Arrah-na-pogue (Arrah-of-the-kiss), or, The Wicklow wedding

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Arrah-na-pogue (Arrah-of-the-kiss), or, The Wicklow wedding
Series Title:
De Witt's Twenty five cent novels
Williams, Henry Llewellyn
Place of Publication:
New York
Robert M. De Witt
Publication Date:
Physical Description:
1 online resource, 96 pages


Subjects / Keywords:
Ireland -- Fiction ( lcsh )
Dime novel ( lcsh )
serial ( sobekcm )


General Note:
founded on the same incidents as the celebrated drama by Dion Bourcicault, now being played with immense success.

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Source Institution:
University of South Florida Library
Holding Location:
University of South Florida
Rights Management:
All applicable rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier:
028532824 ( ALEPH )
37005503 ( OCLC )
D44-00001 ( USFLDC DOI )
d44.1 ( USFLDC Handle )

USFLDC Membership

Dime Novel Collection

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tmber 48,] [ Co1rnplete. .JI t\ Ii" .. ,, s ; 'f ': :. r "' r I J t \o t: -. I ,i i ...:_ --. .&.... -- .J.._ ..._ .,... lJBERT M. DE WITT, Publisher, 13 Frankfort St., New Yr-1




L') ARI)_t\H-N r :, '1 CHAPTER I. THE LONELY LAKE. IN the 0 Wicklow is a lone{y kno'Yn as .. Glendalo1ug!1 1 ride the moonbeams over its silyer deptlhs as they bftthe in a flo9d of argent splendour the ruins of St. Kevin's Abbey, 'Yhich stand out 1i;n .mefarn;:holy gran deur: the link that binds the present to past, the r eli_c of a byg91\e age. Dear is the County Wicklow to every patri q tic heart; swe e t are its sacri fices, and sacred the bloo<'f th'.-'t its > sons have shed in a A little better than half a century ,ag Ireland was convulsed to her very centre. Castlereagh, who, perhaps, in a fij; of remorse for his crimes and blunders, cut his thrdat, had roused dormant spirit of. all the sons of Erin. Wicklow partook of th' e excitem!3nt, and its patriotic son s rallieq around the green flag. ,1 1 ', 1 But what chance had they agains,t solid phalanxes of regular troops.? B e amish M'Coul, a landowner and a true son o:C the soil, endeavor0';1 to organize an insurrection against the English J j The county was in the h.ands of the and, its ,fq1ly, he was compelled to ab andon his attempt. ,1 1 With the deepest regret he ordered his tenantry to !ay down, t?ei1r 1 submit as best they [ could to the new rule. r r The consequences of his rash enterprize did not here, The M'Coul was outlawed and to a refug e wn e re he oest could. Sometimes he slept in trees, sometim e s in nd fop short p e riods of time, some one of1 his faithful tenantry gave him she lter. ''' His property was confiscated; and a Government agent collected the rents. All this was v _ery trying to him; but the of patriotism was n a t extin- guished. The M'Coul bided his time and waited his opportunity. One night, when his fortunes were at their lowes t 1ebb, he received info'rma. tion that a low, pettifogging lawJler, who was a spy and an in(ornie'r, would pass by the lonely lake of Glendalough with a large sum of money which he had collected on the M'Coul estate, in hiS' pocket.


4 Arrah-na-Pogue, ( Arrah-of-the-Kiss); solved to intercept the scoundrel and ease him of his ill-gotten plunder, for the collection of which there was little doubt that the Government paid him well. The collector's name was Michael Feeny, and he was universally disliked all through the County Wicklow. The M'Coul left his hiding-place and went to the shore of the lonely lake, accompanied by one or two followers, who were on the l ook-out to inform him when danger, in the form of the patrol, was nigh. Th e entire co11nty was the possession of the English, and all the roads were strongly guarded, so that lt was morally for a,ny one to go half.a-dozen miles without a pass, and those who were unprovided with the magical bit of paper were looked upon as traitors and treat e d ac0ordingly The M'Coul paced the wi h impatient footstens. "How hard is my fhte," he smd, soliloquizing. .,'For no fadt of my own am I hunted down lik e a wild beast. The hated English thirst for my blood, and the scaffold looms in the distance. l s it a crime for a man to love his country and to wish to rid it of a detested thraldom which is altogether foreign to the genius of the people?" As he spoke, his scouts entered from a defile, and told him that Michael Feeny was advancing from Glendalough. The M'Coul pulled up his coat-collar, and slouched his hat over his eyes, so that h e might not be recognised by the rent collector, and put himself in a good position for attack. He was dressed in a shabby manner, but his long, white coat, concealed his form, which it thoroughly enveloped Micha el Feeny wore a swallow-tail coat, and tight-fitting black continuations; he was thin and spare, h\s stature was not large-his dimensions were contemptible, and he would hav e done excellently well for a scarecrow. He came along in high glee, talkihg and jabbering to himself, p:erhaps to keep his courage up, fur the passes about Glendalough had a bad name, and Michael Feeny knew that he had an evil reputation; he had brought more than one man to the foot of the gallows, and there were those near and dear t6 the dead men who cried out for ;;engeance, and openly said1 that nothing but the blood of the informer would satisfy them.I' Micha e l had good cause for fear. Beamish M'Coul stood in the shadow cast by the rock ; his tall figure was exaggerated by the misty light. He looked like au avenging spii:it. The moon cast her palid beams to earth, as if unconscious of the deed of -violence that was soon to be committed under her assisting radiance. When Michael Feeny had advanced to within a few paces of the M'Coul, the latter stepped forward, and said, in a voice-' "Halt!" Michael Feeny brought himself to an abrupt stop. His limbs trembled, and his knees knocked together, while his coward heart pulsed with a violence that threatened to annihilate him. H e did not recognise the M'Coul, bl;ltt thought he was the prey of some law less depredator, who a.bout to take advantage of the disturbed state of the country, to a robbery, which he hop ed would not be aggravated by personal violence. "Oh! by the five crasses, and what would you do wid. me 1" he cried, in an agony of terror. You ha ve just been collecting the M'Coul's rents," replied Beamish, calmly. Shure and--" Don't interrupt me! You have a large sum of money in your pooket, which I will thank you instan,tly t9 h and over to me !" "Is it money, misthre robber, dear 1'1 Yes, money ; give it me at once."


, On, The Wicklow Wedding "At wanst ?" ,. "Without any delay !" r :Michael .Feeny's complexion was never anything to boast of bu:t when h e saw th'at the robber was detertnil)ed to ease .J1im of the money he h e turned the color of a duck e gg, and his.face became a bad niongrel bluE)."Divil a halfpenny,"' !Michael Feeny. The :M'Coul cut him short by producing .a pil>tol, which he held :i.t his head, saying "Come, no palavering!" 1. "If I have any. money fit's only 1 a l tr1fle." :1 "You lying thi ef, I wonder the lie doesn't choke ,ypu; out th e canvas bag. Qui d k or r pull the trigger, and you 'lvill be lying at tihe bottom ,of the l ake with a stone to your h ee ls." t "Plaise your honour; it's, here;" f said Mfohael Feeny, producing the b:i.g in which th e money was seclirely tied up. Th e M'Ooul tOok the baig, examined it, and put i t in .hi!t poeket. whil e he was thus engaged, Feeny endeavoured to get aw:W. saying to himself-'' "I'm off in three skips of a Scot d h Grey He would \l.Ot have robbed me if h e had not been such a big bosthoon of a giant; but 'men of that kidney always overreach themselves. He had no pass, and he will be eaught by tihe patrol before long. Thrath, and I'll give evidence against liim, 'which will he fully ayquil to a conviction When the M'Coul saw tliat the informer WM! sterlling 1 awa)'i, he cried, "Michalll Feeny!" l "Saints defend us! he knows my name," exclaimed F 1een.y, in astonishment. Come back." "What is it, captin dead" "I want you." .. Banath lalth !" (My blessing with you!) said Feen,y. 1 Come back, I say, or__,:." i Don't shoot, ahagur." Blood alive coine back." "I'm coming -I'm coming," i cried Michael Feeny,lin a aoleful voice. yon J:iave a pass r "It is a pass your saying?" "Yes." "Becoose it isn't right you are at all, ail." rn J L ,. "No pFevarication "By the. holy saikerroents Again the pistol was levelled, and so persuasive was its silent argument that Mi c ha e l Feeny pulled out his pass and handed it to the M'Coul with a terrible sigh of regret, which nearly shook his slender figure to pieces. ,"Och! murther-murther," h e said, in a plaintive voice: "I shall be killed, and stiff, and stark, and cowld before this time to-morrow." "That would not surprise me >in t4e slightest degree," said the M'Coul, mis c hievously "And why not ?" "Because to my certain knowledge, there's niore than one blunderbuss 1 waiting for you behind a wall ; 1 "Oh! your honour, don't be spaking "that way." "It's tFue "Thrue, is it? I'm a corpse." "'I1he blunderbusses are on full cock." "Oh! my blood's water, and my inside's all fiddle-strings "Away with you !'I


6 Arrah-na-Pogue, ( A?rak-o.fthe-Kiss); "Captain, darlint." "May I ask for the loan of that bit of a pistol you have in your hand?" "Not if I know it. You may take what's inside it, if you're not afraid of having an attack of your old complaint, tlie falling sfokness." "Oh, oh!" cried Michael Feeny, it's kiltJ intirely I am." "Be off!" sai'd the 1if'Cou1, i!:gperiousl The diminutive rent-collector sneaked away with the gliding motion peculiar to the snake tribe, muttering as he went" Ugh! the bare-faced idolother Ugh the lost haythen. Here's a purty state of things. W orra, worra !" With this wail on his lips he disappeared beneath the sheltering branches of a grove of trees. When Michael Feeny had made himself scarce, the members of the "finest pisantry in the world" came trooping in from their hiding-places, and congrat ulated the M'.Coul on the splendid achievement which he had just brought to a satisfactory conclusion Generosity was one of Beamish M'Coul's leading traits, and he opened the bag of which he had, in a manner, robbed Feeny, though the money was in reality his own, and took from it the gold, leaving the notes at the bottom. ThrO'Wing the gold towm'ds his followers, he cried in a loud, hearty voice, Look out, boys; here's something fo1 you to feed the pigs and keep the pot a boiling until the praties come in The men caught the money, and equally divided it amongst them, amidst such exclamat ons as "More power, I say!" "Long life to you, sir !" "Be my sowl kind father to you !" "May yer never ait worse mai:t than mutton, whish! more power !" Wishing to be alone, Beamish M'Coul addressed a few kindly words to his followers, and bid them be off to their points of .'vantage, where they might keep a good look out, and warn him of the approach of yhe patrol, not that he cared for the patrol now that he had Michael Feeny's in his possession, but he wished to be informed of their proximity. He did not seem desirous of leaving the spot, though the avowed object which had brought him there had been accbmplisl1ed. Had Beamish M'Coul any further reason for staying by the lonely shore of Glendalough 1 Perhaps he had. Ha! he starts and turns an:xiously towards a defile runn1ng throuo-b the valley at the base of the cliff upon whose summit stands the ruins of St. Kevin's Abbey. The pattering of tiny fairy feet is heard:__a woman is advancing. ) CH.APTER II FANNY POWER, OF .CADIN-TEELY; MISs FANNY PowER, of Cabin-teely, was the daughter of an Irish gentleman. In the prosperous days of the M'Coul she had 15eeh thrown much in contact with him, the result of which was a mutual attachment. Beamish loved her passionately, with all the raging fire of his enthusiastic nature. Love with him was, to a certain extent, an abstraction. To love was to adore, to adore to worship, to worship to idolize There was no limit to his devotion. Chivalric knights of old did not love their mistresses with more force or vehemence than did tbe high-spirited M'Coul. Fanny Power reciprocated his affection, but her love was not so strong and


Or, Tlie Wicklow Weddi ng. 7 so end1;1ring as his own. To lpve and to beloved by Beamish M'Coul, gentle man, was a very, different thing to being the betrothed of an outl:i.w, upon whose head a price was set, and for whose blood the hounds of a tyrannical govei;nment ":,ere thirsti11g. Poor Fanny found her love sorely tried when she had to steal out of her father's house secretly and make a long and weary pilgrimage to some lonely glen, or 1ake, or dell, to which her lover had crept stealthily. The M'Coul had appointed Glendalough as a rendezvous with Fanny Power. He saw that his life was unsafe in Ir elapc1, and that if he succeeded in evad ing the officy-rs of the law and the military, he would not be able to resume his old position in the county until he oJ:>tained a pardon from government, and that, he thought, he should be much ipore likely obtain if he was in a foreign He had consulted with his friends, and they all advised him to escape to the I coast of 1 He had resolved upon adopting thei:\ advice, and he had sent a messenger to Fanny Power, requesting her to meet him at th()l foot of St. Kevin's Abbey, by the shore of the lonely lake of Glendalough. She had kept the tryst. He to take leave of her. "By that lake whm;e gfoomy shore Skylark never warbles o'er ; Where the cliff hangs high and steep, Gay St. Kevin stole to sleep." E,adiant in al} the loveliness of twenty summers, F31nny Power ran forward to meet her lover r ; Her hair had caught in the protruding branch of a tree,' which had disarranged its fastenings, and all its golden wealth fell in a shower down her back. Her blue eyes were eloquent of love, and her'litqe hand trembled as it was closely clasped in the strong and manly grasp of Beamish M'Coul. I "Oh Beamish, dear-dear was all she cpuld murmur as she fe11 upon his neck, and allowed her head to rest upon his breast. 1 "My own, my darling cushla machree,1' (pulse of my heart). "Oh Beamish," she continued, rousing heri;;elf, "and is it all true?" all what true, my love i'.' 1 "All in that cruel, cruel letter you sent me. Are y;ou really obliged to fly from Ireland i Must I lose thee ?" "' For a time : only for a time, dearest." It seems so dreadful. It was only this morning I took up a bpok in which was one of your dear, dear letters. I put it as a marker, and while I read it over again, I 'kissed it a thousand times, my Beamish "Poor child !" exclaimed the M'Coul. Fanny Power's tears began to flow. Come, come, darling, be brave. In these troublesome times, when Ireland bleeds from every pore, we must all be brave and courageous ... If you w0uld be a patriot's bride, you must i;,hare his perils and bear with his misfortunes." "Do not leave me, Beamish," she cried, raising her tearful eyes to his and looking at him with a long, earnest pleading glance. r "Oh! do not leave me, Beamish!" "When I am gone, my friends will themselves and procure a pardon for me, which will enable me to return to Ireland and to thee." "But it is so hard to part." Let us hope it will not be a lengthened parting." Who can tell ?"


It 8 Arrah-na-Pogue; ;) "I wduld glaaly stop here, but the pause is hope1ess and I can do no good. I only expose myself to useless sufferings. Y 6u do not fully understand the hardships I have put up with. Sometimes for days together I am concealed in smothered beneath trusses of straw;, occa ionaHy I sleep up a 'tree--" "Up a tree!" saia Fanny, with a slight laugh ('Oh! how funn. Fancy sleeping up !\. tree : "It is true, however ludicrous the idea may appear to you, but it is anyt\ling ,. but pleasant or agreeable, I can assure yo!' "Oh my poor ill-used Beamish," cried F1mny Power, throwing her arms round him as if td shield him from the attacks of the ene,mies. "The people are very kind to me, and I thank them from the very bottom I of my heart for their kindness. I wish I could them from a foreign yoke. But the day will come." Affected to eloquence by the unhappy of his native land, which he to for ever, the M'Coul his manly form to its full height, and turning towards the dark waters of Glendalougq, 0xcla.imed in a tragic voice, "Oh! my country! how my heart bleeds for thee. Trodden as thou art beneath the iron heel of the oppressive invader; trampled into the dust by the relentless conqueror. Oh! Ireland, Ireland, 'yeeP. for your slain sons, weep for your depopulated counties. Sigh 6ver your starving sons, and pray for those who languish in melanchoiy exjle. Oh) God in heaven, pour out thy blessing upon long suffering Ireland." He paused. Overcome by his emotion, he covered his face with his hands and seemed oblivious 6f Miss presertce. In her preast the spark of patriotic iUje did not bwn so as it did in that of the M'Coul, and she felt jea1ous of _Ireland for absprbing so much of. her fover's path!;ltic affection. Beamish !" spe said; impatiently. "Pardon me, my own, l had for the time fqrgotten thee," he rep!ied, con. "Oh! Beamish, if you can forget me 'vhen I am 1?Y side, what will you do when you are miles_'.rniles away 7" 1 "My love!" '<.! am not yourlove. You love your country better than me," she replied petulantly. "I am sure n.o one can like lreland better than I do; but I c,an't see what you want to make such a fuss about the Union fbr. It doe.s us no harm. If you had not taken an active part in politics, :we should not now have been obliged to sep,arate_ I declare it is enough to break a girl's hearp, and make her go into a convent." "Have you forgotten that the course of true love never d\d run .smooth 7" said the M'Coul, with a stni1e. "Proverbs will not mend the matter. Why diQ. you eyer med.dle with politics ?" 1 "My blood rose up in rebellion, and I qould not remain passive." And what good have you done by your rising ?" ''None." '' You admit it ?" "I do, with unqualified sorrow; but although we have been miserably unsuc cessful, I have the ; consolation of not only knowing but feeling that I have done my duty as my ancestors have done theirs before them, and that is not a nega tive advantage." "If I let you go, will you promise to love me, Beami$h 7" "As I love my life." No foreign lady shall steal you from me ?"


,Qr; The Wicklow Wedding. 9 May Heaven's thunder !" "Do not asseverate; the word of the M'Coul is always sufficient." "Absence will, if possible, Fanny darling, make my heart grow fond er,'' said B eamis h. "No lady, however beautiful, however rich, or great, shall tempt me for one moment from my allegiance. I am yours, and yours alone, and JVill be yours for ev!)r." I' Bl ess you, B ea mish, for that assljrance Now J shall be able to tolerate your absence with greater brav e ry. Bt Htia"l!en help me! It is so hard to part with you." Our meeting will be all the more d e lightful." "Oh, those politi cs," said Fanny, stamping her foot angrily on the floor. I wish there were no such things as politics." All at once a clear strain rose upon the air. Both the M'Coul and Fanny listened attentively : "Slut or slaughter, holy water, Sprinkle the Catholics every one, Cut them asunder ,and make them lie under, The Protestant boys will carry their own. Lero, lero, lillibullero,.1illibullero bullenala. "King James he pitched his fonts between The lines for to retire ; But King William threw his bomb-13hells in, .And set them all on fire. Lero, lero, lillibullEfrO, lillibullero bullenala. "July the first, in Old Bridge town, There was a grevious battl'1, When many a man lay on the ground By the cannon that did :i-attle. Lero, lero, lillipullero, lillibullero bullenala." As this song ceased, the harsh cry of a sqreech-qwl h13ard. "What is it, dear Beamish?" inquired Power. ; "A signal, my dear ; the patrol are at hand apd their leader ; may a bad place receive him in in1mlting us with his Orange songs !" "The patrol?" Yes; do not be alarmed, I am pre pared for them." "Thank Heaven for that; but use no violence. Will you rather not fly? Th ey will not take you from me, B ea mish." "No, my own; calm your fears," re&ponded the M'Coul. The sergeant in command of th e patr o l had been indulging in a famous Prot estant air, which for more than two centuries had been intolerable to the Catho lic patriots, a,nd prodctive of many a fight. How many a h ead has been bro keJJ. owing to -the provocation of "Le ro, lero, lillibullero,'' it would be difficul t to say The cry of the screeoh owl was a signal from one of the 'Coul's followers to ind\cat(( that the patrol were at hand. They had come sutldi;>nly through one of the hill passes and had taken the scouts by srprjsliJ, so that they had not tim e to come down from their places of observation and give their master warning of his dal)ger. The patrol consisted of a sergeant and twelve men, who walked in single file, with th eir musk. e ts loaded and their matches burning, so that they might b e prepar e d for any emergency. When the pati:ol came \1'ithin ,a few y,ards of the M'Coul, sergeant cried 1' Halt !" and the m e n grqn\].ed arms: advancing, the sergeant, who was a bluff, honest Englishman, exclaimed, Who are you ?"


10 Arrah-na-Pogue; (Ariah-of-the-Kiss.) A traveler, as you may perceive." Have you a pass 1" "I have." "Produce it." "With pl e asure." Th e M 'Co .ul felt in his pocket and produced Michael Feeny's pass, which he handed to the who held it up to a lantern he carried, the light of which fell upon, and enabled him to read it. Right," h e said, handing th e pass. "Sergeant!" cried th e M'COul. Hi r: "Sir, to you ." "It's dangerous they tell me, to go about these hills without a guard 1" M ay be so." "Vv ould you mind seeing us on the way to Cabin -t eely '1" "Sorra a bit, as th ey say down h e r e ," r e plied the sergeant. "And S e rgeant 1" "Sir." Th e M'Coul pointed, to Miss Powe.r, and, with a significant glance, said Not a word of this little affair. If-eh-you understand 1" "Ay, you need not fear." "I may r ely upon your discretion 1" "To th e death," the sergeant. Lifting up his voice, he once more sang-r I r ''There's nought but care on every hand, In every hour that passes, oh ; What signifies the life of man, An' twere not for the lasses, oh!" 1 You are merry t o -night," said B e amish M'Coul. "My spirits are low, and a little noise keeps them up," replied the sergeant, with a gruff laugh. .r Th e M 'Co ul took Fanny by the hand, and, preceeded by the sergeant, walked to the patrol, who closed up behind them. "By y'r left, march," cried the sergeant. They did so, and their forms were soon lost in the distance. I/ CHAPTER IL SHAUNTHEPOST. TnE M'Coul was generally beloved by hi s tenantry ; he ha\! al ways behaved t o them with the greatest lib erality If they were unfortunate and behindhand with their rent, h e n e ver pressed them for payment. A girl who lived in a poor cabin with her aged mother had lately given her master shelter. He was hard pressed by the English soldiers, and he had a claim upon the kindness of Arrah Meelish, for h e had given h e r th e cabin in which she lived, and had in other ways assisted her in th e day of distress. It was but a poor shelter that Arrah Meelish was enabled to give the M'Coul. Th e cabin was liable to a rigOTous search at any mom e nt, so that the b es t she could do was to let him go to the roof and sleep beneath the thatch amongst th e mice and the rats. Arrah kept the fact of the M'Coul having hidden himself in h er cabin a pro found secret, and h er mother, who was old and foolish, was not eve aware of the circumstance.


Or, The Wedding. 11 Not even Shaun the letter-carrier, or Shaun the Post, as he was called, who was Arrah Meelish's intended husband, was in the secret. Shaun had long ago made up his mind to have the pretty Arrah for his wife, and she was not at all loath to fall in with his views. There was not a more honest man in the County Wicklow than Shaun the Post, and although he wall simple and humble many a woman might have been proud of his love, and have carri e d h e r head higher after a kind word and a look from Shaun. The day after the meeting between Miss Power and the M'Coul on the shore of Glendalough was appointed for Shaun and Arrah's weddbig-day. All those who have loved and who have been marri ed, without taking up a heavy cross in the object of their adoration, can imagine the happiness which took posses sion of Arr ah's h eart and filled the little cabin in which she lived. The misadventure of Michael Feeny had not yet had time to be disseminated throughout th e county; but had Arrah known it, she would only have r e joiced, for she, in conjunction with others of her class, despised the process-server. Michael Feeny, however, did not d e spis e Arrah Meelish; he had the auda city to love her. He actually was courageous enough to fix his affections upon her, and to think that he could make an impression upon her and induce h e r to love him. In this belief he was greatly mistaken, for Arrah had no regard for a man who got his living by lying and deceit, and by preying upon and making capi tal out of the ills of his fellow-creatures. On the morning appointed for the nuptial ceremony of Shaun and Arrah Meelish, Shaun the Post was up betimes and sought Arrah's cabin. It was th,e happiest day in Shaun's life, and he stole in the gre y dawn of the morning to the cabin door and knocked gently, hiding himself under the gable as he did so. In a minute or so Arrah appeared, and looking out of the window e x claimed" It's the pig." "It is the pig, then?" cried Shaun; "ope n the door softly, somebody wants ye, dear." "Oh! it's Shaun,'' said Arrah, with an assumed indifference. "Yes, me darlint, it's Shaun come to wish the top o' the morning to yer." Shaun the Post was a strongly made, wiry little fellow, ab out five-andtwenty years of age. If he was not strictly handsome, he had that open, frank, comical face which generally characterizes the Irish peasant. Arrah was fair and plump, with light hair and a pleasing face, which, like charity, would have cover e d a multitude of sins, had she been guilty of peccadil()('s, w,hich she was not, except such as those which are venial, and implanted in frail human nature. Oh get along wid yez,'' replied Arrah. Shaun ran forward and tried to catch her in an embrace, and imprint a kiss upon her lips, but she was too nimble for him. She slipped from his grasp, and running to a distance, stood laughing at him. "You have as many twists in you as an eel, Arrah," said Shaun, sheepishly. Ha ha ha !" laughed Arrah. "Shure and I'd like to give you a hit uncler the nose with my mouth," said Shaun. Arrah Meelish still continued to laugh, and went farther away, as if she was determined to successfully resist any attempt he might make, and elude his grasp. "Arrah Meelish Arrah, darlint !" cried Shaun. If I was to ax yez for a kiss ye'd say no; but ye're so lovely." "Ha! ha!" And so butiful." "Ha! ha!" ... d


J 12 Arrali-na-Pogue, ( Arrah-of-the-Kiss); And so like a rose and a lily, and--" been robbin' the bee-hives, Shaun," said Arrah, interrupting him and got the smell of hon ey on your tongue." "Be J a b e rs, at!d it's you who have a cake o' hon ey on your \vhich I'd like to hav e the kissing of." l Go along wid yez, Shaun, and take your l etters ; I won't spake wid yez until yom l etters are d e liv e red." Shaun's only reply to this adjuration was to make another attempt to kiss th e recalcitrant beauty, but she again got away from him causing him to ex claim"Your very liv e ly, Anah; but wait till you change your name, and h ave two children in an ould praskeen tied to vou back." His eyes twinkled with a misc hi e vous "merritnent as he said this, and Arrah pretende d to be v ery much annoyed. Snatching up a broom, she drove him from t h e cabin, and he w ent away l aughing to d el i ve r his letters ., Scarc ely had he gone before Beamish M'Coul appeared, and said" Ah Arrah, up so early." "Yes, sir," s h e replied, blushingly. "I forgot that it was your wedding-day. May H eave n you, my good girl ; for you are a good girl, and one that Shaun may be proud of as his wif e I wish you all prosperity, Arrah. "Thank you, sir. lf it plaise Hivin, we'll have a happy widdin.'1 The M'Coul put his hand in the poc k e t of his coat, and produc e d bag of which h e h ad robbed Michael Feeny; he had no use for the notes hims elf-in deed, he had not taken the money for his own purposes ; h e had don e it out of daring insol e nce and audacity to the Secretary of State in Ireland, to show him th a t if h e did confiscate his rents, he could not r ely upon keeping them He intend e d to make them a present to Arrah, but h e little recked of the. disastrous conseq u e nces his injudicious gift would bring in its wake ; h ad h e done so, he would h ave scattered them to the winds. CHAPTER IV. f MICHAEL FEENY MAKES LOVE. ARRAH MEELISH had never expected slight est reward from th e M 'Cou I for the various acits of kindness which she had done him, and whe n she saw the notes fluttering in the wind, she did not for a mo'm ent suspect that he was about to present the m to her, though such was in reality tbe case "Here, Arrah," the M'Coul exclaimed, I am much beholden to you, accept these notes as a slight token of my regard and my gratitude Is it a widdin' prisint, Misthre Beamish 1" "It is, if you will allow me to give it you. It is my own money, and I hav e a right to do as I like with it." "The blissins of Hivin powr e upon JOU, Misthre Beamish," cried Arrah i n rapturous d e light She took the notes which th e M'Coul g a v e her, and blessed him again and again for his kiildness. "Look upon it as your dowry. "Shure and you gave me mother and me the cottage which shelters u s from the blasts of winter and the suns of summer; there's no end to your kindness, Mr. Beamish.'' "There, there, say no more; take the mon e y, and much good may it do you, my pretty Arrah,'' replied the M'Coul.


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 13 "What shall I dQ to show my gratitude, sir? Shall I--" "Love your husband, Arrah." "I'll try," she replied, demurely. .. "And bear with him when he tak(;!s a drop more whisky than is good for him." "Is it a dhrap of the cratur ye mane, sir. Shaun is not givin to it." "Then he's the first Irishman I ever knew who practised so much abste-' miousness," said the M'Coul, with a laugh. Shall 1 sing you a song, sir?" "Not just now." i "Not the song of' Beal Derg O'Donnel,' nor 'Lauy Dorneen's Ass,' or the Shamrock so Green 1' "The last is one I could list en to for e ver, but l must get some rest, Arrah. I have been up all night, and I can scarc ely k e ep my eyes open for very weariness." "Then it's I who'll be the last to detane you, Mr. Beamish,'' replied Arrah. The M'Coul wrung her hand agairi, wished her a happy wedding-day and a life of double blessedness, and going into the cottage took up his position under the thatch, and, like a tho1'oughbred true l':rish gentleman that hA was, fell asleep, though his pillow was a joist, his bed a couple of boards, and his covering the musty thatch of an old Irish cabin "Oh this is kind of dear Misthre Beamish," cried A,rrah, when she was alone. Oh! wha t a lot of money, and won't Shaun be glad, the dadint, for he'll be able to buy pigs and praties galore." She had scarcely finisbed h er remarks when a footstep fell. upon her ear; turninj round she encountered the gaze of Mr. Michael Feeny, who was shuf fling towards the cabin as well as the state of the roads would permit him. He wore a sad and melancholy expression upon his countenance, though it lightened a little when he saw Arrah, who, not inclined to be civil, turned her back upon him and took up a couple of pails, which stood hard by, and into which she intended to milk the cow "Dear me! Bless my sowl exclaimed Miuhael 'Feeny, "what a count hrythisl is, to be shure I wish I was dead and in my grave, 1 do." "And what's the matter with you, Misthre Feeny," said Arrah, turning round and condescending to speak to him, seeing that a meeting was inevitr.ble. "I've been robbed,'' groaned Michael Feeny. "Robbed, is it?" "Yes, and I have my suspicions.'' ,"Oh! that's a comfort to your fay lings." "Where has Shaun been r "Where do you think?" "Where was he all night?" "Where was your face before it was "Spake me civil,'' said Michael Feeny. "Why should I spake ye civil, Michael Feeny," cried Arrah Meelish, faci1ig him angrily; what are you to may? Why do you come here, you omad houn ?" "We shall say : I ha ve my suspicions." What do you mane by that ?" "Where was Shaun last night?" "I tell yez I don't know. In bed, I suppose ; where else should he be ?" "I've lost me money, for I was stopped last night and robbed; but it is not that, Arrah, that I came to see yez about." 'f What then ?" I love you, Arrah ; I 1o:ve you, acushla." "Indad."


J 14 A?-rah-na-Pogue, ( Arrah-of-the-Kiss); "Listen to may, me colleen. It's I who loYe you wid all my heart." "That's not saying much." "And why?" Bekaise you've got no heart worth-spaking of," replied Arrah, with a laugh, \Vhich rang through the surrounding atmosphere. "Will you have me ?" Have you?" "Yes." "Do you not know that to-day I am to be married to Shaun? You canuot plade ignorance to that." "Shaun! may the thunders and the lightnings never stop-" "I'll tell him," cried Arrah, and perhaps he'll have a thrifle of spache wid yez." "He robbed me." "He! Shaun robbed you!" replied Arrah; "what next will you say-what should he rob you for?" "My money," r e plied Feeny, laconically. "And do you think we want your dirty money? Look here." She produced the notes which Beamish M'Coul had given her, and holding them up in the air, said, "Do you see this ?-all notes, bank notes, and is it money we want?" Michael Feeny's eyes glistened as he saw the paper. He crept up to Arrah, and leaning over her shoulder, said in a tre mulous tone-' Bank notes, eh Bank notes ; let me see?" "Oh! 'yes, you may see; here's a five, and a ten, ana a five and a ten again, and--" "Ah!" cried Michael Feeny, what's that my name? Yes; my name on the back. I was right. l Shaun r9bb e d me. Oh! this is glorious!" He spoke in a low tone, and Arrah said, .What's that ye'r.e saying, Misthre Feeny?" "Nothing my dear, nothing ; I'm only wondering at you having so much 1 money in your possession." "And is it Shaun that would rob you, when we've all that money? Go along wid you and serve your processors." Taking up her pails, after having placed the notes in her pocket, she went away singing to milk the cows, and le.ft Feeny standing by himself before th e cottage. He walk e d up and down in a restless manner, with his hands clasp e d behind his back, his h ead bent forward, and evidently engaged in deep thought. "Could it have been Shaun that robbed me," he muttered; "or was it somebody else? Who is in the cottage? I thought I h eard some one. Th e old woman cannot be stirring-I'll listen." He walked to the door, and putting his ear to the key-hole; listened atten tively for some time. Unhappily for him, Shaun.the-post, happened to come he was in the midst of that interesting occupation. "Is it lis'nin' ye are at the kay-hole, Misthre Feeny?" cried Shaun, laying hold of him and sending him into the middle of the road with a vigorous push. What do you mane by this insolence ?" "I'll have none of your spying and prying here, Michael Feeny. It's me wedding day, and I don't want no crawlin' reptiles." "You'll be sorry for this," said Michael Feeny in a rage. Oh no; no one can touch me. They called you Mikel when you was born, but they christened you over again, and now we all know you're a rogue and a thief, Michael Feeny. They can't say nothing agin' me, glory be to God bekaise I never stooped to your dirty work ; and if I was tried by a jury to morrow, I'd come out with flying colours. They'll kee p the gate of Hivin


Or, The Wedding. 15 close agi.n you, imd when it comes to the last of all, you'll be bate, Michael Feeny." 1 "We shall say about that, we shall say,'' replied Feeny, in a proverbial philosophic manner. The discussion seemed to wax warm, when Arrah Meelish returned from the cow-shed, and saw at a glance how affairs stood. "Is it talking to you about the money, Shaun, he $ays he's cried Arrah, setting down her pails, full of new milk, in the road. "It's a few words we're having." "He says you robbed him." "D orth a Arrah, go, dhe shin dher thu," cried Shaun, in pure Irish. ("Confound you, Arrah, what are you saying ?") Michael Feeny did not understand Irish, and he looked vacantly at the speaker. "You may talk in your own dialect," he said; "but I have my suspicions. "You are right to say our di'lect," replied Shaun; "for Ireland won't own you. .'He's a wretch, Shaun, and wants me to--" "Bhe dha husth; fag a rogarah lumsa." (Hold your tongue; leave the ras cal to me.) In obedience to this command, Ar.rah Meelish was silent, and went into th e house with her pails of milk. Small pails they were, but even the little milk she obtained was a great boon to them, and enabled them to obtain many luxuries. The lot of an Irish peasant in those days was a hard one, and the absentees know that even now it is not much better. There ltre those who love Ireland, and hope for better days, but the Celt is being absorbed by the Saxon, and gl()omy is the future of a brave and clever people, who have not their parallel on the face of the globe for heroic endurance, and indomitable love of their fatherland. 1 Be off, Michael Feeny," cried Shaun-the-Post. "I should like to see the fore front of your back." Feeny slunk away, mu'ttering-" There was some ontl in the cabin, and it was not Shaun; ha! ha! They slight me, and insulti me, but I fancy l have discovered the rebel nest, ho ho! lf it should be that Beamish M'Coul is concealed in Arrah's cabin, what a triumph for me! Whist! Michael, don't let so much as a lafe hear you; you're on the right road, and will if you are true to yourself, unkennel the M'Coul; 'twas him 'Who robbed me. I see it all; but whist! whist! the time will come, whist! we shall see." "V eehone bradagh !" (Vagabond scoundrel), said Shaun the-Post, when he saw the back of him. The innate honesty of an Irish peasant's character makes him instinctively detest anything that is vile and underhanded : a proce$Sserver, a man who doe s dirty work for which he could honestly acquire by means, is, and always has been, an object of hatred to Paddy. That man," muttered Shaun, "is a bad one. May I niver taste porther agin, if I shouldn't like to see him cowld in his grave It's little waking I'm thinking he'd get for me, and devil a praste is there in the country who'd say a mass for his dirty sowl." Arrah stole softly out of the cabin, and coming behind Shaun, touched him lightly on the shoulder. "Biess your purty face, acushla," cried Shaun. "Shure its my own you'll be sron, and I'll love you betther than the pig and the praties Can you keep a secret, Shaun 1" said Arrah. "Thry me."


