Redmond Count O'Hanlon, the Irish rapparee, an historical tale

•

II a 0 A U

••MM

REDMOND

•

COUNT O'HANLON,

The Irish Rapparee.

AN HISTORICAL TALE.

• V

WILLIAM CARLETON,

Athor at " Valentine McClntchy," " Tale* and StorlM of the Irish

••Tb» Tithe Proctor," "Art Magulre," " Willy Bclllj," "Fardo-

rough*, the Mi§er." "The Black Prophet." "The BUck

Baronet," "Jane Sinclair," "The Etni-

of Ahadam," "The

KrU Eje," io.

NEW YORK -.
P. J. KENEDY,

EXCELSIOR PUBLISHING HOUSE,

5 BARCLAY STREET.
1896.

Copyright,
D. * J. SADLIER ft CO,

,

REDMOND COUNT O'HANLON,

THE IRISH RAPPAREE.

CHAPTER I.

A HAPPY FIRESIDE, WITH A MARRIAGE IN THE DISTANCE.

IN the year of grace sixteen hundred and ninety-six, there
lived not far from the northern base of Slievegullion mountain
» rery wealthy farmer named Callan, who was father to one
daughter named Rose, his eldest child, and three sons, none
of whom had grown beyond boyhood. This man held a farm
of two hundred and sixty acres of excellent land, at a very
light rent, and lived in rnde abundance and comfort. We
must admit, however, that if it were not for a certain compact
into which he. had entered with a man whose reputation a«
that time had become known throughout Europe, it would be
impossible for us to say that he could have lived under any-
thing like a sense of security so far as his property, at least,
was concerned. Of this, however, more hereafter. This
firmer, by name Brian Callan, was laborious, simple-hearted,
ami honest ; an affectionate husband, a fond father, and an
obliging neighbor. His wife was a Duffy, and on the surface
of this earth there breathed not a woman gifted with more </
those virtues which adorn and shed their pure and holy lustre
upon domestic life. Honesty, charity, simplicity, piety, and
affection, all mingled and supported each other in her charac-
ter, and made her name a household world of praiie for many

••*•

OCCNT O'HAKLOH,

a mile aronnd her happy dwelling. We will not fatigue oar
readers with an elaborate description of their dang\ter Rose.
There are plenty of such descriptions in the novJs, although
you could not probably find one of them suitable to her.
She was about the middle size, had rich dark auburn hair, rae
exquisitely shaped, had a sweet oval face, a beautiful mouth,
and soft, dark, mellow eyes ; and there, as to figure and
beauty, is all we will or can say concerning her person. In a
moral point of view, there was about her a charm of artless-
ness that was fascinating, to which, however, was added a fund
of good sense and spirit that excited respect from all who
knew her — a proof, besides, that she possessed no ordinary
degree of firm principle and stability of character. She wan
at this period of our story only nineteen.

Not far from her father's house lived another family named
M'Mahon, belonging to the great stock of the M'Mahons of
Monaghan. They also were wealthy ; for, like the family of
the Callans, of whom we write, they had kept themselves
aloof from the disturbances of the preceding tunes, and each
consequently bore a character of inoffensive peacefulness and
industry. Art M'Mahon had three sons, two of whom were
already married and comfortably settled hi their own houses.
His youngest son, Con, who still lived with him, was unmar-
ried ; and, as it was then customary among his class, he was
the individual into whose hands his father's farm should de-
Kend at his death. Con M'Mahon then was, at the period
when our narrative commences, the betrothed, and, need we
§ay, the accepted lover of Rose Callan, generally known, in
consequence of her extraordinary beauty, as the " Fair Rose
of Lisbuy" — Lisbuy signifying the Yellow Fort, so called
from the fact of its being overgrown with "iroom ; and from
this Fort, or Forth, as it is termed by the people, the wool*
townland had its name.

THE IRISH RAPPARKS I

It has x-en observed for centuries, and is, we belieTe, true
to the present day, that of all the clans 01 septa of the Irish
people, the M'Mahons, both men and women, stand unrivaled
for personal beauty. Nobody can say that they ever saw a
M'Mahon ill-shaped or ugly — at least we ourselves never did,
although we have seen as many of them as most people living.
Con M'Mahon was no exception to this general rule ; for, in-
deed, it would be a difficult thing to see a finer-looking or
bamlsomer young fellow in his native barony.

Those two families were at this time very happy. The
arrangement for the marriage of the "Fair Rose of Lisbuy"
and young Con M'Mahou had been completed, and nothing
now remained but the ordinary preparations for that happy
event

The state of Ireland at this time, though not marked by
the dreadful convulsions which had wasted and distracted it
not long before, was still far from being peaceful or settled,
Property was very unsafe ; for although the turbulent ootragM
that had spread about desolation upon a more fearful scale,
bad somewhat diminished, still there were too many of thoae
violent and lawless spirits abroad to allow the peacable and
quiet, especially if they possessed wealth or property, to sleep
in their beds with anything like a sense of security.

Not very far from Lisbuy lived a family named Johnston,
who were then claiming some property which had been for-
feited by the O'Hanlons, of Tandragee. a Catholic family, who
had fought under James's banner at the battle of the Boyne,
where several of them fell in that unsuccessful struggle. Thia
family was a branch of the celebrated Johnstons of the Fews —
Protestants of great energy and spirit, and who had very
much distinguished themselves in suppressing the outrages
which, even then, disturbed that part of the country. A
jroong man belonging to the branch we have alluded to* and

who held a commission in the king's army, was at that timt
residing with a detachment of his regiment, which was then
lying in the barracks of Armagh. This young soldier, with
the exception of an occasional chase after the Rapparees, had
never been engaged in actual service. He was, however, of
looee and licentious principles, and spent a good deal of his
time in profligacy or debauchery of the worst description.
Whilst lying in Armagh with his party, he was in the habit
of riding frequently to his father's house, and at the same time
reconnoitering the country for his victims. Every army, in
every age and country, has produced men of this detestable
character; and, indeed, in any army, or hi any country, it
would be difficult to find a more unscrupulous villain thaa
young William Lucas. God had endowed him with certain
high gifts, which he prostituted to the basest and most profli-
gate purposes. Being handsome, accomplished, and wealthy,
though said to be deficient in courage, he concentrated all
these advantages to that which we have stated to be the great
and immoral object of his life — reckless sensuality.

Upon one of his usual excursions to his father's house, it s**
happened that he caught a glance of Rose Callan, whom h-
immediately marked down as his victim. His visits home no*
became very frequent; but not satisfied with this, he occa
sionally procured leave of absence for a week or fortnight
under various pretenses. His usual amusement was shooting,
by which he was enabled to traverse the country, and enter
the farmers' or cotters' houses, for the purpose, as the unsus*
pecting people thought, of asking a drink, or obtaining some
other refreshment. Among others, he soon made a point to
pay a visit of this kind to the family of Brian Callan. It ia
not our intention to offend the taste of our readers by at-
tempting to detail the arts and ingenious devices with which
be attempted to destroy the character of the pure Rose of

THE IRI8H RAPPAKKB. 1

Lisbuy. It is sufficient to say that they were al exercised in
vain. The girl was virtuous, and what was still more against
him, imbued with a deep sense of piety and religion. She saw
his object, and in spite of his easy and fascinating manners,
the not only despised, bnt abhorred and detested him. On the
last visit which, in his character of a sportsman, he ever paid
at her father's house, after having received a drink of milk, he
significantly handed her five pounds, as a reward, he said, fur
ncr hospitality. This she refused, adding :

" The poorest beggar, sir, that enters under our roof, would
receive the same kindness. Take back your money I"

" Not at all," said he ; " I could not think of it. Nothing
would give me more pleasure than making such presents to so
beautiful a girl as you are."

" 1 will receive no presents from you, sir," she replied, indig-
nantly ; "and now, that I am alone in my father's bouse, it in
dishonorable in you to offer them."

He then proceeded to approach her. " Keep your distance,
sir," said she ; " don't approach me 1"

He still continued, however, to draw near, when she flew to
a little cupboard that hung against the wall, and seizing an
Irish skean, she took God to witness, that if he laid a hur.d
upon her she would plunge it in his heart. As she uttered the
words, he saw there was that about her which could not for a
moment be misunderstood. Her fine person became strung, ai
it rere, into intense vigor — her dark eyes gleamed with resolu-
tion, and the natural crimson of her cheek deepened with in-
dignation. Lucas paused, and felt that he never admired her
10 much.

"Why, my dear girl," said he, "this is a mere waste of
anger ; but indeed you look so beautiful in yonr indignation,
that it is almost a pity you should ever look otherwise. It if
•ot every day that a gentleman of my wealth and rank hup

MtDMOXD CODNT

pens to foil in love with a girl in your station of life ; yet so

"

t is

" Begone, sir," she replied : " begone, and take your money
with you, and let this be your last visit to my father's house."

" Well, well," said he, " I will take up the money, but you
will change your mind, I hope. Good bye, my beautiful girl ;
think of me as one who is anxious to be your friend, if you
would allow him, and who would place you hi a far diffei
ent - "

He had gone outside the door, where he stood while utter-
Ing the words ; ere he could proceed further, however, in the
rile proposal he was about to insinuate, she slapped the door
Indignantly iu his face, and having secured it inside, she sat
down and gave way to a burst of bitter tears.

" What a beautiful creature she is 1" he exclaimed to him-
self ; " I have seen nothing like her so for - and the truth
is, I must have her by hook or by crook."

This was the first occasion on which he had found Rose
Callan alone in her father's house, and the reader is now
cognizant of the success with which he attempted to corrupt
her principles.

It was one night in the month of November, about six
weeks after this event, hi the year above mentioned, that
Brian Callan was sitting at his comfortable hearth chatting
happily with his children, his laboring servants, and a few of
the neighboring peasantry, who had come, as the phrase is, to
nake then* keailye with him for an hour or two. Rose was at
her distaff, inside the jamb, spinning flax, an occupation which
at that tine was not common even in Ireland ; her mother
was grinding oats in a quern, or hand-mill, which was placed
on a quilt spread over the kitchen floor, to prevent the meal
from being wasted. Rose's dark auburn hair was bound by a
ribbon that went round her head, but did not prevent it <TODI

THE IRISH RAPPARUL

Sailing in i ich natural ringlets about her snowy white shoul-
ders. The chimney was well liked with fat smoke-dried bacoa
and hung beef, and the whole house had an air of great warmth,
comfort, and cleanliness. A blazing fire of turf was down,
which threw its rich and mellow light throughout the whole
kitchen. Rose, however, did not seem to take a very particu-
lar interest in their conversation, but seemed somewhat ab-
stracted, if not anxious, for it might be observed that she
paused as if to listen from time to time, and if a noise happen-
ed to be heard, especially near the door, she would start, and
her eyes would brighten for a moment. On finding that there
was nothing in it, however, she would resume her spinning,
and seem somewhat cast down or disappointed.

" Come," said her father to his eldest son, a fine manly boy
of thirteen, "come Owen, tell us a story." — for Owen, like
many a boy of his age, was not only fond of stories, but a
famous story-teller himself ; in fact, quite a young Senachie.

" Come, Owen avillish, will you give us a story ?" they all
exclaimed ; " you're the beauty of the world at it."

"Bedad, I dunna what to tell," said Owen, exceedingly
proud at the time, in consequence of being selected to amusa
the company ; " I have none, sure."

" Oh, that indeed," exclaimed Shamus Oew (James, the son
of Hugh), and you can bate Tom Gressy (the shoemaker^
right and left."

" Well," said Owen, with the face of a lad who seemed de-
murely conscious of his own talents, " I'll try and do my best,
and you all know the best can do no more."

" True enough, abouchal," said Shamus, " but at any rate
make a beginning for you know what's well begun is half-
ended."

"Well — hem," commenced Owen, clearing his throat,
"There wai a widow woman once, and she tad three sous ;

10 IIDMONO COUNT o'HANLON,

they were all very poor, but it was their own fault. The el<i
est was idle and undutiful, and wouldn't do anything toward
their support ; the second was as idle and undutiful as he was,
and as lazy as Harry Harvey, that could never be got to take
his shut off to let it be washed ; the only one that ever did
anything for the family was the third and youngest of them
all, and if it hadn't been for him and his mother, they'd all
starve. At last one morniu' the eldest says to his mother,
' Mother, bake me a bannock, and roast me a collop, till I go
and pitch (seek) my fortune.' So his mother baked him a
bannock and roasted him a collop, that he might go and pitch
bis fortune. Well, when the bannock was baked, and he
ready to start, his mother, takin' it up, says to him, ' Now,
whether will you have the half of this with my blessin', or the
whole of it with my curse ?' ' Indeed, mother,' says he, 4 the
whole of it is little enough, I think, for it's a short way the
half of it would take me ; as for the curse, I'll take the whoto
of the bannock and it together.' Well, his mother gave hint
the whole of the bannock sure enough ; but she stood on the
thrashil of the door, and cursed him till he got out o' sight
Well, he went on far — farther than I can tell, till he came
to a "

Here the latch of the kitchen door was raised, and the
next minute young Con M'Mahon made his appearance, ac-
companied by his father and his two brothers ; and ah, my
dear reader, maybe the eyes of the Rose of Lisbuy did nrt
flash and glisten, and her pure but loving heart palpitate with
ecstasy when she saw her lover and heard his voice. Her
cheeks glowed with a blush of joy and happiness which she
could not repress, and the distaff became unmanageable in her
hands.

" God save all here 1 " — welcome and social words- -and
"God save you kindly 1" soon passed between them. In a

THE IRISH RAPPAKB. 11

moment the company about the fire rose np in order that new
arrangements for places and accommodation might be made
The semicircle about the hearth was extended ; other seat*
were drawn in ; they once more sat down ; each, of course,
comfortable ; but there was one place unanimously allowed
and reserved for the lover — and that was his usual one — on
the hob immediately behind Rose's chair. There was nothing
in this to offend Rose's delicacy. Every thing with respect
to their forthcoming marriage was known throughout the
parish, and his father and brothers accompanied him for the
purpose of settling the day for their wedding. After some
chat between the seniors present, and a low, tender dialogue
between Con and Rose, old M'Mahon at last left his seat, and
going behind the jamb returned with a jar of spirits, because,
be it known to our readers, that no negotiations of this kind
erer takes place without whisky, which, by the way, is uni-
formly provided by the bridegroom and his relatives. On this
occasion we need not say that it added very much to the
harmony and hilarity of those who were assembled, especially
upon an occasion in itself naturally festive. The conversation
was enlivened by mirth and laughter, and every one, especially
the youngsters, looked forward to the day of the wedding
with a sense of exuberant delight, which they could not re-
strain. At length the whisky began to circulate, and the
wnversation, after bearing on many different topics, began to
to turn toward the occasion on which they were assembled :
this was simply to appoint the day on which the young couple
should be married and made happy. Some one suggested,
from a motive of comic malice, that the marriage should take
place on a Sunday ; but this was received with a clamor of
UidignatiOL that soon put an end to such a disagreeable and
nunational project Every one krew, they said, that they
would hare Sunday, whether they *ere married or not, and

IS REDMOND COUNT o'HANLON,

that such an arrangement would deprive them of the benefit
of a holiday during the week ; besides, did not all the world
know that Sunday marriages were never lucky. No, no, they
would not stand that: and the arrangement took place ac-
cordingly. There is, indeed, such a prejudice against mar-
riages on the Sabbath, and some unfounded superstition exists
against them, and on this account very few marriages ever do
take place upon that day And indeed we may remark here,
that the prejudice we speak of prevails as much in high life as
it does among the humbler classes. Be this as it may, the
healths of the young pair were drank with all the warmth and
enthusiasm peculiar to our national character. Other healths
also went round ; hands were grasped in cordiality and friend-
ship, and the evening closed with a short encomium : first, on
the excellent qualities and many virtues of Rose Callaii by her
affectionate and admiring father.

" She is," said he, whilst the tears stood in his eyes, " she
is — but where's the use of me sayin* what she is ? Doesn't
every one know it ? There she sits ; the girl that never gave
one of us a sore heart, nor ever wanst disturbed even our
temper. It is not the fortune that you'll get along wid her.
Con M'Mahon, for I think nothing of that, and I'm sure you
don't either."

" No, Brian, not the value of a grain of chaff," replied her
generous young lover.

" No, I knew you didn't," continued her father ; " but you
wi" have a fortune and what's worth a thousand fortunes be-
sides, and that is the blessin' of God, and a pure and lovin'
heart tliat will make you contented aud happy, even if you
had only the black wather and the dry potatoes between you,
In the meantime, you won't be broight to that, I trust.
You're both goin' together with comfortable manes, and tht
free const nt of your parents and friends on both sid>*«, and

THE IRISH IUPMXEE. IS

BAJ God grant yon both — as I'm sore he will — happiness and
heahh and comfort daring roar lives 1"

Old M'Mahon rose and grasped his hand, whilst he said —

" Every word, Brian, that has come from your lips is true,
and we all know it to be so — and indeed he should be able tn
make a far look-oat that could find a husband worthy of her.
If any one is, I think my son Con comes near it — bat, indeed,
even he isn't."

"What's that you say?" replied her father, rising up sud-
denly, " am I to understand yon as lay in' down to us, that
your son Con there isn't worthy of her 1"

" Troth he's not," rejoined his father, and I don't know the
boy that is."

" Honoman dioual, man, don't attempt to say such a thing
at my fireside. He is her fill of a husband — and fit to be a
husband for a better girl than ever stood in her shoes — that
Is, if such a girl could be had."

" Troth an' he isn't," persisted his father ; " divfl a boy in the
barony of Orior is worthy of her. Don't look angry, Brian.
I know what I'm sayin', and I know the value of my son, aa
well as you do of your daughter — or may be betther, for I
don't think you know the full value of your daughter yet ; but
if you don't, I do, and I say there's not a man in the barony
of Orior worthy of her, nor in the five baronies next it —
and that is more, I believe."

" Con M'Mahon, I'd contradict you, if it was the last word
in my death rattle. I say, your sou — sitting there before us
is — and I say, if you hadn't the whisky in your head you
wouldn't deny it, — and, indeed, between you and me, it's not a
very fatherly thing for you to do — I know the value of my
daughter well."

44 1 deny that, too," replied old M'Mahon ; " I deny it ; I
my you don't know half her value "

14 REMIOND COUNT

"Why corpan dioual, man alive, who has a b«tt«f
right to know it so well — barrin', indeed, her mother — well
then n

" Ay, there is — another — that knows it better than either
of you."

" Well, may be so," returned Callan, partly in a tone of
lirony, and partly in one of amazement at the mystery in-
volved in M'Mahon's extraordinary line of argument ; " but
who might that other person be ?"

" Why, then, I'll tell you ; that young Cornet Lucas — but
nothing, thank goodness, to the Lucases of Castleshane "

Rose's father paused, looked about him, then at his daugb
ter, whose whole neck and countenance became instantly over-
spread with a deep and burning blush. His eye rested on her
for a moment. Why did she blush ? — here was a mystery—
perhaps disgrace. His veins became tremulous with agitation,
and his features the color of death. He hemmed two or
three times in order to recover his breath and his voice, foi
both for a space had left him.

" Con M 'Mahon," said he, " what is the meaning of this ?
My child's name is as pure as her own heart, as the snow from
Heaven ; beware of castin' a stain upon it, for I am, as you
know, something like yourself when I'm vexed — a dangerous
man ; and what I might overlook in my own case, I neither
could nor will in her's. Spake out ; or, if you don't, I'll
make you, before ever you put your head from under this roof.
My child is my life, and dearer to me than it is."

" It's a terrible disclosure I have to make," replied M'Ma-
hon, solemnly ; " and as I know it may be the means rf great
distress to some one, I don't care if I take another glass of
whisky before I spake out."

"The whisky is your own," replied Callan, ''and a? yon
tare been givin' it round all the night, help yourself."

THE IRISH RAPiTARKB. II

These words he ottered with a voice that was hoarse and
deeply agitated.

" Well," said the other, rather coolly, 611ing a glass for him-
K-lf at the same time, " here's all our healths, and that we may
get well out of it — only, in the manetime, I wish that a per*
son I was spaking to a few days ago was here now, that he
might bear witness to the charge I'm goin' to make against —
against — against who ? — why, honoman dioual, man, against
your daughter 1"

A silence like that of death followed these words for more
than a minute. The whole company seemed to be thundei-
struck. Rose's mother got up and was about to approach
M'Mahon, with all the indignation of a mother in her eyes,
when the kitchen door opened, and a lame man, in the garb
of a beggar, entered the kitchen. The moment M'Mahon
saw him he started up, exclaiming —

"God is good and just ; and the very man I wished to set
at this moment is here. Patchy Baccach, although I'm not
undher my own roof, still 111 bid you welcome. Here, man,"
he added, filling him a glass of spirits, " try this, and tell m*
first what you think of it. Afther that we want to have your
opinion upon a certain subject that we wor just talk in' about,
and if I don't mistake, you can throw some light upon it."

Patchy, who was called Baccach, in consequent of hia
lameness, took the glass, and was about to drink it, when
Brian Gallan interrupted him.

" Patchy," said he, " Con M'Mahon has bid you welcome
inder my roof ; but before you drink that glass I wish to say
that I and more bid you welcome as heartily as he did ; get *
•eat for Patchy there, and let him sit down."

" Many thanks to you both, gentlemen," said Patchy, taking
the seat which one of the youngsters had reached him. " Many
thanks to you both, and health and happiness to all of in I

16 BKDMOND COUNT O'HAXLOIC,

What I think of it, Con M'Mahon ? Oh then, death alire,
what could any one think of it that tastes it, barrin' that on«
glass of it desarves another to the end of the chapter."

" Well, Patchy," replied M'Mahon, taking him at his word,
for the hint was so well given that it was impossible to refuse
him, " you must have another ; sure they'll keep one anothei
company, and be neighborly where they're gone to "

Patchy having finished the second glass, and taken a view
of those about him, saw at once that they appeared gloomy
•nd evidently disturbed. He said nothing, however, but re-
solved to watch the event of this agitated state of feeling,
whatever 'it might be.

Rose's mother, however, now that this little incident had
passed, approached M'Mahon, whom her husband was also
approaching, but she put him aside.

" Come, now," said she, " what charge, Con M'Mahon, have
you to make against our daughter ?"

" Why, not much," he replied*; " nothing to signify, barring
to receive private visits from young Cornet Lucas undher your
own roof — undher this very roof."

"Father," said her lover, getting up, "whoever told yon
that is a liar ; it is as false as hell — as false as the lying tongue
and the black heart of the scoundrel you speak of."

Rose, seizing him by the arm, whispered to him to sit down,
and to keep himself calm. " Don't be alarmed," she added,
"about me. Let them finish the subject among them ; after
that trust to me — to your own Rose."

As if overcome by the wand of an enchanter, he immediately
eat down, his dark, mellow eye beaming upon her with pride,
love, and confidence, which no charge or slander could shake.

" I agrev wid your son," said her father, stepping before hii
wife ; "the thing is a lie. He never had a private meetur*
Wid her undher this roof, nor anywhere else."

THB nura lumjn. IT

" I think yon bad betther ask herself," said the Baccach

"Right, Patchy," said her father. "Come, Rose," ht
added, taming triumphantly to his daughter, " is this true ?
Had you ever a private meetiu' wid young Cornet Lucas ?"

" I had," she replied, smiling.

Her father and mother fell down suddenly on their seata
and covered their faces with their hands ; but her lover, on
the contrary, remained calm and firm. Old M'Mahon also
smiled, and, after looking significantly at the Baccach, said :

" We must have another glass on the head of this."

It was evident, however, that when he spoke in the plural
number he meant no other person than himself. Having taken
the glass, he proceeded :

"Now, Brian Callan, what do yon say, or what can you
§ay of the daughter you praised so highly ?"

" That she's truth and honesty, M'Mahon ; and that she
never had, wid her own consent, a private meetin' wid him ;
that he used to call here when he was out shootin' to get
•omething to refresh him, I grant, but then we were always
present ; and now, Con M'Mahon, lave my house, both your-
•elf and — no ; I was goiu' to say your son, but I won't. N«
idle piece of falsehood or scandal will ever break down his
love for my daughter ; or if it does, then he's no longer worthy
of her, and she'll have a good escape of him."

M'Mahon, after whispering a few moments with the Boo
each, said :

" Well, Brian, I think we have gone far enough, maybe too
tar-but it is time to clear this business up. I tonld you that
yon did'nt know half the good qualities of your daughter, and
neither yon do ; but I have better authority ready to spake
for her, and that's both an eye-witness and an ear-witneM.
Come. Patchy, go to work, and set all right."

To the utter astonishment of Rose, Patchy commenced tad
2

18 BKDMOND COUNT

fare to the whole company an accurate and detailed account
of the last visit which young Lucas had paid to her father's
house, not omitting the history of the proffered bribe, nor th«
more significant episode of the skean, and the equally signifi
cant purpose for which Rose had resorted to it, winding up all
with the indignant resolution she had displayed in slapping the
door in his face, and barring it immediately afterward.

"Now I" exclaimed old M'Mahon, in triumph, "didn't I
tell you, Brian, that you knew only half the value of yo»ir
sweet girl. Come over, Rose, and kiss your father-in-law,
darlin', for it's he that will be proud of you as his daughter."

Rose complied at once, and the old man embraced her with
the most paternal tenderness, after which she returned to her
seat.

In the meantime, her father and mother felt their hearts
divided between joy and surprise.

" Why, then, Rose 1" exclaimed both parents, almost at tht
same moment, " why is it that you never mentioned a word
of this to us ?"

" Because," replied Rose, " I didn't wish to make eithei of
you uneasy. I knew very well that I taught him a lesson he
would not forget ; and knowing, as I did, from the treatnn nt
I gave him, that he would never pay another visit to this
house, I thought it would only make you both unhappy to
hear it, and that is the reason why I never mentioned it. But
row, I must say, that I don't know, under heaven, how any-
one, barring bun — the villain, and myself — could come to the
Knowledge of what passed between us. There iras nobody
present that I could tee, and I don't think that he would be
apt to mention it to anybody, in regard that it would only
bring disgrace upon himself."

" Ha 1 ha I ma cofeen," replied Patchy, " maybe you're •
little out there, anyhow Don't you know the little

THE IRISH RAPPARKK. If

that's in the back o' the kitchen, and that was then half jpen.
Maybe there wasn't a certain Baccach peepin' in at the time,
and that had both his eyes and his ears open to see and to
hear all that passed ; and maybe that same Baccach hadn't a
bit o' goods about him that would have put daylight through
the villain if he had laid an improper finger upon you."

As he spoke he pulled out an excellent case of pistols, and
handed them round to the company.

" It wasn't for nothing," he added, " that I got the same
wound that made me a cripple for life, in the wars against
Cromwell, the villain, where I got a skelp of a bullet in the
pip that has lamed me for life. Oh, we had plenty of Rappi*
fees then, that did good service. Give me a glass o' whisky,
till I drink their health ; but mark me, 1 don't mane the
Tories, although many people, in their ignorance, put them to-
gether ; for the Tories rob and murder the Catholics as well aa
the Protestants, whenever they could do it safely, the cowardly
scoundrels. Thank you, Con M'Mahon. Here, then, is the
health of the glorious Rapparees ?"

He drank off the glass which old M'Mahon had handed
him, after which the heroism of Rose — the fair Hose of Lis-
buy — was next proposed, and, need we say, ricoived with
enthusiasm.

