dear sir, why did n't you tell me this 
 
Rory O'More 447 
 
 before ? " Then, raising his tone to the pitch of 
 military command, he cried " Halt ! " The party 
 obeyed, " Why did n't you tell me this sooner ? 
 and I would have hanged the old villain on the spot : 
 however, we can do it now. I say, you old scoun- 
 drel ! " cried he to Solomon ; " come here, you d d 
 rebel ? you treacherous tinkering traitor! " 
 
 Solomon looked round in much alarm at the tone 
 of this address ; and when he saw the menacing 
 actions which accompanied the words, his heart sank 
 within him. 
 
 " Get that rope ready," said the justice, pointing to 
 the one which had secured the load of corn to the 
 car. 
 
 " You don't mean to hang the man now ? " said 
 the lieutenant. 
 
 " Don't I ? " said Captain Slink ; " he 's not the 
 first I 've hanged at a short notice, nor won't be 
 the last, please God ! that 's the way to quiet the 
 country." 
 
 " I think it will be better to march him into the 
 town, and give him a court-martial before he 's 
 hanged : he deserves hanging certainly, and I have 
 no doubt will be hanged, but it will be more regular 
 to try him first." 
 
 " Pooh ! " said the justice, " try him indeed ! we 'II 
 try if he 's proof against hemp, that's the way to 
 try rebels." 
 
 All this time Solomon stood trembling and unable 
 to speak ; but when two of the yeomanry corps ad- 
 vanced to lay hands on him, he made a gasping cry 
 for mercy, and, having once gained the power of 
 speech, addressed the lieutenant, and appealed to him 
 for protection. " Sure, what would you hang me 
 for ? did n't I bring you to the place ? " 
 
 " The less you say the better," said the lieutenant : 
 
448 Rory O'More 
 
 "you brought us into an ambuscade, and you must 
 answer for it ; but you shall have a court-martial." 
 
 " I '11 hang him on the spot," said the captain. 
 
 " I request you will not be precipitate, sir," said 
 the lieutenant. 
 
 " Oh Lord ! oh Lord ! " screamed Solomon ; " and 
 sure, did n't you see that they cotch me, and wanted 
 to murdher me for bringin' you on thim ? " 
 
 " They caught you, certainly," said the lieutenant, 
 " to get you out of my hands when you had betrayed 
 us : and it was in preventing your rescue our captain 
 fell. So, say no more about your innocence : but you 
 shall not die here ; you shall have a fair trial before a 
 court-martial." 
 
 " I say, he shall die on this spot ! " said the justice. 
 
 " I would beg to represent to you, sir, that this 
 man is the prisoner of my party; and as you have 
 had no share in the loss, I think you are premature 
 in the punishment. Let the man be tried : I have 
 no doubt he will be condemned to death ; but let him 
 have at least a trial." 
 
 u You say yourself he deserves hanging, and, 
 by the living G d ! I '11 hang him up like a dog." 
 
 u Suppose, sir, I don't choose to give him up to 
 you ? " 
 
 "I tell you what it is, sir! " said Slink, whose 
 savagery increased whenever he could sniff blood with 
 impunity " you seem to have been taking airs on 
 yourself all day, and forget I am a magistrate, and 
 that it is, in fact, under my authority you are acting 
 at this minute ; and I warn you, sir, on pain of my 
 complaint against you to your commanding officer, 
 not to interfere with me in this affair." 
 
 All this time Solomon, whose face was the colour 
 of death, was trembling between the two yeomen, 
 and faintly mumbling, " Oh, God ! Lord, be mer- 
 
Rory 0' More 449 
 
 ciful to me ! " and other such ejaculations ; and by 
 one of those strange and lightning touches of thought 
 which bring before us the scene we least expect, he 
 reverted to his meeting with Mary O 'More the 
 night before, when she adjured him by his grey hairs 
 not to deceive her, and said, " Old man, you 're not far 
 off the grave ! " The remembrance came upon him 
 like the sound of a passing-bell, and from that instant 
 he gave himself up for lost, and only begged for the 
 love of God they would not hang him without letting 
 him see a priest. 
 
 " Oh, let me have a priest ! " cried the trembling 
 old sinner. 
 
 " I wish we had one here," said Slink, " and I 'd 
 hang him beside you with pleasure ! " 
 
 The lieutenant, as the last argument, represented 
 there was no place whereon to hang the old man, as 
 the justice would have it so; but to this Captain 
 Slink replied, 
 
 " That 's all you know about it ! Now I '11 give 
 you a lesson in hanging may be useful to you yet, 
 if you 're in a hurry, as I am now, to get rid of a 
 rebel." 
 
 " I 'm no rebel ! the God that hears me knows 
 I never was a rebel ! " faltered the old tinker and 
 it was one of the few truths he had ever uttered. 
 
 " Unyoke that car," said Justice Slink : " take the 
 captain's body off, and lay it beside the ditch, till we 
 finish this business. Do your duty, Scroggins," said 
 he to the trumpeter of his troop who was a ruffianly 
 dependant of his; and, nothing loth, the gentle 
 Scroggins whipped the noose of the car-rope round 
 the withered neck of old Solomon, who screamed as 
 he felt his head within the loop. 
 
 " Turn up the car," said the justice. 
 
 The vehicle was thrown back on its end, and the 
 
450 Rory O'More 
 
 shafts thus became sufficiently elevated to give a 
 purchase for the fatal rope across the back-band ; and 
 as the coward captain cried, "Away with him ! " the 
 unfortunate tinker was dragged screaming to the 
 impromptu gallows, and his cries were only smothered 
 in the writhing twirl with which he swung upwards 
 to his death. 
 
 The yeomanry corps gave a shout ; but the soldiers 
 looked on in silence, and the lieutenant in disgust. 
 
 " It will be soon over," said Justice Slink, " and 
 then you can have the car again for the conveyance 
 of the captain." 
 
 u Sir," said the lieutenant indignantly, ''your gal- 
 lows shall never be the resting-place of a soldier ! 
 Take up your captain, boys," added he to his men, 
 who obeyed at the word, and, glad to escape from the 
 scene of atrocity which was enacting, they turned 
 from the yeomanry in the midst of their gibbeting 
 glory, and gladly heard the word " March ! ' from 
 the lieutenant. 
 
 " That fellow 's disaffected, though he wears the 
 king's cloth," said Slink, pointing after the lieutenant 
 when he was out of hearing ; " and by G d ! I '11 
 report him to the commanding officer." 
 
 " It would be only right," was answered by several 
 of the corps. 
 
 " Things are come to a pretty pass indeed, when 
 we are to be left unsupported by the military in the 
 discharge of our duty, and endeavouring to pacify the 
 country ! " 
 
 " How d d hard that old rascal's dying; your 
 hand 's out, Scroggins, to-day." 
 
 " He 's a tough old thief," said Scroggins. 
 
 " Give him another pull, or he '11 keep us here all 
 day," said the justice; "and it's beginning to rain, 
 there 's no fun in getting wet to see a tinker 
 
Rory O'More 451 
 
 hanging. D n him! he will never die! better 
 finish him at once, and ride home. Stand aside, 
 Scroggins," added the captain as he drew a pistol 
 from his holster ; " we can't wait till he 's dead, and 
 we must n't leave unfinished work behind us." And 
 levelling his pistol as he spoke, he fired at the still 
 writhing body of the old man, whose mortal agonies 
 terminated with the short muscular jerk which the 
 bullet of Justice Slink produced as it passed through a 
 vital part, and down dropped the legs of the suspended 
 victim in the rigidness of death. 
 
 " Fall in ! " said the captain to his troop as he re- 
 turned his pistol to the holster; and the order of 
 march was resumed when those who had dismounted 
 regained their saddles. 
 
 The peasant whose car had been thus polluted, and 
 who stood in speechless horror at the merciless act he 
 was forced to witness, now took ofF his hat, and in the 
 tone of humblest humility said, " Plaze your honour, 
 won't your honour be plazed to ordher the dead man 
 to be taken down ? " 
 
 " Take him down yourself," said the justice ; u he 
 won't do you any harm.'' And giving the word to 
 his troop, away they rode, leaving the peasant looking 
 after them in horror-stricken wonder how men could 
 be such monsters. 
 
 When a bend of the road had shut out the horse- 
 men from his sight, he turned with a feeling of loath- 
 ing to where their victim was hanging between the 
 shafts of the car, which industry had dedicated to the 
 offices of peace, and had been laden with the fruits 
 of plenty, but now bore the harvest of death. 
 
 The very thought of touching the body was revolt- 
 ing to him, and he stood gazing on the horrid sight 
 motionless as the object that appalled him. 
 
 And there hung the old tinker, the end of his wily 
 
452 Rory O'More 
 
 and worthless life being a violent death ; and though 
 many of his deeds were worthy of capital punishment, 
 he died at last on suspicion of one of the few crimes 
 he had never committed. 
 
 While the peasant was still undecided as to how he 
 should act, he perceived a traveller approaching, 
 not a traveller of high degree, but one from whom he 
 might expect sympathy and assistance, for his bundle 
 suspended at his back from a stick over his shoulder 
 declared him to be of his own class. As he ap- 
 proached, the farmer was startled at tracing in his 
 person the outlines of an old acquaintance, and ex- 
 claimed, " God be good to me ! but if ever he was 
 alive in this world, it 's Rory O'More ! " 
 
 The traveller still advanced ; and as he approached, 
 his attention became riveted by the appalling sight 
 that crossed his path, and he heeded not the peasant 
 when he came to a stand before the suspended body, 
 until his wonder and horror had been so far recovered 
 as to turn his eyes upon the living with an expression 
 of inquiry in their silent gaze, which was met by one 
 of a similar expression on the part of him he looked 
 upon. For a few seconds the two men stood in 
 silence : the traveller was the first to speak. 
 
 " Why, thin, don't you know me, Coghlan ? " 
 
 " May the Lord save us, thin ! and is it you that 's 
 in it ? " said the farmer. 
 
 " Who else would it be ? " 
 
 "Why, thin, Rory O'More, is that yourself? " 
 
 " Don't you see it 's myself ? " 
 
 " By the blessed light ! I did n't know whether it 
 was you, or your appearance l only : sure, we thought 
 you wor dead. Oh, (^ueen of Heaven ! and where 
 wor you ever sence ? " 
 
 " Sence when ? " 
 
 * Apparition. 
 
Rory 0' More 453 
 
 " Sence your disappearance God bless my sowl ! : 
 
 " Oh, you mane when the vagabones tuk me away." 
 
 " What vagabones ? " 
 
 " Oh, you don't know about it ! I forgot. But 
 will you tell me " 
 
 "Stop now," said the farmer. "Tell me God's 
 thruth, and is it yourself, Rory, in airnest ? for it 's as 
 grate a surprise to me as if you kem from the dead." 
 
 " Give us your fist," said Rory, advancing to take 
 the farmer's hand, which was almost withdrawn in 
 doubt of the mortal identity of the form that stood 
 before him ; but the warm shake of Rory's hand dis- 
 pelled his misgivings, and Rory then said, 
 
 " In the name o' God what 's this I see ? " and he 
 pointed to the gallows. 
 
 " Why, what 's so wondherful in it ? Sure, they 
 hang any one they like." 
 
 " Who ? " said Rory in wild wonder. 
 
 " Ah, I forgot you wor away all this time," said 
 the farmer; "and, indeed, well for you ! for they 're 
 bad times for poor Ireland." 
 
 " Sure, I heerd they wor throubled times," said 
 Rory ; " but I thought it was all over now." 
 
 " So it is," said the farmer despondingly. u It 's 
 all over, sure enough : and we 're down intirely." 
 
 " And if it 's all over, what 's this for ? " said Rory, 
 pointing to the dead man. 
 
 " Oh, that 's nothin'," said the farmer with a long- 
 drawn sigh. 
 
 "Nothing!" exclaimed Rory. "Is it nothing, 
 you say, to hang a man in the open road and lave him 
 there like a scarecrow." 
 
 " Throth, that 's but the sweepings o' the barn, Rory 
 avic. Oh, but your heart would bleed if you knew 
 how many is dead and gone sence you wor here ! " 
 
 From the melancholy tone of the peasant's manner, 
 
454 Rory O'More 
 
 Rory's apprehension applied to it a meaning touching 
 himself, and clasping his hands, he said, with the 
 urgency of terror in his manner, " My mother and 
 Mary ! for God's sake tell me thruth ! " 
 
 " They 're safe," said the peasant. 
 
 " And Kathleen Regan ? " 
 
 " Safe too, Rory." 
 
 " Thank God ! " exclaimed Rory ; and the tears 
 sprang to his eyes at this sudden transition from alarm 
 to security. 
 
 When he recovered iiis tranquillity, the peasant re- 
 lated the circumstances of Solomon's death, and be- 
 sought Rory to assist him in taking down the corse 
 from where the hangman had left it. 
 
 The revolting task was performed ; and as they 
 had no immediate means of sepulture within their 
 reach, all they could do was to lay the body in the 
 adjoining field ; and the peasant once more yoked his 
 horse to the car, which he expressed the utmost loath- 
 ing to use again. 
 
 " But what can I do ? " said he. " I 'm too poor 
 to give it up ; and sure, the blame is theirs, and not 
 mine. But, wid all that, I can't help rememberin' it 
 was made a gallows of: and here's the mark o' 
 murdher on it ! " added the peasant, with the ex- 
 pression of disgust on his countenance, as he took up 
 a handful of straw and endeavoured to rub from the 
 body of the car a few drops of blood which had 
 trickled from the wound the pistol shot produced. 
 
 After a few more words were exchanged between 
 the peasants, they bade a melancholy farewell to each 
 other ; and with a low-toned " God speed you ! ' 
 which, however, implied, in the fervency with which 
 it was uttered, that they had need of Heaven's special 
 protection, they parted and each went his separate 
 way. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 IN WHICH RORY SEEKS HIS HOME BUT FINDS IT NOT 
 
 IT was with a feeling of oppression at his heart 
 that Rory parted from his newly-found acquain- 
 tance. What he had seen and taken part in was 
 enough to influence the feelings of a less susceptible 
 person ; meeting such an incident almost on the 
 threshold of his home chilled the warm tide of antici- 
 pation which had borne him onwards in beguilement 
 upon his return to his native place. But his mother 
 and sister, and the girl of his heart, he was told, were 
 safe and well; which consoled him in the midst of 
 all else that might grieve : and yet, though knowing 
 this, Rory was not as happy as he had, been before he 
 encountered the hateful scene he had left as when, 
 only in the hopefulness of his own nature, he felt at 
 the end of a long journey every mile shorter that 
 brought him nearer to his home. 
 
 Then, as he remembered the peasant's alarmed 
 wonder at seeing him, and the supposition he implied 
 to be a general one namely, that be was dead, he 
 fell into a train of painful thought at the notion of 
 how much his mother and sister must have suffered 
 at his absence. This made him resolve also to 
 approach the cottage cautiously ; and in case chance 
 did not throw in his way some means of acquainting 
 those he loved with his return, he cast about in his 
 own mind how he might let them know it with the 
 least possible surprise, should he himself be the person 
 
 VOL. II. 13 
 
456 Rory O'More 
 
 to inform them. " I must purtend to be a beggar, or 
 somethin' that way, and alther my voice, and spake 
 like an owld man, and stoop and hobble, and all to 
 that, and ask them for charity, and so let them know 
 by degrees." 
 
 In the revolving such schemes as these did Rory 
 pursue the road homewards, and at last a distant gleam 
 of the river beside his native hills was like sunshine 
 to his heart, and he stretched forward at a brisker 
 pace, to lessen the distance between him and the little 
 boreen, and the hazel hedges and the cottage which 
 had so often appeared to him in his dreams while he 
 was away ; and it was not long until the lane and the 
 hedges were in sight, and Rory ran forward, hurried 
 on by the fervour of his feelings. When he turned 
 into the lane, he crept close to the hedge ; and while 
 his heart thumped at his .side with eagerness, he 
 approached stealthily towards the cottage, lest his 
 sudden appearance might produce alarm; and as he 
 got near the end of the lane, where the view of his 
 native hut should soon be open to him, he paused for 
 a few minutes to endeavour to overcome the choking 
 sensation of anxiety which almost suffocated him, and 
 made him tremble from head to foot. At last he 
 determined on approaching the house and making 
 himself known as cautiously as he could ; and emerg- 
 ing from the shelter of the hazels, he walked forward 
 the few paces that opened upon him the gable end 
 of his little cottage. A few paces more, and its front 
 would be revealed : but what a shock for the heart 
 of the poor wanderer was there ! Instead of the 
 warm thatch he had left behind, the other naked 
 gable stood staring coldly against the sky, and two 
 or three ragged rafters crossed each other irregularly, 
 their charred blackness too plainly telling the fate 
 that had befallen the spot of his nativity. 
 
Rory 0' More 457 
 
 He was petrified with horror at the sight, and for 
 a few seconds the very stones on which he gazed 
 were not more senseless than he. 
 