16 Arrak-na-Pogue; (Arrah-of-the.: : Kiss ;) Well, I will ; but you must keep it bekaise I wouldn't like every Qne to know. Look here." She produced the notes, much to Shaunrs delight. Is it all yours ?" he inquired. All of it." And who was the good fairy that give it you?" "That is the secret !" "I won't tell." Well, it was the M'Coul." "Mishter Beamish?' "Yes, but you must mind what you have promised, and not tell any one. 'This money,' he said, 'was my widdin' P,risint, and much good might it do me,' he added." "Thank the Lord,'' said Shaun-the-Post, whose heart swelled within him. He could, with a little mdney in his' possession, defy a bad p<1tato season, and keep starvation from the door / even if .his pigs died-potatoes and pigs being the two great staples of Irish industry and trade. After some conversation, the lovers separated, Shaun promising to return with his friends to claim Arrah Meelish as his oride, and to take he;r to the nearest magistrat\l, to ask permhisi-0n to have a merrymaking to celebrate the event after the Priest had tied the bonds which were to make them man and wife, until deatb did part them. I. CHAPTER V :E o'GRADY. I THE liead ofa clati in Ireland is alwaye known as "the," which distinguishing epith e t places hi, m above all others of the same name, so that Colonel Bagenal O'Gracly of Ballybetagh, being the head of all O'Grady's in Wicklow, was esse ntially the O'Grady in the fullest sense of the expressive word. He. was a fine fellow, and an Irish gentleman, which is saying a great deal. Like all m en, he had his weakness. Now, Colonel Bagenal O'Grady's weakness was a strortg affection for Miss Fanny Power ofCabinteely, who he loved with all his heart. Until the outlawry of the chivalrous, but unfortunate M'Coul; &he had de spised his suit and treated him with contempt; but the O'Grady happened to be on very friendly terms with the Secretary of State at Dublin, apd in this functionary's power was it to condemn the "rebels," as they were called; and hoping to obtain a pardon for Beamish M'Coul, Fanny Power encouraged the O'Grady, and led him ori to purpose that her feelings for him had undergone a change, and he poor fellow1 was sirripie-minded enough to believe that it aotl!ally was so, and that Fanny loved him. Before she would speak to him on the subject of love she laid down a condi tion, and that was that the colonel should write to the Secretaty of and obtain a pardon for the M'Coul. 1 He consented to do so, and an answer from Dublin was expected eve;ry day. The morning after the meeting on the lonely shore of Glendalough, Fanny Power reeeived a message from the O'Grady, begging her to sliep r.ouncJ to Ballybetagh, and apologizing for not coming to her 011 the ground .of urgent magisterial business, he added that he had news of an important nature to com municate, which he hoped would be pleasing to her. Fanny at once ordered her carriage, and drove to Ballybetagh. The O'Grady never for one moment suspected that Miss Power was,,interest-eJ in the J\f'Coul, or he would not have exerted himself to obtain his pardon.


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 17 It is a characteristic of frank, stirling, honest people, that they are not at all suspicious; they take everything as it comes, and even a child may deceive them with the exercise of a very little trouble. He knew that he was a good.hearted fellow and a bluff soldier, and he fan cied that his good qualities and his personal appearance had so worked upon Fanny that, in conjunction with his assiduous attention, she had been won over to love him. Miss Power more than suspe c ted that the worthy colonel had received news from Dublin, and she made her horses go as quickly as the hilly nature of country and the bad state of th e roads would permit. On arriving at Ballybetagh sh e was sh own into the armoury where the O'Grady was anxiously awai1ing h e r coming. "Good-morning, Miss Power," he exclaimed. "It is kind of you to come to mo ; I would never have a s ked you had, I not been tied by the leg here. The fact is, I have just got a letter from me friend the Secretary, and he gives ii par don to that hot-heade d young man the M'Coul, and much good may the clem ency of the crown do him, say I." "A pardon," cried Fanny, clasping h e r hands and looking up to Heaven thankfully. _, "Yes-a full and free pardon: shall I read it to you?" "If you pleas e ." The O'Grady, full of importance and inflat e d with s e lf-esteem and satisfaction, took a paper from his pocket, and slowly unfolding it, read:"It is his Majesty's pleasure to grant a pardon to the M'Coul, otherwise Beamish M'Coul, always pr6vid e d thathe has taken no part in the fresh disturb ances which have lately broken out in various parts of the County Wicklow; and further, that the said Beami13h M'Coul at once leaves the shores of Ireland and retires for the period of two years to France, or some foreign country. Should, however, the M'Coul b e proved to hav e taken part in the fres1! disturb ances above to, this pardon shall be null and void." Fanny turned pale, and the blank expression of her face showed how much she was disappointed. She did not for a moment suppose that he had taken part in any fresh dis turban c es, and she was altogether ignorant of the part he had played in the rob b ery of Michael Fee ny, which robbery was a very serious offence, seeing that : F e eny was a government agent at that time, carrying money which was the property of the government, as the M'Coul's rents had been legally confiscated to the crown. That was not what annoyed and distressed her. The grief from which she was suffering arose from a totally different cause. He was to be banished for two years from his country; for two long weary years she would never see him-never hear his voice, or drink in words of love which it delighted him to utter. This was a hard condition, and she said, petulantly, I don't call that a pardon at all." You don't, Miss Power?" "You may think so, but I don't. Fancy driving the poor man away from his country for two years. It is dreadful." "It saved his neck from a halter, at any rate," replied the O'Grady; "and when he's away from Ireland his courage will cool." "It doesn't want cooling, sir." "Eh, you take a great interest in this young man," said the O'Grady, a little suspiciously, raising his eyes, and looking at Fanny steadfastly. She saw the errors of which she had been guilty, and at once proceeped to rectify it, saying" My dear O'Grady, I take an interest in the M'Coul because-h'm-because


18 .Arrcih-na-Pogue ; ( .A1-rah-of-tlie-Kiss;) -yes-I mean that he is a neighbour, and is going to be hanged or shot for nothing at all, as one may say. His only fault is ioving his country too well; and now I come to think of it, I agree with you that an exile of two years in a foreign land will do him a great deal df good, and be highly beneficial to him. Oh yes, highly beneficial; and I am much obliged to you for all your trouble." "Don't thank me, Miss Power, for it was a pleasure to serve you; and hav-ing served you I h ope I may expect my reward." "Your r eward !" said Fanny, pretending ignorance of his meaning "Ballybetagh's waiting for its Mistress O'Grady." "0, colonel, how can you!" said Fanny; "you really must not. It is so sudden." "But by the powers--" He was int errupted in his tender speech by a great uproar outside the armoury, and both h e and Fanny turned eagerly round-the la tte r thankfully -to discover the cause of the disturbance. CHAPTER VI. ARRAH-NA-POGUE. TnE noise which aroused the attention and int errupted the love-makin g of the O'Grady was occasioned by the ent rance of the wedding-party from Arrah's cabin at Lar agh. Owing to tbe disturbed state of the country, a gathering together of the peasantry was not permitted without special license from a magistrate, for fear t hat any such gathering might be merely a cloak for a seditious and treasonable meeting. Shaun fast, leading Arrah Me e lish by the h and They were both covered with a rosy colour, arising from that very natural mauvaise lwnte with which the occasion of marriage often impregnates both the bride and bridegroom. They were b ot h dressed in their best, and look ed a very well-matched pair. Th ey were well known to the O'Grady, and h e had a great r espect for them as honest and industrious people, k eeping aloof from the seditions of the day, and minding their own business while w or king for their livin g Had the colonel kn own that Arrah Meelish at that moment was concealing the M'Coul, and that h e had in her cabi n for more than six weeks eluded the v igilance of his Britanni c Majesty's troops, h.'3 would have altered his op ini on "Shaun-the-Post and Arrah-na-Pogue !" exclaimed the colonel; "upon my word, a very i;i.1ce couple." "Arrah-na-Pogue," r epea t ed Miss Power;. "why that means Arrah of the kiss." "To be sure it does. Have you never heard the story?" "Never. I should lik e to h ear it ext r emely; my curiosity is e xcited/' r eplied Fanny. "Arrah, my girl," said the colonel, "just tell the lady h ow the peasantry came to nickname you' Na-Pogue.'" Arrah blushed, stammered, and hid h e rs elf behind Shaun, wh o pushed h er forward aga:in, saying" Shure, and th e O'Grady hims elf asks you.'' Your honour will excuse rne,' cried Arrah. "She's a bit narvous, your honour," exclaimed Shaun apologetically. "Well, do you tell the story yourself, Shaun." Troth, that I will, your honour, wid the greatest of pleasure. You see, miss, it was this way," began Shaun-the.Post; "there was a man who was Arrah's


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 19 foster brother, and the soldiers had something agin him, and put him in the prison. The bhoys didn't want to see him choked like a dog, so they got up atwixt them a little matther of escape, but the difficulty was how to let the prisoner know of it, and they came to Arrah, and she said write it down on a bit of papher, and they did it. She put the paper in her mouth, you see, Miss, and went to the pris 0 n to see her foster broth e r, and in coorse they kissed one another, and while t .hey were kissing, Arrah, the darlint, slipped the paper from her mouth into her foster brother's, and so he knew what the bhoy's were doing for him, and betwane them all he got out, and that's why they call her Arrah. na-Pogue." "That was a capital plan," said Fanny Power, "and quite an original idea. I must confess I never heard of such a Post-office "The Irish arc famed for their ingenuity,'' said the O'Grady, chiming in. "But now, boys, what is it? I suppose Shaun's going to run his head into a noose, and you all of you want my permission to keep the wake up, and drink your potheen without interruption." Shaun-the-Post replied in the affirmative. "You have it then. Go and enjoy yourselves, and the blessings of God be upon all of you, more especially on the two heAA'ts that are soon to be one. Run along, boys, and put yourselves outside the cratur." "Hurroo hurroo More power to your elbow. Long life to the O'Grady !" cried the peasants, in a deafening chorus. "Paddy go aisy,'' said Shaun the-Post, leading the way out, with A.rrah on his arm. His heart danced with joy, and he felt prouder than ever a king in the world. When the room was cleared, Fanny Power said, So they have gone to get married. They have my good wishes, poor simple creatures. They seem happy enough Happy as the day's long. Ha whom have we here? Major Coffin, as I am alive. Take a seat, Miss Power, if you will have the goodness to excuse me for half a minute." The door had opened, giving admittance to Major Coffin, an English officer, and in command of his M

20 Arrah-na-Pogue; (Arrah-of-the Kiss ;) "Yes. Of what nature 1" Most serious affair, I assure you. The rebel M'Coul's rents were confiscated by my order, and I sent one Michael Feeny--" "Ha!" "You know him?" "For a scoundre l and a thi e f; but go on. "To collect the rents, which he did; but on his way home he was robbed by some on e who also took his pass from him." Fanny becam e interested on hearing this. "Robbed by Glendalough," she muttered; "had his pass taken from him th e M'Coul's rents-why Beamish himself must have done it. Oh dear! when will m y troubles cease? Jf this is true, all the O'Grady's exertions are useless H e has taken part in fresh disturbances, and the pardon of th e government is so much waste paper, and good for nothing." "As you say, major, this is serious," replied the O'Grady. "I had no idea that th e country was still so much disturbed. That there were daring and obstinate spirits about, I know, yet, to rob a government agent-very bad, very bad." An example must be made." "Most assuredly. Have you got any clue to the criminal?" "Nothing decided, as yet; though Michael Feeny sent m e word this morn ing that h e was on the scent, and would meet me here, with information of a valuable character, at half-past twelve o'clock." "It is that now, and here is Feeny," said the O'Grady. "Ugh! the reptile, the slimy wretch, my flesh creeps to be in the same room with him Were I not a magistrate, and comp e lled to take depositions, I would very speedily kick him out of the house ; it would not be the first time either that Michael Feeny and I have come in collision, and that h e has been roughly handled." Michael Feeny came forward with his accustomed gliding, crawling motion looking the incarnation of humbleness, holding his hat between his two hands, as if it were an heirloom, and he afraid to lose so great a treasure. "Well, my man, what's your news ? cried Major Coffin. "It's as good as it can be, major,'' was the reply. Out with it, then Feeny hesitated, and looked first at Fanny Power and then at the Englishman, managing, as well as he could to keep his eye on the O'Grady, from whom he .seemed to fear a personal assault. Why don't you speak 1" "It's important, major." "Well, what of that 1" I shouldn't like what I spake to go beyant these walls." "Certainly not Who is to take it?" "Axing your pardon, your honour, for making so bowld, but--" Here he broke off abruptly, and pointed to Fanny. "Oh! I perceive the man's moaning now, colonel,'' said Major Coffin; "he does not like to speak before that lady." "That lady is my very excellent and good friend, Miss Power, of Cabinteely,'' said the O'Grady, indignantly. "And just as frienJ1y with the M'Coul,'' Feeny ventur ed to say, retreating to a little distance, and getting behind Major Coffin for protection. "Oh! for a dog-whip or a yard of good blackthorn," cried the O'Grady ; "I'd break every bone in the rascal's skin. One word more, sir, of your inso lence, and manslaughter will be nothing to what I'll do to you "Better adjourn to your private room,'' said the Major


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 21 As you like, as you like," replied the O'Grady, ; I can answer, however, for Miss Power's discr et ion." The three men entered a private room. Fanny sprang to her feet, and running to the door, listened through the in valuable medium of the keyhole to all that passed. It would have been better for h e r peace of mind had she not done so. CHAPTER VII. FANNY POWER BECOMES JEALOUS. IT must be borne in mind, that every word uttered by the three men who had r etire d into O'Grady's private room was heard by Fanny Power, and every word that she heard sank deeply into her heart. The O'Grady seated himself, crossed his l e gs, and looked Michael Feeny hard in the face, as if h e wished to read his thoughts through the expression of his features. and thus guage the fellow's honesty, if, indeed, h e were posses se d of any. The colon e l thought that in all probability th e rent collector was about to trump up some infamous accusation against some unfortunate individual, who, by his d evot ion to his country, had fallen under the ban and acquired the name of reb e l. Major Coffin stood near the fir e -place, leaning against the marble mantel-piece holding his sword in one hand, and some papers ,he carried with him in the oth e r. Feeny would have been glad to sit down, for he slept badly during the :hight, rising ea rly, and walked some distance that morning, but his knowl e dge of the O'Grady's character was such that he felt positive that if he ventur e d to tak e such a lib erty as to rest hims elf in a chair, he would leave the house quick e r than h e had entered it, and in a mann e r not at all congenial to his feelings Taking up a p en, th e O'Grady exclaimed, "I presume, Mr. Feeny, that you have a d e position to m a ke?" "I hav e that same, sir." "Very w e ll. I am ready to hear you." "At h a lf-pa s t nine last night, your honour, I was coming from Laragh with the M'Coul's rints in me pock et They w e r e gold and notes tied up in a canvas bag. I had got as far as Glendalough, wh en I was st pp e d by some one, and robb ed of the Government money and me pass He paused. "Is that Who was it robbed you?" "I don't know, sir, though, thruth to tell, I think that I can point to the man though it's not for the likes of me to say anything widout furth e r proof." "What is the man driving at?" said O'Grady. L e t him alone, colonel," replied Major Coffin, "I'll have it all out of him. He'll come to the point presently." It's just this, Colonel Bagenal," contin u e d the process-server, "I've dis-covered the reb e l's nest." : "Discovered what?" vociferated Colonel Bag ena l O'Grady. "I can put me hand on Beamish M'Coul," said Michael Feeny, whose littl e fcrrety eyes sparkled with vindictive spite, gratified malice, and conscious triumph. To point out the hiding place of the M'Coul was indeed an achievement, for to do so had puzzled all the king's soldiers and all the king's men for som e weeks.


I 22 .Arrah-na-P0i "You know where the M'Coul lives?" I do, your honour." LfU:A "This is important,'' said Major Coffin. "If I don't know where he liv es, I know where he slapes," said Feeny. "Where is h e now?" "In the cabin." Whose cab in ?" That of Arrah M ee lish, at Laragh." Oh! how Fanny Power's heart throbbed and beat tumultuously as if it must burst its frail tenement. Oh how she pressed her hands together, so as to control h e r strong emotion B eamish M'Coul at Laragh Mr. B eam ish hiding away in a mud cabinand whose cabin? That of Arrah Me e lish The shelter of other cabins was open to him-why should he seek shelter beneath Arrah's roof? if-if h e h a d not loved her. The thought was madness. While h e professed to love one, in reality his heart was another's. Oh! monstrous perfidy. Oh! inhuman cruelty. And this was the man whom she had trusted, put confidence in, and loved this was the man for whom she had rejected the honourable advances of the O'Grady. That the M'Coul did love Arrah, and that he was trifling with h erse lf, Fanny Power did not for a moment doubt. Like all her sex, she was impulsive in the extreme, and she jumped to the conclus ion without proper r eflection; and having arriv ed at that conclusion up on what did she determine? simply that she would tax Beamish with his infidelity, and be revenged upon him for his supposed perfidy. D o you distinctly assert, my good fellow, that the r ebel M'Coal is concealed in the house-or what d'ye call it-cabin of one Arrah Meelish ?" "Most decidedly I do, Major, a nd I have corne here to ax his h onou r the O'Grady for a warrant for his arrest as a rebel and a traitor to his Majesty the King." If h e has no more than that to allege against the M'Coul," said Colonel Bag enal O'Grady, "I regret--or confound it, I must speak my mind-I'm glad I cannot grant him his warrant." "Cannot! and why not?" inquir ed Major Coffin. B ecause I hold in my hand a pardon for the M'Coul." A pardon ?" "Yes." On what conditions?" "Ah, you h ave me there,'' replied the O'Grady; "I was very nearly forgetting the conditions. The pardon is granted provided that M'Coul has not been actively in any of the disturbances that have lately convulsed the county Wicklow." Michael Feeny's face had fallen at first, but when h e h eard the conditions upon which the pardon was granted his face light e d up, and h e assumed an ex prassion of delight. "Give me the warrant, colonel,1' he cried; I can prove that it was he who robbed me last night at Glendalough." Where are your proufs ?" "Never mind the proofs jist now, your honour. You can't ax me for thim now. When he's on his trial I'll give them. All I ax for is your warrant." Colonel Bagenal O'Grady seemed in doubt whether or not he should grant a wal'rant. It was clear that his leaning wa1:1 towards the popular party, and that h e would rather let the M'Coul go than hang him.


Or, Tlie Wicklow Wedding. 23 "I think, O'Grady, that you cannot hesitate in granting the warrant this mau asks for,'' exclaimed Major Coffin. "If his honour doesn't, Pll go to another magistrate who will," cried Feeny. H o ld yo ur tongue, you scoundrel !'' shouted the O'Grady. "Gr.ant m e the warrant, and I'll hould me tongue." The O'Grady reflected a moment, and: at length, though very much against his will, h e granted a warrant, signed it, and presented it to Michael Feeny, who stood ready t o receive it. "I recave it with thanks, yo ur honour,'' h e e xclaimed. Having sec ur e d what he want ed, h e mad e his o beisance, and shuffled away, muttering, "Ah ha! I hav e him now. 1'11 spoil the widdin-l'll bring them a ll down int o the dust. Divil doubt m e I have been after th e M'Coul all weathers. I've had bitth e r thramps of it on cowld and cuttin' mornings: the very nose was n early whipped off o' m e Throth, it was mys elf who felt like a s i eve; and he robb e d me. But the time will come-ay, it has come-it has, it has!" As h e said this h e ran away with his warrant, eager to e xecute it, and place t h e M 'Co ul in durance vi:le. He hated Arrah because sh e was going to be married to Shaun; and yet, in the midst of his hatred, he loved her. If he could prov e that she had sh elte red the M'Coul he knew that he could place h e r in prison, and stop the wedding that was about to take place ; therefore he wished to find the M'Coul on the premises He went direct to th e barracks, and showiRg his warrant, engaged the services of a sergeant and a file of m en, who placed themselves und er his orders, and proceeded to Arrah's cabin. Miss Powe r all this time was violently enraged Sh e made sure that B eam ish M'Coul was deceiving her and playing h e r false. She fancied that h e r love turned to hatred, and that she would rather see him d ea d than th e lov er of Arrah Me e lish. H e r mind was a chaos of ideas, and she went. home without taking leave of the O'Grady, debating in h e r mind what she should do. CHAPTER VIII. THE WEDDING. SucH is the power of love, that although the Nl'Coul had taken leave of his sweetheart, his soul failed him at th e last moment, and he wished to bid her adieu once more on his way to a foreign land He wrote her a note, which he sent by a trusty messenger, begging Miss Power to grant him the favour of an int e rvi e w at a wild spot some miles from both Laragh and Cabinteely, called the Devil's Glen. Had he lingered at Laragh when he ought to have been able to make his escape and g e t away from the myrmidons of the law, whom Michael Feeny, the snake in the grass, was attracting together. He \Vas loth to l ea ve Wicklow, the county in which he was born, in which beat many kind and loving hearts, and which held all that he. th0ught dear. It was hard to be banished from each familiar spot, and from every well-known face, but the f e ll decree had gone forth, and go he must. H e had little else to do in his captivity-for it was little better-than to sing softly, as he lay hid beneath the thatch. Born in a wild, rude country, he was n. child of song, impregnated with a wild love of He ?ould play than one instrument, and would frequently extemporize a weird and thrillmg


24 A1r.ah-na-Pogue; ( Arrah-of-the-Kiss) ; melody, such as made the pulse quicker, or e l se brought the t ears into eyes that w e r e g e n e rally fre e fr om t h ose bright dew-drops. Ou th e morning of the wedding h e was concealed as usual up on some raft ers in th e roof of the cabin. His eyes w e r e moist, for he was thinkin g what hi s would b e if fate w e r e suddenly to hurry Fanny Powe r into e t ernity. H e had a pre sentim ent tha t something inimical to his love was ab out to happ e n and allowing s ad thoughts to steal over him, he sang in a pathetic voic e a scrap of a ditty th a t had e v e r b ee n a favourit e one with him. It was called "The Death of Zora." A coffin hid fr o m my l ong in g gaze, Obs cure d as it wosin n tearful hnze, All that remain ed o f Z ora. Ile r eyes were c l osed in n dcnt lil ess s l eep, God bless her! She neither heard n o r saw me weep; Thoug h my eyes w ere red nnd m y sobs were l oud And full low m the dust m y hend wns bowed, A s I prayed that God mi ght bless h e r The cho i ces t gifts, the sweete s t flowers Warmed by the sun and n o uri s h ed by showers, Nursed in the lap of Fl ora, W ere l n\d on h er breast by a loving hand, As h a rbrn gers of n h ap p y land--Thy future home, m y Z ora L e t the bell toll, Her angel sou l Has spee d ed on before h er." The last words of this aff ect ing chaunt had hardly di e d away before the M'Coul recoll ected th a t the precious hours were fleeting, and the shadows l e ngth e ning told him that the tim e at which h e had entreated Fanny Power t o m ee t him was drawing n e ar. D esce nding with th e utmost caution, h e sto l e to the r ea r of the pre mis es, and entered a hug e b a rn, whi c h had been cleared t o make room for the w e dding f es tiviti es L oo king through a chink in the wall, he fancied h e saw the glimmer of a bayon e t in the !:!llnshine. Had some on e b e trayed him? Could h e b e surrounded by soldi ers? To ru s h out and d efy the m was folly. Another and a longe r look d ete rmin e d him in his impre ssion that an ambush had been formed around Arrah's cabin. What was to be done ? The wedding party would r eturn directly; he expected every minute. Their hearts were light and their limbs strong, while the distance between L a r ag h and Bally betagh was not great, and could soon be travers e d. The pri est would arrive at a later hour, and the n e -Post and Arrah. na-Pogue would be man and wife. Until the time for the ceremony arrived, m a ny songs would b e sung, many jigs danced, and much whiskey consum e d by the broths of bhoys" who had ass emble d to do honour to Shaun-the-Post and hi s blushing bride. Suddenly a noise, as of a concourse of m e n and women shouting at the top of their voices, was heard. It was the wedding-party. The M'Coul ran np the stairs, and staid at the top, in a place from wh e nce he could observe all that pass e d below, without b e ing seen himself. Could Arrah M ee lish have betrayed him? He knew not ; his mind was in a whirl, and he awaited the course of events with an awful impati e nce.


Or, The Wickloio Wedding. 25 In came the Irishmen, lads, and and lass es trooping along, having given themselves up to the pleasures of the hour with a happy abandonment, that al m ost amo unte d to childishness "Hurroo bhoys !"cried Shaun-the-Post : "This way for the cratur. In for a penny, in for a pound. Follow me; there's whiskey garlore, and you mustn't care a thraneen for anyt hing e lse. }'aix, and we'll kick up our heels this day." The crowd followed Shaun-the-Post into the house, but Arrah Meelish con trived to r e main behind. She was alone in the barn. This was a conjuncture the M'Coul had be e n waiting for. In an instant he was by Arrah's side. Arrah !" he said "Misther B eam ish !'' she ejaculated in surprise. "I thought you was gone." "I wish to H e aven I had Laragh hours ago," replied the M'Coul, bitterly. "And why would you be wislfrng that?" "Beca use some one h as betrayed me." "Bet ray e d you ?" "Yes." Shur!'l, Misth e r B e amish, th e re isn't a bhoy or a colleen in a ll the counthry side tliat would whisp e r a word that would harm the smallest hair of your h ead "Yet the fact is as I hav e stated it. The hous e is surrounded by so ldiers, who, no d oubt, only wait th e ir opportunity. I am in d es p e rate peril." "It must be Mi c hael Feeny, the bhaste h e it was that hung about the cabin all the morning. May the divil give him his best blessing!" What can I do, my girl!" "1 have it, your honour; climb up the wan at the baok till ye reach a tree, spring to that, and y ou will g e t to the long through which ye can crawl without the English imps as muc,ll as glimpsing at you ." I will try. That is better than nothing." "Yes, yes ; thry, MisthPr B e&mish, for the good God's sake, thry ; the sol diers must not catc h you. The bhoys shall make noise enoug h to prevent th e soldi e rs h ea ring you. Lose no time, your honour." You are right. I hav e no time to lose. I acquit you of any participation in this pi ece of treac hery, for such it must be. Good-bye; God bless you, and prosper your wedding, my child. I must go away." He waved his hand and disappeared up the stairs, l eaving Arrah Meelish in doubt as to whether he would be able to accomplish the arduous enterpri se he had undertaken. How fervently she hoped he might, how ardently she pray e d for his success, and h ow eagerly and inte ntly she listened for th e slightest sound from without! If he could only reach the tree without being perceived, and slid e down the trunk into the long grass, he would be safe. Her mind was so much absorbed with the p e ril in which Beamish M'O ou l stood, that she w!s almost oblivious that the present day of grace was the h appiest in Shaun's life. She was overwhelmed with sorrow and shame, to think that th ere should be the remotest chance of the rebel M'Coul's capture, while re ceiving sanctuary in her cabin. "Wirra, wirra," she cried in a plaintive voice. "Oh! that this heavy dis should fall upon me, and at this time, too. Js it the curse o' God that's fallen upon me for being desateful to poor Shaun 1 Wirra, wirra, and it's a sad lime intirely !" In the midst of h er distress, she had turned her back to the door l eading into the principa l part of the cottage, and Shaun having h er, had turned back to see what had become of her.