" Well," said Brian Callan, when this temporary excitement
had settled down to something like sober conversation, " that
1 may never stir, Con M'Mahon, if yon arn't the greatest
whamer on the face of the airth ; but sure we ought all to
know you, you thief : sure it's as common as the church steeple
that you can neither buy nor sell widout a joke/

" Very well," replied the old hoaxer — for, in fact, he TOI
inch — "very well, then, a merry heart is always u light one :
or, on the other hand, a light heart is always a merry one ;
mod in truth, in my opinion, one laugh is worth fifty cryi ai *

tO REDMOKD COUNT

day. And iiow that everything is settled, Brian, we'll bt
biddin' yon and yours good night. The course of happiness U
clear before the youngsters ; and may God keep it so I"

There was one individual among them, however, who had
paid a comparatively small degree of attention to the conver-
sation which went forward. This person sat wrapped np, as
it were, in himself, or in his exuberant imagination, watching
an opening in the busy dialogues which intersected each other
with such unbroken continuity. The person we allude to was
the young Senachie, or story-teller, who now seeing that there
was a lull in the conversation, as the neighbors were about to
prepare for their departure, thought he might succeed hi ar
resting their attention for a short time, until he could disbur-
then himself of his legend.

" Con M'Mahon," said he, " I was goiu' to tell them a
story when you came in, but now that there's time to hear it,
I'll go on wid it — hem ! There was a widow woman once,
and she had three sons "

" Owen, my boy," said M'Mahon, " I'm afraid its too late
now to hear your story."

" Oh," replied Owen, " it's not a long one ; you'll be time
enough — hem. There was a widow woman once, and she had
three sons "

" Some other time, Owen abouchal" said M'Mahon, with a
grave but droll face ; "on the night of the weddin', man alive ;
keep it for the night o* the weddin'."

This jest of M'Mahon's produced, of course, an uproar of
mirth, save and except on the part of the young couple, who
kept considerably hi the back ground. The strangers now
took their departure, first having taken then* dock an rfr/mwA,
or parting cup, with the exception of Patchy Bacoach, wha
was detained by Brian Callan for the night.

IBB OUSH RAFPAUUL 11

CHAPTER II

THE ABDUCTION OF THE ROSE OF LI8BUY.

IT was usual, at the time in which the incidents of our story
occurred, for the farmers of Ireland to allocate a place in the
barns or other out-houses attached to theii dwellings, in which
their male servants, and sometimes their grown sons, should
ileep. It was the custom then, and is, in many instances, to
the present day. On 'the night in question, Brian Callan'i
young sons retired to the barn to sleep, accompanied by
Patchy Baccach, who had a separate shake-down for himself.
Young Owen, who was still full of his legend, and anxious
to deliver himself of it, insisted on narrating it, but, as hia
brothers had heard it a hundred times, they preferred hearing
Patchy's account of the wars — and to this Patchy readily as-
sented. He amused them by many a wild account of those
fierce and bloody conflicts, until both he and they fell uiicon-
•ciously asleep.

In the meantime, Brian Callan and the other members of
his family, after recommending themselves devoutly and piously
to the protection of Qod, retired to their beds, and soon after
were sunk in deep and dreamless repose. They all led inno-
cent and inoffensive lives, were peaceful and industrious, and
well beloved by their neighbors and acquaintances. With the
exception of the robberies which, at that unsettled period,
were so frequent, persons of their quiet character had nothing
to fear ; and, on this occasion, for reasons with which the
reader will be made acquainted, Brian Callan and his family
itept, in what they considered perfect security. In the dead
hour of the night, however, a violent knocking took place »t

22 mtDMOND COUNT o'HANLON,

She door, and voices, marked by tones of turbulence and im-
patience, were heard outside. The family within immediately
started up, and dressed themselves as hurriedly as they could.
Rose, probably from a peculiar instinct of personal apprehen-
sion, was the first dressed, and, guided by that instinct, she
immediately hid herself under a bed.

"Something tells me," she said, pale with consternation,
"that this unlawful visit is made on my account, and that
Lucas is at the head of it ; but I will hide," she added, " and
if it is me they want, say that I went to my aunt's in Dun-
dalk, to spend a week or a fortnight with her."

She accordingly concealed herself under the bed, the only
place of concealment which the house afforded. The other
members of the family were in a dreadful state of terror
They knew at once that those who were so violently and so
vociferously demanding admittance were not the robbers by
whom the country was then infested. The clang and jingling
of their arms left no doubt of their being a military party ; but,
as Calliiii and his family were unconscious of having given any
offense either to the law or government, so were they com-
pletely perplexed as to the cause of such an outrage Not
that such scenes were then at all uncommon — far from it The
Tory-Hunting, as it was still called — as applied even to the
Rapparees — was still going on in the country ; and many a
house was thus surrounded and searched by night, either from
direct information that the family held concealed a Tory or a
Rapparee, or from suspicion that they had done so, and a hop*
that they might find them there.

At length, a rather hoarse, stern voice said outside :

" Open the door, in the king's name. If you do not, wt
will break it in."

" What is your business with me cr mine ?" said Callan,
from within "that you come to my peaceful hoise at such an

THE IRISH RAPPABEE. 81

treasonable hoar of the uiglit. Why not come in day-
light?"

" That is oar own affair, and not yours," replied the same
ruffian voice ; " bat if you wish to hear it, be it known to you
that we are come in search of a Rapparee, called Patchy Hoc-
each, and we know him to be now with you. He is a setter
for the Rapparees, and goes about as a lame beggar. Open
at once, before we break in the door. You know now that
we are upon the king's business ; and, as he spoke, he gave
the door a heavy knock with the but-end of his carbine.

Callan, now perceiving that he had no alternative than that
of yielding to their threats, opened the door, and admitted
them. A candle was lit, and about a dozen men, in military
uniform, at once entered the house, and after looking sharply
about them, again demanded where the setter for the Rappa*
rees was?

" You may believe me, as an honest man/' replied Callan,
" that the person you want isn't nndher this roof. If he was,
you would see him, for there's no place here where he could
»xide."

"That is more than we know," returned their leader, a
•tern, ruffianly-looking man, about forty-five years of age ;
" but, in the meantime, we will search."

They accordingly commenced the search, and in a few min-
utes pulled poor Rose, now less alarmed than she had been,
from under the bed. Having heard that they were in pursuit
of the Baccach — a circumstance very probable in the times of
which we write— Rose felt considerably relieved, and contrived
to say in a whisper to her mother, that there was no necessity
for alarm on her account, and requested her not to make her-
•elf at all uneasy.

" As for Patchy Baccach," said the leader, " it's a deaf
that you hav« deceived us, and allowed him to escap*

•4 BBOMOND COCKT o'HANLOX,

As it is, we most take this girl away with us until, jou pro
dace him. Such are our orders, and such is the law."

" Is it to drag my daughter out, from undher her father's
roof, in the clouds of the night ?" replied Callan, " an inno-
cent child, that never gave offense to a human being. Surely,
you have no king's authority for such an outrage as this —
such a cowardly and unmanly outrage ?"

" You had better keep a mannerly tongue hi your head,"
replied the leader, whose name was Stinson ; " otherwise it
may be worse for you."

" I don't mane to offend you, sir," replied Callan. " I know
what the law is about Rapparees, sure enough ; but then, that
is only hi cases where the Rapparee or Tory is a relation of
the family ; but here there is nothing to justify your conduct,
because I take God to witness that there is neither Tory nor
Rapparee related, either by blood or marriage, to me, or any
one belongiu' to me. Don't, then, drag my innoffensive child
from the protection of her family. Maybe you are a father
yourself, and if you are, think — oh, think of what you'd feel
to see a daughter of your own torn from your arms and from
your heart ; think of this, sir, and have mercy on us." And
as he spoke, the bitter tears ran down his cheeks.

" It is out of my power, replied the man, quite unmoved ; I
have my orders, and I must obey them — let the young woman
prepare to come along."

" Oh ! no, sir," replied her mother, hi accents of the most
heart-rending entreaty, whilst the tears gushed from her eyes,
" Oh 1 no ; for the sake of the livin' God, no ! Oh, if you
bave a wife, sir, or a daughter like her, as her father said to
you, think how you'd feel if you saw that darlin' and beloved
daughter torn away from her mother's arms at such an hour
of the night, and by strange men — a girl that never in her
lift gave offense to man, woman, or child. Oh ! have cou>

THE IRISH R1PPAREI. 25

passion upon us, sir ; for, great God ! she is oar only daugh-
ter."

The stern miscreant, the instrument of a baser and fur more
dishonorable man, merely returned the same reply as before ;
when Rose, now in her mother's arms, said :

"I know, my dear mother, who the villain is that is at
the bottom of this ; but don't fear for me. I have but one
life, and sooner than come to shame, I will lose it. / am pre-
pared."

" If one of the family is to go," said her father, still in tears,
"oh, take me, and leave our child to the mother that lores her
better than her own life I am ready to go with you — och,
do then take me, and leave the girl behind."

" No, but take me," added the mother, clasping her hands
in a state of the wildest distraction — " take me, and leave our
darlin' to the ould man, who will break his heart if she is sep-
arated from him."

'' Not if he leaves her safe with you — safe in her own fam-
ily," said her father, turning to his wife ; "that's all I ask
And surely if you have a heart in your body," he added, ad-
dressing the leader, " a sowl to be saved, and a belief that God
is above you, and that you must account to Him for this black
outrage, yon will spare her to her mother, and take me in her
place."

" I will take neither of you," said the mau, " in the absence
of the Rapparee setter. She must come ; for such are my
orders. If I was to consult my own will," he added, some-
what softened, "I would leave the young woman with you j
but that is out of the question. Prepare yourself, my girl —
yon must come with us ; and you need not be at all afraid—
there will be no harm done to you : so far from that, you will
be soon glad that we brought you to good fortune."

"Stop there," proceeded her mother j "I cannot see thi*—

26 BKDMOND COUXT o'HAKlOJC,

I will not see my child destroyed when I can prevent It
Leave her with us, and we will give you up the Baccach?

" Where is he ?" said the sergeant.

" He's in the barn," she replied, " where the boys always
deep."

"Go and arrest him forthwith," said Stinson, addressing
three or four of the men ; " but bring him with you by a dif
ferent direction — you understand 1 He musn't cross our path ;
for we know him. He hasn't Sarsfield at his back, now."

The barn hi which the Baccach slept had, as most such
buildings have, two doors, for the purpose of winnowing corn,
by the strong draught of wind which they occasion. It is not
to be supposed that the noise and tumult about the house, and
the rattling of their arms, did not arouse and startle the in-
mates of the out-house. They were, in fact, awakened and
alarmed, and hi an instant the Baccach was up, and in the act
of dressing himself with all the expedition hi his power.

" I must be off," said he, throwing the straw upon which he
slept upon another heap that lay in the end of the barn ; " say
I went out early in the night, and that I wouldn't tell yez
where I was goiu'. Blessed man, but it's I that could take
down a couple o' the villains, and would, too, only that it
would get the roof of every house belongin' to you burnt to
ashes, and you yourselves shot maybe, like dogs. But what I

fear most about is poor " He paused, from a reluctance

to express the suspicions which pressed upon him, with respect
to their sister. " Now," he added, passing out of the back
door, " I'm off, and, thank God, the night's dark. Boult this
door, and if they come in, be sure to spake them fair ; other-
wise you may get a dog's knock. As *br me, I'm safe ; for
even if they caught me to-night, I would be at liberty to-mor-
row. I know that if they saw me, or met with me to-nigh^
they should take me to sard appearances, and to have an e»

THE IRISH RAPPABKK. 81

for bcin' out, if any inquiry should be made ubout their
conduct In the meantime, I don't wish to meet them, bekase
I want to watch their motions, without givin' them raison to
suspect me. They call me Baccach ; but divil a many men in
the county could cross a country with me for all that."

The truth is, that Patchy's lameness was but trifling, and
such as impeded his activity and speed only in a very slight
degree. Lame, however, he was, and that fact was sufficient
to fasten the nick-name upon him.

It is unnecessary to say that when the troopers came to
search the barn, they found that the hare had flown, nor did
this fact give them any uneasiness, inasmuch as his capture
was merely secondary to the great object of their visit.

" The scoundrel has disappeared," said the men on their re*
turn from the barn ; " but as he must have been aided and
abetted in his flight by this man's sons, we are, of course,
bound to take away the young woman, and keep her in close
imprisonment until he is produced."

" Such are our orders," replied Stinson ; " and you all know
that there is no discretion allowed to us in their execution.
Come, young woman 1" he added, addressing Rose, and at the
same time laying his hand — gently, however — upon her shoal*
der, " you must accompany us, and that without delay."

The wail and sorrow of the parents and of the two servant
maids cannot be described. Both parents clung to her, threw
their arms around her, and their grief was less the grief of or-
dinary sorrow than that of wild and hopeless despair. They
had heard of these matters before, when the relatives of pro-
claimed Tories and Rapparees were held responsible for their
appearance, under the penalty of transportation itself; bat
lever yet had they heard of or known a case where an unof-
fending female, or a female at all, had been held accountable
trr their capture or punished for their escape. Here the

BKOMOHD COUNT

did not tally. There was no parallel between them As tht
father said, there was neither Rapparee nor Tory connected
with their family ; and npon what principle, or with what
object, then* daughter should be dragged away from them in a
spirit of such savage and licentious outrage, was a mystery
which they could not fathom. The scene of separation was,
indeed, a terrible one. It required both strength and violence
to tear the parents from their child. As for Rose herself,
although distracted and stunned by this sudden and unwonteu
violence, she was firm, and did everything in her power to con-
sole her bereaved parents. In fact, she felt not terror so much
as resentment at this atrocious and cowardly outrage upon the
peace and happiness of a family who had kept themselves alooi
from the political convulsions of the times, and had, conse-
quently, every claim to protection from the law. Her cheek
mantled, and her eye flashed with indignation, but she knew
that resistance and entreaty were both in vain, and, turning to
her parents, she said, as she adjusted her cloak about her shoul-
ders, addressing them :

"You both forget — we all forget — that there is a God
above us, who can protect the innocent. Think of this, and
take your daughter's word for it, that no man shall ever bring
me to either guilt or shame while I have life in my body ;
but, in the meantime, I trost in the protection of the Al-
mighty, who, should all human aid fail, is able to protect me
When you see Con M'Mahon, tell him not to fear me ; I will
either live or die his : and I am sure that both he and you
will do everything in your power to take me out of danger.
In the meantime, don't be afraid ; trust to God, and the inten-
tion that is in my own heart, should everything else fail me."

After one last heart-rending embrace they were then sepa-
rated ; and indeed it was evident from the silence and appar-
ent reluctance even of those hardened veterans, that the task

THI HUSH EAPPAMCB. ft

which had been committed them was one from which their rery
hearts revolted. Their leader, Stinson, took no personal part
in the separation of Rose from her parents. On the contrary,
his tough and indurated heart seemed to have been moved by
what had taken place before him, and his deportment, at first
rough and surly, changed by degrees into a mood that In-to-
kened a sympathy which the nature of his duty rendered it
impossible, if not unsafe, for him either to exhibit by his man-
ner, or to express in words. At all events, she was placed
behind Stinson, who, in order to prevent her brothers or any
of the family from dogging them on their way, placed a guard
both upon the dwelling-house and the out-houses, who remained
at their posts until all hope of discovering the route they had
taken became utterly impossible, after which they took their
way, and disappeared about a couple of hours before morn-
ing.

It is utterly impossible to describe the grief and distraction
of her miserable parents and family on that woful and un-
happy night. After their feelings, however, had somewhat
subsided, or, we should rather say, when their very hearts had
become broken down and exhausted, her mother said, address*
ing her husband and the rest :

" Come, Brian, and all of you, our tears can do our darlin'
little good ; think of her own blessed words — trust in the Al-
mighty. Since we cannot help her, then, any way else, let ni
pray to that Almighty for her, and implore Him to protect
her innocence and her goodness from the snares that her ero-
naie8 may lay for her, and to entreat that He may break down
their power over her, and disappoint their evil designs against
her ; for, poor girl, she has nobody now but that Alraigbtv to
protect her."

They then knelt down to pray for her safety and present
lion from all evil ; and, as they offered up those heart-felt and

10 MDMOND COUKT o'ttAJCLOW,

agonizing prayers, it was pitiable to hear the deep grow*
and irrepressible sobs by whic n they were accompanied. To-
ward morning, when the guards that had been left by Stln-
son, for the purposes already mentioned, had taken then- de
partnre, her brothers made their appearance in the house, and
on hearing that their sister was violently carried away, under cir-
cumstances so unaccountable and suspicious, their hearts were
at once rent by grief, apprehension, and indignation. What,
however, could the poor boys do? Indignation was vain,
grief was vain, and nothing remained but to await the return
of morning, in order to take such steps as might be deemed
most effectual for her recovery.

About nine or ten o'clock the next day, the melancholy
account of this daring and outrageous abduction had gone
abroad through the whole parish. The consternation, we need
scarcely say, was general, and the sympathy felt for this peace-
ful and unhappy family at once profound and active. Their
neighbors, friends, and acquaintances, all offered their services;
but, alas, what could be done ? They had no trace of her, and
nothing to guide them but the fact that she had been taken
away by a military party, in consequence, as had been stated
by the leader of that party, of their having sheltered Patchy
Baccach, whom they denounced as a setter for the Rappareea,
and that she must be detained a prisoner until Patchy should
be given up to them. Whether Patchy was a setter for the
Rapparees or not, none of them could tell ; but there were
persons among them who hinted that, if Patchy was a setter
for anybody, it was much more likely that he was a setter foi
the military against the Rapparees ; for that it was well
known he had been seen prettv frequently about the Armagh
barracks drinking and carousing with the soldiers. This cer-
tainly looked suspicious, especially when his visit to the house
of Brian Callan was connected with that of the military upo*

THE IRISH KAFFABKB. 12

the same night. Others, howerer, defended the Baccach, and
•aid it was well known that he conld deceive a saint.

" He goes among ,he sogere," they said, " to drink wid
them, and then to pick oat o' them where they've got ordhers
to go next to take the Rapparees ; and then he goes and puts
the Rapparees on their guard — gives them the hard word."

While discussing this point, which we are not now about tc
determine, young Con M'Mahon entered the house, and imme
diately a pause occurred in the conversation. All eyes were
turned upon him, and many persons, in a low voice, not in-
tended for his ear, whispered : " God pity him I the Lord look
down on him ! but the poor boy is to be felt for this day, if
«ver a man was."

When Rose's lover entered his cheek was pale, but his eyes
blazing. " What," said he, " what has happened ? Can what
•'ve heard be true ? Is Rose gone ? "

Her father seized his hand, and replied, with an emotion
which almost deprived him of the power of utterance :

" She is gone, Con, she is gone ; but where, for the pres-
ent, we cannot telL She was taken away by the sogerg,
ind that's all we know about it ; but, ahagnr, there is no
time to be lost. We must all set out and try to find some
account of her. What do you intend to do ? "

The young man paused, but on hearing the fact of her ab-
duction confirmed, like her father, he was unable for some
time to make any reply. A hot tear or two started to hit
(<>ye, but he dashed them off, and seemed for a moment the
I very impersonation of rengeance. After a little, however,
as if conscious of the necessity of coolness, he made no
effort to become calm, and to a certain extent succeeded.

" Now," said he, " tell me all ; tell me every word they
•id, and every thing that happened last night."

This the father did ; and when M'Mahon had heard it all

BSDMOND COTOT

be said, with another blaze of indignation ; ' Come, Briaa
Callan, come with me to Armagh barracks. I think I know
the villain that is at the bottom of this. Come, you and I
only ; who has such a right as her father, and the man that u
betrothed to her ? We must find her, I tell you — or if not,
all the law in Europe — no, nor all the soldiers in Europe,
won't save him from my vengeance. What is my life if she
is gone ! Nothing. I don't value it at one grain of chaff.
Come, let us start."

" This is too much outspoken, Con," said her father. Don't
talk as you do ; you ought to know the enemies you may
make by such language. I am sure the magistrates of the
neighborhood won't overlook this outrage upon a peaceable
and loyal subject. Let us apply to them, then, and I'm iu
hopes that they'll assist us, as it is their duty to do, and to
throw light upon the misery that b&s come upon us."

" I hope they will," replied M'Mabcu ; " there are many of
them good men ; and, on the other hand, many of them perse-
cutors. But, in the manetime, come with me straight to Ar
magh, to find out there whether any of the men have been
abroad npon duty last night."

" Very well, replied her father " In the name of God, let
ns go."

M'Mahon had come well mounted upon a stout horse to the
bouse of his intended father-in-law, and in a few minutes the
old man was in the saddle, and both set out for Armagh bar-
racks. They reached there iu a few honrs, and, as M'Mahon'i
object was to see the Colonel of the regiment in which Luca*
held his commission, they soou succeeded in procuring ah inter
veiw with tha* gallant gentleman. His age wat> about sixty
and his appearance that of a mild and benevolent man, as in
fact he was, If he had a fault ci all as a military officer, it
»*s an pxees? of indulgence to his subordinates whom he over-

THE IRISH RAPPAREt. 55

fooked iu many escapades, which, as they were not exactly
connected with any breach of discipline or duty, and as peace
now prevailed over the country, he looked npon them with
rather a lenient eye. Notwithstanding this good-humored
connivance at small offenses — which could scarcely be termed
anything more, as ihey related to the profession, than semi-
official at the mist — yet was he known to be both stern and
severe whenever any deliberate violation of duty was com-
mitted He was a bachelor, and lived in a private house near
the barracks : but as soon as he understood that Callan and
M'Mahon wished to see him, they were immediately ad-
mitted.

" Well," said he, when they entered, " what is the matter T
Have these d — d Rapparees been with you ? Confound the
scoundrels, they are harassing us to death in pursuit of them,
but to no purpose. There is scarcely a day that we have
not a party out after them ; and after all, we return as we
went— no, faith, not as we went, but my men jaded and fa-
tigued to death. I suppose you have been robbed ?"

44 I have, sir,'' replied Callan, " but not by the Rappareea."

44 How is that ?"

44 On last night a party of soldiers came to my house, in the
middle of the night, and took away mv only daughter, by force
and violence.1'

44 By force and violence 1" he exclaimed, starting — 44 a party
of military take away your daughter by force and violence —
Inpi esible ; and in the king's name, too — more impossible
still."

44 It's truth, yonr honor, — too true it is, God help me ; and,
what is more, we don't know where she is, nor where they
brought her to."

The Colonel looked at the old mar with astonishment, bat
at once perceived by his tears, and the deep affliction witk

34 REDMOND COUNT 0?HANL01f

which he spoke, that some gross or unusual outrage had beei
committed.

" Why, this," he said, " would seem almost incredible. Are
yon certain, poor man, that it was not the Rapparees who
took her ?"

" Quite certain, sir ; they were troopers, in uniform, about
a dozen or more of them. As for the Rapparees, it is a rule
among them never to injure any woman, whether rich or poor,
but rather to protect them. Their Captain would not allow
it."

"Ah ! that Captain," exclaimed the other. " D — n the
rascal ; many a long and fruitless chase he has led my poor
fellows : however, we shall have him yet. In the meantime,
tell me all about this business ; for, as it stands, I can make
nothing of it."

The old man then related at full length, all the circum-
stances of the outrage, precisely as the reader is acquainted
with them. When the Colonel heafd him to the close, he
paused for some time, but at length said*

"I am not surprised at your afflietk*;, poor man. Thai
law against Rapparees and Tories has not been acted on for
some years. You say the lame rebel is uot related to yon ;
and, in that case, I don't see why either you or yours should
be held responsible for him."

" He is only a poor Baccach, your honor, who goes about
begging from house to house for his bit — God help him!"

" Sir," said M'Mahon, who now spoke for the first time,
" we came to you in ordher to know whether there was ary
party of your men out last night ; and we say, too, with too
much truth, I'm afraid, that we have raison for suspectin' one
of your own officers for beiu' at the bottom of this villainy ;
tnd if we find that he is, by the eter "

The old man put his hand upon his mouth before he could

THB IRISH BAPPABKB 85

complete the oath. " COD, for God's sake, will you keep
yourself quiet in his honor's presence. This young man, sir,"
he added, addressing the Colonel, " has a right to feel as much
as any one livin' on this subject He and my daughter were
to be married in a couple of weekH "

" The officer's name I spake of, sir," persisted M'Mahon, but
somewhat more calmly, " is Lucas ; and we know that he
tried to break down her virtue by a falsehood, and attempts
at bribery, until he was near gettin' himself stabbed to the
heart by her for his pains. You'll find, sir, upon inquiry, that
the profligate had a party of your men out last night, and uu-
dher false pretenses, too."

Colonel Caterson — for such was his name — appeared at
once to have been seriously impressed by the words which
M'Mahon had just uttered. A new light seemed to break in
upon him ; and after reflecting in silence for a little, he at
length said :

" Come, I was on my way to the barracks as you came in ;
et us go there. I shall inquire into this matter, and strictly,
too."

On his arrival there, he immediately instituted the necessavr
inquiries, and especially whether Cornet Lucas had been out
with any military party on the preceding night, to which he
was answered directly and solemnly in the negative. Comet
Lucas himself, upon being sent for, appeared, and assured him
upon his honor that he had not left his room during the
whole night, as he could prove by several witnesses — which he
did do— and, in fact, the unsuspecting Colonel discovered that
not one of his men had been out beyond the hour usually ap-
pointed for their return to barracks.

" Now," said he, addressing Callan and M'Mahon, " you
•ee I have made every necessary inquiry as to the cause of
jour trouble and suspicions. It is quite certain that cc men

86 REDMOND COUNT o'HANLOX,

from these barracks were at your house last night, nor had
anything to do with the outrage committed against your
daughter and your family."

This intelligence was anything but agreeable ; and young
M'Mahoi, though forced to rest satisfied with it, maintained
his opinion that the good-natured Colonel was imposed upon,
and that Lucas had contrived to effect the abduction without Ins
knowledge. This, indeed, was a very natural suspicion, if we
reflect upon the loose and neglected state of discipline which
prevailed in the British army at that period. Be this as it
may, Callan and he were obliged to return home in such a
state of sorrow and disappointment as may easily be conceived
by our readers.

In the meantime, every effort was made for the recovery of
the fair Rose of Lisbuy. Parties were out in all directions.
The whole neighborhood — the whole parish — was canvassed
and searched, but with the same melancholy result. Neither
trace nor tidings of her could be found.- The grief of her par-
ents and family was excessive — terrible ; and as for young
M'Mahon, he was in a state of such absolute distraction, that
his friends began to fear his reason would utterly abandon
him. He could not rest — he could not partake of his ordi-
nary meals ; but kept riding about from place to place in such
a state of despair and apparent insanity, that he became the
subject of general compassion.

On the uight after the outrage, about (he hour of eleven
o'clock, he was on his return from one of those hopeless exeur
sions, when he found himself challenged in a part of the ro:id
that was peculiarly solitary and lonely. Three men on horse-
back approached him, and one of them, in a full, rich, an 1 m»l
low voice, after commanding him to stand, said :

"Sir, deliver your purse at the peril of your life.'

"Ah 1" replied M'Mahon, " there are three to one again*!

THE IRISH RAPPAREK. ft

•e ; otherwise you should not have it without a struggle —
nor even as it is, but that I am unarmed "

" Come," said the man who spoke, addressing the rest, " thia
fellow has spunk in him : here, take my pistols and cutlass,
and retire, and by no means interrupt us. I will either teach
the gentleman a lesson, or will learn one from him. Alight,
sir ! I am now unarmed as you are, and if you prove yourself
able to retain your purse, why, well and good — it shall be safe ;
hut if not, you must go home without it."

" It is a fair offer," replied M'Mahon, alighting, and I will-
ingly accept it. Take it, then, if'you can."