 . On recovering himself, he approached the murky 
 ruin in hurried and unequal steps, occasionally stop- 
 ping and exclaiming in a tone of the deepest agony, 
 " Oh, God ! " He walked round and round it as if 
 he dreaded to enter the blackened walls ; but at 
 length he crossed the threshold, and the aspect of 
 cold loneliness where he had left warmth and com- 
 panionship, fell like an avalanche upon his heart, and 
 a long-drawn groan was all he could utter. 
 
 After the lapse of a few minutes, he turned round 
 with a bewildered eye. His look fell upon the hearth 
 where wet weeds were now growing, and the image 
 of decay in that place of comfort smote him so touch- 
 ingly that he burst into tears and wept profusely : it 
 relieved the heart which was full nigh to bursting, 
 and speech, hitherto frozen, thawed at the melting 
 touch of tenderness. 
 
 " And the fire is not there ! and where are they 
 that sat beside it ? Where are they ? Oh, my 
 God ! my God ! my heart will break ! And he towld 
 me they were well. Oh, why did he desaive me ! 
 Poor fellow, poor fellow ! maybe he had n't the heart 
 to tell me. Och hone ! och hone ! and is this what 
 I 'm come home to ! Mother, mother, where are 
 you ! Mary dear, where can I find you ! or are you 
 gone too, and am I alone within my own walls, with 
 nothing but the grass on my threshold ! Oh, father, 
 father ! the gravestone over you is not so bleak as 
 these blackened walls to me ! Here, where I was 
 nursed and reared, and grew up in love and tendher- 
 ness ; here, to have worse than a grave to come to ! 
 Oh, well for me if I had died, and had never seen 
 this day ! " 
 
458 Rory O'More 
 
 He threw himself passionately against the ruins 
 and wept convulsively. 
 
 After some moments of this vehement grief he 
 looked once rhore upon the roofless walls around him, 
 and an expression of intense agony again passed over 
 his countenance as he excla ; med, " Oh, my Kathleen, 
 and where are you ! are you too without a house and 
 home, and a wandherer on the world ! And is the 
 heart that adores you only come back to break over 
 your ruined cabin, or maybe, your grave ! Oh, 
 bitther was the day I was forced from you, to lave 
 you, without the heart to love and the hand to guard 
 you ! Och hone ! och hone ! my life 's a load to me 
 if thim I love has come to harm ! And where am I 
 to turn ? where am I to find thim ? I 'm a sthranger 
 on the spot I was born, and the fire o' my own hearth 
 is quenched." 
 
 Again he looked on the ruined cabin, the fragments 
 of charred rafters, and the thick-growing weeds ; and 
 though the sight made his blood run cold, yet he 
 could not leave the spot: still he lingered there, mak- 
 ing some fresh outpouring of his bitter grief as some 
 new association was stirred within his mind. At 
 length he left the desolated spot, and returned with a 
 melancholy step up the little boreen ; and after some 
 minutes of consideration, determined on seeking 
 Phelim O'Flanaghan, to learn from him the extent 
 of misfortune which had befallen all those who were 
 dear to him. 
 
 He found old Phelim at home ; and the surprise of 
 the poor schoolmaster was extreme at the appearance 
 of Rory. The first moment of alarm (for such his 
 emotion amounted to) being past, he hugged him, and 
 wept, and prayed, and thanked God for the restoration 
 of his own boy, as he called him, over and over again. 
 Rory's instant inquiries for his mother and sister, and 
 
Rory O'More 459 
 
 Kathleen were answered satisfactorily ; and the poor 
 fellow dropped on his knees, in acknowledgment of 
 Heaven's mercies. 
 
 " Oh, Phelim ! a Turk would have pitied me," 
 said Rory, " when I got the first sight of the cabin all 
 tatthered to pieces, and the rafthers blackened with 
 the fire ! " 
 
 " 'Faith, he would be a Turk, for sartin, if he did n't, 
 the barbarian savage of the Arawbian deserts might 
 be enlightened with a tindher touch of pity for your 
 sufferin's : for though he has no house nor home 
 himself, sure, it 'ud be unnatharal if he would n't feel 
 the loss of it for another, for though he lives in the 
 sands, by all accounts, and we live in mud, sure it 's 
 all as one, barrin' the difference of the material as 
 a domus is a domus howsomever it is built. Oh, to 
 see the owld place burnt down was a sore sight ! And 
 how did you feel at all, Rory, my poor fellow, when 
 you seen that ? " 
 
 " I felt as if my own heart was scorched," said 
 Rory. 
 
 " 'Faith, that is as complate a demonstheration of 
 your feelin's as you could make Q. E. D." 
 
 " Will you bring me to where they are ? " said Rory. 
 
 " To be sure I will, boy, and that smart. The 
 Lord keep us, how they '11 be, surprised ! " 
 
 " You must brake it to thim, Phelim, for fear they 
 might get a fright." 
 
 " Sartinly, I '11 expound it to thim by degrees ; and 
 what with a dark hint, or a bright coruscation of the 
 distant thruth, through the 'newindos I will give 
 thim " 
 
 " Arrah, never mind the windows, man, but go in 
 at the door at wanst, and don't keep me waitin' long 
 without, for my heart is burstin' till I howld thim 
 to it." 
 
460 Rory O'More 
 
 " I 'm neither talkin' of windows nor doors, Rory ; 
 but I say, that it is by distant scintillations, as it were, 
 that they must be prepared for the anticipation." 
 
 " 'Faith, you may well call it an anticipation, for a 
 man to be taken away for a year or betther, and come 
 back safe and sound afther all ! " 
 
 " 'Faith, you 're a wondherful boy, Rory, sure 
 enough ! you are the rale rara avis in terris. How 
 they '11 be astonished ! " 
 
 " Make haste, Phelim agra I think every minit 
 an hour till we go." 
 
 11 We 're off now," said the schoolmaster, fastening 
 the door of his little hut, and leading the way. 
 
 " The sun is low already, Rory avic, and it will be 
 night before we get to Knockbrackin, so we had 
 betther take to the fields, for as the martial law is 
 out still, we must keep off the road as much as we 
 can." 
 
 "Sure, thin, if it 's in Knockbrackin they are, I '11 
 go by myself, and don't you be runnin' risks, Phelim." 
 
 "Arrah, Rory, do you think I'd miss seein' the 
 pleasure that '11 be in it this night wid the meeting o' 
 yiz all ? No, in throth, not for more money than I 
 could count, though Gough and Voshther is familiar 
 to me : so, come along, boy." 
 
 " God bless you, Phelim ! the heart is warm in 
 you." 
 
 " Thank God, and so it is," said Phelim. " Though 
 I 'm owld, it 's not cowld ; so, there 's rhyme and 
 rayson for you too. Come along, boy , " and the 
 old man led the way at a brisker pace than usual, the 
 ardour of good-nature overcoming the langour of age. 
 
CHAPTER XLI 
 
 JOY VISITS THE HOUSE OF MOURNING, BUT DOES NOT 
 SEEM TO LIKE HER QUARTERS 
 
 IT was night when Phelim and Rory reached the 
 village. A gentle tap, given by Phelim at the 
 door of a cabin standing somewhat apart from the rest, 
 di*prbed its inmates from the melancholy occupation 
 in which they were engaged. 
 
 Four women who were praying beside a bed of 
 straw whereon the dead body of a man was lying 
 lifted their tearful eyes at the sound, and paused in 
 their oraisons. The tap at the door was repeated ; 
 the women did not speak, but exchanged looks of 
 alarm with each other, and more carefully screened 
 the light than it had been before : but to a third 
 knock they arose from their knees and consulted in 
 whispers with each other. 
 
 The corse was that of Shan Regan ; the watchers 
 were his mother and sister, with the Widow O'More 
 and Mary. 
 
 The rebels, at nightfall, had borne their fallen com- 
 panion to the village, that the last offices for the 
 departed might be performed by his family, although 
 much risk attended the doing so ; but the waking the 
 dead is held so sacred amongst this affectionate people, 
 that they were willing to incur every danger rather 
 than a Christian should 'be consigned to the ground 
 " like a dog," as they said themselves. 
 
 After some brief consultation, the women assumed 
 
462 Rory O'More 
 
 as much composure as they could, and the door was 
 opened with fear and trembling ; but the presence of 
 old Phelim restored them to security. On his observ- 
 ing the sad faces around him, he inquired the cause. 
 The answer was not in words ; but Kathleen, taking 
 his hand and leading him over to the far corner of 
 the cabin, withdrew a blanket which hung before the 
 candle burning beside the dead body, and saying, 
 " Look there ! " relapsed into tears. 
 
 The women caught the infection, and renewed 
 their lamentation, while Phelim stood silently gazing 
 on the remains of Shan Regan. 
 
 " There ! " said the Widow O'More, " my poor 
 owld neighbour has lost her son as well as me. Qh, 
 are n't we to be pitied ! Though she 's not so badly 
 off afther all, for she knows the worst at laste, and 
 has him to do the last duties by him ; but my darlin' 
 was taken from me unknownst, and I '11 never see 
 him agin ! " 
 
 tc Don't be so despairing, Mrs. O'lMore, my dear; 
 you don't know but you may have your son restored 
 to you yet." 
 
 " Never, never ! " cried the widow. 
 
 " There 's marvillous conjunctions sometimes, my 
 dear ma'am, wherein the Almighty demonstherates 
 his dispinsations accordin' to his own blessed will, 
 and in his own good time ; and do you know I have 
 certain misgivin's, or I may say lucubrations, that it 
 will turn out your son will turn up." 
 
 The widow looked at the schoolmaster very intently 
 as he proceeded with his speech, and, though not 
 clearly understanding him, yet through the mist of 
 hard words caught at his meaning ; and there was 
 something in his manner which implied so much of 
 assurance, that she held her eyes fixed on him with a 
 look of eager inquiry as she said, 
 
Rory O'More 463 
 
 "Why, then, what do you mane, Phelim ? " 
 
 " I mane that you should not be surprised out o' 
 your life if God was good to you some time or other; 
 and no knowin' the day or the hour that Rory might 
 be promiscuously, as I may say, restored to us in an 
 individual manner, and without that preparation or 
 hallucination requizit for sudden surprises or " 
 
 " Phelim," interrupted Mary, " I 'm sure you 've 
 heerd something, or you would n't talk this way, and 
 come here at this time o' night. For Heaven's sake, 
 tell us at wanst if you do know any thing of Rory." 
 
 Kathleen had been attracted as well as Mary by 
 Phelim's last words, and was so overcome by agitation 
 as to sink to a seat; and her eyes being turned 
 towards the door, which stood ajar, became suddenly 
 riveted on a figure in the gloom beyond it, for 
 Rory having drawn as close to the entrance as he 
 could, to hear the sound of the loved voices within, 
 had come within range of Kathleen's eager eye. 
 
 Before Phelim could answer Mary's adjuration, a 
 faint scream from Kathleen called Mary's attention 
 upon her, and she beheld her with clasped hands and 
 fascinated gaze looking through the door, as she ex- 
 claimed, " Great God, he 's there ! " and she buried 
 her face in her hands as she spoke, and fell back- 
 wards. 
 
 Phelim caught her, or she must have dropped to 
 the ground ; while Mary and her mother rushed to 
 the door, whose threshold Rory's foot had just 
 crossed, and the long-lost wanderer was clasped at 
 the same instant in the arms of his mother and sister. 
 After a long and tender embrace of each, he hastened 
 to Kathleen, who still kept her face covered. Kneel- 
 ing beside her, Rory besought her to look upon him, 
 and gently endeavoured to withdraw her hands ; but 
 the poor girl trembled violently, while she could only 
 
464 Rory O'More 
 
 breathe in long-drawn sighs, and it was some time 
 before her lover could prevail upon her to behold him. 
 Tremulously parting her hands, she looked upon 
 Rory for a few moments, and then again screened 
 her eyes, as though the sight of him had been sun- 
 shine to them and could not be supported : but in 
 that one look, there was so much of timorous delight, 
 so much of child-like joy, seeming afraid almost to 
 trust its own happiness, that Rory's heart drank full 
 of delight, and clasping her wildly in his arms, he 
 exclaimed, " She 's my own ! she 's my own ! " 
 
 The melting girl dropped into his embrace, and as 
 her arms hung round his neck, she wept as she had 
 wept before for her brother. 
 
 But the tears were not from the same source. 
 How wondrous near do the founts of joy and sorrow 
 lie in the human heart ! 
 
 After the first burst of welcome and joy was over, 
 Rory's eye fell upon the figure of Kathleen's mother 
 sitting silently and steadfastly in her chair, as if she 
 belonged not to the scene nor did she ! to her, 
 her dead son was dearer than her daughter's living 
 lover. Her head was turned away, for she looked 
 upon the corse of Regan, which was screened from 
 Rory's observation ; but he, advancing towards her 
 to claim her welcome, started and stood still when he 
 saw the object of her melancholy contemplation. 
 He turned an inquiring glance to Mary and Kath- 
 leen : the former spoke : 
 
 " Ah, Rory, you 've come back to see sore 
 trouble ! " 
 
 " He 's dead now, Rory," said Kathleen. The few 
 words were given in a tone which spoke a history : 
 the meaning travelled over the past it spoke of in- 
 juries inflicted, of wrath and wrongs, and implied that 
 Forgiveness was the hand-maiden of Death. Rory 
 
Rory 0' More 465 
 
 felt all the meaning, but his generous heart needed 
 not the appeal : he approached the dead body, and 
 kneeling beside it, took the lifeless hand and said, 
 "Shan though you would not be my friend in life, 
 we 're friends now." He laid the hand gently down, 
 and raising his own in the action of prayer, said fer- 
 vently, " May his soul rest in glory ! " then rising 
 from his knees, he approached Kathleen, who flung 
 herself in a passion of tears on his neck and sobbed 
 forth audibly, " God bless you God bless you, 
 Rory ! " 
 
 It was an exciting scene which that cabin ex- 
 hibited. There was grief over the dead, and joy 
 over the living ; one had been hurried out of life, and 
 another returned as if from the grave. Words are 
 weak in comparison with human passion, and better 
 may such a scene be conceived than related. 
 
 But the startling adventures of the day and night 
 were not yet over. Information had been conveyed 
 to the yeomanry corps, that the body of a rebel was 
 being waked in the village ; and whenever such an 
 event took place, they always sought to find where 
 this observance to the dead was performed, for the 
 purpose of discovering those who respected a rebel so 
 far, and marking them, if not for vengeance, at least 
 for surveillance. 
 
 It was in the middle of the night, while Rory was 
 recounting to his family the circumstances of his 
 mysterious disappearance, that a loud knocking at the 
 door and fierce demands for immediate entry alarmed 
 them. Before the door could be unbarred to the 
 summons, it was burst open by a blow from the butt- 
 end of a carabine, and Justice Slink, followed by some 
 of his corps, entered the cabin. The scene which 
 ensued it is impossible to describe there was insult 
 to the living and the dead, and Rory was laid violent 
 
466 Rory O'More 
 
 hands on, as the murderer of Scrubbs : to explain 
 at such a moment was impossible ; every attempt he 
 made to do so was met by curses and blows ; and he 
 was dragged from amongst the shrieking women, 
 hurried to the county gaol, and committed to abide 
 his trial as a murderer. 
 
CHAPTER XLII 
 
 CONTAINING AN EXPLANATORY LETTER 
 
 AS soon as De Lacy and Rory arrived in Dublin 
 from Bordeaux, the latter lost not an hour in 
 proceeding southward, to appease the yearnings of his 
 heart after home. But De Lacy remained in thi 
 capital to transact various necessary business with his 
 lawyer respecting his newly-acquired property. 
 
 It was with surprise and sorrow he received the 
 following letter a few days after Rory's departure : 
 the address ran thus, penned in a round text : 
 
 To his Honour Horat io 
 De Lacy Esquire to be 
 left at Counsel 1 Casey's 
 Dominick S l Dublin. 
 
 The missive was closed with a wafer and bore the 
 impression of a thimble by way of seal, and when 
 handed to De Lacy by his lawyer on his entering his 
 study, excited no small surprise. 
 
 " Who the deuce can this be from ! " said De 
 Lacy, turning the letter over three or four times. 
 
