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 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 ClURR 
 
 Book 
 
 ?)^^ M^ 
 
 Volume 
 
 1 
 
 /f<

 
 THE 
 
 ^otjenturers; 
 
 OR, 
 
 SCENES IN IRELAND, 
 
 IN 
 
 THE REIGN OF ELIZABETH. 
 
 Men whom destiny 
 
 That hatli to instruraent this lower world 
 And what is in it — the ncvir surleiled sea 
 Hath rAUied to belcJi up on this island. 
 
 SUAK8PF.ARB'B Tempttt. 
 
 IX THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 LONDOX. 
 
 rRIKTED FOR 
 LONGMAN, HUHST, KKBS, OKMK, HKOWN, AND r.HKKN, 
 
 PATERNOrFKK-ROW. 
 
 1825. 
 
 uscoq
 
 
 Kd^ 
 
 LoVBO!* : 
 PrintwJ by A. A R Spottijwoodc, 
 Ncw-btTTCt.Squarp.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The following attempt to illustrate one 
 of the most eventful periods of Irish 
 history, by a delineation of ** Scenes in 
 Ireland in the Reign of Ehzabeth," \va> 
 made several years ago. 
 
 Some of these " Scenes" have been 
 sketched with great fidelity from n coids 
 of real transactions. It was hoj)ed that 
 it might be useful to make the public 
 acquainted, in this popular form, with 
 the character of those events which still 
 continue to afiect, in their consequences, 
 and in no small degree, the j)resent con- 
 dition of Ireland. The reasons why tiiey 
 were laid aside for so long a period, and 
 why they are now presented to the pub- 
 lic, are immaterial to state.
 
 IN PREFACE. 
 
 As the manuscript winl through the 
 press, a fewparagraj)hs ha\c been added, 
 and a great number have been blotted 
 out. If traces be still found ol' the 
 conunon dejects of Irish style, (which we 
 will not j)articidarize,) they have been 
 suflfeii'd to remain because of their an- 
 tiquity, being mere translations from an- 
 cient Irish manuscripts, of which free 
 use has been made ; and they might have 
 been necessary perha})s also to the con- 
 nexion of the story. The compiler, for 
 such lie may projx rly be called, is an- 
 swerable tor little more than the dis- 
 cretion or judgment he may have used 
 in expunging, comiecting, or arranging 
 his materials.
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Henry Bagnal was the younger son of a re- 
 spectable family in Kent. On the death of his 
 father he left the paternal mansion, to seek his 
 fortune, as the phrase was, in Ireland. He had 
 led an idle and rather irregular life, notwith- 
 standing that he had a deep sense of religion, 
 and was well instructed in all the contentious 
 tlieology of Elizabeth's reign. But the death of 
 his father reclaimed him from his wanderings. 
 He became suddenly serious and thoughtful. 
 To great boldness and decision of character he 
 added much caution and prudence; and whether 
 in his fits of devotion, or his moments of irre- 
 gularity, there was a harshness and loftiness in 
 his bearing, which was repulsive and unple;isant 
 to all but his intimate friends, who had learne<i 
 to excuse it. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 TlfK ADVENTURERS. 
 
 Like all (leciclcd characters, Henry Bogiiai 
 had not many friends, hut these were cordial 
 and attachcil. The eye of a strong character 
 is like the gaze of the rattle-snake, which scares 
 away the crowd of animals, l)iit fixes the few 
 within its direct influence by an irresistible 
 fascination, and like this monster also, some- 
 times only to destroy them. 
 
 Bagnal had one attachment which tended to 
 soften the rigid outline of his character. He 
 loved an only sister with great tenderness ; — 
 tile attachment was mutual. 
 
 diaries Marvel was Hagnal's most attaciied 
 friend. They had been school-fellows, and had 
 grown up together in unbroken intimacy and 
 near neighbourhood. Marvel, though not in- 
 capable of guiding himself, had been used from 
 his childhood to submit to the leading of Bag- 
 nal, and to acknowledge the ascendancy of his 
 bolder spirit. Notwithstanding this, he pos- 
 sessed, without appearing to know it, some con- 
 siderable advantages over liis sciiool-fellow. 
 He had a finer person, a more winning atldress, 
 principles more correct, and religious impres- 
 sions more steady and less tainted with fanati- 
 cism. To these were added a kind and generous 
 heart, in which craft or selfisliness never found
 
 THE ADVENTrilERS. S 
 
 a place. Marvel's only livinrr relatives were an 
 aged mother and a maiden aunt, 'i'liey were 
 the only respectable family that resided within 
 a reasonable distance of Bagnal's Close : and it 
 was generally reported that Marvel was tlie 
 favoured lover of Lucy Bagnal ; for how else 
 could the peasant gossips of the neighbourhood 
 have disposed of her, except to the only young 
 man of her own rank they knew, — the friend 
 of her brother, and a frequent visitor at the 
 Close. He was accordingly set down as a 
 lover, and as a favoured lover of the young 
 lady's. And it was true that he was a lover, as 
 the sagacity of the village matrons had divined; 
 but whether he was actually ^faixnired lover is 
 a secret wliich it would be yet premature to 
 disclose. 
 
 Marvel determined to accompany his friend 
 Bagnal in quest of fortune and fame in Ireland. 
 His patrimony, which had been injured by hii» 
 father's imprudence-, was too slender to permit 
 him to linger at home unen)ployed, and mucli 
 too slender to allow him to think of marriage, 
 though he might dream of love. Neither was 
 Marvel, notwithstanding the gentleness of his 
 character, wholly without ambition. But in this 
 case, whatever he might have of this {perilous 
 B 2
 
 4 TUn ADVENTURERS. 
 
 stufi' about him, was mingled with reveries of 
 married bhss and fdial alfection, and like steel 
 immersed in a solution of gokl cnme out en- 
 riched and soilenetl, at least to the eye. 
 
 To secure to his mother tlie comforts which 
 declining age required ; and to win the rank 
 and fortune which a generous passion would 
 confer u})on its object; these were the chief 
 aims of Marvel's ambition. He took leave of 
 Lucy Bagnal without any declaration of love. 
 The issue of his present adventure was doubtful; 
 and he was too honourable to seek to entangle 
 her in engagements, even if she were disposed 
 to enter into such, which an adverse fortune 
 might for ever defeat. The two friends joined 
 Coote's Regiment (then embodying at Lon- 
 don) as volunteers ; and soon found themselves 
 deeply engagetl in that desperate game of for- 
 tune and ambition; — an Irish war. 
 
 To the eye of our adventurers Ireland pre- 
 sented much such an appearance as it affords 
 at present to the English traveller, when he 
 compares it with his own CDuniiy. It was 
 greatly behind England in cultivation and im- 
 provement. They found the inhabitants living 
 mostly upon their flocks and lierds (which were 
 numerous), and dwelling in log-houses like the 
 back settlers of America at the present day.
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 5 
 
 The cities were large villages, built chiefly of 
 wood or shingles, roughly hewn ; — such for 
 the most pint was Dublin. The country was 
 divided into grass-lands and wood-lands : the 
 former affording pasture for the cattle, and the 
 latter a defence and natural fortress for the 
 inhabitants, or as they were styled by the 
 strangers, — " The Irish enemy." 
 
 The Irish chieftains resided generally in low, 
 but very large cottages, similar in every respect, 
 except dimensions, to those of their humblest 
 followers. Their style of living was also the 
 same, differing only in abundance, and occa- 
 sionally in the magnificence of rude but costly 
 vessels of gold or silver, and perhaps in armour 
 of foreign workmanship and splendour. Ireland 
 was at that period a pastoral country, and the 
 princes of the land lived, like Abraham, in the 
 midst of their people, as fathers ruling over 
 their families. The prince was not merely the 
 head of his principality, he was of kindred with 
 the whole community under his banner. They 
 were one family, and he was the chief man of 
 the chief branch of that family. The prince 
 kept open house for those of his tribe who 
 were indigent; and this extensive hospitiility, 
 which, according to the manners of the country, 
 B 3
 
 6 Tin: ADVENTURERS. 
 
 could not be dispensed with, kept liini ulways 
 poor. To live in rude abundance, to give to 
 all who asked, and to entertain all who came, 
 was the invariable rule of the chieluiin's man- 
 ion ; — a rule which took from him the enjoy- 
 ments of wealtli, and left him little more than a 
 trustee for his tribe. But with these disadvan- 
 ta<^es, it conferred despotic power and unlimited 
 sway over the minds and bodies of his followers. 
 About the time our strangers arrived in 
 Ireland, a change was beginning to txike place 
 in the habits and manners of the Irish chiefs. 
 Those bordering on the English p«/<.' had al- 
 ready erected castles to defend their frontier 
 from their formidable neighbour, and the chiefs 
 of the interior were following the example tlius 
 set them. These castles were little more than 
 large square towers, and were proof against 
 musketry only ; cannon being as yet little known 
 in the wars of Ireland. But lliough provided 
 with these casdes, the chiefs, for the most part, 
 lived in their cottages in the woods or in the 
 fields, and used those only in time of war. 
 They affected to despise, and they did really 
 despise, the luxury, and tiie trouble and con- 
 finement of the English mode of living; which, 
 like the English dress, appeared to them to be
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 7 
 
 full of restraint and inconvenience, and equally 
 remote from ease, elegance, or nature. Many 
 o{ the Irish chiefs, who had lived for a time 
 with the English lords and lord deputies in 
 Dublin in all the luxury and refinement of 
 Elizabeth's age, broke away from it with im- 
 patience; and there are upon record strong, but 
 too coarse expressions of the satisfaction they 
 enjoyed upon returning to their native wood- 
 lands. 
 
 The face of Ireland, in the beginning of 
 Elizabeth's reign was more beautiful than at 
 present. The now naked hills were crowned 
 with oak, and the highest mountains were 
 wrapped in a glorious vesture of forest-trees. 
 The inhabitants of these sylvan scenes lived 
 in ease and abundance, except when the voice 
 of war, which had not now been silent for cen- 
 turies, called them to make incursions upon the 
 pale, or upon their Irish neighbours, or to 
 resist such a warfare when directed upon them- 
 selves. 
 
 Bagnal and Marvel were delighted with the 
 appearance of the country; but the former 
 considered the people as absolute savages — 
 their dress, their language, and customs all 
 struck him as strange and barbarous: and 
 B 4-
 
 8 TIIK ADVENTURERS. 
 
 their religion, he had ever considered as an 
 abomination not to be endured. Marvel's 
 milder nature made him view these peculiari- 
 ties with more indulgence. Assisted by the 
 gentleness of his character, his views became 
 more libend and enlightened, and he could 
 discern the advantages as well as the disad- 
 vantages of what was strange to him. \\ ith 
 respect to religion, he was tolerant, for some near 
 connections of his own were of the proscribed 
 faith of the church of Rome, and he had 
 learned the justice of allowing to others the 
 liberty he claimed for liimself. Those dif- 
 ferences in feeling and opinion led to fre- 
 quent discussion between the friends, upon the 
 character of the people with whom they were 
 now associated either as enemies or allies. 
 Marvel, while he admitted generally, the 
 fickleness and fierceness of the people, pleaded 
 in extenuation, those wars of four centuries 
 which had exerted so pernicious an influence 
 upon the national mind. But he argued in 
 vain against the deep, though suddenly con- 
 ceived prejudices of Bagnal. The latter found 
 an unexpected support in these discussions in 
 an oflicer of their regiment, himself an Irishman 
 of no mean birth. Hugh O'Neil joined
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 9 
 
 Bagnal in niantainiiig the intractable and per- 
 verse character of the Irish and would admit 
 in a very small degree the excul[)atory reason- 
 ings of Marvel, though he never forgot to 
 thank him for his good opinion of his nation. 
 