Now, before we proceed farther in the history of this ex-
ploit, we beg to inform our readers that young Con M'Mahon
was one of the stoutest, most active, and courageous young
fellows in the barony. In fact, there was no man in it who,
In a personal contest, had any chance with him ; and, besides,
on this occasion, the loss of Rose Callan, and her mysterious
abduction, had made him altogether desperate. At all events,
the highwayman and he met, and in less than half a minute
he felt himself, without receiving a single blow, stretched upon
the road, the knees of the highwayman upon his body, and hit
throat within a gripe that he felt to be herculean.

" Do not strangle me," said M'Mahon ; " take my purse,
and let me up."

" No," replied the other ; " I will not take your purse — I
aever took a purse in my life ; I always receive them with the
coasent of the donor. There now," he added, rising, " put
your hand in your pocket, take out your purse, and hand it
to me like a gentleman, saying : ' Sir, I present you with thin,
and I thank you for your forbearance.' "

" Here is my purse," replied M'Mahon, "and J mus". say,
you deserve it ; for he is no common man who could have taken
It as you did, and from me, too. It is nut, however, my

88 BKDMONO COUNT O'HANLON,

parse that is troubling me ; what is ten pound* to me, or tea
thousand, in the affliction that is over me ?"

"Why," asked the highwayman, "what affliction is over
you?"

M'Mahou then related, with an emotion which he could not
restrain, the calamity which befell his betrothed, under circum
•tances of such unprecedented outrage ; at the same time,
•wearing solemnly, that if Lucas proved to be the man, he
would deliberately shoot him dead.

" Ha !" exclaimed the highwayman, " and so you suspect
Lucas ; but there you are wrong. I have reason to know that
Lucas is not the man ; however, the thing must be looked to.
Stay where you are for a few minutes ; but, I beg your pardon,
you have not told me your name."

M'Mahou then gave him a brief account of his name and
family, after which, the highwayman paused for some time, and,
having again desired him to keep his place for a little, ha
joined his companions, with whom he entered into consultation
for a few minutes, after which they all returned and joined him.

" Now, M'Mahon," said the Rapparee, it so happens that 1
know your family well. There was a day 'when they weie
staunch friends to their unfortunate country, and sealed their
affection for it with their blood."

" And would do so still," replied the young man, " if the
occasion offered."

" I do not doubt it," replied the other ; " but the times are
now changed, and, perhaps, so much the better. It is mad
ness to continue a losing and a hopeless game. I now return
you your purse precisely as I received it from you. It is not
upon you, or such as you, that I wish to exercise my office ;
but upon those who are enemies to the liberty of my country.
I like the courage with which you would have defended your
property."

THE IRISH RAPPARU. 8S

" I thought ," replied M'Mahon, " that there was bat on«
man who, upoi equal ground, could have taken it from me."

" And it is, probably, well for you that that man is not here,
or, perhaps, you would have gone home with lighter pockets.
In the meantime, I shall see that man to night ; and, if I po»
less any influence over him — as I think I do — it will go hard
if I don't prevail upon him to try and restore the fair girl, to
whom you are betrothed, and perhaps inflict some punishment
upon the villain who forced her away. The law is now all
upon one side, and we must only endeavor to balance the ac-
count by availing ourselves of such opportunities against it as
may offer, or as we can create by our wit and ingenuity. You
may now go home in safety, and perhaps you shall hear from
me ere long. If I succeed with him — of course, you know
who I mean — there is a chance that your promised bride may
be restored to you sooner than you imagine. This, howevev,
if effected at all, must be upon the condition that you keep
your adventure of this night a profound secret. You know
the reward that is offered for the head of the man we allud«
to, and you know that spies are on the watch for him by night
and day. His motions are consequently restricted, and any-
thing that he may do hi your business uust be at the very risk
of his life. Now, good night, and safe home to yon !" And,
having uttered these words, he and his party proceeded upoo
tkeir way

»0 REDMOND COUNT O'HANLOM,

CHAPTER III

AT the perbd of our narrative, there was no such body us
Ireland as a constabulary or police of any kind, either tc pro
ic-rve the peace of the country, or to repress the local out
fages which were continually breaking out in it. All this duty —
•nd a harassing one it was — devolved upon the country mag-
grates and private gentlemen, aided by the military, who
were called upon to discharge the duties of our present police,
as well as those of soldiers. At this period, too, the country
«ras overrun and ravaged by lawless bands of Rapparees, and
tne still more atrocious body of Tories, the latter of whom
epared neither life nor property in their merciless depredations.
With them religion, of which they were as ignorant as the
unites about them, was no safeguard whatever. The Catho-
lic was robbed and slaughtered with as- little remorse as the
Protestant, whilst among the Rapparees, on the other hand,
there was moderation and forbearance — the great and estab-
lished principle on which they acted being, never to shed blood
unless in defense of life, and under no circumstances to injure
or maltreat any of the female sex, no matter what their rank
or condition in life might be. The humanity of this regulation,
however, was due to the celebrated individual who drew up the
rules of their conduct, and by whose skill and ability they wei e
organized and commanded. The discipline which he estal>
fished was scarcely ever violated, and whenever it happened to
be so, the offending party was severely punished, and in some
cases handed over to the laws of the Jand. The reader may
think this a strange and imprudent proceeding on the part of
the Rapparees, as it might be naturally apprehended that such
individuals would, as a matter of course, betray their accon>

THE IRISH RAPPAREE. 41

plices to the government, from a principle of vengeance against
then, as well as to secure their owi pardon. This, however, in
a mistake ; because the government had, from day to day, exact
information regarding them, so that very little could be added
to it, even by one of themselves. They shifted their positions
perpetually, and scarcely ever remained twenty-four hours in
the same place, so that the information of to-day was of no
earthly use for to-morrow. The government of the day, be-
sides, was rather imbecile, and although the Duke of Ormond
issued many severe proclamations against them, containing
offers of large rewards for the apprehension of their leader, yet
for many a long year he could boast of but very slender suc-
cess. Be this as it may, at the time we write of, whatever
military forces lay in Ireland were scattered over the kingdom
at large, in order to be able to check the outrages, and
secure the depredators and murderers, if possible, wherever
they appeared. The magistrates and other country gentlemen
could not act either rigorously or safely without their aid, and
hence their distribution, as we said, over the general surface
of the country. For this reason, then, it so happened, that in
the few barracks that were then to be found in Ireland, there
generally remained but a small handful of men — just enough,
as was calculated, to preserve the peace of the neighborhood.
The reader will soon perceive why we allude to these facts,
which are well known to every reader of Irish history to be
correct and authentic.

When the party who took away Rose Callan left her fa-
ther's house, chey turned — after passing along the boreen which
led to it, and on reaching the highway — toward the town or
city of Armagh. The poor girl's distraction was indescriba-
ble, and her grief such as ought to have excitedlcompassioo
in any heart in which lay a single spark of humanity. ID
deed, it touched that of the man behind whom she sat.

«2 REDMO.VD COUNT o'HANLON,

" Oh, where," she said, as well as her sobbing would permit
her, " where, hi God's name, are you bringing me ? Are you
ft. man ? Have you no compassion ? You are a soldier, and
ought to be brave ; but surely no brave man would suffer him-
self to become an instrument in such a cruel and heartless
outrage as this. Have you not the Rapparees and Tories to
pursue ; but what have either I or my family done that we
should be treated as rebels and robbers ? They are neither
Rapparees nor Tories, but an innocent and inoffensive people,
who conduct ourselves peaceably, and have never done or said
anything against the government or the laws. As for the
fiaccach, we know nothing about him, except that he says he
was at the siege of Limerick ; but he is not a drop's blood to
us, and why should we suffer fer him ? We only help him,
and give him an odd night's lodging, like any other poor man
that's forced to beg his bit."

" God help you, my poor girl," replied the man, considera-
bly softened, "it was not for the Baccach we came. That
Baccach's a favorite in the barracks — and if I don't mistake,
is a spy for the government against the Rapparees and To-
ries."

" He may be so," she replied, " and the greater villain he
* for it."

" How ?" said the man. " Is it for serving the government
of the country ? That is dangerous talk."

" Whether for the government or against it," she replied,
*• every spy is a villain, and none but a villain would be a spy
for any party ; but what do / care about that ? I ask again
where, in God's name, are you bringing me ?"

" There is no use in telling you, my poor girl 1 I and those
that are with me must do our duty."

" Duty 1" she replied indignantly. " Do you ca 1 dragging
to unoffending; girl, hi the clouds of the night, awaj from her

THE IRISH RAH'ARKE. 43

bmily, an act that comes within the duty of a soldier ? If
you be a man, you ought to blush for it. Why, what is the
conduct of a spy to this ? For God's sake, let me go home-
say I escaped, and that you could not find me iu the darkness.
If you do, and that you come to my father's house, he will re-
ward you well for it."

They had been at this time a little in advance of the rest of
the party, and the dragoon to whom she spoke put his horse
to an easier pace, and was about, as she thought, to make some
reply to this proposal, when the others, whether from accident
or design, trotted up and joined them.

" Sergeant," said one of them, " what do you stop for ?"

11 Why, to get my snuff-box," he replied, " and to have a
•inch. I'm danged but my nose is lost for the want of one."

" Very well," replied the ruffian, " take it, and remember
that we have a sharp look out behind you here."

They then proceeded, but he continued gradually to advance
* little ahead of them, after which Rose heard him say, as if
In soliloquy :

" No, no — it can't be done — I dare not risk it. My dear
girl," he added, " do not talk to me — I feel that it is out of
my power to assist you. All I can say is, put your trust in
God ; but at the best it is a bad business, and I am sorry 1
bad any hand in it."

" I am afraid," she replied, weeping bitterly, " that that is
all that is left me — but it may be enough. I am innocent of
any crime, and my faith in the Almighty is stronger than my
fear of men ; besides, if the worst comes to the worst, it may
to that I carry my own remedy as well as his pun'-shment about
»e — that is, if my suspicions are right, as I fear they are."

In due time they reached Armagh, where, witr the excep-
tion of two or tnree, they separated, and contrived to get into
the barracks one at a time. That the; were not challenged

44 REDMOND COUNT o'lIA.VLCN,

on entering the gate resulted from the fact that Lucas had
contrived to place upon guard some of his own favorite men,
who were his creatures on similar occasions. In order to pre-
vent all possibility of noise, Rose was hurried in between two
men, one of whom tied a thick handkerchief over her month,
in order to prevent her from crying out. The outrage, indeed,
was a daring one, and at a first view as foolishly and incau-
tiously contrived as it was daring. The fact, however, was,
that the barracks at the tune were nearly vacant, not more
than one or two companies being then in occupation of them.
The consequence was that Lucas, who knew that there were
spare rooms enough in which to shut her up, had selected one
in a remote position, and to which — as it and the others ad-
joining it were at the time uninhabited, though well fur-
nished— he resolved to commit her, as being free from any iu
tercourse with the inmates of the place. An old woman — *
confidential wretch of his — was prepared to attend upon her
and under her guidance, and that of the two ruffians who haa
brought her into the barracks, she was hurried to the lonelj
room we have mentioned. Here she found candles, a fire, anc!
everything laid out for supper, not omitting two decanters o(
wine that stood upon the table. By the time she entered thr
"oom, she felt herself nearly suffocated, and would have swoon
sd for wf\nt of breath had she not — now that her hands wert
free — at once removed the handkerchief from her month
Having done so she panted violently several times, until at
u-ngth she found herself able to breathe without difficulty, upon
«-hich she looked at the old crone, and her first words were :

" Are you a woman ? have you the heart and feelings of a
woman ? Can you see such an outrage as this committed upou
a young, inoffensive creature of your own sex ? No ; I can't
think it possible. Oh, you surely will ha\ e compassion upoo
toe, 1 implore you, in the name of that God who is.tQ.judg*

rHt IRISH RAPPAREB. 45

yon, tc pity me 1 Oh, enable me to escape from the villainy
of this man. As you hope for mercy, enable me to escape !
My father is a wealthy man, and will reward you well if you
do."

The vile old creature ga\e a grin at first, by way of reply,
out after a little she answered :

" Foolish girl, don't stand there crying and wringing your
hands. What are you afraid of? Is it of one of the hand-
somest young genllutncn in his majesty's service ? Pity ! troth
1 have neither pity nor compassion for you, nor the good for-
tune that's waiting for you. I only wish I was your age,
and as handsome as yon are, and maybe I wouldn't think my
self the happy girl if I was in your place. Here now; take a
glass of wine, and it will comfort you and put you in good
spirits. What's father or mother to the like of such a beauti-
ful young fellow as Cornet Lucas? Come, my pretty girL
take this glass of wine and it will cheer you."

There are some individuals — especially old women, wh<;n
they happen to be wicked, as was the case here — upon who«e
features and whole person there is legible and visible to tie
most inexperienced eye, such an unquestionable and diabolic it
spirit of iniquity, that by one glance at them we are as capabJe
of understanding their character as if being an acquaintance for
years. The tones of her voice, too, afforded as strong and
at undecided a proof of her depravity as did her features.
Altogether, poor Rose felt that so far as the fiendish old
* retch was concerned, there was no hope for her She ac-
cordingly sat down on a chair, and maintained an unbroken
silence to everything she said — a mode of proceeding which an-
noyed the vicious old crone to the quick. She felt that she
was now treated with contempt, as well as with hatred and
indignation. Respect for the taste of our readers prevents IM
from detailing the infamous tendency of her onrersation, and

46 REDMOND COUNT o'HANLOX,

the vile scope of her arguments, in attempting to undermine
the pure principles of this virtuous and beautiful creature
Rose, when she saw and felt the spirit of the female devil she
had to deal with, never once opened her lips to her, as we have
said. Neither did she now shed a tear. She saw there was
a terrible trial before her, and her whole spirit was absorbed
in its result. The girl was in despair, or very near it ; but
despair, even in cowards, has a courage that is often desper-
ate : what, then, must it not be in a person who possesses
Birong natural courage, as was the case with her ? Her tears,
and the weakness which occasioned them, abandoned her ; nay,
her very fears, to a certain degree, left her, and she felt pre-
pared, and almost anxious, for the coming trial, with a hope
that it might end in her favor. Such, indeed, is true courage,
especially when founded upon virtue and resolution ; and shall
we not add to this her strong confidence in the protection of
God ? At length the vicious old sibyl left her, and after hav-
ing locked the door outside, Rose could hear her hated foot-
steps wending along the passage as she departed. Human na-
ture is a strange mystery. Now that the wretch, bad as she
was, had gone, Rose felt as if a portion of her strength and
defense had departed with her. She did not think that any
thing in the shape of her own sex could be aught but a pro-
tection to her ; and the terror which she had partially subdued
again returned upon her. The solitude of her position, and
its remoteness from all human assistance, depressed her wrofully.
But again the thought of the Almighty, and a sense of hie
overruling providence, once more came to her support, and
whilst in this state of mind she knelt down and prayed fer-
rently to God, and with bitter tears of supplication be&.ught
his assistance. Having risen from her knees she looked around
the room, and examined the windows, to try whether any mod*
of escape might present itself ; but alas, the scrutiny was hope

THE IRISH RAPPAREK. 41

less The windows were secured and immovable, so far as she
coulJ ascertain, and resisted all her attempts to open them.
Finding the melancholy and hopeless nature of her imprison-
ment she sat down, and again her courage and resolution re-
turned to her. It seemed that her situation resembled the hor-
rors of some troubled dream, and once or twice she pressed
her temples, looked at her hands, rose up and sat down again,
with a hope that it might be one of those dreadful phantasms
which sometimes persecute us in our sleep, and which we feel
as a reality until we escape, and are relieved from them by
awaking. Thesa experiments satisfied her, however, that it
was neither a dream nor an illusion, but a frightful and hor-
rible truth. Whilst this awful agony wrought so terribly on
her spirit, she heard the key of the door gently insinuating it-
self into the lock — she heard it turn — she heard the bolt shoot
back, and the next moment Lucas entered the apartment. He
immediately locked the door, and put the key in his pocket.

" My dear girl," said he, " what good angel brought you
here ? If I knew his name I would pray to him."

" A better angel, sir," she replied, " will take me, I trust,
safe out of this."

14 He must be a very good one, then, and a great deal
stronger than me ; for you are now in my power, and I would
be glad to see the angel that would take you out of it. Tou
repulsed me once successfully, but you will not do it a second
t:me."

" Don't be too sure of that, sir," sh«j replied ; " keep your
distance," for he was approaching her. "Sir," she added,
" keep your distance. I wish I could address you as a gentle-
man and a soldier. I entreat you, sir, if you be either, to set
me at liberty, and allow me to return in safety to my sorrow
Ing and outraged family."

" I have not the slightest notion of it, I assure you," he r»

48 REDMOND COUNT o'HANLON,

plied ; " but, listen, I would rather win you by love and affeo
tion than have recourse to violence."

" Violence ! you surely dare not have recourse to violence •
you know what the consequences must be to yourself. I en-
treat you, then, if you be either a gentleman or a soldier, to
set me at liberty, and let me go home to my parents. They
are not without friends who will bring you to an account for
any violence you may dare to offer me. The Johnstons of
the Fews are particular friends to my family. They are our
landlords ; and you may believe me when I tell you, that
if you even attempt to insult or injure me, they will bring you
to a short and sharp account for it."

The knowledge of this fact staggered the young villain for
a few moments, and he seemed to pause for a while and be
come thoughtful. While he is thinking, we will say a fer
words about that once remarkable family. The Johnstons o(
the Fews, then, were the most celebrated and active men o*
their day as Tory hunters, and had won a reputation as ei
tensive as the kingdom itself, for pursuing, capturing, a no
bringing to justice those unprincipled banditti who robberf
and murdered in all directions, and kept the whole country hi
a rtate of terror and ferment. The activity, courage, ani
perseverance of this family were astonishing ; and, in trutl.
both the country and the government were under great obb
gations to them. They were also strong, but open opponent*
to persons of the Catholic creed ; but their principles as land
lords were decidedly feudal. Of course, they had a vast num-
ber of Roman Catholic tenantry under them, and although
they proclaimed themselves bitter enemies to the Ch irch of
Home and her adherents, yet, as the Catholics on their pro-
perty were their Catholics, woe betide the man — no matter
what his rank or condition might be — who happened to offend
or injure any one of them. The consequence was, that their vio>

THE IRISH RAPPAREB. 4t

fence was looked upon, especially by the Catholics of the day,
as " full of sound and fury, signifying nothing ;" and if any
person of that religion living on their property felt aggrieved,
the first individual of might or rank to whom they ap»
n);od was certain to be some one of the "Johnstons of the
Fows."

Our readers will now understand the force of Rose's argu-
ment, when she pleaded their relation as landlords to her
family.

" Well," said he, " let the Johnstons of the Fews rest — there
is no one going to interfere with them ; but, in the meantime,
I don't see why I should not prove myself a hospitable Irish-
man— why I should not shake hands with my beautiful guest,
and welcome her to the place I have provided for her. Thero
is no harm in that, I hope. I mean it all in love and affec-
tion."

As he spoke he was again approaching her.

" Stand back, sir" she replied, quickly and resolutely draw-
ing an Irish skean, or dagger, out of her bosom. " There's
only two lives between as ; advance another step and one of
them will be taken. Give up your villainous design at once
for if you approach another step, I will plunge this skean into
your body, and if I fail in that, I will plunge it into my own;
so that, iu whatever way it may end, you will lose your ob-
ject Stand back, then ; for, as God who sees my heart and
I nows my determination, I will keep my word. In whatever
way !t may end, this will be a black night to you."

"You know," said he, "I might bring in assistance, and
lave you disarmed. You know that ; so you may a? well
throw your skean aside, for I will do it."

"• You may," she replied ; " Lat the first glimpse I catch
of any assistance coming with yon, that moment will I ?tab
myself to the heart. In anr sense, in every sense, I defj ye;«

10 REDMOND COUNT 0*HANLON,

then ; and besides, I trust in the protection of God, who ii
stronger than you and all your wicked instruments."

" Very well," he replied, " I shall take another course. Be

assured I shall subdue you yet, although I would rather do it

by kindness and affection, as I have said, than otherwise.

i Did you never hear of such a thing as ' starving the garrison ?"•

" I have some notion of what you mean," she returned ;
"but, even so, I have my own remedy, thank God, and
will use it sooner than ever you should gain your vile and
cowardly purpose."

"Very well," said he, "we shall see the upshot. As I
have'*life, I shall starve you here until you will not be able to
use your dagger. I now leave yon, and remember that you
will find my words prophetic and true."

" And so shall you mine," she replied ; " but think of the
consequences of this conduct — what will they be to you ? It
cannot pass without discovery, and when it is known you will
be dragged to disgrace and punishment. You will die a
shameful death, if you persevere in your wickedness."

" I leave you now," said he ; " but out of my hands you
never shall escape until you are subdued and overcome."

" I have told you before," she replied, " that it cannot be.
You are bringing your own fate upon your own head."

" Time will tell," said he ; " but I now leave you."

He accordingly withdrew, locking the door after him ; and
in a few minutes the old crone returned, and, without uttering
• syllable, carried off with her every particle of food and every
drop of drink that was in the room, with the exception of one
decanter of wine. She locked the door as before, and poor
Rose was left in solitude and silence, in such a state of mind
as it is not necessary for us to describe to our readers.

She was a brave and great girl ; but there are hundreds of
thousands as brave and as great throughout the respectablt

THK IRISH RAITAREE 5l

peasant homesteads of oar country. Whilst Lucas was in
conversation with her, and indeed so long as he remained in
the room, her beautiful form seemed, as it were, transfigured
into the very spirit of resolution and courage ; her cheeks and
temples glowed with the determined purpose of her heart, and
her beautiful eyes flashed with a fire that shot from them like
IFghtning, and gave unquestionable proof that the dreadful
resolution she had threatened she would most assuredly exe-

On that night, Patchy the Baccach — whom our readers, we
presume, may already suspect of playing a double game be-
*ween the Rapparees and the military — came to the resolution
«*f discovering, if possible, the place of concealment to which
the unfortunate girl might be committed. With this intention
te crossed the country toward Armagh, which he reached
I0me shun time previous to the arrival of the party. He had
been permitted to sleep occasionally in some unoccupied lum-
ber-room in the barracks, and, not unfrequently, was allowed
to spend his nights in the guard-room, where he amused the
men with wonderful narratives of his adventures while in the
Irish army. The soldiers knew that he was under the protec-
tion and in the confidence of the officers, and on this account
he was admitted freely, and at all hours. On the night in
question he presented himself, and was received with that
good-humored but contemtptuous banter, to which he was well
accustomed, and to which he always replied with very amiioing
drollery.

" Well, Patchy, what good news to-night, you lame old
rebel?"

"Why," replied Patchy, " do you call me an ould rel>el ? 1
look odder than I am, I know ; but maybe if you were »fther
harrowing all that I ploughed, you'd have three wrinkles in
f onr face for my oue. Ould 1 a man at forty-two is only ii

ftl RKTOIO.VD COUNT o'HANLOW,

his prime of life, and if it were not for this lameness, Fd tach«
some of yon what activity manes. Sure, I often danced a
hornpipe upon a soap-bubble widout ever breakin' it. Mav
rone 1 but I was nearly cotch by the same lameness though
the night the bloody Rapparees gave me the chivvy-chase. To
think of the villains followin' me to within a hundred yards of
the barracks 1"

" The ground must have swallowed them, then, Patchy ; for
when we turned out to pursue them, there wasn't a man of the
scoundrels to be found."

" But sure, they say their Captain can make himself invisible
whenever he likes, and that he carries bracken seed about him
for the very purpose."

" Faith, and they must all have carried it about them OP
that night ; for devil a man of them was visible at all. Well
but have you no news in particular to-night ?"

"Troth, some" he replied, significantly, "has good news to
night, and some has but indifferent. "I missed my set this timt
at the Raps ; but you know the worse luck now, the bettei
again. It'll go hard wid me or I'll have them yet especial Ij
the Captain. Och, I'm tired and starved, and must g*
and throw myself on some shake-down in the ould lumber
mom."

Instead of going to the lumber-room, however, he kept
dodging about the barracks until the troopers arrived, wher
he planted himself opposite the windows in order to reconnoitre
their proceedings, and to ascertain, if possible, how they might
impose of the unhappy girl, in whose fate he felt deeply aucl
intensely interested.

" 1 will watch the windows," thought he, " and who knows
but I may find out where they will place her. That's all I
want : for I know the man that will take her out of the heart'?
blood of the barracks, if he only knows where to find her.'

THK IRISH RAPPAREK. 68

The light was fortunately very dark, and be kept walking
np and down opposite the windows. He felt no surprise on
Beeiog Lucas's room lighted — for he was well aware of its po-
sition— but on seeing another apartment in a remote part of
the building, which he knew to have been, until that night,
unoccupied for a considerable time past, he began to entertain
a strong suspicion that it might be that which they had selected
as her place of captivity — at least until her ruin should be ac-
complished. Here he remained until Rose had been left to
herself, and from this position he observed her attempting to
ascertain if any kind of escape were available by the windows.
In making the experiment she had placed the caudle on the
window-ledge, so that he had such a distinct view of her as at
once satisfied him of her identity and the place of her impris-
onment. To communicate with her, however, without the risk
of discovery, he felt to be out of the question ; but he thanked
Qod that he had at least ascertained the locality of the room
in which they had immured her ; and to prevent any possibility
of mistake, he reckoned the windows from the forth point of
the range, until he came to that of the apartment which con-
tained her, and placed a mark of three round stones close to
the wall directly beneath it, lest there might be any mistake in
his reckoning. Having accomplished so much, he felt that to
leave the barracks at that unseasonable hour, after having so
recently returned to them, might occasion suspicion. He ac-
cordingly retired to the luinber-room already mentioned, which
was his usual place of rest when among the military ; and as
he really felt much fatigued after his difficult and harassing
journey across the country, he soon sank into a sleep, at once
deep and refreshing. The next morning he awoke late, but
active and recruited in strength. Having dressed himsell—
if we may say so, considering the habiliments he wore-— be
joined one of the soldiers' messes, where he amused them, and

54 BKDMOKD COUNT o'HANLOW,

breakfasted besides to his heart's content. He then prepared to
leave the barracks, bat on his way was met by Cornet Lucas.

" Well, Patchy," said that gentleman, " how the devil doe«
it happen that you are in barracks this morning ?"

" Faith, for my own safety, your honor," replied Patchy ;
" but how the devil did it happen that you ordhered me to go
to Brian Callan's last night, where a party of your men came
to take me prisoner as a spy to the Rapparees ? Doesn't your
fconor know the hunt they give me about a mouth ago, almost
to the very gate of the barracks, and that mortal man never
had such an escape as I had ?"

" What party, Patchy ? No party from these barracks
was out last night. I believe you know all the men here, and
you can say whether any of them was at Callan's."

"Faith, I can say no such thing," replied Patchy, "for the
best raison in the world, bekase I didn't see them."

" You didn't see them ? That is unfortunate. How did it
happen that you didn't see them ?" *

"Why, sir, bekase when I heard they were lookin' for me, I
tuck to ray scrapers."

" Did they commit any outrage ?"

" Not, sir, that I am aware of, barrin' drivin' me out of my
warm bed, the thieves, when I was tould they were lookin' for
me."

" Patchy, my man, I never thought you a blockhead until
now. Don't you understand it ?"

" The devil a bit, your honor ; it's Greek to me so far."

" Why, Patchy, the villains must have been the Rappareea.
Tea know yourself they're not over head and ears in love with
you."

"Faith, you've hot it there, sir — nor with your honor, either,"
replied Patchy ; " but what I wish to know is, why you MO!
M there last night, sir?"

THK IRISH RAPPARKI. 55

"Simply, Patchy, to bring about what has Happened. 1
•ow know the Rapparees are in this immediate part of the
country. They must have seen yoi goin' to Callan's, and youi
presence there it was which occasioned their midnight visit to
his house. I hope they offered no violence to his family," ho
added, keenly scrutinizing Patchy's countenance as he spoke.
" They say their Captain is in love with Miss Callan."