 The lawyer pointed to the impression of the 
 thimble, and giving a knowing wink, replied, "You 
 soldiers are terrible fellows among the girls ! " 
 
 u We '11 see what fair correspondent this is from," 
 said De Lacy as he broke the seal. These were the 
 contents : 
 
 " HONOURED SIR 
 
 "NEMO mortalium in omnibus horis sapit as is 
 iligantly remarked by the Classicks which is my own 
 
468 Rory 0' More 
 
 case at this present writin for I know more know 
 what 's to be done then the babe unborn in the regard 
 of his life been in danger as they will hang him if 
 posable unless you can sthreck him out sum way to 
 purvint it been surrounded as we are I may say with 
 truth with sarcumvallations more cuteaneous and per- 
 plexn then the Walls of Troy or the Labyrynthus of 
 Crete where the miniature was kept and Diddle-us him- 
 self could not get out in short we are in the verry centre 
 of a hobble and wishes you to know it knowin youl 
 be plased to do all in your power for the poor boy 
 who they tuk to jail the minit he cfcme home from 
 the poor women who is brakin their harts and they 
 wont blieve the blaggards I mane what he ses about 
 it but wants to make out he murdhered the Killecthr 
 which he never done though God knows it would be 
 no loss and this is to insense you on that same and 
 ax your honours advice which is no good Im afeard 
 in regard of the villians that is thurstin for his blood 
 which they will have barrin it can be saved and 
 knowin none can do that same but yourself seein that 
 you are a gintleman every inch o you and no less 
 and was always our frind and his frind and I know 
 will do all mortial man can do for him and from him 
 and his they offer you their prayrs and blessins as of owld 
 and hopes youl stand to them now and they will ever 
 pray and so will I who respects your honour more 
 then tongs can tell for minshuration could not 
 measure the profunditty of my reverence for your 
 honour which will inkrase in a jommethrical ratio 
 to the ind of Time 
 
 " From your Honours 
 " Obagent Sarvent 
 "To Command 
 u PHELIM OFLANAGAN. 
 " Philomath." 
 
Rory 'More 469 
 
 The mingled senses of the ridiculous and the 
 serious which this letter excited produced an effect 
 upon De Lacy not unnoticed by the lawyer. 
 
 u What the deuce is that you 're reading ? " 
 
 " Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " Because your brow and your mouth are playing 
 at cross purposes ; for while gloom sits on the one, 
 mirth is twitching at the other." 
 
 " The face is the index of the mind," said De 
 Lacy : "it is a true saying. There, read that, and 
 you'll know more about the matter ; " and he handed 
 him the letter. 
 
 The young barrister laughed at the extraordinary 
 epistle, and when he concluded the reading of it, 
 declared it to be one of the most extraordinary doc- 
 uments which had ever come under his inspection ; 
 " but in one respect," added he, " it does not fulfil 
 your representation of it." 
 
 " How so ? " asked De Lacy. 
 
 " You said, as you gave it to me, I should know 
 more of the business ; and I confess I am yet as 
 ignorant on that point as when I began. You who 
 are acquainted, I suppose, with the circumstances of 
 the person and case alluded to, may be enabled to 
 make a guess at the matter, but to a stranger it is 
 perfectly hieroglyphic." 
 
 " Don't you see they have taken him to gaol on 
 a charge of murder ! " 
 
 "And who is him, pray? " 
 
 " Rory O'More, to be sure : does not the letter 
 say so ? " 
 
 " Indeed, it does not nor one tangible fact. 
 You may guess what all this extraordinary composition 
 means; but I defy any one to arrive at any know- 
 ledge from the thing itself: it has neither mention of 
 name (except the magniloquent writer) nor of distinct 
 
470 Rory O'More 
 
 fact, nor even time nor place specified. Look your- 
 self : there is neither date nor address." 
 
 " It is so, I perceive, now that you remark it ; but 
 I know whence it comes and to what it alludes, and 
 it gives me deep concern." 
 
 " Let us see the post-mark," said the lawyer as he 
 turned to the outside of the letter. " Ha! - from 
 the South, I see." 
 
 "Yes," said De Lacy; "that 's the post-town of 
 the district ; so far right, but there is no date ! How- 
 ever, it matters not much, for 't is but a few days 
 since the poor fellow left me for home, and now he 
 is in gaol on a charge of murder, of which I know he 
 is innocent ! " 
 
 "Then your evidence can acquit him." 
 
 " Certainly," said De Lacy. " But it is too hard 
 an innocent man must lie in gaol on a false charge." 
 
 " He will not lie there long, for they make short 
 work of accusations and trials now ; so tell me all 
 about it," said the lawyer, u and we '11 see what can 
 be done." 
 
 De Lacy then entered into an explanation of the 
 circumstances connected with Rory's and the col- 
 lector's abduction, together with the nature of his first 
 connection with O'More, and the cause of his being 
 an inmate of the cottage ; and when he had concluded, 
 the barrister shook his head and said it was an awk- 
 ward affair. 
 
 " At all events I will at once go to the South, and 
 see him." 
 
 "You must do no such thing. You forget the 
 state this country is in ; and after all you have told 
 me, your presence in his behalf would be quite enough 
 to hang him." 
 
 " And must I let the poor fellow lie in prison with- 
 out hope or comfort ? " 
 
Rory 0' More 471 
 
 " Certainly not. / will see him, if you like ; and 
 there will be much more hope for him in that, and 
 much more comfort to you and him, in having his life 
 saved through my intervention, than put in jeopardy 
 through yours." 
 
 " Thanks to you, my dear friend ! " said De Lacy. 
 "There is nothing by which you can oblige me more 
 than by an immediate attention to this affair, and no ex- 
 pense can be incurred which I will not willingly pay 
 for this poor fellow's safety. How soon can you go 
 down ? for I wish him to be assured as quickly as 
 possible of every care being taken of him." 
 
 " There is no time to be lost ; for special commis- 
 sions are now holden all over the country." 
 
 " I must go with you," said De Lacy. 
 
 " I insist on your not seeing the prisoner." 
 
 " To that I submit ; but I would not for worlds be 
 far away from him at such a time ! I cannot tell 
 you how I value him ; I may say, the affection I 
 have for him." 
 
 "Well, you may come down with me to the town, 
 and remain Incog, at the inn, if you like ; but I assure 
 you, if your presence in the country becomes known 
 to the prosecuting parties, it will be all the worse for 
 your friend Rory." 
 
 " I will be as cautious as you can desire in short, 
 I will put myself quite under your control." 
 
 " Very well, then ; we'll start the day after to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 VOL. n. 14 
 
CHAPTER XLIII 
 
 RORY INDULGES IN GLOOMY ANTICIPATIONS 
 
 WHEN De Lacy and his friend reached the town 
 where Rory was confined, the lawyer lost not 
 a moment in visiting the prisoner, making himself 
 possessed of the facts of his case, and assuring him 
 of every care being taken of him by De Lacy, " who 
 would in person have told you all this," said the bar- 
 rister, " but that I recommended him, considering the 
 state the country is in, not to show himself in this 
 business, as it would only do more harm than good ; 
 but he is in the town, O'More, as he is most anxious 
 to know the result of the trial, the moment it is over." 
 
 "God bless him!" said Rory; "he was always 
 good and kind to me; and tell him, if you plaze, sir, 
 that I 'm sinsible of all he 's done for me, and even if 
 I should die, I won't forget it all the same." 
 
 " It would puzzle you to remember it after you die, 
 O'More. But banish such melancholy thoughts, my 
 man, don't think of dying." 
 
 "'Faith, I hear it 's a bad chance with any poor 
 fellow who comes here of late, since the bad times. 
 I hear they come in at the door, and go out at the 
 window with a balkinny that has a very unsafe bottom 
 to it ; and for fear they should hurt themselves in 
 tumblin' through h, they tie a bit o' srhring to thim, 
 to brake the fall." 
 
 The lawyer could not suppress a smile at this ludi- 
 crous description of the fatal drop which Rory looked 
 
Rory O'More 473 
 
 forward to as his new means of exit, but, in a gentle 
 and soothing tone, desired him to be of good cheer, 
 and not to let his heart fail him. 
 
 " Tut, sir ! don't think I fear to die bekaze I spake 
 of it I don't desarve death, and it won't be my por- 
 tion if I get fair play; but, livin' or dyin', I 'm ready 
 to prove myself a man, and I 'm sure my poor mother 
 and sisther will always have a good frind in Misther 
 De Lacy, and so my mind 's aisy on that score ; and 
 as for dyin', a man must die some time or other, and 
 whenever I 'm called I '11 not flinch." 
 
 " Right, Rory ! that 's like the philosophers." 
 
 " I dunna who thim wor ; but it 's like a man, any 
 how." 
 
 " Good b'ye, O'More! I '11 see you soon again," 
 said the lawyer as he left him. 
 
 On his return to De Lacy, he expressed a good deal 
 of fear as to the difficulty of Rory's case, and ac- 
 knowledged the circumstances bore hardly against him. 
 
 " I can prove he was taken away by force." 
 
 " And how will you account for your own disap- 
 pearance to France ? The mere fact of your going 
 there convicts you of doing what your own life might 
 pay the forfeit of." 
 
 " No matter," said De Lacy, " if my testimony can 
 benefit Rory. Do you think I would live at the ex- 
 pense of that fine fellow's life ? " 
 
 "Certainly not; but you cannot prove any thing in 
 his favour." 
 
 " Yes, I can : I know the collector was not mur- 
 dered, but was alive in De Welskein's lugger when I 
 took Rory out of his hands." 
 
 " Did you see him ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Then you cannot prove any thing doing him a 
 pin's point of service you perceive you can't." 
 
474 Rory O'More 
 
 De Lacy was obliged to admit the truth of this, and 
 by dint of great persuasion on the part of his friend 
 was induced to keep himself incog, at the inn ; for noth- 
 ing but the assurance of his presence in the country 
 being detrimental to Rory could have restrained him 
 from visiting his prison, and also going to offer com- 
 fort to his mother and sister. 
 
 It is needless to dwell on the interval which elapsed 
 between this period and Rory's trial, to which De 
 Lacy looked forward with a feverish anxiety scarcely 
 exceeded by those of his own blood or even poor 
 Kathleen ; and when the anxious day arrived which 
 was to determine Rory's fate, De Lacy pressed the 
 hand of the friendly lawyer, on his leaving him to go 
 to the court, with a parting appeal to use every exer- 
 tion, and an aspiration to Heaven for his success. 
 
 " There is one thing in the poor fellow's favour, 
 however," said the barrister : " he appears before a 
 merciful judge ; Lord A n e sits on this com- 
 mission." 
 
CHAPTER XLIV 
 
 THE GLORIOUS PRIVILEGE OF TRIAL BY JURY 
 
 THE court was crowded on the day of Rory's 
 trial : the galleries were occupied by the gen- 
 try for many miles round, and all the magistrates of 
 the district were in attendance ; Justice Slink, the 
 most important of the number. Sweeny was beside 
 the counsel for the prosecution, and as busy as his 
 mischievous and meddling nature could desire. Close 
 beside the front of the dock stood three women whose 
 anxious countenances at once proclaimed them to be 
 deeply interested in the prisoner, for at every fresh 
 movement in the court they turned their eyes towards 
 the entrance of the dock in expectation of beholding 
 him. They were Rory's mother, his sister, and 
 Kathleen. At length, to the summons of " Make 
 way there, make way ! " the crowd swayed to and 
 fro ; the drawing of heavy bolts was heard, the door 
 of the dock opened, and Rory O'More, in custody of 
 the gaoler, entered the place of peril. 
 
 " Oh, my darlin', my darlin' ! " cried his mother, 
 in a heart-breaking tone as she rushed to the bar and 
 stretched her hand over it towards her boy, who came 
 forward and clasped it. 
 
 " Stand back ! " said one of the constables before 
 the bar, restraining the widow. 
 
 " Oh, don't be so hard-hearted ! " said she. 
 
 "You must stand back ! " 
 
476 Rory 'More 
 
 "Just let me give him one kiss ! I have n't seen 
 him these three weeks." 
 
 u Silence in the court ! " thundered the crier ; " hats 
 off room for my lord the judge ! " 
 
 Lord A now appeared upon the bench, and 
 
 some of the magistrates took their seats there also. 
 Slink was at his side, and appeared to be more officious 
 than was agreeable. The jury was now sworn ; and 
 as no challenges were made, the judge asked, had the 
 prisoner no counsel. Being answered in the affirma- 
 tive, he ordered the trial to proceed. 
 
 While these preliminaries were going forward, 
 Mary O'More and Kathleen were exchanging signs 
 of affection with Rory, who returned to their clasping 
 of hands and upraised and tearful eyes (expressive of 
 their prayers to the Almighty for his safety) a bright 
 look of confidence, and even a smile, not of levity, 
 but of tenderness : such as offended not against the 
 solemnity of the occasion, but was meant to inspire 
 those he loved with hope. 
 
 To the indictment the women listened with breath- 
 less anxiety ; and its various counts, repetitions, and 
 involvement, puzzled them so excessively, that they 
 at last began to doubt whether what was going forward 
 was in any way connected with Rory, and their sense 
 of hearing became blunted to the monotonous terms 
 of the rigmarole that was being read, till they were 
 startled from their quiet by a sudden call of " Prisoner 
 at the bar." They looked alternately between the 
 clerk and Rory while the formula of asking the pris- 
 oner what he pleaded was gone through ; and after 
 Rory's declaration of his innocence in the legal form, 
 the trial commenced. 
 
 The counsel for the prosecution made a flaming 
 speech. The exordium consisted of the worn-out 
 common-places of the day, about the demon of revo- 
 
Rory 0' More 477 
 
 lution, the hydra faction, of the times teeming with 
 terror and torrents of blood. He then reminded the 
 jury of the rebellion which had only just been put 
 down, and congratulated himself, and them and every 
 loyal man, that their throats were left uncut to " pro- 
 claim the proud pre-eminence of their glorious consti- 
 tution, and to denounce the ruffian rabble that sought 
 its overthrow." He then came to the facts of the 
 case before them representing Scrubbs as "an 
 amiable and worthy gentleman, torn from the bosom 
 of his family, and savagely slaughtered by the prisoner 
 at the bar. The disappearance of Mr. Scrubbs, gen- 
 tlemen, must be fresh in all your memories : but I 
 think it necessary to remind you of the principal 
 points which will appear in evidence, and I feel con- 
 fident that not a shadow of doubt will remain upon 
 your minds that the prisoner at the bar has been 
 guilty of the most flagrant, flagitious, bloody, and 
 mysterious murder." He then went over the details 
 very minutely, and wrought such a case out of the 
 circumstances (which were of themselves sufficiently 
 suspicious to put Rory's life in jeopardy in the best 
 of times), that when he sat down every one in the 
 court gave up poor Rory for lost, and his mother 
 murmured in a low moan as she wrung her hands, 
 " He 's gone, he 's gone ! my darlin 's gone ! they '11 
 have his life, they will ! " 
 
 The counsel for the prosecution next commenced 
 his examination of witnesses. Justice Slink, Sweeny, 
 and others who examined the glen of the Folly, swore 
 to the finding of the crow-bar near the ruins, the 
 appearances of a struggle upon the spot, &c. &c. 
 Larry Finnegan was then called to identify the crow- 
 bar as the one he had given to Rory upon the day of 
 Scrubbs's disappearance; he was also questioned as 
 to the previous meeting of Scrubbs and Rory at the 
 
478 Rory 'More 
 
 " Black Bull," and their departure thence in com- 
 pany : but Larry's anxiety was so great to avoid say- 
 ing any thing which would prejudice Rory, that he 
 did him more harm than good by his hesitation, and 
 the prosecuting counsel called the attention of the jury 
 to the disinclination the witness had to disclose the 
 truth. " You see plainly he wants to save the 
 prisoner." 
 
 " Arrah, thin, do you want me to sware away his 
 life ? " said Finnegan. " 'Faith, I 'd be sorry to do 
 that !" 
 
 " God bless you ! " said the poor mother. 
 
 " Silence in the court ! " roared the crier. 
 
 " You hear him, gentlemen ? " said the prosecuting 
 counsel. 
 
 " For God's sake ! " said Rory from the dock, 
 " tell the whole thruth and I 'm not afeard." 
 
 " Prisoner, be silent ! " said the counsel. 
 
 Lord A cast a searching glance upon Rory, 
 
 whose demand for the whole truth seemed to impress 
 his lordship favourably ; and his bright and open 
 look also pleaded for him, in the judge's benevolent 
 heart. 
 
 The evidence proceeded. 
 
 Counsel. You say that the prisoner at the bar and 
 the late Mr. Scrubbs " 
 
 The counsel for the defence here interposed, and 
 said he objected to the term, the late Mr. Scrubbs, as 
 it was assuming the fact he was dead, which was not 
 proven. The examination then proceeded. 
 
 Counsel. The prisoner at the bar and the late I 
 beg pardon Mister Scrubbs were the last to leave 
 the " Black Bull " on that day ? Witness. Yis, 
 sir. 
 
 Counsel. How did they go ? Witness. They wint 
 out o' the door, sir. 
 
Rory O'More 479 
 
 Counsel. I don't suppose they went out of the 
 window. I mean, did they leave about the same 
 time ? Witness. They wint togither, sir. 
 
 Counsel. Both out of the door at once ? Witness. 
 No, Mr. Scrubbs wint first. 
 
 Counsel. And the prisoner after? Witness. Yis. 
 
 Counsel. Then he followed him ? Witness. Yis. 
 
 Counsel. You observe, gentlemen of the jury, Mr. 
 Scrubbs went first, and the prisoner followed him. 
 Witness. Why, you would n't have him go before the 
 gintleman ! 
 
