bear, until, from the nervous convulsion of his frame in the paroxysm of his agony, he made the triangles shake. And the man who resisted this torture was a rebel!

The night passed, and the gray dawn of morning just afforded light sufficient to distinguish objects. A small party of a Highland regiment had been despatched from the little village of D to search for arms*. They stopped at the cabin of a peasant, and demanded entrance. Poor Pat had a cow, a rare blessing. in the act of cleansing its miserable hovel, with a large three-pronged fork, when he observed the soldiers around his cottage.

He was

Irishmen ge

nerally act from the first impulse; and the first impulse of Pat's mind at this moment was selfpreservation. He darted from the hovel, and with the long fork in his hand, dashed through the astonished soldiers, heading his course towards a neighbouring bog, bounded by the road over which we passed. The party pursued— Pat had gained an important point. The attention of the enemy was drawn off from his castle, and his little family had time to make arrange

*The Highland regiments were distinguished in Ireland for humane and orderly behaviour, strict discipline, and soldier-like conduct.

The pursuit was hot

ments for their safety. but the retreat still more vigorous; the incumbrance of brogues was soon laid aside, and Pat, in his native phraseology, gained the bog in a jiffey. He was more fleet than his pursuers; but a stout, lengthy, brawny grenadier, as familiar with bog and mountain as the best Irishman in the province, had far outrun his companions, and every moment gaining ground in the pursuit, was just within bayonet reach, when Pat, wheeling rapidly round, charged him with his long three-pronged fork in front; the thrust was a home one, and the Highlander fell. Pat, who in all his varieties of life had never seen the Highland costume before, gazed in surprise on his fallen enemy, addressing him in his native language—“ Though eshin, lhat augus gu neineg sheighmough yut S' Dioul un daugh viegh urth er maudin un eigh sheigh, augus taught amaugh gou dugh brieshtiegh."-"Take that, and much good may it do you; you were in a devil of a hurry after me this morning, when you did not wait to put on your breeches."

We now changed our route, which during the night had been directed to the west, and bounded by the smooth deep lake over which rise the ruins of Ferney's ancient castle, gloomy and dark as the deed it records, an imperishable

monument of broken faith and outraged hospitality*.

The morning sun had given a fresh aspect to nature, and freed from the chilling damps of night, we enjoyed the rich expanded prospect, which lay far to the east before us. The fruitful valleys extending to the right, rich in pasture and abounding in corn. The rugged mountains on the left, sheltering the bold and capacious bay, where Irish valour triumphed, and selfimmolation gave victory to her naval chief. Far as the eye could discern, bounding the distant horizon on the north, the lofty Slieve Donard, with towering head, seemed to contend with the clouds.

We journeyed, somewhat sorrowful, towards the coast, for the hour of separation drew near. We lingered unwilling to part, but fate or fortune urged, and the decree was irresistible.

* In the period of Sir William Fitzwilliam's administration of Ireland, in the reign of Elizabeth, M'Mahon, the Black Baron, chieftain of Ferney, was escorted from Dublin by the Lord Deputy, with a formidable retinue, under pretence of establishing him in the peaceable possession of his extensive estates in Ulster.-On the third day after their ar. rival at Ferney Castle, the unfortunate M.Mahon, having undergone the mockery of a trial by a jury of common soldiers, was executed at his own door, and his estates divided by the Lord Deputy amongst the officers of the escort.

Magenis was brave, but his heart was stricken with grief-he had just fled from the horrors of conflagration, of torture, and death-he had but a short period before seen his mansion consumed, and had scarce time to rescue from the flames his young and interesting wife, with their infant child. Proclaimed a rebel, with the price of his political offences on his head, he had no alternative but exile. He bade me an affectionate farewell, struggling to conceal the painful emotions of his soul, and pronouncing in a tone of voice scarcely audible, the name of wife and child, I perceived he anticipated that protection which the ties of friendship and consanguinity demanded. Kind, hospitable, and brave, he was the uniform foe of oppression and the friend of distress. The generous heart of Lowry seemed to feel the misfortunes of his friend more than his own; both were equally committed, for neither could view the miseries of his country, and remain an inactive spectator of the scene; we parted with deep regret on either side—a moment, and escape had been impracticable.

CHAPTER XIX.

Antrim and Down-Rising of the United Irishmen in Antrim-Henry Joy M'Cracken, commander-Battle of Antrim-Defeat of the United forces.

THE two principal counties of Ulster, Antrim and Down, which had previously declared for action, impatient of the restraint imposed by the indecision of their leaders, and ashamed that the first in organization should be the last to take the field, hastened to erect the standard as a rallying point to the province.

The chief command in Down had been early assigned to Russell, and the military organization of this county was considered complete, when talent and virtue were combined in the person of its chief. The early days of Russell had been devoted to military pursuits, but the milder lessons of classic science had not been forgotten. Gentle by nature, but lofty in soul, he was enthusiastic in all his attachments; and while he bore personal privations with an heroic