" That may be, sir ; but it's the first time I ever heard of
It; but why did you send me to where I stood a hundred
chances to one of falling into their hands? Don't you know,
«r, they're on the look-out for me night and day ; and besides,
by sendin' me there, you prevented me from makin' good my
*et upon them. But why did yon send me at all, sir?"

" Why, to satisfy myself that they are in the neighborhood :
and besides I depended upon your own ingenuity in escaping
them. You see I was right ; but I wish you had seen them,
that you might give me some account of their personal appear
•nee."

"Personal appearance, inagh (forsooth). Why, doesn't your
honor know they never appear the same thing two days run-
nin', or rather two nights runnin'; and as for their Captain,
he can change himself in such a way — face, dress, discourse,
and all — that his own men often doesn't know him from
Adam."

" So they say, indeed. In the meantime, I hope they have
offered no violence to Callan's family. Yes, you are right,
Patchy, for it is well known that they sometimes assume the
uniform of his Majesty's British soldiers, and commit the most
atrocious depredations in then* name. It is very probable that
if they committed any outrage upon poor Callan's family last
night, they had recourse to the same disguises. Now, go and
try your hand at tracing their whereabouts. It is clear that
they are in the neighborhood. Ton know the reward that ii

66 REDMOND COUNT o'HANLON,

offered by the Government for their leader, and that if jot
enable us to secure him, you will get an ample share of it."

" Isn't that what I'm thinkin' of, sir, day and night ; but, to
tell you the truth, the people — I mane the Catholics, your
honor — are beginning I think, to suspect me ; and if it 'ud be
agreeable to you, sir, to give me a few lines from undher your
own hand, by way of probation, jist to recommend all loyal
subjects to prevent me, as far as they can, from receivin' an?
injury from the rebelly Papists, it would be of great use to nifc.
About a fortnight ago I met one of those terrible men, the
Johnstons of the Fews, and he was very near sendin' me to
jail as a rebel that had fought against King William at the
Boyne and the siege of Limerick, and only I referred him to
Colonel Caterson, he would have done it. I'm not safe, sir,
from either party, I tell you, without some such protection."

" Very well, Patchy ; stay where you are for a few minutes,
and I will return with the document you want. It may serve
you, certainly — at least with the magistrates and the loyal
portion of the community — and you shall have it. In the
meantime, don't conceal any outrage that the Rapparees muy
have committed last night from the people ; that is, if thej
have committed any, which I hope they did not."

In a few minutes he returned with the following document,
which he presented to Patchy, who, after having received it,
immediately left the barracks. It was to the following effect •

"This is to certify, that the bearer, Patchy M'Quade, commonl)
called Patchy Baccach, is a loyal subject, and considered worthy the
protection of the garrison of Armagh, and all other loyal men in
this His Majesty's kingdom of Ireland.

"(Signed) WILIJAM LUCAS,

"Cornet in His Majesty's Third Dragoons."

Patchy, who was no scholar, put the paper carefully in an
Inside pocket, feeling perfectly aware that its discovery upon

THE IRISH RAPPAREK. 01

dim by tbjee of his own creed, who were ignorant of his pecu-
liar position between the Rapparees and the military, might
look upon him as a spy for the Government — a character
which, at that time, was attended with anything but security
Ue was possessed, however, of great cunning and ingenuity,
and the reader will soon see the purpose to which he npplu J
this document, and his object in procuring it.

RIDMOND COUNT o'HANLOM,

CHAPTER IV

PATCHY'S connection with the Rapparees was closer and
more confidential than oar readers have yet been enabled to
guess at. The duties which he discharged toward them were
various and important. In the first place, from the trust which
was placed in him by the military, he always became ac
quainted with the projected movements of every party who
upon any information received as to their places of conceal-
ment, had been appointed to capture them. In consequence
of this knowledge on his part, he was always able, by dis-
patching some trustworthy scout to their place of rendezvous
for the time being, to anticipate and defeat the movements of
the military. Again, he acted as a setter for them, which he
did by traversing the country and ferreting out such circum-
stances as enabled him to mark the 'houses of persons who
were known to be in possession of large sums of money, plate,
and other valuables. In such cases, he contrived to examine
the peculiar structure of the buildings, their strongest and
weakest points of defense, together with the number and de-
scription of arms that were kept for the safety of their pro-
perty. If he could tamper with and corrupt a serva-nt, it was
sc much gained ; and the latter was always certain to receive
a portion of the plunder. Again, he acted as a poacher, in
which capacity he procured considerable quantities of ammuni
tion powder, through the officers of the barracks, to whom he
disposed of the game, declining, in most cases, to receive any-
thing but powder for it. In order to prevent suspicion, he
assured them that he was the worst shot, as a sportsman, that
ever leveled a gun ; that for one hare, or partridge, 9r grouse
be brought down, he missed twenty, and that it was a sin and

THC IRISH RAPPAREE 59

a shame to think of the loads of powder he wasted. Thii
custom of military officers exchanging powder for game sup-
plied by poachers at their barracks, or other stations, has been
practiced within our own memory, and to our own knowledge.
In addition to all this, worthy Patchy frequently hung about
public inns, ale-houses, and other places of entertainment, es-
pecially for travelers and wayfarers, into whose circumstances
and motions he pried with equal success and ability. On these
occasions he was always accompanied by a smart, active lad,
who passed for his son, and to whom was intrusted the task of
communicating to the nearest rendezvous of the Rappareea
the intelligence he had gained.

Such is an accurate description of the character of Patchy
Baccach, who, although he took no part in the actual rob-
beries and other outrages perpetrated by the Rapparees, was
yet one of the most useful and accomplished vagabonds among
them. He always knew their haunts, even for a week or fort-
night to come, unless when some information against them, or
an occasional pursuit by the military, occasioned them to make
a sudden change in the plan of their operations.

At the period of which we write — toward the close of King
Charles the Second's reign — Ireland was covered with a vast
quantity of wood and forest, which has altogether disappeared.
The roads, too, were bad and few in number. In general they
were paved with large, broad, solid stones, somewhat greater
in size than a quartern loaf ; and what was still more extraordi-
nary, the principle of selecting the most perfect level was either
then unknown, or purposely disregarded. It has been asserted,
but with what truth we will not undertake to say, that thej
were run " up one hill, and down another," in order that the
traveler — at a time when the country swarmed with the wild-
est and most ferocious banditti, murderers, wood-kerns, and
other licentious profligates of the period — might hare an op

80 REDMOND COUNT O'HANLON,

portonity of surveying the road before him, and the coontjfj
about him, to ascertain from this point of elevation what the
prospects of danger, or the chances of flight and safety might
be. This argument, however, is of a piece with the skill and
wisdom which constructed such roads. At all events, be the
roads as they might, there is no doubt that the surface of
Ireland at that time was extensively covered with many thick
and dense forests which no longer exist — a circumstance which
accounts for the difficulty of capturing those Tories and Rap-
parees, as well as for the long reign of terror which they in-
flicted on the country. Be this as it may, Patchy directed
bis steps towards the Newry,-as it was then called, and having
arrived at a farmer's house not far from the road, he resolved
to claim the hospitality of the family, and remain there until
dusk. He accordingly entered the house, which was rather a
comfortable one, but found only a middle-aged woman and a
couple of little girls within. The woman was in tears, and
seemed full of sorrow, but the childfen were evidently too
young to understand the cause of her grief. She sat upon a
chair at the far side of the fireplace, having her apron thrown
over her left shoulder, and her face toward the door. In this
position she rocked herself to and fro, as is the custom of
Irishwomen when in a state of affliction, and every now and
then she sobbed and wiped her eyes with the apron, which she
had thus disposed for the purpose.

" Daicent woman," said Patchy, " what's the matther wid
you that you seem in sich affliction ? I hope you have lo.*t
none of your family ? But, even if you have, you know it's
the fate of nature, and we must submit."

" Loss P she replied. " Oh, thin, it's we that had the bit-
ther loss — three of the best friends we ever had."

" Chiernah P exclaimed Patchy, " three is it ? Why, God ht
knows, a body 'ud think that one ought to be enough."

THE IRISH RAPPARKI. f>J

" Aye, and one too much, too," she said ; " bnt 1 tould
Darby that it would be so ; but in ordher to sa?e the beg-
garly penny, see what he has brought on us — ' save a shillin*
and lose a pound ;' for so it was in this case at any rate."

" But how is it ?" asked Patchy. " What part of your fam-
ily did you lose, honest woman V

" Oh, then, three o* the best cows that ever went into
byre. They're gone, and we'll never see hilt or hair of them ;
oud now we'll have nothing for it but the black wather to
Kitchen our bit, let alone the loss of the butther that we had
to make up the rent. Wurra, wurra, what'll become of us ?"

" Faith, good woman," replied Patchy, " that's a bad busi-
ness ; and who do you suspect for them ? Who do you think
took them ?"

" Who ?" she replied ; " why, who but the Rapparees T'

" The Rapparees ! faith and you must have given them
offeuse some way ; bekase it's a rare thing for them to come
down upon the likes o' you so severely as that. It's the rich
Prodestants that they always harry. I tell you then to your
face, that you must have provoked them some way, or they'd
never lay a finger upon either you or yours."

" It wasn't my fault," she replied ; " I argned strongly with
Darby about it ; but when that terrible Captain of theirs waa
laid up a cripple — bavin' lost the use of his limbs — Darby
thought he'd never recover, and that he might skulk out of
bw bargain wid him."

" What bargain was that F1

" Why you see, the Rapparee entered into an agreement
with the people of the country, especially the farmers, that if
tkey'd pay him so much a year he'd undertake to keep them
harmless. If they lost cattle or my other property he bound
himself either to recover it for them, or make up the loss from
Vi* ovn jwkrt. In the meantime, while he was ill and •

69 RKDMOXD COUNT O'HANLOR

helpless cripple, the devil tempted Darby, whose heart is toe
much in the arraghids (money), to break his agreement, and
keep back what he promised to pay yearly for his protec-
tion."

" Phew I" exclaimed Patchy : " then you may whistle foi
your cows. Devil resave the hair o' them ever you'll see
Your nagerly husband, thinkin' the Captain 'ud never recover,
and knowin' besides that he was ill and in want, went and de-
sarted him in the day of his trouble ; but now he is well, and
has twiist the power over the country he ever had, and the
devil a man that ever broke his agreement wid him, when in
the day of his distress, but will sup sorrow for his conduct,
and the devil pity every treacherous and beggarly rascal that
did so. They say it was few that did it, and so much the
betther for them that was honest and faithful to him ; but
woe betide the nagers that treated him as your beggarb
scoundrel of a husband did. Devil a thing I heard this
month o' Sundays that has pleased me more than the loss of
the same cows ; but, in the manetime, I didn't care if I had
something to ait. There's a vacancy in my stomach that*
anything but agreeable or pleasant, and I don't care how soon
it was filled up."

"Well, honest man," replied the woman, "although you
don't seem to feel much compassion for our loss, still, they say,
it's our duty to return good for evil ; so if I have time to toss
you up a rasher before Darby comes in, I will ; but if he
catches you at it, the house won't hould him. Whisper, ao
cushla ! he's a miser and a skrew, and I believe in my sowl
that if his salvation was on the one hand, and a brass farden
on the other, wid his choice of either, he'd secure the braa
farden."

" God help you wid him, poor woman !" exclaimed Patchy;
" it wa? a black day you ever seen the keowt ; but still an

THK IRISH RAPPARH. ••

all, get tu the rasher, and we'll bear the consequence if he
"wines."

The timid but good-natured woman prejiared the rashet
with all possible expedition, and Patchy was jost si ,ting down
to do it ample justice, when in walks the miser himself, with a
small, withered face, and sharp, piercing, little eyes, in which
gleamed an expression of fierceness and distraction, resulting1
from the loss he had sustained, and his evident want of success
in finding any trace or intelligence of his cattle. He first
fastened an angry glance upon Patchy, and then upon his
wife.

" What's this, Peggy ?" said he ; "is it wastin' my hard-
earned substance in this manner you are, upon such a lame
runagate as this? Dhamno ortk! (damnation on you) do
you think I can stand by and look at sich extravagance as
this, especially as I'm fairly starved wid hunger myself. Be-
gone out o' this, you devil's lomenther (a lame person) ; I
must have my dinner." And as he spoke he was about to
seize the wooden trencher — for delph was almost unknown
among the farmers of that remote period — upon which Patchy's
rashers were smoking.

" Aisy, my good neighbor," said Patchy, gripping it firmly ;
"will you make a wager?"

"A wager! What vager? No, I won't."

"Bekase," proceeded Patchy, "I'll hould fifty to one, and
that's long odds, that a morsel of that same rasher will never
pass between your yellow tusks; and I'll double that again,
th it if you don't sit down there and behave yourself like a
quiet, daicent, and hospitable man, as you are not, I'll show
you three jiches of your own tongue, by way of novelty and
amusement to yourself. So keep a calm svgh, my ould cod-
ger, until I finish my male's mait. Do you understand my
thing by that ?"

64 RBDMOND COUNT o'HANLOK,

The old miser sat down, and, placing his withered face upon
his withered palms, sighed and groaned as if his very heart
would break.

"Ay 1" he exclaimed, "robbed, every way robbed — first by
a foolish wife, and again by these thieving Rapparees. Oh,
my three beautiful cows : the likes o' them wasn't in the par-
ish, in the county, in the kingdom, and the landlord coming
down on us for the rent. Oh, chiernah, what'll become of us?
It's it that's the black business."

In the meantime, honest Patchy was bolting the rashers
with a humorous expression of countenance, which was irresis-
tible when contrasted with the vindictive glare which the miser
from time to time turned upon him. Whenever he caught the
old fellow's eye, he gave him a comic wink and a nod which,
in the state of his mind at the time, nearly drove him furi-
ous.

" Well," said he, " what's this your name is ? — Darby, Darby
Soolaghan. Well, Darby, upon my "reputaytion as an honest
man, I have ett many a good rasher in ray day, but the lues
of this never went down the red lane (throat) ; and it's h. ck
and grace your daicent woman of a wife will have for help) ig
the poor Baccach to these two pounds of it, not forgetting > ae
fine farral of arran (bread) that she put along wid it. J nd
you rear and feed the pigs yourself, Darby ?"

"Carry on," replied Darby, looking furiously at the wi'e ;
" carry on, but she'll hear of it."

" Well now," said Patchy, who had nearly dispatched the
rasher, "weren't you a penurious old scoundrel — ay, and a
hard-hearted one to boot — to take advantage of the Captain's
Illness, and refuse to pay your engagement to him ? I now ax
you a question : Is this the first time your cattle were taken
from you ? Answer me the truth."

" Well, no, it is not ; but anyhow I'll never see them again,

THE IRISH RAPPAREE. M

I know, and then we're mined. Bat this is Shane Bearnah'i
doin's ; he's as great a thief of cows and horse* as Cahir ns
Cappul himself, oh chiernah !"

" Dhomno orth, you yellow disciple, will yon give over grui>
tin* aad groania'," exclaimed Patchy ; " answer me directly.
Is this the second time your cows were taken ?"

" It is. Blessed Father, what will become of us ?"

"And when they were taken first, did you get them
back r

" I did, I did ; bekase I then paid my agreement."

" Then the Captain kept his word wid you ?"

*' He did, indeed ; when he heerd of it, they were back with
me in forty-eight hours."

" And you broke your word wid him — refused to stand br
him when he was sick, and not able to act for himself. The
devil's cure to you, then, and that's my compassion for you.
You skamin' ould sinner, do you think I don't know you well 7
Doesn't the wide world know you, and that you're as great •
scrub as your wife's a daiceut woman? Why didn't you
puy what you promised to pay ? Answer me that 1"

" I hadn't it ; I couldn't afford it."

" That's a lie, Darby ; every one knows you're wealthy,
and how you get your wealth, by sellin' out provisions on dear,
summers at three prices to the poor ; but listen — pay me up
your arrears to the Captain before I lave the house, and, al
though I never laid my eyes upon him or one of his men, I'll
UEilertake, through my acquaintance wid a relation of his,
that your cows will be in your own byre widin a few days at
least ; and this I engage not for your sake, but for the sake
of your daicent, kind-hearted wife, and your innocent childer
there. How many have yen of them, Mrs. Soolaghan?" he
inquired from the good woman.

"Troth, nine o' them! but there's none in the houee at

86 RKDMOND COUXT o'HANLOX,

present barrin these two little girleens ; the rest, poor things
is all hunting afther the cows."

"There's no use in that," replied Patchy. "If Shane
Bearnah* has got them, no one but the Captain can have
them brought back to you. However, pay attention to
I have said, and maybe it'll be betther for yon

" That is, give away a sartinty for an unsartinty. I'm not
the fool to do it," replied Darby. "What do you know
about them ? Ay, indeed, give my money to you, a vagabone
tomenther, that may never show his face to us again. Oh,
catch me at it 1"

A long altercation took place between him and his wife,
who, aided by Patchy, at length succeeded in prevailing upon
him to intrust the arrears of his black mail to the latter, who
having secured it in his pocket, said with a grin :

* Shane Bearnah was one of the chief men in the great Bapparee'i
gang. His department was the stealing of cows and horses, and every
description of the more important domestic animals ; but, indeed, his
thefts were principally confined to the former, as being the most lu-
trative, and the more easily conveyed from one part of the kingdom
to another. He was second only, as a thief of this description, to the
celebrated Cahir na Cappul, or Charles Dempsey, who was born near
Ballybrittas. in the Queen's County. Shane Bearnah has no distinct
biography, as Cahir na Cappul (Charles of the Horses) has ; but his local
celebrity, and the traditions of his exploits in various parts of the North
of Ireland, are perhaps equal to those of his great rival and contem-
porary. Caves, and isolated spots of green pasture, in the recesses of
some of the Northern mountains, are still pointed out as Shane Bear'
nah't Stables, or, in other words, as the localities in which he used to
conceal his stolen horses. One of them is to be found in that long
range called the Sliebeen Mountains, which separate a portion of Ty-
rone and Monaghan from each other. It is said of Shane Bearnah,
that he wan born without teeth ; but that he could, notwithstanding
the want of them, bite a piece out of a thin plate of Iron with »
little difficulty aa if it had been gingerbread.

TBK IRISH RAJ-PARKS. 61

"Now, you devil's limb of a miser, how do you know whethei
»ou'll ever lay eye on either cows or money again ?"

" I'll hunt you through the kingdom, or I will," replied
Darby, perfectly appalled at the threat. " I'll send the sogen
afther you, and swear that your'e a Rapparee in disguise."

" Well, you ould sinner," said Patchy, " for the sake of your
wife and family, I'll do what I can for you ; but it's now be-
tween the two lights,* and I must be goin'. In the manetime,
thank yon, Mrs. Soolaghan, for your kindness to the poor
Baccach. I hope you'll have no occasion to be sorry for it.
Good-bye, ma'am, and good-bye to you, you ungrateful ould
ichamer ; maybe I'll do betther for you than you desarve."

" For God's sake do," replied the wife ; " for if you have
betrayed us or taken us in, little you know the life I'll lead
*n account of it."

Patchy then took his leave of them, and departed on hia
more important mission.

The night set in very dark, and Patchy resumed his journey
along the road, which at that time led by a rather circuitous
road to the town of Newry. Having gone forward a few
miles, he struck off the highway by one of those old unfre-
quented paths, which the slight improvements in roadmaking
that were even then beginning to appear, had caused to be
abandoned. There were few houses, as he proceeded, around
or near him ; the country was very much covered with wood,
and had altogether, even in daylight, a solitary and desolate
"tspect. The wild and rugged outline of the old road, now
choked up, as it was, by weeds, and almost covered with rank
glass and brambles, was, however, quite familiar to him, and
he advanced into the lonely region before h m with more ease
and speed than might have been expected. We shoald have
•ud that a portion of the ground through which this ran, had
* A common expression for twilight

68 REDMOND COUNT o'HANLON,

been recently cultivated, so that, in point of fact, it was im-
possible for a stranger to imagine for a moment that a road,
no matter how rude, had ever traversed that direction at all.
It was no easy task, then, to know from what part of the new
highway the turn across the fields toward it should be made,
especially at night. To a stranger the matter was an im
possibility, for hi consequence of the district through which it
ran having been scarcely ever inhabited, the very recollection
of it had been nearly forgotten. In the meantime Patchy strug-
gled on, not certainly without a good deal of difficulty, until
he had advanced about four miles, when the wood became
denser, and the path more indistinct and difficult. He now
knew that he had not much farther to go, and after losing some
time hi searching about, he came upon a rope, by which, through
many intricate and apparently inaccessible passages, he was
enabled to reach a thick and impervious mass of underwood,
BO closely woven together, that it took. some minutes to find
the private passage. Having found it, he went on, slightly
stooping until he reached a large clump of immense fern,
through which he made his way by putting it aside with his
hands. Immediately behind this was an opening to a cavern,
into which he at once entered. He now knew his position,
and proceeded accordingly. Having advanced about ten
yards or so, he turned by a sharp angle that led to the right,
and having followed this about six or eight yards more, he
found it diverged to the left, when he saw a dim light in the
distance. Thus it happened that from the angular and indirect
nature of the entrance, it was impossible that any light, how-
ever brilliant, in the centre of the cavern, could be seen until
the individual approaching it had come into a right line with
it. This, however Patchy had not yet done. The first light
visible was not the real one. On the contrary, it was ingeniously
pla 5ed there for the purpose of throwing the shadow of thi

THE IR'SU RAPI iREE. 69

person advancing across the platform adjoining the innermost
recess of the cavern, which was the occasional rendezvous of tho
Rapparees, when planning their operations in that part of tho
country. So strictly vigilant were these men at their meet-
ings here, and indeed everywhere else, that a sentinel was al-
ways placed to watch the platform in question, and the mo-
ment a shadow was seen, a challenge was given to the intru-
der. Patchy had not made more than three or four steps
when his person became distinctly visible, and in an instant a
voice called out, in stern significant tones, that could not be
misunderstood, " Who comes here ?" and a man immediately
started forward with a loaded blunderbuss in his hand.

" A friend to the friends of my country," replied Patchy
" Be aisy, will you ? It's Patchy that's in it."

" It's the voice of Patchy, but you must advance and show
yourself ; we must read your face, Patchy, for fear there might
be no more of Patchy than his tongue about you."

" Ah, Quee Harry, is it you ?" said Patchy, advancing and
shaking hands with him ; then entering the inner cavern, he
proceeded : " That's your plan, comrades ; keep a sharp look-
out, and reason good you should ! You have the wealth of
the country, the government, and the sogers, on watch for you ;
so you see, as I said, you must have both your eyes and your
ears about you. Well, and are you all safe ? None of you
hanged yet, I hope P

" Not one, Patchy, nor no danger of it ; we'll turn a corner
OQ them at the long run."

" So you will, plaise God ; sure it's all for the good of the
country that you're actin' as you're doin'. May the Lord re-
ward you, and keep you from that worst and roughest of
all blackguard weeds, by name — hemp. But where's the Cap
tain ? I don't see him here. All's right wid him, I hope 1"

" All's right, Patchy ; he is out to-night to meet a geutlemno

70 REDMOND COUNT o'lUXLOX,

on the Dew road tha intends to lend him two or three hundred
pounds. He — the gentleman I mane — is to have three sogera
wid him for protection ; but that doesn't signify much, jekase
the Captain has Shane Bearnah, James Butler, and strong
John M'Pherson,* all well armed, along wid him, and L there
was three sogers more against them, it 'ud make little differ.
Here, Patchy, won't you have a gauliogue of the cratur to
warm your heart after your dark and ugly journey ?"

" I think I ought," said Patchy, " and, in truth, a dark and
ugly journey it is ; so here's wishin' us all long life and good
health, and that none of us may ever swallow lead or see his
own funeral. Chiernah ! but that's the stuff, and it's bought
for three tunes less than nothin'."

The bottle was then sent about, but with great moderation ;
for drunkenness, when thrice repeated, was followed by ex-
pulsion from the gang. It is singular to reflect upon the
strange perversion and involution of moral feeling by which
this desperate and terrible confraternity was regulated. The
three great principles of their lawless existence were such as
would reflect honor upon the most refined associations, and
the most intellectual institutions of modern civilization. These
were : first, sobriety ; secondly, a resolution to avoid the
shedding of human blood ; and, thirdly, a solemn promise never
to insult or offer outrage to woman, but in every instance to
protect her. Yet, upon the basis of principles involving so
much that was noble and lofty in morality, was erected such
a superstructure of theft and robbery as Irelan 1 never sa w,
either before the period we write of or since.

The present meeting was an annual one ; and such was the

alarmed state of the country, and so frequent were the attempts

made to disperse, or rather secure this celebrated and terrible

gang, but, above all, their leader, that they felt it would not

• The** are real characters, ai;d were port of his gang.

THE IRISH RAPPARKK. 1

se safe to meet except on great or rare occasions, even in tin*
remote and unknown cavern. At that, period it was the last
wild recess left them Thich had not been, one after another,
discovered, and their anxiety to preserve the secret of its ex-
istence was great in proportion to the danger which its dis-
covery would have brought upon them. There were present
on this occasion none but the leaders of the wild and savage
banditti that were then dispersed over all parts of the king-
dom for to none else would the secret of their present place of
meeting be communicated. Neither was the observance of the
three principles we have alluded to made anything like a
matter of conscience by a great number of the subordinate
robbers, who frequently violated every one of them, or, in other
words, committed murder, fell into drunken excesses, and
threatened females with outrage and cruelty. The last, bow-
ever, was certainly the rarest of their crimes.

Within the range of the wide district over which the sway
of the great Rapparee of whom we write prevailed there was
scarcely a single exception ever known — we believe only one —
against the faithful adherence to the very letter as well as the
ppirit of these three fundamental regulations that he laid down
for their conduct. This was owing, as we have every reason
to believe, to the fact that their leader was a gentleman of
a high and ancient Irish family, one of whose ancestors wai
knighted by Queen Elizabeth for important services rendered
to her cause. And we may add here, that another of the de-
scendants of his family, when George the Fourth visited tliia
country, claimed his right of hereditary standard-bearer for
Ireland, north of the Boyne, and had his claim admitted by
my late friends Ulster King-at-Arms, Sir William Betham.

The appearance of the cavern in which they were assembled
was very simple, and had nothing extraordinary about it ex-
cept iU large and ample sp^cc. Not ft stalactite depended from

ft REDMOND COUNT o'HA.VLOX,

the roof; but as a compensation for its want of natural
arnaments, it was as dry as powder. If nature left it naked,
however, art had supplied the deficiency. It was, in fact>
not only a place of rendezvous, but a storehouse of arms, am-
munition, and such a variety of diferent costumes as would
puzzle and confound a modern pawnbroker. Every garb of
the day was there, hanging from pegs driven into the sides of
the cavern — from that of the tattered beggar to the rich and
fashionable apparel of the wealthy gentleman, and from that
of the common soldier to the exact uniform of his superior
officers. The last were principally the property of their cel-
ebrated leader, who assumed them all on several occasions
during the extraordinary and almost incredible variety of his
exploits. Here also was their magazine, which consisted of a
great variety of firearms, all carefully oiled and wrapped in flap-
nel, so as to prevent them from becoming useless or dangerous
by damp or rust, together with a considerable portion of gunpow-
der, preserved with equal care. Such large sums of money, too,
and all the valuable plate which they had plundered from the
gentry of the country, were deposited here for security, until
the plate at least could be melted down and safely disposed
of ; and for this purpose they had crucibles, and all the other
necessary apparatus. The particular place, however, in which
the treasure was deposited, being considered by their chief a
temptation probably too strong for the honesty of some of
them, was a secret known only to himself and Shane Bearuah,
his confidant, and the next in command.