 Counsel. Silence, sir ! Remember that, gentlemen 
 he followed Mr. Scrubbs. 
 
 There was a good deal more of examination which 
 it would be uninteresting to record ; and after the 
 landlord of the " Black Bull " had been bullied and 
 tormented as much as the counsel chose, he said, 
 " You may go down, sir." 
 
 Larry Finnegan, delighted to escape, scrambled 
 from the witness's chair, and was rushing off the 
 table, when Rory's counsel interposed and said, " I 
 beg your pardon don't go down yet." 
 
 " Oh ! " said the counsel for the crown, "you 
 want to cross-examine him do you ? " 
 
 " I believe I have a right , sir," was the young 
 barrister's reply. 
 
 "Why, sure, what crosser examination can you gi' 
 me than the one I got ? " said poor Finnegan. 
 
 " Sit down, sit down, my man," said the counsel 
 encouragingly. " Now, don't be in a hurry, don't be 
 alarmed ; take your time, and answer me quietly a 
 few questions I shall ask you. You say some con- 
 versation passed between the prisoner and Mr. Scrubbs 
 at your house ? " - Witness. Yis, sir they wor 
 spakin' togither for some time. 
 
 Counsel. I think you mentioned that Mr. Scrubbs 
 
480 Rory O'More 
 
 asked the prisoner, was he going home ? Witness, 
 He did, sir. 
 
 Counsel. And the prisoner was going home ? 
 Witness. Yis, sir. 
 
 Counsel. Mr. Scrubbs's road home lay the same 
 way, I believe ? Witness. It did, sir. 
 
 Counsel. Then he and the prisoner could not help 
 going the same road ? Witness. They could not, 
 sir. 
 
 Counsel. Mr. Scrubbs went out of the door first ? 
 Witness. Yis, sir. 
 
 Counsel. And the prisoner after? Witness. Yis, 
 sir. 
 
 Counsel. Immediately? Witness. That minit. 
 
 Counsel. Then, what do you mean by saying he 
 followed him? Witness. I mane, he folly'd him 
 the way a poor man would folly a gintleman, of 
 coorse. 
 
 Counsel. I beg your attention, gentlemen of the 
 jury, to this explanation of the witness's meaning, 
 upon which the opposite counsel has put a false 
 construction. 
 
 Was the crow-bar you gave the prisoner his or 
 yours ? Witness. It was his, sir : he lint it to me, 
 and kem that day to ax for it. 
 
 Counsel. He came to ask for it, did he ? then it 
 was for that particular purpose he went to your house 
 that day? Witness. It was, sir. 
 
 Counsel. Before he saw Mr. Scrubbs at all ? 
 Witness. Yis, sir. 
 
 Counsel. I beg you to remember this also, gentle- 
 men of the jury. You may go down, witness. 
 
 Larry Finnegan again attempted to descend from 
 the table, but was interrupted by the counsel for the 
 prosecution ; and the look of despair which the 
 countenance of mine host of the " Black Bull " 
 
Rory 0' More 481 
 
 assumed was almost ludicrous. " Is it more you 
 want o' me ? " said he. 
 
 Counsel. A few questions. Sit down. 
 
 Larry scratched his head, and squeezed his hat 
 harder than he had done before, and resumed his seat 
 in bitterness of spirit ; but his answers having latterly 
 all gone smooth, he felt rather more self-possessed 
 than he had done under his previous examination by 
 the prosecuting counsel, and his native shrewdness 
 was less under the control of the novel situation in 
 which he was placed. The bullying barrister, as 
 soon as the witness was seated, began in a thundering 
 tone thus : 
 
 Counsel. Now, my fine fellow, you say that it was 
 for the particular purpose of asking for his crow-bar 
 that the prisoner went to your house ? Witness. 
 I do. 
 
 Counsel. By virtue of your oath ? Witness. By 
 the varth o' my oath. 
 
 Counsel (slapping the table fiercely with his hand}. 
 Now, sir, how do you know he came for that pur- 
 pose ? Answer me that, sir ! Witness. 'Faith, 
 thin, I'll tell you. When he came into the place 
 that morning, it was the first thing he ax'd for; and 
 by the same token, the way I remimber it is, that 
 when he ax'd for the crow-bar he lint me, some one 
 stan'in' by ax'd what / could want with a crow-bar ; 
 and Rory O'More with that said, it was n't me at all, 
 but the misthriss wanted it (Mrs. Finnegan, I mane). 
 " And what would Mrs. Finnegan want wid it ? " 
 says the mart. " Why," says Rory, " she makes the 
 punch so sthrong, that she bent the spoon sthrivin' to 
 stir it, and so she borrowed the crow-bar to mix the 
 punch." 
 
 A laugh followed this answer, and even Rory could 
 not help smiling at his own joke thus retailed ; but 
 
482 Rory O'More 
 
 his mother and Mary, and Kathleen, looked round 
 the court, and turned their pale faces in wonder on 
 those who could laugh while the life of him they 
 adored was at stake, and the sound of mirth at such 
 a moment fell more gratingly on their ears than the 
 fierce manner of the bullying prosecutor. 
 
 But the witness was encouraged, for he saw his 
 examiner annoyed, and he took a hint from the result, 
 and lay in wait for another opportunity of turning the 
 laugh against his tormentor. He was not long in get- 
 ting such an opening; and the more he was examined 
 in hope of shaking his testimony, the less the prose- 
 cutor gained by it. At length the counsel received 
 a whisper from Sweeny, that the fellow was drunk. 
 
 " He has his wits most d nably about him, for all 
 that," said the lawyer. 
 
 u He has been drinking all the morning I can 
 prove it," said Sweeny ; " and you may upset his 
 testimony, if you like, on that score." 
 
 " I '11 have a touch at him, then," said the lawyer. 
 
 When the jury perceived the same witness still 
 kept on the table, and a re-examination for the pros- 
 ecution entered upon, they became wearied, and 
 indeed no wonder; for the silk-gowned gentleman 
 became excessively dull, and, had he possessed any 
 tact, must have perceived from the demeanour of the 
 jury that his present course of proceeding was ill- 
 timed : yet he continued ; and in violation of all 
 custom sought to invalidate the testimony of the man 
 he himself had called as a witness : but Larry's cross- 
 examination having favoured the prisoner, the crown 
 counsel became incensed, and abandoned all ceremony 
 and discretion, which at length was noticed by the 
 bench. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, my lord, but I am anxious to 
 sift this witness." 
 
Rory O'More 483 
 
 " By gor ! " said Finnegan, " if you wor to sift me 
 from this till to-morrow, the divil a grain more you '11 
 get out o' me! and indeed you've been gettin' 
 nothin' but chaff for the last half hour." 
 
 The answer had so much of truth in it, that the 
 counsel became doubly annoyed at the suppressed 
 laugh he heard around him ; and then he determined 
 to bring up his heavy artillery, and knock Larry to 
 atoms. 
 
 Counsel. Now, sir, I Ve just a question or two that 
 you '11 answer by virtue of your oath. 
 
 The Bench. Really, Mr. - 
 
 Counsel. I beg your ludship's pardon but it is 
 absolutely important. Now, by virtue of your oath, 
 have n't you been drinking this morning ? Witness. 
 To be sure I have. 
 
 Counsel. How much did you drink ? Witness. 
 'Faith, I don't know : I never throuble myself keepin' 
 'count, barrin' I 'm sarvin' the customers at home. 
 
 Counsel. You took a glass of whisky before break- 
 fast, of course ? Witness. And glad to get it ! 
 
 Counsel. And another after ? Witness. Av coorse 
 when it was to be had. 
 
 Counsel. When you came into the town, you went 
 to a public-house, I hear, and were drinking there, 
 too, before you came into court ? Witness. Oh, 
 jist a thrifle among some frinds. 
 
 Counsel. What do you call a trifle? Witness. 
 Four pots a' porther and a quart o' sper'ts. 
 
 Counsel. Good God ! Gentlemen of the jury, 
 listen to this : a gallon of porter and a quart of 
 whisky ! Witness. Oh, but that was betune six 
 iv uz ! 
 
 Counsel. Then, sir, by your own account you 're 
 drunk at this moment. Witness. Not a bit. 
 
 Counsel. On your oath remember your oath, sir 
 
484 Rory O'More 
 
 do you think, after drinking all you yourself have 
 owned to, you are in a state to give evidence in a 
 court of justice ? Witness. 'Faith, I think a few 
 glasses only helps to brighten a man ! and, betune 
 
 ourselves, Counsellor , I think you 'd be a grate 
 
 dale the better of a glass yourself this minit. 
 
 The laugh which this rejoinder produced finished 
 " the counsellor," and he sat down without roaring, 
 as usual, at the witness, " Go down, sir." But 
 Larry kept his seat until the laugh was over; and 
 not receiving the ordinary mandate to retire, he 
 looked at the discomfited barrister with the most 
 provoking affectation of humility, and said, " Do you 
 want me any more, sir ? " 
 
 This renewed the laugh, and Finnegan retired from 
 the table under the shadow of his laurels. 
 
 After some more stupid examination of other wit- 
 nesses, and tedious blundering on the part of this 
 legal wiseacre, the case for the prosecution closed, 
 and Rory's counsel commenced his defence. 
 
 After some preliminary observations on the manner 
 in which the case had been conducted on the other 
 side, and the disingenuousness exhibited by his 
 " learned friend " in endeavouring to pervert 
 the meaning of some of the witnesses, among 
 others, that of the landlord of the Black Bull, the 
 counsel requested the jury to divest the evidence of 
 the mystery which had been studiously thrown round 
 it, until he had stripped it by cross-examination to its 
 pure and simple state ; and in that state he begged of 
 them to look upon it. " It is the more necessary, 
 gentlemen," said he, " because it is a case of circum- 
 stantial evidence ; and it behoves you to weigh such 
 evidence most scrupulously, when the life of a fellow- 
 creature depends upon it. This is doubly necessary 
 in this case, inasmuch as the prisoner stands in a 
 
Rory O'More 485 
 
 painfully perplexing situation, by having no means of 
 rebutting the charges against him by contrary living 
 evidence, all the persons bearing a part in the transac- 
 tion wherein he was forcibly carried away being dead 
 or beyond our reach : for you know, gentlemen, how 
 many lives have been sacrificed within the brief but 
 terrible period through which we have just passed ! I 
 will produce, however, in evidence an examination 
 sworn to before a magistrate who is now in this court, 
 by one Solomon Slevin, since dead." 
 
 " Yes, gentlemen," said the counsel for the prose- 
 cution, " he is dead indeed, for he has been hanged 
 since he swore it ; so you may guess how much his 
 deposition is worth." 
 
 The young barrister thus interrupted turned an 
 indignant and reproachful look on the crown lawyer 
 as he sat down, and said, " I cannot help remarking, 
 that I never met a more ungenerous observation in the 
 course of my practice." Then turning to the jury, 
 he continued, " You have been told, gentlemen, with 
 a view of prejudicing the evidence I have put in, that 
 the person who deposed to the facts therein contained 
 facts, gentlemen, that must acquit my client, I 
 repeat it, that must acquit him in the minds of unpre- 
 judiced men, as I am sure you will prove yourselves 
 to be; you have been told, I say, that person was 
 since hanged : but I will ask the learned gentleman 
 who has so cruelly endeavoured to destroy the only 
 hope of life my client has left, I will ask him, 
 since he provokes the question, was that person 
 legally hanged ? He will not answer that, gentle- 
 men, he cannot he dare not ; and if that person 
 suffered death illegally, it is monstrous that the fact 
 should be put forward in a court of justice, to support 
 the course of the law of which the fact itself was a 
 flagrant violation." 
 
4 86 Rory 0' More 
 
 " He deserved hanging," interrupted the counsel for 
 the crown. 
 
 " You are told he deserved hanging, gentlemen ; 
 but before you give a verdict on that assertion, I ex- 
 pect you will ask, did the punishment result from the 
 verdict of a jury and the sentence of a judge ? And 
 if it did not, I trust, gentlemen, you will not, by 
 receiving such evidence, violate the sanctuary of 
 justice, by letting a man's life depend on individual 
 opinion, nor take a receipt in full for human blood 
 from the hands of any man, even a justice of the 
 peace or a king's counsel." And he looked signi- 
 ficantly at the guilty magistrate on the bench, and 
 upon the prosecuting counsel, as he spoke. 
 
 One of the jury remarked in no very amiable tone, 
 to the barrister, 
 
 " You seem to forget, sir, that martial law exists in 
 this country at present." 
 
 u Forget it, sir ! " said the young advocate re- 
 proachfully ; " G d forbid I could have a heart so 
 callous as to forget it ! Have I not seen the lamp- 
 irons of our streets made the ready gibbet for the 
 readier vengeance of martial law, as if they selected 
 them to enlighten the public by the promptness of 
 their military measures? Forget it, sir ! no! nor 
 you, nor I, nor our children after us, shall forget it ! 
 But terrible as the tribunal of a court-martial is, 
 even when called at the drum-head, I would not 
 venture here to condemn, however I may lament, the 
 punishment which is recognised by the law. But this 
 deponent of whom I speak, this poor old helpless 
 man had not even a drum-head to look to, the only 
 likeness to it being the emptiness of the -head whose 
 ferocious folly condemned him ; but without word of 
 evidence, or question of life and death, even amongst 
 his own troop, this captain-magistrate hanged the 
 
Rory O'More 487 
 
 wretched man ! Yes, gentlemen, he was hanged, 
 untried and unshriven, less like a Christian than a dog ! 
 And yet, this is the condemnation which is called 
 in to invalidate the testimony of the condemned man ! 
 Condemned, do I say ? Gentlemen, I cannot 
 contain my indignation ; I will not say the man was 
 condemned, for the term bears with it the seeming of 
 legal punishment : he was not condemned he was 
 murdered ! " 
 
 From the first allusion made to the hanging of 
 Solomon, Justice Slink seemed rather uncomfortable. 
 As the advocate warmed into indignation, the captain 
 seemed to wince under the lash ; and though his 
 brow darkened and his face assumed a vengeful ex- 
 pression, yet was he afraid to lift his eye to meet the 
 bright indignant glance of the young barrister : but 
 when at last the atrocious act he had committed was 
 called by its right name, and he was denounced as a 
 murderer in open court, he dared to keep his seat no 
 longer, but hurried from the bench, forgetting in his 
 confusion to make the customary obeisance to the 
 
 judge- 
 Retiring to one of the rooms of the court-house 
 appropriated to the accommodation of the magistracy,, 
 he sent for Sweeny, and gave, through him, special 
 instructions to the counsel for the prosecution to 
 animadvert in his speech in reply upon the defendant 
 barrister's " atrocious attack " upon a loyal magistrate, 
 and to represent to the jury how the military party had 
 been entrapped into an ambuscade by the tinker, who 
 therefore " had every right to be hanged. And," added 
 the magisterial captain, "if any other judge than that 
 
 milk-and-water Lord A (who is half a rebel 
 
 himself) was on the bench, the Jacobite rascal who is 
 prating would not have been permitted to hold such 
 language against a loyal man." 
 VOL. n. 15 
 
488 Rory O'More 
 
 Sweeny returned to the court on his mission and 
 found the speech for the defence just about to con- 
 clude; the advocate trusting to the documentary 
 evidence put in for the acquittal of his client. 
 
 The jury were little more pleased than Justice 
 Slink himself at the boldness of the young lawyer: 
 for hanging-made-easy was more to their taste than is 
 desirable in gentlemen who sit on capital cases, and 
 they made no scruple of showing by their looks that 
 the speech for the prisoner was far from agreeable. 
 
 When the prosecuting counsel rose to reply, they 
 bestowed upon him the most marked attention; and 
 he proceeded to fill up the outline given to him by 
 Sweeny, at Captain Slink's desire. After defending 
 the act of hanging the tinker, he asked them how 
 could they believe the testimony of a rebel who had 
 suffered death for betraying the king's troops into an 
 ambuscade ; and which very testimony was given for 
 the purpose of hoodwinking a magistrate, and very 
 likely with a view to screen the prisoner at the bar, 
 who stood in the awkward predicament of being open 
 to the suspicion of being just as much a rebel as any 
 of them ? " You are told, gentlemen, he was out of 
 the country all the time of the rebellion, that he 
 was in France : and what brought him there, I ask ? 
 We have not been told what. It was a very suspi- 
 cious place to be in, at all events." 
 
 In this strain was he proceeding, when his speech 
 was interrupted by a bustle in the court, caused by the 
 fainting of Kathleen Regan, whose fears for Rory's 
 life were wrought to such a pitch that she sunk 
 beneath them, and much disturbance was occasioned 
 by the movement of the dense crowd in the court in 
 endeavouring to make a passage for her to the open 
 air. There at length she was conveyed, and in some 
 time restored to consciousness. Phelim O'Flanagan 
 
Rory O'More 489 
 
 was at her side, for he had undertaken the care of her, 
 as the Widow O'More and Mary were too dreadfully 
 interested in the trial to leave the court, where they 
 remained, as it were, in a state of fearful fascination ; 
 for though they stayed to hear the result, they feared the 
 worst from the nature of the prosecutor's reply, and 
 the manifest relish with which it was received by the 
 jury. 
 