 O'Neil had served for a considerable time in 
 the Queen's army, and had gained great aj)- 
 plause for his courage and conduct. He had 
 lately joined Coote's regiment ; and appeared 
 desirous of cultivating an intimacy with Bagnal 
 and Marvel, and particularly the former. It 
 was said of O'Neil, that whether in public or 
 private, in the field or the cabinet, he was 
 never at a loss ; his resources were unfailing, 
 and his address unrivalled. His conversation 
 was fascinating and his attentions irresistible. 
 But Bagnal's fixed prejudices against his race 
 served as a charm to protect him from the 
 power of his talents ; and made him see, or 
 think he saw, something false even in the 
 candour and specious professions of O'Neil. 
 He could not deny him courage and abilities ; 
 but this made him distrust him the more; and 
 when he allowed the justice of his invectives 
 against his own countrymen, he admitted they 
 were ingenuous, or specious — at all events thev 
 v\ere true. 
 
 B 5
 
 10 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 The country had been tolerably tranquil for 
 some time after the arrival of Bngnal and 
 Marvel in Ireland ; but various rumours were 
 now afloat of commotions in the north and 
 west. These wore chiefly occasioned by the 
 severity of the Lord Deputy Kussel, who, upon 
 frivolous pretences, had dispossessed various 
 chieftains of their territories ; and was guilty 
 of many acts of grievous oppression. In con- 
 sequence of this, some of the western chiefs had 
 taken up arms and resolved to stand upon their 
 defence. The principal of these was the 
 M'Guire, whose territory comprised a great 
 part of Lestrim and Fermanagh, and who jx)s- 
 sessed a castle of considerable strength upon the 
 sea shore, where it was said his chief officers 
 and gal low-glasses were assembled. The division 
 of the army to which Bagnal and Marvel were 
 attached lay encamped in the vicinity of Dublin, 
 where they received orders to proceed without 
 delay against M*Guire's castle, and strike at 
 the insurrection in its source. On their march 
 they were joined by the Lord Deputy himself. 
 This small army arrived without opj)osition 
 before the castle, but found its position and 
 defences more formidable than even re})ort had 
 stated.
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 11 
 
 The Lord Deputy summoned the castle in 
 due form, and the governor returned for answer 
 " that he would not surrender his castle to the 
 Saxon, if his whole army were composed of 
 lord deputies." This spirited reply was fol- 
 lowed by as gallant a defence ; and all the 
 forms and technicalities of a siege were gone 
 through in vain. Wearied with the obstinacy 
 of the besieged, the Lord Deputy offered to 
 confer the then highly esteemed honour of 
 knighthood upon the first officer who should 
 enter the castle and carry it. 
 
 The castle of Carrickrohan stood upon a 
 'rocky eminence, at one extremity of an ex- 
 tensive marsh, or level swampy plain, inter- 
 sected by deep holes, and occasionally by 
 projecting pieces of low, sharp, craggy rocks. 
 This wet moor spread around three sides ot" 
 the castle, and made it perfectly inaccessible 
 upon these points. The besiegers first at- 
 tempted to cut a road through the bog. It 
 was thought that by cutting away the turf, and 
 coming to the hard stony bottom usually found 
 under turf bogs, they could have made their 
 way to the walls : but as they proceeded with 
 their works, the road filled with water, and their 
 drains were found quite inadequate to carry it 
 B (J
 
 12 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 off. This nttempt was finally abandoned after 
 much labour and loss of men. It remained to 
 try the castle on the water side. On this side 
 the t'orlress stood, or hun^ over the sea, upon a 
 rock which had been perpendicular ; but the 
 continual action of the liirious element had 
 detached great masses from the base of the 
 cliff, so that the rock upon which the castle 
 stood projected considerably over the water. 
 
 At the foot of the cliff, a short distance from 
 the castle to the right, was a little strand at low 
 water, from which a narrow winding way led 
 up the rocks, sometimes receding from the 
 castle, and sometimes approaching it, and fi- 
 nally, as it seemed, gaining the summit of the 
 hill. But this wild path was intersected by va- 
 rious chasms of appalling dimensions, which it 
 was necessary to leaj) with a sure foot, and a 
 steady eye, and to finil the centre of gravity of 
 the opposite crag. ISome of these great knobs 
 of rock seemed to rest loosely in beds of clay, 
 and to be ready to descend into the roaring 
 surge, if the foot of the unhappy adventurer 
 should press upon a point not well su})ported. 
 The guns of the castle commanded this dan- 
 gerous and solitary approach, except at certain 
 points, where it was protected by projecting
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. IS 
 
 masses of rock, as it descended into the hollows 
 of the cliff. 
 
 The Lord Deputy commanded the sea ; havin^^ 
 a sloop of war and some boats at his disposal. 
 On board these, some chosen men of the army 
 were embarked, amon^^st whom were Bagnal, 
 Marvel, and O'Neil, the first and la§t of whom 
 ranked high in the Lord Deputy's estimation. 
 Bagnal was accompanied by some Kentishmen, 
 who had followed him to the Irish wars, and 
 upon whose courage and steadiness he placed 
 the firmest reliance. O'Neil was attended by 
 two of his fosterers. After much discussion on 
 board, and surveying the coast attentively, it 
 was determined to attempt the winding path up 
 the rock on the first moonlight night. In the 
 day, it was considered that the party would be 
 too much exposed to the fire of the castle, and 
 in total darkness the attempt could not be made. 
 No guide could be procured. 
 
 After some days and nights of tedious ex- 
 pectation, the moon put forth her horns dimly, 
 and it was resolved to wait no longer. It was 
 a calm and lovely night when the attempt was 
 made. The moon was young, but her light was 
 cloudless. The air was still, and a soft ripple 
 only was upon the waters. Strife and discord
 
 14 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 were confined to luunaii bosoms. It was now 
 a (jiiestion who slioiikl lead tliis venturous en- 
 terprise. Tlie Lord Deputy named O'Neil, 
 giving liiin at the same time a right to nominate 
 a substitute if he should think j)r()pLr. To the 
 great surprise of every one, and the dehght of 
 the nominee, O'Neil ajipointed Bagnal to the 
 post of honor. No objection was made by the 
 Deputy ; and all the officers complimented 
 0*Neil on this singular instance of friendship 
 and disinterestedness, for his courage was too 
 well established to permit a suspicion to rest 
 upon it. Bagnal himself was the last to make 
 his acknowledgements, and they were awkwardly 
 made, for he was overpowered by this generosity 
 in a man whom he disliked and suspected. But 
 it opened to him a prize of too much value to 
 be declined, and as he expressed his obligations 
 he grew warm and forgot his suspicions. Mar- 
 vel's admiration of O'Neil's conduct was un- 
 minMed and sincere. 
 
 Three boats — two large, and one small 
 fishing smack, which liad been forcibly taken 
 from the owners, were em})loyed to land the 
 bold adventurers in this daring enterprise. All 
 was silence — the oars touched die still waters 
 cautiously dreading to waken any sound — the
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 15 
 
 boats were now in motion. The voice of the 
 centinel was heard on the castle-top crying the 
 watcli ; but he gave no ahuni, — as he spoke, 
 however, tlie rowers paused in breathless 
 anxiety, — but he walked on, and they resumed 
 their course. In a few minutes they reached 
 the little strand at the foot of the castle, and 
 again they paused and listened, — but there 
 was no sound, except the distant voices of the 
 peasants' dogs in a remote hamlet, heard faintly 
 in the stillness of the night. The party landed. 
 Three times the boats brought their brave 
 crews to shore. The strand was still wet with 
 the receding wave, and part of this little body 
 were obliged to be formed in the water. The 
 whole operation had been conducted with the 
 utmost precision and success, and the castle 
 seemed to slumber in the most profound se- 
 curity, unconscious of the storm of war which 
 was gathering round it. A low whistle now 
 gave the signal to advance, and the head of the 
 little column began to clamber the rude path 
 up the rock. 
 
 The cohnnn advanced by single files and very 
 slowly. After an hour's toilsome march they 
 had entered one of those hollow ways, or great 
 cavities in the clilf through which the path
 
 16 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 wound, and the leadtrs were again preparing 
 to asct'iul a steep precipice, when a niultitiule of 
 sea birds, startled by the rustling nt)ise ap- 
 ))roacliing theni, broke suddenly from their nests 
 with loud screaming and clapping of wings. 
 The column halted. The cliff which overhung 
 their present position obstructed the light of the 
 moon, and they were in utter darkness. The 
 noise of the birds had somewhat disconcerted 
 the party. But the leader, a bold Kentish man, 
 recovered himself soon and prepared to ad- 
 vance. His first movement was an unlucky 
 one, for having planted his foot upon a loose 
 fragment (if rock, it gave way and rolled down 
 the MY, while he was precipitated headlong 
 into a deep hollow concealed by ferns and furze. 
 This second disaster was followed by a half sup- 
 pressed and involuntary laugh, heard close, to 
 the head of the column. There was a pause of 
 amazement; and again the laugh was renewed 
 and became general, spreading wide over the 
 hill, as if the Elfin Emperor lield his court there 
 that night, and every bramble and buttercup 
 were vocal with the ecstacy of mischief But 
 while some were dreaming of fairies and goblins 
 of the moonlight, and the officers stood i'or an 
 instant irresolute, a close and well directed fire
 
 THE ADVENTUKEIIS. 17 
 
 was }ioiired upon the column, and the wounded 
 men fell from the cliiJ', or dro|)i)ed from crag to 
 crag, scrambling and grasping with a feeble and 
 inellectual hold, every treacherous stone and 
 faithless weed in their way. 
 
 Bagnal now gave command in a loud voice, 
 *' to advance." But his leaders were shot 
 the moment they attempted to obey. To re- 
 main where they were Mas certiiin destruction, 
 for they could not grapple with their foe ; to 
 retire was all that was left. But here again they 
 were opposed ; — the enemy was in their rear. 
 After a short and desperate conflict in the dark, 
 they reached the strand ; and here too their 
 relentless foe was stationed, and the combat was 
 to be renewed. But Bagnal's party fought for 
 their lives, and were victorious , their boats, 
 which had stood out from shore on the ap- 
 pearance of the Irish, came to their relief, and 
 bore the survivors of this unlucky expedition to 
 the sloop of war. In their way to the vessel, 
 the moonlight which they would now have dis- 
 pensed with pointed them out to the view of 
 the castle, but they escaped its fire, though se- 
 veral shot fell close along side. 
 