26 Arrah-na-Pogue ; (Arrali-of tlie,Kiss) ; He approached her silently, and her in his arms. "Oh! Shaun," she said, tearfully. "Whist, darlint, and is it crying ye are?" said Shaun, regar This by the way. ,., The boys were not long in acting upon the hint thrown out by Shaun, and in a short time a tremendous romp was taking place. The colleens were running here, thei;e, and everywhere, like so many hunted }).ares, screaming at the top of their voices, as the Sabine womet\ might have done, when the Roman soldiers made a raid upon their territory, and carried ipem off vi et arrnis. When all the requisite hugging and kis13\ng had been gone through to the satisfaction of all present, order was restoFed, aud Shaun was called upon to show his skill in dancir.g An old woman who, in the winter of life, had still a dash of summer in her composition, represented the County Connaug ht, and she challenged Shaun as the representative of Wicklow. The inevitable fiddler was, of course, and mounting upon a couple of chairs, he pulled the strings of his instrui:1ent tight, and began to fiddle away with that amount of physical energy an Irish jig requires for its due and proper performance. The pair faced one another, and the began, continuing for some time. The Connaught lady evinced great saltatory skill, and a wonderful power of endurance, which ended finally amidst much laughter in the defeat of Shaun the Post, who covered with ridicule-good-humoured, of course-was compelled to acknowledge himself beaten, and to abandon the contest. The Connaught lady was led back to her seat, amidst vociferous applause, her .cheeks flushed with the exerqise, and her eyes burning with the fire of other days, scintillating occasionally as the reminiscence of past triumphs and buried achievements was brought vividly before hel' After that, Shaun was called upon for a song. The most famous rebel ditty at that period was the Wearing of the Green," and it was a great offence to sing it. The Marseillaise or the Parisienne,"


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 27 are not more strictly prohibited in Paris than was the" Y.V earing of the Green" in the days we speak of. Shaun, however, himself amongst friends, and, without a word, told the fiddler to strike up the inspiriting air which had the power of stirring every h eart to an enth usi astic madness. In a clear voice, full of pa thos, he began"The y've thrampled ou poor ould Ire land, And made the stones to weep ; And many a man they've hunted down, Lies iu his Jong, last sleep. The English they have done all this, Our best blood they have shed ; Father and sons lie side by side, Mother and daughters are dead. "But they cannot kill the shamrock, Of patriot signs the queen; And they cannot stop an Irishman From wearing of the green. They may shed our blood, and make the land The wildest ever seen ; But every blade of grass pluck up Before they kill the green. 'rhen listen to what I say, bhoys, .A.nd mark well what I mean ; .A.s long as tliere'ti breath in our bodies We'll all of us wear the green." The app l ause which followed this ill-construct e d and rugged ditty was l oud and long. It h ad been listened to in the most profound silence. The eyes of both men and women had flashed with ill-suppressed rage; the corners of their mouths were drawn down; their h(l.nds tightly compressed ; and their breasts h eaved with an indignant fire, which showed that the volcano was not extin guish e d by the ironheel of the southron but slumbered, biding its time, for a fresh eruption. Whe n silence was restored once more, Shaun-the-Post gave out the last verse again, and it was sung in slow and sol em n silence, as if it had been a chant or funeral dirge. CHAPTER IX. MICHAEL FEENY'S BLOODHOUNDS. AFTER the song with which Shaun-the-Post had favoured his assembled guests was brought to a conclusion, the whisky was passed round with rapidity, and everybody's spirits rose in proportion to the quantity of spirit they imbibed. The priest was expected every minute. Wqen the f e stivities were at their height, the measured tread of armed men was h eard, the clank of muskets, and the rattling of accoutrements also fell upon the startled ears of the peasants. The big gates of the barn were flung violently open, and the sergeant, who had sung "Lillibullero,'' on the. shore ofGlendalough, marched in at the h ead of men with whom was the arch informer, Michael Feeny, his little grey eyes


28 Arrah-na-Pogue, ( Atrah-of-the-Kiss); twinkling like those of a ferret, and his thin lips pursed into a triumphant rigidity. The peasants made way f()1' the soldiers, and the sergeant ex. claimed, in a loud voice-" I come h ere with a warrant, duly signed and delivere(\ by Colonel Bagenal O'Grady, and by virtue of the said warrant I claim th e right to search the cabin in order to effect the arrest of an arch traitor, who, we have reason to believe, owing to information that has 11eached us, is here concealed. M e n, do your duty." Four men d etac hed themselves from the little column, and began to ransack the cabin amidst expressions from the p easa nts of the wildest astonishment. Shaun-the-Post stood like a statue and n eve r said a word. Arrah Meelish was in a sad alarm. She hoped that the M'Coul, to whom she was indebted for the roof that was over her, had escaped. If he had made the venture, it was clear that he had succeeded in getting off, for if he were the sergeant's prisoner, they would not affect to look for him. It was an anxious mom e nt. Those who noticed h er agitation, h e r abstraction, and evident pre-occupation, ascribed it a ll to conscious guilt. The Irish girls are world-famed for their good principles and their virtue. To think that Arrah had co11cealed_ a man in her cabin, for nopody knew how long, was t errib le to them. Present ly, Michael Feeny, who had heeded the party of searchers, came down the stairs, holding the M'C o ul's coat in his hand. Beamish had taken off his coat so that h e might be unencumbered, and escl\pe with great facility. He's escaped! He's bate us this time!" cried Feeny. "But to prove to ye all that I'm no story-teller, h e re's his coat! Here's the coat of a man, found in Arrah Meelish's bedroom. Th e M'Coul h ad carelessly thrown his coat down on a chair in the chamber in which Arrah slept, because it was through a window in that particular apart ment he made his escape. Littl e did h e reek of the consequenc e s which this simple act would entail upon poor Arrah Meelish. When the peasants saw the coat, and looked in vain to Arrah for an explanation, they began to mutter and talk openly amongst themselves. "Sergeant,'' exclaimed Micha e l Feeny. "At your service,'' was the gruff reply. "Arrest that woman." "Which?" Arrah Meelish." The bride?" "That was to be. I charge her with bein' an access'ry afther the fact and a participator in the pro ceeds of a robbery." "You dhirty scoundrel !-you lying spalpeen !" cried Shaun-the-Post. "It's thrue; by the piper that played b e fore Moses, it's thrue. Don't let him tou c h me, sergeant dear. I'm on the king's business, and doing the king's work,'' shrieked Feeny, in mortal terror. What has the colleen done to you ? What harm has she done you,'' asked Shaun, that you should come down on her widdin' day, and desthroy her hap piness?" "I'm only doing me duty," replied Michael Feeny. Arrah, darlint ?" continued Shaun, "look up and spake the word which will give him the lie ; spake up, darlint, for yourself and me. He took the coat up there himself, in

/ Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 29 "What's thrue, darlint ?" "That he found the coat in the cabin ." "May I niver die in sin!" ejaculated Shaun, who was completely prostrated by this confession. "Ha! you hear that, all of you?" shouted Michael Feeny. "It's lucky I've come this day. She confesses it; and now I'll have h e r searched by the soldiers, and may be we'll find a thrifle of money in her pocket that she's not come honestly by." "The curse o' Crummle on yer !" cried Shaun ; "bad lucj' to you, I say, Michael Feeny There's not so black-hearted a scoundrel as yourself in the four quarters on the face of the airth q_'he gallows is for y e r, and there are as many curses before you as '.ud blisther a griddle." Michael Feeny turned white with rage at this furious denunciation, but contented himself with holding up the M'Coul's coat, with a gibing sneer. Poor Shaun fell back, and sinking into a chair, cast one beseeching look on Arrah, which seemed to say, "Tell me all, I implore you." But her countenance was stony and impassive, and she gave hi. m no responsive look or sign. Then his heart fell within him, and he buried his face in his hands, and appeared to take no further interest in what was going on. Not so, howev e r. Every word that told against Arrah Meelish-his own loved Arrah sank deeply into his heart like so much molten lead; he wa!! sorely tried, but did not for an instant waver in his sworn l ove By order of the sergeant, two soldiers advanced through the thunder-stricken \ throng for the purpose of searching Arrah, who mad\') no resistance. She was fully determined that if they tortured and wrung h e r heart in every possible way, they should not induce her to betray the M'Coul, and she felt assured that when the trnth was published and fully known to those who were now against her, she would be unanim ously acquitted and praised for her determination. Yet it was hard to be under a cloud on her wedding-day-very hard, Yery hard. The soldiers were not very courteous. They looked upon the Irish as inferior animals. They were called "kernes" in Cromwell's time, and this epithep was applied contemptuously; and a coupfe of centuries later the English did not esteem th e m more highly. They drew the roll of notes from the pocket of her dress-those notes which the M'Coul had given her, and on which the name ofMiehael Feeny was written. On seeing them, Feeny snatched them eagerly from the soldi er hands, and holding them up, said exultantly "I tould you so. Here they are: my notes, my own notes, with Michael Feeny writ on the back of them! Will you belave me now? Take her to prison. So.rra a one of you will hould up your hand to save her." No one moved. "It is my duty to order you under arrest, Arrah Meelish," said the sergeant, coldly. ''Whether you are guilty or not guilty will be duly d e termined by a competent tribunal appointed to try you. You are my prisoner." This was Arrah's wedding-day. Shaun-the-Post rocked hi!llself to and fro, as if in great agitatfon. 1


30 Ariali-na-Pogue, ( Ar1ah-of-the-kiss); CHAPTER X. SHAUN'S SACRIFICE. MrcHAEL FEENE Y th o u g ht th a t a good op portunity for making a little speech had a rri ved and in nalltical langu a g e h e got his jawin g -ta c kle in order, prepara tory to saying" It goes agin the grain wid me to do this, but it's an e xampl e the govem ment want to mak e If th e girl would only spake, and say who gave h e r th e m o n ey shur e and s he'd b e l e t go. I'm only doin' my duty. Y e all know that a b et th er-hearted, or a kind e r man than m ese lf, ui ver bruk the world's bread, th a t is, whe n people d esa rves it at my hand." Th e r e was a faint lau g h at this "Och! po o r sowl, wha t an unraisonable crathur she is," continued Fee ny. He kn e w that these exculpatory speeches would deceiv e no one, without it was the s e rgeant, but th e y came to th e tip of his ton g ue, and it wasn't ofte11 h e had a chance of d e liv e ring his opinion on things in ge n e r a l to his countrymen. The re was a downcast, sly, un easy shuffiing, cringing, slinking expression in his blank, straggling f eatures, whi c h would h ave stamped him as a hypocritical, mean, lying thi ef, in any court of justic e in the kingdom. Embold e n e d by th e tol e ration h e m e t with, th e fellow, who hat e d Shaun be caus e he was the accepte d suitol" of Arrah Mee lish, point e d to th e unhappy man, and cried with a diaboli ca l chuckle" Lo o k at him, h e s showing the ga,rran dane; ('white hors e ,' a t erm of cow adice ;) h e 's desartin' his colours; h e's--" H e brought his rem a rks to an abrupt conclusion, for th e s e rgeant struck him on the back h ea vily with his fist, saying N e v e r insult a man when h e 's down." Th e p easantry applauded this s e ntim ent t o th e ech o Yes, I mean wh at I say,'' continued the se r geant, who was a good-natured as well as a brave man. "I'd m ake any rascal quiver o n a daisy, who dar e d to kick a man in th e gutter. "Powers above," said Michael Feeny. "How folks get caught up and mistaken a lmost b e for e they c a n s a y Jack R o binson." "Hold out your hands,'' cried on e of the soldiers to Arrah. "For what?" "The handcuffs "Stay a moment," said a gentle voice, at the man's e lbow. Arrah Meeli s h look e d up, and was surprised beyond m eas ur e to see Mi ss Pow e r, of Cab intecly, who had pas se d through the c rowd unobse rv ed. Sh e h a d been attracted to Arra h's cabin by a wish to ascertain if what was alleged against h e r by Mi c hael Feeny was matter-of-fac t. Sh e h ad duly recei ved the M'Coul's l ette r, a nd if s h e found that h e h a d been concealed in Arrah's shanty, she d ete rmin e d th a t h e s hould n eve r see h e r again. It would h ave plea se d h e r eve n to see him in Arrah's position, and in th e power of the soldi e rs. H e r jealousy was aroused, a nd s h e deluded h e rs elf with th e b elie f th at h e r love h ad turned to hatr ed. "Of what ar e you accused?" inquir e d Fanny. Arrah mad e n o answ e r. Miss Pow e r looked inquiringly at the soldiers. Th e sergeant approached, s aying"The girl wa s accused, in th e first plac e of harbouring a r e bel, miss." "And was it tru e?" "Yes, indeed it was ; didn't I find his coat?" It is tru e ." Di vil a doubt of it; but he manag e d to effect his escape." Do you deny this, Arrah ?"


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 31 Arrah shook her head. I came with the intention of pl(lading for yo;u, fully Mlieving you to be inno cent," said Fanny Power; "but since 1 fin<;l. you to be so th oroughly undeservin? of sympathy and assistance, I can only say, it is my sincere hope that the mili tary will do thei,r duty, and take care that you are prevented, for some time to come, from exhibiting 7our leaning towards the rebel cause." Fanny Power spoke in the fullness of her heaTt. She thought that Arrah had stolen the M'Coul's love from her, and that, while he was professing affec tion to her, he was merely trifling with her feelings. Arrah was astonished this strong denunciatory langage from one who had always been looked upon as a kind lady, and a good friei;id to the poor, and those who were in misfortune, bowed down and afflicted. "Is it yon, Miss Fanny," she said, "who's agin me?" "Come along, no more trifling;" said the sergeant ; we don't take you as a rebel sympathizer, but for participating in the robbery of the agent, Mr. Michael Feeny." Arrah Meelish 'Simply submitted to her fate. She held out her hands for the cru e l irons. Shaunthe-Post had not moved ; but when he heard the click of the handcuffs, as they closed around Arrah Meelish's wrists, he sprang forwarlf in a spasmodic manner, and speaking with the utmost excitement and rapidity, said" Stay, misther sergeant, the colleen's as inn ocent as June. It was me, Shaun, who Michael Feeny, bad cess to him! and it was me who put the notes in the .darlint'15 dress unbeknown to her. Hold aisy, misther sergeant, and take off those bracelets, bekase tbey seem somehow to be out of place, and l'd sooner the y were put on me who's done it all, and it's not Arrnh Meelish acushla, at all. at a:ll." When he had made this declaration, which incriminated 1hii;nself, he appeared much easier; a load seemed to have fallen from his min,d, and he 'fas even gay; though it was not difficult to see that his j ocularity was forped, and l1is spirits unusual. Take thim words back, Shaun, dear," cried Arrah, in an agohy of terro/. "Shure-_-" She would have said more, but Shaun placed his hand upon her mouth, and stopped utterance. "l'm ready to go," he said, bravely Arrafi sank into a chair completely overcome,. Every one wa:;i surprised; but the sergeant contented himself with doipg his duty. It was no part of his duty to wonder at anything : he formally discharged Arrah from cstody, and taking the irons from her wrists, put them upon Shaun.the-Post, who re ceived them with the'}llacid smile of a fanatic martyr, who, in a sublimated state of mind, himse.lf. raised above the petty rr1iseries of this nether sphere The soldiers placed themselves near Shaun, and the sergeant gave the word of comlnand. They marched away with their pris oner. Fanny Power followed them to the door of the barn, )lluttering to herself, in voice" It is as I feared that poor country girl, 1meliucated; unadorned, ex cept by her simplicity, has captivated the heart of Beamish. Perhaps he tired of his rustic conquest, and gave her the money which I am positive he took from Michael Feeny. 'Tis clear she loves him, whether his affection has waned for her or not. If she were not attached to him, is it likely would preserve a dead and solemn silence, when a few words openly spoken would have in the first place liberated her, and afterwards have taken the fetters from Shaun's wrists 1 It is as clear as daylight, and I will be revenged on the M'Coul, whose p erfidious conduct has aroused my liveliest resentment." Fanny, with all her sagacity, was mistaken; and she afterwards bitterly re-


Arrah-na-Pogue, ( Arrah--0/,the-Kiss) gretted having allowed her resentment to hurry her into the commission of what might have been a fatal blunder. Thinking herself unobserved, she touched the sergeant on the arm, and said, A 'v,ord with you, if you please?" I cannot stop, miss." "It is important; in fact, I want to give some information." "About what-or whom?" "The rebel chief." 0M'Coul ?" The same,'' responqed Fanny Power. She did not remark that a little fellow, called Andy Regan, had stationed hims elf in an angle formed by the wall, and was listening with the most marked attention to all that fell from her lips. He, like the rest of the tenantry, was fondiy attached to the M'Coul, and would have gone through fire and water for him. The utterance of his name was quite enough to make the sharp-witted Andy Regan suspect something. "What of him?" demanded the sergeant, ordering a halt. Do you know the Devil's Glen?" "I do not; Lut I dare say I can get a guide for the value of a tester." "Hasten then; I say no more, except hasten there, if you would see Beamish M'Coul." Having done this Judas-like act she sped swiftly away and hid herself from all eyes but one, beneath the shelter of a grove of trees; though she sped quickly; remorse followed her on the wings of the wind, and she would, five minutes after they had been spoken, have given the world, had it been hers to dispose of, so that she might have recalled the few and wicked words which had given the English sergeant the clue the whereabouts of Beamish M'Coul. Sitting down at the foot ofa spreading beech-tree, she gave vent to an audiole and heart-wrung lament. "Oh! what a miserable girl I am," she said, with a choking sob. "I have destroyed him. Oh! yes; it is I who will have brought him to the gallows. Why could I not control my temper better, if he has deceived me ?-and I may be mistaken." She broke off; the train of thought was too maddening to be thought of and dwelt upon. Before giving information to the sergeant, she had written a heartlessly ci:uel epjst1e to the M'Coul, which a messenger had taken to hiqi.. It now occurred to her, that if she were to hasten. to the Devil's Glen she might reach the tryst ing place before the soldiers, and, anxious to retrieve her error, she attempted the task on foot; but she had not gone far befor'e. the old feeling crept over her, and she once more persuaded herself into a beiief in the M'Coul's affection for Arr ah. This was sufficient to check her impulse for good. She turned round, and, instead of going to the Glen to warn Beamish of the approach of his enemies, she went back slowly to Cabinteely with a vulture of remorse gnawing her ,heart, and causing her the most intolerable anguish.


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 33 CHAPTER XI. 1 .'ID II I f 'llJ THE M1COUL DETERMINES NOT TO BE OUTDONE IN I I ANDY REGAN was as good a runner as could be met with in th e C ount y Wicklow ; and on the present oc c asion h e lost not a mom ent in running at t h e top of his sp ee d to the D e vil's Glen, so that he might warn him of his dang e r and bid him fly ere the soldi e rs w e r e up o n h i m and it w a s too lat e to escap e It was, ind e ed, fortunate for the M'Coul' that Andy R e gan happen e d to o verh e ar Fanny Power's remarks, or th e r e b e l l e ader would infallibly have been captur e d. The D e vil's Glen was a wild and rocky p a ss su c h as are to be frequ e ntly me t with in th e hilly and mountain o us distri c ts o f Ir e land. It was inaccessibl e o n two sid es, a nd a plac e upon whi c h th e soldiers w e r e n o t like to pit c h as th e r e sort of the r e bels. When Andy R e gan came upon th e sce n e h e found th e M Coul s itting up on a large ston e or bould e r, reading a l ette r whi c h a little f e llow of the nam e of Patsy had just brought from Miss Powe r. Patsy was standing demurely by, with his hands in his pock e ts, wat c hin g the expr e ssion of the rebel's features. He gave Andy a friendly nod but did net venture to speak. "If you plais e your honour," b e g a n Andy Regan. The M'C o ul was reading his lette r, and a cloud was on his brow. "Hold y our tongue, sir," he cri ed; can't you see that I am reading, a n d have you no manners t o teac h you that I a m not to b e disturb e d ? "It's my bad manners, your h o nour. I'll hould my tongue,'' repli e d And y Regan. Patsy wink ed, and smiled his d e light at the snubbing whi c h Andy had r e ceived, and lo o k e d at him as if he would say, you so. W.hy didn t yo u follow my example?" 1 The l ette r was curt and to the point. It b e g a n.:_" Miss Power present,s h .ercompliments to the M'Coul, and begs to d e !lline the int e rview he proposes. Th e M Coul may s e ek an explanation of the change in Miss Power's s e ntim e n t s towards him, in r e calling to his mind his ill-concealed friendship-perhaps lo ve isthe correct word-for Arrah Meelish. Miss Power's most ardent wish is that the M Coul's exile may be more honourable than his residence in his native land." 'Ohr !" cried the M'Coul, aloud, in the first burst of grief; at the pain this letter caus e d him-" there's some mistake here. Some enemy has been at work seeking to undermine me in Fanny's estimation. I must clear it all up-a word will do it. Confusion overtake the scoundrel who has been the caus e o f this!" He hid his face in his hands, a nd appeared lost' in thought. Andy R e gan knew his information to be so important that he ventur e d to risk, a p e rsonal C!lstigation by breaking in the meditations of the M'Coul. "Axing pour honour's pardon," he said. W e ll," replied the M'Coul, looking up. I've a word to say.'' 1 Where are you from ?" "Laragh." .1 Ha how goes on the wedding of Shaun-the-Post and ArralY Meelish ?" "Bad enough, your honour." "Bad! How's that?" It's all bi:oke up ; more shame to Michael Feeny !" "Broken up, do you say?" cried the M'Coul, crushing Miss Power's lett e r i n his hand and rising. 1 lj


34 Arralt-na-l!ogite, ( Arrah-of-tlie-Kiss) ; "Yes, your honour. Feeny has got the soldiers to take Arrah-na Porrue for robbin' of him, and then Shaun-the-Post h e gets up and says 'twas him done it a ll, and then they take him and say th ey' ll hang him for stopping of F eeny and aising him of his rints." Th e scoundrel! Shaun is a brave f e llow ; h e must n o t die. This takes m e by surprise, and alters all my plans," said the M'Coul, hurrh: dly. I'v e got more news, sit," s aid Andy; Regan, Out with it, then." "Some one towld th e soldiers that you were in the D evi l's Glen, your honour, and tbey're mar c hing down h ere in double-quick time, f'rom L aragh, and if your honour does not make ha ste and get out of it, the fat 'JI be in the fire, and there will be fine frizzling." S c me one betrayed mer' "Yes, your honour." \Vh o was it?" "I'd rather not be t e lling it." This r eply was dictated by a feeling o f d e licacy whi c h is seldom found in a man in Andy's obscure position in life; but the poor fellow knew that there. was a sort of engagement in existence b et ween Miss Power and the and he did not to hurt his ieader's feelings by t e lling him wh o h a d betrayed him, for that the startling int e llig ence would wound him d,eeply, h e did not for a moment doubt. "Speak !" vociferated the M'Coul. "Well, then, if it plaise your honour, it was Mi ss Powe r." "'Eh?" '"Her of Cabin-teely," added Regan. Th e words were scarcely out of his m out h before a well-direct ed blo"". from t h e M'Coul's fist l eve lled him with the earth. 1 This is not a time to trifle with me," he said, angrily "If you cannot -speak the truth, t e ll me no li es." Andy picked himself up, and look e d l}t his agressor with a ruefu\ visage; his r e d stiff hair was sticking up like re e ds tht:.ough the broken crown of his hat and the blood trickling down his face gave him a d(}plorable appearance. "Shure, and you axed me for it," h e said, in a snivelling tone: "l've oi:ily towld your honour the truth, and l say it agin, and your honour iriay knock me dO\\'n and kill me intirely, but I'll stick to what I've said, b eka is e it'-s 'the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,' as they say in coort ." He took off his old caubeen, and holding it between his hands, scratched his head .in an uneasy manner; then he pulled up the i;ollar of his tattered cotha m ore or great coat, and appeared fully prepared for an o ther assault. The M 'Oo ul was so taken aback a.t the man's persistence and eq uanimity that be f elt inclined to believe the truth of what h e had been saying. J Could it be vVas it possible that a lady like Miss Pow e r, of Cal.iin teel y could be guilty of such an offence against the code of honour or the laws of humanity? Could she have been s@ \vor'k e d uipon by her jealousy as to turn traitress? It was almost yet it was within the bounds of prob ability. Layincr his h a nd upon Andy Regan's shoulder, h e said Pray forgive me, m y good fellow. I was hasty and did not e,xaotly like to believe you, though I was probably mistaken." "That you were, ybu;r honour. Don't say no more," replied Andy Regan, earrerly; "but to stay h ere another five be aquil to yoUJ; death. soldiers, curse them, will be h e r e Do go, Misth e r Beamish darlint. Sorra a bhoy in Wicklow but you." The M'C oul was toC1ched a't this display of affection, and forgiveness of in juries recei.ed, which Andy displayed, a nd taking his he said-


Or, Tlie Wicklow Weddilig. "I am ready; do you be .my g uid e 11nd lead the w,ay." Andy needed no furth er bidding, but set off at a quick run, the M'Coul keepjng pace with him the while, and the rea r was brought up by Patsy. Th ey soon disappeared und e r the brow of a bill, and they were not a mom ent too quick in their movem ents, for in a short time the sergeant and his m e n, who had brought ti).eir prisoner with them so that no time might be lo st, and hoping that they might be able to lodge two captives instead of one in the dungeons of Bally b etag h Castle. Whe n they reached the glen. the soldiers, much to n:iortHication and dis gust, found the coast clear, and knew that they h ad had their journ ey for nqthing. 1 Th e M'Caul wa;; strangely agitated. First -0f all, h e had l ost Fanny Power's love, but that, on, consideration, !'lid not trouble him wuch, for he knew that he would be aple t o r ega\ n it when all was exp la ined. What reaily did troubJ e him was the terribl e dilemma into which the unh appy Shaun had tumbled by no f ault of his own. H e determined to bo,rrow a horse from a ten an t of his a nd at once ride to Dublin, solicit the pardon of Shaun from the fountain-head, that i s, the Secretary of himsel(, and to declare the postman innqcent, and say that h e hims elf alone was to bl ame for the r obbery o f Michael Feeny, which affair, with its numerous unexpepted ramifications of a disastrous had bE;1Bn attended with such sad result$ w as an cletermi11ation an

36 Arrah-na-Pogue, ( Arrah-of-the-Kiss); "Shaun-the-Post!" cr.ied the O'Grady. Yes, that's the one." I'm sorry for that; upon my honour and word l'm sorry for that. What could have induc e d him to b e guilty of so stupid an offence? The rascal might have known that if he was in want of money to stock his cabin I would have l ent him a little to start with and make his colleen happy. Poor Arrah Mee lish, this will be a heavy blow to h e r. What, major, do you intend doing with him?" "I shall try him by' court-martial to-m'.orrow "Eh! what?" "You know," said Major Coffin, the county is placed und e r martial law, therefore it is competent for me to summon a court to try this man-this Shaun-the-Post, and if found guilty, as I hav e no doubt he will be, I shall order him for immediate execu tion, so that summary justice of that sort may intimi date and strike terror foto the minds of all those who are either rebels de facto or e ls e disloyal in their hearts, and I am afraid very many are so." "You ca nnot be in earnest," said the O'Grady, who turn e d v ery pale. "Never more so in my life." The O'Grady put his hands behind his back, and walked uneasily up and down the room. "I was sent h e re," continued the Englishman, "in order that I might check the angry passions of the misguided people of the county Wic klow, and p'ut down a rebellion whi c h at one time had 'assumed a tangible, if not a formidabl e appearance. Pleas e God I will execute the trust confided to me to the satisfac tion of my most gracious sovereign." "But, my d ea r sir, just hav e the goodness to r eflect." "I h ave r e flected." "In that case, you must be aware that the crime with which this man stands c harg ed is, in r ea lity, a very venial one." Not at all." "It was his wedding-day, too." "That makes no difference. He should have thought of all that befor e h e was indiscreet enough to place the h alter around his own neck; and it shall assuredly not be my fault if the noose is not drawn tighter." The O'Grady stopped abruptly in front of the officer, and eyeing him narrow1y, said, in a quick, sulky tone of voice Major!" "Well." "You call yourself a gentleman?" "I do." "And you fancy yourself imbu ed with all the attributes of Christian charity?" "I hope so." "And yet you have the superhuman hardihood to decree this man's death?" "I hav e no option," said Major Coffin, resolutely. Excuse me, you have." "In what way?" "Send him to the sessions. You are not strictly and absolutely commanded to try him by court martial. You can, if you like, exercise the discretionary power with which you are invested, and send him to be tri e d by a jury of his own countrymen, which is gh T ing him a chance." '"Yes, and more. is as good as letting him off altogether," the major; "and so you know, my kind and charitable colonel, what1the feimlt of such mistaken m e rcy would be. If not, I shall b e glad to tell you." The O'Grady bow ed. "The effect would be, an increase of strength in the insurrectionary move-


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 37 ment, more robberie:>, more murders. I could give you a catalogue of ills which would crop up like noxious weeds under the fostering influence of this sun of mercy." -"Never mind, throw all that on one side, anC: spare this man's life; I ask it of you as a personal favour." "Impossible !" "I, the O'Grady, ask you." "My dea1 colonel, believe me nothing would give me greater pleasure than to oblige you in any one thing, did not my duty imperatively forbid me. "Sinee I have been in this country, to which I came a stranger in the land, l have been chiefly indebted to you for your kindness and hospitality. You threw your shield around me, and I have been safe under its protecting cover ing-anything but that, do not ask me that." "It is all I want, and you refuse me!" said the O'Grady, deeply mortified. "I must be resolute in this matter, I must indeed, my dear Colonel," replied Major Coffin. I hope the death of Shaun-the-Post will have a salutary effect upon the people of Wicklow. It will let them know that we are in earnest, which is al ways a great thing gained. Good morning! I shall see you again later in the day. You must excuse me now, for I wish to give orders relative to the court martial." Colonel Bagenal O'Grady gave vent to a groan, a deep full, bodied groan. which came from his heart. "The curse of Cromwell is still upon us," Jrn muttered. "What's the use of killing this poor fellow, and on his wedding-day, too? The worst use you can put a man to is to hang him. Confound it all It's a cry!ng shame, I say. If the English ,vi&h us to love them, and become reconciled to the union, they must take different means, and leave off hanging us. Bah I've no patience to think of it. If they begin with the peasantry, I suppose they will go on with the gen tleman. Fancy the M'Coul dangling at his own door, with his neck broken; a pretty, pretty-i'faith, a very pretty picture." "What's that you're saying, Colonel!" exclaimed a voice at hi1:1 elbow. Turning round sharply, as if on a pivot, the O'Grady's pleased eyes lighted on Miss Power, of Cabin-teely. I hardly know what I was saying, Miss Fanny," he exclaimed; but the fact is, Irela.nd's going to the dogs. The English are hunting us duwn and hang ingus till it would be a kindness to sink Ireland in the bosom of the Atlnatic for a couple of days. Oh! don't say that. \Vhat would become of me?" said Fanny Power, with a light laugh "Pardon me for the thought; I was at the time oblivious of your welfare, and even of your existence." "Though I was standing by you How is it an Irshman's thoughts will get jumbled together and confuse themselves?" The O'Grady did not attempt to solve this kr.otty problem, but stood before Fanny, gazing at her undeniable beauty, with all the sheepishness of a boy lover. "l have come, O'Grady, to ask you a favour as usual." "A favour of what description." "You have heard of the arrest of Shaun for the commission of a crime of which I do not believe him to be guilty. Now, colonel, I want to ask you to interest yourself on this poor man's behalf, and get him off." "I firmly believe that you are interested in the whole male portion of the human race, Miss Fanny," said the O'Grady, smiling in his turn. Fanny blushed slightly. "First," continued the O'Grady, "it is the M'Coul, and when that rash individual has his sins against government forgiven him, it is Shaun-the-Post." I


38 Arrah-na-Po9ue, ( Arrah-of-the-Kiss) ; "But you will s ave him, will you not?" "The man isn't condemned yet. I sha ll sit on the court-martia l by virtue of m y military Tank, and h e won't be condemned if I can h e lp it. 1 You know what a regard .t hav e for you, and you cannot be ignorant of th e .:_th e affect ion, d ea r O'Grady, whi c h I hav e for some time silently ente rtained for you." "Do yo u mean that?" said the O'Grady, enrapt ured D o I? How can you as k?" "Say it again. It w as lik e h oney in a flower to an industrioi::s bee. I-I! 'Pon my word, Miss Fanny, ] think you'll make a fool of me in my old age." A shadow came over Fanny Pow ei's face, flitting fr om feature to feature, until the whole became clouded, f "Oh! Beamish, o nce dearly lo ved, alm ost adored," she said, half aloud, "farewe ll, farewell for ever I bid you a l ong and adieu. I am to transfer my allegiance to another, and you a l one are the cause of my in fide lity. "Eh! What-wnat's that you're saying?" exclaimed the O'Grady. Recovering from the transi ent fit of sentimentalism into which slie had fall e n, Miss Power said, ha sti ly, "Nothing, my dear O'Grady; merely a monody on th e d eath-I mean, the birth of love." I thought I h eard yo u say something about t h e M 'Coul, and you knm\>, or perhap s you don't kn ow, t hat the peasantry ha ve been b o ld enough to take your nam e in vain wh e n they should h ave kn own though it is an un doubt ed fact that they coupled your n ames together.." Mischievo11s peopl e ," responded Fanny; "but of course you, my dear colonel, h ad sufficient sagacity and p e n e trntion to t ell t hat there was not an atom of truth in the report." "Upon my honour and word, at time I did know what to think." "And yet you obtained a pardon for a i:nan whom you were induc ed to l ook upon as your rival?" Oh, yes, that's true enoug h I did that certainlx," replied the O'Grady a little confused. "But then you know 11e wa!! a Wickh1w gentleman, a fri en d of my own, out o f lu c k, and l as t of all, you asked me to get him pardon. I love you and I can' t h e lp loving you ; so of course i t's my duty to do anything you niay ask me, even if you d o lik e some one else better than you d o myself." "You me a dear, good, ge n erous fellow,'' cried Fanny Power, who was much affect ed at this ev id e nce of the O'Grady's single-minded affection for h er Oh she murmur ed, if th e treacherous M 'Cou l had only l oved me as this man loves me, how happy w e might hav e be e n tog e th er !" "YOU sigh?" f Alas yes." ,, "For whom?" "For-for my count))y." "May every fragm ent o f my anatomy b e shattered I und e rstand all this said the O'Grady, who was beginning to grow puzzl ed. "' The fact is that it did not take muc h to puzzle the own e r ofBallybetagh. His honest h ead soon b ecame entang l ed in a l abyrint h of ideas, and h e was altOgether l ost Fanny Power wanted to r eve ng e h e rs elf upon the M'Coul1 and she was more than half inclined to contract a hasty marriage with the O'Grady, but womanlike she could not make up her mind. A fear came upon h e r tliat she might in some way be mistaken, and that by marrying in ha s te sh e would repeht at l e isur e "Ho1v frig htful," she said to h e rself, would it be to marry a man in pas sicn, and to find afterwards that there was nothing congenial in your tastes, that worst of all-grand climacteric-you l'oved a nother and kept his image e nshrin ed in your heart, while you were compelled. by the force of th e marriage vow to


Or, IJ.'he Wic.How Wedding. 39 pay homag e with your uuw' illing lips to the 1nan whom you h ad made y o u r h11sb tad in a moment of jealous frenzy." "Oh! Adam," cried the O'Grady, "Why did nob ycu die with all your ri bs in yJur body r "You will save Shaun ?" said Yes, if he's cond emne d." "Thanks for thg,t promise, the faithful fulfilment of whi c h I shall scrupulou s ly exac;t." S() saying, Miss Power tripped lightly away, l eav ing the 01Grady alone CHAPTER XIII. now THE M'COUL SPED IN DUBLIN. BEAMistt M'OouL urged his horse to its uttnost speed, and succeeded in r eac hing Dublin sooner than h e had expected. Th ere was r eason why h e should make h aste ; because, were he to lag 01' tarry on th e road, Shaun-th e Post would very probably be tried, condemned, and executed. Certainly Shaun's b e h av i o ur was magnificent; his h ero ism was fully equa l to that o f Arrah; s h e h :id sac rificed h erself to saYe the M'Coul, Shaun sacrificed him s elf to save his betrothed. It was very sad and p/\inful that these young people should be separated a s they h!!.d betm on th e eve of their marriage. They w e re young, and fondly love d on e another, with all the enthusiastic adoration of adolescenl!c. Th e Secretary of State was in hi s private r oorh at the Castle in Dublin. H e was e ng ag e d in reading a r ep01t which had just been brought him by a mess en ger fr om Wicklow. This report had been writt e n by Major Coffin, and contained an account of Shaun's arrest, stating that in all lik e lihood the summary exec ution of Shaun would put an end to the disturbances whi c h for some time had convulsed th e countr y Sudde nl y the secretary's valet, whose n ame was Wjnterbottom, ente red a n d said," If it please your excellency there is a gentleman down stairs who wis hes to seo you "A gentleman ?" "Yes, your excellency." How d o you know h e's a gentleman?" "He gave me five pounds, sir." "H'm! That is your test of gentility, e h?" "Shall I s how him up, your excellency ?" "Yes," was the curt reply. In another minute the M'Coul was standing in the presence of 'the S ec1etary, w n o waiteB. for him to speak, announce him self, and ex-plain his business. "I have called upon your excellency," sa id the M'Coul, folding his arms across his breast with nobl e resignation, "for the express purpose of giving mysel( up into the hands of justice. "Your motive for this strange act?" "ls. my determination to save the life of an innocent man." "Who is h e?" "One Shaun-the-Post, a humble Wicklow man." "Pray may I inquire your name and standing in society?" "I !I-ID B eam ish M'Coul," replied the reb!'ll, with a comp lac ent smil'e : "Ah! I know you, sir, by repute," said the Secretary, "though this is tl1P firs t time that I have had th e pl eas ure of seeing you. I am acq_uainted-with th e


40 Arrah-na-Pogu.e, (Arrah-of-the-Kiss); facts of the case relating to Shaun-the-Post, for I have Major Coffin's report in my hand. It would appear that Shaun stopped one Michael Feeny and robbed him." "I stopped him!" exclaimed the M'({oul. "Pardon the interruption It was I who waylaid Michael Feeny and took away the money he had in his pocket; and, after all, what was that 1 Scarcely an offence; for the mon ey was my own." "No,'' said the Secretary, "not your own, Beamish. It was confiscated by me, and therefore the property of the Government." "Well, my lord, I am not here to argue the point with you," crie4 the M'Coul. "I am in your power. I have made a voluntary confession, and I h ope you will at once despatch a courier on one of your fleet es t hors es to Bally betagh, or Shaun-the-Post will have been hanged, and my confession of no avail whatever." "Have you any further r eq uest to make?" "Yes, one." And that is--" "Simply this. Ifmy death is decided upon, I beg the favour of a file of men, a nd half a dozen bullets. The M'Couls are an old family, and it is not recorded that any of them were hanged. I should not lik e to set an ignoble fashion." This speech w,as delivered with a bitter smile. The Secretary of State thought for a moment, and then exclaimed with a look of ingenuous candour" Mr. M'Coul. I am the represe ntative in this country of His Majesty's gov ern ment. Owi ng to a representation made to me by Cplonel Bagenal O'Grady, some little time back, I granted you a par:don, on condition that you were not mixed up in any fresh distu,rbances. Y q u have be en; but your noble conduct in dooming yourself to death to save Shaun, has so far predisposed me in your favour, that I consent to renew the pardon, and by a scratch of the pen, to make you in less than five minutes a free man." "God bless you !" replied This clemency is more than I had any right to hope for." The Secretary took up a pen and began to write. Presently h e handed two documents to the M'Coul. "This is a pardon for yourself," he said. "That is a pardon for Sh aun-thePost." But the courier?" demanded B ea mish, whose hand trembl ed with gener ous eagerness. You shall be your own courier. Go to my stables and take the fleet es t horse yon can find." Th e M'Coul grasped the Secretary of State by the hand, heartily expressed his thanks, and ran down stairs with the precious documents in his hand upset ting the impulsive Winterbottom in his impetuous progress. He had been some hours in the saddle, but he did hesitate to start again on the homeward trail, after paTtaking of some refreshment. When he reached Ballybetah, he found a number of people outside the gates. They were the early ones who had assembled to witness the execution, for Shaun-the-Post had been tried and found guilty, and condemned to 'Qe h a nged in front of the castle. r "It would be difficult to express the joy of Shaun-the-Post and Arrah Meelish when the good news of the double pard01:i reached them. 1 Fanny Power forgave the M'Coul for the imaginary fault whic]t she h1,1d imput ed to him, and, instead of a pouble execution, there was a double marriage, for Shaun-the.Post espoused to Arrah-na-Pogue, and Fanny Power became Mrs. B ea mish M'Coul. 'Th us happily ended a romance in real life, which might have resulted in a lfea1;fo:l tragedy.