 When Kathleen was able to speak, the first words 
 she said to Phelim were, " Where are they all 
 gone ? " 
 
 " Who, colleen, who ? " said Phelim. 
 
 " All thim people, and they staring so frightfully ! " 
 
 " Aisy, colleen dear ! aisy ! You '11 be betther in a 
 minit." 
 
 Kathleen drew her hand across her forehead, as if 
 in the act of recalling memory ; and then bursting 
 into tears, she cried, " I know it now, I know it, 
 I remember it all ! They '11 murder him, I know 
 they '11 have his life ! Oh, bring me back there 
 bring me back ! don't take me away from him as long 
 as he 's alive ! Phelim dear, take me back again ! " 
 
 " Stay here, my poor colleen ! it 's betther for you, 
 the hot coort will make you faint again." 
 
 "Oh, it wasn't the hot coort, Phelim, but the 
 cowld fear that came over my heart : but I '11 go back 
 again, I will." 
 
 "Wait a little longer at laste, darlin', until you're 
 more recovered. Indeed, you '11 faint agen if you go 
 back so soon." 
 
 The girl heeded him not as he spoke, but he felt 
 her hand grasp his arm with a convulsive pressure ; 
 and when he looked upon her, he saw her eyes fixed 
 in a gaze of wild eagerness towards the street, as she 
 gasped forth rapidly, " Look ! look ! for God's sake, 
 look ! There, there ! it is! it is him ! " 
 
490 Rory 'More 
 
 " Who, darlin', who ? " 
 
 " The collecthor ! collecthor ! Oh, great God ! " 
 
 Springing from Phelim's arms, she rushed into the 
 street ; and seizing the reins of a horse which a 
 traveller was riding up the road, she clasped the 
 knees of the horseman, and screamed rather than 
 spoke to him : "Get off get off, and save his 
 life! For the love of God, get off, and save him ! " 
 
 It was Scrubbs whom she addressed. He had 
 escaped from France, and by a singular coincidence 
 arrived at this opportune moment to save the life of 
 the man who had saved his, and was at that mo- 
 ment under trial for his murder. 
 
 It would be impossible to describe the sensation 
 produced among the bystanders at the extraordinary 
 occurrence ; and it was not without much fear on his 
 part that Scrubbs was almost lifted from his horse, 
 and hurried into the court-house, Kathleen clinging 
 to his side all the time, and uttering hysteric 
 exclamations. 
 
 It was just at this moment the prosecutor was 
 winding up his reply. " You are told, gentlemen, the 
 prisoner was carried away to France by force, and in 
 company with Mr. Scrubbs: but the prisoner returns, 
 and no tidings have we of the other. The prisoner 
 cannot give a satisfactory account of himself. What 
 brought him to France? who was he with in 
 France ? how did he get back from France ? 
 why does not the collector come back too ? Gentle- 
 men, the question is, which you value most, a gentle- 
 man's life, or a tinker's testimony, the testimony 
 of a rebel, who died the death he deserved ? Until 
 they can produce me Mr. Scrubbs, I remain incredu- 
 lous. My answer to all they have said is, ' Where is 
 the collector ? ' ' 
 
 As he was about to wind up a grand peroration, the 
 
Rory O'More 491 
 
 distant sound of the murmur of excitement and 
 agitation in the crowd which thronged every avenue 
 to the court interrupted the attention of the audience. 
 The crier was ordered to command silence ; but, in 
 defiance of that functionary's mandate, the sound 
 increased, like that of rushing waters, and above it all 
 the hysteric laugh and wail of a woman rang wildly 
 through the court. There was a momentary pause, 
 in which the counsel, repeating his conclusive ques- 
 tion, exclaimed," Again I say, where is the collector? " 
 
 The lovely girl, with streaming hair and out- 
 stretched arms, forced her way into the court, and 
 screamed, " He 's here! he's here!" And then 
 the wild laugh which forced her flushed face into an 
 expression of terrible mirth, while the tears were 
 streaming down it, again rang round the court, which 
 was absolutely appalled into silence. u He 's here ! " 
 she exclaimed again. "Great God, I thank you! 
 I 've saved him ! I 've saved him ! " And then she 
 relapsed into heart-breaking sobs. 
 
 u Remove that poor girl from the court," said Lord 
 
 A , whose gentle heart was quite overcome by the 
 
 scene ; " remove her, and take care of her." 
 
 It would be impossible minutely to detail all which 
 immediately followed ; the surprise, the commotion, 
 the impossibility to command order for some minutes. 
 All this can be better imagined than described ; and 
 therefore we shall not attempt to paint the startling 
 scene that passed until Kathleen Regan was with- 
 drawn from the court. Then Mr. Scrubbs was pro- 
 duced on the table ; and scores of witnesses were on 
 the spot to identify him, indeed every man on the 
 jury knew him. 
 
 Order was not obtained for many minutes, and it 
 required some interval to restore to Lord A suffi- 
 cient tranquillity to command his judicial dignity in 
 
492 Rory 0' More 
 
 addressing the jury, which he did in a few words, 
 nearly as follows : 
 
 " Gentlemen of the jury, Your duties have been 
 terminated in a very singular and affecting manner. 
 By one of those interpositions of the Divine will 
 which the Almighty is sometimes pleased to vouch- 
 safe in evidence of his eternal providence, a human 
 life has been preserved even when it was in the most 
 imminent danger " 
 
 Lord A paused, for his feelings were yet an 
 
 overmatch for his power of composure ; and in the 
 interval the foreman of the jury said to his brothers, 
 with a nod of assumption, 
 
 " He means our friend Scrubbs ; wonderful es- 
 cape indeed !" 
 
 Lord A resumed, " Gentlemen, it has been 
 
 the will of Heaven to make manifest the innocence 
 of an accused man, when all other hope had failed 
 him, save that of the merciful God who has been his 
 protector ! " 
 
 Lord A could proceed no further ; and many 
 
 a stifled sob was heard in the court every where but 
 in the jury-box. 
 
 " Gentlemen," resumed Lord A , " though the 
 
 trial is at an end, it becomes necessary, as a matter of 
 form, you should return a verdict." 
 
 Singularly contrasting to the subdued voice of the 
 judge, subdued by the operation of his feelings, was 
 the tone in which the foreman of the jury, with a 
 smirk, answered without a moment's hesitation, 
 
 " We are all agreed, my lord." 
 
 "Of course," replied Lord A , passing a hand- 
 kerchief across his eyes. " Return your verdict, if 
 you please, gentlemen." 
 
 " Guilty, my lord," said the foreman, with an 
 assumed suavity of voice and manner. 
 
Rory 0' More 493 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir," said the judge; "your 
 feelings have overcome you as well as many others 
 present : you said Guilty of course you mean Not 
 guilty." 
 
 " No, my Lord, we mean, Guilty." 
 
 The words were now pronounced sufficiently loud 
 to be audible over the court, and a wild scream from 
 the women followed, while the upturned eyes of every 
 one in court at the jury-box testified their astonish- 
 ment. Even the common crier was lost in wonder, 
 and forgot, in his surprise, the accustomed call of 
 "Silence!" in response to the shrieks of the 
 women. 
 
 " Good God, sir ! " exclaimed Lord A ad- 
 dressing the foreman, " have you eyes and ears, and 
 yet return such a verdict ! The prisoner at the bar 
 is accused of the murder of a certain man : that very 
 man is produced on the table before you, and identi- 
 fied in your presence, a living evidence of the pris- 
 oner's innocence, and yet you return a verdict 
 against him of Guilty ! " 
 
 " We do, my lord," said the foreman pertinaciously, 
 and with an offended air, as if he considered it a 
 grievance his verdict should be questioned. 
 
 " Will you be good enough, sir," said Lord A , 
 
 changing his tone from that of wonder to irony, " to 
 tell me upon what count in the indictment he is 
 guilty ? for really I am not lawyer enough to 
 discover." 
 
 " We should be sorry, my lord, to dispute any 
 point of law with your lordship ; but the fact is, my 
 lord, you don't know this country as well as we do, 
 and we can swear upon the oath we have taken this 
 day, that the prisoner ought to have been hanged long ago^ 
 and we say, Guilty, my lord ! " 
 
 Lord A could not withdraw the look of 
 
494 
 
 mingled wonder and indignation he fixed on the jury 
 for a moment , and when he did, he transferred his 
 eye to the prisoner, but in its transit the look of 
 asperity was gone, and an eye beaming with benignity 
 met the bright and unflinching look of Rory. 
 
 " Prisoner at the bar ! " said Lord A , whose 
 
 address turned every eye upon the prisoner. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, my lord," said one of the 
 magistrates sitting on the bench, " your lordship has 
 forgotten to put on your black cap." 
 
 " No, sir, I have not forgotten it. Prisoner at the 
 bar," continued the judge, u I feel it my duty to tell 
 you that, notwithstanding the verdict you have heard 
 pronounced upon you, not a hair of your head shall be 
 harmed ! " 
 
 A loud " Hurra ! " interrupted the continuation of 
 the address ; and the crier's voice, after some time, 
 was heard shouting " Silence ! " After the lapse of 
 about a minute, order was obtained ; and before Lord 
 
 A could resume, the foreman said, loud enough 
 
 to be heard for a considerable distance, 
 
 " No wonder the rebels shout ! " 
 
 Lord A noticed not this impertinence, directly, 
 
 but ordered the crier again to command silence ; and 
 when that functionary had done so, his lordship added, 
 fixing his eye on the insolent offender, " And whoever 
 dares again to violate the decency and solemnity of 
 this court, I will commit him." 
 
 The bullying foreman quailed before the dignified 
 rebuke, and his lordship proceeded in a business-like 
 tone to the whole jury : 
 
 " I cannot avoid, gentlemen, receiving and record- 
 ing your verdict ; which neither can I resist stigmatis- 
 ing as disgraceful to yourselves individually and 
 collectively, for you must be either fools or worse. 
 But I am not bound to pronounce sentence on the 
 
Rory O'More 495 
 
 prisoner on that verdict, and I will not ; neither will 
 I rest this night until I despatch a special messenger 
 to the lord-lieutenant, to represent the case and have 
 your verdict set aside: and I promise here, in open 
 court, to the prisoner, that with all convenient speed 
 he shall be liberated from prison." 
 
 After the admonition of the judge to the jurymen, 
 the assembled multitude had sufficient good taste to 
 repress any tumultuous expression of joy; but a low 
 murmur of pleasure ran round the court, and Kathleen, 
 and Mary and her mother embraced Rory across the 
 bar before he was withdrawn, under the gaoler's care. 
 
 The jury was discharged, the judge left the bench, 
 and the court became gradually deserted when the 
 exciting cause which had crowded its interior to 
 suffocation was over ; but there were little knots in 
 its whereabouts, talking over the stirring events of the 
 day under feelings of varied excitement. The jury- 
 men, before they separated, animadverted upon the 
 extraordinary conduct of the judge in no measured 
 terms. 
 
 " By G d ! sir," said the foreman to his brothers^ 
 " there 's an end of our glorious constitution if these 
 things are permitted to go on ! What 's the use of 
 trial by jury, if a jury can't hang any man they think 
 fit ? I ask you what's the use of a jury otherwise ? 
 But here 's a d d rebel judge comes down and 
 refuses to hang him : you know, if that 's permitted, 
 there 's an end to all justice ! 't is the judge is the 
 jury in that case, and all the vagabonds in the country 
 may do what they like." 
 
 "I think," added another, " ttiat we should send an 
 address to the lord-lieutenant, signed by us all in 
 person, protesting against the injustice, and declaring 
 the danger to the constitution if such a daring pro- 
 ceeding as a judge daring to presume to refuse a 
 
496 Rory O'More 
 
 verdict is dared to be permitted in such times as these, 
 with popery and slavery, brass money and wooden 
 shoes staring us in the face ! Sir, the lord-lieutenant 
 himself would n't dare to refuse such address ! " 
 
 " I don't think he would, sir," said a third. " You 
 know, if property is not represented, what becomes of 
 the country ? And here is twelve men of property, 
 and a rebel judge refuses to take their verdict, 
 which is, as I say, not representing the property of the 
 country : and if property is not represented, what 
 becomes of British connection I should like to 
 know that ! What will the lord-lieutenant say to 
 that ? " 
 
 " He can't do less than suspend the judge per 
 tumperis, and we '11 address him to that effect sine die, 
 that 's my motto : and when the matter is properly 
 represented to the minister " 
 
 " I think it should go before the bishop," inter- 
 rupted a juryman. 
 
 " My good friend, when I say ' the minister,' I don't 
 mean the minister that is, the minister you mean- 
 the Protestant minister : / mean the ministerial 
 minister." 
 
 " Oh ! I beg pardon I see : you mean the big- 
 wigs at th' other side. Very good capital idea ! 
 Suppose we were to sign a deputation to them, and 
 forward it, paying the postage of course? ' 
 
 " That would be only respectful," said one of them 
 who had not yet spoken. 
 
 u What 's this you 're all talking about ? " said 
 Sweeny, who now joined the group. 
 
 " About this extraordinary affair." 
 
 " Certainly," said the apothecary-yeomanry-attor- 
 ney ; "most infamous! Never witnessed such a 
 decision in all my life a judge refusing to purge the 
 country ! Where 's our constitution if the country 's 
 
Rory O'More 497 
 
 not purged ? I ask any gentleman that. Such 
 conduct in a judge is most extraordinary I may say, 
 miraculous ! It is a sort of premium on rebellion ; 
 in fact, a bonus" 
 
 "They'll bone us all, sir," said the foreman, "if 
 they 're not put down ; and the only way of putting 
 them down is hanging them up." 
 
 "Hang them, certainly hang them!" said a 
 bacon-merchant, whose customs of hanging flitches 
 rendered him callous to the practice in general. 
 
 "We were just talking, Mr. Sweeny, when you 
 came," said the foreman, " of addressing a deputa- 
 tion to the ministerial minister on this matter." 
 
 " An excellent idea ! " replied Sweeny. 
 
 " We were thinking of drawing up a letter " 
 
 " I would recommend it to be engrossed," said the 
 attorney. 
 
 " Very good suggestion, gentlemen," added the 
 foreman. " We must get our friend Sweeny to en- 
 gross the deputation." 
 
 " It will be more respectful," said the respectable 
 man who backed the suggestion of paying the 
 postage. 
 
 " Now, who '1! write it ? " inquired the foreman, 
 with a certain conscious air, in asking the question, 
 that he himself was the proper person. 
 
 "Oh, you you, of course," was answered by 
 more than one. 
 
 " Why, really," said the foreman bashfully, " I 
 think we ought to club our heads." 
 
 " Sir," said Sweeny, grinning, thereby giving every 
 one notice he was going to say a good thing, " the 
 rebels are ready enough to club our heads without 
 doing it ourselves ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! " 
 
 A corresponding grin and " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " fol- 
 lowed Sweeny's witticism ; and a running fire of 
 
498 Rory 0" More 
 
 " Very good ! very good ! " went the round of the 
 jurymen. 
 
 " But I do think," continued the foreman, " this 
 deputation thing should be done by a comit-ee." 
 
 " No one can do it better than you, worthy fore- 
 man," said Sweeny, toadying the man who so readily 
 backed his attempt at the engrossing job. 
 
 "I think so too," said the postage-man: "you 
 have the pen of a ready-writer, sir." 
 
 " True," said Sweeny ; " or, as we say, correcto cal- 
 omel. Then, my dear sir, as it seems to be the general 
 wish of the jury or, as I may say, pro con that 
 you are to do it, I '11 go along with you and take your 
 instructions." 
 
 This terminated the jury consultation ; and Sweeny 
 was walking off with the foreman, when one of the 
 constables addressed him, to say that his honour 
 Justice Slink wanted to speak to him. 
 
 " Then I must be off," said Sweeny. " You see I 
 am so engaged ! in short, I 'm a fee-totum, I might 
 almost say, a /^-totum, for I 'm going round and 
 round them all. I '11 go over to you, however, to 
 breakfast to-morrow, and take the instructions." 
 
 Sweeny followed the constable, who led him to a 
 room in the court-house where Slink awaited him. 
 The brow of the justice was clouded, and his tone 
 was angry as he addressed the attorney. 
 
 u A pretty bungle Scrubbs has made of this 
 business ! " 
 
 " My dear justice, it is not his fault, after all." 
 
 "Pooh! pooh! didn't we tell him on no 
 account to appear until the rascal's trial was over ? " 
 
 " So we did. But, you see, the trial occurred a 
 day later than we calculated, and I told Scrubbs he 
 might go home on Wednesday." 
 
 " Zounds ! why did n't you stop him ? " 
 
Rory O'More 499 
 
 u I endeavoured to do so, my dear justice, by send- 
 ing over a messenger last night -, but he missed him." 
 