Having thus described the place of their annual and othei
extraordinary meetings, we will now recite the names and pe-
culiar pursuits of those who were there asseml led, for the pur-
pose, as we have said, of debating upon the com -e of their
proceedings during the next campaign ; but it is to be re-
membered that their chief, together with three others : to wit,

TH« IRISH RAPPARKE. T5

Shane Bearnah, James Butler, and strong John M'P icrson,
were then absent, being engaged in the execution of a robbery.
Neither is it to be forgotten that the names we are about to
mention, as well as those we have given, are authentic and his-
torical. The first in importance and in fame, at that period
at least, although seldom mentioned now, was Captain Power,
so called, not from any military title he had ever received, but in
consequence of his position as the head and commander of the
Munster robbers, or Rapparees. He was born at Kilvallen,
in the county of Cork, and was the son of a gentleman who
possessed a good freehold estate at that place. He had had
a quarrel with his brother, after which he got into a lawsuit,
which he lost. A writ of contempt of court having been is-
sued against him, he spurned and defied its authority, and, as
K matter of course, was outlawed. After some time he re-
turued home, — and rather than be a burthen to his relations,
took to the highway, and became the most celebrated robber
that Munster ever produced. Like the great Rapparee who
is the hero of this narrative, he never shed blood, and was re-
markable for his kindness and charity to the poor. After he
had been on the highway for some time, he was offered a par-
don through the intercession of his friends ; but feeling an
irresistible impulse for a life of adventure, he refused the
mercy that was extended to him, and preferred the wild and
excitable life of a bandit. He had come down from Munster
to visit and see the great northern robber, from motives of
curiosity and admiration. Their actual meeting, whilst each
was ignorant of the person of the other, is so full of interest
and romance, that we may probably give it on some future oc-
casion. He remained with his northern brother for about
twelve months, and is now present more as his friend than oa
one of his gang. First, then, on this occasion, we will men-
tion him

f4 REDMOND CuCNT 0'HA<LO»,

Captain Power, a Gentleman Rapparee.

Paul Liddy, a Gentleman Rapparee.

William Peters, alias Delany.

Charles Dempsey, alias Cahir na Cappul, the renowned Hone-stealor,

introduced into his novel of "the Boyne Water,'' by John Banim.
Manus M'O'Neil the Gold-finder, introduced into "Suil Duv," bj

Gerald Griffin,

Strong John McPherson, j

Bhane Bearnah, of whom above, ; at present out with their leader.
James Butler, )

John Mulhone,
James Carrick,

Quee Harry Donoghan, the Napper (stealer, prigger) of Ulster,
Patrick M'Tigh (M'Teague),
John Reilly,
Phil Galloge,
Pat Mill,

Arthur O'Neil, and
The famous 0' Kelly, the Kilkenny man.

Now, most of these men have personal records left of thetf
lives and deaths. They held high but subordinate appoint-
ments under their celebrated chief, and such of them as have
not distinct biographies, are incideutly mentioned by their clever
and graphic biographer, Cosgrave, who was himself their con-
temporary, and if we are to be guided by a hint in what pur-
ports to be a letter to him — evidently written, however, by
himself — there is reason to suppose that he wis one of
wrn fraternity

nil IRISH RAPPARIE. 16

CHAPTER V.

WHKX Patchy noticed Captain Power, who was then, ai
always, in the garb of a gentleman, he respectfully touched hia
hat to him, observing as he did it :

"I think I see a gentleman here who's a stranger to me —
I'm Patchy Baccach, sir, the setter — and now that you know
/oae, I hope you won't keep the advantage of me."

41 Not at all, Patchy, I have heard of you from the chief ;
* a are a very valuable man, Patchy — I'm Captain Power."

"God bless my sowl, sir," replied Patchy, taking off his
*at — "is it possible that the great Captain Power is one
>f us?"

" Yes, but only for a time, Patchy. I thought myself at the
bead of my profession, Patchy, and I came down here to have
«\n interview with the Great Northern ; but I soon found that
clever and able as I considered myself, I had much to learn
from him."

"Well, indeed, I'm not surprised at that, sir," replied
Patchy, "for if ever there was a maricle at the busi.iess, he
is one. He was never done but once, and that was by the
Dundalk apprentice."

" How was that ?" asked Power.

41 Why, sir, there was a merchant in Dundalk who had a
draft on another in Newry, for the sum of two hundred
pounds. Such was his terror, howandever, of the Captain,
that he was afeard either to go for the money himself, or to
•end for it by another. In this state of mind he was one day
consultin' wid his wife as to what was best to be done in the
matter, when his apprentice, a lad about sixteen, happened to
•cerhear them. He offered to go for the cash, and laid, ht

1* RKDMOVD COUNT o'HANLON,

would let them cut the ears off his head if he did not bring H
hofcie «fe to them Now, both the merchant and his wife
knew he was a smart chap, and always had his wits about
him ; so, after another consultation, they agreed to let him
make tLe trial, and accordingly gave him the draft. Well,
sir, the first thing he did was to saddle an ould entire horse,
BO lame wid the spavy that he could hardly go a mile an
hour, an , what was worse than all, the brute, from sheer vi-
ciousness and a hell-fire temper, would suffer neither horse nor
man to cojie near him on the road — the' prentice himself bein'
the only person he would allow to handle or mount him. Well
and good , the lad got two pounds changed into halfpence,
which he tied in a bag — one half in each end, wid a string
about the middle, and havin' mounted his horse, he went his
way towai'ls Newry ; when, as it happened, on comin' to a
lonely part of the road, who comes up wid him but the Cap-
tain. The chap seemed very innocent, and soon tould him the
whole story of the money ; and how he was to bring it back
the next day. The Captain said it was wrong of him to men-
tion the circumstance to any one, for 'fraid be might be rob-
bed ; and on partin' gave him a guinea to drink his healtU
and hire another horse if he wished.

" ' When do you expect to be back, my lad,' he asked.

" ' About this time to-morrow, sir,' replied the boy ; ' and
tH'dad I wish I had you along wid me all the way, for then I'd
have no fear of bein' robbed of it.'

" All right so far ; the lad got to Newry, where he remain-
ed all night ; and the next morniu', havin' got the cash in
bank-notes, he sowed them up in the linin' of his waistcoat,
and set out on his return home. Well, to make a long story
short, he had just come to the same lonesome part of the road
where he met the gentleman the Jay before, and, shure enough.
(here he met nun again.

THE IRISH RAPPARK 71

" Well, my good boy/ said the Captain, ' did yoa get tin
money ?'

" ' Bedad I did so, sir,' replied the shaver, ' every peony.'

" ' And hew did you get it ?' asked the gentleman.

" ' Faix, in hard goold,' said the other ; ' and here I have it,
* hundred in each end o* this bag ; but I wonldn't tell that,
sir, to any one but yourself, for 'fraid I might be aised of it— •
but I know by your appearance you're a gentleman, and that

I needn't be afeared of you.'

" ' Yes, but hand me the money,' said the Captain, ' till 1
see if it's all right.'

" ' I know it's right,' said the boy, ' for I counted it myself ;
and, besides, my masther made me take an oath, before I left
home, that afther I got it I wonldn't let it into any one's handi
but my own.'

" ' Hand it out immediately, said the Captain, ' I must have

a;

" But sir,' said the chap, ' my masther will blame me for it,
and say that I made away wid it myself.'

" ' Deliver the money immediately, you young scoundrel,' saye
the Captain, pulling out a pistol, ' or I'll blow your brains out.'

" ' I couldn't think of doin' sich a thing,' says the youth ;

I 1 promised to let him cut my ears off if I didn't bring it safe
to him, and I will, too.'

" The Captain immediately rode up to him, in ordher to secure
it, but, lo and behould you, the devilish ould cappul (horse) the
lad was on turns round and threw out at him and his horse,
which made him keep his distance ; and, in the meantime, the
cunnin' young vagabone moved him over to the roadside, and
threw the bag that contained the coppers across the hedge, and
a good distance into a quagmire that happened to be in the
place.

* ' If yoi want to get it, sir,' says he, 'you must go for it,

18 REDMOND COUNT 0 HANLOX,

bekasc I tuck an oath to my masthcr, that I wouldi t give it
into the hands of any one ; aiid now he can't say I perjured
myself.'

" The Captain immediately lit down off his horse, hooked
him to the branch of a tree, and with a good deal of time and
strugglin' got through the hedge, and after that had quite aa
much difficulty hi wadin' through the quagmire. This ripe
youth, in the manetime, unhooked the Captain's fine horse —
mounted him, set off at full speed, laving him two pounds'
worth of coppers in a bag, and a spavined ould garran, as full
of venom and mischief as an egg is of mate, instead of the two
hundred pounds he expected ; and what was betther still, rob-
bin' the robber of his fine horse before his own face into the
bargain. There, now, is the only case in which the Captain
was ever done ; but, be my sowl, he was done there, and in
ityle, too."

"But did he ever recover his "horse?" asked Captain
Power.

" The horse," replied Patchy, " was put to livery in Dun-
dalk, and advertised ; bnt I need not tell you that the Cap-
tain, for a reason that he had, never claimed him — but he
wrote a letter widout a name to his masther, statin' that his
owner made a present of him to the young rogue, in reward
for his cleverness and ingenuity. He never can tell that story
himself widout laughin' heartily, and wishin' that he had the
trainin' of the lad."

It is not to be supposed that these worthy Rapparees sat
here without the necessary requisites to keep them comforta-
ble. There was a large fire, around which they disposed th era-
selves on such temporary seats as thej could procure, together
with an ample stock of provisions and other refreshments, such
as wine, whisky, brandy, and malt liquor, in abundance. Of
those they partook — some sparingly, some more freely — but

TIME IU3R RAPPAREK. Tf

tot one to excess or intoxication ; for on this necessary point
their Captain kept them in an excellent state of discipline

" Come, my bowld comrades," said Patchy, " let us havt
a glass of comfort, and amnse ourselves as well as we can un
til the Captain and the others come back. Captain Power,
here's long life, good health, and a happy death-bed to you ;
and, as I said before, may none of as ever see his own funeral I
Amin, a chiernah .'"

This was drank, and Patchy proceeded : " Come, Billy Pe-
ters, or Delany, or whatsomever yon call yourself, let as hear
* little of your skill and experience. You're nearly as great
& horse-fltealer as Cahir na Cappul there."

" Me !" replied Cahir, in his broken English — a man, by the
ray, in every lineament of whose face nature had set the
*tamp of thief and robber — " me, Patchy — fwhy now, Patchy,
don't she knows dat I never staled a baste in my life. Sura
I haven't gotten no conscience about stalin' 'em — I never
staled any, sore."

"Well, if you don't stale them yourself, Cahir, you know
who does, so that it all comes to the same thing. But you,
Billy Peters, in the manetime, tell us something to amuse us
and pass the time."

" Troth, the story I'm goin' to tell," replied Peters, " is at
much Cahir na CappvTa there as mine ; but sich as it is yon
shull have it."

" Ay, do," said Cahir, " tell her up for de gentlemin."

"Well, then," proceeded Peters, "some time after I got th6
bite from the girl that was whipped through the town of Ma-
ryborough, for several acts of thievin* she committed, and whc

Dalrned herself upon my father and me as Captain P 'i

daughter, I became acquainted wid worthy Cahir na Cappu*
here ; and, becoorse, I wasn't long a croneen c f his until I
tack a strong fancy for horse-fltcalinV

80 REDMOND COUNT o'HANLON,

*' You wor a big tief afore you comes to me," observed
Cahir.

" Well, if I was, Cahir, you soon improved me. Troth, I
was nothing till I knew you ; but no matter. Soon afther I
got rid of my doxy, it so happened that I tuck a strong fancj
to a fine sorrel horse, wid a bald face and a white foot, that
belonged to a gentleman hi the county of Carlow. I got into
the stable one night, by means of a thing that I'm sure," he
added, with a grin, " none of you ever heard of — a false key.
It isn't, nor ever was, my custom to do a thing unfairly ; so,
says I, whispering to the horse, ' have you any objection to
come wid me and see the world ?' Throth, I thought it but
fair and reasonable to put the question to him ; but, at any
rate, devil a word he said against it. 'That's all right,' saya
I, ' silence gives consent ;' and off we went on the best of terms
wid each other. Well, I sowld the horse at a good price, but
the toir (pursuit) was soon up afther.me, and in a short time I
was lodged in Carlow jail, wid every proof strong against me ;
BO that I saw clearly there was little else for me but to dance
the pleasant jig called the ' Hangman's Hornpipe.' Not that
I was much troubled about that either, in regard that I wa»
once hanged before,* and escaped the noose twiist afterward,
and all by raison of a charm I got against hangin' from the
same woman that gave Cahir na Cappul there the enchant-
ment that enables him, wid a weeshy whisper in his ear, to
tame the wildest and wickedest horse that ever went upon four
feet. Be this as it may, I was very much troubled about the
matter, and hardly knew how to act. At last I bethought
me of Cahir here, and sent to let him know how I was fixed.
I desired him to look at the horse, and to find me out a mare
as like him as possible, and ,o try and exchange the one for
the other- —otherwise I had little chance, as the evidence wai
• A fact.

THE IRISH KAFTAKKK. 8

•o clear against me. Ah, troth, Cahir, my boy, it's y >u tha.
wasn't long gettin' me the mare I wanted, nor in giving in*
itructions how to have the thing done. The trial was now
within a day or two of comin' on, and the stolen horse was
pnt under the care of the jailor, as is usual, till it should
be over. When Gator's messenger arrived, he pnt ap at a
place near the riverside, where the hostler used to water
the horse. He had got acquainted wid him, and on this occa-
fion asked him in to have a drink, to which he willingly con*
gented, lavin' the horse at the door. In the manetime, the
animals were exchanged by a comrogue of the messenger's ;
and when the hostler came out, after gettin' his mornin', he
mounted the mare and rode her to the stable instead of the
borse. Well, very soon afterward, in about an hour or so, my
trial came on, and, to tell the truth, every thing went against
me — nothing could be clearer than the evidence; and the
jndge was goin' to charge the jury, when I thought it was
time to speak :

" 'My lord,' says I, 'every man's life is precious to him.
You all think me guilty ; but I deny it, and will prove my
innocence, if you'll grant me one request.'

"'What is it ?' asked the judge.

" ' It is, my lord,' says I, ' that the horse shall be produced
in coort. When he is, if I don't show the whole world that
I'm wrongfully charged with the crime I'm in for, why, then,
hang me up as an example to all the horse-stealers in the king-
dom ; and I'll go to my death willingly.'

" ' But how could the production of the horse save you 7
said the judge.

."'My lord,' says I, 'I cannot tell you that till the horet
oojies into coort.'

" ' My lord,' says my lawyer, ' as the poor man thinks his lift
in' on it, surely his request ought to be complied with *
ft

•i REDMOND COUNT o'HAXLOH,

" ' Very well,' said the judge, smilin', 'let the norse be pro
Juced in coort.'

" 'The horse is my witness, my lord,' says I, 'and will bring
Be out clear.'

'"It is the first tune I ever heard of such a witness,' said
the judge, langhin' outright, as did the whole coort ; ' but ai
you think hell serve you, it is but right that you should hare
his testimony."

"'We shall cross-examine him severely,' said the op-
posite counsel, 'and it'll go hard or we'll make him break
down.'

" By this tune the whole coort was in roars of laughter, and
they were all on coals to see what would happen. Well, in a
short time the horse was brought into coort, and I turned
round to my prosecutor.

" 'Now, sir,' says I, 'do you swear positively and truly that
that is the animal you lost ?'

" ' I do,' says he ; 'by the virtue of my oath, that is my
"lorse — the very one you stole from me.'

" ' By the virtue of your oath, sir, whether is that animal a
horse or a mare ?'

" ' By the oath I've taken,' he says again, ' it's a horse, and
not a mare. It was a horse I lost, and that's the animal.'

" The short and the long of it was, that the animal proved
co be a mare, and not a horse at all. Such a scene was never
witnessed. Every one in the coort was in convulsions, with
the exception of my prosecutor, who had a face on him as long
as to-day and to-morrow. As for the jury, you'd tie them wid
three straws.

•' ' Gentlemen.' said the judge, addressin' them as well at
he could speak tor laughin', ' you must acquit the prisoner.'

" ' We do, my lord,' said the foreman, ' we find a verdict of
•cqnittal.'

THE IRISH RATTAHM. Si

* ' Let him be immediately discharged, then ' said the judge.
And so I was, comrades, and — here I an "

" Give Peter a glass for that," said Pat:hy " If that wasn't
doin' them, I dunna what was."

" But, sure, as I tould you all, it was Cahir net Cappul
here that desarres the credit of that ; for what do yon think
he did? Why, he painted the mare so like the horse, that
lirin' eyes couldn't see the difference. Ah, Cahir 1 Cahir 1
what are we all hi the horse-stalin' line, when compared wid
xm I'm middliu' myself, and Shane Bearnah's betther still,
bat neither of as could hoald a candle to you at the business."

" I never staled a horse in my life," repeated Cahir ; " sure
<very one knows dat I never stales no horses."

"Do you take apprentices still, Cabir?" asked Manna
M'O'Neil, the gold-finder.

" Yes, I does," replied Cahir, " when I gets a good fwhee
(fee) wid 'em. Many o' de Munster farmers does shend der
•hilders to me to larn the saicrits."

" And what fee do you charge, Cahir ?"

"Why, frwhora whifty to a hundars pounds, and fwhor dat
I finishes dem."

" Yes, Cahir," observed Power, drily, " I dare say you do."

This may seem strange, if not incredible, to our readers ; but
such was the fact. Some of the Munster farmers — men of
wealth and substance, too — felt no scruple whatsoever in
binding their sons to this celebrated cattle-stealer, in order
i lint they might afterward pursue such theft as a trade. Cahir,
however, by his multiplied process of ingenuity, almost ele-
vated it to the rank of a science, although he himself did not
knew a letter in the alphabet.

That the singular fact of snch apprenticeships argued •
rery loose notion of the rights of pro] erty, can scarcely be de-
wed ; but, on the other hand, it is not altogether withoof'

REDMOND COUNT

•omethiug in the shape of apology. The consciousness of
wrong it is that constitutes guilt ; but here there was no snch
feeling. , The possession of property bj Protestants was looked
npon as an act of injustice by the Catholic population and the
country at large. This property, they said, was oppressively
wrested from their forefathers and themselves by arbitrary
laws, and they consequently looked upon themselves af wholly
possessing the justest and the strongest title to it. Under
those circumstances, and with such impressions, we are not to
feel surprised that the aboriginal Irish should consider them-
selves morally justified in despoiling the possessors of it as far
as they possibly could with safety to themselves. This feeling
was peculiarly strong in Munster, where the Rapparees and
Tories actually succeeded, by their outrages upon both person
and property, in frustrating every attempt to settle that country
with a Protestant population.

" Come, Manus, you innocent babe, of a goold-finder," said
Patchy, " have you none of your exploits to tell us ? Take
a glass, man, and let the great Captain Power hear what you
can do."

" Och !" replied Manus, with a shrug that indicated great
simplicity, and in broken English, too, " sure it's a simple boy
I am, and knows nuthin' about roguery — sarra ting, now. I
was borned honest, so I was, and de midwife said, when sht
seed my innocent face — ' af I has a sowl in my bodies,' sayt
she, ' dat child will come to great wealt' yet, and 'ill have much
arraghids (money), and will make many peoples big wit mo-
nies and skileens o' goold and riches — dat innocent child *ill —
ay, indeed, now."

" Well, but, Manus," said Patchy, " we all know that you're
an innocent boy, and ha? lashins of goold and jewels at youi
disposal, and that it's tear of the lord o' the inarior thatmakei
ftra sell them in private, poor gorxon. But in the manetime,.

TBC IRISH RAPPAREK. 85

what if you'd give us the story of the ingot that you sould to
the banker in Dublin."

Manus gave another shrug, indicative of his usual simplicity,
*nd put an oafish grin upou his naturally blank features, that
gave him literally the expression of a born idot.

11 Is it dat I'm to toul yez, den ?" said he.

" Ay," replied Patchy, "just that same. Chiernah !" he ad-
ded, " look at him I Wouldn't any one think that he didn't
koow Saturday from Sunday ? Go on, Manus ; Captain
Power wants to hear it."

'Well den — yez must know that I had an ingit of raal
go<>ld, that was in woit twelve ounces to de ouucels, nayder
more nor lesh ; and be in' in Dublin upon an experition to rise
monies upon her, bekase de landlord was goin' to put my cat-
tle* in de pound — do you see — to sell' em aff for de riut — bad
luck to awl rints and landlords, any way. I wint in de dresh of
a imddlin' fanner, wid my ingit rowled up in paper, and I found
him shettin' in a nice room by himshefs.

" ' Well, my man,' says he, ' whats do ye want wid me ?'

" ' Fwhy, your honor,' shiz I, " it's well known dat you under-
coinstand all de outs and ins about monies, an' I come to you
out o' no preference or respect at awl, but bekase it's uiisre-
ported be awl parties dat you're a shentleman.' So he laughed.

" ' But what is your bizness wid me, my good man V shii
he.

" ' Why, de landlord, your honor, and bad luck to him 1'

" ' But what have I to do wid your landlord ?' he shed.

" ' Ah 1 your worship,' shiz I, ' he's gooin' to drive me, af ]
don't have de rint for him be next Mouda.'

" ' And how can I help yon, my poor man ?' shiz. he. ' What
do you want wid me ?'

" ' I wants to rise some monies on dis, shir,' shiz I, takin' d«
o* de paper she was rowled in. ' She's raal goold,

80 REDMOND COUNT o'HANLON,

ihir, and has been in oar fwhamily for three or fwhor genera*
tions — bat I'm not goin' to sell her, shir — but to rise rnoniei
on her, bekase, shir, dere's an owld prowhecy in de family, dat
if we part wid her for gud, we'll never hare luck or grace,
ayder here or thereafter.'

" ' You wish to lave her in pledge, den ?' shut he.

41 ' Dat's de very ting, yer honor/ shiz I.

44 ' Well, den,' shiz he, ' you must wait awhile, till I shend it
to my gooldsmit, to try whether she's raal goold or not.'

" So he shent it off wid a messenger, and in a short time he
come back wit a uote fwhrom de gooldsmit, sayin' dat she was
rani goold.

44 ' Now, how much do want to rise an her T shiz he.

" Well, to tell de troot, I axed more nor I knew he would
give. He wanted to buy her, but as I shed befwhore, I twold
him I only wanted to rise monies enough on her to pay d<
rint, and save my brave catties, so he made me an offer, but ]
refused to take it, and takin' up my ingit, I rowled her agait
in de papers, and left him. After I had gone frhom him,
mavrone, oh, but I begnn to repint, so takin' out de brass
ingit, dat was gilt, and as like de oder as two pays, I went
back.

44 ' Plaise your honor,' shit I, 4 1 have shanged my mind-
Ill take your offer ; but take care of her fwhor me, bekas*
if I lost her, de family 'ud never prospher, nayder here nor
thereafter.'

'• Wid dat he paid me de monies, and put de ingit into a
press widout wanst lookin' at her, and I come away wid mj
raal ingit snug in my pocket. It was on dat day de flags of
Dublin got so hot for my poor feet dat I couldn't remain any
time in dat beautiful city, for fears o' burnin' my soles ; so I
left it, and wint to Connaught, fere de devil a much I got;
bekase it's a j»oor hole, and de peoples didn't understand Eu-

THE IRISH RAPPAREE •)

prfifih, aldough I wished to pass fwbor a gentleman of book*
larnin', dat understood nuttin' brt de English langridge, and
several tings o' dat kind."

Many other anecdotes, detailing either the ingenuiij or dar
ing character of their exploits, were narrated, and when Maims
had concluded his, Patchy, who acted also as their cup-bearer
and butler, resolved to reward him with a glass.

" Come, my poor innocent lad," said he, handing him a bum-
per, " wet your whistle wid this — it's no counterfeit, any way,
but the raal stuff — and here, you sentry, that's on the look-out
there, watchin' for shadows, come and taste something that
has substance in it. I don't think the sogers will run away
wid us to-night, at any rate."

Manus took off his glass ; and the man who discharged the
duty of sentinel joined them, as he had been invited, but had
scarcely finished his, when a man in the uniform of a British
officer sprang forward, exclaiming :

" Villains ! surrender this moment, and offer no resistance.
Ton are my prisoners. I arrest you in the king's name I"

Every man present sprang to his feet, and secured his arms,
and in a moment there were at least a dozen loaded piece*
presented at him.

" Stop— hold, my friends 1" exclaimed Power, seconding his
words with a commanding motion of his hand ; " keep quiet,
and be cool ; injure him not at present, until we shall see the
upshot of this. Yon know it is against our principles to shed
blood unnecessarily, and only in self-defense. Let me speak to
the gentleman — you know he is only discharging his duty ;
but we, also, hare a duty to discharge, and we shall discharge
it Now, sir," he added, addressing the -fficer, "what if
jrour business here r*

"To arrest and secure every man of you," replied the offi-
•cr : resistance on your part is worse than useless. I have

88 BKDMOXD COUNT o'lUKLOM,

your retreat here surrounded >y a company of soldiers ; BO
that your escape is impossible."

" So is yours," replied Power. " You arc an Englishman,
I perceive, by your accent ?"

" I am — I do not deny it."

" Well, then, you are our prisoner and our hostage ; sur-
ronnd and disarm him."

The officer, who, by the way, had a pistol in each hand,
stepped back.

" Forbear," said he ; "I shall take at least two lives before
1 surrender, and mine, I know, you may take also. I know,
too, that you may overpower me, and slay me where I stand,
but that will not secure yourselves ; for among my men it
will only add a spirit of vengeance to a sense of duty. Now,
mark me, I have a proposal to make ; it argues neither cour-
age nor gallantry on your part to surround and overpower by
cumbers a single man, as I am. Hearken now, if you be
brave men, as they say you are. If there be any one indi-
vidual among yon who thinks himself stout enough to take me
prisoner, and succeeds in doing so, I will submit without taking
life ; but if there be not, and that you attempt to overpower
me by numbers, as I said, then most assuredly will I take two
lives from among you, perhaps more, for my sword is slurp
and trusty, and has never failed me yet."

"Be it so," replied Power ; " it is a fair and manly chal
lenge, and I myself accept it with pleasure."

41 Pardon me, my friend 1" exclaimed Paul Liddy, another
gentleman Rapparee, and, except M'Pherson, considered the
rtrongest and most active man in Ireland, as well as the most
determined — "pardon me, my friend. In anything where
courage is necessary, no man conld take place before you ; yon
•xe stout, too, I grant, as well as brave ; but I don't think that,
with all your strength, and all your bravery to boot, and I do

THE IRISH RAPPARtft. 89

not undervalue either the one or the other, you'd hare any
chance with that powerful officer. No, my friend, that task
naturally falls to me, and I must hare it."

" I should prefer yon," observed the officer ; " for you ap-
pear to me to be one of the strongest and finest looking men
1 ever saw."

" Very well, then," replied Liddy ; " if I secure you single-
handed, you are our prisoner and hostage."

" And if I secure you ?" added the officer.

" Such a supposition is out of the question," replied Liddy ;
" but if you do, we will allow you to depart in safety, upon
the condition that you pledge your honor, as an officer and a
gentleman, that you will withdraw your men : for upon no
other condition will yon ever leave this place, or, at least, be
set at large from among us."

" That is to say, whether I win or lose, your decision is to
go against me," replied the officer. " That is not fair ; which
of you is the Captain ? I should prefer dealing with him."

" Our Captain is not here at present," replied Liddy ; " if
he were, to no other band would be assigned the task which I
am about to undertake — a task which to him would be an
easy one."