Or, The Wicklou: Wedding. CARRICKSHOCK; 0 R, A P LE A S A NT EX CUR SI 0 N "HARRY, my boy, you have never been in the county of vVaterford ?" "Never!" 41 "Well, then," rejoined my gallant r e lative, Major Vokes, "you have now a good opportunity. I have some little business to transact th ere, so I've ordered my travelling carriage at six in tbe morning. We shan't be more th an two days absent, therefore don't; bring mu c h luggage. The weather is remarkably fine, so w e shall have a very pleasant trip;" and away went my excellent friend, whrstling a cheerful air. Now, although Vokes took my assent for granted, I felt somewhat doubtful about accepting it. That I had often expressed a wish to see the county into which he was going, I fully admit, and for this single reason, I suppose, he felt certain th at I should sr.ap at his proposal. But on the h a nd, though I fully intend ed to see Curraghmore, yet I was by no means desirous of b ecom ing the travelling companion of a man against whom a thousand oaths of assassina tion had be e n recordeP,; and as we were about to traverse Tipperary, a notoriously ill-disposed county, and going to a spot-.hardfy fiftfe n or tw enty miles from the scene of the most savage butchery that ever disgraced the annals of Ireland, namely, the murder of nineteen polic e m en and their officers, which had only taken place at Carricksho c k the wee k before, I seriously hesitat ed about accompanying Vokes. So far from it, I should (in any other case) have not only given it up myself, but have endeavoured to dissuade the worthy magistrate from his contemplated journey. I well knew, however, in his case, that the more vividly I portrayed the danger, the more delighted he would feel in courting it; so I my tongue, and after dinner allowed mys elf to be persuaded, partly by. coaxfog and partly by the f ear of being laughed at, into joining my friend. We accordingly started the following morning ; and after trav ersing the wretched pog which stretches itself betweer, Limerick and Tipp erary, a1: rived in safety at the latter town without meeting with any occurre1we worth ,noticing. r Vokes ordered a substantial breakfast, and appeared in high spirits. Hf,l did not, however, tell me the object of his mission, and I refrained from inquiring. That it was a pleasing one I drew an inference from hii> cheerful manner, and I already began to laugh at my foolish fears. The meal over, we descended, and to my utter surprise I found two horses, ready saddlei;l, standing at the door. 1 The carriage had returned to Limerick ; we were to complete our journey on horseback. I should pr,obiibly })ave asked some questions, but V ok,es enforced silenc e on me by a look, so we mounted and trotted off on the road t9 Nenagh, which my friend readily fom1d, from the directions afforded to him py the ostler of the hotel, 1 a most respectable-looking young man. We had scarcely, how ever, proceeded abo'Ve thr. ee miles, when Vokes trned, without any apparent reason, down a cross-road, and rather increased his speed. "What are you about 1 Where are you going?" cried I. "Why, to Waterford, to be sure !" "Why, I fancied yoq had changed your mind, and had intend ed to go to Nenagh-at least, so you said." ; The Major out laughing. Harry, I didn't think you w e r e so soft. W,hy, couldn't you see, with half an eye, that the ostler was a bad boy-a spy -30 I threw him off the scent, by coming round this way. "By this time thel'e's more than one carbine loaded to shoot me on that road. )


t 42 Arrah-na-.Pogue, ( Armh-of, the-Ki ss) ; D on't be flust e r e d there's no danger h ere Yonder is main road, and Sergean t Magrath waiting for us." W e were now j o ined by that active policeman, \vho was well mounted, and admirably dress ed as a groom. H e had, h o w e v e r, a pair of holsters; out Of which a brace of pistols appeared; but as many country g e ntl e m e n in th ose days ,carried when riding thr o ugh the disturbed districts, this fact did not b e tray the sergeant's calling. Whe n w e came to a certain spot, just beyond the thick woods of Banshea, Vok es paus e d : "The r e's Lismackew; just in cor!ler poor Baker was murdned, in the middle of the day." I confess this little statement, and a subse quent detail of the assassination, with which my friend favoured me as we rode along, did not add mu c h to my comfort, and I b ega n to wish I had remained within the Barracks at Limerick, where I was this time quairtered Prese ntly, a carriage dashed passed us, surrounded by police. These men I recognised as b longing to Vokes's especia l force; they, however, tooknohotice of him, but galloped Mvay in eager haste. f "Bless me, Major! what does that "Oh, it's Quin, the approver; they are taking him to Kilkenny, to give evi dence against Kennedy-, the chief murderer at Carrickshock, who will be ti'ied the drty aftel: to-morrow." "But i5 this witirnss so unwilling as to r e quire this guard ?" "13y no m ea ns. My men surround the caITiage to protect him; and even to do that they would not be able, if they had not r e lays of horses to en11ble them t o gallop aU the way,. Th ey go through no towns, and they travel too fast to be overtaken." "But why?" "Harry my boy, as green as any Englishman I ever met. Don't you see, that if they could be caught, soon be surrounded, and tlle approver dragg e d out and torn to pieces." I shuddered, rode on to Clonmel without uttering another word. Here we remained for several hours, Vokes evidently wishing to arrive late at Pill town (the Cleanest and Ireland), which be no_w' to t ell me was to be our ultimate destmat10n ; and wlkre, acoo1'drng to hJ,s settled plan, w e alighted a t Anthony's snug hotel, about nine o'qlock the W e supped, and went to bed. 1 The room in which I slept was, however, unfortunately', near the stable, and I was awakened more than once by heaTing the voices of several pel'Sons con-versing in a foreign language. This, th'ough an annoyance, but did not utterly destroy my slunhiets; I was thoroughly tired; and I did not rise till nine ?'clock next morning. Voke s was seated at the breakfast-table whe11 I e ntered. He had evidently rec"eived and despatch e d s evera l letters before I came d6wn. He was sending off a mounted policeh1an' as I opened the door. Aftet our meal, Vokes proposed a stroll tlirough i the village, at the same time exp'.ressing his int e ntion to call ori some of the cottagers, whom he well knew, as he had resided, for some time after his marriage, at '.BelHne, a very handS'ome mansion in the neighbourhood, inhabited by the brother of his wife, then acting as agen t to th e Earl of Bes borough, but \'vho was nO\V abroad r We e nter e d a very pretty cottage, and,. to my surprise, I found the interior as clea n an:d' rleat as' any similar establishment 'England. It appeared that the noble landford insisted qn this-he might spare a man who could not J?ay his rent-indeed,. he often did so. But he inexorably evicted a dirty or a drunken tenant, and thus made Pilltown the prettiest and best village ih. the South of Ireland. -, The old woman \vhom we called to s e e was almost blind, but she instantly recognised Vokes, and to him she r elated her griefs.


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 43 H e r g r ands on \a policeman) had be e n killed at Carrickshock, i\nd she now hoped '' the Major' would get her a p e nsion from Gov er11ment. Sh e e vid e ntly b e li e v e d h e was all-powerful; and I fancy she was not very far wrong in h e r conjectur e In th e house we found t'vo handsome girls. They had simil a rly lost th e ir tatll.e r, and th e magistrate elicited important information from th eir l o qua c ity. I now b e gan to observe that i;ny friend was anxious to ascertain th e d e t a ils of the affair, for in every cottage \rn visited he managed artfully t o d e rive some information on th e sqbj e ct. On two occasions the doors, as we apr o a c h ed, w e re slamm e d in our faces, and I could not help remarking that we did meet a sino:le mal e during the whole time we wer e out. On th e s e points I questioned the Major; who explained to me that th e owne rs of th e two r e sid e nces, where had been exclud ed, had both fall e n at Carri ck shock; but as the y belonged to the murd e ring pai:ty, th e irfelativ e s refused him admission-looking upon him as a dang e rous monst e r. I express e d my wond e r that they should thus be acquainted with his arrival. "My d ear f e llow, we had not gone to b e d last night, when soul for t e n miles round was aware that we were h e re, and it's precisely for that r e ason all the m e n are out of the way. To-m6rrow or n e xt day we shall probably see th e m back." This was by no means rea!;\ ; and th ough J said nothing, I f elt v e x e d at the id e a of' r e maining in Pilltown f9r s e veral day s longer, whic h was e vid e ntly V okes's inte ntion. During dinner, my friend explained the affair, which he was evid e ntly inves tigating. It appears that about a w eek only b e fore the then pres ent tim e a party of ninete e n policemen, commanded by a chief constable, went out aft e r dark, iu order to seize some arm&, which they expect e d to find at a certain farm-h ouse The s e m e n were dressed in uniform, and armed as soldiers, and fine effic i ent s oldiers the y were. They each carri e d a musk e t, a bayonet, and thirty pound s of ball cartridg e ; their officer was mounted on hor&eback-so of course th e y anti cipated no d a nger, even in a country whe re every man (at least it was so in those ti mes) looked upon a policeman as his bitterest enemy. The party, b e ing disappointed in th e ir s e arch, were returning home towartls nightfall, and had arriv e d at a spot on th e mountains called Carri c k shocl<, wh e n they wer e met by a countryman, who volunteer e d to teH thein wh e r e the arms th e y w ere in s e arch of lay hid. The chi e f c o nstable fell into the trap, and ord e r e d his m e n t d turn down a lane, at the end of which the peasant stated the weapons were buried (as is often the cas e ), and to which spot he would guide the m. So down the y marched, the commander g o ing first, and beside him a civil offic e r, who had take n advantage of strength of the party to serve some n otices of eviction, under the shield of' their protection. The lane did not exc eed a couple of hundred yards in length, it was narr9w, and a high bank on e ith e r side. It was what is generally styled a "borheen1 in the South of Ireland, and admirably fitted for an ambuscade. Suddenly the guide a loud whistl e and disappeard. In an instant the noti c e-server fell dea d ; while on eith e r b a nk app e ar e d a larg e party of men and women. B efore thel polic e men had .time to com e to the "prese nt," a volley had be e n fired into them which told with fatal effect. Th e y fir ed, but it was too late, the crowd had now ru.,hed and h emme d the m in. The chief constable was one of the first killed, and before five minutes had elaps ed, e very policeman lay d e ad or wound e d on the ground. Th e former w ere mutilat e d, and dragg e d ab o ut with y ells o f triumph. Th e wound e d were pierced with innumerable wounds. The arms >Vere seized with avidity, and then the murderers (of whom only


44 Arrah-na-Pogue, ( 4rrah-of-the-Kiss) three, I believe were killed) marched off, glorying in the act, and Even singing songs o f delight. They l eft b e hind them the bodies of the civil process-server the chief constable, and nineteen fine young men, several of whom were natives of this town. I naturally inquir e d ifthe assassins had been seized, as they must be known. "Known? to be sure the y are; but what's the use of taking th em up, when no one will give evidence against them? 0, yes, you may b e astonished, but such is the state of Ire land. The man's lif e who identifi ed one of the murderers would n ot b e worth half-an-hour's purchase. So goverment has only got hold of one of th em a cer tain K ennedy ; but although the is clear against him, although it will be as clear as light, you will see that the jury will not dare to convict him. Ev.-n at this instant h e is standing before them. But eno ugh of this; l et' s go and take a ride. Here, waiter order our horses out, and r eq uest the landlord to come up." Mr. Anthony appeared: Anthony, I am going to take this your.g Englishman t o see B e lline, we'll 1 take a gallop through the Park, and be back in two hours. We shall gain ap petite by our rid e and would like sometliing nice for supper. "It is not eight o'clock, we should like to hav e it served at ten. Can you get us some trout? and mirid there's a cucumber: you know how fond I am of it and if it's not too late for p eas l et us have some." The landlord (a most respectabl e man) promised all this should be attended to, and we descended and jump ed on h orse back. I abserved that' wc had military saddles, a nd that holst e rs were attac h ed for each. After the narrative I had just heard, I cop.fess I was not astonished at this; nor was I so, when I subseqnently fo\md that Serg eant Margrath a sword on, und e r his hors eman's cloak. We rod e dir ect thr. ough the grounds at B e lline, and then w ent on to a road which l ed abruptly up the mountains. Th ere was a wooded angle which hid the onward course of .this mountain pass. Vokes walked his horse round it ; but no sooner were we out of sight of the main route, then he utter e d exclamation in Irish, and galloped 011. The ser geant did the same, and of course I accompanied them. "Ride faster, man, ride faster, we shall be missed ; ke e p up, S ergeant!" But why this haste?" You ride for your life; if th ey overtake 1.1S, weare dead men ; and eve n as it is, there may be parties out looking for us Ride on, man-don't spare the spur!" And thus we galloped on over six miles of th e most hilly road I eve r met with. Vokes now pulled up. .'Harry, my boy, I think we've distanced them, so now walk your horse a little, for we have a long ride before us." "My good and respected relative, are you gone mad, or what does all this mean?" "Simply thi s I clearly heard the voices in the stables of which you spoke this morning." "Why, you denied it." "Yes; fearful of alarming yon.. The fact they ass e mbl e d last night for the purpose of destroying me. Bu t as they thought it might pre judice Kennedy's trial, th ey put it off till to-night. At eleven o'clock they are to shoot us as we sit at supper. The Serg eant is to have his brains knocked out. In fact, every arrangement is made. Let me see, I find by my repeat e r it is past ten; they are now beginning to assemble, and wm soot} miss us; so we have no time to spare." "But how is it they were so incautious as thus to proclaim their "They spoke in Irish, a language I happen to understand. So there can be no mistake about it."


Or, The Wicklow Weddi1tg 45 Had we not better hurry on ?" "No, no. We are going up a terrifically bad road, let us go as easy as we can, till eleven, and then, as they will have discovered our flight, we must ride as fast as our nags 'can carry us." At this moment the moon burst forth, and we saw a ragged, barefooted urchin, close to us; as is usual in Ireland, he at once joined the party,, and entered into conversation. I Vokes whispered to me to be cautious. This I thought a ridiculous hint, but still I attended to it, though his "' CA VE CANEM" appeared uncalled for in the present instance. .. "What is the name of the town yonder, Pat?" asked Vokes, who at once assumed an kish accent j '' Where, yer Honour?" "Ah, now, can't you answer without making a bosthoon of yourself? Sure I'm a stranger, and want to know." "I'm' thinking it's NewmarKet 1s it through that towri yer'e Honour's about passing ?"-At this moment the Sergeant's sword clanked. The Major uttered an exclamation of annoyance. The boy, however, aid not appear to notice the sound, and went on ta.Iking. We now came to a wind on the road; round this we had to pass, in order to arrive at Newmarket, which made the distance considetably above a mile, though, by cutting across the valley, the village might be reached in three hundred yards "Where's the boy?" suddenly' cried the magistrate. We lboked round-he was gone; but in less a minute we heard three distinct notes whistled from the centre of the valley. Ride, ride on, your time!" And away we dashed at full gallop. As we came fa sight of. the village, we saw a. fine fire blazing .in the smithy, and lights in almost every window ; but as we ap proached, the smith's shop was suddenly closed, shutters were put up and every light extinguished. It was evident we were betrayed. "Keep up, Harry-that's all riglit !" and we dashed at racing pace through the town. We had .just cleared it, when a shbt was fired. The ball went through the S er geant's cloak, but did not inju re any of us. When we proceeded about a mile, the.Major pulled up. There, that will do; we're safe now ; there is no fear of their following. There are not half-a-dozen men in the village, or they'd not have let us off so easy Depend upon it they are all gone to Kilkenny, to hear their comrade tried Vokes was singularly gifted w ith perspicuity. r He calculated every chan'ce, and drew inferences from apparent trifles. It was thus he sifted evidenee, and seemed almost to foresee occurrences which to any other mind appeared unimportant and improbable. we had not gone far, when v okes suddenly turned down a lane; as a matter of course, I did the same : the Major, to my surprise, jumped off his horse, and beckoned Magrath to do the like; then leading their horses up to me, he asked me as a favour to hold them for a few minutes ; of course, I assented. In another moment the magistrate and the policeman were searching about for something which they appeared to have dropped. They examined about, and seemed occasionally to pick up something out of the mud. At length Vokes suddenly called out to his Sergeant, I've found it -I've got it here-this will complete the evidence. 'If it fits his hand, it will at once convict l)im Oh, I'm so glad I've discovered it !" At this moment the moon burst through the clouds, and I glanced with hor. ror at the object which Vokes held up with triumph. It was a 'human finger, or rather half of' one, evidently severed from the hand by a abre cut. "1What have you got?" demanded the Major. "I've a portion of skull with human hair


46 Arrah_'l}.a-Pogue, ( Arrqhof-the-l(iss); attached to it; I've the stock of a broken pistol, and a knife rl)sted w .itb. hiiman blood,'' s;lid th e "Providence preserve us!" I. vVhere are w e 1" "In the Borheen of Carrickshock. Don't yo1,1 see the l:)apk all broken where the stn,1ggle took place? This dyk e ran with lrnman blood onl y a few clays ago." "Do let us go on; I don't Jike this place-it JUakes me shudder,'' said I. "We ll, as you like; I've got all T want. Here, Mick, take this finger; we'll fit it on Teddy Malony whei;i. we return; you may throw away the skull; but bring the knife along witl;J. you. Coll).e, we'tl w&i m ourselves with a sharp trot. W e are only about eight miles from Kilkenny, where we shall sleep. Allons !" and away we rode. We wer e within four miles of the city, when we hea11d loud shouts, mingled with occasional shots ; an extraord inary glare of light was apparent in the dis tanc e and we drew O\lr r eins, and reduced our p.ace to a walk, wondering what it coul cl b e Even the M ajor was puzzled for a fe,\ minutes; at l ength he divined the cause. "I'll stake my h ead, Kennedy has been acquitted, and th ey are escorting him home in triumph ." Another ten Plbwt e s brought us in foll view of the party, and, at the first glance, we r e ad the co.rreetness of Yokos's suppos iti on Shouting, singing, ftring, l).;ncl brandishing lighted we beheld a body of at l east five hundred m'en approaching. inf\amed by pa:ssion, they were screm:ning forth alternately blesslngs 011 Kennedy, and curses on every constituted authority Jn the middle sat thi;i released murderer, who (ma11y believed) had escaped his just d oom, in consequence of the fears of the j1n: ymen. He was seated on a small mountah1 p0ny, and was supported en either .side 'by female friends, being wholly m ; 1 equa.l to sit upright;, in cons eq uence of the libations he had indulged in ; yet his fair partners still kept plying hi)ll with liquor. An Iri s h bagpjper au,d a wretch e d ficl

Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 47 He and I succeeded in de>ing so without attracting any attention; but, un fortunately, the Sergeant's sword was loose in its SC!l>bbard, and, as his horse sprana over ; it gave a loud "clank." crowd at onoe recognised the well-known sound ; for an instant, shouted, the ARMY ;" in the next, th e y cri e d out, the "PEELERS." They turned round, and saw 'by the bright moonlight. Half-a-dozen sh o ts were fired by them in as many se.conds; but they were far too in,toxicated to take good aim, S\) none of ehe balls. or shot touched us, A party instantly quitited the mam body, .and started rn pursmt of us-a fa c t by no means pleasant, as these men, when sober, can run for a short}l almost as quick as a horse can gallop. "On! on !" roared the Major; aud again we started at our utmost speed, and soon left our pursuers behind us. [n Jnore, I i;at a.t supper, in Kilkei : my, with my daring relative, who J:i-ughe d at my and endew 0 ured t9 jlssure me that it was nothuig at all!" "It may b e," said I, as I drank his health in a glass of old sh erry; "it may be But if ever you catch me 011 such an ever 'I accompany you on such a perilous trip-may St. Patrick withdraw his protectio11 (roll} Erin !" SIFTING EVIDENCE. AN old couple had been murdered in them oeds, {lnd cottage i n which they resided had been iburnt to the ground by the murderers,. The whole country heard with horror and dismQ.y 0 commission of phis most flagrant crime; aware that it could alone have bee.u affected by a 1 1 um e rous band, organized, and acting systemati c ally. Some two or three crimes of a similar nature baa previously been committed; this being the oase, it was deemed wise to strike at the ioot of the evil. The government, by the advice of the local magistrates, a reward of 3000l. for any 'information whieh might lead to the detection of tbe parti e s concerned, at the same time offering a foll pardon to any one (not peing the ac tual assassin) who would turn king's evidence, or, as it is styl e d in IreJ:i.nd, become an approver. But for several days these salutary measure were of no avail. Though great. exertions were now made by every member of the magist e rial bench, who began to feel no sm!\ll alarm, since none of whom could say, one of their own body might be the next victim. My friend Vokes on this occasion (as usual) lit!;le, and seeined to take the affair extremely cool. But as I knew that he was tiourly in communica tion,with the Government, and continually sending his force about th<:l coQntry, I had little coubt that he was deeply anxious about the case. He had gone for a s;i11gle >1day to visit some relatives, a.nil qnly returned on the following afternoon to a late dinner, which wc will suppose I was sharing 11$ this sketch opens. "Any news, Harry, since I have been absent?" "None whatever, axcept one or two visits from eounty magistmtes, relative to this murder, and a heap of letters which have arrived for you/' "I've seen the letters, And read them. As to the case speak of, I really think the less fuss made about it thebetter." "Do you think you've got a clue to it." 1 Jtls impossible to say; but let us cha1;1ge the subject," and away he went into family gossip and public me no 0pportunity to cross-questioij h,im further,


: ,, 4 48 Arrah-narPogue, (.Arrah-oj-the-Kiss); The \].inner was over, and our first glass of punch just discussed,-by the bye, Vokes had a strange way of always mixing the best sherry with his grog-when the servant entered and announced that the Major's" car was at the door. Now, as that worthy had only just arrived, I confess I thought the announce ment strange. V saw I was puzzl ed, and at once explained. "The fact is I have important business to transact at Rath bane," (his cottage, only one ril e from the city. ) "Will you accompany me 1" Not I. You are gomg to run rnto some perilous affair, the danger of which I don't feel inclined to share. I hope I may not shrink when called upon legitimately to risk my life; but, truely, I see no fun in these reQkless exposures." "Bah! my dear fellow, there is nothing to alarm you here. I only want to examine some witnesses, and it you'll come, I'll promise you a bottle of the old claret you profess to like so well." i That alters the case; you must promise not to off, and talk t-0 your p eop le, I'm left to driri!Cmy wine without company." "Oh, as to that, if you don't object, I'll not l eave the table. But I have yet to finish my second glasS 0f punch; I always take one extra when I come in from travelling." "How far have you been?" "Nabochlish avich 7 Will you come 1" "I will." 1 us be off, for I shall r e turn here to sleep. Th e family will r eturn from Kilkee within an hour, so let us make haste." ) arose, jumllild on the car, and in l ess than half-an-hour I was seated between a bright fire an;'1\i. well covered tabl e-as far as wine and desert went. For some minutes mv relative did not allude to the business which had thus brought him out oftowi'i. At length he rang the bell twice, and Sergeant Reedy, one of his most fa_ voured policemen, entered, saluted him in military style, and then respectfully awaited to be questioned or directed. "You come in from Cahirconlish in charge of one individual 7" "I did, Major." "At what hour did you arrive 7" "At a quarter before three, Sir, this morning. I was anxious to get in be-fore daylight." "And where did you fine' the individual 7''.. "At the house of Captain F--, who said he had written to you." He has. Has the man told anything 7" "According to your usual order s, Major, I for bad him to speak till he saw your honour yourself." How were you d1: essed 7" As a labourer, sir." "That's right. I trust you were kind and friendly with this man, and gav e him all h e asked for ?" "Yes, Major; except spirits, which you always forbid." Bring him in." tJ I< I "Yes, sir ;" and away went the sergeant. "These will exp l ain to you my present business," said the Major, throwin g me over two letters. I opened and read them. The first was dated--Hall, near Cahirconlish. It ran thus:"MY DEAR Srn,-The bearer, Paddy Macauliffe, appeared before me this morning and gave me such important information relativ e to the l ate daring murder, that I have little doubt that his evidence will lead to the capture of the wholti gang. I know Macauliffe well, and I am sure he may be relied on. He was' present durin g


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 49 the whole affair, but did not take an active part. I therefore hope, that on the conviction of these wretches, Government will let him haYe the reward. I will be with you on Wednesday. "P. S. I send him in under the care of Sergeant Reedy." The second was thus worded :" Yours truly, WILLIAM F"Col. L--sends in a most important and respectable man, a tenant of his own, who it appears beheld t h e whole of the late savage butchery from a cupboard in which h e was hidden. B e ing a voluntary witness, and a man of some little station, he trusts that M a jor Vokes will take his information, which may b e r e lied on, as quietly as he can, as the bearer Micha e l Tobin, is ,easily scared, and already feels alarmed at b eing sent up by a polic eman (William Kennedy) whom Colonel L-has dirActed to accompany witness to Limerick. Green Hough, Co., Limerick "Well," exclaimed 1, as I concluded these epistles, "I suppose you are delighted at thus receiving the information you so much desired." "Faith, you'll see that in a minut e .' He again rang twic e and S e rgeant Reedy appeared, ushering in a v e ry well-looking countryman, dress e d in the usual fri e ze coat, corduroy breeches, and black stockings, so generally worn throughout the county of Limerick; taking off his hat, and bowing slightly to Vokes, h e stood with a smiling face, and a prepossessing countenance, awaiting his examination. "You were at the affair near Rathkeale ?" "I was, MajorY What took you there?" "Sure I was drinking with my cousin, Mat Carmody, and, by the same tok e n I owed him for a small garden of potatoes; and says h e to m e, 'Paddy Doody,' says he--" "I thought your name' was Macauliff e 1') interrup e d the magistrat e with an insignificant smile "And so it is, your honour," replied the other, with out win c ing; "but I was just th e n thinking of this same Pat Doody, who was amongst the co mpany, who guv m e a puck on the ear because I call e d him a bad boy. Sure, my name's w e ll known. Faith, thin, it's odd, that his honour, Mr. F--, di<.l not rnintion it in his letter.'' "Perhaps h e did. But go on." W e ll, yer honour, after drinking for some time, who should come in but Corn e y Macphail, and the reupon there was a great whispering, and several of them looked savagely at m e ; and thin they drew aside, and talked, and seemed to diff e r Presently Carmody comes up to m e, and, says he, 'Aren't you a cousin of mine?' I am,' says I. 'Thin, sure, you wouldn't betray us-faith we'll make it worth your while?' and thin th ey swore m e on th e cross, and tould me the y w e r e going to attack th e ould couple anent Rathkea le, and that if I'd join 'em they'd give me five silver shillings, and e xc u se me the bit of potato es I owed him ; so I consinted, and away w e went-the r e w ere nin e of us -but I only remarked five besides myself, and thim same w ere Mat Carmody Micha e l the Fox, Martin Sh ea and his lame brother Bill, Pat Hogan, and m y self. That's all I recognised.'' I thought you said Paddy Doody was there,'' interven ed V o k es. "Ah, thin, I forgot it; sure y e r honour's right. But he went offto Americk y n ext day, so l did not h ee d mentioning him.'' "Go on.'' "Well, wh e n we comes n ear the hous e Mat Carmody crept in, and mad e sure they were asleep ; and thin returning, says he, Come, boys, let's do the


50 .Arrah-na-Pogue, ( Arrali -ofthe-Kiss); work at once. Sure, they're nothing better than h eretics-they hav en' t been in chap e l these six months-so we needn't fear any h a rm will come of it' and with that we a ll rushed on, and with a great, big bludgeon Dan Hogan broke in the door." "I thought you said it was Pat Hogan?" --" Ah, th en, sure l'm confused-I m eant Dan Hogan." "Was Michael Tobm th e re? Y o u know him, I believe?" Ah, then ain't h e half brother to my wife's first. cousin ? I know him well -he was not t h ere, I r e m embe r w e ll. He went that evening into Limerick to bring out a coffin for Tim Sullivan's baby that died of th e small-pock, or th e lik es "We ll, go on ; you say you attac ked the cottage?" Faith we did, but I had no l.1and o r part in it, barring th e b e ing there. llfat Carmody rushed to the beds1de of the o ld man, and when he wouldn't tell wh ere his money was hid, Mat knock!!d his brains out with a hurl ey stick, and took his k eys from under the pillow. It was Martin Shea and his broth e r .. think finished the old woman; but I can't swear to it ent ir e ly, as there was no light in the room; but I certainly h ea rd th e ir voices while she was being throt tled ; and then we came down, and some of the boys got t h e watch and the mon ey ." "And then th e y burned the cottage?" "They did, your honour." Did you see them do so?" "Sure I h anded them th e light, and seed 'em do it." "They set fire to the th atc h first--did th ey not?" "That's what they did, Major, and sure th e straw was so ould and so dry, !l.nd it tuk fire directly You will swear to this?" "I will. But sure th e y'll give me th e reward they promis ed, for my life won't be safe afte r the trial, and a ll my own people will be against me, because I sha ll hav e hang e d my cousin Mat Oh, th en, Major, you'll see to this." "I'll see justice done don't fear. Tak e this h onest man out, S e rgeant,. and let him have some supper I'll see him again presently. T ake him out, and send in William K enne dy." "Yes, Major,'' repHed Reedy, and away went the policeman and the ap prover Vokes laughed h eart ily, but would not communicate to me the subject of his mirth. Prese ntly Kennedy e nt e red. Bring in Michael Tobin." In a few minutes more, h e stood before the r edoubtab l e chief magistrate of police. "You are Micha e l Tobin-a tenant of Colonel L--, I b e li eve Do you reside near Green Hough?" I live 0)1 the d e mesne, your honour,'' r ep li ed the new comer, who was dressed in a most respectable suit of c:lothes, and whose manner bespoke a far hig her shation than that of the last witness You beheld th e crime committed, about which Col. L--writes 7" Th e man appeared puzzled, and in his agitation n early crushed hi s hat b e tween his h ands "You may speak out. Kennedy you kn ow, and this gentleman is my near r e l ative so you may speak out T ell m e then, how ca me you ove r to the spot "Faith, Sir, I'm ashamed to tell the truth. But the fact i s ah, now, sir, don't press me "Out with it, Tobin." "Well, then, if I must t e ll it, I will, thou g h I wouldn't like it knnwn. Sure