 On mustering his men in the morning, Bag- 
 Jial found that many more were missing than
 
 18 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 he liacl supposed possible. Among these was 
 O'Ncil, to wliose courage and activity all admit- 
 ted they were indebted for making good their 
 retreat. lie had been seen mingling with the 
 ^ncmy in the short and deadly conflict on the 
 strand, previous to the embarkation. It was 
 conjectured that he must have been wounded 
 and made prisoner ; and it was proposed to 
 send a flag of truce, without delay, to inquire 
 for him and propose a ransom, and, at the same 
 time, to look after the dead and wounded. 
 This was done, butO'Neil was not to be found, 
 either among the dead or the wounded. 
 
 There was the utmost anxiety for his fate, — 
 mixed with some suspicions, in the minds of a 
 few, that he had gone over to his countrymen. 
 Others thought that he must have been made 
 prisoner, and that the Governor, notwithstand- 
 ing the courtesy with which he treated the flag 
 of truce, held O'Neil in liis dungeons ; feeling, 
 perhaps, a deeper hostility towards him as being 
 in arms against his own countrymen, and what 
 was considered the cause of his country. Or, 
 probably, he might be detained with a view to 
 work upon his mind, and, by bringing the ancient 
 splendours of his house and race before him, to 
 excite his ambition, and win him from bis alle-
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 19 
 
 jriance. Every officer indulged his own conjec- 
 tures on this strange disappearance, and, not- 
 withstanding CNeil's long and heroic loyalt}-, 
 suspicions were beginning to creep over the 
 most generous minds, especially when it was 
 perceived that Bagnal, who spoke little on the 
 subject, was fully persuaded that O'Neil had 
 betrayed them. So difficult is it to convince 
 the world of our sincerity where our interests 
 and our duties are understood to point out an- 
 other line of conduct than that we tread. O'Neil 
 was a British officer, but he was in arms against 
 his kindred and his country, and the men who 
 fought by his side and admired his talents and 
 his soldiership, felt that these ought, perhaps, to 
 have been employed against them ; and that if 
 he were in the opposite ranks they could have 
 pardoned him. Out of this feeling arose the 
 constant distrust and suspicion to which he was 
 exposed; and which hardly all his address and 
 ability sufficed to destroy. He could not com- 
 bat always with success the general feeling of 
 mankind, so well expressed by a man of as great 
 talents, and more direct views and unmingled 
 purposes, that " the first duty of a man is to 
 stand by his country, and the second duty of a 
 man is to stand by his country, and the third
 
 20 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 duly of a man is to stand by liLs country." In 
 Elizabeth's reign the Irish and British, wliich 
 now Ibrm one people, were distinct nations, and 
 hostile ones.
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 In the midst of these injurious surmises Mar- 
 vel's generous mind admitted no suspicion of 
 O' Neil's faith. We view the world throujrh the 
 medium of our own sensations. Bajrnal took 
 his instinctive knowledge of the double-mind- 
 edness of others from a lurking sympathy at the 
 bottom of his own heart. Kindred qualities 
 discern each other by some mysterious commu- 
 nion ; while the good or evil which we are 
 unable to feel or appreciate will ever refuse to 
 reveal itself to our utmost scrutiny. Marvel 
 reasoned upon the case of O'Neil, and concluded 
 tliat he was wronged by suspicion, because 
 stratagem and contrivance were foreign from his 
 nature. Bagnal did not reason, but he felt 
 that there was a mystery about the Irishman, 
 and he interpreted that mystery to his disad- 
 vantage. After the flag of truce had returned, 
 a council was called on board the sloop of war 
 to determine what was now to be done. It was 
 a council of perplexity, and after much warm
 
 22 Tin: adventuiikrs. 
 
 (iiscussion nothing was (leterininccl. Tlie dis- 
 a})pcarancc of O'Xcil was Imrdly adverted to, 
 though it was evidently uppermost in the minds 
 of all. The few dark hints which were thrown 
 out shewed the progress which suspicion had 
 made, and Marvel considered it fruitless to 
 combat an im{)ression which seemed to have 
 taken such deep root. As the council broke up 
 he pointed to a small boat, having two men on 
 board, which was standing towards the sloop ; 
 at the same instant the orderly-man at the 
 cabin-door entered to give the same intelligence. 
 It was a small fishing-smack, having a sail, and 
 had come round a projecting point of rock 
 which concealed a little harbour sufficient to 
 hold half-a-dozen boats in deep water, and shel- 
 tered from the west wind, and from the guns of 
 the castle. The boat, as it approached the 
 sloop, made a considerable circuit, as if to avoid 
 the neighbourhood of Carrickrohan. One of 
 the men on board managed the boat, the 
 other sat at the helm and steered it. Both 
 were wrapped in the large blue frize coats of 
 the country, and showed much skill and sea- 
 manshi|) as they tacked and combated the wind 
 which blew on shore. In a few minutes the 
 somcwliat doubtful manoeuvres of the boat had
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 2S 
 
 not only fixed the attention of every person on 
 board the sloop, but of the garrison of the castle 
 also. The battlements were crowded, and heads 
 appeared at e\ery window and embraziirc. At 
 length a Ion*? tack broui'ht the boat aloncr-side 
 the sloop, and the two men soon made her fast 
 and sprung on deck. It was O'Neil himself 
 and a stranger. 
 
 O'Neil was received with a shout of joy bv 
 the soldiers and sailors on board, and he re- 
 turned these hearty greetings with a corre- 
 sponding cordialit}', and with the grace and 
 winning address for which he was remarkable. 
 "When he had disengaged himself from the 
 crowd which pressed around him, and had paid 
 his respects to the Lord Deputy, and saluted 
 his brother officers, he learned that a council 
 had just been sitting to determine the ulteriour 
 measures to be adopted by the besieging arm v. 
 lie begged that the council might be resumed, 
 as he had somewhat to offer upon the subject. 
 This proposal was acceded to, and when the 
 officers were again assembled and the cabin 
 door closed; O'Neil, adchcssing himself to the 
 Lord Deputy, stated, that his disappearance 
 after the disaster on the cliff and the strand, 
 was not accidental, but voluntary : but he hoped
 
 21 Tin: ADVENTURERS. 
 
 the result wouUl be favourable to the arduous 
 enterprize in which tliey were engaged, and 
 which it was now more necessary than ever to 
 bring to a speedy conclusion. The length and 
 difficulty of the siege, he said, had aJreatly pro- 
 duced an unhappy eiVect. 'I'he chieftains of 
 the North were busily engaged in military pre- 
 parations, and it was likely O'Donnel of the 
 Red Branch would soon take the field, and liis 
 first movement would be to tlie relief of tlie 
 castle. It was also reported that their oper- 
 ations by sea would be s})eedily interrupted by 
 a squadron iVoni Spain. If the protraction of 
 the siege Iiad produced so much mischief, t(J 
 raise the siege woiikl occasion still more. It 
 would j)roduce a general rising throughout the 
 North and West, and endanger the very exist- 
 ence of the British power in Ireland. Here 
 the speaker pausetl, and the Loid Deputy 
 invited him to state what plan of oj)erations he 
 meant to propose. " Before I propose my 
 plan," said O'Neil " I must acquaint the council 
 with a few })articulars. I'hose gentlemen who 
 were of our pleasant party u}) the hill on Mon- 
 day evening, will recollect that our tran(|uillity 
 was first distinbed by a laugh which, the un- 
 lucky adventure of our leader occasioned. I
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 25 
 
 thought I knew that lau<;l), and when it was 
 repeated 1 was ahuost certain. In the smart 
 stnifjgle wliich followed, I tried to ascertain the 
 truth of my conjectures ; they were well founded. 
 After we had succeeded in breaking througii 
 the party which opposed our embarkation, I 
 returned and crept up the rock, and as I went 
 I whispered the watch-word of ' The O'NeiP in 
 the ear of the man whom I had recognised. It 
 was the word used only by the chiefs, and was 
 answered. The man followed me. When I 
 had gained a secure recess in the rocks, 1 
 whistled in a low note the march of Shane 
 O'Xcil, to indicate my position, and was soon 
 joined by the light-hearted Callaghan, the son 
 of my father's servant, and the companion of 
 my childhood. He had escaped with difliculty 
 some years ago from the pursuit of my uncle, 
 whom his fidelity to my father had offended, and 
 had entered into the service of the M*Guire. 
 
 " My conference with Callaghan was long 
 before I could persuade him to concur in my 
 plan, of assisting us to obtain possession of the 
 castle ; but at length he was persuaded that 
 the superior obligations which he owed to the 
 O'Neii, and v/hich no other service or duty 
 could weaken, amounted even to what I recjuired 
 
 VOL. J. c
 
 26 THE ADVENTLUEKS. 
 
 of him. Under this impression he has con- 
 sented, though with great rehictance, to admit 
 us into the castle, but has peremptorily refused 
 any reward for this service. " Poor Callaghan 
 and his conscience," continued O'Neil, ** can 
 hardly understand one another. He must 
 o])ey his chief, he says, let the consequence be 
 what it may ; but he will not touch the prict- 
 of blood. He is returned to the castle, and 1 
 obtained with dilFiculty a fisherman's boat to 
 bring me here." 
 
 All were now impatient to learn how O'Neil's 
 follower was to gain them admission to the 
 castle. O'Neil resumed. " There was but one 
 way by which it could be effected, and that 
 was full of more than ordinary peril. Still he 
 trusted that men could be found who would 
 adventure even this bold exploit. Callaghan 
 calculated that he should be upon guard in the 
 upper chamber of the castle about midnight 
 on to-morrow night ; from this chamber a win- 
 dow opened upon the water, and Callaghan is 
 provided with a ladder of ropes from the fisher- 
 man's cot, which will be let down, and those 
 who will dare the undertaking may ascend ; 
 and we v>ill need but stout hearts to surprise 
 the castle and nwke it our own."
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 27 
 
 Tile I^ord Deputy rose as O'Neil concluded, 
 to return thanks for this important service; 
 " the most important," he stated, " that had 
 been rendered to the Queen by any of her 
 subjects for many years in Ireland. Whether 
 the enterprise succeeded or not, their thanks 
 were alike due; but he entertained no doubt of 
 its success, knowing that men could be found 
 in this army who would attempt whatever man 
 could do. He was confident that it would not 
 be long before her Majesty the Queen would 
 testify to the noble O'Neil her sense of this im- 
 portant service in a more substantial manner 
 than any words of his. In the mean time it 
 was but justice to the bold contriver to offer 
 him the leading of his own enterprize." 
 