" Well," said the other, stepping back into the clear ground,
" come on ; after this matter shall be decided we will talk
upon the subject of withdrawing my men."

He then put his pistols in his breast pockets, placed him-
•elf in readiness, and desired the gigantic Liddy to advance.

The contest was not a pugilistic one, but simply a trial ai
to which of them could seize, put down, and overmaster the
other, so as to make him admit his defeat, and yield himself a
prisoner. The struggle was, indeed, a terrible one in p >int
of muscular exertion, activity, skill, and power ; and so in*
nesdoua and equally balanced were the strains and effort* o;i

ffO BXDMOHD COUNT O^AHLOlf,

both sides, that the hopes and fears of the spectators rose aud
fell as the one or other individual prevailed At length, after
a contest of fifteen minutes, one of Liddy's legs wa_s forced into
a position which put him somewhat off his centre, aud quick
as lightning his opponent availed himself of the circumstance,
and shot him with great violence to the earth, which was nearly
as hard as stone. He lay stunned for a time, and the other,
placing his foot upon his body, pointed to him, and said :

" Pray, who is the prisoner now ?"

" You are," said three or four voices behind him, and ho
found himself fast pinioned.

" We will not injure you, sir," said Power ; " but we shall
tie you neck and heels until we get free from this cavern. We
are outlaws, sir, and you cannot expect us to observe the force
of any law or principle at variance with our own safety. As
for the trial of strength and activity which has just taken
place, let it pass as an idle thing. You are evidently a bra\?
man, and a stout one ; but we must consider for our safety
and our lives. Get the cords forward, and bind him fast."

" Ha I" exclaimed the officer, in his own voice, who at once
changed the whole coutour of his face into its natural ex*
pression. " Well done, my dear Power ; any other conduct
would have been wrong — safety before everything. There
uow, let me go ; but you see that if I had been a British
officer, and acquainted with the place of your retreat, I could
have taken every man of you."

It is unnecessary to describe their amazement on discovering
that it was their own Captain who had thus imposed upon
them.

" Good heavens 1" exclaimed Power, " are you nothing more
than a mortal man ?"

" Nothing more," replied the ether ; " and, I think, you
will admit a very good one, too— as he must be who could

THE IRISH fUPPAREt. 91

prove an overmatch fur the brave and powerful Paul Liddy
Raise him up, poor fellow. I hope he is not seriously hurt."

Paul, however, soon recovered, and after shaking himself
and. feeling his bones, declared that, with the exception of a
riuging in his ears, he felt conscious of no other injury.

" Now," said their chief, " how did it happen that I was
able to surprise you as I did ? for that is a serious question."

Patchy now advanced, and, with rather a rueful face, took
the whole blame upon himself, and gave a candid account of
the affair, exactly as it happened.

" I asked Pat Mill, who was on guard," said he, " to come
over and have a glass, and while he was takin' it, you boulted
in upon us. Chiemah, but you're the wonderful man ; for I
believe in my sowl you could change yourself into anything."

" Well," replied the other, " let that be a warning to you
all ; never on any possible occasion, or by the force of any
temptation whatsoever, to neglect your appointed duties. I
shall overlook this breach, but not another. Get me some
food."

The three individuals who had been out with him u<.w en-
tered ; but not without being duly challenged. They and their
commander then sat down, and did ample justice to the sub-
stantial fare that was placed before them. When the meal
was finished the Captain desired them to open a bottle of wine,
of which he, Power, and Liddy partook.

" Well, Liddy," said he, " I was anxious to have a trial of
strength with yon, and I've had it. You are a stronger man
than I am, but you have neither my activity, skill, nor energy ;
but, in the meantime, you need not feel abashed by being put
down by me. Indeed, it was chance favored me, or it might
have been otherwise."

" Did you succeed to night !" asked Power.

M Certainly. They prepared for resistance ; bat I ihoated

09 REDMOND COUNT o'fUNLON,

oat, as if I had a reinforcement at hand — ' Fire yo i, there,
from the shrubbery, if they attempt to resist 1' But they did
not, and here are two hundred pounds safe. I care not about
it, however. I am grieved and vexed, for I heard a tale to-
night that has filled me with sorrow."

" What 1" said Liddy, " none of our other men taken, or
our retreat discovered ?"

" No," replied the Captain ; " but a most diabolical outrage
has been perpetrated upon one of my best friends — upon the
daughter of a man who stood by me in the day of my distress
with good faith and honor — I mean Brian Callan, whose
daughter has been forcibly taken away by that unprincipled
profligate, Cornet Lucas."

" Ay," said Quee Harry, " that's the scoundrel who swears
he will never rest till he secures you, and sends your head to
Armagh jail."

"I met young M'Mahon to-night," .proceeded the other,
" and he told me the whole story. The poor fellow is in a
state of distraction, and swears that if he finds out Lucas to
be the author of the outrage he will shoot him stone dead. I
told him he was mistaken, and that Lucas was innocent of
it."

" And why, sir," said Patchy, " did you do so f Lucas is
the man, and it happens that I can tell you all about it. He's
after that good and beautiful girl for months, and she wasn't
far from stabbin' him to the heart in her father's house one
day not long ago. I was at the back windy, and seen it wid
mine own eyes. Why, then, did you tell him it wasn't Lucas
that done it?"

" I had two reasons, Patchy ; the first was, that if M'Mahon
was to shoot him he would be hanged ; and the second, that
I wish to have the punishment of the worthy Cornet as my
own work. Neither will I take the scoundrel's life. Yon all

THB BUSH RArPARKK. 08

k jow I am against shedding blood from both feeling and
principle, unless in defense of my own life, which is an act of
no1 f-pr enervation, natural not only to man, but to every animal
that breathes. I shall give him a worse punishment, not*
withstanding. Now, that girl's father, Brian Callan, has paid
me his tribute for years, and specially during my cripplehood,
wben he generously increased it. For this I was and am
solemnly bound to preserve all his movable property within
doors and without ; and if it happens to be taken away I urn
either to restore it or pay him the value of it. It is true that
the children of a family do not come under this stipulation ;
but that matters not. So help me, Heaven, if he were an
utter stranger to me, no matter what his creed or religion, I
would leave no stone unturned to restore his child and punLsL
the villain who took her away."

" But how can you restore her, sir, if yon don't know wha-e
she is?" asked Patchy.

" Believe me, Patchy, I shall soon find out. When I had
my protection from government for three years, through the
influence of Cornet Montgomery and his friends, I becama
acquainted with an intimate friend of this Lucas."

" Take your time, sir," said Patchy, interrupting him ; " I
can tell you where she is, and that is, strange as you may
think it, in the very heart of Armagh barracks."

" Ay, and from the very heart of Armagh barracks I shall
take her, Patchy — rest assured of that ; but, in the mean-
tune, tell me all you know cbout the transaction f

Patchy then gave him a full and perfect account of the cir-
cumstances, together with the number of the window, reckon-
ing from the corner of the range, not oraitti ig the fact that
he would find three round stones, each of about two pounds
weight, lying together exactly under it. He then showed him
Cornet Lucas's protection, which the other said he would keep

N BEDMOXD COUNT o'HANLOff,

for a time, bat only for a short time, as he said it might bf
useful to him in consequence of the peculiar situation hi which
he stood.

" But now, Patchy," said he, " mark me, don't breathe a
syllable to any one of her friends concerning the place of her
concealment, not even to her father's family, or her lover,
M'Mahon ; keep it a profound secret, otherwise you will ob-
struct and utterly destroy the plan I have conceived, not only
for her liberation, but for Lucas's shame aud punishment."

Patchy, who was well aware of the force and energy of will
which characterized the Rapparee, as well as of his wonderful
fertility in expedients, promised that he would faithfully ob-
serve the injunction laid upon him, although he understood
not its purport. Other business of importance to themselvet
and their designs was then gone into, and all their arrange
Bents aud appointments made for the next six months.

TH MI9H RAPPAMB

CHAPTER VI.

THE iiidividial who commanded this formidable gang of
Kapparees was, considering his position in the world proba-
bly the most extraordinary man of his age, or of any age be-
fore or since. Carte, in his life of Ormond, after giving an
authentic account of his death, states, that for a series of
many years he kept the whole province of Ulster, with a con-
siderable portion of Leinster, in such a state of terror and
alarm as was almost incredible. He asserts, that the whole
military force of the kingdom was not able to apprehend him,
nor to preserve the peace of the country, or establish the se-
curity of tife and property so long as he lived. It is trne he
^as often made prisoner, bat he never failed, by the exercise
«*. his wit, ingenuity, or courage, to escape from the hands of
b;s captors. His personal and mental accomplishments were
amazing. That, however, is not extraordinary ; for, as we
said, the man was not only a gentleman by birth, but Count
of the French Empire — a title which was conferred upon him
during his residence in that country. He is said to have been
the most perfect specimen of a man in the kingdom. He waa
well educated, and could speak the English, Irish, and French
languages to perfection. His athletic powers, strength, and
activity, were unrivaled, but if there was anything more ex
traordinary about him than another, it was his wonderful Pro-
tean power of assuming all characters with such ease and effect,
that when he chose to discard his own, and assume another,
his most intimate friend could not recognize him. He could
pass himself, whenever be wished, for an Englishman, Scotch*
•nan, or Frenchman, without the slightest risk of detection, and
Wth was thr flexibility of the mrscles of his face, tb^t he cooVJ

06 REDMOND COUNT o'HANLON,

transform himself into an old man of seventy with scarcely an
effort. He is said to have been the handsomest man of hii
day, and of the most perfect symmetrv. We may judge of
what his popularity among the people must have been, when,
notwithstanding the enormous rewards that were offered by the
government of the day for his head, living or dead, he was
never betrayed during a period- of about twenty-five years,
either by any of the people or his own gang. The sum of
five hundred pounds had been offered for his apprehension —
equal to a thousand of our money — but without effect. This,
in a great measure, was owing to his generosity to the poor
and struggling people, whom he frequently assisted, and to his
liberality in sharing his plunder with his own men.

Having left their place of rendezvous, his intention was tc
lose no time in rescuing Rose Callan from the clutches of Lu-
cas, for which he had formed a plan that was at least a feasible,
if not a complete one. In order to accomplish this with pro-
per effect and success, he repaired to a village near Four-Mile
House, between Dundalk and Newry, where he was resolved
to make the necessary preparations for the liberation of poor
Rose from her frightful captivity. Having letters to writt .
and other matters to arrange, he selected the cottage of a
friendly family for the purpose. Here, however, he had not
remained long, when a young girl came in, with looks full of
terror, and exclaimed : —

"Oh, sir, run for your life ; an officer and a whole lot o
logers is comin' to the house !"

It was at the time scarcely daybreak, and the sun had not
risen, so that it was difficult to see a person at any considerable
distance. He immediately fled, and when the Captain and
twenty men from Caradevlin temporary barracks arrived at
the house, they found that the bird had flown. In order for
their better success in his pursuit and capture, they had, before

THK IRISH RAPrARKK 07

tearing oarracks, stripped themselves to their waistcoats, and
brought nothing with them but their muskets and bayonets,
and some provisions in their pockets. Having expressed much
indignation at his escape, they were about to retrace their
way, when they heard him call out from an adjacent hill, bid-
ding them defiance. This was an egregious piece of folly on
his part, but frequent success had made him daring, and he
bos been known to bring risk and danger on his own head, by
his extraordinary love for adventure, and a reckless confidence
in his own powers. The officer in command immediately dis-
persed his party into three divisions, and resolved to give him
instant pursuit. He himself, with ten men, were to maintain
the chase in the direct centre, whilst five men on each side
were to form the wings at a distance of a quarter of a mile.

In this manner the pursuit was maintained until noon, with*
out allowing him a moment's rest. Several of the men, how-
ever, became exhausted and unable to continue the chase at so
•evere a pace. Only four were able to keep him in view — which
they did notwithstanding the roughness of the country and the
difficulties they had to surmount in ascending the hills, to which
he took, knowing that his chances in the open and inhabited
country would have been much against him. When evening
came on he concealed himself in a clump of furze, on the side of
of a hill, which was covered with them, hoping to escape during
the night to a small village about half a mile distant, where he
knew he had friends. In this design he was sadly disappointed.
His pursuers, although he had outrun them half a mile, sus-
pecting that he had concealed himself, discharged a gun as a
signal to their lagging companions, and in the meantime
resolved to watch the place until they should arrive. When
the whole body was assembled they instituted a diligent search,
but, fortunately for him, without success. They then held
Mother council, not many yards from the place of his con*

98 RTDMOND COON? . 'HAITLON,

cialment, when they came to the resolution of resting and
refreshing themselves with the slight provisions which they had
brought with them — for it was clear they had not calculated
upon so long and difficult a pursuit. The Rapparee overheard
their conversation, and had made up his mind to attempt
escaping ; but from this he was prevented by the brightness
of the night, and the fact that the soldiers felt it necessary to
keep themselves warm by walking about the very spot where
he lay. It was in a slight hollow, or small excavation in the
ground, over which the furze met, but not apparently to such
a depth as would afford cover or shelter to any person. Th«
men now began to feel the pangs of hunger severely ; and ai
daybreak arrived, observing a smoke at a distance, they re-
paired to it in the hope of procuring refreshment. Instead of
finding only one house, however, they found a village, where
they procured fresh provisions, of which they stood very much
in need. Having satisfied themselves, they were returning to
renew the chase, when they observed a man at some distance,
running towards a cabin that stood on the side of the hill.
The Rapparee, however, on looking behind him, and perceiving
his pursuers, at once altered his course, and the pursuit was
renewed with fresh vigor. The chances now were all to
nothing against him, the soldiers having recruited their
strength by the refreshments they had taken, whilst he nat-
urally felt the twofold exhaustion of fatigue and hunger. Oo
that night, having still baffled and escaped them, he sheltered
himself as well as he could on the side of a mountain, where
he remained nearly famished, until daybreak, when, weak and
jaded, he repaired to the house of a friend in order to get
something to eat. His pursuers, in the meantime, had only
lost sight of him, but had no intention, by any means to givt
him up. As the Rapparee approached the house, he wai
attacked by a dog, who kept up a loud and incessant barking

THE IRISH RArTAMCE. 91

at him before he entered the dwelling. His pursuers, who,
although out of sight, were vdthin hearing of the dog, imrae
diately came up in a body and surrounded the house just ai
the object of their pursuit had sat down, with a cake of bread,
•ome batter, and a jug of new milk before him. It was no*
the beginning of the third day since he had tasted food, and
being almost spent and broken down, he was about to recruit
his strength with the provisions that were before him, when
the officer of the party made his appearance, and with much
courtesy, which the Rapparee returned with the air of a per-
fect gentleman, said :

" Sir, you will excuse me if I say that I cannot feel at ail
•nrry for baring at last overtaken yon — no easy task I assure
you. A pursuit of more than two days is rather a trying
affair to all of tu ; but it so happens that we have you after a
ong run for it Of course, you are aware that I have the
king's warrant for your apprehension, and that you are now
my prisoner."

" Sir," replied the Rapparee, " I acknowledge both. I am
certainly your prisoner, and shall comply with your orders
immediately. Recollect, however, that you have been in pur-
suit of me these two days past, with a speed and vigor which
reflect the highest honor upon your spirits and physical
powers, and that daring all that time I have not tasted a single
morsel of food. I am, indeed, incapable of proceeding just
now without refreshment, unless you should come to the reso-
lution of carrying me. I appeal then, sir, both to your
courtesy as a gtntleman, and your humanity as a man, to per*
mit me to breakfast before I accompany you. When I shall
have finished you may conduct me wherever you wish ; and,
I assure you, it is no small honor to have wcared the great
Rapparee of the North."

" God forbid," replied the Captain, " that I should dachargf

100 REDMOND COUNT o'HANLON,

my duty in either an ungentlemanly or inhunan spirit Tb4
request yon ask is not only reasonable but necessary, and shal'
be granted."

The officer withdrew from the room, but stationed himself
with eight men at the door, whilst twelve others surrounded
the house, rendering escape apparently hopeless. When th«
Rapparee had finished his meal he paused for a brief space,
and at once seizing his blunderbuss, he approached the door,
and covering the officer with it, said :

" Now, sir, you have taken me prisoner, and I admit it. 1
demand house-room and car-room, which, if you refuse I shall
discharge my blunderbuss into your body, and you shall die
with me. I expect nothing but death, and I shall not die una-
venged. I have but one life to lose ; you can take no more ;
but, perhaps, I shall make three or four of you bear me com-
pany."

The audacious spirit of this language surprised the com*
mander of the party, who felt himself so completely takfn
aback that he could not for some moments return an answer.
During this apparent hesitation the Rapparee bounded off, arid
M the men felt also astounded, and stood, besides, in ea<tf»
others' way, so that they could not for a couple of minuteu
fire at him ; it so happened that he gained a space of about
fifty yards' distance from them before he heard the cracking
of their carabines after him. This, together with the time lost
in reloading then* pieces, gave him such an advance in the pur-
suit, invigorated as he feK himself, too, by a good breakfast,
that he shot far ahead of them, got out of sight, and ulti-
mately made a clear escape, to the shame and mortification of
the crestfallen but gentlemanly officer and his party.

In the meantime, we must return to the pitiable R >se Gal-
lon, who is still secreted in the place chosen for her dreary and
terrible captivity. Lucas's diabolical project of iturving hei

THE IRISH lUrFAKTlC 10)

fato compliance was, from the moment of bin last (and first)
visit to her, deliberately acted on, During the first twenty
four hoars the distraction and agony of mind incidental to the
fearful situation in which she found herself prevented her from
bestowing scarcely a thought upon food or nourishment. Her
reflections turned altogether upon her imprisonment, and the
brutal purpose for which it had been brought about. The
pressure of the anguish she experienced was sometimes so se-
vere that she fell into paroxysms of distraction that made her
fear for her senses. These again were succeeded by dull and
heavy periods of gloom, during which she felt her mind stupe-
fied and collapsed to such a degree that she could scarcely
think at all. Her reason became chaotic and pressed down
by a lethargic stupor, which alarmed her far more than the
acute attacks of distraction which she suffered. At the close
of the second day, however, she felt herself assailed by a new
and formidable adversary, to wit, want of food. This attack
was keen, close, and personal. Her other sensations had to
do with her mind and feelings ; but this dealt doubly with her
physical system and its natural demands. Henceforth com-
menced a struggle between her apprehensions of insult and
ruin, and the cravings of her appetite for sustenance, which
may possibly be conceived, but cannot be described in language
The refinement of the plan adopted for subjugating her will
and consequently of overcoming her virtue, was, in its cruel,
ur.iiianly, and cowardly spirit, worthy of the devil himself
Uere the innocent girl was placed, with two of the moat
terrific antagonists to contend with — a dread of becoming the
victim of this ruffian, and the bootless struggle against the
wasting pangs of famine, which were now beginning to con-
•urae her. When her mind passed from the contemplation of
the one to that of the other, she felt the alternations of th«
prospect such as made her wish a thousand times that she wer»

103 1KDMOND COUNT O'klNLOV,

dead. On the beginning of the third day she felt such a sen
ution in the region of her stomach, as for a tine, at least,
banished all other considerations. The deadly spin: of fanrin«
had got in there, and its demands were not only clamorous and
importunate, but painful and agonizing to the last degree.
Perhaps she would not have felt it thus keenly, had not her
imagination been so dreadfully excited by the apprehension of
rain, which she knew it was designed to bring upon her. B«
this as it may, the sufferings which she experienced, as re-
sulting from it, when taken iuto consideration with the hornbl*
object connected with its infliction, nearly drove her mad.
Once every day the hag of perdition came to see her, with a
riew of ascertaining whether the murderous process was likely
to succeed ; but noor Rose, during the first two days, treated
her like an incarnate demon — as she was — produced her skean,
and commanded her out of the room, assenrating that she
would prefer death a thousand times sooner than the dishonor
that was proposed to her. During the wretch's visit at the
close of the second day, she pointed to the decanter of port
wine which she had left behind, and assuming a look of some-
thing like compassion, said :

" Poor girl 1 afther all, I pity you ; and bad as you think
me, you see I wouldn't take away that wine, for 'fraid that
iruth might come upon you. At any rate, take a glass of it
from time to time, and you'll find that it will compose your
mind, and do you good."

Rose felt even that a kindness ; but up to this period she
had experienced no thirst. The satanic suggestion, however,
soon did its work. It was hunger that had pressed upon her
heretofore, and it was not likely that she would ever have
thought of thirst, were it not for the vile woman's mention oi
it. Henceforth the sense of it, whether imaginary or real,
WM associated with the wolfish pangs of famine, which deao>

THE IRISH &APPARKK. 103

kted her within. Poor girl ! Now were those two Harpies
devouring her, sometimes alternately, according as the raven-
ous spirit of the one or otl er predominated, and sometimes
both together, wringing her failing heart with a doable agony

On the beginning of the fourth day her strength was nearly
gone ; and it is to be remembered, that during all that lime
she had had no sleep. For the first two days, apprehension of
violence kept her awake ; but after hunger bad set in, sleep
was physically impossible. It is known that those who labor
under a long period of famine never sleep, or if they enjoy
anything like a wakeful slumber, the agony of what they
Buffer never ceases, but is felt in all its poignancy, probably
with more acuteness. Whether asleep or awake, in this
•tate, she dreamt she was at home, and eating voraciously
at her father's table, but could never feel satisfied. Some-
times she thought she drank, too ; but that her thirst was only
increased by what she drank. These tantalizing hallucinations,
however, were as bad, if not worse, in point of suffering, than
the awaking reality. Her prayers to God during this dread-
ful and inhuman trial, though distracted, were incessant. She
now began to feel as if all corporal weight or gravity had left
her ; her limbs were as light as feat hen, she thought, but so
feeble, that when she sat, and wished to rise again, she could
not do so without several efforts. She pulled the skean out of
her bosom, and felt, to her consternation, that if it were neces-
sary for her defense, she was unable to use it.

In the meantime, visions of home, of her parents, of her be-
loved brothers, and of her lover, were perpetually flitting before
her, and mingling themselves with the dreadful and manifold
Bufferings which were distracting and pressing her down to
death. She saw the skies red with fire, and angels and de-
mons approaching her from the tumultuous firmament ; reason,
tn fact, was tottering on its throne, and the coarse of thought

104 REDMOND COUNT 0'H.INLOX,

BO completely broken and disturbed, that she was little short
of a maniac. There was a looking-glass in the room, and she
staggered over to it, not with any intention of looking into it,
but a mere accident resulting from her feebleness. She caught
a glance of herself, however, and stood for a moment to con-
template her own image. But, alas, what a picture was then;
for her to look upon ! The change which so short a perio«l
had made in her was awful — frightful. Her flesh was gone
almost to emaciation ; her eyes, once so brown and sparkling
were lit up by the dull, deadly glare of famine ; her cheek
bones stood out ; her nose seemed crimpled and drawn in ;
and the skin of her face appeared tightened and shining, as is
the case with those who are about to pass out of life after a
long and wasting illness. At this moment the tortures of
hunger and thirst beset her with such an unrelenting fury, that,
as she knew she had nothing to eat, she resolved to swallow
a portion of what was in the decanter. With this purpose
she tottered over toward the chimney-piece on which it stood,
and endeavored to take it down. Whether she was unable
to do this, or whether the Providence of God came to her aid,
we shall not presume to determine, but the fact is, that th«
decanter fell out of her hands, and was smashed to pieces on
the iron fender, its contents, of course, being spilled about.
She would have wept at this, but she had no tears to shed ;
the dry agony which shriveled her up had absorbed them
all.

When the decanter was broken, and its contents scattered
•bout the fireplace, some strong and heavy smell proceeded
from it, which nearly sickened her. Still the hunger and the
thirst were at her vitals, but principally the former, a ud if she
attempted to turn from the torture they inflicted, she was met
by the under-current of terror which resulted from the co»
temptation of the fate that was before her, and the COD-

THE IRISH RAPPARM. 10ft

iciuamess of her incapacity to defend Lerself. She then
reached with some difficulty an arm-chair, into which she rather
fell than sat, and haying covered her face with her hands, she
groaned alond as well as her enfeebled strength would allow
her. In a few minutes after this the hag came into the room,
and having looked upon her with something like alarm, she ap-
proached her, and putting one of her hands into the poor girl's
bosom, drew out the skeau which she had kept, and looked
npou as the best means for her protection. Alas I the faint
but earnest struggle she made was pitiful, and ougtt to have
extorted compassion from a fiend.

" Oh, don't take it from me," she whispered, in a low, trem-
ulous, but pleading voice. " As you hope for mercy before
the throne of judgment, don't — don't leave me altogether de-
fenseless 1 Oh, think that I am a woman asking mercy from
A woman. Do not— oh, do not" And as she spoke she strove
to retain the grasp of it as well as she could ; but her fingers
were too feeble to hold it, and as for her general strength, ft
was quite gone. She then entreated her for a little food, in
inch tones of supplication as none but some human devil, de-
foted body and soul to the service of Satan — as she was —
could have resisted.

" Oh 1" she exclaimed, "for the love of God, do not let me
die of hunger. A little food — but a mouthful or two of any-
thing that will keep life in me. Do you forget that there is a
God above you, who looks on at your cruelty, and will punish
it ? Have you no heart, no feelings for one of your own kind f
You are murdering me ; but if you wish to do it, take thii
skeun and plunge it into my heart, and then 1 will be out of
pain, and beyond the reach of villainy : by taking my life you
will save me ; but if yon cannot be kind enough to do so,
then, for the sake of mercy — for the sake of God — bring me
a little food, even but a little, for I am surely dying. I did

100 &IDMOND COUNT o'fUXLOX.

not ask it from you before, because I had no thought that 1
was so near death as I find I am.''

The old woman immediately secured the dagger, but said
not a word ; indeed, she had not spoken at all since she cam*
into the room, but took her departure, locking the door, as
usual, after her. When she was gone the poor girl pressed
her temples with her hands ; but after a little time a peculiar
change came over her. She wrung her hands, and burst into
a fit of laughter. She felt herself without hope — beyond thw
she could neither think nor reason now — and in a few minutes
her prison-room rang with the maniac laughter of her despair.

In this state we shall leave her, until we look after some
others of our dramatis personas.

When the old woman left her, the wretch hobbled with
more than usual haste to Lucas's room, whom she found wri-
ting a letter.

" Here, sir," said she, " Here is her dagger, at any rate j
but then I am afeared M

" What are you afraid of now, Pugshy ?" *

" Troth, sir, I'm afraid she's dyin', and that we've carried
the thing too far. The decanter, too, is broken, and the wine
spilt, so that that chance is lost."

Just at this moment an orderly soldier came in, and handed
the worthy Cornet a letter, on the back of which was written
the words, " Haste and attention !" He immediately opened
it, and read as follows :

" MY DEAR LUCAS : Do you wish to have your name made
famous for ever, and to become a Colonel in twelve months ;
aye, and to secure five hundred pounds besides ? If so, get
a dozen men, and proceed without a moment's delay to the
f our-Mile House, where the great Rapparee is lying wounded,
• A vulgar and derisive name for Peggy.

THf IRISH RAPPARK». 101

After baring escaped from and played the devil with Captaii
Nisbet, who, by the way, is going to be cashiered for letting
him slip through his fingers. Lose not a moment, you profli-
gate I If you happen to be in pursuit of a pretty girl, give
it up for the present, at least until to-morrow, and do what the
Irish government, with all the military force in the kingdom,
could not do — that is, to secure the person of this modern
Proteus. I will call at your rooms in the course of the day ;
so leave your keys with the old woman, for I shall exercise a
sharp appetite, and allay a violent thirst upon whatever I can
find in your larder. You are now on the way to fame and
promotion, if you act with spirit ; and I shall soon be on my
way to the barracks, for the sole purpose of seeing you fetch
this devil of a man home with you as a prize that will make
your fortune. That my moustache and whiskers may flourish,
but I ajn delighted at the chance thus offered to you. Seize
upon it, my boy, and you are a made man.

