satisfied to be slaves for ever? to be flogged, shot, hung, and burnt, at the will of yere oppressors?"

"No, sure," was the universal response.

"All of yez lift up yer hands that's willing for the Oath of the United Irishmen."

66

A forest of brawny, hardworking fists was in the air immediately. “Then I'll administer it to ye, boys, all such of yez as haven't taken it afore; for I sees some round me that I know to be stanch brothers." His eyes rested for an instant on Myles Furlong's upturned face. "An' every brother has a right to be spreadin' his principles; and an oath took to him is as good as to Lord Edward himself. Ye ought all to know one another, an' to meet reg'lar, to back up the good cause. An' then, when there's a network of the Union all over the land, when every village is joined to every town, an' the friends of Ireland know each other everywhere, an' stand shoulder to shoulder, what government will dare to trifle with four millions of United Irishmen ?"

He put his hand in his bosom for the book that was to swear them. Myles, nearest him, noticed on the disengaged hand the odd phenomenon of black hairs, which scarce suited the red tufts of his beard.

"Here's the book," began the orator, in a loud tone; "the book that'll bind you to-to half-a-gallon of tar-water wid tansy in it. I tould you before, Martin Dempsey; but ye're very stupid intirely, an' I'm afeard ye'll play the mischief wid the cattle among ye."

His tone was totally changed; his shoulders had got a set in his ears. They looked at him in amazement; but those nearest the door were conscious of a pressure as from an incoming crowd. The gleam of red-coats filled the entrance.

"Make way, boys, make way for the throops," said the orator urbanely. "Maybe they'd like a cure for the murrain as well as

anybody; sure it attacks Protestant cows as well as Catholic, which is mighty unmannerly, considherin' it's no matther at all how the croppies' lives, while the others-Was you wantin' to spake, sir?" to a gentleman in uniform, and with a drawn sword wielded in the air, who had come as far as he could into the building.

66

"I arrest you, Putman McCabe, in the name of the king and the law."

66

"Och thin, sir, ye never were in the wrong box till ye took a poor farrier for McCabe-lights out, boys!"

His broad-brim went down over the nearest candle; before the soldiers could make the slightest movement to prevent it, the barn was in utter darkness, with only a prevalent smell of molten tallow to attest that there had been light. At the same moment, Colonel Butler's sword was snatched from his

grasp.

"Shut the door," he roared, backing to the entrance; "don't let a mother's son of them out, on your peril."

But shutting the door was not so easily done: it was a frail concern, uncertain on its hinges, and none of the soldiers cared to be inclosed with the peasantry.

"I demand the surrender of that fellow," said Colonel Butler, loudly. "Those who aid or abet him render themselves liable to

the same punishment."

66

Well," observed the farrier, composedly, "it's come to a pretty pass in Ireland, when a poor man can't go about the counthry sellin' simples an' cures agin witchcraft an' the like, but he must be arrested, an' stuck into jail, an' maybe hung, when he never did anybody a haporth of harm!”

"Come," said the colonel, "you know there's no escape; you may as well give yourself up peaceably; and if you are what you represent yourself, you shall be let go free."

"If!" repeated the farrier; "if!-d'ye hear him, boys? But sure I suppose I may as well give myself over first as last; an' if I

never go back to the poor wife an' little childer "-here his voice failed-"ye'll know what became of me, boys." He stepped heavily down from the table.

"Ah, that's a sensible man," said the colonel, complacently. "I promise you all the protection consistent with my duty to the crown." Here he was interrupted by a yeoman's voice at his elbow, asking whether he might go outside for his gun which he had left leaning against the wall.

"To be sure," was the reply; "sergeant, let this man pass; but nobody else, on your peril. I'm glad to find this little business will end more pleasantly than I thought at first; I feared opposition to the behests of the law. Couldn't some of you fellows strike a light?"