 " It 's d d unfortunate ! that 's all I can say," 
 said Slink. " Come home, however, and dine with 
 me ; I 'm as hungry as a hawk, kicking my heels 
 here about the court all day, and for no good, since 
 that rebel has escaped. Come along ! it can't be 
 helped, the old saying, you know, ' The devil's 
 children have the devil's luck;' and so that rascal 
 Rory O'More has cheated the gallows." 
 
 u We may be down on him yet," said Sweeny, 
 following the magistrate homewards to eat a good 
 dinner, with a good appetite, notwithstanding the 
 conspiracy he had joined in against a fellow-creature's 
 life : for being apprised of Scrubbs's return to Ireland 
 before the trial, he and the justice considered it an 
 ingenious device to induce the collector to remain con- 
 cealed until it was over, for the purpose of hanging an 
 innocent man, whom they considered a dangerous 
 person but whose life, by the interference of Provi- 
 dence, was preserved from the murderous attempt ; 
 and he, in defence of whose liberty poor Rory had 
 encountered so many perils, and whose trial arose 
 from that very cause, even he was miscreant enough 
 to join the horrible conspiracy, and consent to the 
 murder of the man who had been his champion. 
 
 Yet this atrocious triad were considered eminently 
 useful persons by the Irish executive at that period ; 
 and it was of such persons it was said by the adherents 
 of government, " that the country would be lost with- 
 out them." And, indeed, government seemed to 
 think so too : for Sweeny rapidly rose in law prefer- 
 ment, being made crown-solicitor for the district ; 
 Scrubbs was advanced to a place of great emolument 
 in the metropolitan custom-house ; and Justice Slink 
 was created a knight, and in due time a baronet. 
 
CHAPTER XLV 
 
 SHOWING HOW THE VERDICT FOR THE HANGING 
 OF ONE PRODUCES THE BANISHMENT OF MANY 
 
 IT was with feelings of intense anxiety De Lacy 
 awaited the return of his friend from the court- 
 house ; and with open arms he received him, when he 
 saw by the expression of his countenance all was 
 right before he had spoken a word. 
 
 " He 's safe," said the lawyer. 
 
 "Thanks! thanks! my dear friend," exclaimed 
 De Lacy, pressing his hand with fervour. " Have 
 you brought him with you ? " 
 
 " He is not yet liberated." 
 
 u And why not after his acquittal ? " 
 
 " I did not say he was acquitted ; I only said he 
 was safe. There now, don't look so wretchedly 
 anxious ; let me sit down, for I am exhausted, and 
 I will tell you all about it." 
 
 He then hastily gave him a sketch of the trial ; 
 and when he repeated the verdict of the jury, De 
 Lacy fancied he was only joking. 
 
 " I assure you, 't is true." 
 
 u What ! find a man guilty of murder when the 
 person he is accused of murdering is produced before 
 them." 
 
 " True as gospel, I protest." 
 
 " My good fellow, I cannot believe, surely, you 're 
 joking ! " 
 
Rory 0' More 501 
 
 " On my honour, then, since you won't believe 
 less, it is the fact." 
 
 " But, surely, they cannot hang him ? " 
 
 " Fortunately for him, they cannot ; but they would 
 if they could. Lord A n e, I need not tell you, 
 would not pronounce sentence on such a verdict, and 
 even assured the prisoner, before he quitted the bench, 
 that his life was in no danger : however, he could not 
 help allowing the verdict to be recorded." 
 
 u And what a record ! " exclaimed De Lacy ; 
 " what a brand of infamy and folly upon the men 
 who gave it, and the times in which we live ! One 
 might laugh at the absurdity of the act, only for its 
 atrocity ; but here, really mirth is reproved by horror, 
 and the smile gives place to a shudder." 
 
 " My dear fellow, don't be so eloquent, remem- 
 ber 't was an Irish verdict," said his friend, who 
 smiled at De Lacy's warmth. 
 
 "Nay, nay, I cannot trifle on this matter I can- 
 not ! Good God ! what man's life is safe here under 
 such circumstances ? " 
 
 " Oh, don't mistake me, De Lacy ; 't was only for 
 the sake of rousing your virtuous indignation I said 
 what I did : and remember, my dear fellow, after all, 
 your Rory 's safe. But, seriously speaking, it is cer- 
 tainly a most rascally affair, and I quite agree in every 
 word you have uttered." 
 
 " Well," said De Lacy, after a moment's silence 
 and with a long-drawn sigh, " I 'm doomed to be dis- 
 appointed in every thing ! I returned to my country 
 with a desire of being a useful member of society 
 of becoming a quiet and unoffending subject even 
 under the system such as it is, of doing all the 
 good within my power ; and, so help me Heaven ! 
 I had thoroughly renounced all the romantic specula- 
 tions in which you know I have indulged, and hoped 
 
502 Rory O'More 
 
 to be permitted at least to live unmolested ; and even 
 these humble expectations are dashed to destruction 
 the moment my foot touches my native soil, the 
 life of an innocent man is sought to be sacrificed to 
 the demon of party hate in the face of the very laws : 
 even in her temple ! By all that 's sacred, I would 
 not live in such a country to be king of it ! Now, 
 Ireland poor Ireland ! farewell ! As soon as I can 
 put my foot on the deck of a free country's vessel, 
 I will leave you ; an American ship shall bear me to 
 her shores, and I will place the Atlantic between me 
 and the blood-hounds that I see are bent on hunting 
 this poor country to death ! " 
 
 " Do not be too hasty, De Lacy : you may do 
 much good here by remaining ; you may live to be 
 the poor man's friend, and become the protector of 
 the weak against the strong." 
 
 " If I thought so, my friend," returned De Lacy, 
 whose flushed cheek betrayed the warmth of his 
 emotion, " I would stay : but the tide runs too 
 strong to make head against / the protector of the 
 weak against the strong ? What mortal power may 
 interpose when the divine emanation from heaven 
 when Truth herself cannot screen the victim from the 
 destroyer ! That verdict has not succeeded as it was 
 intended to do in murdering an innocent man; but 
 it has banished another, who meant to do all in his 
 power to benefit his country." 
 
 " Well, we '11 talk of this another time," said his 
 friend, who wished to divert him from the theme of 
 his indignation. " As you desired, I have directed 
 the three poor women who walked all the way from 
 their village to the town this morning, to come to the 
 inn for rest and refreshment." 
 
 " True," said De Lacy ; " I forgot ; I wish 
 much to see them, now that all is over and my pres- 
 
Rory 'More 503 
 
 ence in the country need not be kept a secret : are 
 they here ? " 
 
 " I left them to follow, wishing to hasten to you 
 with the news." 
 
 At this moment the door was opened by a great 
 hulking fellow, with bristling hair, staring eyes, high 
 cheek-bones, a snub nose, and a great mouth with a 
 voice to match, who enacted the part of waiter; and 
 the aforesaid, protruding his head, and nothing more 
 into the room, said as loudly and as rapidly, and with 
 as great a brogue as it could well- be said, " If you 
 plaze, sir " 
 
 " What do you want ?" said the lawyer. 
 
 " If you plaze, sir, there 's wan a wantin' you." 
 
 "Who is it?" 
 
 " Three women, sir." 
 
 " And are three women one ? " said the lawyer, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Only wan tfxVfor you, sir," answered the waiter, 
 grinning, ready with his answer. 
 
 " And could n't you say so ? " 
 
 " By dad, sir, it was the owld one o' the three ax'd 
 for you ; and th' other two is mighty purty, and so 
 I thought they would be a grate help : and that 's 
 the rayson." 
 
 " Show them up." 
 
 Off went the waiter and in a few seconds the 
 sound of ascending footsteps announced the approach 
 of Rory's mother and sister, and Kathleen Regan. 
 The door opened. Mary O'More was the first to 
 enter, and De Lacy, advancing to her with extended 
 hand, said in a voice full of kindness, " Mary, I am 
 glad to see you." 
 
 The girl could not repress a faint scream, and, not- 
 withstanding a manifest effort to control her feelings, 
 her sudden flushing and subsequent pallor betrayed 
 VOL. n. 16 
 
504 Rory 0' More 
 
 how powerfully the unexpected appearance of De 
 Lacy acted upon her. 
 
 " I did not let you know sooner I was here ; but I 
 would not be far from Rory, Mary, in his time of 
 need." 
 
 " God bless you ! God bless you ! " faltered Mary, 
 almost suffocating with contending emotions, which 
 were too much for her, and the poor girl, falling upon 
 her knees, kissed De Lacy's hand fervently, and, with 
 half-uttered blessings, sank insensible to the ground. 
 
 De Lacy lifted the fainting girl, and bore her to a 
 sofa near the window, which was immediately thrown 
 open for the admission of fresh air. A few minutes 
 served to revive her, and a glass of water partly re- 
 stored her to composure; but still she exhibited signs 
 of agitation, and the mother said, " Sure, 't was no 
 wondher, after all the craythur had gone through that 
 day." 
 
 " No wonder indeed, Mrs. O'More," said De Lacy. 
 41 But, after all, my friend Rory is safe." 
 
 " Oh, but is he safe, sir, do you think ? " 
 
 "As safe as I am," said the lawyer; " do not en- 
 tertain the least uneasiness." 
 
 u But sure they gave in c Guilty,' the villains, they 
 did, and my boy is taken back to goal ! " 
 
 u That cannot be helped, and I cannot explain to 
 you why he must remain in prison for a couple of 
 days; but, take my word, he's in no danger." 
 
 " Oh, I can hardly venture my heart with the 
 belief until I see him out o' gaol." 
 
 "Take my word too, Mrs. O'More," said De Lacy, 
 " and you, too, Kathleen, Rory will be with us in a 
 couple of days." 
 
 Kathleen could not speak, but, clasping her hands 
 and pressing them to her bosom, she looked her thanks 
 more touchingly than language could have told them. 
 
Rory 'More 505 
 
 " And you, Mary," added De Lacy, turning again 
 to the sofa, where Mary still sat with her eyes fixed 
 on the ground, ashamed of the emotion which the 
 unexpected presence of De Lacy had caused, " you, 
 too, must cheer up. And how have you been all 
 the time Rory and I have been away ? You 've had 
 hard times of it, Mary, since the Sunday I left the 
 cottage : but I must have my little room there again, 
 for a few days." 
 
 " Ah, sir ! " sighed the widow, " you '11 never see 
 your little room agin ! the owld house was burnt in 
 the beginning o' the bad times ! " 
 
 u Burnt ! " exclaimed De Lacy, who had not before 
 heard of the calamity. 
 
 " Ay, indeed, sir, and every thing in it, but jist 
 ourselves and the clothes on our backs ; and little o' 
 thim, for we wor hunted out of our beds, and not a 
 shred or a scrap did we save, barrin' the books you 
 left behind you : and Mary, the craythur, thought o' 
 thim in the middle of it all, for the regard she had for 
 thim, and no wondher ! " 
 
 Mary reddened to the very forehead as her mother 
 spoke. 
 
 " And, sure, you are the rale and thrue friend, Mr. 
 De Lacy," continued the widow. " To think of 
 your bein' here yourself, let alone that good gintle- 
 man you sent to us in our throuble ! Oh ! may the 
 Lord reward you ! But tell me, sir, do you think 
 indeed my darling boy is safe ? " 
 
 " Perfectly safe, rest satisfied on that point. 
 And now, Mrs. O'More, come over here and sit 
 down at the table ; we all want some refreshment ; 
 come over." 
 
 " It 's time, sir, we should be goin' home ; we 
 have a good step to walk, and " 
 
 "You must not leave the town this evening," 
 
506 Rory O'More 
 
 said De Lacy. " I have ordered you all beds here 
 to-night ; therefore you may take your dinner in 
 comfort, and we will have a talk over old times, 
 Mrs. O'More." 
 
 As he spoke, the waiter entered with a hot joint, and 
 slapped down the dish on the table, spilling half the 
 gravy over the tablecloth, and upsetting a couple of 
 glasses, which reached the ground with a grand smash. 
 
 " Bad luck to thim for glasses they 're always 
 fallin' ! " said he, as he picked up the larger pieces 
 of the broken glass and threw them into the fire. 
 
 Mrs. O'More protested for some time against 
 dining, declaring it was too much trouble, &c. ; all 
 of which meant, on her part as well as that of the 
 girls, that they felt awkward in sitting down to table 
 with the strange gentleman. De Lacy had often 
 been the companion of their dinner in their own 
 cabin; but now that he was in a hotel, and with the 
 presence of a second person of superior rank, it made 
 all the difference. However, their modest scruples 
 were at length overcome, and the easy and unaffected 
 bearing of the barrister set them soon as much at ease 
 as they could be under such circumstances. 
 
 In the course of the evening the lawyer could not 
 avoid remarking the downcast looks of Mary O'More, 
 and the timid glances she sometimes ventured to cast 
 towards De Lacy ; and this when considered together 
 with the beauty of the girl, raised certain surmises in 
 the mind of the young lawyer which were not justi- 
 fied by any conduct on the part of his friend. The 
 women retired soon after dinner; and, indeed, the 
 fatigues of the day made an early retreat to bed 
 absolutely necessary. 
 
 When De Lacy and his friend were alone, the 
 latter remarked, what a lovely specimen Mary O'More 
 presented of a peasant girl. 
 
Rory O'More 507 
 
 "They are both handsome girls," answered 
 De Lacy. 
 
 " That 's an ingenious escape, my friend," said 
 the lawyer, " but, if I 'm not greatly mistaken, you 
 have been making sad work with that poor girl's 
 heart." 
 
 " Do you imagine I could be such a scoundrel ? " 
 answered De Lacy, rather warmly. 
 
 " My good fellow, I don't mean you would harbour 
 a dishonourable intention to man or woman breath- 
 ing; but, somehow or other that poor girl is desper- 
 ately in love with you, however it has taken place. 
 Did you not observe her emotion at sight of you, 
 her not daring to meet your eyes ? and I could see 
 many a bashful look at you when she thought herself 
 unobserved." 
 
 " My dear Hal," said De Lacy, " it is only grati- 
 tude for my care of her brother, nothing more it 
 can be nothing more." 
 
 " Maybe so," said the lawyer, who saw the subject 
 had better be dropped ; and turning the conversation 
 into another channel, they chatted and sipped their 
 wine until it was time to retire to rest. 
 
 The lawyer did retire to rest, but De Lacy only 
 went to bed. He could not rest : his anxiety during 
 the day, his indignation at the verdict, his determina- 
 tion to leave the country, and the dawning projects 
 which opened on his speculative mind with relation 
 to his intended removal to America, kept him in a 
 state of wakefulness. Then the remarks of his friend 
 before they parted for the night had more influence 
 upon him than his answers would have led one to 
 suppose : though he affected to disbelieve the source 
 of Mary O'More's emotion, the evidence had not 
 been unnoticed by himself, and it made him unhappy. 
 Then her mother's little anecdote of his books being 
 
508 Rory 0' More 
 
 the only things saved from the ruin of their cottage 
 when it was devoted to the flames : the cause was 
 plain enough to give a libertine pleasure, but a man 
 of principle, pain. 
 
 " Poor girl ! " thought De Lacy, " I would not for 
 the world that I should prove the cause of such an 
 innocent and lovely creature's unhappiness ! I should 
 never forgive myself. And yet, why should I say 
 forgive ? I never breathed a word nor made the 
 slightest allusion to awaken such a sentiment in her 
 heart ; but then I lived under the same roof for some 
 months, was constantly in her presence, and gave her 
 those unfortunate books : that was unwise I see it 
 was ; but, God knows my heart ! it was innocently 
 done. What unaccountable things are human feel- 
 ings ! Here is this poor peasant girl betrayed into an 
 attachment of which she must know the hopelessness ; 
 for she is a sensible creature, and who would shudder 
 at the suspicion being entertained of her indulging an 
 unrequited affection, for she is delicate-minded as one 
 more highly born. And yet she does love, I fear me ; 
 and reason awakes but to warn her to conceal what it 
 was not strong enough to prevent. Alas ! how often 
 feeling triumphs over reason ! how unequal is the 
 struggle between them ! How are we to account for 
 this unequal balance ? Why is this reason given as 
 a guide if there be insufficiency in its guidance on 
 any occasion or in any trial ? why ? " And thus 
 De Lacy fell into a train of metaphysical musing, 
 which sent him to sleep, as it would do the reader 
 were I to recount it. 
 
CHAPTER XLVI 
 
 IN WHICH RORY FOLLOWS DE LACY's ADVICE AND 
 HIS OWN INCLINATIONS 
 
 LORD A N E was as good as his word : he 
 lost no time irr representing Rory's case to the 
 lord-lieutenant, and procuring his discharge from 
 prison. When he was at liberty, De Lacy told him 
 his intention of leaving Ireland, and recommended 
 him to bear him company, as he did not consider his 
 life would be safe if he remained. 
 
 " Arrah ! how could I lave the mother and Mary, 
 and ? " 
 
 " Kathleen," added De Lacy. 
 