 O'Neil made his acknowledgments for these 
 gracious expressions, and again declined the 
 leading of the enterprize in favour of Bagnal, 
 who had, he said, a just claim to it, in conse- 
 quence of the disasters of the late attempt ; he 
 would, however, be of the party, and the last 
 upon the ladder, as it would be necessary to 
 guard against panic or retreat. Bagnal was 
 now again oppressed with O'Neil's generosity, 
 and a sense of his own suspicions so latelv en- 
 tertained. He would have declined accepting 
 c 2
 
 28 Tlir. ADVKNTUUERS. 
 
 this favour at the hands of a man whom he was 
 confident of havuig injured, if he coukl have 
 done it with any fair pretence. Even the 
 kniMilhoud for which he si<xhed lost its attrac- 
 tions at this moment, and all the whisperings of 
 ambition failed to relieve him : so bitter is the 
 cup of kindness when presented by a hand we 
 have injured. Bagnal felt the full torment of 
 this cup, but he dared not decline it, lest his 
 refusal should be attributed to want of heart 
 for the exploit, and he might be represented 
 as sickened of sucli attempts by the rough 
 treatment he encountered so lately. O'Neil 
 could not repress a smile at the confusion and 
 embarrassment with which he made his acknow- 
 ledgments for this new courtesy ; that smile 
 was observed by Bagnal, and sunk deep into 
 his heart as a mortal injury. • That smile, he 
 thought, resembled the lightning, whose flash 
 reveals in an instant the form and depth of the 
 darkness in which it had its birth. The whole 
 purpose of O'Neil he now again thought was 
 iipparent in this momentary symptom of his 
 triumph. Their late attempt had been coun- 
 terworked ; instead of proceeding to a trium- 
 phant attack they had fallen into an ambuscade ; 
 tiiis new plot, perhaps, would end in a similar
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. ?9 
 
 manner. While Bagnal revolved these ideas 
 in his mind, his confusion and anxiety increased, 
 and the eyes of all his brother officers were 
 turned upon him. He roused himself at length, 
 and asked O'Neil if he was certain he could 
 rely upon his associate in the castle. " I will 
 answer for his fidelity with my head," said 
 O'Neil ; " depend upon it he will not fail us." 
 
 Bagnal now assumed an air of alacrity, and 
 proceeded to make his arrangements for the 
 attack. There was something in the nature of 
 his newly-conceived suspicions which prevented 
 him from imparting them to any one. He felt 
 that in this case he could command no sym- 
 pathy ; but this feeling, which ought to have 
 convinced him of the unreasonableness of his 
 surmises, served but to fix them more strongly 
 in his bosom. He shut them up in his heart 
 as treasures which his own skill and fortune 
 had discovered, and which were but the more 
 precious as they were the less regarded by 
 others. But come what may, he was determined 
 not to shrink from the enterprize. 
 
 The next night was waited for impatiently 
 
 by the whole detachment. The day had been 
 
 stormy, and the sloop was compelled to stand 
 
 out to sea ; but towards evening the wind fell, 
 
 c 3
 
 30 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 and she resumed her former station. The moon 
 aJso hid her countenance, as if intending to 
 favour the cnterprize. The surface of the 
 water was still rough with the breeze of the 
 morning, when the sloop (every light below 
 the hatches) stood in under the casde walls. 
 The long boat was manned with the bravest 
 spirits of the army, including Bagnal and 
 O'Neil; and they proceeded close in shore, 
 observing the most perfect silence, to wait the 
 midnight watch. It was very dark, and now 
 and then a rough puff of wind showed that the 
 weather was not settled. The surge dashed 
 violently against the rocks under the castle, and 
 the boat kept its position with difficulty. All 
 on board were wet to the skin. At lengtli the 
 midnight watch was sounded in the castle, and 
 as the last notes of the trumpet died away in 
 melancholy cadences, every heart beat witli 
 emoUons of anxiety, somewhat akin to appre- 
 hension or terror. It was that feeling which 
 the stoutest heart experiences when on the eve 
 of some perilous adventure ; the thrill of na- 
 ture when about to encounter fate. 
 
 All again was silence; and every eye was 
 directed to the window whence the expected 
 ladder was to descend : but in the diick darkness
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 31 
 
 nothing was visible. After another short period 
 of expectatioji and anxiety a faint light in the 
 castle window was discerned, and in a litde while 
 something was plainly seen descending. In a few 
 minutes the ladder waved over their heads, 
 and was seized by O'Neil and made fast in the 
 boat. He now tried its strength by ascend- 
 ing some steps, and then descended to give pre- 
 cedence to the leader of the enterprise. Bagnal, 
 after a short conference, ordered two of his 
 best soldiers to ascend the ladder; diese he 
 followed himself, and after him went four men, 
 with O'Xeil bringing up the rear. They 
 ascended very slowly. 
 
 They were about half way up, or near it, 
 when the moon, which had not yet appeared, 
 made her way through the clouds, as if to look 
 at til is strange experiment. The ladder did 
 not hang immediately from the window, but 
 was projected by some means, so as to hang at 
 a litde distance from the castle wall. The light 
 of the moon, as it now shone brighdy, showed 
 the adventurers all the terrors of d»eir situa- 
 tion. The space above them, which was yet to 
 be ascended, appeared of appalling height, and 
 the pendulous ladder swung fearfully. But the 
 party continued undauntedly to ascend, until 
 c 4
 
 32 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 the splash of oars told ihcni that the boat had 
 let loose the ladder, and on looking down they 
 beheld it, in fact, in the moonlight, moving awajf 
 towards the sloop. This, which they did not 
 expect till they had gained the window, struck 
 them as something awful and terrible. Above 
 them was the enemy, and beneath was the 
 roaring element. While these thoughts passed 
 in the men*s minds, the wind rose and swept 
 round the castle in fitful gusts, accompanied 
 with showers of rain, which lashed the castle 
 walls as if in anger; while the sea answered to 
 the voice of the storm as to a master-spirit 
 which it was bound to obey. It was now a 
 niffht which might shake a firm heart even in 
 an ordinary situation. The men halted. The 
 terrors of their position had benumbed their 
 hearts. Bagnal strove to encourage his leaders, 
 but they would not move. Panic had gained 
 full possession of them. 
 
 After a short pause, O'Neil urged the danger 
 of further delay, and Bagnal renewed his com- 
 mands , and entreaties to proceed. But the 
 men had become refractory and furious in their 
 fright, and, under the influence of that inexpli- 
 cable effect of terror which leads men to rush 
 upon certain destruction in their eflforts to
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 33 
 
 escape from doubtful danger, they threaten td 
 to cut tlic rope upon which they were all 
 suspended, and to suffer the whole party tv 
 drop into the sea. Dissension and defiance ot 
 authority added to the horrors of their j^itu- 
 ation. While they hung thus upon the rope, 
 tlie storm increased and flung them about 
 as a feather ; and the lightning, which now 
 mingled in the blast, and sometimes spread 
 round the castle a vesture of fire, brought with 
 it a new danger, — that of discovery. 
 
 The men were still intiactablc, and Bag- 
 nal appeared to be in despair ; when O'Neil, 
 desiring the man before him to stand fast, 
 clambered over his shoulders and passed him. 
 Having achieved this with success he tried the 
 second, and the third, and finally passing over 
 the heads of the whole party, he found himself 
 foremost on the ladder ; and ascending rapidly, 
 soon gained the castle window. In an instant, 
 as if by magic, the terror of the soldiers passed 
 away, and they all followed their inticpid 
 leader. A few minutes more j)laced them in 
 safety in the chamber where Callaghan waited 
 their arrival. 
 
 This was no sooner effected than the storm 
 appeared to subside, and with the returning 
 c 5
 
 34 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 calm came albo the long boat of the sloop ami a 
 secoiul band of atl venturers. These ascended 
 with ease ; and before morning light the 
 chamber was full of armed men. \\'lien all 
 was prepared, Bagnal put himself at the head 
 of his bravest followers, and proceeding (|uietly 
 through the passages which led to the top 
 of the lower, disarmed and secured the sentinels 
 as he passed. This was effected without dif- 
 ficulty; but on the summit of the castle they 
 found a considerable guard, which was not 
 reduced without a smart conflict. The alarm 
 was now given throughout the fortress ; and the 
 governor, at the head of his gallow-glasses, 
 forcing his way through the guards which 
 Bamial had left in his rear, soon arrived on the 
 open jilatform to renew the combat. It was 
 long and desperate ; for the space was narrow, 
 and the combatants fought for life or death. 
 Their fu-e-arms were soon laid aside, as too 
 cumbrous and unwieldy for the narrow space 
 they occupied, and the struggle became a close 
 and deadly conflict with the short sword ; and as 
 the wounded and the dying impeded the fearful 
 workings of rage and despair, they were hurled 
 over the low parapet into the sea. The superior 
 strength of some of the Irish gave them, here,
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 3$ 
 
 an advantage. They found it easier to rid tliem- 
 selves of their enemy, Hving or dead, by this 
 rapid process, than by the slower agency of 
 the sabre. 
 
 The sun rose brightly upon a calm morning, 
 while yet the conflict raged on this confined 
 and airy elevation. The sloop had approached 
 die castle, and no gun was fired at her, so in- 
 tense was the interest of the combat within the 
 walls. Those on board could see distinctly 
 the progress of the fight, and the passions of 
 tlie crew mingled with the distant fray. While 
 their eyes were fixed on the castle top, they 
 ran from end to end of the deck, jostling 
 each other, and striking in their sym}Kithetic 
 fury tlie insensible impediments in their way. 
 An Irishman of immense stature had been seen 
 to grasp a number of the English, one after the 
 other, with apparent ease, and hurl them over 
 the battlements. He did not wait to wound 
 theni, but he swung his victims, as if they were 
 litde children in his grasp, into the greedy billow. 
 He was himself covered with gore, for in this 
 operation he received many wounds, which he 
 did not lose time to return. At length he 
 was surrounded and at bay : — he was attacked 
 c 6
 
 SCy Tin: ADVENTURERS. 
 
 by three or four nctin«( to^rether whom he could 
 not separate, though lie made several eilbrts to 
 shake one free from the grasp of the others, 
 and while thus employed a pistol-siiot brought 
 him on liis knees. But he rose again, and 
 sweeping his antagonists with an irresistible 
 arm into an angle of the low parapet which 
 hung over the sea, and applying his shoulder 
 to the wall, shook it violently. A second 
 attempt made the massive battlement reel; and 
 a third sent it headlong into the roaring surge, 
 followed by all the combatants. — The wave 
 closed over their enmities, and the Saxon and 
 the Gael slept together in peace beneath the 
 waters. 
 
 This catastrophe made a pause in the combat 
 for a momeiil. The contending parties gazed 
 on each other doubtfully ; and when the con- 
 flict was renewed both parties seemed tacitly 
 to acquiesce in avoiding the gap which yawned 
 over the gulf. 
 
 Finally, Bagnal was victorious; and tlic gar- 
 rison were driven below; but they disputed every 
 step, and renewed the combat on every landing- 
 place. The last struggle took jilace in the 
 lower chan)l)ei- of the castle: there the governor 
 had made preparations for an effort of dcsper-
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 37 
 
 at ion. It was a large square apartment, partly 
 under ground, almost dark, and filled with lum- 
 ber of all kinds ; stores, provisions, arms, 
 powder. Of tliis last there were a number of 
 barrels, standing: close tocrether on their ends. 
 Near, and inside the door, a kind of defence had 
 been made of the various lumber of the place, 
 behind which a party of the garrison were 
 ranged, standing coolly to their arms : they suf- 
 fered the fugitives which the victorious party 
 drove before them to pass to the rear, and poured 
 a steady volley on their pursuers. These fell 
 back and returned the fire. Bngnal's fortune 
 again prevailed. Torches vvere now lighted, 
 and as the smoke cleared away, and the noise of 
 the combat sank, the vaults of the castle pre- 
 sented a ghastly appearance. A few only of 
 Bagnal's men stood to their arms, and none of 
 the garrison. The governor lay reclineil and 
 bleeding in the arms of his officers, who knelt 
 around him. When lie and the little party 
 around him could be discerned, the fusees of 
 the Saxons were levelled at them. But O'Neil 
 interposed, and struck them up with his sabre. 
 " It does not matter now, O'Neil," said the go- 
 vemor, " you trium})h over your country. 
 But triumphs like these go not unavenged.
 