Before the clumsy flint and steel could be brought to bear, the farrier's voice was heard again; but this time from the outside. He had overheard and taken advantage of the colonel's orders, and slipped out.

"Boys! let yez remember what I tould ye. We'll finish the job of to-night somewhere else; an' meanwhile be firm an' faithful." "Fire on the scoundrel," cried the exasperated colonel.

"Fire!"

A few dropping shots; but nothing more was heard or seen of the fugitive.*

CHAPTER III.

THE TRIANGLE.

THE breakfast at Doon Castle was late next morning. Colonel Butler had spent so many hours of the night in hunting for the prey which had slipped through his fingers, that his heavy sleep trenched far towards noon of the succeeding day.

The narrative of McCabe's escape is strictly true.

66

'Why, then, more of that same to him," quoth the old butler, who had been sounding the "own man" on the subject; "for he'll be beyond everything for crossness whenever he's down, afther the bad night's work he made of it. Troth, my sides pain me when I thinks of it yet;" and both men indulged in a hearty fit of laughter. "The notion of the colonel himself givin' him lave to go out, wid the utmost politeness, an' he the very man he'd give one of his fingers to catch."

Their merriment was checked by the appearance of a young lady on the broad staircase leading from the hall to the upper

rooms.

"The top of the mornin' to ye, Miss Evelyn asthore," said the butler, advancing to open the door of the breakfast parlour, and lingering a moment after she had passed in, to hear what words would follow her sweet smile.

66

I fear that salutation is a little late, Connor; but the master will be down presently, and you may tell Mary to send up breakfast."

"There's more than me that'll be glad of his comin' down, Miss Evelyn," observed the butler, who was a privileged old servant. "He'll settle 'em off, I suppose?"

"Who do you mean ?" asked the young lady.

"The poor fellows that's locked up in that hole all night, with the fencibles guarding 'em," was the reply; clinking the doorhandle as he looked furtively at his mistress.

66

I suppose papa had good reason for making them prisoners,' the young lady said, with a sort of formality in her voice. "I am sure he does not intend to do anything unjust. You had better bring up breakfast, Connor."

Still he lingered. "More by token, them craythurs haven't had a single pin's-worth to ate, Miss Evelyn; and the cook says to me, she says, Connor, do you think would Miss Evie be mad if I gave

'em the end of the pot of praties that's left afther our own breakfast, an' the remains of the noggins of milk that we couldn't finish?' says she; an' I ups and I says, 'Take care o' what yer doin', for who knows but it's high thrason?' says I; 'but at all events don't do it by no manner o' manes till I axes her,' I says; an' now, Miss Evie, sure maybe it wouldn't be high thrason at all ?" "No, Connor," said Miss Butler, suppressing a smile; “you may give them whatever's left, poor men."

66

"Blessin's on yer kind heart, Miss Evie asthore. But the sergeant won't let us near 'em, widout ye give the ordhers yer own self."

So Evelyn passed across the hall into the kitchen section of the house, and thence to the wide court-yard, whose gates were lined with sheet-iron. A sentry was walking up and down before a grated door, through which she could see two or three grimy faces; at sight of her, these faces pressed closer to the barrier, and called out in hope of gaining her attention.

"They are to have some breakfast," she said to the sergeant; “you will allow it, kindly ?"

"Well, ma'am, you see that it's out of rule-quite out of rule; and the colonel has given no orders."

"Oh, if that is all, you may be easy; I will take the blame on myself should my father hear of it. Poor men!" and one of her pitying glances travelled again towards the prison vault as she was turning away. But she stopped short.'

"Is it possible that I see Myles Furlong among them-the captain's foster-brother ?"

The smith slunk back, but the sergeant answered for him. "Yes indeed, my lady; caught at a grand rendyvoo of rebels at Byrne's barn last night.”

"It wasn't a rebelly place; I tell ye it wasn't, or none of us would ha' been there," shouted a man in the vault, seizing the