 " Yis," said Rory, smiling. " I don't deny it, 
 though you never gave me a hint o' that before." 
 
 " I can see as far into a millstone as most people, 
 Rory. Now I do not want you to leave them : they 
 can bear you company." 
 
 " Sure, they 'd feel mighty sthrange in France, 
 sir." 
 
 " I did not say a word about France. What 
 would you think of America ? " 
 
 " Oh, that 's another affair ! But how could I 
 take them there ? we are not as snug as we were 
 wanst ; and that would take a power o' money." 
 
 " Money has nothing to do with the question, 
 Rory. Come with me. I intend selling off every 
 thing I am worth, and going to the back settlements 
 of America : there I shall buy a large tract of ground, 
 
510 Rory O'More 
 
 and shall want many about me ; and how much 
 better for me to have those I know and regard than 
 strangers ! You shall be my head man there, Rory, 
 and teach me to farm. And before you go, set your 
 heart at rest on one project I know it is bent upon : 
 you shall marry Kathleen Regan to-morrow if you 
 like." 
 
 " That 's a grate temptation ! " said Rory. 
 
 11 But, whether you come or not, Rory, let not 
 want of money in any way stand between you and 
 your wishes : I will give Kathleen a marriage-por- 
 tion, enough to set you up in comfort again. If you 
 remain here, which, however, I strongly advise 
 you against after the specimen you have had of Irish 
 justice the other day, what can you expect but per- 
 secution in this unfortunate country ? You may 
 marry and have a family, and leave them fatherless 
 some day by a sudden and violent death; while, if 
 you come with me, you may live to see them grow 
 up about you, helping you in the cultivation of your 
 farm, and becoming the props of your age." 
 
 " Misther De Lacy, I can't thank you, sir in 
 throth I can't, for all your heart to me. I won't 
 spake I can't spake ; " and the poor fellow paused 
 and drew his hand across his eyes : " but you 've 
 made me the happiest fellow in Ireland this day. 
 God bless you ! Oh, thin, but it 's I that will 
 marry my darlin' girl the very minit she '11 let me 
 spake to the priest ; and that '11 be smart, if I 've my 
 own way. So you see, sir, I 'm no churl in refusing 
 your bounty, but take your offer with a heart and a 
 half; and may you get the reward of all your 
 kindness to me, in meeting a girl that 's worthy of 
 yourself, and will love you as my own Kathleen 
 loves me ; and that you may taste the pleasure your- 
 self you have bestowed on me, in the prospect of 
 
Rory O'More 511 
 
 hugging to my heart the girl of my bosom ! Sure, 
 little I thought " 
 
 " Rory, my dear fellow, say no more, say no 
 more : you 're too grateful." 
 
 " That 's what no man can be, sir. I would n't be 
 mane, and I 'm sure you know it ; but, by the 
 powers! I'd take the heart out of my body if I 
 could, and lay it undher the feet of the one that was 
 kind and generous to me." 
 
 " There now, Rory, that 's enough, say no 
 more. You 're a good fellow, and a kind and de- 
 serve more than that at my hands : and now tell me, 
 will you come with me ? or shall I get you a little farm 
 here ? " 
 
 u Throth, I '11 be said and led by you, that 's such 
 a good frind. It goes agin me hard. I don't deny it, 
 to lave the owld counthry, and the places my heart 
 warms to at the sight of. Sure, I used to dhrame of 
 thim when I was with you in France; and could see 
 the river, and the hills, and the cottage, and the owld 
 rath, as plain as if I was on the spot : and won't it 
 be the same when I 'm in another strange land ? - 
 my heart will be always longing afther my darlin' 
 Ireland, and the owld tunes of her be ringin' in my 
 ears all day. Oh, but the shamrocks is close at my 
 heart / " 
 
 u Rory, there are many of our countrymen in 
 America; and there you will feel less difference of 
 country, from the use of the same language. But I 
 do not want to force your inclinations : if you wish 
 to remain in Ireland, do so ; but I decidedly recom- 
 mend you not." 
 
 " Thin I '11 do what you recommend, sir. I '11 
 follow you : and, indeed, I b'lieve you 're right 
 enough, for the poor counthry is ground down to 
 powdher, and will be worse, I 'm afeard. So, in the 
 
512 
 
 Lord's name ! poor Ireland, good b'ye to you ! though, 
 God knows, it cuts me to the heart's core to quit 
 you. I 'm foolish, Misther De Lacy, I know I 'm 
 foolish; so I'll bid you good mornin', sir, and set 
 off to Knockbrackin, and ask the girl to have me, 
 and tell her that it 's yourself is more than a father 
 to her, and gives her the fortune. And may the 
 angels " 
 
 " There there now, Rory ; no more thanks. 
 But, as you say I am more than Kathleen's father, it 
 reminds me that I must not be less than her father; 
 so I will give her away." 
 
 " Musha ! but you 're the very sowl of good nature, 
 Misther De Lacy. By all that 's good, your heart is 
 nothing but a honeycomb ! " 
 
 " Be off, now, Rory : and give Kathleen my com- 
 pliments, and tell her she must name next Sunday for 
 her wedding ; for I perceive, by an advertisement in 
 this paper I 've been reading, that a ship sails in ten 
 days from Cork; and I am going there to make 
 arrangements for my passage. Will you say at once, 
 you and yours will come in the same ship ? " 
 
 " In God's name, sir, yis ! " said Rory reverently. 
 " I know they '11 all do what you think best, with as 
 ready a heart as myself." 
 
 " Farewell, then, Rory ! Next Sunday I shall be at 
 Knockbrackin, to give you Kathleen : and I wish 
 you joy with her! -There now, be off! not a 
 word more. Go, and get yourself and your pretty 
 wife ready for Sunday." 
 
 Rory departed, and De Lacy, when he was gone, 
 ordered a postchaise for Cork. He there made all 
 arrangements requisite for the passage of himself and 
 his dependants, and was ready to keep his appoint- 
 ment at Knockbrackin, where, when Rory arrived, 
 there was overwhelming joy at all the good news he 
 
Rory O'More 513 
 
 brought them ; news, however, not unmingled with 
 pain; for the thoughts of leaving Ireland touched the 
 women's feelings as much as Rory's. But, admit- 
 ting the truth of all De Lacy's arguments in favour 
 of emigration, which Rory detailed to them, they 
 acknowledged it to be the safest course to pursue, and 
 one that opened to them an easier life than could be 
 hoped for in their native land. Still it was their 
 native land, and their hearts clung to it, and every 
 hour in the day was crossed by some recollection 
 which embittered the thought of leaving it. One 
 thing, however, helped to dissipate their melancholy, 
 the approaching wedding; and the Sunday morning 
 smiled brightly on the happy family, happier than 
 they had been for many a long day. De Lacy 
 arrived before the hour when mass commenced, and 
 driving up to the door of the little village cabin, was 
 welcomed and hailed with blessings by all its inmates 
 as he entered it. 
 
 " There are some articles to be removed from the 
 chaise," said De Lacy. " I have brought a wedding- 
 cake from Cork, and some few other things, for the 
 bridal of the lady I 'm to give away ; which is only 
 right, you know, Mrs. O'More." 
 
 " Oh, thin, but the kindness of you, Misther De 
 Lacy dear," said the mother, " to remember even 
 such little things as that ! Throth, now I think more 
 of it than even the portion. God bless you ! Dear, 
 dear," repeated the old woman as parcel after parcel 
 was taken from the chaise ; " here 's bottles upon 
 bottles ! " 
 
 " A little wine, Mrs. O'More, which I know you 
 could n't get in the village ; and his reverence will 
 like a good glass no doubt." 
 
 "And, oh dear! the iligant smell! why, if it isn't 
 tay ! Well, Misther De Lacy, but you are " 
 
514 Rory 0' More 
 
 " That 's not to be had either in the village you 
 know, Mrs. O'More ; but the whisky-punch we can 
 make out here. By-the-by, is there a public-house 
 that I can manage to get some substantial entertain- 
 ment from ? for you must ask all your friends to the 
 wedding feast." 
 
 " Oh, but you are the darlin' gintelman ! Sure, we 
 are happy enough in ourselves." 
 
 "No, no, Mrs. O'More; the lady I give away 
 must have her friends about her, to wish her joy, and 
 drink long life and prosperity to her." 
 
 " Good luck to your kind heart, sir ! Well, we '11 
 manage it as you plaze, sir, and I '11 ask what friends 
 we may see at the chapel to come to us ; and sure 
 they won't stand on a short axin', but will come 
 with a heart and a half to wish the colleen joy." 
 
 It is needless to detail the ceremony of the wed- 
 ding. Suffice it to say, that Rory received his pretty 
 blushing Kathleen from the hands of De Lacy ; and 
 that, when the nuptial benediction was pronounced 
 over them, Rory lost no time in getting the first kiss 
 from the bride, which was a regular smacker. "Long 
 life to you, Mrs. O'More! " said Rory, laughing in 
 her crimsoned face, as he lifted her from her knees. 
 
 " There 's part of her portion, Rory," said De 
 Lacy, " for immediate expenses," as he placed in his 
 hand a green silk purse containing a hundred guineas. 
 
 " Long life to you, sir ! you 're too good ! " said 
 Rory. "The green and goold is mighty purty in a 
 flag ; l but 'pon my sowl I don't know if it does not 
 look quite as well in a man's hand." 
 
 The invitations were made right and left at the 
 chapel door, and, nothing loth, the friends invited 
 returned home with the bride and bridegroom to par- 
 take of the hospitality De Lacy had provided for 
 1 The national colours. 
 
Rory O'More 515 
 
 them : and there was a larger company than the 
 house would accommodate, but the good-humoured 
 neighbours sat on the sod outside, while the most 
 responsible people were honoured by being smothered 
 within. 
 
 The priest and De Lacy, with the bride and brides- 
 maids, sat at the head of the table, where the wine 
 was circulated, and plenty of whisky-punch was to 
 be had below the salt. After his reverence and the 
 founder of the feast had had enough, they vacated 
 the house, to give room for tea being prepared for 
 the female part of the party, and repaired to the sod 
 outside, where fiddler and piper were ready to set the 
 boys and girls together by the heels. 
 
 De Lacy led out the bride for the first dance, and 
 the example was followed by many a sporting couple 
 after ; and when some cessation occurred in the 
 dance, notice was given that " the tay " was ready 
 within, while more punch was distributed without. 
 
 The tea seemed in high favour with the women, to 
 the best of whom the commonest quality would have 
 proved a luxury, as that which they had generally 
 drunk had been partly made from the same hedges 
 which supplied them with brooms ; so that the high- 
 flavoured exotic which De Lacy's kindness had pro- 
 vided was a marvel amongst them. 
 
 " Dear ! dear ! Mrs. O'More," said an old neigh- 
 bour, who had already taken extensive liberties with 
 the tea-pot, and who, if tea could have produced 
 the same effects as spirits, must have died of spon- 
 taneous combustion ; " but that is the most beautiful 
 tay ! " 
 
 " Sure, my dear," said the widow, " and Mr. De 
 Lacy brought it himself, his own self." 
 
 " Why, does he dale in tay ? " said the old woman. 
 
 "Whish t!" said Mrs. O'More with a frown; 
 
516 Rory O'More 
 
 " he 's a gintleman, my dear, and would n't dale in 
 any thing." 
 
 u But compliments," said the old woman : " see 
 how he 's talkin' to Mary over there ! " 
 
 " My dear woman," said the widow confidentially, 
 " this tay he brought from his own estate, where it 
 grows, and that 's the rayson it 's so fine." 
 
 u Arrah, and where is that, Mrs. O'More, my 
 dear ? " 
 
 " In France," said the widow : " but don't tell 
 any body." 
 
 "Tut! tut! tut! sure, I know av coorse we 
 must n't say a word about France now, God help 
 uz ! " said the old woman, raising her eyes and eye- 
 brows, and pursing her mouth with a ludicrous ex- 
 pression of melancholy : " and, indeed, I '11 take 
 another cup o' tay, my dear, to comfort me." 
 
 " To be sure, agra," said the widow, bending the 
 tea-pot over the old crone's cup so far beyond a 
 rectangular position, that the lid fell off and broke a 
 piece out of the tea-cup it was over. " Pooh ! pooh ! 
 murdher ! there 's not a dhrop o' wather in the 
 pot : where 's the kittle ? " 
 
 The attendant spirit of the kettle supplied more of 
 the native element ; and after a few minutes to let it 
 draw, Mrs. O'More replenished the old lady's cup. 
 
 " I 'm afeard it 's wake now, ma'am," said the 
 widow ; " bekaze, you see, I let it stand a good dale 
 at first ; for tay is nothing without you let it 
 stand." 
 
 " Right," said Phelim O'Flanagan, who was in 
 the neighbourhood and overheard the conversation, 
 " Right, Mrs. O'More, my dear, tay is never worth 
 a thraneen unless you let it stand : and the great 
 particularity, or peculiar distinctive property, or de- 
 nomination, as I may say, of tay is, that it differs 
 
R ory ' M ore 517 
 
 from all other human things ; for while other human 
 things grows wake with standin', tay grows sthrong. 
 - Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 " Ah, go 'long with you, Phelim ! you 're always 
 comin' in with your larnin' and your quare sayin's. 
 But, as I was tellin' you, ma'am," pursued the widow 
 to her neighbour, " I let the tay stand a long time, 
 to burst the grain : for if you don't burst the grain, 
 what good is it ? " 
 
 " Sartinly," said her neighbour ; " but you see, if 
 you take the good out of it at wanst, that-a-way, 
 there 's no good in it afther. And there 's the grate 
 beauty o' this tay. Oh, but it 's iligant tay ! it 
 takes sitch a beautiful grip 0' the second wather ! " 
 
 " A song ! a song ! " was echoed round the room 
 so loudly as to drown the tea discussion ; and a uni- 
 versal call was made on the bride to set the example 
 of the favourite national custom. 
 
 Kathleen blushed, and felt somewhat shy at being 
 the first to make herself an object of attention, where 
 already, from other causes, she was sufficiently so ; 
 but, encouraged by Rory, and feeling on her own 
 part the necessity of helping to make her friends 
 happy, and therefore complying with their wishes, 
 she sang, with exquisite expression, a little song in 
 her own language, which will be more agreeable to 
 the reader in English. 
 
 OH ! ONCE I HAD LOVERS 
 
 Oh, once I had lovers in plenty, 
 
 When a colleen I lived in the glen ; 
 I kill n d fifty before I was twenty, 
 
 How happy the moments flew then ! 
 Then winter I ne'er could discover, 
 
 For Love brighten' d Time's dusky wing j 
 When every new month brought a lover, 
 
 The year, then, seem'd always like spring. 
 
518 - Rory 'More 
 
 But Cupid's more delicate pinion 
 
 Could never keep up with old Time ; 
 So, the grey-beard assumes his dominion, 
 
 When the mid-day of life rings its chime. 
 Then gather, while morning is shining, 
 
 Some flower while the bright moments last ; 
 Which, closely around the heart twining, 
 
 Will live when the summer is past. 
 
 The song bore so strong an allusion to her own 
 immediate position, that it was peculiarly touching ; 
 and, amid the burst of approbation which followed 
 the lyric, the silent pressure of Rory's hand, and her 
 own confiding look at her husband, showed he had 
 felt all she wished to convey by her song. 
 
 " That is a most beautiful flight of fancy," said 
 Phelim so loud as to be heard, " about Cupid and 
 Time ! And why should n't it be a flight, when 
 both o' thim has wings, as the potes, anshint and 
 prophane, tells us ? for, as the classics say, Tempus 
 
 Mary O'More was now requested, as bridesmaid, 
 to favour the company with a song : and her mother 
 at once asked her " to sing that purty song she was 
 always singin' ; and that, indeed, she had n't a purtier 
 song among thim all." 
 
 u What song, mother ? " asked Mary, blushing up 
 to the eyes. 
 
 " That c Land o' the West.' Wherever you got 
 it, sure, it 's a beautiful song." 
 
 De Lacy, caught by the name of his own song, of 
 which he was not conscious of a copy existing but 
 the one he had rescued from the papers of Adele 
 Verbigny, fixed his eyes on Mary O'More, who was 
 crimsoned over from her forehead to her shoulder, 
 and had her eyes fixed on the ground. 
 
 " Sing it, alanna, sing it," said her mother. 
 
 " I 'd rather sing something else, ma'am." 
 
Rory O'More 519 
 
 " Now I '11 have no song but that, Mary : and, 
 indeed, there 's no song you sing aiqual to it." 
 
 Thus forced, Mary, after a few nervous hems, began 
 in a voice which was tremulous from emotion. 
 