" Ever thine, GEORGE GRAVES,

"The Jolly Major."

Lucas's eye sparkled with delight upon perusing this agree-
able document. Here was an opportunity of distinguishing
himself, equal to, if not greater than that of taking a for-
tress.

" By H ," said he, " the Jolly Major is right— I am a

made man sure enough, if I can secure this fellow, who is the
terror of the country, and there is not a moment to be lost ;
now that he is wounded, he will be able to make no defense,
and I shall hare him. Pugshy, it is very fortunate that
I got home in time. That journey to Dublin was a bad busi-
ness. You know that I went to attend my uncle's funeral,
with a hope that I might come in for a good property, and
What do jou think, but the old scoundrel had not left me evec

108 REDMOND COUNT o'HAXLOlf,

a shilling to bu/ a rope, and be d— — d to him. Here have I
lost four days by it, and it is even very fortunate that I hap
pened to arrive in tune to-day to receive this letter."

" Is it possible he left you nothing, sir ?"

" Not a penny ! he said in his will that he heard a bad ac-
count of me, and so he has left all he was worth to my bn>
ther. However, it's one comfort that I don't stand in need of
it. I am wealthy enough, as it is. Pugshy," he added, " how
is that girl getting on ?"

" Troth, sir," she replied, " I'm afeared I carried the matter
too far : she's hi a bad way."

" What I I hope you have not starved her to death, ha>«
you."

." No, sir ; but hi troth she's pretty near it ; she must get
•ome nourishment."

. ." Go then, and get her some food ; not much, observe ;
Keep her pretty easy till my return ; I -am called out on im-
mediate duty, but I shall not be many hours away. In the
meantime, I will secure this skean and bring it with me.
Who knows but it may be serviceable if we come to short
grips. Major' Graves is to call here in the course of the day,
?o I will leave you my keys, for you know the thirsty old fel-
low will not sit dry-lipped in my absence."

" Throth, I know that, sir," replied the wretch, " but
then, sure, it isn't for nothing that he's called the Jolly Ma-
jor. As for the girl, she must get something to eat, or she
can't live. I did not think myself she was so far gone until
to-day."

"Well, then, give her food — just what will keep a little
strength in her. Curse you, do you think I wanted to starve
her outright ? I intended to see her to-day ; but now I havn't
time for that — in fact, I intended to have seen her the moment
this dagger was secured, only just now I have other work b»

THE IR'sn RAPPARKE. 109

fore me — work that you shall soon hear of, PugsLy ; aye, and
the world, too."

He immediately put on his uniform, ordered out twelve men,
and in a very brief space of time they were on :heii way to
the Four-Mile-House — which was a kind of carman's inn —
between Dundalk and Newry.

After he had gone, the old woman, now alarmed at the con
dition in which she had left their intended victim, returned to
her room with a small portion of boiled chicken and some
nread ; she also brought a little weak wine and water, which
she knew would be useful in restoring her strength and spirits.
On entering the apartment she was astonished at the wild and
frantic look of her eyes — yet the very wildness was woful and
gloomy, and the frantic expression was that of a person in
whom the powers of life were fast ebbing. Every now and
then she put her hand to her bosom, and seemed to search for
her skean ; and not finding it, she uttered a feeble scream,
which in a moment was followed by the miserable laughter we
have described. That she might have borne her death from
mere starvation with calmness and resignation, there is little
doubt ; but this resignation was impossible when we reflect
upon the outrage which she dreaded, and which mingled ita
horrors with her physical sufferings.

"Here, dear," said the woman, assuming a kind tone, "you
have been made to suffer too much ; here is a little food for
you ; but I can't give you much at a time, bekase they say it
might kill you. Here, take a little bread and chicken, and some
weak wine and water, and it will refresh and strengthen you."

She looked into the woman's face, but did not seem to un-
derstand her. 'The moment, however, her eyes rested upon
the food, the instincts of nature came to her relief, and acted
M a substitute for reason. She looked imploringly at the
woman, and, stretching out her feeble arms, exclaimed :

110 REDMOND COUNT

" Ob, give me — give me, save me, save me."

The other then assisted her to partake of the food, but ii
great moderation, after which she gave her a little of the wine
and water. When she had partaken of these refreshments,
she looked np into the old woman's face, and putting forth her
hand, she took that of the other in herfy pressed it, and be-
fore she let it go the obdurate old crone felt a few warm tears
fall upon it. She started as if touched by, as it were, the
shadow of some human emotion ; for, with a hideous grimace,
she said :

" Well, I wasn't always so hard-hearted, and all that I did
suffer long — long ago, and all that drew me to wickedness,
was the false tongues of my own kind, the foul tongues — the
black tongues of women. They first took away my good
name, and then I had nothing to guard, and nothing to do.
but to be revenged on them whenever I could, for the rest of
my life I will now leave you, and when I think you can take
it wid safety, I will bring you more food It wouldn't do to
overreach the mark either," she said in a low tone — which the
Other could not hear ; after which she left her to herself.

Early that morning the family of the M'Mahons were seated
at a melancholy breakfast, for we need scarcely say, that
neither tide nor tidings of the fair Rose of Lisbuy could be
heard by any of those who felt an interest in her recovery.
At that moment her friends were hopeless, and knew not on
what hand to turn in order to continue the search for her.
Whilst in this mood, a person having the appearance of a well-
dressed country gentleman rode np to the door, alighted from
his horse, and entered the house. As the usual mark of re-
spect in such cases, the whole family stood np from their meal,
but the gentleman at once insisted that they should resume
their seats and finish their breakfast.

" I am come," said he, " in consequence of a rumor which I

THI IRISH RAPPAKEt. Ill

heard concerning the abduction of a respectable fexiala
in this neighborhood — a daughter of a man named Brian Cal
Ian, I think."

" It's too true, sir," replied old M'Mahon, " unfortunately,
too true. We have searched everywhere — so has her poor
heart-broken father's family — but can't find a mark or token
of her any more than if the ground had swallowed her. God
help us 1 this unfortunate day, sir. My son, who was on the
point of being married to her, is breaking his heart about her ;
but what's to be done undher God, we don't know."

" I thought at first," said the son, " that it was that no*
torious profligate, Cornet Lucas, who was at the bottom of it,
because he had designs on the girl before ; but then, we went
to the barracks, and the Colonel satisfied us that there was no
party of men out on the night she was taken ; ay, and it's
clear enough, too, that the Cornet himself was at home on the
game night, for he proved it by witnesses ; and yet, somehow,
I am not satisfied, — I know the villain he is."

" Well," replied the gentleman, " I have only to ask if yon
can bring a horse and pillion to the head inn of Armagh. Can
you do this ?"

"Why, certainly," replied old M'Mahon, " I will go myselt
We have as good a pillion as there is in the parish, and three
stout active horses, if one won't do."

" No," replied the stranger, " your son himself must go, and
let him wait in Keenan's inn until he receives orders how to
act ; and when he receives them let him act upon them quickly.
I am myself engaged in this matter for the government of the
country, who, although you are not aware of it, have taken
the business up. It is supposed that she is with the greaf
Rappaiee, and I am upon his trail."

" I don't think, sir," replied the son, " that the Rapparee ha*
Anything to do with it — and I'd swear be has not. He never

Ill REDMOND COUNT o'HAMLON,

yet, they say, committed an outrage upon any woman, bnt
always made it a point to protect them. Even if he did take
her though, it surely is not to the town of Armagh he would
fetch her."

" Who said she was in the town of Armagh?" asked the
gentleman : " I'm sure I did not. 1 only desired you to get
ready a horse and pillion, and to repair to Keenan's inn, and
wait for further orders. If you have such confidence in the
Rapparee, why don't you apply to him to restore her ?"

" If he knew the circumstances," replied young M'Mahon,
" I am sure he would if he could."

" Ay, if he could" returned the gentleman — " you did well
to make that condition ; but I believe he has enough to do to
take care of himself. At all events, if you choose to be
guided by my advice, do so ; if not, follow your own course."

" I will certainly take your advice," replied the young man,
"and will be in Keenan's inn very soon. I don't intend to let
Ifrass grow under us, at any rate."

The gentleman then bade them good morning, and young
M'Mahon having saddled a stout horse, and placed a pilliou
behind him, was almost immediately on his way to Armagh.

" Arrah, Pether," said Mrs. M'Mahon to her husband, as
he feat in a thinking mood, smoking his after-breakfast pipe
" who on earth do you think that strange gentleman can be ?'

" [ have been thinking of that, Mary," replied her husband,
"bnt I can make nothing of it."

*' Arrah, would it be him.n

" Him ! the Lord help you, woman ! didn't I see him two
or three times when I was payin' my tribute to him. Oh, no,
Mary ; whoever it may be, it's not him. You know it was
only the day before yestherday that they say he was hunted
for his life by Captain Nisbet and the sogers. Poor fellow
he has other things to think of than Rose Callan."

THE IRISH RAPPAREE.

lit

" I declare there's something in it, then, or why would h«
desire Con to bring a pillion behind him ?"

" God knows 1" said her husband ; " fro n what Con tould
us the other night about the robbers he met, I wouldn't be
surprised if he was at the bottom of it."

"But Con says it wasn't him he met."

" Neither it was, bekase Con knows him betther than I dc.
Vou know that it is Con who generally pays him his tribute.
God knows, as I said, who it can be. We must only hope
for the best. Con won't be long, at any rate, till he's ii
Armagh."

EROMOND COUNT

CHAPTER VII.

!>• the meantime, Armagh, in the course of a few bonri,
was the theatre of a very different scene. Lucas had been
about an hour or so gone. His man-servant and the old wo-
map were enjoying themselves over a pot of strong beer, BOW,
as the proverb has it, " that the house was their own," and
everything was very quiet in the barracks.

" Pugshy," said the man, " how is the Cornet's affair getting
on ? Will the garrison surrender, eh ?"

" No," replied Pugshy, " till she's made to surrendher — as
made she will be."

"Well now, Pugshy, listen to me! Here's your l»-.alth,
you blasted Witch of Endor 1 I never was a saint any more
than yourself; but curse me if, in my. worst days, I e7fr was
such a sinner. Now, listen 1 If you had one drop of honest
woman's blood in your parchment old veins, you wouldn't treat
that poor girl as you have done ; you wouldn't lend yoursel/
to such damned and cowardly villainy, you infernal ouid hag.*

" And listen you 1" she replied, her withered features be-
coming frightful from some venomous poison which wemed to
stir itself into hideous life within her, — " listen you !" It wai
the family of that girl that ruined me and mine. IL the wars
of Cromel they fought against the Parliament ; aud bekase
we — that is, my family — were Presbyterians, and assisted
Cromel at the siege of Droghedy, where some o' tlem, they
said, wor murdhered by us, they took revenge upon us afther-
wards, and burned us out o' house and home. I'm now payin'
them back in their own coin, or worse coin. She doesn't know
that, nor would I tell her anything about it, only I put the
thing upon a different footing, although I wasn't far from the

THE IRISH RAFFAREE. 115

truth crcn in that. I had very little mercy from my own kind,
bat was hunted down, and by no one so much as the grand-
mother of this very girl."

" Yes, but this poor girl is innocent."

" I know that ; bnt then hasn't she their blood in her
veins?*

This wretch was certainly a strong evidence of the conse-
quences of civil strife ; and we are sorry to say that, even up
u> the present period, the feelings engendered by it are still
the scource of discord and political animosity between parties.
We know that among hundreds of thousands, from whom the
very memory of the facts and outrages has been blotted out
by time, the dark but bitter principle resulting from them still
remains as a curse to the country.

At this stage of their dialogue a knock, having something,
as it were, jolly and authoritative in it, came to the door of
the room in which they sat ; for, be it known to the reader
that, as the drink was at their master's expense, they had
deemed it an act of ordinary prudence to bolt the door. In •>
moment everything was put aside, both the drink and glasses,
and Tom very demurely opened the door, when who should
enter but the jolly Major Graves. Tom had never seen him
before ; but the moment he appeared, Pugshy recognized him
at once.

" Oh, Tom," said she, " bring back the things, it's only
Major Graves ; and, Major dear, how is every tether length
of yon ; and throth I'm right glad to see you, for it's always
holiday time when you come. Tom, get out the things again ;
there's no heedin' nor need of heed in' before the Major."

" You're welcome, sir," said Tom, with something of de>
tection in his grin, notwithstanding. " I've often heard my
master talk of you. Pugshy and I, sir, were takin' a glass
of beer, and talkiu' over things as they go."

jit'* REDMOND COUNT I

"Well," replied the Major, " what's your name ; Oh, Tom I
Well, Tom, my good fellow, let me be no hindrance to either
your enjoyment or chat ; which of you has the keys ? because
whilst you are at your beer, I must have a bof,tle of claret,
and no man knows better where to find it than myself. Oh,
thank you, Tom ; what a devil of a lot of keys you have I
But no, I'm somewhat jaded ; get the claret yourself. Pugshy,
go and find me something to eat."

At this moment a gigantic countryman put his huge face
into the room, and said :

" May I come in wid de rent, sir ?"

" No, sir ; get out, you swab, and shut the door. Ill ro»
ceive your rent by-and-bye, but not till I've got something to
eat and drink first. Stand outside there ; I'll call you in
when I want you. It's a giant tenant of mine, who came
into town to pay me rent, and I may as well receive it, and
vrite bim a receipt here ?"

" To be sure, Major — to be sure ; but, holy man, Major
slfci*lin', if the beard on your upper lip and your whiskers.
>ren't a world's wondher for beauty !"

" Oh, Pngshy, my good old lady, I wouldn't part witfi
those whiskers this moment for the king's commission. So this
is the claret P

" It is, sir ; and I suppose you know the value of it."

M I ought, Tom, because it was I who got it for him. What's
this, Pngshy? Cold fowl — the very thing I'm fondest of;
»nd ham, too. Tom, cut me a slice or two of thai ham.
Fhank you ! I like attention and respect, and always reward
it. There is half-a-crown for you, and another for you, Png-
ghy ; and now I'll have my luncheon in comfort. Pugshy, I
met your master a little out of town ; he told me he was going
to secure this terrible Rapparee, that won't allow honest peo-
ple to sleep qnieMy in their beds — the robbing rascal. He had

THI IRISH IUPPAREB. 117

a party of twelve raeu with him, aud there is DO ck ubt at all
but he will come home a made man. Here's that he may
succeed as / wish 1"

" Troth, sir," said Pugshy, " it's very well he was back from
Dublin in time. He went up four days ago to his uncle's
funeral, hopin' to come in for a haul."

"Well, but did he?"

" No, sir ; devil a farden he left him — not, as he says him-
self, even a shillin' to buy a rope to hang himself wid."

" Upon my soul, then, that was a pity, Pugshy," replied thi
Major, dryly. " Is he long home ?"

" He wasn't half an hour in the house, sir. He had only
time to write a letter, when the news about the Rappare*
reached him."

He then took three or four glasses of claret, and helped
himself to the ham and chicken ; after which he leaned back
in the chair and said, with a comic and significant glance at
the old woman :

"Now, Pugshy, for the secret and the girl. I must see
her."

" Oh, I couldn't do that, Major," she replied. " I promised
solemnly to let nobody see her ; for he tould me if I did he
would take my life."

" I know he did, for he told me so ; but he desired you,
through me, to allow me to pee her, and to reason with her ;
and it will gc hard if I don't drive all this nonsense out of her
bead"

" I couldn't do it, sir ; I must be faithful to my duty. You
know the Cornet's rich, and will reward me well for following
his ordhers. No, sir ; barrin' he gave yor a token, I couldn't
think of it"

" That's precisely what he said. Unless I give you a token,
Major, that faithful old creature will neve: let you lay an ey«

118 REDMOND COUNT o'HAN'LOX,

on her. The token, then," said he, "is tha. she is in the ninth
room from the corner of the range. So now ure jou satfo
Bed?"

Pugshy paused for a minnte, and then, reckoning the rooms
in her own mind, upon her fingers, exclaimed :

" Well, it's true enough, sir ; nobody but himself or me
could tell you that. It will be useless, at all events, for you
to speak to her. Sue would 'a stabbed the masther with
» skean she had if he had come near her; but I took it
from her to-day, because she was so weak that she couldn't
prevent me. The masther brought it with him when he went
out. He desired me, when he was goin' to Dublin, to starve
ber into compliance : and, indeed, I was near carryin' the joke
too far. You'll find her in a poor state, sir."

" The joke, Pugshy, — ah, the joke ; but, indeed, it would
have been a very good joke if it had succeeded ; but perhaps
it has succeeded — eh, Pugshy ?"

" Not yet, sir, at any rate ; but it's hard to tell what might —
hem 1 only the masther was called away to-day so suddenly ."

" Well, get your key, Pugshy, and let us see her. Reason
and common sense may do a great deal, you know. Come,
Tom, you may accompany us till we have a glance at thifc
famous beauty."

On leaving the room they found the colossal countryman
•till waiting outside.

" Goliah, my man," said the Major, " I will take your rent,
and give you a receipt in a few minutes. I am going down
to room number nine here— a lucky number they say — and
will be back presently."

Goliah grinned significantly, and they proceeded together to
visit this unfortunate trirl.

Before they enter, however, we must attempt to afford tha
reader some intimation of what her Bufferings had been previooi

THE IRISH lUrrAKK. HI

to their appearance iu her room. It is very well known by
those who have been reduc-d to the very last gasp by a long
gtarration that toward the close of it all bodily pain ceases.
thus very much resembling mortification when it sets in in a
vital part. There is nothing then experienced but a general
collapse and a gradual decay of all strength and feeling, which
passes slowly, and without pain, into the unconscious torpor of
death. When a little relief, however, in the shape of food is
administered — if this be not frequently, but hi small quantities,
repeated from tune to time, — the powers of the system,
awakened, by the nutrition already received, into new life, as
it were, become sharpened into a state of the most exquisite
torture, by an incessant demand for food. This is the worst
and most terrible state and stage of starvation ; and in this
state did the Major and his two companions find the object of
his search.

As they entered, and indeed before, they heard her melan-
choly cry for food ; and the moment she saw them the same
ay was repeated.

" Oh, food 1" she exclaimed ; " food — food, for the sake of
God ! and, as you expect happiness, bring me food ; for I
cannot bear what I suffer. All I did suffer is nothing to this !"

" Will you be obedient then ?" said the crone. " If you
do, you will get food."

" If I do," said she, clasping her hands, and looking toward
heaven, " may the Almighty strike my name out of the list of
mercy ! Oh, great God ! vouchsafe to grant me strength, for
I have no friend 1"

The Major reasoned with her, using the same logic as the
old woman, but still received the same reply ; and still shf
called for food.

"Tom," said the Major, "go instantly and fetch her food,
and a little wine and water."

ISO REDMOND COUNT o'HAMLOK,

" I'm danged," said Tom " if I had known this, I'd ban
put an end to it, let the consequences be what they might
Have patience, poor girl ; I will bring you food."

While he was absent the worthy Major walked to and fro
the room, giving such glances at the old woman as we need
not describe. When he returned the Major himself helped
her moderately, and also gave her a portion of the claret di-
luted with water, after which the insatiable cravings seemed
to be appeased, and she felt more at ease. The Major then
stepped to the door, and beckoned to the man he called
Goliah to come down. " Goliah," said he, as he came in, "we
want a cast of your office here." And as he spoke he locked
the door and put the key in his pocket. " Tie and gag the
man-servant immediately. Don't be alarmed, Tom," he add-
e-i ; " beyond this you shall experience neither hurt nor harm
at our hands. Submit quietly, and it will be the better for
you ; but if you make a noise that giant will strangle the
breath out of your body. Neither do you be alarmed, Miss
Callan ; we are your friends, and have come to release you
from this cruel captivity, to which the dastardly villain Lucas
brought you by an outrage for which he will pay dearly bt-
fore he sleeps."

" I will not resist, sir," said Tom, " because I cannot blame
you for what you do."

In a few minutes he was tightly tied neck and heels, and
gagged in such a manner that he could not utter a syllable if
his salvation depended on it ; and by the time this was accom-
plished the infamous old crone found herself in the same state,
the worthy Major, with his own hands, having afforded her
that consolation.

" Now," said he to Rose, " remain as you are for a little,
And we shall return for you. Go down to Keenan's, John,*
•aid he, addressing the giant, " and bring up the horse and

THE IRISH KAITAREK. 121

pillion ; and if any one should question yon, say fhey belong to
Major Graves. Be quick."

John disappeared ; and the Major, taking up :he banch of
keys which the servant had left upon the table, tried such jf
them as he imagined might fit into the excrutoi're in which
Lucas kept his money. None of them fitted in, however;
npon which he drew a skeleton, or false key, out of his pocket,
and deliberately opening the desk, took therefrom the sura of
three hundred pounds, principally in gold. Having secured
this, he locked it up again, and left it to all appearance pre-
cisely as he had found it. In a few minutes the man he called
John arrived at the door with the horse and pillion, and the
Major returning to Rose, said :

" Now, my poor girl, you come with me I I am setting you
at liberty — releasing you from the power of one of the most
infamous scoundrels that ever disgraced humanity as a man, 01
his Majesty's commission as a soldier."

41 But who are you ?" she asked. " You are a stranger It
me, and I am afraid of you. Indeed, I am afraid of every onf
— God help me. I hope you are no friend of this villain.

He stooped, and whispered a word into her ear, upon which
her eyes literally danced with delight.

" Praise be to the Lord of Heaven 1" she exclaimed, clasp.
Ing her hands, and looking upward. " Oh, take me away, for
I know that, as a woman, I can trust in you.1'

He immediately wrapped her cloak about her, put on her
bonnet with his owu hands, and taking her up in his arms, as
one would a child, he brought her outside the door, which he
locked, and having afterward thrown the key under the grate
of the Cornet's room, bearing her still in his arms, descended
the stairs, and mounting the horse, she found herself on the
pillion behind him, having been placed there by his gigantic
attendant

BJCDMOND COUNT o'HANLOJI,

- Now, John," said he, addressing him, " yon go quietly on^
and join our friends at the appointed place. As for the com-
pletion of this exploit, the greatest difficulty, perhaps danger,
is, yet before me ; but I think I have provided for it."

The gigaBtic_eountryman then walked out of the barracks ;
and the Major was about to follow him, when, naving- arrived
at the gate, he was challenged by the sentinel, who put the
muzzle of his gun against the horse, and desired his rider to
stop.

" You cannot go out, Major, unless by yourself ; and, at all
events, not with that girl. The orders of my commanding
officer are against it."

" Who is he ?"

" It was Cornet Lucas, sir, who set the guard, after his re-
turn from Dublin."

" I know all that," replied the Major. " I met him on his
way out with his party to take the Rapparee ; but I tell you,
sentinel, that this business " — and he nodded over his shoulder
at Rose—" is likely to get him into a scrape. The Colonel
has been put on the scent of it, and there's likely to be an in-
vestigation, which is likely again to end in a court-martial.
Do you understand that ? As for me, I saw the Cornet to-
day, and I'm trying to get him out of it ; and for that reason
he has allowed me to take my own way in it. Do you under-
stand that again ?"

" I understand nothing, sir, but my orders. If I committed
a breach of duty for any one, Major Graves, I would for
you ; because it's not the first time you have enabled me to
drink your honor's health."

" No, nor it won't be the last," replied the Major. " Yoc
know the Cornet's handwriting, don't you ?"

" I do, sir, as well as my own."

" Now, sentinel, I only trie-! you, and I honor you for tht

THE IRISH BAPPAJtU. liB

ttrict discharge of your duty. Your conduct is highly credits
We. I'm an old soldier myself, and upon my honor, had yoc
permitted me to bring this girl out without your master's writ-
ten warrant to that effect, I would have reported yon to him.
There's the warrant. Read it."
The sentinel accordingly read as follows :

" To the Sentinel on guard at the barrack-gait of Armagh :

11 Permit my friend, Major Graves, who is in my confidence,
and by whose advice I wish to act — in a certain matter — to
leave the barracks in company with any female he wishes to
bring with him, without let or hindrance, or question asked.

" WILLIAM LCCAS,
*' Cornet in His Majesty's," etc., etc,

"Do you understand anything now?" asked the Major,
laughing.

" Oh 1" replied the sentinel, " that alters the matter ; pass
on, Major. And I say, your honor, I was at the business that
night, and I thought it a piece of stark madness to bring her
here."

" Mark me, sentinel," replied the Major ; " you say you
were at the business. Now, sooner than acknowledge that fact
again, go and cut the tongue out of your own head, and give
all the fellows that were there the same caution. There will
be the devil to pay and to flog about it. There's half-a-crown
to drink my health."

"Thank your honor. Pass on, Major."

The Major rode quietly to Keenan's inn, and as be went
along he addressed his companion as follows : —

" Now, my dear girl, in order that you might place confi-
dence in me, and feel that I was your protector, and no friend
or confederate of that scoundrel Lucas, I had no scruple ii

184 REDMOND COUNT O'HANLON,

communicating my name to you : but on this subject I have t
request to ask. Will yon grant it ?"

"If I can do it with honesty and propnety, sir, I will in-
deed— indeed I will."

" With honesty," replied the Major, smiling ; '' with hon-
esty— ahem ! Well, be that as it may, I know you at least
are honest. My request, then, is this — that you will not
breathe the name of the man who saved you from that villain,
and rescued you from his clutches, to any living individual
until you receive permission from myself. Call me Major
Graves. To no human being will you mention it."

" Ah, sir," she replied with emotion, " it would be bad, in-
deed, and ungrateful on my part if I didn't do that much for
the brave man that has saved me from destruction and shame,
and my family, ay, and others too, from broken hearts. Sir,
I take God to witness, I will never breathe your name as the
man that delivered me from worse ^than death, until I have
your own consent for it.

" That will do, my dear girl," said he, "I am perfectly sat-
isfied."

Ou reaching the inn he alit, and was met by young COP
M'Mahon, who felt amazed at seeing a man in a military un-
dress instead of the gentleman whom he expected.

I suppose," said the Major, " you are the young man who
was about to be married to this girl. A gentleman — a gov
ernment commissioner, or something of that sort, who was at
your father's house to-day, got me to come and release the girl,
which I have done. She is ill, but bring her in and let her
have some moderate and nutritious food ; but mark me— no*
much, unless you intend to injure her. It is creditable in the
government to have interfered in this matter, but it is not
creditable to the British army to maintain a state of disciplim
in which such outrages can. occur without discovery. In n»|

THE IRISH RAPPAREK. 125

corps, nothing so shameful and atrocious as this tould happen.
Taite her, now ; she is as pure and virtuous as when you last
saw her. Farewell both ; God bless you, and may you be aa
happy as I wish you 1"

His own horse was then brought out, and having mounted
him, he rode at a smart trot out of the town by the Newry
road.

As to the jolly Major's further movements, the reader need
make no further inquiry about them. He often moved in an
eccentric orbit, and, like Sir Boyle Roche's bird, seemed to be
in two places at the same time. The scene now changes to
the Four-Mile-House, already alluded to, where three or four
stalwart-looking men, who appeared to belong to one company,
sat with liquor before them, along with some other chance cus-
tomers, to whom the men we mention seem to be strangers.
They looked rather grave and demure, but if closely examined,
a keen spectator would have said that there was a daring, if
not a reckless and desperate expression in the eye and coun-
tenance of each.

" Is it true," asked one of the chance customers, " that th«
great Tory is dead at last ?"

" So report goes," replied another ; "they say Captain Nis-
bet wounded him, and that although he escaped from them at
the time, he's dyin' for all that."