 38 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 and seizing at the instant a lighted torch from 
 a soldier near hini, he threw it blazing towards 
 an open barrel of gunpowder. But O'Neil 
 perceived his intent, and intercepted the fatal 
 torch in its flight. " You have the fortune of 
 your family, O'Neil," said the dying man. 
 
 O'Neil did not utter a word, but gazed 
 anxiously for a while upon the fine and pallid 
 countenance of the intrepid Mac Mahon, whom 
 he held in his arms, and then laid him gently 
 a lifeless corpse upon the floor. The sur- 
 vivors of the garrison were but a few wounded 
 men, and these were conducted to the British 
 camp. O'Neil saw that the governor wns 
 buried with military honors; and on the fol- 
 lowing morning the castle was dismantled and 
 blown up.
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 39 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The assault of Carrickrohan was for aues a 
 memorable event in Irish story ; the particu- 
 lars are still carefully preserved in the tra- 
 ditions of the countr}', and serve to show the 
 character of the wars of Elizabeth's reign. It 
 followed immediately the wars of Desmond, and 
 seemed to have closed that memorable period 
 of Irish history. 
 
 The victors, now reduced to a handful of men, 
 were received with accclamation on board the 
 sloop of war, which immediately hoisted sail 
 and stood out of the creek or bay on which the 
 castle had been situated. As they stood away 
 with a gentle breeze, every eye was upon the 
 scene of their late successful operations. How 
 different from what it was when a few day since 
 they first hove in sight of this bold point of 
 land, where Carrickrohan had looked proudly 
 over the waters of this beautiful bay. The 
 castle was no more. Its gay streamers and its 
 gleaming arms were gone. They had given
 
 40 THE ADVF.NTURERS. 
 
 place to a heap of black and smoking ruins ; 
 nolliing remained but a desolate waste, and the 
 signs of the fierce passions of the human brute 
 which had made it so. 
 
 As they gazed with feelings of exultation upon 
 this scene, some thought they discerned human 
 figures in motion upon the ruins. A tiick to 
 leeward brought them closer to the spot, and 
 two persons were distinctly seen : one was a 
 tall man in black clothes, the other was in the 
 ordinary dress of the country. They were 
 standing still as if gazing intently upon the scene 
 before them. Who could they be ? There was 
 not a house within a great distance of the head- 
 land, which had not been destroyed ; even the 
 solitary cot of the fisherman who had furnished 
 the fatal rope-ladder had not escaped the rage of 
 the soldiers. While this matter was discussed 
 by the gazers on board, the sloop made another 
 short tack and doubled the headland; and a 
 new object, the camp of the Lord Deputy, lay 
 !)cfore them, and called for all their attention. 
 The ruins of the castle were now out of sight, 
 and tlie military were mustering on the beach to 
 receive their triumphant fellow-soldiers. 
 
 O'Neil had been more surprised and inter- 
 ested than any one who had seen the figures
 
 THE ADVENTUREnS. ll 
 
 Upon the ruins. He was unable to account for 
 tijeir appearance, and was resolved to discover 
 who they were, and by what means thoy were 
 able to make their appearance upon tliat spot 
 so speedily after the departure of the Bristish. 
 
 O'Neil had won "golden opinions," from all 
 sorts of })ersons. The address and resolution 
 with which he rescuetl Bagnal and his party 
 from their perilous situation on the rope-ladder, 
 and again saved the whole detachment from the 
 desperate attempt of the dying governor of the 
 castle, excited universal admiration. And 
 though Bagnal had the leading in every enter- 
 prize, and bore himself in all respects like a 
 brave man, yet O'Neil had gained incomjiarably 
 more renown, and the fall of this important for- 
 tress was generally and justly attributed to him 
 alone. Bagnal felt that though he was, in terms, 
 commander of the attack, the honor of the con- 
 quest rested exclusively with O'Neil ; and he 
 was by no means pleased with this consciousness. 
 No castle in Ireland had ever before made so 
 brave a defence, or was so bravely carried, 
 and this circumstance added to the chagrin of 
 the ostensible commander of the attack. In 
 going calmly over O'NeiTs conduct towards 
 him he could find nothing to reprehend; all ap-
 
 42 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 peared noble, and ^LMiurous, aiul free from every 
 trace of artifice and design ; but, alter all, there 
 rested upon his mind a strong and rooted sus- 
 picion that, at the bottom of all these specious 
 and imposing appearances, there was an intent 
 to disparage him, ami to throw him injuriously 
 into the shade ; and this suspicion rankled and 
 festered upon a spirit already wounded by its 
 intercourse with this Irishman. 
 
 The taking of the castle of Carrickrohan ha<l 
 an instantaneous etfect upon the tranquillity of 
 the country. It arrested the progress of those 
 preparations for taking the field which the Irish 
 chiefs were known to be making. The Lord 
 Deputy, while in camp, received frequent cou- 
 riers from the great lords, congratulating him 
 upon his victory, ami professing the utmost 
 respect and submission to her Majesty's au- 
 thority; all which embassies and professions had 
 as much of sincerity and truth in them as such 
 diplomatic relations usually liave. I'liey were 
 perfectly well understood, however, on botli 
 sides, and answered all the purposes they were 
 intended for. 
 
 To the cabinet of London the successful ter- 
 mination of the siege was of the highest import- 
 ance. The Queen's operations in France and
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 43 
 
 the Low Countries had greatly emburrnssetl 
 her finances. Spain was in connnunication 
 witli the discontented lords of Ireland, and was 
 determined to repay the court of London in its 
 own coin, for its interference with her subjects, 
 by feeding the spirit of revolt in that country, 
 and stimulating the impatience with which the 
 native chiefs regarded the growing power of 
 Britain, in the island. The Deputy*s failure 
 or retreat would have been the signal for a 
 general attack upon the Palcy and the British 
 power in Ireland would have been shaken to 
 its centre. No time was lost in sending off 
 advices of tlie fortunate issue of the siege. 
 
 It was the end of October ; and the army 
 having rested from its labours, had received 
 orders to march towards Dublin, for the pur- 
 pose of going into quarters. From the moment 
 of his return to camp, O'Neil had been too 
 busily engaged to visit tlie ruins of the castle, 
 or enquire into the mystery of tlie apparitions 
 he had seen there the day he had sailetl out of 
 the harbour. But he determined now to ac- 
 complish his purjiose before the army marche<i. 
 
 The way from the cam}) to the castle was 
 plain and open, nor was the distance great; but 
 the difHculty lay in passing the extensive morass
 
 4-4 run adventuuers. 
 
 which sinroundccl the ruined fortress. As a 
 British ollicer he could iiol hope that any pea- 
 sant of the country would undertake to be his 
 guide even for a reward, so great was the ab- 
 horrence of the people for the !>haii^trs. If he 
 were to own himself an Irishman, he would be 
 looked upon with still greater abhorrence as a 
 traitor, and his life would be in peril. His 
 follower, Callaghan, had not been seen since he 
 had admitted the first party into the chamber 
 of the castle. Finally, he determined to dis- 
 guise himself as a substantial yeoman, and trust 
 to his own skill in crossing a bog, and to his 
 good genius ami address for his safety. He 
 was soon furnished with a thickly plaited robe 
 of saffron-coloured linen, and an immense 
 mantleof blue woollen cloth, such as were worn 
 by the better class of Irish farmers, of which 
 there were a few at that time in Ireland, who 
 held large tracts under the chiefs by a perma- 
 nent tenure, and were generally relatives, in a 
 remote degree, of the lortls. In order that his 
 costume might be complete, he was bare-headed 
 and bare-footed, and wt)re his dagger and sabre 
 under his cloak. 
 
 Thus equipped, he soon arrived at the edge 
 of the morass, without meeting with a human
 
 THE ADTINTURERS. 45 
 
 being. His practised eye was not long in se- 
 lecting the track he should pursue, but it was 
 more dillicult and embarrassed than he had 
 exj)ected to find it. At the outer edge of the 
 bog there was a broad breadth of wet soil, 
 which could only be passed, running at full 
 speed, bare-foot, and striking the ground 
 obliquely, and with great address and rapidity. 
 To move slowly or to stop an instant would be 
 certain death. O'Neil did not hesitate, and he 
 soon passed this dangerous tract in safety. He 
 might now walk on with more confidence: the 
 soil was firmer to his foot; but it was intersected 
 by deep trenches, out of which turf had been 
 taken for 3'ears for the supply of the castle with 
 fuel ; and from the breadth of the trenches it 
 appeared as if some view had been also had to 
 its defence : they were wide, and filled with turf- 
 water. O'Neil leaped several, but some re- 
 mained which surpassed even his activity, and 
 he was com|)elled to make long and dilFicult 
 circuits. At length, after much labour and 
 fatigue, he reached the ruin. 
 
 It was now evening, but it was calm and 
 bright; and O'Neil stood for a wljilc surveying 
 the ruin he had made. I lere and there sonie few 
 feet of the walls still projected above the ground ;
 
 46 Tin: ADVENTURERS. 
 
 fragments ofrurniturc, ofn homely but solid kind 
 lay scattered about ; but the traces of fire were 
 upon every thing. Broken spears, hatcliets, and 
 hehnets of the gallow-glasses appeared amongst 
 the rubbish, and many of tlie stiff and blackened 
 bodies of the dead lay still unburied ; while in 
 various places, hands, and heads, atid feet of the 
 half interred soldiers were protruded from the 
 thin turf that covered them. The scene was 
 awful and melancholy, and used as O'Xeil had 
 been to sights like these, there was something 
 in this, and in the time, and place, and circum- 
 tance around hira, which made it more than or- 
 dinarily impressive. He sat down upon a frag- 
 ment of the broken wall. 
 
 After a short time he was roused fi*om his 
 reverie by a quick step behind him. It was 
 the same tall figure which he had seen upon 
 this spot a few days before, and which was 
 the object of his search. It was a man, 
 apparently an ecclesiastic of some order of 
 monks or friars. He stood still as O'Xeil 
 turned towards him, and pointed to the 
 ruins all around with a look of solemnity and 
 anguish, but without uttering a word, then 
 crossed his hands upon his breast, and lifting 
 his eyes to heaven seemed to appeal to that
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 47 
 
 power which had permitted such havoc. He 
 was a man of middle ai^e and fine counte- 
 nar.ce, upon which an expression of wildness 
 had l)een impressed, probably by the calamitous 
 events of the troubled times in which he lived. 
 O'Neil waited impatiently for some communi- 
 cation from the stranger. But he did not speak, 
 and seemed lost in his own musings. " I can- 
 not find him," said he, after a while, *' though 
 I have dug as deep as I could, and poor Cai- 
 laghan has helped me; but we cannot find liim." 
 — *' ^Mlo is it you speak of?" said O'Neil. 
 The stranger stared for an instant, as if sur- 
 prised at the question ; and then seeming to re- 
 collect himself, he said, " I have been looking 
 for the dead body of my brother, who was 
 governor of this castle." — " He was a brave 
 man," said O'Neil. — " He was a good man," 
 said the priest, " and without guile, and that 
 is a rare character in this world. The 
 Saxons have introduced guile amongst us, 
 and made sincerity uncommon in Ireland." — 
 " We must meet guile with guile, I-'ather," 
 said O'Neil: " the crafty must be taken in their 
 own toils." — *' Wc should meet guile with sim- 
 plicity of purpose, and the toils of the crafty
 
 48 Tlir ADVENTUIIEHS 
 
 would then be a snare for his own IllL only, 
 replied llie stranger. 
 