Or, The Wir.k]ow Wedditig. 5J I went over to coort the servant girl. But when I got over I found she had gone to Dublin, and so 1 was about returning to Hough Green, when I he.ard a noise, and, on looking out, I saw two men llircing the door, and as I had no arms I hid in the cupboard in the servant's room." Tha't was in the room upstairs 1" ''It was so." Was it on the first or the second floor 1" '' On the first, your honour1" "You are positive 1" "I am, Major." Well, then, go on." "Presently the old man went down, and there was a great scuffle, and he managed to wound one of the men with a carving knife ; but the other fellow came behind him and shot him right through the head, and then the missus rushed down, and they shot her too." "And what were the names of the men 1" "Bryan Quill and Pat Martin, of Palla!lkenry." Could you swear to them 1" l'faith I could Sure wasn't there a light on the tabl!'l, besides a great big lump of a blazing fire. I've known the two men these five years." "You are sure there were only two 1" Quite sure." Was not Paddy Doody of the party 1" "Not he: sure he was out of the way-about the horse stealing affair in Tipperary." Was the house slated or thatched 1" "Slated, your honour." "That will do. You may go now." But the 300l., your honour 1" "Oh, we can't talk of that till after the assizes." Faix, that's hard, too," "Is it?" Then suddenly turning round, in an angry voice Vokes j].emanded Do you remember the pattern, in May last, at Patrick's Well 1" The man, with a pale face and quivering lip, admitted that he had been there. "Do you remember knocking down James Murphy as yqu" walked home with him, and taking his watch from him 1 You called yourself William then." "Sure, Major," stammered the man, "it's not me you're speaking of1" Bed ad, my good man, it is; and as you choose to deny the fact, I'll send out for James Murphy." Ah, thin, you wouldn't do thqt. Sure, even if I did the same, my present important testimony will overbalance that. You wouldn't be shakiug, J;iy such an the truth of a witness who is about to convict for you t11e two greatest rogues in the county? It was the master (Colonel L--) himself who tould me my past faults (if I had any) would all be wiped out by this good act." And so they would be if your tale were true; but it's a tissue of falsehood." "Oh, then give me the Book and I'll kiss it." "Not I. I'll not hear you take a false oath. Have you not sworn that you were concealed in a cupboard upstaii:s 1" And so I was." "You are a perjured villain. The cottage of the poor old coupie was all built on the ground-floor. So much for your truth. Kennedy, take him away, and let him be strictly guarded till my secretary has ha

52 Arra h-na-Pog1te, ( Arra h-of-the-K iss); M a j o r V o k e s nov r r a n g his b e ll twice, a nd S ergeant R eed y e nt e r e d. Bri n g Ma ca uliff e bac k H e di d so. "And n ow, Mr. D oody, a r e yo u n o t a preci o u s scou n d r e l t o try and h a ng five inn ocen t m en, m e r e l y t o ge t thi s 300l. "Oh, M a j o r, I swear--" "Sile nce, sir! Y o u have alread y t old u s e n o u g h li es Y o u begin by c alling y ourself Macauliff e wh e n I h ap p e n t o kn o w th a t your n a m e i s D oody A h thin yo u see, I t h o u g h t o n acco u n t o t t h at li t tl e aff air a t Tippe r a r y you mi g h t no t ha ve b e li eve d m e i f I d id n o t ca ll m yself b y a noth e r n ame t h a t w a s m y rasi n Div il a noth er h a d I. Y o u sa i d th e h o u se was th a t c h ed?" Did n t th e y s e t fire t o it? Did n't I see the m?" "Yo u d id n o t, for yo u w e r e hiding a bo ut a t th e tim e And the r e's a n o th e r littl e fact yo u a r e mi sta k e n in The cottage i s s l a t e d a nd n o t th a t c h ed, a nd so yo u h ave committe d p e rjury T a k e him to t h e cou nt r y gao l a t o nce, and as y o u return c all o n Mr. D--, h e s a magi strate o f Tip p era r y and as k him to sen d a n o r de 1 t o th e gove rn o r o f t h e pri so n at o nce, t o send him over to C l o n mel. The ass izes o p e n th e r e t o-morrow. The r e t h e r e-no t a lking. Prove th a t J m w ro n g a nd I'll com pe n sate yo u T e ll J o hn t o brin g r o und th e ca r ;" and th e door closed o n thi s for swo rn w r e t c h H o w h o rribl e !" J. It is, indeed ; bu t l'm so r ry to say t h e se cases are n ot unfr e qu e n t Bu t do t e ll me; h o w did yo u kn o w t h a t th e cottage was s l ated and b u ilt o n o n e floor." Oh, th en, d o n t b e b o th e rin g y o ur se lf. I ll t e ll you. Whe n I sa id I w as g oing t o see my r e l a ti ves I at o n ce started for t h e spot and e x a min e d th e ruins o f t h e cottage in q uesti on. I th e n went o n a bout four miles, a n d discove r e d I b e li eve, th e act u a l m u rder e r o f th e o l d peopl e H e will be in o ur g aol, if m y fell ows are s h a rp, wi t hin a n h our. I h ave ta k e n meas ur es ." At t hi s m o m ent S e r gea nt M acgra th t h e b est m a n o f th e p o lice, aae r knock i n g, put in his h ead, a nd m e r e ly s a id, Dill o n is l o dg e d s afely. s i r ," an d imm edi ate l y d r e w back a n d s hut th e door. "I t o ld yo u so ," sa id V o k es, "but t h e ca r is ready; come a l o n g;" and aw ay h e w e nt. Th e last pri so n e r was h a n ged o n c l ear evidence and h e con fessed his guilt. The oth e r two w e re tra n s p orted. DARBY DEAR. O N E o f the most fri g h tful murd e r s which h ad app a ll e d t h e count y o f Lim e ri c k for so m e tim e h a d ju s t occ u r r ed, a n d as th e v i ctim was a fomal e c e l ebrat e d for h e r b eauty a nd h e r k,indness o f h eart, th e case e nli s t e d eve n m o r e th a n the usu a l sympath y e l icite d o n s imil a r occas i o n s Th e murd e r e d wo m a n was th e wife o f a most respectabl e b a k e r in Bruff, wh ose s urn a m e a t this m oment esca p es my memo ry, but w!ll proba bl y be b e t t e r recoll ec t e d b y t h ose conn ec t ed with Lim eric k in 1 828, o r th e r e ab o uts. In B r uff th e w h o l e t ale i s w e ll r e m e m be r ed, and p e rson s o f my o wn a g e will n o t be found w a nting t o confirm th e d e t a il s I now giv e The chri s ti a n name o f th e b a ker was D arby-a comm o n n a m e m th e s o uth of Ir e l a nd. His s urn a m e w e will ass um e t o b e H ogan, and h avmg thus pre mi se d go on with our s k e t ch. Aft e r disc u s sing th e n e w s o f th e d a y wit h M a J O r Vokes, with wh o m I h a d been breakfasting-afte r partakmg o f a somewh a t l a rg e p o rtion of fri e d s almo n and eggs-for young dragoon s arc, o r a t least w e re, ce l ebra t e d for th e i r pow-


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 53 ers of mastication-I arose, and was about to leave the room, whe n my father in-law called across to me, and in a careless manner asked me what I was going to do. "Nothing very particular." "Come along, then, with me on the outside car. I am going to tak e a drive in th.e country-the fresh air will renew your appetite. Run up stairs and take off your uniform, put on plain clothes, and by that time the car will be round." l assented, and speedily changed my appearance to that of a civilian. Where is the the car ?" asked I. lt's in the back lane-come alo!lg," said the Major, putting on his hat and taking up the hors ewh ip he general1y carried. "We shall be back to dinner." Now the last observation, coupled with the fact of the carriage having been brought to a quiet spot behind our stable, inst ead of the front d oor somewhat startled me; and when, on going out, I found Sergeant mounted in full uniform in attendance, I began to think over the mar.y scrap es and dangers I had gone through,,in Vokes's company, and felt more than h alf in clined to draw back. He saw this, and with loud laught e r assured me that there was n o dang e r whatsoever-that he was only going to sec T om Doolan (his senior chie f con stable, and a great friend of his), quarted in Bruff. As Vokes seldom deviated from the truth. I felt quite satisfied, and jumped on the car, and away we went. fo less than two hours we arrived at Doolan's quarters, and h ere we found the worthy C. C. I now discovered that my father-in-law's object was to inquire into the details of the late murder. Mr. Doolan first supplied him with the most ample accounts of it, and added that he h ad b een out two days and a night, accompanied by the wr etched hus band. But all in vain. The police h a d taken up several persons on suspicion, more particularly a pedlar from th e county of Cork ; but after strict exa mination, th e magistrates had felt it their duty to disch arge "What further course to tak e I scarc ely know. Tell me what shall I do ?" said Doolan. "Well, then, faith, do nothing at all. Go and fish in Loch Ghurr, or s hoot snipes in the. bog-or make lov e to the ladies, as you're a hands ome fellow. Do what you like; but l eave this affair alone, till you see me again." Our friend, who was an active and int e llig ent officer, scarcely liked being thus thrust aside; but as he well knew his superior, he only laugh ed, and left us, directing th e Major to the house of the bereaved man. Whe n we e ntered, the poor fellow was in tears. Whe n called on to r e late the circumstances of the case, his grief was painful to witness; and no wonder either-for his wife, quite a young woman, had been a good wife to him, and a more attached couple had never existed. The circumstances were easily detailed. On the Saturday evening previous, Hogan and his wife had taken a l ong stroll into the country, determined to enjoy the fine weather. But as they were in their every-day clothes, they rather avoided the frequented road, and strolled through the fields. At about three mil es from Bruff, in a solitary spot, about two hundred yards from the road, they were suddenly pounc ed upon by a gang of three robbers, with their faces blackened. They instant]y seized the lovely girl, whose screams we::-e loud and long, and she struggled so hard that it required the strength of two men to hold her. The third had seized Hogan, and held a pistol to his head. Hogan, however-a


54 Arrah-na-'Pogue, ( Arrah-of-tlie-Kiss); man not e d for his courage-watched his opportunity, and knocked his captor down, and instantly fle d along the road, crying for h e lp. Presently h e met some people coming back from Limerick mark et, and when he told his tale th ey instantly returned with him to the spot. But they wer e too late. The unhappy victim lay d ead on the ground, her skull batte red to pieces by the blows of a heavy bludgeon. At this sight Hogan cried out loudly, and throwing himself on the body fainted away. The peasants, terrifi e d and shocked, raised the two in th eir arm$ and conveyed them b ot h back to Bruff. Poor Hogan wa:s confined to his bed, occasionally ravmg during the two da,)'.s following. A coroner's inquest sat on the body, and btought in a verdi ct of "Wilful Murd er ." The poor woman had only been buried the night before we arrived. The husband seem e d eager for vengeance, and suggested many schemes to Vokes by which the savage assassins might be discovered. Aft e r a moment's pause, the magistrate turned round, and looking straight at the Eoor man, said, "Hogan, you had better accompany me into Limerick." "Faith, Major, I'd rather not-for I'm still weak, and in grief." Yes, I know that; but p e rhaps your d e position may be necessary to bring th ese murderers to justice." Do you th e n think you'll catch them ? Oh, then, I pray to Heave n you could." "And yet you hesitate to com e It looks ill." "Not I, Major; sure I'm ready." "Yes, yes, my good fellow; but not in that dress. You must put on your Sunday suit, as w e shall n ave to appear before th e Bench: it would appear di s resp ectful to be seen thus." "True for ye," r e joined th e baker; and he quitted the room to change his clothes. I saw by V eye that he w as pleased with some result; what that result could be I could not imagine, but l equally knew it wvuld be no use to question him; so I maintained a strict silenc e whilst the magistrate went to the window, and beckon e d his sergeant up, to whom he gave some directions (apparently import ant ones) in Irish, and then dismissed him. H ogan now came out dressed in his best. His a ppearance was that of a quiet, industri ous shopkeep e r, r a th e r above than ben eat h the rank of his fellow trades m e n.' To my surprise, however, Vokes was evidently in no hurry to drive away; for although the car stood ready at the door, he asked Hogan to give him a crust of bread-and-cheese and a glass of beer. Now, as I knew that my relative esc hewed lun c heon, and positively dislik ed the food he had just asked for, I cl early perceived his object was delay. The refreshments were, however, brought, and slowly partaken of. Whilst we were thus employed, I h ea rd a hors e gallop away. In a quarter of an h our more, we were all again on the car, dnving towards Limerick. When we had travelled about two miles, we met Sergeant Macgrath, walking his hors e in the direction of Bruff. This fairly puzzl ed me; howev e r, I said nothing, while Vokes, stopping the car, jumped off and h e ld a few moments' conversat10n with the mounte d man. Th en, jumping up aga in, on we drove, Sergeant Macgrath, to whose saddle J now p e rceived a bundle was strapped, following us. At length we came to the spot near which the murder had taken place, when Vokes suddenly ord e red the carriage to stop, then turning ronnd, he looked straight at Hogan, and in piteous accents cried-" lJarby, lJarby dear, what are you doing ?'' The affrighted man turned as pale as a sheet, and l eape d from his seat Vokes now faced to him, continuing to cry out in a voice besp ea king agony,


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 55 even in tlie high tones of a female-" Oh Darby, Darby I surely yq1i wo1tld not murder me! Did I ever wrong you? Oh, Darby, have mercy on me.'" I really thought the major had gone mad ; but imagine my astonishment when Hogan, throwing himself on his knees, screamed out, "I confess it I B1tt how did I know you overheard her-Oh, the Lord be good to me !-then11 is the ve-ry words !" "Handcuff him, Tini;bury handcuff him! and bind him to the car." In an instant our coachman jumped down, and throwing open his topcoat, displayed underneath the green uniform of a policeman : in an instant more his orders were complied with, and the wretch was safely secured. Sergeant Macgrath handed his brother constable his load ed carbine, and fastening his horse to a gate, jumped off, and accompanied the major and m.yselt to the spot where the outrage had been committed, carrying in his hand the mysterious bundle. We soon at the fatal spot, whmi the sergeant opened his packet and produced a pair of shoes. These were those that Hogan had just changed for his boots, and the other articles of dress he had taken off in order to doll' his Sunday suit, by the desire of Major Vokes. Macgrath knelt down, and having minutely examined the footprints, which still were visible in the soil where the struggle had taken place, carefully fitted them to the shoes he brought-they tallied exactly Vokes then ver ified them himself. The coat-sleeve was turned inside out, and a large patch of found near the wrist; the trousei:s had been torn in the struggle, and sewed up again. Vokes now began searching amongst the bushes, but without success. On lookiltg into a dirty dyke which ran by, he perceived a piece of lying in it; he desired his sergeant to take it out : he did so. Jt was a short bludgeon, probably the one with which the murder had been committed. The police magistrate now found him self possessed of enough evidence to commit the prisoner upon, and returned to the carriage. Here sat the wretched man-pale as death, and sobbing like a child "Do you know this stick?" asked Vokes, displaying the bludgeon he had found. "Take it away !-take it away Sure if I hadn't had it in my hands, I'd never have done it;" and he covered his face with his hands, and cried aloud. We drove straight to Limerick county gaol, and there lodged the prisoner. After dinner that day I asked Vokes, most earnest ly, whether he had acted on any information, or merely on his own judgment. "Well, then, I declare to Heaven, my dear fellow, I acted entirely on my personal observation There was something in the look of this man; there was sor.1ething in his overwhelming grief that at once made me think. Ji.e was the murderer. Did you see how he winced when I proposed taking him into Limerick? But he fell at once into the when 1 recomme,nded him to change his clothes." And why did you do so ?" interrupted I. Faith, I knew that if he had committed the crime, he nad done so in the dress he had on, for he said he had walked out in his every-day attire : did you not remark him saying so?" "Not I." "Well, then, Harry, my boy, you'll never make a good thief-taker, for it is by these trifles we come at the greater truths. Did not you see me in Sergeant Macgrath? Well, it was to tell him to go into Hogan's room, and as he len it to sPize the clothes he took off, and gallop on to see if the shoes fitted the marks. Had they not done so, he was quietly to put the whole back again.


56 Arroh-na-Pogue, (Arrah-of-the-Kiss) ; He met us, however, and told us they did. So I thought myself justified in trying th e I did, and through which the prisoner was brought to confess. "But how did you happen to know the exact words?" "I chanced it. I knew his Christian name was Darby, and calculated pretty accurat e ly what the poor girl would have called out on his assaulting her. Even now I cannot be sure they were the exact words she used, nor probably is Ho gan; but th e y were so like them,-so like the appeal she probably madethat he b e lieved that some passer-by had overheard them, and thus in agony of terror admitted his guilt. But you'll see more strange scenes than this before you leave the country." "And what will the other magistrates say?" "Say! Nabocklish, my boy; haven't they been at me already 1 Two of my n e ighbours have already been at me, to blame me for thus taking up a highly respectable man,-while the principal magistrate, who lives near Bruff, has galloped in and offered to bail this exc e llent young man, whom he has known from his birth, to any amount. I, of course, refused-murde r is not a bailable offence. So my friend has gone down to th e club-house, and is now probably engaged in writing a memorial to the Lord Lieutenant, requesting his Exce ll e ncy to remove me from my situation." Vokes wound up with a hea1ty laugh. And have you no fear that you may have erred 1 Suppose this man is acquitted?" "Suppose the skies were to fall? H e re's your health!" and Vokes changed t11e subject. At the following assizes, Darby Hogan was tried for the murder of his wife, and convicted on the clearest evidence (though wholly circu mstantial) which could possibly be adduced. The night b e fore he suff e red, he fully confessed the justice of his sentence; but to th e last d e clared his firm belief that Vokes was gifted with snpernatuml powers. AN IRISH ELOPEMENT. I HAPPENED to be dining with an English friend at Moriarty's Hotel, who, in company with another tourist, was en route to behold the glories of Killarney, wh en, aft e r the wine had circulat e d more onc e I proposed an adjournment to Major V okes's. Voke s !" c ried the stranger-" Vokes! Surely you do not mean the chief magistrate of police?" Indeed I do." "The n I !ihall certainly not accompany you. I detest his very name. He has b e en the eause of all my misfortunes." How' so 7" asked my friend. "I don't say that he p1trposely injured me-I don't say that he acted improp erly; but h e was undoubtedly the cause of my leaving the army, and, to a cer tain extent, causing my character to be defamed." "H'ow is that"?" Ah, do t e ll us." "As I have said so much, I will. Call for some claret; for not one inch will I stir toward V okes's-not I. And I think, when you've heard my story, you will say I am right." He then commenced thus:"I had only joined the regiment about six months, when 1 appli e d for, and obtained leave for a fortnight on 'private urgent affairs;' and having done so,


Or, Tlie Wicklow Wedding. 57 left the barrack-yard in high glee. I was dressed in a new suit of mufti, and my h eart was as light as youth, health, and hope could make it. My friend Thompson shouted out a wish that I as I drove from the barrack gate in one of those old tumble-down vehicles which formed the most respecta ble mod e of transit some few years ago-yclept a post-chaise-or, as the driver denominated it," a posliay of tlie rig/it sort"-a term applied to every article to be admired, from a pretty girl to a poldoody oyster. "But 1 forgot to explam, that at the time I speak of I was quartered in this very city and that I was now starting for Brutt; where I had been invited by Sir Phelim O'Dowd-or THE O'Dowd, as some of the people called him-to pass three days with him. Sir Phelim, I must observe, had extended his hospitality to me in the hunting-field, where I had won his heart by leaping a high ditch (a ditch b e ing nothing less than a mud-bank in Ireland), and landing safely over the h ea ds of a man and horse that lay sprawling on the other side in gallant style! Sir Phe lim was wholy ignorant that I had m e t his l ovely daughter at a race-ball in Limerick, and fallen over h e ad and ea rs in love with h e r. Need I say I accepted his invitation, and now hastened to profit by it. "Arriv ed at 8astle O'Dowd-a modern square building, covered with white plaster and embower(;ld in dilapidated verandahs,-! jumped out of my rickety v ehicle, and at once sought the drawing-room, where the domestic forces were drawn up, evidently expecting my arrival. Sir Phelim, after a cordial welcome, introduced me to his l ovely daughter (littl e suspecting that we were already acquainted) and hls maiden sister, a g a udily-dressed old maid of some forty-five years of ag e ; then turning to his butler (for footmen are always called butlers in Ireland), ordered in the 'red round,' invariably offered to mid-day visitors. "My Louisa looked more l ovely than ever; the slight deception she was playing off, in thus concealing, for purposes of her own, our former intimacy, caused a most becoming blush to mantle on h e r cheek; and I'd have given half the estates of the Earl of Kingston-that is, if I had possessed them-to ha ve sent papa and aunt out of the room, only for five minutes. "Need I say how happily, yet how swiftly the hours passed! A stroll throug h the woods; a noble banquet with ti>bles groaning beneath enormous joints (as is always the case in Ireland); a cooper of excellent claret; and some really good music from my Louisa-I call her m,'!( to her from her old maiden aunt, who bore the same Christian name-seemea all to pass in a few minutes; and I could scarcely credit it, when Sir Phelim's butler announced midnight, and told us that our candles awaited us in th e hall. Such were the ways of the house. "Elated by wine to a certain extent, and filled with the most romantic ideas of love, I was endeavonring to discover my room, which I had proudly insisted on finding without escort--indeed, I believe I had rudely told the old butler to mind his own business, sensitively believing his polite pilotage was proffered under an idea that I was not quite steady-l was, as I said before, vainly trying to find the door of the room that the worthy domestic had indi cated, when a very smart female servant crossed my path, and bobbed an Irish curtsey. "'Come here, my colyeen,' said I, 'and tell me which is my room 1' "'Faith, it's straight before your h onour!' 'y OU are Miss Louisa's maid r "'That same !' says the pretty chambermaid Now, wine may kill, it may enervate, it may confuse-but still, in its early progress through the mind, it affords inspiration. At l east, so I found it. The reply of the pretty abigail at once filled me with a train of new ideas. "'Come here, ma cushla' (for I found a little native Irish would win her h eart); 'sure you'J give a note from me to Miss Louisa 1' 'Is it me would do it 1' r


58 Arrah-na-Pog ue, (Arrah-of-the-Kiss); 'Faith, the n, you will. Look h e re, darlint I don't understand much Iris h, but, in plain English, h e r e's your reward, if you will;' and I h e ld up a sov ereign. "'Will a duck swim?' inelegantly repli e d the smiling Abigail. "'Wait, then, a moment, and I'll do the thing respectably.' (This 'Vas a sentence l had picked up in Clare.) wait, and l'll bring you the letter : and I rush ed into my room. "I tore out a l ea f from my pocket-book-took out my very best pencil-case (a go ld one) and wrote :-f' DEAREST Lou1sA,-Meet me near the front gate, at efeven to-morrow night-a' post-chaise will be in readiness-to bless the affection of one who means honourably but who, enc hanted on a short acquaintance, sets ordinary rules at defiance, the warm b eati ug of his heart having long banished the cold dictates of hhi head. 'Your adorer,--.' "The note done, I sealed it with a love-s ea l, and deliver e d it prepaid, to the maid, wh o for another sov e r eig n, promised to bring me a reply within half-an hour. My fri e nds, did you ever await the reply to a fove-letter? No. Then you can know nothing of my throbbing h eart, my b eat ing pulse, my feverish t em ples, &c. &c. &c., so well described oy the po e t. Suffice it to say, the maid returned ; and, having po c ket ed another sovereign and accepted a kiss, gave me a note redolent of musk and closely sealed; and ran away laughing. I entered my room to read the precious missive. "With trembling hands I opened it"' My DEAR Srn,-1 really feel that I am acting most imprudently. But love is a maddening passion, which carries us off, even beyond the bounds of prudence. Fie! -I a lmost blush while I write the word, a nd compl y after an acquaintance so short; but that short acquaintance convinces me you are a man of honour. I WILL there. 'Yours, Alas too much yours, 'Lou1sA O'Dowo." "Oh H10w raptuou sly I ki ssed the dear n ote I almost devoured it in my ardour. And yet, i again, there was a nasty, selfish, thought which said, 'fs this conduct n o t too hasty?, Should she thus have succumbed on the very first attack 7' But no It was the eff ect of and I hush ed every murmur-every scruple, as I fell asleep blessing my own, my adored Louisa. Shall I say how the next clay was passed? Shall I say how my h ear t kept jumping up in my throat, and how I long ed for the coming night 7 My Louisa kept h e r room. She said she had a ccld. This was evidently feigned to conceal her agitation; and J amused myself by watching the vain attempts of a Cap tain O'Haggarty, w bCI' sought to win the l o v e of the Baronet's sister. The old lady repulsed him -/ith scorn. She evidently saw that he was a fortune-hunter, and as such t,jd him. She eve n appealed to me. But as I was busy with my own hap 9oughts, and as I was by no means desirous of embroiling my-self with the st' shot in Tipp ,erary, I declined, to the e\ident annoyance of the old maici, in ering on her Jllb.a,lf. "After had been more than cordial throughout the day, stretched out pressed mine; then, with a wink and knowing look, h e drank-' to fo!J, my boy ; may you succeed in love and war. I suspect you take ladi es liki fortresses-b'y assault, ch, Harry, my boy?" then burst out laughing, and .pi-'oposed to r etj r e to the drawing-room. "There was a bantering tone about rn' h ost. that puzzled m e Ile seemed r / I


I / Or, TM Wi'cklow Wedding. 59 what is called 1 up' to something; bJt what that something was 1 could not divine. Louisa could, surely, not have b etraye d me 1 "The maid-servant might have b een indiscreet, it is true; but then my ab duct ion of his only daught er, would surely not have be e n a sub j ect of merriment to her father. Even old' Miss O Dowd k ept smiling ; and the only one out of' humour-for Louisa still kept her room-\vas the Hibernian captain. I "At e l eve n precisely we all gladly r et ired; and I list ened at my door to h ear that the hou se w as quiet. In ten minut es all was s ilent; and as my watch told the half-ht), my bribed .Nbigail appeared, and with caution l e d me to the garden-gat e v h e re a post-chaise stood waitin g. She insist ed on my ente ring it. 1 did so; and away went the maid to fetch h e r dea1 mistress. Oh, how im. pati ent-how anxious I f elt Presently, a: light footst e p was h eard, and in another moment Louisa was c lasp e d in my arms. H e r blu s hes were concealed by a thick veil ; but, as I pressed h e r to my bosom, I felt her beating heart "With a wild hurrah! which I vainly e nd eavou red to silence, away da s hed the postboys-for I had four h orses on this occasion,-and away dashed the ri c k ety o ld c h a i se My L ouisa sank int o my arms, and, for the first timl', I imprint ed a kis s on h e r swe e t lips; that is to say, making allowance for the envious veil whi c h intervened. She sighed ; she murmured ; I could just catch my n ame breath e d forth, wh e n a seeming ea rthqu a ke rou sed me fr o m my dream of h app in ess Jn the next moment I lay sprawling in the high road. The postboys had turned the corner too s harply, a high stone had caught the wheel, and the post-chaise, being fairly turn e d over, at once came to pieces, while the released nags galloped on for several yards, the post-boys having been hurl ed fr om th eir saddles. I jumpe d up unhurt. I rushed across and raised my ador e d Louisa, who h ad b e come in sens ibl e Jn vain I strove to mouse her; all was dark. I rais e d h e r ve il, but was un ab l e to see her dear face ; I could not r ea ll y discover whether s h e w a s seve r e l y injured or not. Fortunately at thi s mom e nt, I h e ard a h o rs e app roachmg. I s h outed with all my might; and t o n1y grea t j oy Captain O'Haggarty came up, and jumpuig from his saddle, instantly l ent his aid. My cries had been h eard and a farm servant approached. I exp lain ed in a few words my situati o n to th e Capta in, and h e vowed to assist m e Th e rusti c carr i ed a lantern ; we opened it, and cast the li ght on the foce of my L ouisa. Oh, Heavei:is I can n ever forget the moment; l actually screamed with annoyance, while the Captain rapp ed out his mos t powerful oath. In my arms lay ext e nded Louisa O'Dowd-yes, Louisa O'Dowd-but not MY Louisa O'Dowd, but OLD Louisa O'Dowd, h e r antiquated an d crabbed aunt. In my vexation, l l e.t her fall into the mud, from which sh e instantly arose, seeming to h ave suddenly r ecove r e d in the most miraculous mann e r, and b ega n to pour out a thousand maledictions on my now too apparent disgu s t. "On the other hand, Captain O'Haggarty made use of the most insulting terms, the mildest being traitor! seducer! ahd abductor I could not explain without comp rising my Louisa, so I attempted no defence; but hurlmg d e fiance at him and his old love, 1 agreed to meet him at daylight, at the e ighth mile stone on the Lim e rick road, there to settl e our dispute with pistols. A few words, and we separated. H e carried off his venerable charge in tdumph. Disg usted, irritated, and somewhat ashamed I sought the cottage of Tim Sullivan, t he master of the hounds, who, though it was now midnight, J felt assured I should find still up, imbibing his fourteenth or fifteenth glas of toddy. "The wotthy squire-or th e Master, as h e is styled in Munst er-welcomed me wit h a l o ud shout, an,d instantly ord e red in a r e inforcement o f glasses and bottles. Th en. turning r o und. h e introduced m e to M a jor Vokes. a handsome little man, with a cheerful smile on his face, wno sat on the other side of the table sharing his liqu or,-seem ingly nothing loth to do so.


60 Arralt-na-Pogue, ( Arrali-of-the-Kiss); "I was delighted; for, truth to tell, I felt a conscimtious scruple at asking Tun to be my second in the fast approaching affair. Yet, what could I do 1 lt was hard thus to call on a man with a wife and half.a-score of children to em broil himself; but, on the other hand, if I did not get a second before daylight, O'Haggarty would probably post me as a coward. I had no alternative-at least, so I had supposed-as I sought Tim Sullivan's residence. Btit now a very proper person sat before me. H e bore a military prefix to his name; he was doubtless a military man; the Fates had sent him to my aid. For half-an-hour I sat, ql}ietly enjoying my toddy ,-studying all the time howl should attack the Major. It was a bold measure; but I had no alterna; tive. It is tme he was a stranger; but. among soldiers there is always a degree of masonic brotherhood. So I now only waited a good opportunity. Here, again, Fortune favoured me: Tim was called away by the sudden illness of a favourite hunter. "I lo s t not an instant,-1 at once addressed my proposed aid. "'Major, as a stranger,-! really want wor ds to apologise,-but the urgency of the case must plead for me. Will you second me?" "'I really do not understand you !' "'Simply, then,-'tis this-I am abrupt, that I may make my communication before Sullivan returns-I have agreed to fight a duel at daybreak.' And you wish to tell me this?' 'Yes, Major, in the hope of inducing you to become my second. "'Your second !-ha! ha! ha !-a capital joke I und e rstand!' "Now, for the very life of m e I could not see why th e Major should be so very m e rry. l am sure I did not feel so. He surely could not ha\ e misunder stood m e .. So I chimed in"' You understand me 1' "'Oh, perfectly I'll be off now; but I shall be sure to be th ere,-at day break, L think you said?' "'I did.' "'But l forgot the place and the name of your antagonist. You must t e ll me both, as I must be in time.' "'My antagonist is Captain O'Haggarty.' 'Oh No wonder you are frightened ; he's the best shot in Ireland.' "'I'm not frightened, Major; but under the peculiar circumstances--' I understand !' replied Vokes; and again he burst out laughing. Where is the rendezvous ?' 'The eighth mile-ston e on the Limerick road.' 'That's right.' He then took out a small pocket book and noted down all the particulars. Again he smiled, and ro se, saying, 'We shall be sure to be the re,' and left the room. "That Vokes took notes did not surprise me. Many men with bad memo ries invariably do so, That his coming responsibility should induce him to leave his grog, I could understand, though it vexed me. But that he should not seek to know the cause of quarrel, or any particulars of the affair, I confess astonished me; while the words We will be there' puzzled me. But, perhaps, as an old hand, he intended to bring a surgeon, or-as is often the case in Ire land-a friend, to see the fun. "I passed three long hourii with Tim. I borrowed his pistols, but gave him no hint of my projected rencontre. I drank little; but chatted away till four o'clock, when Sullivan proposed to retire. We did so. In half-an-hour more I had slipp e d out, and was already on my way to the Limerick road. Although daylight had scarcely fully lighted up the heavens, yet O'Haggar ty and a fierce-looking friend awaited my coming with bloodthirsty impatience. I confess I felt somewhat small in thus approaching him, unaccompanied by a second. \


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 61 Where is your friend, sir 1 i thought you understood the rules of these affairs.' "'And so I do; he'll be here directly.' May I ask who acts on your side? demanded the fierce-looking man. Major Vokes,' said I. "'What! is that your game?' shouted he. 'Coward !-poltroon !' roared the captain. At that moment Vokes galloped up, accompanied py four mounted police men, and away bolted the man with the red whiskers. 'I arrest you both! Take their arms from them, Sergeant Hennessy,' said the Major. Gentlemen, you must accompany me.' "'Infamous traitor!' roared O'Ha.ggarty, frowning at me and shaking his fist. 'Dirty coward !-whew!' and he gave a cont11mptuous whistle. 'Come a long, gentleman; you must imitantly accompany me to Sir Phelim O'Dowd, who, as the nearest magistrate, will, on my information, bind you both over to keep the peace.' "Sha ll I go on with my tale 1 No; it is too painful! I soon discovered that Major Vokes was at the h ead of the police; and, consequently, my application to him was quoted as an unmanly mode of avoiding this duel. O'Haggarty first posted me as a coward; then ran ;i.way with tlie old spinstet. Miss Louisa O'Dowd the younger with truth declared that she knew nothing at all of the affair; but cruelly added-' the detestable coward !' My brother officers sent me to Coventry ; and, in a fit of despair, I sold out of the army and became a settler in Canada; where I afterwards shot my best friend, because he foolishly, when elated by wine, jeered me about old maids and police inspectors." THE TERRY ALTS. IN the year 1830 an agrarian system of agression arose, bearing the name of Terry "Alt." Whence this strange appellation was taken it is impossible to say, though it was generally asserted at the time that the guilty parties bor rowed the name of the most harmless and well-disposed farmer in the county of Clare to confer it on a very extensive and well-organized band of marauders, who, under the plea that imfficient land was not apportioned to the growth of potato e s and grain, amused themselves by digging up and thus destroying thousands of acres of land. By every post, Government received notices of fresh outrages of this descrip tion. Bodies consisting of several hundred arm e d men, nightly passed through portions of the South of Ireland-more particularly through the county of Clare and marked their footsteps by fresh outrages. Vokes was, of course, as usual, very active in suppressing thP-se aggr e ssions, and, indeed, the particular district over which he presided he kept comparatively fre e from stain. But daily ahd hourly alarmed author ities rushed into Limerick to report fresh agrarian attacks. By his advice, the troop (in which I was then a cornet) was ordered over to Newmarket-on-Fergus, and there took up its quarters. The presence of the military had the desired effect, and for several days no Terry Alts ventured into our immediate neighbourhood. In the meantime the magistrates assembled, and after a solemn discussion agreed to declare to the Government their utter inability to put down the dangerous body who now threatened their property'--concluding their report by an earnest app e al to the higher powers to send them further protection. The reply to this was, perhaps, one of the most extraordinary on record. It simply stated that the Marquis of Anglesey, then Lord Lieutenant of Ire-