" Who do you mane by the great Tory ?" asked one of the
other men ; "do you mane the Rapparee ?"

" To be sure I do, who else — poor fellow 1"

" Faith and the country will be well rid of him," he replied ;
" he has kept it in sich a state of terror and alarm for as good
as five or six and twenty years, that an honest man, especially
if he nau money, couldn't sleep safely in his bed for him. Ai
for myself I'm raa;n glad to hear that there's an end to him
and his robbeiies Where was there a gentleman's house, or

REDMOND COUNT

a nobleman's castle that hasn't beer garrisoned as if it was in
a state of siege, in conseqnence ol him and his gang — the
thieves."

" It's very well, my good friend," replied the other, " that
neither he nor any of his men hears you spakhf the same
words. He wasn't so bad as you say."

" What I say is truth," returned the other, " and where's

the man can deny it ? Is there a man in the two provinces of

Tlsther and Leinsther worth fifty pounds in the world, that's

ot forced to keep arms in his house, and to fortify it every

way he can before he goes to bed ? And don't the gentry of

the counthry sleep with a pile of blunderbushes and other arms

on a table beside their beds, and a candle burnin' on it all

night?"

" Well, I believe it 'ud be useless to deny that same, sure
enough," said the man, " but every one knows that he was kind
and generous to the poor. Faith, neighbor, say what yon will,
I'm very sorry for him, and my own opinion is, that he'll be a
gTeat loss to the country."

" I hope you're none of his men," said the other sharply,
and with something like suspicion.

" No," replied his eulogist, " and maybe he has betther men
than me, and maybe, too, he'd be a different man to-day from
what he is or was, only for the cursed laws of the country."

" Ay," said another of the strangers, named Shane, it wouh1
leem, for so his companions called him, " Ay, indeed, devil re
shave de one o' dem tieves but as soon as dey take to de high
way, but laves it aul on de poor harmless laws — de craturet
Ho — ho, dat's a fine excuse for a robber. It' very like de stoi-j
dat I heard of de wolf and de lamb, poor ting. Dey breaks
de laws first, and den dey quarrels wid 'em."

" Well done, Shane, let him answer that if he can," said or«
of his companions.

THE IRISH RAPFAREK 111

"Well, but wasn't he first outlawed," replied the other
' and couldn't appear at large in the country ?"

" Outlawed 1" said Shane, " faix den it was full time for him
lo be outlawed, for he let daylight through one o' de kiug^
fellow-shubjex. However, God be good to his sowl if he's dead,
and to his body if he's livin', and I say this bekase I'm a
Chrysteen man, and wishes well to my inemies."

At this stage of the conversation the landlord came in — a
red-headed Milesian, with a face freckled almost into scales, a
pair of deep-set, cunning eyes, and a saddle nose, under which
opened a cavernous mouth, that displayed an enormous chev-
*ux defrise of strong, ill-sorted tusks, yellow as saffron.

" Neighbors, there's something stirrin' abroad in the coun-
try ; here is an officer with a party of sogers, ancf I think I
know who they're lookin' for ; but thanks be to goodness, he's
oot here. The d — d villian, I wouldn't for his weight in goold
that he was found hi my house."

" What villain do you mane ?" asked the apologist of the
Rapparee.

" Why, the Tory that was shot by Captain Nisbet's sogers,
the Great Robber of the North."

" Well, I think he's not likely to trouble yon," said the
other; " isn't the man dead or dyin', they say ?"

" And I'm glad to hear it," replied the landlord, " only I
hope he won't die here. As to that if, he was dead this min-
ute, I'd take my oath his very ghost would rob on the high-
ways."

" In that case," replied his friend, " it would be bad policy
to take his life ; he might do more harm dead than livin'."

"At any rate," said the landlord, " there's a report abroad
for the last couple of days that he wishes to die in this house,
that is, if he's not dead already. It was here in a quarrel ha
once killed a man, and they Bay he thinks that. a* a pnniah

128 REDMOND COUNT O'HANLOW,

ment and penance on himself, he ought to die nowhere etae
I'll take very good care he won't die here though, — I might
desart the house if he did ; for divil resave the man, woman, or
child 'ud come near it afther nightfall, the place is so lonely."

They had scarcely concluded when Lucas and his men en-
tered the house, and the former immediately demanded to see
the landlord. This worthy man at once presented himself, and
asked what refreshment his honor and his party required.

" First put those men out," said Lucas, " and after that I
have something to say to you."

" My dear friends, will you plase to go out for a while," said
the landlord ; " his honor has something to say to me."

" But we're travelers, landlord," said one of the knot we
have alluded to, " and as we're tired and intend to sleep here
all night, it's hardly fair to disturb us/''

" I am on the king's business, my friends," said Lucas, " and
if you don't disappear in an instant, -you shall feel something to
your disadvantage. Get out, you scoundrels, at once 1"

" Oh ! on de king's business, God bless him," said Shane :
" bedad we'll do any ting for de king, or to help de sogers, ai
dey wanted us. Come boys, we must obey de offisher and \u»
sobers."

" It's well you did," said Lucas, " otherwise — begone, I say.
Now, landlord," he proceeded, after they had disappeared,
" where is this man ?"

" What man, your honor ?"

" Why, the Rapparee, that's lying wounded in this house."

" Sir, I thank goodness there's no such man here ; or rather,
I'm devilish sorry that there is not."

" You are lying, sir," replied Lucas ; " I see the lie in that
damnable grin of yours, and I give you my honor that if we find
him here, you shall accompany him to Armagh jail. As hit
barborer, you are as liable to be hanged as he is."

THE IRISH RAFPAAUL 121

" I know that, sir," replied the landlord ; " but come, let yoa
and your men follow me, and if be is here yoa mast find him."

The whole house was searched — the out-hooses were search
ed, every nook and corner was searched — the chimneys were
Jearched — every press, chest, and every bed in the house war
searched, but without success. There was no Rapparee nor
Tory within the premises, and Lucas's indignation at the dis-
appointment was at the red heat after their return to the
tap-room.

" I see you're disappointed, sir," said the landlord, in a con
Sciential voice ; " but I have something to say to yon, only I
don't know whether to say it before the men or not."

" Come into another room," said Lucas ; and they accord,
ingly did so. " Now," he continued, " what is it you have to
gay?"

" Did yon get information he was here, sir ?"

" Why do yon ask that question ?"

" Bekase, if you did, the information wasn't far wrong. He
teas to be here, and he tx to be here— and if I'm not mistaken,
hell be here this evenin'."

41 How is that ?"

" Why, sir, his friends have given it, that he's either dead or
dyin,' in ordher to prevent any search for him ; but I believe
the truth is, he's only slightly wounded ; for how could he es-
cape from Captain Nisbet's soldiers if they had wounded him
severely ?"

" That's very true," said Lucas ; " but then, why should h«>
wish to come here ?''

" Ah, sir, you d m't know the cut ning of that man. He
think's he'll be safer in a house like this, bekase it's the last
place that anybody would think of searchin' for him, and that
he can stay here till he recovers. I'm glad you came, air
You've saved me trouble ; for, I tell you, that if he had come

0

180 REDMOND COUNT o'HANLOV,

here, I'd have had the knowledge of it in Armagh barracks
as fast as man and horse conld carry it."

" In the present case, what would you have me do, then 1*
asked Lucas. " Do you think he will be here in the course
of the day 1"

" Why, as to that, you know, sir, that as I'm in none of
his saicrets, it's impossible for me to say ; but I think, from
what I hear of his cunning, that it's very likely — and for that
raison, I'd recommend you and your party just to stop where
you are until evening."

" Yes ; but don't you think it improbable that he would
expose himself, by coming here in daylight ?"

" Why, sir, it's just bekase no one 'nd suspect him of such
a thing, that he'll come in daylight ; but you know very well
he'll come disguised, if he does come. Your plan then is, at
all events, to wait until eveniu', so as that you may have the
ohances, if they're in your favor." *

" Well, under the peculiar circumstances of this affair, I >xv
•ieve, landlord, yon are right — and in that case, you had better
prepare something in the shape of dinner for us. We caa'4
eit here all day with empty stomachs."

" Oh, then, I'm afraid, sir, I have nothing daicent enough
for yez — nothing fit to offer yez."

" Why," asked the other, " what have you got ?"

" Why, then, divil a thing, sir, barrin' ham and fowl."

"And what better conld you give us?" said the other.
" Let it be ready in due time. I only hope the rascal Rap-
^aree will come, and that we shan't have our journey for
aothing."

" Well," replied the landlord " I hope there's no fear o'thot.
God knows, it 'ud be a pity that you should go home as you
came. Would you accept of a glass of wine, sir, as a treat
*rom me, wid great submission for tak:n' such a liberty f

THE IRISH RAPPAREB. 131

"No, sir," replied Lucas, somewhat superciliously, "I shall
not ; but fetch me a bct'le, and let the men have something
to drink — not much though, for they must keep strictly sober
It's but fair we should do something for the house, at all
* vents. Bring the wine to another apartment ; my presence
might only interrupt business in your tap-room."

All this was immediately complied with. Dinner in due
time made its appearance, Lucas dining in the apartment
where he had been sitting, and the soldiers in the tap-room.
A considerable portion of the day had now passed, and evening
was drawing on. The soldiers, in the meantime, had been
plied with more liquor than had been contemplated by thoir
commanding officer. The knot of strange travelers, whom we
have mentioned, entered into conversation with them, and as
A mark of then* respect for the " brave sogers," treated them
very liberally, so that when the landlord presented hia bill,
and received payment from Lucas, the item for liquor did not
go beyond what he had ordered them, whilst in the meantime
o«t of them were tipsy.

188 REDMOND COUNT o'HAXLOV,

CHAPTER VIII.

LUCAS was now about to give up all expectation of the Rap
paree, and had thoughts of turning out for barracks, when the
landlord approached him, in a state of great but joyful agi-
tation, saying :

" Well, sir, if ever a gentleman was born to luck, and fame,
and fortune, you are. By the sky above us, he's coming. I
saw, this minute, four men carryin' a sick person down the
road toward the house. Keep quiet, sir, and don't let your
men stir till they come — then pounce upon them."

He had scarcely spoken, when four men bore an old de-
crepid female into the tap-room, and stretched her upon a
couple of chairs. She was evidently dying, and called aloud
for a clergyman. Lucas, big with • expectation, approached
her, but a single glance was sufficient to convince him. In-
stead of the far-famed Rapparee whom he had expected, ther«
was nobody ill but some wretched old crone, who was appar-
ently in the last agonies. In order to assure himself, however,
against imposition, he examined her withered arms and hands,
inspected her worn and wrinkled features, and her thin, shriv-
eled neck ; after which he returned to finish his bottle, morti-
fied and disappointed to the last degree. " Some infernal an-
tiquated hell-cat," said he, " the very picture of old Pugshy
Wallace."

The unfortunate wretch, hi the meantime, was calling, in
tones so wild and full of despair, for the assistance of a Prot
estant clergyman, that she became the subject of general com-
passion, especially as there was not a minister of that per
suasion within two or three miles of the house. No person,
however, should, under the most desponding circumstances ever

THE IRISH RAPPARER. 133

abandon nope. Whilst the poor woman was feebly shrieking
for the consolations of religion, a venerable-looking gentleman,
far advanced in years, was observed riding past the house, bnt
without any apparent intention of stopping ; and that he was
of the Protestant church, toe, was sufficiently evinced from
his shovel hat, and his very canonical costume. This fact
was mentioned to the landlord, who at once ran out and
acquainted him with the deplorable condition of the dying
woman.

"I trust, your reverence, it was heaven sent you on the
way," said he ; " and at the very nick of time, too — for I see
you are a Protestant clergyman, and it is such she is crying for."

The clergyman had pulled up the noble horse on which he
rode, and exclaimed :

" I trust it was, my friend : but I am feeble, very feeble,
and you must assist me to alight. I am indeed glad of this —
poor creature, bring me to her ; but stay, I must lean upon
yon, for, as I said, I am indeed very feeble, my friend, and feel
thai this poor woman's case will soon be my own.''

In this manner they entered the tap-room where she lay ;
and the parson, having contemplated her for a few moments,
raia.x bis eyes with a strong devotional feeling, and, turning
rouna, *Jd :

" My friends, will you be good enough to withdraw for a
brief space— it will not be long ; for the parting spirit is just
hovering upon her lips ; retire with quietness — no noise ; soldiers,
lever mind the arms — the noise of removing them will distract
and disturb her at this solemn moment, when all should be
peace. There now — thanks ; your arms will be safe ; just stand
outside, and shut the door. Landlord, do you stay I Have
you any cold water in the room, that I may wet her lips f

" Yes, please your reverence/' replied that person ; " here'i
a jug full of H."

184 REDMOND COUXT o'SANLOX,

" Set it over here then, and close the door."

The landlord complied with both his wishes, after which hit
voice could be heard outside, admonishing and consoling the
dying sinner to whom he had been so providentially conducted.
At length the ceremony was concluded ; and the company, on
re-entering the room, had the satisfaction to see that the mind
of the departing woman was composed. She expressed her-
self quite happy, and very grateful for the spiritual aid she had
received.

11 Landlord/' said the benevolent old gentleman, " it would
be kind in you to remove this poor old creature to a bed.
There is something profane in seeing a Christian spirit pass to
its last account in such a place as this. Remove her to a bed
then ; and accept of this to requite you ;" and as he spoke h«
placed a sum of money in his hands. " You have there,'' h«
added, " what will enable you to provide her the necessary
comforts which she may require, for the short time she lasts,
and for her decent interment afterward. She tells me sh«
was taken suddenly ill on the public road, not far from th«
house. In this case, it is not improbable that she may still re>
cjver F so, landlord, let her have the trifle which I placed
in your hands. Pray, where are those soldiers from ?"

" From Armagh, your reverence," replied the landlord.

•'Are they accompanied by an officer in command ol
them?"

" They are, your reverence."

" I am very feeble ; would you present my compliments, and
any I am too weak to wait upon mm, and that I shall take it
as a favor if he will come to me here. Say I am the Rev.
Doctor Wilson, of Killeeny, and would be glad to see him."

This was done ; and, in the meantime, tae sick woman wai
immediately removed to another room, and placed in a comfort
able bed.

THE IRISH RAPPAUU 18*

" Sir," said the clergyman, addressing Lucas when he enter*
ed the room, " I understand yon are the officer in command of
this party."

" I am, sir," replied that gentleman.

" Pray, is your rovie for Armagh ? because if it be, I should
feel glad of your escort so far."

" It is, sir," replied the other ; " and we shall feel very hap-
py to afford yon our protection."

" Many thanks, sir ; I shall gladly avail myself of it Do
yon soon travel 1"

" I think we shall go immediately ," replied Lucas. " We
have been waiting here upon a matter of importance for many
hours, and I am beginning to fear that a worthy friend of mine
has suffered himself to be humbugged, and made a regular
cat's-paw of, and myself to boot. Sergeant Wallace, turn out
the men ; and, landlord, my horse I"

In a few minutes he and his twelve dragoons were mounted ;
but the feeble old man was somewhat more tardy ; he leant
upon the landlord to his horse, and was not able to mount him
wilLout his assistance. We may observe that the strange trav-
elers who left the room with the soldiers whilst the clergyman
was engaged with the dying woman, did not again return with
them, nor were they seen afterward about the place. They
bad disappeared.

The night was now clear ; and the moon, then in her second
quarter, was only occasionally visible. Still it might be called
• bright night, as the clouds that from time to time obscured
her, were fleecy and transparent. The party nad now ridden
some miles, and reached a lonely part of the road, which waa
hemmed in on each side by several ranges of trees. On arriv-
ing here, a band of men came out, right and left, upon them ;
but not until they had sufficient time to have recourse to their
fire-arms ; and it would seem that this delay of the attackinf

134 REDMOND COUNT o'HAXLOJT,

party was deliberate and voluntary, the!" object being to di»
hearten the soldiers by allowing them to feel that their armi
were useless. The landlord, in fact, had, while the clergyman
was engaged with the woman, taken the powder out of the pans
Df their guns, and poured water into the touch-holes, after
which he replaced the powder in the pans, lest upon examina-
tion it might be missed, and the trick discovered. The soldiers
leveled their carbines at them, and fired — but without effect ;
nothing resulted but so many flashes in th&pan.

" O mother of Moses, we are betrayed I" said Lucas. " Oof
arms have been tampered with, and are useless."

" Yes, Lucas," replied the decrepid clergyman, seizing him
by the collar, with a grip like that of Hercules, " you are be-
trayed, and shall now suffer for your inhuman and cowardly
conduct to the inoffensive and virtuous daughter of Brian Cal-
"an." He held a pistol in one hand, as he spoke.

" Seize and disarm every man of them I" he shouted, " I
shall take care of their commander. Lucas I" he said, address-
ing that gentleman ; " if you move a single muscle in the act of
resistance, I shall shoot you dead ; otherwise your life will be
spared."

The struggle betwen the Rapparees and the military was
but short ; and we need not feel surprised at this, because there
were upward of two to one against the latter, most of whom,
moreover, were intoxicated, and almost incapable of resistance ;
independently of this, the Rapparees were by far the mor«
powerful and desperate men.

" Strip them," said their leader — ' every man of them : thei
tie their wrists tight behind them. Take off coat, waistcoat
and shirt; and when that is done, tend Goliah here. Now,
Lucas," he added, " if you possessed the spirit of a gentleman,
or the courage of a soldier, I would myself cross swords with
jroo, and give you a chance. But, hi either sense, you have no

THI UU8H RAPPAREE. 131

claim of the kind upon a brave or generous num. None but ab
inhuman scoundrel, and a coward at heart, wo-. Id treat aui
female as Miss Callan has been treated by you."

"I was from home," replied Lucas, "and ant not responsi
ble for it It was contrary to my wishes."

" Was it contrary to your wishes, sir, that she was dragge> I
way in the clouds of night from the protection of her father a
roof, with so abominable and brutal a purpose. Now, sir, I
tell you that I — even I — the Rapparee and outlaw, will hat e
you disgraced as a soldier, and cashiered as a coward and a
scoundrel from the British army. The officers of the Britbh
army, sir, are — with some exceptions, like you and others —
brave men, and gentlemen, and yon may take my word for it,
they will neither abet nor countenance you as the perpetrator
of such an inhuman and revolting outrage as this.'1

In a few minutes the military was stripped naked from the
middle up, each man with his wrists tied so tightly behind him
that he could render, neither to himself or others, the least
assistance. During the performance of this feat, the Rapparee
held Lucas hard and fast, and when it was completed, h«
said :

" Send Goliah here."

This was the name he had bestowed upon the man known
as " strong John M'Pherson," in consequence of his tremend-
ous physical powers.

" Now, Goliah," said he, " take this scoundrel and strip him
precisely as the others, by far his betters, are stripped. If he
attempts to injure you, I will shoot him dead ; and when he
it stripped, I will then give you further directions ; but in
order to save tune, take another man to assist yon."

When this also was accomplished, he beckoned to a stout,
active-looking little fellow, known amoug them as " Qiu*
Harrj."

138 EEDMOND COUNT o'HANLOJT,

" Come here," Baid he, " have you the scourges — the emt
with nine tails ?"

" I have, sir," replied Harry ; " and, upon my sowl, itfs I
that's ripe and ready to use them."

" Take him over, then," said he, addressii g Goliah and hii
companion ; " strap him with a rope against a tree — and yon.
my little man, give him fifty lashes ; neither more nor less."

When Lucas heard this he could keep silence no longer.

" If you be the great Rapparee," said he, " you belie your
own character. I have often heard that you were generous."

" Generous !" he replied, proudly — " who dares assert that
I am not f Yes, sir," he proceeded, " I have performed acts
of generosity, of charity, of mercy, that your dastardly spirit
could not conceive during a whole eternity. But I am not
here to justify my life. I leave that to another tribunal. I
am here, however, to punish you, not only for the cruelty yon
Inflicted upon an innocent girl, but for the atrocious and dia-
bolical outrage which you intended. Take him away and
punish him."

In less than a minute he was strapped to a tree, as directed,
when Quee Harry immediately set to the work of castigation,
which he plied with such sincerity and vigor, that the unfortu-
nate scoundrel's screams and bowlings might have been heard
at an immense distance — tradition states it at that of three
miles, as the night, it is said, was calm. When this was con*
eluded, they placed him, bound and bleeding at the head of
his men, all of whom were obliged to walk in that degraded
etate into the barracks of Armagh.

" Here is a skean I got with him," said Goliah. " WhaJ
the devil could have made him carry such a thing ?"

" Give it to me," said the Rapparee. " I will return it to
the proper owner, who, I trust, will never again be obliged to
ue it in defense of her honor and good name."

THK UU8H RAPP..RKK. 181

The Rapparee's words to Lucas were prophetic. His brother
officers, headed by Colonel Caterson, having been led, by aa
investigation into the punishment inflicted on him by the Rap-
paree, to sift the particulars of the outrage which, now that
the poor girl was free and in a state of safety, flew like wildfire
over the whole country, instituted an inquiry, which ended in
Uis trial by a court-martial, the sentence of which was : "That
Cornet Lucas, in consequence of being convicted of conduct
unbecoming and disgraceful to an officer and a gentleman, be
dismissed the British army." Nor was this all. He was prose'
cuted for the abduction by her father, aided and supported by
the brave and fiery Johnstons of the Fews, and received aa
punishment a term of two years imprisonment.

Here, now, may the reader perceive, not only the extraordl
nary talents and fertility of invention, which characterized this
remarkable man, but the singular ease and felicity with which
tie inflicted upon the head of Lucas such a terrible plenitude of
vengeance. In the first place, he robbed him of three hundred
pounds ; next, he robbed him and his soldiers of whatever
money they had about them when stripped ; then of their
clothes, arms, ammunition, and horses, all of which were seized
upon as regular and legitimate booty, and as such were they
appropriated. But, perhaps, in the catalogue of disgraces which
Lucas suffered, the degradation of his being flogged like a felon
by the hands of a common highwayman, and driven, we may
almost say, into his own barracks at the head of twelve of hit
own men, tied and stripped naked, was, of all he Buffered, the
most bitter and penitential to him. He nourished a long and
undying vengeance, however, and ultimately lived to turn the
tables on the Rappare^ ; — but no more of this here, as wt
nope to treat the whole subject on a larger scale.

One evening, about a month after the event we have just
tocribed, there was a wedding held at the house of Briaa

140 REDMOND COUNT o'HANLOX.

Callan. The son shone clear and cloudless, the. air was balm,
and a mild, serene light lay upon the face of nature. The a*
semblage was numerous, and every countenance was lit up by
a sense of happiness and innocent enjoyment. Callan's house,
although large and spacious, was unable to contain the num-
bers whom the hospitality and kindness of both parties — we
mean the friends of the bride and groom — had brought to-
gether on the occasion. They consequently adjourned to a
beautiful green that stretched beside the house, where they
nad ample room to enjoy the dancing, which is usual on such
occasions. Here healths went round, stories were told, and
songs were sung, whilst the merry dance was sustained with
agility and vigor. In this state were the individual? who
composed thie festive and happy meeting, when a well-dressed
and very handsome gentleman approached, and after a pause
advanced to the bride, whom he bowed to gracefully. Then,
turning to her husband, he said :

" Sir, will you permit me one dance with your lovely bride f

" With pleasure, sir," replied M'Mahon ; " you do her and
me an honor."

He then took her out, and danced with a degree of ease
and elegance that surprised them all, whilst at the same time,
he retained all the steps peculiar to the best dancers among the
peasantry. Having concluded it, he led the blushing girl back
to her seat, and taking her skean from his breast, he presented
it to her, with these words :

"This, you know, is yours; and I feel satisfied that yea
ucTer will again have occasion to use it in defense of your
honor. Keep it as an heir-loom in your family, and as a me-
morial to your children of their mother's virtue. Perhaps yon
may also tell them, when I am in the dust, that on your wed-
iing day you had the honor — I will say so— of taking oue
dance with REDMOND COUNT O'HANLON P

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Tales of the Munster Festival*. The Duke of Monmoutli.
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cloth, red edges, 170 pages .. ........ ... 60

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» " «* 34 « " " " '• 60

M it tl -2 M tt it .1 It go

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LAST OF THE CATHOLIC O'MALLEYS 75

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LILY'S VOCATION, AND OTHER TALES 4O

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Handy Andy. Rory O'More.

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LOUISA KIRKBRIDE. By Rev A. J. Thebaud, S. J. 530 pages.. 1 25

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u " STORIES. 6 " " " 7 50

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LILY OF ISRAEL. New and approved edition. Illus. 380 pages. 76
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LIFE OF THE GLORIOUS PATRIARCH, ST. JOSEPH 76

LIFE OF ST. PATRICK. By Rt. Rev. M. J. O'Farrell 1 00

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LIFE OF ST. WIXEFRIDB. 180 pages, illustrated 60

LIFE AND LABORS OF ST. VINCENT de PAUL 75

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LIFE OF ST. ALPHONSUS M. LIGUORI. By Bishop Mullock 60

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LIFE OF BLESSED MARGARET MARY ALACOQUB. By Rev.

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LIFE AND TIMES OF ST. BERNARD. ByM. L'AbbeRatisbonne
LIFE OF ST. ELIZABETH OF HUNGARY. By the Count de

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26
50

50
00
00

LIFE OF ST. LOUIS, King of France 40

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LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS OF ROME. By LadyGeorgiana Fullerton
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LIVES OF THE CATHOLIC HEROES AND HEROINES OF

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MAY BROOKE; OR, CONSCIENCE. By Mrs. Anna H. Dorsey. 1 «5

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Four Great Evils. Internal Mission of the Holy Ghost.

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MEDITATIONS ON THE INCARNATION. By St. LiKuori... 75

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MISSION CROSS. AND THE CONVENT OF ST. MARY'S.... 53

MISSION AND DUTIES OF YOUNG WOMEN. Rev. White. D. D 60

MISSION OF DEATH, THE. A Tale of the Penal Law* in N. Y. 75
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NEW TESTAMENT. 8 vo., cloth, embossed 150

i* mo , large type, cloth, red edges..................... 1 25

18 mo., cloth, red edges ................... 60

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PASTOR'S VISIT TO THB SCIENCE OF SALVATION, aoo

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•PARISH PROVIDENCE, A. By E. M. Lynch. Paper 50

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PEARL IN DARK WATERS. A Tale of the Times of Blessed

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POPE AND MAGUIRE'S FAMOUS DISCUSSION 1 25

POEMS OF THOMAS D'ARCY McGEE 2 OO

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PRIEST'S BLESSING, OR DESTINY 1 25

PROCTER. Complete Poetical Works of Adelaide Procter. Imperial

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PRETTY PLATE, THE. By J. V. Huntington 40

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QUEEN'S CONFESSION, THE. By Raoul de Navery 75

*QUESTIONS ON VOCATIONS. For Young People Generally 80

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RECLUSE OF RAMBOUILLET. By Anna T. Sadtier 40

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ROME AND THE ABBEY. A Tale of Conscience 1 2S

ROME, ITS RULERS AND ITS INSTITUTIONS. J. F. Maguire 2 00

ROSARY BOOK. Paper cover. Illustrated 10

ROBERT MAY AND TOM HOWARD 40

ROSARIO. A Catholic Ta'.e of the Sixteenth Century •»

ROSEMARY, OR LIFE AND DEATH. By J. Vincent Huntington 1 50

ROSE LE BLANC. By Lady Georgiana Fullerton 1 00

ROSE OF ST. GERMAIN'S, THE. By Agnes M. Stewart 125

ROSE OF VENICE, THE. 950 pages — 76

'RYAN'S POEMS. By Rev. Abram J. Ryan, the Poet Priest of

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