 Another person now joined them, it was 
 O' Neil's follower, Callaghan. I'he latter started 
 on perceiving his lord, and ,an exp»ression of 
 grief and trouble spread itself over his counte- 
 nance. O'Neil made a sign to Callaghan that 
 he tlid not choose to be recognized ; and after 
 some finther conversation with the clergyman, 
 iu which it api)eared that the latter had no 
 distinct apprehension of his being a stranger : 
 he reminded him that night was coming on, 
 and asked where he meant to sojourn. 
 
 " Callaghan knows," said the priest, and 
 without further notice passed on to other sub- 
 jects ; and dwelt upon the catastrophe of the 
 castle, and the loss of the governor's body, who, 
 it appeared, was his brother-in-law. While 
 thus engaged Callaghan drew O'Neil aside, and 
 asked, earnestly, what his purpose was in coming 
 there ? 
 
 " Why do you ask, Callaghan?" 
 
 ** Can O'Neil be surprised at my question, 
 who laid the castle of Carreckrohan in ruins ?" 
 
 *' I don't intend to do any more mischief, 
 Callaghan, but I must know more of this 
 priest."
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 49 
 
 *' You shall know all, provided you promise 
 to do him no injury." 
 
 " I liave done enouMi of harm alreadv, and 
 cannot do more even for you," said Callaghan. 
 
 " I will not require it." 
 
 Callaghan now told M'Dermot (the priest) 
 that his sister and M'Egan waited for him at 
 the cave, and })roposed to go there immediately, 
 and he suffered himself to be led away as a child. 
 
 At a short distance from where they stood, 
 Callaghan removed a flat stone, and discovered 
 a narrow stone stair leading, apparently, far into 
 the earth. They descended. The stair con- 
 ducted them into a long narrow passage, which, 
 winding in various directions, at length opened 
 into a spacious apartment or vaulted chamber, 
 illuminated by a large fire of blazing turf and 
 bog wood. There were two females, (one witli 
 a child in her arms,) and three or four men sit- 
 ting round the fire. 
 
 The female with the child was a young and 
 handsome woman, of about twenty ; the other 
 was old, and apparently a servant or nurse. Of 
 the itien, one was a man of mitldle size and great 
 l)ulk, his voice was loud and rough, his manners 
 coarse and peremptory, and his countenance 
 showed lines of the bon-vivaiit, and an inclination 
 
 VOL. I . D
 
 50 THE ADVFNTrREUS. 
 
 to jollity and iiulul^'cnce, mixetl with traces of 
 care. His dress and equipment were partly 
 clerical, partly military. He wore a sword bv 
 his side, and a pair of pistols oniamented a 
 huge belt which crossed his ample waist, while 
 the bead and rosary were suspended from his 
 neck. M*Egan, for it was by this name he 
 was addresse<l, was one of those military church- 
 men which are produced in evil times, and in- 
 dicate a diseased state of society. The rest of 
 the party consisted of servants and soldiers. 
 
 The young woman was the wife, now the 
 widow of M'Mahon, late governor of the castle. 
 Her face was of the Grecian order, pale and 
 tranquil as a statue from the temple of INIinerva. 
 There was an expression of woe upon it, but it 
 was (juict and gentle. It was that sorrow which 
 is likely to acquire strength in its progress, if 
 not checked by some counter current of tht 
 passions. 
 
 She did not notice the stranger. Her little 
 attentions were confined to her brother. Her 
 nurse sat at her feet on the ground, and em- 
 ployed herself in talking in a low mutter to 
 herself, and gazing now and then intently upon 
 the face of her young mistress. 
 
 M'Egan enquired anxiously of Callaghan of
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 51 
 
 the movements of the Enghsh army, and learned, 
 with much apparent satisfaction, that the Lord 
 Deputy was to march the following day for 
 Dublin. 
 
 " My curse upon the unlucky fortune, or 
 upon the traitors," said he, " who introduced 
 the Saxons into our castle. I have never been 
 able to understand it. They got upon the top 
 as if by enchantment, no one can tell how. I 
 am no great believer in spells and witcheries, l)ut 
 one meets with strange things now-a-days, since 
 the devil has introduced heresy and the Saxons 
 into Ireland. But, M*Dermot, rouse yourself, 
 man ; liere's wine for you ;" and he filled up a 
 iTol)let and drank it off, offering at the same time 
 another to M'Dermot. The latter declined it, 
 and M*Egan repeated his potation. When he 
 laid down the goblet he continued as if com- 
 l)ating a silent objection of M*Dermot's. 
 
 " What ! is it not calamity enough that 
 strangers possess our lands, and raze our castles, 
 and profane our temples, and proscribe our 
 religion ; sliall we also impose additional evils 
 upon ourselves, and refuse the consolatloji of n 
 cup of wine ?** 
 
 " The season of calamity," said M^Dermot, 
 mildly, " which, perhaps, our sins liave merited, 
 D 2
 
 52 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 :shoul(l 1)0 a season of hiimiliatioii, and not ot 
 enjoyment; at such a time we should i'a:>t and 
 pray." 
 
 " The church imposes no fast upon good 
 liquor." 
 
 " I should rather be directed by my con- 
 science and the spirit of our Christian faith." 
 
 " Conscience ! what is the conscience of an 
 individual but a jack o'die lantern leading him 
 astray? And do not the Saxons, who rob and 
 murder us, talk for evermore of the Gospel, 
 and the spirit of religion ?" 
 
 " They do ; and if their reformation be a good 
 one, then are they the most criminal of men, 
 who have murdered the truth, and thrown ever- 
 lasting impediments in the way of the progress 
 of ligiit." 
 
 '* They have come," said M*Egan, " with 
 religion on their lips, and swords in their hands, 
 and murder and robbery in their hearts. 
 Look there," said he, " look at that young and 
 widowed woman, she is your own sister, M^Der- 
 mot, — look at her infant child, — a few days 
 since she was the happy wife of the bravest 
 man in Erin, and that infant had a father, — 
 until the Saxon came." 
 
 ** Do not press these points, M^Egan," said
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 53 
 
 M'Dermot, while a wild and convulsive motion 
 passed over his face ; " I have thought of them 
 too much, and am not now able to bear tliem." 
 
 The young woman pressed her child in her 
 arms, then looked anxiously in her brother's 
 countenance, and turning a reproachful look 
 upon INI'Egan, she broke into an agony of 
 grief, and wept aloud. 
 
 " Nay, nay," said the military churchman, 
 " I did not intend this, I am too rough to 
 touch such matters : — there, there, do not 
 weep, and I shall be more cautious. Oh ! 
 these cursed Saxons ! " 
 
 O' Neil's attention was deeply engaged by 
 this scene. He knew by report that M'Egan 
 was an active and formidable enemy of the Bri- 
 tish, frequently leading his followers and vassals 
 in the field, but acting chiefly as a negotiator 
 of peace amongst his own countrymen, and of 
 war, eternal war, with the invader. M*Egan 
 was superior of the priory of Innisdune, to 
 which various lands were attached, and he also 
 held other possessions in his own right as a 
 chieftain of the second order. 
 
 M'Dermot was a simple monk of the same 
 Priory, and was also of a noble family of 
 a much higher rank, but altogether without 
 D 3
 
 5* THE adventi;rers. 
 
 possessions. He was of a gentle character, but 
 before lie entered the church gave proofs ol 
 great steadiness and intrepidity. A series ol 
 domestic cahimities had broken down a firm 
 and cheerful spirit, and in the process of its 
 ruin it had lost its equilibrium, and reason 
 struggled hard, at the period we speak of, to 
 maintain its place and power. The destruction 
 of Carrickrohan, and death of his brother- 
 in-law, were a fearful stroke, and M*l)ermot, 
 conscious of his infirmity, strove against it with 
 all his might. But in this case he was sus- 
 tained by a new motive. He saw his beloved 
 sister stricken to the earth by this awful cala- 
 mity, and he felt the urgent obligation to sus- 
 tain iier mind. This feeling of duty upheld 
 his own reeling faculties. His sister, notwith- 
 standing her own aflllctions, watched her bro- 
 ther with nuich soUcitude, antl found in her 
 care for him some alleviation of her own sor- 
 row. Their nuitual tenderness was their mu- 
 tual support. 
 
 Mrs. iVI*Mahon, the young and beautiful 
 wife of the gallant governor, had adnjired anil 
 esteemed her husband, and thought she loveil 
 him ; and when he fell, the blow stunned and 
 confouniled her. She felt the bitterness of her
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 55 
 
 desolate condition. She was now unprotected 
 and alone in the world : her brother would 
 rather need protection than was calculated 
 to afford it. This feeling of loneliness and 
 destitution, as well as the mode and sud- 
 denness of the loss she had sustained, weighed 
 down her heart into utter wretchedness, antl 
 she believed that misery had no lower depth, 
 nor sorrow a severer pang. 
 
 A number of persons had entered tlie cave 
 from time to time during the evening, and 
 O'Neil found that much of then* attention was 
 attracted by himself. He observed, too, that 
 those persons seemed all to bring intelligence 
 of some kind to M'Egan, and the latter directetl 
 every now and then glances of suspicion antl 
 curiosity upon him, and called Callaghan re- 
 peatedly, as if to question him upon the subject 
 of the stranger he had introduced. 
 
 At length M*Egan approached him, and 
 commenced a conversation upon the general 
 state of Ireland, rather in a higher strain ot 
 politics than the appearance and character 
 which O'Xeil had assumed would warrant. 
 O'Neil did not shrink from this test. Nor was 
 he long in gaining the ascendant over his exa- 
 miner, and winning his good opinion. Hf 
 D 4-
 
 56 THE ADVENTUUERS. 
 
 soon wrested the weapon from the rude hand 
 of the Prior, and turned it against himself, em- 
 ploying it with so much skill and address, that 
 while he guarded his own purposes with care, 
 he laid bare the bosom of his antagonist. 
 
 As the conversation deepened in interest to 
 the parties, they retired from the circle round 
 the fire, and withdrew into a small chamber 
 which opened from the cave. 
 
 M'Dermot appeared relieved by the absence 
 of his rough companion. 
 
 " We must leave this to-morrow, Madaleen," 
 said he to his sister. 
 
 " And where shall we go to now, Cormac ?" 
 
 " Where now, true," said he, " I forgot," 
 putting his hand to his forehead ; " but IVPEgan 
 will arrange it." 
 
 " And will you leave your poor Maud en- 
 tirely in his hands? you know he is so rough 
 and so much of a soldier that " 
 
 " You are right, Maud, I must attend to 
 these matters myself, and not give way as I 
 used to do to this forgetfulness. I have new 
 duties, and I must not abandon them." 
 