62 .Arra/i-na,.Pogue, (.Arrali-of-the-Kiss); land, would at once visit the disturbed districts himself, and that after personally making the requisite observations, His Excellency would take the b est steps at once to put an end to the disgracE>ful state into which the local magistrates had allowed the county of Clare to fall. In a l et ter written by himself, he inform e d Sir Augustine Fitzgera ld, an old general officet of high standing in Clare, that h e would pay him a p e rsonal visit at his hospitabl e mansion ( Cahirgoran) in the course of three days, and further than that, after addressing the Bench, and the hospitality of the worthy baronet for one night, he would proceed to Cork the following evening. All was now confusion. In cons e quence of the turbulent statP. of the county, every gentleman had, m@re or less, sent away his silver plate, and other valuables, to his bank e rs for safe k eeping; and now b ega n a general application for loans of sue;h articles as might be d ee med nec essary to place on tabl e the impe tu0us Lord who, if not rec e ived in first-rat e style, might naturally (aft e r his differences with the magistrat es ) look upon it as a slight. Sir Augustine's plate was in Dublin; he would scarcely have time to obtain it, besides the risk and trouble of having it down for one day. So messengers oi1 horseback were sent to every neighoour and relative from Dromoland to H er mitage, to :;well out this metallic pic-nic. The parties calleJ upon responded most handsom e ly, and when the noble Marquis dashed into Cahirgoran Park, in a post-chaise and four, we w e re ready to r ece ive him with military honours, and the hospitable General equally pre pared to do justice to his exalted guest by a show of first-rate entertainment. But, alas! th e deeply-irritated Viceroy was not thus easily to be calmed; his soul was in arms," and, spurning the proffered luncheon plac e d before him, he impati e ntly waited the coming of the magistrates. They soon arrived, and after presenting a complimentary address to his Ex cellency, made th eir r e port, which was little more than an echo of their forme1 communication. The Marquis could scarcely hear them patiently to the end; when, bursting out, he addressed th em in a strain of unusual censure. H e positiv ely averred that "he had marked eaoh outrage as it occurred, and clearly perc e ived that had the landloi;ds been more conciliatory, and at the same time more firm, those outrages would have at once been put a stop to. "He had been received at every st

Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 63 Need I add, that each fresh compliment was applauded to the sky, that cheer after cheer succeeded eac h other till they positively became deafening: the bles sings called down on the "Hero of Waterloo" were so numerous that the recording angel" could scarcely hav e found room to in scr ib e th em ; and while "Brave Anglesey's" name was still wafted to h eaven on the breaths of hundreds of the Irish peasantry, that most e xc ellent but impulsive chief retired, once more restored to thorough good-humour by the Cade mille falthah of the people h e had addressed. The offended magistrat es by no m eans shared the joyous or co nfident feelings of the hilSh functionary; but as they h ad promised to partake of the dinner pro vided for him, they sat down to it, and almost in gloomy silence discussed the e legant banquet placed before them. The cloth removed, the loyal host arose, and after toastin g th e sovereign," drank as usu a l, that of the Lord Lieutenant, dwelling on those bright and bril liant points of his Excellency's c haracter whioh will liv e through future ages of history T o his present opinions, he wisely and hospitably refrained from alluding. As might be expected, his Excellency rose to reply. His ill-humour had pas3cd away, and h e now endeavoure d slightly to make up for his severe ani madversions of the morning. But as h e warmed on the subject, h e be came almost en thu s iasti c ; and after pointing out to them the devotion of the peasantry to hims elf, th e l ove they en. tertained for him, h e earnestly besought them to copy his mode of treating th em, and t hu s secure their waTm affections. "Yes," added his Lordship, in conclusion, "act as I do, and you will eq uall y gain the same attachment. You see how th ey welcome m e. They will then eq ually w elcome you. I have but to hold up my finger, and th ey at once obey me. "I will stake my life that I should walk alone through the country unmol est ed My prese nce would bring peace amongst thew. I only wish I could stny amongst them a longer period to soothe their irritate d feelings. Y es, gentle m e n, you may retire quietly to your houses to-night, for l'll pledge myself; from my thorough kn o wledge of th e country, that no o ne will harm you. Ne, agrarian outrage will be committed whil e I r emain in the south of Ir e land." Content with this comparatively gentle addr ess the Viceroy sat clown. He soon after rose, which was a signal for breaking up. 'lt having been pre d etermined that his Excellency would hold a general l e v ee on the following day, tho se who were not staying in the house at once took their departure. Few felt please d at the manner in which th ey had been spoken to. A very few almost beli eved Lord Anglesey was right ; but as they rod e and drove through the splendid park at Cahirgoran, now lit up by a bright moon, they one and all agreed to attend the m ee ting on th e morrow. Tired by the fatigues of the day, I gladly sought my couch at midnight, and d e termin ed to take a compe nsation sleep, as l had ridden into Limer ick and baa k early on the preceding d ay, previous on my official duties. Need l then say I was soon so und asleep, and e njoying that delightful slum b e r so peculiar to early manhood, wh e n suddenly a trumpet loudly so unded und e r my window, disturbing my then delightful dream. Co uld I be mistaken? No, there it goes again. "By George! It's 'boots and saddle 1' exclaimed I, now thoroughly awake, and quickly jumping out of bed-for be it known to m y non military readers, that this said "boots and saddle" 1 is an instant summons "to turn out and mount." 'i V hat this could m ean 1 was fairly puzzled to guess. Could any accident h ave occurred to our illustriou s visitor? Almost impossible. Could any sudd en rising require our presence to put it down? Not likely. Could any of the magistrates have been murdered on their wa y h ome. No;


64 .A1rah-na-Pogue, ( Arrali of-the-Kiss) ; they would not have called us out on such an occasion. What then could it be 7 Eager to know, I rushed down to parade, and there met my commanding officer (Captain D --), who, far from affording me any information, seemed still more puzzled than myself. The only clue he could afford was a written order from Sir Augustine order ing us at once to proceed to Cahirgoran House. '; lt must th e n concern the Lord Lieutenant. But in I clearly understood he was only to be called at eight. o'clock 7" this case why so early. It is now scarcely six We'll soon see," said D--. So ordering the trumpeter to sound the trot, we w ent off at the rate of some nine miles an hour, and soon entered the. gates of Augustine's residence. At a single glance we read the cause of our being thus hastily summoned. The whole of the noble, the beautiful park-more particularly around the house-was dug up : the grass that had for centuri e s been the ornament of the estate, the pride of the owner, was now turned most skilfully and effectually into a potato bed. Not a sod of green pasture remained. Four hundred acres of brown mould now disfigured the approaches to the mansion. Betwe e n midnight and five in the morning this leviathan atrocity had been committed under the very nose of th eir popular ruler Before or since I have never h e ard of such a demonstration. I confess I never felt so taken aback. Truly, Vokes had foreshadowed this. He had not foreseen, or perhaps expected, such a wholesale effort on the part of the peasantry; but he had clearly and invariably pointed out the danger of attempting to humbug the people by blarney, or relying too much on what is called enthusiastic popularity. A carriage arid four stood before the house as we approached His Excel lency accompanied by a single aid-de-camp, stepped in. I can never forget his mingled look of anger, disappointment, and disgust. He drew down the blinds, and, ordering the postilions to drive quickly, started off towards Cork without even bestowing the usual salutation at part ing We escorted him about half a mile, when his aid de-camp dismissed us Thus, then, did he who flattered himself (as many others have foolishly done) that he thoroughly knew Ireland, go away-leaving behind him not only a prac tical admission that the local magistrates were in the right, but in his first moment of ang e r, when called up and shown the devastation which had been committed, he had fully admitted the error he had been guilty of in thus blam ing those who were correct after all. The levee was, of course, adjourned sine die, while the Clare authorities, hav ing thus triumphed, doubled their exertions, and, by good manag e m e nt and a proper degree of severity, mingled with strict justice, soon after succeeded in putting down the Terry Alts" without the assistance of a Waterloo hero! THE COLLEEN BAWN. THE powerful novel entitled "The Collegians"-the work of Gerald Griffin -not only made a great impression at the time when it was written ,' but has since been revived by its having been dramatized by more than one author, and in its every shape become a popular play-the most successful edition or adaptation being that of Dion Bourcicault, who, with Mr. Webster, produced it and played in it, at the New Ade1phi Theatre, above 300 nights consecutively,


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 65 and thus made the unhappy story, under the title of the "Colleen Bawn" a household word in the mouth of every Londoner. This unequalled popularity naturally introduced it throughout the provinces, and so general was its production, that I feel certain there are but fow-very few-who have not seen or heard of this most charming and successful drama. The plot of the stage version is, however, very, very far from a correct one, as regards facts. The poor girl whom Bourcicault styles the Oolleen Ilawn was too surely destroyed, and happily the hero of the melodrama, as well as his servant, were brought to condign punishment Nor can the correct tale be even gathered from the original tale by Griffin The work in question, written by him, was brought out within ten or fifteen years after the murder, and consequently the author was compelled ingeniously to alter the true facts, the less to wound the feelings of the culprit's family, who were then alive, bearing a high position in the city and county of Limerick. Lest some who still bear the name may yet sunive, ahd feel annoyed at a reiteration of facts-naturally distressing to their feelings-I will pas over the early facts of the case, and maintain a strict silence ttiuching those motives which led to the act of horror. A true r e velation of them might involve the names of two noble families, who, though of course in no way implicated in the crime, or cognizant of the unhappy circumstances which led .to the imm0lation of a good and most inno cent ghl, might yet feel wounded in seeing their names once mor e appear con nected with the fearful story. As, however, I look upon the capture and punishment of the criminals as one of V okes's most talented acts, I quote the story-omitting the names (as I said before) of those who might feel annoyed at being thus once more dragged forward, and only commence the sketch where the g e neral editions of this tale encl, i;iamely, some dix weeks after the murder had been comm'itted. We will therefore open the present narrative at this period, laying the scene in the beautiful and picturesque village of Glynn, where the unhappy girl had resided ever since her elopement with Mr. S --, who had now, however, almost quite forsaken that place-being deeply engaged (as it was said) in endeavouring tu obtain the hand of one of the noblest and most virtuous maidens that graced the Ilritish peerage. Eeily O'Connor had quietly quitted S--, who however still retained, I be lieve, his cottage at Glynn, and left his confidential servant, a certain Sullivan, in charge of it, who however, only remained there a few hours and abruptly left. The p"oprietor of the finest estate in the neighbourhood, and the master of all the soil around, was the then Mr. Fitzgerald, who boasted the honour of bearing the style of" Knight of Glynn,''-one of the two oldest titl e s in Ireland. The knight was, of course, a magistrate for the county, much respected and liked. But to return to my sketch. The servant man, in that sort of confidence which is ever affected to spread a tale, informed the gossips that Eily had never really been the wife of Mr. S--, but that he had been deeply attached to her, and lest he might legally marry her, his family had insisted on his sending her off to America; and that she had gone there some ten days before with one hundred pounds in her pocket. The man graphically described the parting, and as the possibility of such an emigration had before been hinted at, the statement was readily received and believed. Some six weeks later the inhabitants of a few cottages near Glynn were horrified by seeing a female body washed on shore by the rough waves of the Shannon-which is here above a mile in width. To recognise it was impossible, and its identity appeared lost, skce it was a


Arrahna-Pogue, ( A1Tah-of-.tfte-Kiss}; mere torso, or' trunk ; the head had fallen off al 1 the limbs were gone-the outer dress had disappeared,. an d the pr<>sent remnant of humanity was only preserved and held together by a pair of strong though old brown jean stays. '17he trunk was at once conveyed to the dead-house of the village, in orqer that every one might see it--but not with the slightest hope p f it. s being recog nized. Of course all the females and the male idlers in Glynn went to sec All looked at it, shook their heads; and turned away fr q m it in horror. Al though, truth to tell no one suspected foul play, the general belief that some unfortunate female had fallen overboard,, and that the l engt h of time she had lain in the water had thus d est royed her form. Amongst otheis who v isited the dead house was an old crone who only occa3ionally visited Glynn. The instant she beheld the remains she exclaimed," God be good to us! By .the Virgin, that is the body of Eily--!" Th e persons around h,er je e r e d at her, and r e minded h er tauntingly, that the young girl she mentioned had gone to America. But no power could shake the opinion she formed, and she went straight befor e the nearest magistrate (th e late knight of Glynn,) one of the most up right men that ever liv ed, and reiterated h e r statement. Upon what gnrnuds do you bas e your assertion?" "Sure it's 1 no assertion, but positive truth.',' "Why do you say so 1 The trunk of one individuail closely r esem bles an ot her; then why say that this is the body of Eily .--?'; "l ll tell yer honou:r. About two months ago I got me a piece of printed chintz, and Jr ant ready to swea r that the likes of it did not exist in Ireland. It was not only peculiar in its pattern but in its colours." B ut what has all this to do with the matter?" "Faix, then, l'tn coming to that. May the saints never look down on m e, 1 mt the stays in the d e ad house are patched with that same chintz which I sold : to pom Eily Your honour, I'll take my oath to its being the truth." Now this was a trivial circumst ance; but the knight thought it woi;th while : instantly to ride into Limerick, and into that city he caused the old woman to be marched between two polic e meu, then and there to be examined by the Chief magistrate of the police, Thomas Philip Vokes, who cross-examined woman in every way ; bu,t she was firm to her evidenc;e. Lest, howeve11, she might be tampered with, tbe wo11thy magistrate caused h e r to be detained ahd carefully watched. Vokes, as I said b efore once on a track, sifted everything. The vess e l in which poor Eily sai'd to have sailed, had now No such per son had gone out m her. About seven weeks before, and about the last time she had been noticed, she : had been seen going out in a rowboat with Mr. S-and his servant Sullivan; furth er inquiries suggested the fact that cri .es for h elR had been heard in the direction of a neighboring island; while one party distinctly swore that h e saw ; the boat re.turn with the tw@ men but no woman, and had even asked about the C ircumstance from Sullivan, who told him in reply, that h e and his master 1 had taken the girl on board of one of Spaight's ships, and l e ft h er. Nothing could be more plausrble, nor probable, and until the discovery, liad been made that she had never be e n on board that vessel, the fact did not apRear suspioio 'us. these circumstances, warrants against Mr. S--and his servant livan were issued But ithe first was not be found, and the second 4ad gone to America. Of < this there was no doubt.


Or, The Wicklow Wedding 6 7 The chief magistrate of police and the knight trieJ to apprchcnJ the missing g e ntleman, but without effect. lt is true, he was known to be lurking in the country; but secreted and pro tected by his powerful relations, the task of seizing him seemed to be impos sible. Several well-planned attempts at capture signally failed, and months rolled on before anything :!ould be done It was a dark evening when the knight, walked into the residence of Major Vokes, and il1 private made him a communication on the subject; the latter at once called out a troop of dragoons, and took with him a dozen mounted policemen. At their head rode the two magistrates They proceeded at a brisk trot towards the residence of Mr. M--of S-, one of the most independent and influential men in the county of Limerick As Major Vokes rode through the park he spread the dragoons round the house, and communicated 11is directions to the officers He then gave a loud knock, the door was opened, and the funct.ionaries instantly ran into the dining-room There some ten or twelve gentlemen were assembled, and on the left of the host sat Mr. S--. Jn a moment they rose and would have fallen on their intruders. S-already prepared for flight, when, drawing out a double barrclled pistol, the chief magist1ate pointed it at the head of the accused I<'itzgerald did the same. "There is no use in violence, gentlemen," said the former, "opposition is out of the question I arrest Mr. S-on a charge of murder, and whoever re sists the capture docs so at his peril. lt is no usc looking towards the door or the window; the hall is filled with police, the whole house is surrounded by dragoons I arrest tho prisoner, and shall instantly take him off to Limerick." And do you think this conduct gentlemanlike 1-to -enter a person's house and drag off his guest ?" "When that house becomes the refuge of a murderer, courtesies cease; there is no use in bandying words Were ho in the Pope's dormitory or the sanctuary of Westminster, I would equally drag him forth. Come, eir. SeTgeant Reedy put on the handcuffs. In these .oases there is no respect to persons. Captain, have the goodness to let your troop mount at once; we must not lose a moment in reaching Limerick. Bo good enough to order your men to load their pistols and keep close to the policemen. Gentlemen," said he, turning to the murmuring party around him, you see there is no hope of a rescue. Let the law, I beseech you, for once be executed without the shedding of blood." By this time al was ready,and in two hours more Mr. S was a prisoner in the old gaol. Many of his friends had followed him at a distance; but the force which Vokes's foresight had caused hi.m to take wi'th him was too imposing to be lightly attacked. A few days later Mr. S-was brought to trial; an overwhelming mass of evidence brought forward clearly proved him to have been the actual perpetrator, or immediate participator, in this brutal murder. As we shall have again to recur to these d e tails,. it is unnecessary to give them here; suffice it to say that the jury urihesitatingly pronounced him guilty At the same moment a post-chaise and four galloped from behind the court house, in which was seated a county magistrate The carriage took the road to Dublin; simultaneously another similar equipage started from Moriarty's Hotel, also bound for the capital. They reached it in the morning. The one traveller sought out the Lord Lieutenant, the other the Lord Chan cellor. Each of these functionaries was earnestly appealed to-" the honour of a noble family,'' "the improbability of the case," "only supported by c ir-


68 Arrah-na-Pogite, ( Arrah-of-t!ie-Kiss); cumstantial evidence," and a thousand other reasons were urged for extending mercy to the prisoner. But the prayer of each was firmly refused, and the disappointed petitioners roturned to their hotel, where they wrote for further inAuence. Twenty-four hours later the carriage of a most popular nobleman-bearing an Earl's coronet sought the high authorities ; but no audience could be granted Tlie law rnust take its course." In the meantime the prisoner went on laughing and joking, apparently amused at the preposterous idea of his having committed such a crim e He seemed wholly unconscious of his dreadful situation, and in this lin e of conduct he was, in all probability, supported by his proud relations, as well as by a thorough belief that he would receive a reprieve On the mornir1g of the day appointed for his execution, the sub-Sheriff and thP. Chaplain visited him, and showed him there was "110 hope." He must die! S-appeared somewhat terror-stricken, and begged to be left for a few moments to pray alone. This was accorded him. But on the return of the functionaries they found his eyes starting out of his head, and his cheeks flushed. He had swallowed laudanum; but in such a large quantity as to stupify, not kill him. The usual modes were exercised to empty his f?tomach, imd in a short time he was out of danger. Who gave him this poison he never divulged. In consideration of his connexions, he was allowed to proceed to the gallows (about a mile and a-half off,) in a post-chaise drawn by two black horses, the property of Mr. Denmeade, an undertaker. These horses were usually accustomed to draw a hearse; they were extremely quiet and gentle creatures. The crowd was immense, and as S-stepped into the chaise a shout of execration rent the air; but Major Vokes had so guarded the vehicle with police and troops, that there was no fear of a Lynch law attack on the part of the people, or a rescue on the part of his friends. The horses walked on steadily till they came to tho foot of Baa.l's Bridge, which spans a fast-running branch of the Shannon. Here they came to a dead halt, and neither whip, spur, nor stick could induce them to move farther. That "no horse will draw a rnnrderer across a running stream" is a strong belief among the Irish peasantry, so here they believed that they had a proof vouchsafed by Providence, which none could doubt, of Mr. S--'s guilt; so now they would have torn him to pieces if they could have got at him. Jn the meanwhile every means (not omitting the burning brand, often used to start horses in Ireland) were employed. One horse, dowever, .Kicked himself out of his traces, while the other delib erately lay down and refused to move. Mr. S--wa'I requested to descend from the carriage, and with a pale face and faltering step he did so. .But on the whole it must be admitted he walked with tolerable calmness to the place of execution. Here no news of a reprieve met him, and as he ascended the fatal ladder he seemed to have resigned himself to his fate. He looked earnestly into the crowd and there saw many of his family. Their presence appeared to strengthen his resolution. The chaplain then came up, and besought him on the eve of eternity to con fess the truth. S--, however, again declared his innocence. All but the sub-sheriff (John Cuthbert) and the executioner had withdrawn, and the cap was drawn ov e r his face ; the former stepped forward, and, seizing his arm, said, "In anoth e r minute you will be b e fore the Judge who reads all hearts. Are you guilty?" "No!" replied the other, firmly, "I die innocent;"


Or, The Wicklow Weddi1ig 69 and with this falsehood on his lips he was launched into eternity. The world. will probable never again see such an example of family pride! For several months after the exec ution the most fearful denunciations were fulminated against those who had thus (as they said) sacrificed an innocent man. Major V ukcs and the Knight of Glynn were t abocd by half the respectable so ciety in Limerick. But the former was not a man to let anything drop, and while all supposed h e had forgotten the case, h e had sent out a confidential agent to N cw York, and found that Sullivan ( t h e servant) had returned from th ence to England. This was eno ugh for him. He despatched four o f his sharpest policemen to London, and in a f ew weeks Sullivan was safely l o dged in Limerick gaol. He was tried on the same evi dence as his master, was found guilty, and condemned tu die Now Sullivan "ivas a Roman Catholic, and very prop er ly believed that his best chance of h eavenly forgiveness was to make an ample earthly confession; besides which h e had no pride of family; so he sent for his pri est and th e sub Sheriff, and in their presence made tho following statement, whic h may be wrong in some minor particulars, as I hav e not heard of, or r ead of, this terrible murd e r for the last twenty years But I give the details as I recollect:"My master and I," began th e servant, "had agreed for several days to put Eily out of the way, and we only waited an opportunity. I was then and there to get 1 OOl. and a fr ee passage to America. Such was our bargain. Well, yer rivorenoe, it was a lov e ly eveninS' when my master propos e d to take poor Eily (for h e neYer called h e r his wife) out on the ri\er for a row. Not a1ipple wa s on the surfa.:ic, so we thr ee started together. I had a gun, as I said, to kill fowl, at the bottom of the boat. My mast e r brought his flut e which he played merrily as we skimmed along. There is a little island about four miles from beyond Glynn, and here the master landed, desiring me to tak e Eily a further row To this we assented, and away we went. When we were about 200 yards from the island I took up the gun and began talking about death. Oh, yer riv e r e nce, If ye'd heard her speak of it-had ye heard h e r call down bles. sinrrs on th e master! I raised the gun. 'What's that you're at; sure you'd not'\urt poor Eily, who prays for you every night ;' and she gave me the look ot an angel. The fallen one himself could not have harmed her. So 1 threw down the gun and rowed back to the master, and told him I couldn't, I wouldn't do it. '' Ufon this the master cursed me, and called me a coward, and threatened me if didn't do it; and said he'd do it himself, only he could not go to Amer iky as l could, and he offered me more money down, and swore he'd purtect me, and all that. "vV ell, at last l jumped into the boat again, and as soon as I got a few yards out I 11p with the gun, and, without looking at her, gave her a blow on the head with the gun stock which stunned h er; she screamed, and the maste r, ;who was watching us on shore, began playing the flute to drown h e r cries. I struck her two or three times, till I she was dead, and th e n 1 lifted her and threw her into the water I then took up the oars again, and was about to row for the shore, when she arose to the surface and the edge of the beat. By this time I f elt more like a tiger than a man, and 1 smashed her hands all to pieces with the oar. She let go her hold, and slowly sank But as she died she gave me o'ne look oh! such a look-it haunts me at night-it pursues me in my pleasur es "Even when I drink to drown r e m e mbrance, I see that last glance of p(Or Eily's. The mast e r sent me away soon after But I could not travel from her last look-[ even fancy I see it now. I

Arr.ah-na-Pogue, ( Arrah-of-the-Kiss); never wavered in a single particular. On the way to the gallows, he tll'rned t o the officer who guarded him, and declared that since he had confessed Eily had appeared to him no more, and on this fact he built his hope of being forgiven. 0 n the scaffold he acknowledged his guilt, and confirmed iill he had J previollsly stated. At the last moment the priest said to him-" You are about J;o enter into eter nity. Are you guilty i Did Mr. S-plan and assist you in the crime "As I hoped to be saved, he did!" and the next moment the culprit had ceased to live. I have here endeavoured to sketch as correctly as J could the facts of a case which ever be remembered by the inP,abitants of Munster. Many versions have been put forth, but I feel confident that mine is nn exact and un biassed statement. All the parties interested and engaged in this fearful affair have, I believe, passed away. "May they rest in peace!" TRIED AFFECTION. "I HAVE asked you, my dear Vokes, to call on me, in order to consult you on an affair of some least, as far as my family circle goes, said L. D.-to the chief magistrate, as that functionary entered his counting hous e Indeed! If I can be of any: service pray command me." "You rememqer Mary Toovey, whom you recommended me as a trust worthy girl to assist in looking after my children some six years ago?" "I remember her well. Her father was an honest fellow in Adare. His daughter was brought up at P.'s Sunday-school." "Most true; and until within a very few days I always l ooked upon her as one of the best behaved young women I have ever met with.', "And you have had reason to change your opinion of hed" Unfortunately I have. You mm;t know"-and here L. D--dropped his voice. "Unfortunately, I say, I discovered that I had been systematically robbed of a series of small sums, and, watching closely afterwards, I still perceived that these pilferings unhappily continued. It could only be some one under my roof that thus abstracted small sums; and as I have a sts.ble -boy of some what loose habits, I at once suspected him, and accordingly I marked some pieces of silver and placed them with two or three one pound notes in my drawer, leaving my keys, as if by accident, on the table. "Having thus laid my plans to entrap the thief, I went out to dinner and returned too lat e to make any search that night. "On the following morning 1 went to the place where I had deposited the cash, and here, to my great horror, I found that a bank note and three half crowns were missing. Without telling them why I smmoned them, I ca lled up my servants, and havin g l ocked the door, stated to them what had occurred, and called on the pilferer to confess the crime, and thus earn pardon. "None, however, admitted the guilt, and I now, with their cheerful permission, proceeded to search them. "Imagine, my dear Vokes, my horror, when, after vainly searching the &ervan, t man and sqme of the females, I turned to your protege, and having ordered her to display the contents of l;ier pockets, I discovered two of the half crowns which had marked, and could now distinctly swear to. I called upon Mary to exp l ain this strange circumstance. I eagerly demanded to k,iow how she h ad become possessed of them. But, alas! all in vain. ,She was rf


Or, The Wicklow Weddin g 71 d,readfu ll y agitated, and was only r e lieved from a fit of fainting by a copious H oo d o f tears which came to h e r reli ef. u Sh e i s now downstairs in charge of a policeman. I 1 wished if possible 10 avoid the pain o f sending h e r, whom I have known for so many years, to prison, and th erefore I wrote to ask you to call on me, ilrtd if possible, assist me in dis covering the particulars of this distressing affair." "Ras she had any followers-male or femal e?" "None "Has s11e eve r absented herself away from th e house?" N eve r." "Does your family know what has passed 1" "No ; they are all at Kil rush, with the e xception of my eldest son, whu as sists m e in business, and he w ent last eve ning to Waterford, and will not return before four o'clock So, strange to say, not a soul is aware 0f the discovery I "-C a ll in the girl-le t us examine h e r together." The poor c ulprit came in, more d ea d than aliv e Whe n she saw Vokes she covered h e r face with her hands and burst into a flood of tears. For several mome nts she was so convulsed that even the stern magistrate hes itnted to address h er. At l e ngth, after causing h e r to b e plac e d on a chair, and having swallowed a glass of \Yat e r, she became ca lm, when he thus spoke:-"Mary T ou v ey, I am summoned here to interrogate you relative to a rob bery whi c h h as take n place in this hous e ; and as part of the money, marked for the purpos e o f d e t ec tion, was found upon you, I have every reason to believe that you are guilty." I am ind ee d I am. l am a wretched. girl, sir," cr.ied the prisoner ihrow. ing herself on h e r kn ee s b e fore him. And yet, r e ligiously and well brought up, I can scarcely b elie;ve t hat you could have acted so base, so ungr ateful a part, as thus to rob your employers. I would rath e r have suspected any one in the house than you." Oh, sir, ind eed sir, it was I. I am a wicke d bad girl, and I confess the crime." "Are y o u sure that no one instigated you-no one advised y.pu to commit this robbery 1 "No, sir-no one It was all my own doing." "And still I think it is my duty to inquire furtHer. I will, if possible, dis cover your accomplices ." have none-I alone am to blame." The worthy merchant now chimed in: "Mary, I am told, by Michael the groom, that he saw you two nights ago talking with a strange man in the gar den." It's false-it's false." "Have you mentioned this to any one 1" asked Vokes of L. T "To no one." Vokes again turned to the girl, "Are you still determined to admit y'our guilt r She had now recovered hei: calmness, and answered firm1y, "I am!'? Do you k1'low the consequences 1 Do you know that if found guilty you will rec e ive a fearful punishment?" "I do." "And still to save yourself you will not betray your accomplices i" I hav e non e I alone am guilty-I confess it :'' "Take h e r away, serg ea nt. I must inquire into ithis .affair;" and trembling far less, se e mingly relieved at'having thus unburthened her consciene, the wretched girl was led away.


72 Arrah-na-Pogue; ( Arrah-of-the-Kiss) ; When she was gone, the Major turned round and addressed his friend If you do not insist on it, I will not". commit this girl till to-morrow. In the m ea ntime we may discover her accomplic es It's very strange-very! But ; by George, I can't believe Mary to b e guilty." r 0wn. admission-the money found on1her ?" "All true; such proofs sl:iould be convincing; but still I am not sati ea. Do me a favour. Come you, and .your sou, to dine with n;ie t o -day, at. six o'clock, and we'll talk it over; but mind, don't mention the circumstanpe to a single soul on earth-'not even to your own son. Don't write it to your fami ly: 1)-nd if any one asks you for Mary, say she's gone to Adarc to see her fri ends Pray do this, and you )Vill oblige me." "Certainly you make a stravge request; but I'll strictly p.ttend to your diand be at yout house, with my son George, at six. Perhaps it will be \ b etter; for my wife and daught e r, and even George, who is generally very dis( tant and haughty, is very partial to the girl. I can assure you, Maj0r, we have treated h e r rather as our c hild tlian our servant, wl;iich makes her conduct the more detestable." "True for you; but now, adieu. Rememb er six, and silence." And off went th e police functionary towards his office. O P arriving there, he called for Macdo nald, a young policeman whom h e oftei} entrusted as a messenger. You took a note from me to young Mr. D--, some evenings ago, relative to lending hiru a hunte11 Is it Mr. George you mean?" "I do." I "We ll, sir, I it to him, and he said there was no an:>wer." "I am aware of that. where di(l you find Mr. George ,?" "In th e billiard-room bey out-in George street." "And what was he about?" "Well, your worship, I can't say; I didn't much observe. But I saw him drinking and smoking." Was he betting ?" Ah, th en, Major, I can't say surely; but I think h e was, for one of the young officers from the barracks called out and said, You've lost, George ;' and so I suppose h e was, your worship." That will do," said Vokes, ai'td then proceeded to try one or two cases of drunkenness ahd riot which we1e brought b efo re him for jdgment. Presently h e "Ot up, and putting on his hat, h e strolled leisurely up George-street. On arriving in front of Mr. S.'s shop-at once a place for r e freshment, .the supply of tobacco and punch, with a oilliard-room attached-he turned in, and after partaking of a sandwich, he carelessly asked the female who was at that instant serving b e hind the counter, whether Mr. G. D--had been in lately. "Not since yesterday morning.'' What did lie call for th en' 1" He came to get some cigars, as he was about to go out of town; and he left a poundnote with 1he to hand to Captain D--, that he had lost on the races." "Have you got that pound-note 1" "No, sir," replied the girl, who seemed startled at the inquiry. Did h e pay you for the cigars ?" "He did." How did he pay you ?" "With a half-crown piece '." Have you gott that half-crown ?" "I believe it's still in the tobacco till. I hope, Major, it's not a bad one; it


Or, Tlie Wicklow Wedd ing. 73 may bring me into troubl e And fearful of being mixed up with the trans act ion, s h e examined the till with anxious care, and at l engt h trium p h antly pulled out the piece of money in question. "Here it is, sir; sure I didn't know it was bad, and I'm sure Mr. George didn't. H e re it i s." And she it to Vokes, who, after peering at it with great c uriosity, put it int o pocket, and then throwing down two shillings a nd a sixpence, carelessly said" D on't yo u see, I suspect th ere's some bad money in Lim er i ck, so I'll tak e away this piece. But don't t e ll a livin g soul what l've clone or faith I'll h ave you up for a witn ess." This threat was quit e sufficient to r ende r the girl dumb. So Vokes, without furth e r conversation, walk ed up to his cottage, wh ere h e was carrying out some improv e m e nts. At six o'clock precis e ly, Mr. L. D--and his son arrived in George-street, and s hortl y afte rw ards partook of a most exce ll ent dinner, which I was lucky enough to s har e N o other guest was present, and all appeared in high good-humour, and drank their fair fill of claret before the punch apparatus was pla ced on the tabl e This don e Vokes d es ir ed the servant not again to disturb him till h e rang th e bell. 1 Well knowing the habits of the chief I saw that something was coming. "Mr. D--," said he, addressing his senior guest, "you ha'Ve now my per mission-nay, l may add, my request-to tell your son and my son-in-law h e r e of the dreadful occurence whi c h has taken place in your family." Th e worthy m erc h ant did so, in the faii;-est manner. I During the recital George D--appeared m ore agitat e d than I should hav e expected. H e evidently was dreadfully shocked, and seemed tQ bear a true affection, for th e poor girl, a nd as his father concluded h e violently exc l a im ed, "I am sure she is n o t guilty. I'll stake my life she is J)Ot." "Can you then point t o any other person as lik ely to hav e committed th ese robb eries ?" asked Vokes. Me? m e? certainly not. What I know about it?" Oh, nothing, noth'mg; only you are wrong thus t o acquit Mary without proof." "But I have proof. Her established good character, the manner in whi c h she has proved her worth and respectability-" "Are strong, I allow ; but in face of h er own admission, and the evidence against h er, will avail h e r but littl e ; she will be c9nvicted." Oh, don't say so." "Unless, ind eed, you can give us any clue to the real thief." P oor George seemed dreadfully agitated. He was evid e ntly fond of the unh appy girl. H e suddenly asked" ls there no w ay of getting h e r o ff; can you not aid h er to escape; my father shall pay all e xp e ns es Bt to convict poor Mary would for ever stain the character of our family." I can't see that, Georg e ," chimed in his father. "Nor I," said Vokes; "but let7 us change the subject. I hear you lost at the late races 1" The young man, seemingly thinking of something else, lll:erely uttered, "Didi?" The father appeared astounded, for h e had ever considered George to be far too rigid in his moral principl es thus to have gambled on the turf.