 " Oh, come to the West, love, oh, come there with me ; 
 'T is a sweet land of verdure that springs from the sea, 
 Where fair Plenty smiles from her emerald throne ; 
 Oh, come to the West, and I '11 make thee my own ! 
 I '11 guard thee, I '11 tend thee, I '11 love thee the best, 
 And you '11 say there 's no land like the land of the West ! " 
 
 " That 's Ireland, for sartin ! " said Phelim. Mary 
 continued : 
 
 " The South has its roses and bright skies of blue, 
 But ours are more sweet with love's own changeful hue 
 Half sunshine, half tears, like the girl I love best ; 
 Oh ! what is the South to the beautiful West ! 
 Then come to the West, and the rose on thy mouth 
 Will be sweeter to me than the flow'rs of the South ! " 
 
 There were several audible smacks at the conclu- 
 sion of this verse, and numerous suppressed exclama- 
 tions of" Behave yourself! " were heard in coquettish 
 female voices. 
 
 The song went on. 
 
 " The North has its snow-tow'rs of dazzling array, 
 All sparkling with gems in the ne'er-setting day : 
 There the Storm-king may dwell in the halls he loves best, 
 But the soft -breathing Zephyr he plays in the West. 
 Then come there with me, where no cold wind doth blow 
 And thy neck will seem fairer to me than the snow ! ' ' 
 
 De Lacy could not resist admiring the beautiful 
 and snowy bosom of the singer, which heaved with 
 agitation as she sang. 
 
 Phelim, before she could resume, thundered in his 
 annotation : " That 's a fine touch about the winds, 
 Boreas Austher, Vosther, Eurus, et Zephyrus ! " 
 
 Again Mary plucked up courage, and finished. 
 VOL. ii. 17 
 
520 Rory O'More 
 
 "The Sun in the gorgeous East chaseth the night 
 When he riseth, refresh' d, in his glory and might! 
 But where doth he go when he seeks his sweet rest ? 
 Oh ! doth he not haste to the beautiful West! " 
 
 " Pars Occidentalis f " shouted Phelim. 
 
 "Then come there with me ; 't is the land I love best, 
 'Tis the land of my sires! 'tis my own darling West! " 
 
 " Owld Ireland for ever ! hurroo ! " was shouted 
 from all ; and a thunder of applause followed. 
 
 When the song was over, De Lacy could not 
 resist the curiosity which prompted him to know 
 how Mary O'More had become possessed of the 
 song ; and he approached the girl and asked her. 
 
 " It was written on a bit of paper, sir, and between 
 the leaves of one of the books you gave me." 
 
 " But there was no music to it. How did you get 
 that ? " 
 
 " Oh, sometimes I go about singing, sir, whatever 
 comes into my head ; and so I made a tune to it." 
 
 " And a beautiful tune it is ! " said De Lacy. 
 
 Here the voice of the priest broke in and interrupted 
 further conversation. 
 
 " My good people," said the priest, " it is time now 
 to go home. You know the martial law is out ; and 
 you must n't be out when that law is out." 
 
 " Thrue for your reverence, 'faith," was responded 
 by some of the responsible old men. 
 
 " So, boys and girls, and, indeed, my good people 
 of all denominations, go your ways home in time, 
 and keep out of harm's way : it is not like the good 
 owld times, when we could stop till the night was 
 ripe, and we could throw the stocking, and do the 
 thing dacently, as our fathers used to do before us : 
 but we must make the best of a bad bargain, and go 
 home before the sun is down. So let us lave the 
 
Rory 0" More 521 
 
 hospitable roof where we have got the bit and sup, 
 and cead mile fealt'e, and wishing the young couple 
 health and happiness, lave them with their mother." 
 
 A universal leave-taking now commenced, and 
 heartfelt good wishes were poured upon the bride and 
 bridegroom, accompanied with a profusion of hand- 
 shaking, and a sprinkling of small jokes from the 
 frisky old men and women, which were laughed at 
 by the young ones ; and, laughing and singing, they 
 went their different ways, the mirth radiating as it 
 were from the focus where it had its birth, and, like 
 circles on a lake, becoming weaker as it grew wider, 
 till the sounds of merriment died away in the distance, 
 and the cabin, so noisy a few minutes before, became 
 silent. De Lacy was the last to take his leave : he 
 offered his best wishes for the happiness of those 
 whose happiness was, in fact, of his making, and 
 was followed, as he left the family group, by their 
 thanks and blessings. 
 
CHAPTER XLVII 
 
 DE LACY MUSES LIKE A GENTLEMAN BUT FEELS 
 LIKE A MAN ; AND THE READER IS TOLD ALL 
 THE AUTHOR CAN TELL HIM, AND IS LEFT TO 
 GUESS THE REST 
 
 SILENTLY and thoughtfully he wended his way 
 to the little public-house where he was to be 
 accommodated for the night, the u Land of the West " 
 still ringing in his ears, that song which he had 
 written for the accomplished girl who had deceived 
 him, and valued not by her treasured up and sung 
 by a simple peasant girl, who more and more, he per- 
 ceived, had become attached to him, in short, loved 
 him there was no weaker term applicable ; and 
 that girl, beautiful, sensitive, pure-minded, modest, 
 and delicate in feeling as a lady. Ay, there was the 
 point a lady " if she were a lady" This question 
 arose silently in De Lacy's mind, and his answer to 
 it was a sigh. " No, no," thought he, " it cannot 
 be ! those mesalliances are terrible things ! Could 
 I, from my name and station, descend to wed a 
 country girl ? No ; the world would laugh at me, 
 and sneer at me ; l So Horace De Lacy picked up 
 with a country wench ! ' would sound well in the 
 mouths of those who know me: no, no, it must 
 not be ! And yet there 's no denying I like the girl, 
 like her well enough, even to marry her ; ay, and 
 if she were but a lady, a better wife, and truer and 
 fonder companion, would she be, than the fribble 
 
Rory 0' More 523 
 
 Frenchwoman who jilted me ; and there is more truth 
 and simple faith and real affection in that poor girl's 
 heart than in many a courtly dame whose quarterings 
 could match my own. And why should I be less 
 liberal in those matters than in questions of equal 
 importance ? should I, a democrat, be the stickler 
 for high birth in a wife ? What fools we are, after 
 all, in such matters ! The slavery of custom is upon 
 us, do what we can to shake it off, and the sneer of 
 a fool is too much in perspective for the firmness of 
 the wisest man. Poor Mary ! poor girl ! I wish 
 the devil had me before I ever came in her way ! 
 And that song too how deliciously she sang it! 
 sweet enough to charm a drawing-room, if she were 
 a gentlewoman. Confound that eternal question 
 how it plagues me ! And after all, why should she 
 not be a gentlewoman ? Suppose for an instant she 
 were my wife : Madame De Lacy would be raised to 
 my rank, and in truth she is naturally well-bred, 
 with the patois of her country, and wanting the maniere 
 d'etre of a fashionable belle, 't is true ; but I never 
 heard the girl say, or saw her do, what could be called 
 a rude or vulgar thing : slight care would give her 
 manner, and her own good sense would keep her 
 quiet till she acquired it. 
 
 " What folly this is ! Here am I supposing a case 
 which can never be ; all my prejudices rise in arms 
 against it / dare not do it ! What should I feel, 
 on entering a drawing-room, to see the searching eye, 
 and hear the whisper running round the room, as I 
 presented my ' country wench ? ' No ! no ! no ! 
 Horace : that would never do ! 
 
 " Yet how unjust is all this on my part ! Here am 
 I supposing this drawing-room case, and I am quitting 
 Europe, and all who know me, for ever ! I am going 
 to the back-woods of America ; who will know 
 
524 Rory 0' More 
 
 there that Mary O'More is not a gentlewoman born, 
 or that Horace De Lacy is the descendant of a Nor- 
 man line ? And when once there, could I repose my 
 faith on a purer spirit, my heart on a truer affection, 
 or my head on a fairer bosom ? Could I desire a 
 more lovely or loveable woman for my wife ? My 
 common sense and common manhood answer, No ! 
 and yet does the prejudice of De Lacy rebel against 
 the thought. Mary O'More, I wish to Heaven you 
 were of higher birth ! " 
 
 Such was the working of De Lacy's brain all 
 through the evening, until he retired to bed. Even 
 then, dreams usurped the place of sleep. He imag- 
 ined himself, with his country wife on his arm, in a 
 drawing-room ; a row of perfumed puppies lined the 
 walls and occupied the fauteuih as he entered ; 
 glances of disdain were cast towards Mary's foot 
 (which was a very pretty foot, by the way) ; he looked 
 down, and instead of a satin shoe, a country brogue 
 was peeping from beneath her velvet robe ! He was 
 in a fever : the lady of the mansion approached she 
 addressed in accents of fashionable ease Madame De 
 Lacy, who answered in a very rich brogue : a titter 
 ran round the circle, De Lacy started and awoke. 
 
 When he next dropt into dozing, the wide- 
 spreading forest of America was before him : there 
 was its girdle of splendid colour circling the clearance 
 which his own hand had helped to make, and where 
 the thriving crops of different sorts were growing: 
 the sunset was tinging all around with its golden light, 
 and he thought Mary was his wife, and, with her 
 arms circling his neck, she was looking up into his 
 eyes with glowing affection, and saying, " Are we not 
 happy ? " He clasped her to his breast and kissed 
 her, and said, " Yes, happier here than in our native 
 land ! " 
 
Rory O'More 525 
 
 " But still its remembrance is very dear, Horace ; " 
 and a tinge of sweet tenderness came over her face. 
 
 " So it is, dearest," answered De Lacy : " sit down 
 under the shade of this tree, and sing me l The Land 
 of the West.' " 
 
 And in his dream he thought sounds never were so 
 sweet as that song of his own, sung by the woman he 
 loved. 
 
 De Lacy awoke unrefreshed and weary. There is 
 nothing so fatiguing as an unsatisfied action of the 
 mind, which we cannot repress nor escape from. De 
 Lacy knew that business was the surest relief from 
 such annoyance, and he started at an early hour for 
 Cork to finish his arrangement for sailing, and wrote 
 to Rory, desiring him and his family to follow, 
 appointing time and place for their rendezvous. A 
 few days sufficed to bring them together again, and an 
 immediate embarkation took place, for the wind was 
 fair and the weather favourable. 
 
 Old Phelim O'Flanagan accompanied the O'Mores 
 to the ship ; and De Lacy, touched by this proof of 
 attachment, offered to take him with them. 
 
 " Thanks to you in bushels, and may blessings in 
 pailfuls be powered upon you ! I '11 stay in the owld 
 place. We must n't transplant owld sticks, though 
 the saplin's may thrive the betther of it. But I 'm 
 obleeged to you all the same ; I could be of no use 
 in a new place." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Phelim ; I '11 find use for you 
 if you '11 come. Your learning, Phelim, would make 
 you an acquisition in a new place ; it is there you 
 would be particularly useful." 
 
 u Proud am I of your opinion, Misther De Lacy," 
 said Phelim, immensely pleased at this compliment to 
 his learning, " proud am I, and plazed : but thin, if 
 you talk of a new counthry, sure I must think of the 
 
526 Rory 0" More 
 
 owld one ; and what would the counthry here do 
 without me ? " 
 
 "That's a difficulty, certainly," answered De 
 Lacy, smiling ; " but you should n't sacrifice your 
 own interests too much to your patriotism. Come 
 with me, and I '11 be your friend as long as you live, 
 Phelim." 
 
 " Oh ! prob pudor ! and it 's ashamed I am not to 
 be more worthy of your honour's friendship : and, 
 indeed, a good frind and a thrue frind you are ; or, as 
 the Latins say, amicus certus : but, all the same, I '11 
 lave my bones in owld Ireland ; and when I 'm gone, 
 maybe I '11 go see you, that is, if sper'ts is per- 
 mitted to crass the say." 
 
 " God keep us ! Phelim," said Mrs. O'More ; 
 11 don't hant us, if you plaze." 
 
 De Lacy, when he could recover himself sufficiently 
 from the laughter which Phelim's speech produced, 
 said, " rum and brandy were the only spirits he ever 
 heard of crossing the sea." 
 
 " Ay, ardent sper'ts," replied Phelim. " Throth, 
 thin, my sper't is as ardent as ever it was, and, at all 
 events, wishes you happiness and prosperity ; and 
 
 ." Here the old man's eyes began to glisten 
 
 with tears, and his, voice failed him. His thin lips 
 essayed to utter a few words, and trembled with the 
 pang of saying " Farewell ; " but the word remained 
 unuttered, and a tremulous pressure of each hand of 
 the friends he was parting from was the last signal of 
 affection which passed between them. 
 
 The decks were now cleared of all save the sailors 
 and passengers ; the boats of the attendant friends 
 pushed off; and it was not until old Phelim was 
 seated in the skiff which bore him to the shore that 
 he felt something in his hand, which he opened to 
 look at : it was a purse with several gold pieces in it. 
 
Rory 0" More 527 
 
 He remembered De Lacy had been the last to shake 
 hands with him. " God bless him ! he did not forget 
 even the poor owld man he was leaving behind ! " 
 and the " poor old man " dropped his head upon his 
 knees and cried bitterly. 
 
 The sails were shaken out, and, swelling to the 
 breeze, bore the vessel from the lovely harbour of 
 Cove. The ship was soon cleaving the waters of the 
 Atlantic, and the tearful eyes of many an emigrant 
 were turned towards the shore they should never see 
 again. 
 
 In one close group stood Rory and those who 
 were dear to him. De Lacy was not of their party, 
 but paced up and down the deck alone, and felt a 
 keener pang at quitting his country than he could 
 have imagined ; and as her cliffs were lessening to hia 
 view, the more they became endeared to his imagina- 
 tion, and associations to which he did not think his 
 heart was open asserted their influence over the exile. 
 In an hour the deck was clearer ; many had gone 
 below, for the evening was closing fast : but still 
 Rory and his group stood in the same spot, and looked 
 towards the land j and still De Lacy paced the deck 
 alone, and felt most solitary. 
 
 The wide ocean was before him, and the free wind 
 sweeping him from all he had known, to the land 
 where he knew none. He was a stranger on the 
 sea ; he was lonely, and he felt his loneliness. He 
 looked at Rory O'More, the centre of a group whom 
 he loved, and who loved him, and he envied the 
 resignation which sat on the faces of Kathleen and 
 Mary as they looked towards their lost country, while 
 their arms were entwined round the husband and 
 brother. He approached them, for his solitude 
 became painful, and he spoke. 
 
 " We shall soon see the last of old Ireland, Rory." 
 
528 Rory O'More 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered Rory, in a tone implying 
 tender regret. 
 
 " But you have all those with you who are dear to 
 you, and the parting is less sad." 
 
 " Thank God, I have," said Rory fervently. 
 
 " And you, Mary, are a brave and sensible girl. 
 I 'm glad to see you have dried your tears." 
 
 " The heart may be sad, sir, without the eye being 
 wet." 
 
 The words entered De Lacy's very soul ; and as 
 he looked at the sweet face of the girl, whose beauty 
 became the more touching from the tinge of gentle 
 sadness upon it, he thought how many as lovely a 
 cheek had withered under the blight of silent grief. 
 
 " How faint the shore is looking now, sir ! " said 
 Mary. 
 
 " Yes, Mary ; " and De Lacy approached her 
 more nearly as he spoke. After a few minutes' 
 silence, while they still kept their looks upon the 
 rapidly-sinking cliffs, De Lacy asked Mary " if she 
 thought it would not be too much for her feelings, 
 would she oblige him by " 
 
 " What, sir ? " said Mary timidly. 
 
 u Will you sing me c The Land of the West ? ' 
 It is the last time any of us shall ever hear it in sight 
 of its shores." 
 
 A blush suffused Mary's cheek and a slight quiver 
 passed across her lip at the request. 
 
 u Perhaps 't is too much for you, Mary ; if so, do 
 not sing ; but I own I am weak at this moment. 
 I did not know how much I loved poor Ireland." 
 
 " I '11 sing it for you, sir : and sure I would sing 
 the song for the dear country itself, the dear 
 country ! and though I may cry, maybe 't will be a 
 pleasure to my heart." 
 
 Summoning all her resolution, she essayed to sing j 
 
R ory O^M ore 529 
 
 and after the first few words, which were faltered in 
 a tremulous tone, her voice became firmer, and the 
 enthusiasm which love of country supplied supporting 
 her through the effort, she gave an expression to the 
 song intensely touching. As she was concluding the 
 final stanza, the last beams of sunset, splendidly 
 bright, burst through the purple clouds of the horizon, 
 and shed a golden glow on " the Land of the West," 
 as the inspired singer apostrophised it. De Lacy 
 looked upon her, and thought of his dream : it was 
 the sunset and the song, and the same lovely face 
 which beamed through his vision j and when the 
 touching voice of the girl sank in its final cadence 
 into silence, she could support her emotion no longer 
 she burst into tears, and held out her clasped hands 
 towards the scarcely visible shore. 
 
 De Lacy put his arm gently round her waist, and 
 the unresisting girl wept as he supported her. 
 " Don't weep, Mary, don't weep," whispered De 
 Lacy in a gentler tone than she had ever heard him 
 speak before : " we shall see many a lovely sunset 
 together in the woods of America, and you shall often 
 sing me there c The Land of the West.' ' 
 
 THE END