 " I am sure you will not, dear Cormac, and 
 I would wish you to know more of M'Egan's 
 plans ; they are often wild mid dangerous. You
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 57 
 
 and I must take care of this dear child, who 
 has no other relative in the world." 
 
 " I will not desert him, Maud : the last of the 
 blood o{ tlie M'Dermots, — poor thing." 
 
 M'Dermot's train of thought was broken in 
 upon to the great relief of his sister, by a loud 
 and clamorous discussion which- now arose 
 amongst the savage looking men who lay 
 stretched upon the floor enjoying the blaze of 
 the fire. The subject was the taking of the 
 castle, and the various events of the attack, and 
 it seemed pretty generally agreed that it had 
 been captured by the agency of the evil spirit 
 only, who constantly obeyed the incantations 
 of the Saxons, and gave them dominion in this 
 world, as the price of their eternal servituiie in 
 the next. 
 
 While this discourse continued, O'Neil and 
 M'Egan joined the party in the great cave, 
 anil a perfect intelligence seemed to be esta- 
 blished between them. M*Egan called for food, 
 and ordered wheaten cakes, cold meat, wine, 
 and usquebaugh to be placed on the table, and 
 invited O'Neil to eat. The latter obeyed with 
 alacrity, and did justice to the hospitiility of his 
 host. M*Dermot and iiis sister eat nothing. 
 The other inmates of the cave sat promiscu- 
 D 5
 
 58 Tin: AUVENTUKKRS. 
 
 ously al tlic end of the table, aiul liel[)u(l them- 
 selves plentifully. Anionj^ these was C'allaghan, 
 who had been abroad, and ])ad returned with 
 some information which he coimmuiicated in 
 a whisper to M'Kj^an. 
 
 CNeil, having finishcil his hasty repast, rose 
 to depart ; mid the Piior, who had not been 
 sparing of wine or us(|uebaugli, wished him good 
 niglit In a bumper, and desired Callaghan to 
 be his conductor out of the cave. 
 
 It was now the dawn of the morning, and 
 (yXeil, as he traversed again the long passage 
 leading from the cave to the castle, j)erceived 
 that it was illuminated in various places with 
 the rays of the morning light. These did not 
 enter by the roof, but at one side of the passage; 
 and on examination he discovered, that the 
 passage traversed the side of the clilf hanging- 
 over the beach, and that the light was admitted 
 by means of small natural fissures in the rock, 
 where the deep clefts almost entered the sub- 
 terranean way, and gave admittance to the air. 
 It was one of those passages which are generally 
 found to comnmnicate at some considerable dis- 
 tance outside with the old castles of the Irish. 
 They often teiminale in those rude circular 
 defences called Danish forts. In this case the
 
 THi: ADVENTURBRS. 59 
 
 passage ran along the side of the cliff, and gave 
 the garrison of the castle a perfect commantl 
 of the (liificiilt path by which Bagnal and his 
 party first attempted to gain the heights near 
 the fortress. 
 
 As O'Xeil surveyed the scene from the little 
 natural window in the rock, he felt its full 
 influence. The freshness of tlie air was delicious. 
 The sea rolled underneath in calm and ([uiet 
 grandeur. A gentle breeze hardly ruffled its 
 surface. The lone cot of the fisherman (already 
 repaired) stood at a distance upon the strand; 
 and the fisherman himself was seen unmooring 
 his little bark, and preparing for the toils of 
 the day. It was a peaceful scene, and O'XeiPs 
 lieart was moved ; though the aspect of nature 
 had usually little power over a spirit devoted to 
 war and ambition. He felt how strange it was 
 that strife or contention should ever disturb so 
 fair a scene. Surely man might live his short 
 day in peace, and submit to the fate of human- 
 ity, without sprinkling his grave-stone with the 
 blood of his fellows. 
 
 He was roused by Callaghan pointing to a 
 cormorant, which was pursuing its prey on 
 the surface of the water. 
 
 " It is the same through all nature," ^aid 
 i> 6
 
 60 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 O'Neil : " amonnr the inhabitants of air, earth, 
 and ocean, there are only the pursued and the 
 pursuers." 
 
 As he continued his way through the passage, 
 Callaghan hinted his ajiprehension that 0*NeiI 
 intended to conniiand his attendance beyond 
 the ruin ; insinuating, at the same time, very 
 submissively, the impossibiUty of obedience. 
 " If you wanted it," said he, " I would go to the 
 end of the world for you, or for any of your 
 name and kin. But I have almost sworn an 
 oath not to desert the poor lady and her little 
 innocent child, seeing, God forgive me, that 
 it was through me she lost her husband, and 
 the infant its father." 
 
 " What lady do you speak of, Callaghan." 
 
 " Who should I speak of but the widow of 
 the brave M'Mahon, who is buried alive, as 
 it were, in that ugly hole in the earth, to which 
 the like of her was not accustomed ? And her 
 noble husband lies buried in earnest in some 
 iiole near her, for we have not hands enough, 
 God help us, to dig him out and put him in a 
 Christian's grave." 
 
 '' I would be the last man to take you away 
 from your virtuous attendance upon this deso- 
 late widow."
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 61 
 
 ** Now. now," said Callaghan, " CNeil is 
 himself again. — Oh ! that " 
 
 •• Callaghan, what is the matter with 
 M-Dermot ?" 
 
 •• Poor M*Dermot, he is of a noble and a 
 gentle nature, and before he was a priest, a 
 braver or a steadier soldier never led the gaUow- 
 ^lasses : but his mind has been drifted out of its 
 place by a current of misfortunes, |K)or fellow, 
 and has now no certain aim or direction ; and 
 it was for that reason, O'Xeil, that, along with 
 my own sins, I thought myself bound to God 
 to take care of his sister and her child." 
 
 " And how will you and they live ?' 
 
 " Live! — why I don't know; the poor widow 
 eats nothing, and M'Dermot the same thing, 
 and the child is sickly, and the old woman anv 
 thing would do her, and I can live any how, it 
 does not jnaiter." 
 
 '* That's providing for you all, certainly : but 
 here is a better provision, at least for a while ;" 
 and O'Xeil drew a purse from under his cloak. 
 and handed it to Callaghan. 
 
 The latter would have declined it : he said 
 that it ^was not necessary- ; that wherever they 
 went, from one end of Ireland to the other,
 
 (iii THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 every door would be open to M'Malion's widow, 
 and her brother and her followers. 
 
 " No doubt," said O'Neil, " but you imist 
 still take the money, and cm})loy it tor their 
 use and your own. Like yourself I feel that 
 I owe them some care and attention, and I 
 must try in this }H)or way to pay a little of my 
 debt." 
 
 " Spoke like your father's son, O'Neil; anil 
 I will take it and use it, but not for myself. 
 What should the like of me want of gold ? 
 But," said he, looking doubtfully, " might not 
 this gold come from the heretics, and " 
 
 O'Neil looked displeaseil. 
 
 " Don't be angry with me, O'Neil, that I dis- 
 trust the gold w Inch luis destroyed our country. 
 And O'Neil himself " 
 
 " Hold, Callaghan, you know not my motives ; 
 and do not you presume to scan theni. O'Neil 
 never valued gold. The wide domains of Ulster, 
 its rivers, lakes, and woods, its hardy population, 
 these are the possessions which are dear to the 
 soul of 0*Neil, and not such trash as this." 
 
 " That I have lived to hear your own mouth 
 say it," said Callaghan, in an ecstasy of joy. 
 " We thought you had forgotten the glory of
 
 THE ADVENTUIIEKS. 63 
 
 all your royal ancestors for so many ages; that 
 you had Uiken up the notions of the Faxons, 
 and dieir new modes of life, preferring their 
 towns, and their tralUc, and their law-, that tie 
 a man's mind uj), as the clothes they wear do 
 his body, to the freedom of our own green fields, 
 and forests, and paternal institutions." 
 
 "•' I cannot explain myself to j/ou, Callaghan; 
 you cannot comprehend the necessities of my 
 situation. But I am not changed ; I have not 
 degenerated from my ancestors : and the time is, 
 perhaps, not disUuit, when I will prove it in the 
 face of all Ireland ; but, until then, this convers- 
 ation must be known to no one. I tell you so 
 much, because you have served me faithfully, 
 and I owe you some confidence. Be secret, and 
 rely upon me." 
 
 " Yes, as surely as upon Shane himself, and 
 as faithfully shall you be obeyed." 
 
 They had now arrived at the narrow stiiir 
 which led up to the ruin. O'Neil ascentled 
 and left his faidiful follower below. The latter 
 returned to the cave, and the former took his 
 way to the camp of the Lord Deputy. On his 
 arrival there he found the army in motion, and 
 preparing to march ; he found, also, that import- 
 ant dispatches had arrived from England to
 
 61- THK ADVENTURERS. 
 
 the Deputy, comnuiniciUin«r the Queen's high 
 satisfaction at the capture of the castle of Car- 
 rickrohiiM, and confirming the lionor of knight- 
 hood to Sir Henry Bagnal, which had l)een 
 conferred on the spot by the Lord Deputy when 
 the castle was reduced. The conduct of O'Neil 
 was spoken of in the most flattering terms ; and 
 the Deputy was commanded to inform him that 
 the Queen only waited a proper opportunity to 
 testify her sense of his important services and 
 great merit. Every officer engaged in the at- 
 tack was advanced a step, and the satisfaction 
 of the Queen widi the conduct of the whole 
 army was communicated in general orders, and 
 read at the head of each company. 
 
 Soon after these satisfactory communications 
 Bagnal was detached with a part of the army 
 to cover the north-western district, and keep 
 O'Donnel in check, whose motions still gave 
 some uneasiness ; while the Deputy, with the 
 remainder of the army, and accompanied by 
 O'Neil, proceeded towards Dublin. On the 
 march he begged the Lord Deputy's permis- 
 sion to repair to London, where he stated that 
 family affairs of importance had long waited 
 his presence, but which the exigencies of the 
 service had not as yet permitted him to attend
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 65 
 
 to. Now tlie country was quiet, and he trusted 
 that quiet would not soon be disturbed ; and he 
 would therefore be glad, if it met his Lordship*s 
 concurrence, to profit by the present season of 
 tranquillity, and make a short visit to England. 
 The Lord Deputy gave an instant consent ; 
 and O'Neil, who had been previously furnished 
 with introductions by Bagnal to his family and 
 friends, and by other officers of rank to various 
 persons in England, was now also supplied with 
 dispatches to the Queen and government by the 
 Deputy, in which he spoke in the highest terms 
 of this distinguished officer.
 
 66 DIE AUVKN rinrifs- 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Hugh O'Neil wub the sou of Matthew, Baron 
 of Diincannon, and grandson of Con, first Earl 
 of Tyrone. The ilUistrious house of O'Neil 
 had been distinguislied by a long succession of 
 able and intrepid princes. Con had visited the 
 court of Henry the Eighth, and been received 
 by that monarch with the most flattering cour- 
 tesy ; he was prevailed upon to acce})t iui earl- 
 dom; his son Matthew was created a baron, 
 and lands and suitable residences near Dublin 
 were conferred upon them, with a view to en- 
 courage an intercourse between them and the 
 British power in Ireland. 
 
