Whereupon Lord By and his brother, urged on by their contempt of the rebels, and reckless of unascertained danger, persisted in pushing forward, and dashed into the straits, while the cautious officer persisted that his small detachment could only serve to keep the gates of the mountain open, and cover their retreat. The grey of a winter's morning was just opening as the horsemen burst into the Pass, and on they pricked at full gallop, as it was his Lordship's desire to proceed onwards towards some villages situated on the lakes of Inchigeela, where he hoped to apprehend certain notorious characters, the leaders and promoters of the present insurrection. About half way in the Glen a scout of Captain Rock lay on a bed of fern, under a cliff, wrapped in that loose frize coat which Spencer, two hundred years ago, so graphically described as a fit house for an outlaw, and a meet bed for a rebel. This man started up from his lair, pike in hand, and joined the horsemen, supposing that they were some of the Boys, that

had returned from a marauding expedition. The poor creature, while huzzaing for Captain Rock, was cut down, and left there for dead, and the troop moved on through the Pass. But other scouts were more on the alert, and the leader of the insurgents was soon informed that there was a party of the military stationed at the western mouth of the Pass, and that a large body of horsemen was advancing through it. He who personated on this day the ubiquitarian Captain Rock, was not calculated to throw discredit on his "nom de guerre." He was not one to overlook or forego the advantages his enemy presented him with. He felt that his foes were within his grasp, for he stood secure that they must repass the defile and he counted on their capture as much as if he had them within the clenching of his fist. No one could tell who this young man was, his bearing, attire, accent, bespoke him much above the common sort, and as not a native of Cork. Be he whom he might, no one presumed to question his power-all seemed as on oath

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bound to obey, and with a blast of his bugle he summoned in his forces, and called to his side his Generals of Division, Lieutenants Pat Peep-o-Day, and Sylvester Starlight, and then in a speech, not so round and set as Livy or Tacitus would record,* but in an abrupt, joyous, presumptuous tone, fast and fiery, like a true Milesian Irishman, he announced that Pastorini was a right prophet, and the appointed hour was come to push a pike into the throat of every heretic, and parson, and proctor, and landjobber; and that this day the Virgin and all the powers had put the orangemen and red coats into their hands. Only, boys, look this once to your cause and your oaths-mind my bidding-be steady but for this morning, and the whole west country is your own; and I promise you all, boys, the tap of Lord By's cellar. Peep-o-Day, off with you westward-take sixty of the smartest boys in the whole mountain, and run

Neither do we venture to affirm that our sources of information concerning this transaction, are as true as the Gazette: the outline is believed to be correct.

round the red coats-watch them well-keep them at play as you would a ball on the hoop of your hurl-never come to close quarter-keep behind the rocks and turf-clamps-never fire till sure of your man. Run away as they advance-coax them, if you can, up into the hills-teaze them until you see they quit the Pass, and pursue you into the mountainamuse them as a plover would a spaniel, on a moor, and when we have houghed all the horsemen, I will come to you and hamstring all the soldiers.

Starlight, take you fifty of the stoutest on our roll; each man must carry a spade along with his gun or pike. Go to the Red Deer's Rock-that big stone which overhangs the Pass, and from which the Fairy Buck bounded and cleared the Glen, when Fin M'Coul hunted him for a summer's day, with his good dog Bran. The stone big as it is, is loose already; I almost shook it the other evening with my shoulder. Twenty men, in ten minutes, will undermine and leave it so, that at command you can kick it down like a

foot-ball. Off, Starlight, lose no time; dig away as if you were digging by night for dreamt-of gold. Work for the Virgin and St. Patrick, and when the rock is ready to rattle down, clap your Kerry cow's horn to your mouth, and blow me the old Whiteboy blast, and then wait quietly until you hear three distinct flourishes of my bugle, and then in the name of all the saints, down with the rock: it will plug up the pass, as this cork stops my dram bottle; and then, my brave boys, these Orange oppressors, these pityless men, who rode rough-shod over the country, are in our power. The foxes of Bantry and Glengariff are bagged-we who have been hunted and halloed at-our blood spilt like water-our necks broken on the gallows-our heads rolling on their scaffolds. We who have borne a century of suffering and shame; now, now our time is come; we have all the vermin of the country in our power-fox, and badger, marten, weasel, and pole-cat-come, boys, we shall