74 Arrah-na.Pogue, ( Arrak.of the.Kiss); "You did,'' went on Vo' kes; "Betsy, at Goggins, gave the pound note you left for Captain D--." The detected sportsman was now all attention,..; his agitation was frightful. you seem J;mrprised at my know leage. I'll tell you more. 'You bought some cigars at he same time, and paid for them with this half-crown, a strongly marked," added Vokes, ns he partly p roduced it, but cmefully s11rouded it with his hand. What's that you say?" said. L. D--. "Nothing, all. But see, son is not. very well. has probably over excited himself. I'll take Him mto my dress111groom-adm1mster some restorative essence, anJ he'll soon be well. Nay, you must not, you will only d@ harm; see, he waves you off. Come, George, you'll be better presently ; come along," and he led the poor sufferer off. I need scarcely tell you that during the absence of his son and his friend .L. D--spoke but little. He adored his son, and thus to see him strangely attacked completely para lysed the old man. Five n-iinutes elapsed-ten minutes elapsea-and the anxious parent would fain have sought his child; but I gently q.etaineq him. In about twenty minutes Vokes again appeared, followed by George; who, though still pale, seemed to have recovered his strength, and in repl-y to his near relative's inquiries, assured him that "it was nothing. It had now quite passed awa-y." For about five minutes a gloom-a paiI)ful silence-hung over us all. This was abruptly broken by Vokes "'George and I have discovered the p'ilferer, Mr. D--, and I will be guarantee that you are never so robbed again." Was it Mary Toovey ?" "Decidedly not!" Who was it, then?" "That you will never know. It is sufficient to say he has peen punished and you are safe for the future." "But why, then, did the girl admit it1" "She best knows." I' "I shall closely cross-question her wh!ln I go home." "Then, indeed, you will not, for she is uow several -miles on her way to Dublin, where, well her have sent her tp Jive w.ith a ser vant -0f mine. 'You will see her no more !'" "This is very mysterious!" "And so let it remain; make any fuss about it, and the your garrulity will fall heavily on you. Let me beseeoh ,YOU never again to allude t0Jit; make what excuse you like for Mfiry's absence, but never hint at your first unjust suspicions." "By heaven lihey were! H&.rry, pass 'thP Hot water; we'll never allude to this subject again." If L. D. did not read the case aright, he indeed a liappy man. L. D. has been gathered to his fathers. His son George, who has settled in Dublin, married twelve months after his death a certain Mary Toovey--a gifl 1Nho, I believe, would willingly have given her life for him.


/ Or, The Wicklow W eddin g. 75 THE CHARMED BULLETS. As I came up in the steamboat from Kilkee with my friend Vokes, I could not h elp blaming him l in no measured terms, for the reckless manner in which he was in the habit of running into every dang er, and took this opportu nity of remonstrating with him, as I had only just heard tlmt two days before he had rode unarmed, and unsupported, save by a single orderly, into the middl e of a faction fight, and a notorious character, although h e full well knew that there were hundreds of persons engaged in that struggle who had privat e ly and solemnly sworn to take his life whenever an opportunity offered. And where fodeed could such an occasion so appositely present jtself as in the midst of a violent tumult, where no one could in particular be identified as committing a murder, since aU around was noise, riot, and bloodshed ? How foolhardy, then, must be the man who thus, as it were, purposely and knowingly braved a fearful doom. "Gi!Jgi mi gow !"-(a favourite t e rm of derision used by my friend) "Giggy mi gow Sure aint I here safe and unhurt, and why are you thus mourning and craning over me as if 1 was a corpse at your feet I Faith, your dull look and your lachrymose tone are both too melancholy even for a well conducted wake." But if you care so little about your own life, recollect you hav e a wife and children." "Bother, Master Hal. Don't l t e U you they W(m't hurt me." "But why. What prevents them?" "Well, then, I don't know. But perhaps it may be, because they think J have a charmed life." A charmed life? What do you mean Oh, it's very simple; I'll t e ll you. You must know that soon after I was appointed a magistrate l went without any fixed intent to a great cattle fair n ear Adare; here I found some thousands of farmers and others assembled, and here I h eatd all the usual coping and squabbling, the sure' concomitants of such a festival. Several people had been taken up for picking pockets, and some for J1orse -st ealing; one man had houghed two cows out of spite, while another had ridden off clear with a horse he had been allowed to mount, and had not yet been overtaken. 'fhe usual number of broken h eads had been patched up and bathed in whiskey, while one or two who had h ad their arms and legs broken h ad bee n carried off to hospital-in a word, it was a regular Irish fair, and I felt, as a magistrate, that before long my duties Would become onerous. I must tell you, h owever, that a short time before this l had been shot at, whilst sitting at table, and though the ball had passed between my body and my mrn' l was not touched, and that on another occasion I had an equally narrow escape. So the superstitious peasantry began to talk about my having 'a c11armed life,' and all that sort of nons e nse. "I might, however, have been about two hours in the fair when .a young r es pectably dressed farmer came up to me and challenged me to sell the mare I was riding. Now it so happen e d that it was the very thing I wished to do. So, afuer some apparent objections, I, with seeming reluctance, assented. The farmer r eq uired a short trial. This was but fair; so I got down and he was soon in my saddle. 'Walk, dr gallop him,' said 1, 'but do so along the road, and do not go beyond the stone which stands about 150 yards off.' 'Agreed !' replied the proposed purchaser and away h e went. He first pro ceeded gently, then broke into a trot. At this moment a policeman whisJ>ered in my ear-' Sure your worship, that1s J erry, the most clever hors e ro b ber in Ire land.' I was startled, and at once saw through th e trick, s0 1 roar e d to the rascal to come back, but such was clearly n o t his intention, for without turning his h ead he se t off at full speed. I called loud e r and loud er, and the crowd, who always favour a clever thief, cheered him for his activity. 1 seized a long


7:6 Arrah-na-Pogue, ( Arrah-of-the-Kiss); horse-pistol from the policeman's holster, and roared out that I'd shoot him if he did not stop. You'll shoot your horse, Major,' cried a bysta.nder, grinning. 'He's too far off by half,' added another. 'Could you shoot the moon?' screamed a would-be wit, and they all began laughing. 'Boys,' said I, I'll bring that fellow down. lt's tl'ue he's far beyond foe usual shot, but I'll hit llim. I won't kill him, but I'll hit him in the heel,' and instantly levelling the pistol I fired. In another moment, to the astonishment --I may fairly say the dismay-of the crowd, the fellow was heard to scream out, and, wit h a fearful bound from the saddle, he fell wounded on the l'oad, w bile my horse galloped on without a rider. "To depict the surprise of the people assembled would be impossible. The shot was at a range of 300 or 400 yards, made with an old police pistol and carelessly aimed. They could scarcely believe the evidence of their eyes. But when some of those who had run off to the spot, screamed out that 'Jerry was shot in the heel !' and when, on his being brought back, it was discovered that the ball had actually divided the tendon Achilles, their astonishment vented itself in loud exclamations-all declaring that it was a charmed shot-' that I was in league with certain nameless powers'-' that, faith, that same Major was something more thai1 a 1111.1:n.' In fear they shrank from me, and during the whole day not a soul would approach me; and thus it was my claims to the possession of supernatural protection first arose. Poor Jerry had three month's imprisonment, but he never murmured. He only blamed his luck in having these bad dealings with the devil. Another act, somewhat similar, soon after confirmed my demoniac character, and after all it has so aided me, although I have loudly disclaimed it and much dislike it, that I laugh at any threat they make." Arriving early at the cottage, and having nqthing else to do, we together took a stroll in the country-followed in the distance by couple of policem e n, a most necessary precaution, which had I been consulted I should certainly have doubled. After an hour's walk I felt thirsty, so we turned into the house of a small farmer, who professed to be a great friend of Vokes. Here I asked for a cup of milk, er buttermilk. But the worthy tiller of the land was far too hospita ble to hear of this; he insisted on my taking a piece of bread and cheese (for he was what is called a comfortable farmer) and a glass of cold whisky-and-water. After some objection I consented, and he went to the cupboard to take them out. Scarcely had he opened it, when Vokes suddenly called in the policemen, and desired them to seize the man. "Halpin, put handcuffs on that fellow, and take him across to Rathbane, while you, Reedy, search the closet, and bring all the contents with the prisoner." I stared with undisguised astonishment. The poor agriculturist turned pale, but held out his hands to be manacled without uttering a word. Sergeant Reedy now announced the contents of the cupboard-a piece of cheese and a loaf, half a bottle of whisky, a pack of cards, a prayer-book, and three pistol balls. Nothing more. "That will do," replied Vokes. Bring him along, and don't let him touch any of the things." I" was dumbfoundered. Why a civil and obliging peasant, on whom we had called by the merest accident, should be thus cruelly and savagely treated I could not for the life of me understand. I had seen the Major do strange things, but this beat all. Thus to disgrace a kinn and hospit able fellow, without any apparent cause, seemed the very height of tyranny, and I felt inclined, as I had been partly the cause of the man's seizure by visit ing his cottage, to remonstrate with Vokes. But then, again, I knew that he was a just man, and that he never acted harshly unnecessarily. And I also well knew he disliked Crflss-questioning, so I determined not to say


Or, The W-ickl.ow W eddin g. 77 a word till we were once mor e alone. In the meantime, I vainly puzzled my brain to pick out-either from the conduct of the man, his appearance, or the articles found in his safe-what pos s ibl e cir cumstance could thus have placed him in arrest. W e soon arrived, and Vokes proce e d e d to int e rrogate the prisoner; but not until he had summoned his secretary to be present-a somewhat unusual formality. But this he so far explained, as to state that as the affair was one in which he himself was personally interested, he wished eve rything to b e conducted as publicly as possible. So while the magistrate, hi secretary, and myself sat at the table, the prisor er stood, apparently in some agitation, at a short distance, surrounded by poli cemen. Vokes at once began. "Your name is Hayes-Tim Hayes, I b elieve?" "It is, your worship." "You are a tenant on the lands of Kilballycrow ?" "lam." "And now, my good friend, you nee d only answer such questions as you think proper, for I tell you fairly, if you say anything to crirninate yourself it will be noted down. Do you und ersta nd?" "I do, you.r honour. SLtre my foster-brother's an attorney." "How l ong have you lived in your present farm?" "Five years." "I believe you have no arms?" "None, Major. I'll sw ea r I have not a weapon of any kind." "I kn o w that,'' replied the fun ct ionary, quickly; "but your cousin Carmody has a fine long pistol ?" The pnsoncr turned pale, and rath e r stammered out, I b'licve he has-that is, I don't know." "Yes, you do, .Tim-yes, you do; for you've cast bullets for it." "The saints be good to us. Is it that, you mane?" cried the now trembling captive. "I nev e r cast any "Didn't you cast the three w e found in the cupboard?" Not I, then. Sure I don't know how it was done; them was brought m e by my cousin, and l eft there by accident ." Search the prisoner !" ordered Vokes. His pockets were rifled, and a produced. The man actually groaned with terror. What do you say now?" "Faith, I forgot it. Carmody must h ave put it there." Of what are those bullets made?" I don't kn o w," groaned the poor wret ch. "Yes, yo u do. Reedy, split one ot those balls and give it to me." This was done. "Exactly as I thought They are of silver-silver, Master Hayespure silver, and consequently meant for m e I have long known that Carmody has sworn to shoot me; and I also know that h e declared he'd get silver bull ets to shoot me, as I possess a charmed life, and no: h ing elm could destroy it. All this I knew ; but I was not aware as I am now that you were selected to cast them." Th e unhappy prisoner threw hims elf on his knees, and earnestly offered to con fess all. "Sure h e kn ew from the beginning that it would have a bad end; he felt everything was known to the magistrate; h e'd betray his companions; h e 'd do anything; but h e h ope d he would not be punished, as he only did it because the bad lot fell on him at a game of cards."


} 78 Armh-na-Pogue; ( Arrah-of-the-Kiss) ; Take him down to my office in William-street, and I'll see about it; all will depend upon how much you have to r eveal, and how far your truth may be re lied on." And as to that---." "Away with him," and the man still calling out for mercy, was hurried off. "Didn't I t ell you, Harry, I bore a charmed life 1 What do you say now 1 B e lieve me, the superstitious fear of his enemy is a better buckle r for a soldier to r e ly upon, than the best arm he himself carries. Come, my boy, the ladi es are waiting for us, andi we must really be punctual, or, after all, I may perhaps lose my charm !' RECEIVING RENTS. VoKES and myself were dining at the hot e l in Tipperary, when we were j oined by Mr. H--, one of the most intelligrnt members of the legal profes sion in Ireland who, besides his other duties, performed those of several first rate agencies i.1 Kildare, Queen's County, and Tipperary. The addition of this pleasant companion to our company gave great satisfac tion to my relative; and, indeed, I shared the feeling, when, warmed by a glass or two of punch, our friend poured forth a string of most amusing anecdotes. After an hour thus agreeably employed, the magistrate turned round, and aoruptly asked him" And what brings you here 1" I am come to collect the rents on the Kilbarry estate, for which I am the agent." "Are you going to try the experiment when the country is in such a disturb ed state 1 Sure, your life is not worth a days purchase if you do." "Oh, this is the third time I've done so, and h e r e I am, safe and sound. On the first occasion, it is true, I ran a considerable risk; but now I've no fear." How is that ?" Oh, it's a long story though a curious one, strangely illustrative of the Tipperary peasantry ; but-" Oh, let's have it!" Pray do," I chimed in. W e ll, I'll tell it you, for I think I can recollect all the circumstances. "I was barely three-and-twenty years of age, and wholly unacquainted this county, when I was nominated agent to the Kilbarry estate, a small but snug prop e rty, worth about IOOOl. or 1200l. a yeaT. When the first r ent b e came due, I came down to Clonmel, accompanied by an assistant, and at once demanded the sums in arrear. I was cooly but determinedly met by a general refusal from every one of the tenants. "It appears the lands had been lately sold; the farmers assured me that they looked upon the sale as illegal, and one and all declwed their consequent d e ter mination not to pay one farthing. They also added this comforting assurance, nam e ly, that though they did not wish to be uncivil, the sooner I returned to Dublin the sooner I should be in safety. My assistant, on this hint, at once fled, and on my appealing to a friend in the locality, he strongly advis ed me to do the same. "Nothing could be done on the spot, that was clear. The man I had taken with me would alarm others; indeed, I could better serve my cause in Dublin than in Tipperary; by these and other arguments, I was persuad e d to return to the Irish metropolis. Thence, a short correspondence ensued with the default-


/ Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 79 ers, but not one wavered. They again positively r efuse d to pay; and dar e d me to e nfbrce my claim. In the meantime, I found myself (wh at is call e d) fixed for the whole amount, and as I conld ill afford the l oss, I d eter mined, whether it cost me my life or not, to make one more personal Hav in g thus made up my mind, I sought out Charles Macklin a barrister; and a schoolfellow of mine. I kn e w he would do anything to serve me. After stating my case t o h:im h e for a few mom e nts remained in silent doubt, and seemed m e ntally to ca nvass some id ea At length he turn e d round and abruptly exclaiimed,1 'Yes,. you shall hav e it; it is the only way.' I look ed puzzled. "'Yes, I'll give you a lette r to the only man in the whole wm1ty who can assist you. But if I give you this introduction, you had b e tter be guided by his advice.' I will,' said I ; but is your fri e nd a magistrate?' "'By no means,' said Macklin, smiling. I am about to pre sent you to Bill Quiglan.' 'What?' c ri ed I, staTting up wi t h astonishment, Bill Quiglan, the supposed murd e r e r, the most d SJ?erate man in the county?' "'The same,' r ep lied he, coolly sitting down and writing a short note, which h e ca r e full y sea l e d. 'The same; if h e ca nn ot assist you, none can. Keep how eve r, your own couns e l, and sec him, if possible, before it is k'nown that you are in the com:iriy. Good lu c k t o you-good bye.' H e handed ,llle the l ette r, and I took my Iea-ve. I went down by the then night mail, and, k ee ping close, mad e myself acquaint e d with the l oca lity wh ere my redoubted friend r es ided. I ordered a covered car and as the evening shades closed in, I started. "In the middle of a wild bog stood the cott age I sought-a more exposed, a more d esolate sfot I never b e held. But I boldly kno c k ed at the door, and, lifting the latch, ente red. 1:he whole dwelling consisted of one room. Ov e r the ftieplace a well-kept long duck-gun was suspended, and a brace of' pistols served as a further ornament betw ee n the bed and the chimney corner; a pit c h fork was thrown careleesly against th e wall, and everything denoted w a rlike defenc e in case of atta

, so Arrali-na-Pogue, (Arrah-of-the-Kiss); "'Arrest Tim :Macarthy, the chief t e nant!' "' Macarthy? He has several labourers; he is well lodg eo, and I f eair f can find no bailiff to und e rtake the job. Why he is the most lawl ess of the lot.' That 's true for you: not a soul would dar.e to try it. That's the man-h e should be seized.' "'The n what am I to do?" "' Charles Macklin is your friend : it is sufficient-I'll seize him myself.' "'What assistance will you r equ ire?' "'None : they'd be bold m en, and bad ones too, who'd offer resistance to, Bill Quiglan, of Ballybeg. Sure you have h eard of me before-have you not -or else why do you thus come to me?' r "'We ll, Bill, it is true have heard,' and here I began to speak in a some, what nervous manner, 'I hav e h eard that some years ago you had the misfortue to-that is-' "'Out >yith it-;:clon't stammer or. mince the matter. You've h ear d I mur dered Tim Dooler-sure it's secret-all th e country rang with it--.'..-a.nd I must admit that the jury brought in a fair v e rdict when they pronounced me guilty. It's well for them I considered it so, or some of them would not riding about th e ir farms at this moment. I had no right, you see, to punish the m for a just verdict.' "'But if you were convicted how did you get off'?' Ah<, then, you might have guessed it from the way ill which I treat Coun sellor Macklin's note. Didn't h e find a flaw in the indictm e nt, or some such thing, and by his exertions didn't he get me off clear and clean-so there. was an end of that affair.' My looks plainly expressed my horror and astonishment. This h e at once perc e ived. "'You now know why I'd lay down my life for Charley Macklin-may Provid ence bless him Faith, I'll be true to him as steel. And as you are his frie nd, I'll go through fire and water to serve him; SQ you needn't fear me Though, faith, I believe you are about the only man in the county that does not. Sure, I'll seize him, and lodge him in Cashel gaol.' "'I'm much obliged to you ; but even th a t \von't do. He must appear in Dublin, and I fear it will be impossible to convey him "'That's true for you; they'd n eve r allow it. Bedad the boys are true to the cause. It's not a stranger th ey' d alluw to carry off one of therrse lves. Your only way will be to apply for a large detachm ent of soldiers and police, and march him off. Faith, they'll have a rough walk 0f it; and it's not so sure they'll get him to Dublin after all. "'Right, Quiglan ; but cannot you suggest any othei: mode?' 'Hould your tongue for a minute, and l e t me think." "He pondered while taking three or four whiffs of his pipe, then suddenly turning round, he asl

Or, q'he Wicklow Weilding. "'Willingly'.' "' Well then, give me the writ.' "' I produced several. 81 "'This one will do,' said Bill, selecting the writ against Macarthy; and now be off, and if any one stops tell him you are 1 a friend of Bill Quiglan. Don't be late in Cashel; I'll be there before five. Good night;' and he closed his door as I drove off to Tipperary, wondering whether my new friend could :really carry out his promises. "I arrived on the next evening, about five o'clock, at the inn in Cashel, and learnt that a person had called and ordered a car for himself and a frie nd to pro ce e d to Clonmel at seven o'clock. "' Do you know who the person was?' Aft.e r a moment's hesitation, he replied, 'It was Bill Quiglan, sir; he has brought a prisoner, whom he wishes to convey to Clonmel, where the assizes are going forward.' I felt surprised, and almost feared treachery on hearing that he had thus publicly proclaimed our intended departure; but as it was now too late to re trace my steps, I made the best of it, and sat down to a hurried dinner. This was scarcely over when my bold companion was announced. He was dress e d most respectably, and assumed an air of g e ntility and confidence which I had not p e rc e ived on the previous evening. "'Well, sir, when you are done, we will, if you please, at once start. I wish to get into Clonmel as early as possible,' and he gave me a knowing wink un perceived by the waiter. "I was going to say, 'Quiglan--.' "'Nabocklish. Run, Pat, and hurry the car Sure we're 'to go round by the gaol to take Macarthy up.' 'Well,' thought I, this man is the most imprudent fellow I ever met with,' and I loudly expressed the idea as the waiter closed the door. 'Whist! these walls have ears.' "'Yes ; but you don't understand. It's not-.' "' Ilisht faith, do you take me for an omadawn. All's right; you'll see pres ently;' and without allowing me again to speak, he desc e nded with me, and jumped on the car. Within a quarter of an hour we were clea r of the town, with Macarthy seated beside me well secured. "In silent astonishment we drove along the road, with which I was thorough ly acquainted, and could not h e lp fancying that I was betrayed; indeed, I had begun mentally to reproach my folly in having thus trusted myself in the power of such a villain, when sudddenly Bill turned round and peremptorily ordered the car-driver to turn up a bye road. "'Sure that's not the way to Clonmel ?' 'I know that; but turn up--.' "'Faith, thin, I'll do no such thing. I was hired to go to Clonmel, and to Clonmel I'll go.' "'You know me, Thady Ryan; you well know that I value n man's life just as much as I do a dog's. Do you see this-and here he produced a large hors e pistol, which he presented at the man's h ead. By the heaver.s above me--.' "Ah, then, Bill, sure you wouldn't murder me? You know I'm sworn to go to Clonm e l.' 'Do so, then. Jump down; I'll drive. You may now walk on and t e ll the boys ; but, as I said befoTe, may the curse of Cromwell light on me but 1'11 blow your brains out if you mount a horse, or hasten beyond a walk, to inform your friends that we've changed our destination.' "The man sprang down, and scanned Bill from head to foot with a savag e glance, evidently weighing the chances of an encounter. But Quiglan's lo oks


82 .Arrah-na-Pogite, ( Arrah-of-the-Kiss) ; were now most strangely altered; he no longer wore a bland smile. His brow was contracted, his teeth fixed firmly, and as he followed the movements of the other ruffian, continuing to keep the muzzle of the pistol pointed at him. I never beheld so fierce an object in the course of my life. The hesitation lasted less than a minute; in that period the driver had slunk off, of his danger. Bill had seized the .reins, and was making the horse gallop in au op posite direction to that in which we had originally started. "We hastened on, in this way, for several miles; no person was visible. The cross road we were following was evidently unfrequented. At length I perceived a horseman in the distance, and mentioned the circumstance to Bill, who instantly handing me his pistol, desired me to point it at the head of the prisoner, and instantly to blow out his brains if he endeavoured tQ escape. I complied with the first part of his request; I much doubt, even in case of need. whether I should. have followed the second portipn pf his directions. "Presently the rider came up with us, his horse evidently much distressed by the pace he had been compelled to keep up. The man held a bundle in his hands, and as he approached us, roared out to us to stop. "'Not a bit of it,' growled Bill. "Sure haven't I brought some clothes for Mr. Macarthy, and I only want you to stop while I deliver them.' "'Not a taste of it, Tim Grady; and. what's more, if yon look at my friend on the car, you'll see he has the very pistol in his hand which sent your friend and namesake Tim Doolan into another world, and I've its own foster brother inside my waistcoat; and what's more, if you attempt to spake to the prisoner, I'll make short work of it. You know Bill Quiglan well, and you know he I never lies ; so be off wid you, or, by my soul, I may be tempted to try the \ little I have ready cocked in my breast. Be off wid ye; do ye hearr "The man looked at him, then muttering something in Irish, turned back. "' By dad, Tim, it's little I care for your threats. I'll come back, and you won't even dare to repeat the words you now utter, much more attack me. And now, sir, we must drive for our lives.' Couldn't you Rtop and ease my wrists a little; they hurt me very much,' chimed in the prisoner. 'Then by the vestments I won't, so you need try no tricks on me. Sure, don't you well know there are ten or twelve of the boys coming after us, and Tim only outstripped them by virtue of his horse's speed. Fait!1, I fancy I can almost hear them now.' We went on at fuU speed, and a mile further on, turned il)to an open and broad road. "We're better off now,' said Bill; 'but we're not safe yet.' Presently the noise of wheels was heard, and our bold driver shouted, 'It's all right now,' and stopped the car and having taken _bacl{ the pistol from me, began to help the prisoner down. At this momen't the Kilkenny mail, en route for Dublin, came up, to intercept which, had evidently been Bill's object. "'Stop! stop!' cried he, and having spoken to the gu ird, Macarthy and my self were soon comfortably placed inside while Bill followed in the car about two miles further on the road, when, the coach delaying for a few minutes at a rustic tavern, he commended his vehicle to the care of the innkeeper, promising to return for it in a few days, and jumped into the mail with us, which for.tunately had only our three selves inside it. "Bill was rather an amusing companion, and chatted away in high spirits, : nnd even Macarthy, seeing there was no use in being sulky, joined in our con wersation, and more than once shared a glass, m perfect good humour with his .captor. This in England would appear strange, but such conduct in Ireland is lby no means uncommon. in the morning we arrived in Dublin, and my friend was duly lodged


Or, The Wicklow Weddi1ig. 83 in prison. After a few days, seeing there was no hope, h e offered the amount of his overdu e rent. But by Bill's advice, I refused it, and insisted on his appearing in Court unless all the others paid likewise. After a short hesitation h e assented to this, and handed me th e full amount of claim, and succeed e d in getting his discharge. I joyfully handed Bill double the sum I had promised him, and from that moment to this, though I hav e frequently visited the estate, and collected the rents of Kilbarry, I have never been annoyed by incivility or default "'While as to Bill, I rathe r think his reckless boldness on this occasion has I!1ade him more popular in the county than ever. Of course I've changed some of the names; but to the truth of the circumstances I have narrated, I pl edge myself By George, you are a plucky fellow,' exclaimed Vokes, delighted with the :mecdotc 'l only wish you were a magistrate in our county.' What, to be shot at every night 1' "'Ah, now you are exaggerating. It's not so bad as that.' 'Do you mean to say you w ere never fued at?' 'Oh, as to that, it does sometimes happen : I was shot at last night within a mile of my own hous e By the bye, that r e minds me I must buy a new hat,' and h e displayed his old one with a bullet-hole through it. I stared with astonishment, for my fri e nd had actually supped with me immediately after the even t, and n ever alluded to it. "As I had had no startling hint respecting the da!lger I had myself personally run, I proposed to take a stroll, and then to r et urn to Limerick. We did !!O. Mr. H--s l ep t at Tipp e rary, and the n e xt day visit e d Bill, and Tim, and Ma ca rthy, and the r est of his now friendly tenants. "Certainly Ireland is a strange country ." THE MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. Vok es was seated in his office in Limerick, surrounded by policeman and clamorous applicants for jus tice, giving his orders and receiving reports, when a most resp ec table female drove up on an outside car, and requested to speak privat ely to the Major." In a few minutes the lady was shown in. After a a short hesitation, in some trepidation, she thus began" My name is--" "I know it--Mary Malone, of the small farm near Patrick's well." The same. I was not aware that you knew me? but oh, Major, I've brought you in bad n ews that you don't know. Sure my husband, Thaddy M lone--he's gone off and deserted me. He went last night." "Not so; he went on Monday last. Never tell me a lie." "Ah, thin, Major," cried the wretched woman-" ah, thin, it's myself that am so upset that I scarcely recollect the day.'' That's odd ; for you wrote a note on Tu esday to William Johnson, the wheel wright announcing the fact, and sent it by Paddy Rhu.'' The Lord be good to us!" almost screamed the unhappy female. You know everything. Sure it's true.'' And in that note you said you did not expect him back. Why did you think so?" To make use of a common English term, poor Mary was struck all of a heap, and she vainly tried to look calm; but being a strong-minded woman, and somewhat annoyed at the system of espionage exerc ised on her movements, she now r ecove red her spirit, and with boldness met the inquiring glance of the magistrate. Well, now, I'll tell you-of course it's between ouselves-it cuts me up to


84 (Arrah-of-the-Kiss); confess it, but as you insist on it, I'll tell the truth. I suspect h e has gone off with a hussey of a soldier's wife, whose husband is quartereC. in the Castle Bar racks." "Indeed What is her name? We'll have her arrested." Oh, thin, it's not myself that exactly knows it--though I thinJc he called h e r 'Ann.' As to following her, sir, that's out ,of the question, for they wen t off in a ship the very day to Americl,\." "My good friend, you mistake. Not a vessel ha sailed from this port to the United States for ten days.'' "Oh, thin, I can't be sure-and, ob, I hope I may b e iFor with all his faults, I lov e d Thady d ear ly. If h e don't comr. back, h eaven only knows who's to console me or tak e charge of the farm." "Wouldn't William Johnston do as much for you?" Mary Malone turned scarlet, but ere she had time to reply, Vokes again spoke. "Was not your husband a great drunkard?" "He was, your honour.'' "He sometimes got insensibly ?" "He did that same; but I lov e d hii:n .for all that." Did you ever quarrel?" "Oh, thin, why would we quarrel? "Well, I only asked you because I had hoped h e might ha,e l eft you in a fit of passion.'' "Ah, thin, perhaps it was so. vV e did sometimes h ave bits of difference.'' He accused yo u of preferring some one e ls e?" Faith he did ; but a bigger lump of a lit>, by--" Then suddenly lower ing h er tone, "It was all a mistake, for I l oved Thady dearly.'' I thought h e sometimes beat you?" Well, h e might; perhaps I d e served it. But I'll forgive him all if h e only come back to me.'' "You asked to see me; you now say you do not wish me to pursue him. What, then, do you want?" "Oh, thin, Major, I wanted you to come out and jus t look in on me, a1;1d show the n e ighbours by kindn ess that I bear a good character. For, sure, there are some of them huss eys who go the l engths to say that I'm glad that Thady's dead." "Dead?" "No, I mean gone away. By dad, I'd pitch them and the J ohnstons and all the world over Throw Hill to see my Thady r eturn. Ah, now thin, Major, will ye come?" I will. Remain you at home to-morrow, aud l'll b e with you in the cours e of the day, Mrs. Malone. We'll settle gossip.'' "Oh, thin, may heaven be gracious to ye; ye are i>lways kind. Sure, I brought in a small keg of butter of my own churning.'' I n ever take presents of any kind.. So, now, 11way; I'll be with you to morrow;" and away went the grass widow, ap2arently much pleased with the result of her visit. No sooner was the distressed lady gone, than Michy, one of Vokes best aids -if a rascaly informer who had hung his own brothei. on his fraternal evidence, and b e trayed a gang of some twenty ruffiaris, could be so designat ed-was called in to counsel. My little friend, who was Protrean in the forms he nssumed, was dresse d as a simple country boy; he had already been some time with Vokes before I e ntflred and had evidently given him important information. Now the re are stern moralists who may condemn this mode of obtaining


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 85 evidence--this horrible way of arriving at facts through the means of a wret c h oft e n unworthy of belief. Perhaps so to assist the efforts of any other man than my relative would hav e been dangerous, but th e deep search h e ever carried out to arrive at the real truth, the acuteness of his cross-examination, the stern certainty that if' de c eived h e would at once withdr aw his protection from the deluding party, which in effect would b e little l ess than delivering him up to be punished by the fri e nds of those whom he had b e trayed, kept these otherwise dangerous emissaries in the most wholesome check. While d etained by Vokes for purpos es of justice they were protected, clothed, and fed, and if after a time they could be spared, th e y were sent elf to America with a good round sum in their pockets. If they misbehaved, 01 indulg ed in falsehood, lync h-law w o uld soon be execu ted on them. No wonder, then, that th eir evidence, underwholesome examina tion, might prove us e ful. Of a ll those who h ad given evidence for the Crown, Mickey was the only one detained as a necessary spy, or, as we should more politely call call it in the present day, a detective, He was far too w e ll trained and taught to attemp t any d ecep tion. Whatever h e said might be reli ed upon. "And so, you ca n recolle c t the words that were posted up on the smithy beyond Rathbeale, last Saturday night?" I ca n,'' replied the other, looking at me most suspiciously. It's only my relative-go on." "Well, sir, I gave a shilling to Paddy Roony to drive his car for him, and by t h e same token he was so drunk he couldn't drive it himself; so I bought two noggins of whiskey, and I guv him one) yere honour ; and th e n I laid him down, and having put on his t op coat--for it was raining awfully-and having put o n his J e rs ey hat, I lays him in the car, and made a pillow of sods of turf for his head-for, faix h e seemed un common inclined to choke-and away I druv. On the way, who should I overtake but Bill Brophy, of Ballymondus." "'God save ye!' says h e 'Sure you'll give me a lift, Paddy Rooney, like an h onest boy ?' "'I will,' says I, stopping the ca r. "'Fait!' says he, 'you ain't PaJ.dy Rooney.' And h e wa>i a going to turn away. Stay, Bill,' says I. 'Ain't I all the same? Sure there's Rooney drunk in the car, and ain't I dri v ing him home? So jump up.' And with that up h e jumps. "'Bill Brophy,' says I, 'what mak es you away so far from your countyand where are you going?' "'Faith, then,' says he, the climate's b ecome rath e r warm down there, ever since somebody bough e d the Englishman's cattle. So I came down here, and I'm going to mee t some of the lads at the smithy beJant, if your blood pouy-bad lu c k to him-will only draw us ther e .' Oh, then, there's no fear of that." I now interrupte d Vokes, and as I had come purposely to fetch him, urged him to hasten his prolix informant. It wouldn't do,'' whispered he, if I didn't let him tell his tale his own way. I'd never get at the truth;" and then, turning to the informer, he merely said, Go on.'' "We ll, your honour, I soon pumped out of Bill-whose lips are like sieves through which everything runs-that a party were about to meet to form som e plans; but what they were he -\vas not quite sure. "' Nabocklish !' says he, 'you are a true boy, I believe, since you know m e I


86 .Arrah-na-Pogue, ( Arrah-of-the-Kiss) ; and my futber, though I don't recollect you; and if there's a loose share in the fun, you shall have it.' "'Thank ye,' says I. "Well, we came to the smithy, and there there was a large party, with lots of potheen. But as I see'd Ryan among them who might recognise me, I wouldn't go in, but sat outside. Presently I heard them singing and talking, and the smoke of tobaccy came out like the smelling of a rose; but then when I sniffed this, and the scent of the raal potheeu, it was as much as I could do to resist. But I had prom ised to wait for Brophy, so I thought it safest to remain quiet. In the song they sung th mentioned all the affairs they had been fo ; and John L(lary boasted 'twas he as settled : Fitzroy. But they all bragged of so many deeds of the kind, I didn't believe them." But the song-was it funny?" "Very; it was all about murdering the gentry, and getting the land to them selves; and they always wound up with some chorus, saying how they'd serve your honor." "Do you recollect? You said just now you did.'' "I do." "Repeat it, then." Well, Major, I'm not a good singer ; but the end of each verse ran thus :-There's Hoslf.ins is going, and Going is gone, George Lake and Tom Vokes are the next to come on. What do you think of that, Major?" Oh, if that's all you learnt, it was scarcely worth the trip. Lines-almost the same-were posted on the ion door where I slept at Kilmellock, and even on the Chapel door, a month ago." Ah, but I didn't tell you how I wormed out about Mrs. Malone from Bill Brophy." "And you are sure Johnston knows nothing of it?" "Quite; he's a real respectable man, and don't care a trawueen for the woman." Well, be off; I'll see to all this." "But Brophy, your honour?" "I'll have him taken within an hour, as you happen to fear him; but believe me, he'll never suspect you of giving evidence_ So now, go out the back way; I'm going with my friend for au evening's fishing on the falls of Doonas." And away we went. The next day Vokes, attended by an uncouth servant in livery, drove down to Mrs. Malone's. She received him with kindness, and warmly expressed her gratitude. She placed before him a plenteous luncheon, of which the good magistrate largely partook. His horse had been put up, and the servant now amused himself by strolling through the farm-yard, which closely adjoined the house. He seemed to saun ter about carelessly; but any one who had closely watched his eyes would have seen them wander around with piercing intelligence. Vokes, on his part, was no less busy. "What these close, though unperceived investigations meant, we shall see liereafter: Nothing could exceed the civHity of the functionary towards his entertainer, and he took down copious notes from her statement relative to the sudden disappearance of her husband. He shortly took leave of Mrs. Malone, who promised to be in Limerick on the followmg day to have her statement made out in writing and placed before the bench of magistrates, for the purpose of recovering, if possible, her errant partner.


. Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 87 Vokes and his servant, who was no less a personage than Mickey, drove back to Limerick, but few words passed between them. 1 "I think, Mickey, you are right. But if so, where is the corpse?" "I can't say, but I think I know. The dunghill has been opened and closed, but not enough to let in a body; it's that puzzles me. There's something too, I think, down the half-dry well. I'm sure there's something quite white at the bottom of it. But I'll go out again if you wish it, "No-it is enough. Did you observe, as I did, that the copper has been lit and the inside scoured since?" "I did; but-" "Neve r mind-that's enough. Did you pick up anything?" "I did ; this knife. It was hid behind the pig-stye." "Ah, it has been recently sharpened and used. You say that Bill saw a great smoke, and that there was a bad smell came from the malt-house." 1 "That's the truth." "Well, then, be ready to march with Sergeant Reedy at daybreak, and get b e yond Malone's cottage without being seen, and mind the instant the woman leaves get into the premises, and search every part. I'll give directions to th e Serjeant. So now jump off. Don't be seen with me going into town. I think we are on the right scent." Som e hours afterwards I went with Vokes to the theatre, where, to my great amusem e nt, Vokes was received with three groans by the people in the gallery, while I was loudlv cheered. I looked at my friend, who laughed heartily and bowed to them i and whe,n I timidly asked-I wonder why they cheer Sure it's because you are a stranger and in uniform. They'd cheer a certain old gentleman himself if he wore gold epaulettes. A voice, however, at this instant called on "Dirty Betty Carmody" (a most respectable serjeant in the militia, and the leader in the orchestra) to play up! and having compelled him by vociferation to sound Garryowen, they began screeching, lrnllooing, and beating time, till the wretched old tlieatre nearly tumbled about our ears. An lrish theatre some thirty years ago was, indeed, a strange arena, over which the "gods" themselves most arbitrarily presided. A revinir. 1 1 Next day, soon after noon, the interesting Dido, so cruelly deserted, drove up to the police office, and for a few moments Vokes treated her in a most courteous manner. Presently a message was brought in, and his whole manner changed. "Send in Smith and Macgrath." The a,ltered tone in which the magis tr,ate spoke, appeared to surprise Mrs. Malone. They entered. ATrest that woman !" Me? me, Major? What do you mean?" "I arres t you as the murderess of Thady Malone, your late husband." "What?" screamed the astonished female; you cannot mean it. It is impossible. I loved him dearly, and I am as innocent as you are; I swear by-D l f I' ,._" on't perjure yourse ve proo1s. That's out of the question," cried the prisoner, brightening up, for she had been deadly pale and awfully agitated, on the firs t accusation b e ing made. This, however, was no proo( against her. Any other woman would have been equally taken aback At such a dreadful -such an unlooked-for-accusation. r Sure he's gone, and far away by this time." "You murdered him, Mary Malone." "Where is your proQf?'"'


88 Arrah-na-Pogue, (Ar,rah-ojcthe-Kiss) ; "Bring in your parcel, Sergeant Reedy," who immediately opened it, and out rolled, to the horror of all around, a human head. It was bleached, and looked more like the head of a calf than of a human being. The woman could not repress a scream. "Is' that your late husband's head?" I don't know-no-no. l'm sure it is not." Sergeant, you knew Thady Malone; is that him?" It is, sil'; I will swear to it." Where did you find it?" "In the dunghill, in his farm-yard, close to the house. I had two witnesses with me." The wretched culprit sank in a chair; then starting up, she exclaimed, "But why say I had art or part in it? may not some one else have put it there?" and she looked round triumphantly. "Send the n ext constable in;" he bore a basket. "Sure it's an arm and a l e g I found in the old well, though how it came so white I can't tell." Bo you recollect Bill Brophy bringing your husband home on Monday afternoon very drunk, and that you plied him with liquor?" The murderess-for by this time it was tolerably apparent to all that she was so-shuddered. Faith, then," said Vokes, I'm about to commit you to gaol for the mur der of your husband, and to show you that I don't wish to entrap you, although it's unusual, 1'11 tell you all I know. I shall probably have more b e fore your trial, bu't in the meantime I tell yau so much, in order that you may make a good defence if. you can, and I only hope, Mrs. Malone, that as I've known you long, you may escape the dreadful doom, which, if guilty, you will not only de : serve bu.t suffer. "I have reason to believe that, being in love with another man, although that mum rejected your advanc e s you determined on getting rid of your husband." "Ah then, that's not true." "Silence and list en, or I'll say no more. On Monday evening last Bill Bro1 phy of Ballymeadows brought Malone home to the cottage in a state of intoxi cation; you plied him, as I have aheady told you, with liquor till he was sense .less; Brophy then left the house, but not the neighbourhood. He watched ; through a crevice in the door. The prisoner sighed deeply, No sooner did you think yourself unseen, than, taking out a knife you had 1 previously sharpened, and which I have here, you cut poor Thady's throat, tak ing care to catch the blood as far as possible in a fiat dining dish. This done. the man destroyed-you went into the washing-linney, [linney is generally ap:_plied in Ireland to any shed attached to the dwelling-house,] and here you lighted the copper fire-the boiler had evidently been prepared, for it was fill ed with water and the fuel ready. You then returned to the kitchen, and with :the hatchet, which you afterwards buried, and the knife I have got-cut up the poor fellow, and then boiled him piecemeal; look at the head and those limbs, and you will see that I am right." A groan of horror went round; all appeared shocked except the prisoner, .who maintained her calm demeanour. "At this dreadful work you remained till long past daylight, when Brophy -.went away." "Brophy's a perjured villain!" cried Mrti. Malone I remarked myself the newly-cleaned copper; there are some four drops of blood near the fire place, and I pocketed two buttons, torn from the poor man's ooat, while you left the room. In the meantime an active agent looked over the premises, and remarked that the dunghill had lately been disturbed. He


Or, The Wicklow Wedding also found the knif e and other trifles he will produce at the trial. In a word, Mrs. Malone, you murdered your husband whose head now li es before you; and boiled his mutilated r ema ins. Don't deny it, or you'll offend h eaven; don't admit it, or it will serve to convict you at th e assizes. So take h e r away, ser geant, and may h eaven hav e more mercy on h er than she had on my once hon. est tenant Thady Malon e ." Proved and convicted on th e very clearest evi dence, Mrs. Malone was hanged shortly aft e r the following assises. THE DEAD CAPTURE. VOKES had some business to Ennis ; so, without making any fuss, he ordered out his favol'ite nag, and wholly unatt ended, started fo1 that town early in the morning, desiring, for obvious reasons, that his absence should not be notified to any one who might happen to call. But what s h a ll I say to them 1" asked his footman as he was quitting the hall-" what shall I say 1'" Say I'm not visible." "But why shall I say you are not visible 1" Say 1 l' m engaged-ill-dead, if you like. But don't bother me." And springing into his saddle, h e dashed down George street, and was far on his journ ey before the rest of th e fumily were stirring. Accustomed, howeYer, to his freq uent absence from the breakfast table, the family sat down to that meal without making any inquiry, and the business of the day went on as usual. At about noon, a peasant, who it afterwards came from the county of Clare, ca lled, and asked to see th e master." "It is impossibl e ." 'Why 1 Sure I want to have spache of his honour?" Well, th en, I tell yau you And why not 1" persisted the other. "He's ill." "Oh, then, nev e r mind that F a ith, I'm sure if he's alive ne'e see me. Haven't I come all the way from Cratloe Wood-a good ten milesand faith I'm not to be sent back without setting eyes upon him!' "I tell you you can't see him." "Sure I'm Thaddy Watson; he knows JI).e well." "If you were his Holin ess the Pope, you could't see him." "Sure I must. Now let m e only have spache of him for a bit. In holy truth, then, I wont go away till I have--" "Once for all, b e off, for I t e ll you the thing's impost!ible !" "Impossible! And why 1" The servant was a bit of a wag. H e was angry and annoyed with the continuous pleading of the fellow. Beside s which, if the truth must be he want e d to get back to the kitcken, where his warm, comfortable dinner stood cooling ,and so d e termined at once to come to a conclusion. He quietly replied" Th e reason is very clear-he's dead !" and slamming the door to in the as tonished peasant's face he burst out laughing, and ran downstairs. The surprised countryman stood silent on the of the entrance With the usual cunning of a low lrshman, he began to canvass in his own mind the probability of th e news he had justheard being true or otherwise; and then, with a complacent grunt-uttered as if a good thought had struck him-he ran across th e street, and h e nce took a full survey of the house. Here he saw every blind down (the morning sun resting on the windows),


90 Arrah-na-Pogue, ( Arrali-ofthe-Kiss); and this bore out the correctness of the footman's statement-a statement which was still more fully confirmed when he saw two policemen turned away from the door; and, last of all, Mr. Denmead, the undertaker (who happened to have been sent for by Mrs. Vokes-he being a carpenter-to make some trifling repairs) entflr the house. With a look of mystic importance and delight, the Clare-man went off and fetched his horse and car, and without waiting to transact the business he had come about, set off in haste to announce the joyful news throughout a county which had long dreaded the power of the terrible Major. When the footman, some half an hour later, related to his fellow-servants the witty answer he had given, he was astonished to find they did not share the joke; far from it, they loudly blamed him, and foretold the serious scrape he had got himself into. John began to feel uncomfortable ; but as it was now too late to undo his folly, he wisely made the best of it, and went on cleaning his master's plate. Vokes in the meantime carried out the measures he came over to propose, and then dined at the house of a friend. It was dark when he started to return; but to this he did not object, as he was by no means anxious to be recognised; for the same reason he declined to be attended. The only precaution he took was slightly. to vary the route he had followed in the morning As he got a few miles out of Ennis, he beheld several large bonfires lighted on the hills, and he almost began to regret that he had left Limerick, as these illuminations were always used as signals for outbreak, or to telegraph some important news. Not far from the wood of Cratloe one of these fires blazed, and although it was somewhat hazardous to do so, our bold magistrate determined on visiting the spot and learning the origin of it. So he jumped off his horse, and concealing the pistol he carried in the hol ster that he now cast from him, he covered his chin with his muffler, put the hat straight on his head which he usually wore jauntily on one side, and changing his appearance and accent as far as possible, rode slowly up the ascent, whist ling the "British Granadiers." On his arrival he found an enormous fire, around which fifty or sixty people were assembled, smoking, drinking anii chatting. "Good evening to you my friends," crieCI the Major assuming to his own satisfaction the pronunciation and manner of an Englishman. How do you do, my friends?" The surprised peasantry started up, but seeing a single horseman, they again resumed their places, the neighbouring blacksmith calling out, Faith, what are ye after? What do ye want r Oh, nothing--nothing at all I only rode here to say I had lost my way in this confounded country, and wished to ask you which way I should go?" "And where are you going ?" "To the city of Limerick. I think you call it Garryowen in Irish." The people burst out laughing at thiR specimen of a cockney, and the word omadthawn (idiot) might be heard issuing out of more than one mouth, as they exchanged observations in Irish. Thin it's yere way ye' re asking?" "Well, that's all, I believe. I really should like to find it. I'd give a shil ling to any fine fellow who would tell me the way I should go ?" This new Cockneyism (as the Irish people call it) produced a fresh laugh, and seeing that the man was perfectly innocent, and a stranger, they asked the fool to partake of some of their cheer. He did so, and seemingly allowed the liquor to open his mouth, for now on his side he began to ask questions.


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. lH "%11 me, my very excellent friends, why have you lit up this very nice fire on the top of this bleak mountain ?" "It's to convey the news." What news 1" Don't you know it? Faith, thin, ye' re the 011ly man in Clare that don't. Sure, Tom Vokes the prosecutor's dead." Vokes could not conceal a start. "You may well be surprised, and so were we when w e heard it, for he was alive and well yesterday. Here's his health." The magistrate mentally joined in the toast. "And a speedy passage to the pit," bellowed the farrier, with a savage bust of delight. Vokes did not join in this. Sure, he hanged my brother for shooting an exciseman." "And didn't he transport my cousin Pat for a burglary 1" Oh, he was a savage, a raal right down savage. Bad luck to him !" chimed ,n a third. "And haven't I been out these nine months on account of th e burning of ould Macnaulty and his daughter. Haven't I been hunted up and down the county like a wild beast, and after all I was not the principal-I only strangled the ould fellow to prev ent his telling. Ye all know it was Fred Dwyer as stabbed the girl, and robbed h e r, and fired the house; and there now for ye, he's down com fortable like, at his uncle's, bey ant Ennistown, and aren't I here in terror of my life ? B e dad, I'd like to stick a knife in his heart, the blackguard, before they bury him." Ah, there, Teddy Lynch, hould your tongue; you talk too much," said a female of the party. "You're right, Iliddy agrath. He'll talk himself into a hempen collar, some day, if he don't look sharp." Vokes lrnd now learnt all. The man of all others he wish e d to seize, stood within three paces of him; the fellow who had so lc'ng eluded his pursuit was now within his grasp. Not liking the turn the conversation had taken, the C. M. P. gave notice of his approaching departure, not in a hurried manner, but in a cool, slow way, drawling out his words to the great amusement .of his hearers, who looked upon the Londoner's accent as a subject of fair game, without even for an instant sus pecting that their conversation, which had been carried on in pure Irish, could even have been guessed at by the Cockney before them. Several persons now offered their directions relative to the best road for the stranger to follow, while Teddy Lynch, more eager than any other, doubtlessly desiring to e arn the promised shilling, pressed forward and proffered his advice declaring he knew every yard of the country. Vokes at once addressed him. "My good fellow, you are pleased to say you know this wild country well Now I'm all alone and unarmed, and I never was here before, and I don't much like travelling in strange parts, you see, after dark ; so what will you take to come and guide me ?" "Me-is it me?" "Go with him," shouted two or three, "for the fun of it." "If you'll come, I'll give you a pound-note." Tare a nouns, it's a good offer; but you'll let me off as soon as we get to Banrathy Bridge. for I have reasons for not wishing to enter any town just now." "It's a pargain, my good friend," replied the magistrate, and away they went, the peasant walking beside the Major's horse. In this manner they pro ceeded, little conversation being exchanged, till they arrived at Banrathy Bridge when Lynch turning round, declared that he had fulfilled his task, and demand ed the reward.


92 Arrah-na-Pogu e ( Arrah-of-the-K iss); "And you sh 11 h ave it,'' ro a r e d Vok e s as h e jumped off his hors e-" you sh all h a v e it,'' c ri e d h e s e izing th e surpri se d p e asant by the collar. "Attempt t o e s c ape, a nd your brains s h a ll b e s catte r e d ove r this add e d he; drawing out his pi s t o l and pre s e n t ing it a t th e fell o w s h ea d. "Hey p olice p olice! Come h e r e qui c kly. N ay it's no use struggling, Tim Lynch, for I am T o m Vok e s." Th e murde r e r look e d at him, a nd seem e d at a glance to r e ad 'the tru t h of hi s asse rtion. His alte r e d mann e r a nd a few w or ds of' Iri s h h e h a d mingl e d in his addr es s too s ur ely t o ld th e a ssass in that h e was in th e h a nd s of his most dr ea d e d e n e my. H e n o long e r strug g l ed. H e submitt e d to his fat e The d ea d had, a s h e beli e v ed, com e to'life in ord e r t o s eize him-ho w th e n could h e s tru ggle T erro r-s t ru c k and p a ralysed h e a ll o w e d his capto r t o drag him o v er' t h e brid ge a t th e foot o f whic h stood a sm a ll poli ce b arrack. H e r e th e force, arou sed b y th e c alls o f th eir sup e rior we: e jus t from the ir b e d s wh e n V o kes ente r ed, dragging in his formid ab l e pri so n e r. H e only r e maine d to s ee the fellow handcuff e d a nd confin ed. He wr o t e :;h ort not e to th e nearest m a gi strate wh o liv e d within a few yard s The n m o unting .his h o rs e lie gall o p e d c h ee rfully off, to tra ce th e orig in of the r eport whi c h had s ee mingly r e m o v e d h i m from this w o rld .. Afte r so m e tro ubl e h e c a m e t o th e r ea l truth, and in con s id e rati o n o f th e imp ortant c a pture to whic h it h a d un w ittin gly l ed, th e footma n was for g iv en. Tim Lync h was h a nged at th e n ext assizes h e ld a t Enni s t o th e g reat j q y and comparativ e s e curity of th e wh o l e coun t y o f Cla re.


, Or, The Wicklow Wedding. 93 THE HANGMAN. 'ALTHOUGH I had given a brother subaltern two days' duty in order to shirk the disarrrecable sight of a criminal being hanged, for to my great annoyancethough to my snrprise, it being an event of frequent occurrence in Ireland -I found myself detailed for the "execution party," or, to express it in less t e chnical terms, I was ordered out in charge of some twenty-five dragoons, to be present at the execution of a culprit--a degrading service to which the cav alry are continually liable in the sister country, and as I said before, a duty to which I so strenuously objected, that my military chief allowed me to transfer it to a brothe r officer-he bargaining that l should 1, those brotherhoods of blood, might be discovered even now, at the last moment, he might hope for a respite, for the judge was still near. But no The wretch who h ad steeped his hands in t h e life-blood of his fel l ow-creature, who h ad rendered a once happ y h earth desolate, and sent forth the widow and orphan unprotected-even this wretch, I say, felt a false sense of honour-an obligation to shiPld his accomplices; and while he recklessly oommitted a crime of the deepest dye b e fore the eye of his offended .Maker, he still refused to break an oath which he had sworn at the bidding of his terrible copartners in guilt. vV ell assured of this, I felt less sympathy for the man before me than I should otherwise have done, and hurried out of tibe cell-feeling that the presenc e of such a being was highly distasteful, and for from being that object of commis eration I had fully expected to find in him.


94 A?rah-na-Pogue, (Arrah-of-the-Kiss); As we re-entered the yard, Vokes asked the head gaoler whet h e r the prison er's clothes had been destroyed. Th e official bowed assent, and we passed on. I could not resist my desire of asking the chief magistrate why this was done. "I'll tell yon," said he. It has proved most efficacious in r epressing crime." Burning a man's apparel a measure calculated to check crime! Pshaw you are joking." "Not so. Did you not se e that the prison e r was dresse d in whit e flann elhis own habilim e nts having b een made away with, probably burnt. It was to ascertain this fact that I walked up here with you." "Upon my honour, your ways are most strange. Pray explam yourself. I really should like to know the connexion between the destruction of a coat and breeches and the suppression of murder." "I will gratify you. You must know, then, that when this county first ea rn ed its celebrity, every means were adopted to put down the lawless bands which then paraded through our fields in open daylight. Special commissions had no effect. Prompt executions were of no avail. Guilt still enjoyed her supremacy. And when an execution took place, it was rath e r a scene of triumph for the condemned man than the severe and wholesome lesson it was intended to impart. Cheers greeted the monster as h e ascended the scaffold, and when he was cut down his body was carried away to be int erred with drunken pomp. Th e latter portion of this was; however, easily put a stop to. The bodies were ordered to be buried within the pricincts of th e gaol : and, indeed, on some occasions,. they were given over to the surgeons for dissection, to the great hor ror of their relatives. "This gave a t e mporary check to crime: but after a while, it was clear that they became callous on this head, and even these salutary measures ceased to alarm th e m. About this time I became an officer of Goverment, and I mentally vowed to find out what consolation they had introduc ed to meet the terrible stroke aimed at them, in thus depriving them of the dead bodies of those they lov ed "After considerable trouble for they jealously guarded their secret -I found out that immediately on each execution taking place, th e friends of tbe culprit c a me to the prison-gate and claimed his clothes, which, as the gov ernor of the gaol thought they had an undoubted right to t h e m, were duly delivered; and loaded with these, they set off to some neighbour's cabin-gen erally speaking, in some distant and secluded spot-and here, having arranged the garments in a proper form, they went through the whole mockery of WAK ING THEM! "Here the whiskey flowed, and the tobacco-smoke formed a ca11opy of cloud; here they danced round the apparel of the deceased ; here they poured bl ess ing s on the soul of the man who had been hang ed) and called down curses, min gled with oaths of vengeance, on his murderers-thus designating all who had in anyway assisted in bringing the assassin to justice. Drunk, furious, an d ungovernable, th ese creatures, consisting of men, wo man, and children, screamed round th e supposed corpse, and long ere they were sober, attended the clothes in mock burial to some hole which had be e n dug in th e garden to rec e ive them." Well, how could you stop them?" "In the most simple mann e r. On the morning of his execution, each con demned felon, male or female, was stripped of their habiliments and plain costumes, made of white flannel, placed on them. Thus the y the crowd, to th e ir great horror and aston ishment, which was not a little mcreased when, on application at the gate they


Or, The Wicklow Wedding. \)5 were told thn.t the clothes of.--, the person just hang ed, naa oeen burnt that morning by order of the chief justice "Ridiculous as this remedy may appear to you, it alarmed all the supersti tious fears of the peasantry, and affordt>d a more effectual check to crime than any other measure I have hitherto been lucky eno u gh to originate." This explanation, I must confess, surprised me much at the time it was given; but I subsequently found that it was perfectly correct, for I personally observed, when more closely investigating the character of the Irish peasantry that the sor row for death melts away before the triumph of a "grand wake"-a long re membered glory, quoted even afterwards in the family of a poor man, with the same pride which bestows a magnificent funeral on a member of a superior class-a tribute of vain respect paid by t h c living to the dead in the sister country-a tribute which can do little good to the latter, while it has often proved ruinous to the unhappy survlvors. We now entered the small square r oom immediately beneath the drop, where a band of officials were seated, awaiting their turn of duty in the approaching melancholy ceremony. From the corner of this apartment a winding staircase l eads to the platform above, where the gallows is erected To this staircase I was hurrying, when I felt myself suddenly lassoed (if the term may be allowed). I was caught tightly round the throat by a rope which had a slip-knot, now drmrn tightly close, while I beheld at the other end of it the most fearful-looking little monster that I ever met with. There he stood grinning at me, the living picture of Hans of Iceland. Not above four feet high, blear-eyed, strongly wrinkled from age-active as a cat -there he stood tugging away at me, or rather firmly holding me-for, truth to confess, the tightning of the cord partly arose from my own plunges to escape -while the men around us joined in the horrid laughter which exposed to my view the wide mouth and the thirty-two pearl-white fangs of this fearful nonde script. Overcome by a feeling of danger, I drew my sword, and I verily do believe that the next instant would have seen me pass it through the diminutive ruffian's body, had not Vokes, c h ecking his mirth, roared out, "For shame, man put up your sword ; it's o nl little Micky, the hangman "Gradi, gradi I (or charity) cried the facetious monster, holding out his hand in the most unmistakable manner, "Gradi, yer honour!" Had l had gold in my pocket, instead of small silver, I think I should have bestowed it all with alacrity on the disgusting follow, so anxious was I to get out of his clutches; as it was, I threw him a few shillings, and asked a turnkey standing near to take off my hempen collar," for I shrank from the touch of little Micky; and half ashamed of my unseemly violence, I c1ambered up the steps, which in another half hour would feel the last tread of the condemned felon. The apparatus that I came see was of the simplest kind. The portico on which it was reared was surrounded by a high wall, so only those could be seen who mounted the actua l platform, some five feet above us; so I had time to look at the terrible engine, without being perceived by the pop ulace, who had already collected in large numbers. The small spot on which we now stood closely resembled a battery, and I believe this idea was not absent from the mind of him who selected it as a place of execution, since any attack on the authorities, or attempt to rescue the prison er, the slightest suspicion of suc h an event occurring, and the whole party could she l ter themselves behind the breastwork,-and retire down the staircase or not, as they might deem best. Vokes told me a strange superst1t10n-namely, the conv1ct10n m the popula1


96 Arrp,h-na-Pogue, ( Arrah-of-the-Kiss). min 'd, that when a man and woman are executed together-which in these times was not a very rare occurrence-if they happ e n e d in s. winging about to turn their backs to each other, it betokened th e ir guilt: a token from Providence which non e could dare to doubt. As the time for the awful ceremony approached, we got away ; and I con fess I was glad to again find myself at home. But here my am1oyances did not end. About two hours later I rec e ived an order to escort the hangman back to Ennis, which was anything but pleasant, as it was quite sure we s hould b e pelt ed with stones the whole way; but as I had already shirked the public p e rform ance of Mr. Micky, I did not see h ow I could get out of the scrape. I st. > ted my case to Vokes, and added t h e sore gri eva nce of my b e ing forced to gh up a most pleasant dinn e r-party in order to shield, during some eight or ten hours, a being whom I disliked and loathed. Vokes laughed at my chagrin, but promised to relieve me from my unpl eas ant predicam e nt. He put on his hat and went across to the general (Sir C D. ) ; in a few mom e nts h e r et urned, and with a smile hand e d me a scrap of papera copy of an order sent to the barracks: "Thirty m e n of the 32nd, in charge of a subaltern office r, will proceed to Ennis this avening, at five o'clock p. m,, on escort duty. The m e n to be supplied with the usual rounds of ballcartridge I at once saw that l was free, and after thanking my r e lativ e, asked him how h e managed it. Well, then, can't you see? Sure the horses might get injur ed by the stones whic h are sure to be thrown at th e m by the angry crowd; and as th e cart in which Micky travels only goes foot-pace, he r e quires infantry, not cavalry, to protect him properly." ,_, I quite agreed with the magistrate, and silently drank his iiealth, as I sat at M--'s pleasant dinner-tabl e Though the incident showed that Vok es was over r ea dy to meet and overcome circumstances The escort pa; ty was much annoyed; some of the men wer e hurt ; all were irritated by the manner in which they were trea ted and abused Th e officer, who had great difficulty in preventing hi s men from firing, assm-ed me he would not pass such another night-one so unprofitable, so tiresome, and at the same time so degrading-to obtain a step in rank. THE END.


be Witt' s Cent Novels. l This admirable list of books comp r ises many of the ve1'Y bes t in the langu age Many are the I master-p i eces of t h e a uthors, and all have been selecte d with the utmost care-there i s not o n e 1 1 uninteresting book in the lot. They repl'0sent every gmde of thought, feeling, and i maginati o n Some of them dep ict to the life, the vastdifference betwee n t h e socia l standing of p eer and p ea sant in less fortunate lands than om own; o t hers describe life on the wide and bounding sea; and others, again, depict as with a pencil of fire, the nob l e strugg l e of t h ose Iron Sons of 76, wlio won I our Independence. Each book is co m p l ete, contains o n e hundred pages, and i s so l d at t h e remarkably l ow p rice of ')'wENTY-FrvE CENTS EACH. ARRAH-na-POGUE (ARRAH OF THE KISS) ; OR, THE WICKLowwEDDING. This cap i tal r omar;.ce is on the same sub ject as the g1eat play of the same name, by D i on Borcecaul t now having a tremendous success in t h e l eading theatres o f G reat B ritain. Its incidents are wildly romantic and heart thrilling ; w hil e its more a mu sing c h a r ac t e r s are full of the ric h r ollicking wit and humor, indigenous to the peasant of the Green Isle. It is the best b oo k tha t has been p u b lished in many years. No. 1 HARDSCRABBLE; or, The Fall or C hicago. No. 2. THE BEAUTIFUL HALF BREED; or, The Border Rovers. No 24. THE BLACK RANGER; or, Tile M a i d and the Marksman II No. 3. THE WHITE CHIEF'S BRIDE; or, The Trappers of Acadie No. 4. FRANK RIVERS; or, The Dangers or Tile I Town. No. 25. MARION AND HIS MEN; or, The Tor y Pri soner. No. 26. THE PALACE OF INFAMY; or, The Slave.Women or England. No. 27. MASANIELLO; or, The Fisherman's League. No 28, THE WEDDING DRESS By ALEXANDER DllliAS. ..0.. I No. 5 THE BEAUTIFUL CIGAR GIRL; or, The Mysteries or B r oa( 1 way. No. 6 FIFTEEN MINUTES AROUND NEW YORK. N o 7 NEWYORK BY GASLIGHT. No. 8, A MAN IN SEARCH OF A WIFE; or, The Adve n tures or a Bachelor in New-York City. No. 9, THE LIME-KILN MAN ; or, Tile Victim of Misfortune. No, 10 THE BANKER'S VICTIM ; or, The Betrayed Seamstress. No. ll. FEMALE DEPRAVITY; or, The Ilouse or Death. No. 12 THE FAlR QUAKERESS ; or, 1'he Per jured Lawyer N o 13. THE MUTINEER; or, HeavensVengeance No. 14. THE MODERN OTHELLO ; or, The Guilty Wife. No. 1 5. THE SOLITARY HUNTER; or, Sporting Adventures Oil the Prairies. No. 16 THE HUNTERS OF THE WEST; or, The Adveutwes of Kit Carson. No. 17. ROBROYOFTHEROCKYMOUNTAINS; or, Tbe Foundling or the Indian Camp. No. 18. THE DUKE' S MOTTO ; or, The Little Parisian No. 19. FORTUNE WILDRED, THE FOUND LING. To wbicl1 are added "Lizzie Leigh" and "Miner's Daughter." No. 20. KATE RENROSE; or, Life and its Lessons. No. 21. JESSIE CAMERON. A Higlllancl Story. No. 22. RIVINGSTONE; or, The Young Ranger Hussar No. 23. THE MOUNTED RIFLEMAN; or, The Girl or the Robbe r's Pass No. 29. THE THREE STRONG MEN, By AL.:x-AXDE1t DUMAS. No. 30. CAMILLE ; or, Tile Fate or a COll No. 31. THE CREOLE WIFE ; o r Love and Mystery. No. 32 ANTOINE THE DWARF; or, Tile Death of the l'anicirt Sflreet, New-York.