 Matthew was the favourite son of Con, but 
 he was not the eldest, for the custom of Ireland 
 gave the inheritance to the ablest; before the 
 eldest son of the chief. The chiefry was elec- 
 tive as to the person, but hereditary as to the 
 family; the tribe could not be led by a low 
 born person, nor by an incapable one; and this 
 phui was adopted to secure the double advan-
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 67 
 
 tage of higli birth aiul talent. According to 
 the custom of the East, httle distinction was 
 made between the children of the chief, born in 
 wedlock or out of it; all who were acknow- 
 letlged as his offspring were e(iiially eligible to 
 be his successor. The property of the chief 
 was generally understood to be the property 
 of the tribe, and they used it accordingly 
 without scruple ; but this necessity of sharing 
 their possessions with their numerous followers, 
 and their incompetency to transmit their rank 
 and wealth to their children, were both unpalat- 
 able to the noble families of Ireland. As soon 
 as they became acquainted with the nature ot 
 English tenures they saw all their advantages, 
 and felt how desirable it would be to convert 
 those estates, which were rather the properties 
 of their septs than their own, into private inhe- 
 ritances, which should descend to their own 
 children, rather than to a distant, though, per- 
 haps, abler branch of the family. 
 
 The nobles of Ireland were seduced by the 
 tenures of England, and to obtain the advan- 
 tages these ofiered, they were reatly to sacrifice 
 their country, and to bow tjje neck to the yoke 
 of the foreigner. Tlie faniily of the O'Neil 
 was less open to the seduction of British law;
 
 68 THi: ADVENTrRERS. 
 
 their power niul splendor had ever been too 
 great to make tiiosc advaiitafres of much mo- 
 ment to them, which to others were of the ut- 
 most importance. 
 
 Their dominion and prerogatives were more 
 decidedly princely ; and they could not hesitate 
 between the condition of an Irkh prince and a 
 British noble. The splendor of a race con- 
 nected of old with the highest throned families of 
 Europe made them look with coldness upon the 
 courtesies of monarchs, and the distinctions they 
 could confer. To the inheritance of power and- 
 grandeur, the O'Neils united the rarer inherit- 
 ance of talent; a quality which is, perhaps, in 
 its ixnture more ambitious and impatient of re- 
 straint than pride. Pride is often timid, and 
 even mean ; talent is ever bold and exalted. 
 
 The O'Neils were remarkable for a singular 
 versatility of character : — brave, patient, hardy, 
 scorning every danger, and enduring every fa- 
 tigue ; passing with ease from the bosom of almost 
 regal luxury, into the depths of the severest 
 privation ; treading their mazy path with a sure 
 and confident foot throuirh the windinj^s of the 
 most intricate policy, and assuming at every 
 point, wliatever character the emergency called 
 for, the pliancy of the serpent, the fierceness
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 69 
 
 of the tiger, or the strength and magnanimity 
 of the hon. 
 
 The preference whicli Con O'Neil gave to liis 
 son Matthew over his elder son Shane drew 
 upon the former the wrath and hostility of tlie 
 latter; and the contests of his children embit- 
 tered the latter years of his life, and hastened 
 his death. Shane was not only the eldest, but 
 the boldest and most intrepid of the brothers, 
 and on the death of his father he had little 
 difficulty in assuming the leading of the sept. 
 Matthew died a violent death, and there was 
 strong suspicion that Shane was implicated in 
 the murder. 
 
 Hugh v.as the only son of the Baron of Dun- 
 cannon, and was yet a child when his father was 
 murdered. When this fatal transaction oc- 
 curred, Hugh was saved with difficulty by his 
 fosterer, Callaghan, and some other attached 
 followers of his father, and conveyed into a place 
 of safety, beyond the reach of his uncle. He 
 was received and protected by the Lord Kildare, 
 who was nearly connected with the family of 
 0*Neil. In the noble family of Kildare, Hugh 
 became acquainted with all the literature of the 
 age, and with the policy and politics of the 
 court of England. When he grew uj) he tra-
 
 70 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 veiled Ibr some years on the Continent, and 
 renewed his family connections in France, Italy, 
 and (iermany. On his return to Ireland lu- 
 entered into the Queen's service, and obtained a 
 troop of dra^^oons, and was soon distinguished 
 as the boldest and most accomplished officer in 
 the service. The wars of Desmond, which 
 terminated in the overthrow and death of that 
 powerful nobleman, opened a wide field to the 
 military genius of O'Neil, of which he profited 
 to the utmost. 
 
 While Hugh was engaged in this war, his 
 uncle, Shane O'Neil, perished. He was assas- 
 sinated by some Scottish officers at his own 
 table, when in the act of entertaining them with 
 a princely hospitality. He defended himself 
 bravely even in this extremity, and was hewn to 
 pieces. His career had been wild and stormy, 
 but brilliant and successful, and marked through- 
 out with a disregard of principle and humanity. 
 
 On the death of Shane, the British govern- 
 ment interfered and assisted old Tyrlough 
 O'Neil, uncle of the deceased, to obtain the 
 chiefry of this restless tribe. But Tyrlough 
 was too old, and of too mild a character to pre- 
 serve a steady hold, or long to maintain his 
 place at the helm of the north. The sons of
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 71 
 
 Shane O'Neil were yet children, and Hugh was 
 still young, and at this time busily engaged in 
 the Desmond war. And in any case his con- 
 nection with the British government completely 
 disqualified him in the eyes of the northern 
 Irish to hold the sceptre of the O'Neil. 
 
 Hugh, though so actively engaged in the south, 
 was by no means inattentive to what was trans- 
 acting in those dominions, of which he considered 
 himself the rightful heir. He knew that, as a 
 British officer, his sept would never turn their 
 eyes towards him as a chief, and that situated as 
 he was, his only chance of obtaining the govern- 
 ment of the north lay in recommending himself 
 to the crown of Eiiijland, and obtaining? aid from 
 that quarter. Again, it was the j^olicy of the 
 British cabinet to favour, at all times, the pre- 
 tensions of those chiefs, from whose feebleness 
 of character there was little to apprehend. 
 O'Neil's spirit and talent would, therefore, not 
 be found in his favour whenever he should lay 
 claim to the hif^h di^rnitv of The O'Neil. 
 With his countrymen he had to combat tiie 
 disadvantage of his British connection ; with 
 the British government he had to contend 
 against his own reputation for talent and activity ;
 
 72 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 but this double (lifTiculty wius not l)eyond his 
 skill and address. His measures to surmount 
 it were already in forwardness. He had opened 
 connnunications with the north by means of 
 Calla'dian and M'Ejran, but with the utmost 
 caution. And his journey to London was con- 
 nected with the other branch of the dilemma in 
 which he was placed. It was necessary that his 
 purpose should be carefully concealed from the 
 lynx eyes of the Queen's olTicer*> both in England 
 and Ireland, as he knew that however disposed 
 to flatter and caress him, they would be de- 
 cidedly opposed to any scheme for restoring him 
 to the splendid inheritance of his father ; and 
 that they might also plead, with some show of 
 reason, the superior claims of the sons of Shane, 
 who was the eldest son of Con. 
 
 O'Neil did not imitate the bold measure of 
 his uncle, who had appeared at the court of 
 Elizabeth as a sovereign prince, attended by a 
 formidable body-guard of gallow-glasses, armed 
 and clad in the fashion of their country, to the 
 •rreat astonishment of the citizens of I^ndon, to 
 whom they appeared as strange as a banil of 
 Muscovites ; but who could not conceal their ad- 
 miration of the beauty of O'Neil's chosen guards 
 — their formidable battle-axes and splendid ar-
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 7S 
 
 mour, half Euroj^an, half Asiatic. The Irish 
 troops at that day wore pretty nearly the same 
 dress as tlie Turks or Greeks of the present 
 time; or perhaps the pictures(|ue equipment of 
 the Albanian soldiers approaches it more nearly, 
 — partly a compact armour, partly loose and 
 flowing robes; and they relied most, as a wea- 
 pon, on the long sabre and battle-axe, wielded 
 with a vigorous arm. 
 
 O'Neil appeared at court in the plain dress 
 of an English gentleman, and was most gra- 
 ciously received by the queen. His services 
 were praised and magnified, and the maiden 
 monarch condescended to intimate how much 
 pleasure she had in having in her service one 
 of his high family, whom she had so long sought 
 to attach to her throne. She dwelt upon the 
 efforts she had made to attach his uncle, Shane 
 O'Neil, and his father, the Baron Matthew, 
 and how cruelly she had been disappointed. 
 
 O'Neil met these advances of the (jueen with 
 the winning and cautious address of which he 
 was Complete master. The humility of his de- 
 portment was flattering to the female sovereign; 
 and while he took care that she should not 
 forget the dignity of liis family, and the splen- 
 dour of his descent, as giving value and bril- 
 
 VOL I.. E
 
 71 Tin. ADVENTURERS. 
 
 liaiicy to his devotion to the prince, he mingled 
 in hi> j)rofbund obeisances so much that was 
 courteous and gallant towards the lady, that 
 even EUzabetli's caution and high sense oi" 
 prerogative were hdled. He joined iier majesty 
 in lier regret that the people of the north of 
 Ireland were by no means retluced to obedience 
 to the liritish power, and drew a vigorous and 
 impartial sketch of the state of Ulster, sunk into 
 profound barbarism and disorder, which moved 
 her majesty's paternal bosom towards this ne- 
 glected portion of her dominions, and induced 
 her to inquire how this lamentiible state of things 
 could be remedied. 
 
 O'Neil answered that he saw no mode of 
 remedying the disorders of the north, except 
 by placing some tried and faithful servant of 
 her majesty at the head of the people there ; 
 and this could only be done by choosing amongst 
 die family of O'Neil one, the most worthy of 
 her majesty's confidence. The queen continued 
 to listen, and he proceeded to give some account 
 of the various members of his own family, none 
 of whom, according to his statement, were qua- 
 lified to answer her majesty's views ; when he 
 canic to liimself, he said, he need say nodiing 
 on the subject of Hugh O'Neil, as he was
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 75 
 
 known to her majesty, and had tVequendy, and 
 in the most difficult positions, proved his tle- 
 votion to her service ; she was also acquainted 
 widi his poor abilities, which were too trivial 
 for him to mention. 
 
 Before O'Neil took leave of her majesty, 
 there was a full explanation between these po- 
 liticians. He prayed restitution to his father's 
 rights as Baron of Duncannon, and heir to the 
 earldom of Tyrone ; and with these titles, and 
 the countenance of the British government, he 
 undertook to reinstate himself in all the rifrhts 
 and sovereignty of the O'Neil ; and to hold 
 these of the crown of England, and to take 
 vigorous and immediate measures to introduce 
 English- polity and civilization into the fine 
 provinces of the north. 
 
 A few days after this important conversation, 
 her majesty saluted O'Neil as Earl of Tyrone, 
 and j)resenled him with the patent conferring 
 upon him the earldom, and restoring him to the 
 lands and possessions of The O'Neil in Ulster, 
 with some few exceptions of lands granted by 
 the crown since the death of Shant', and a small 
 domain secured to 'I'irlough for his life. 
 
 Thus had O'Neil, by a mixture of boldness 
 and address, effected his purpose, and reinstated 
 E 2
 
 70 THK ADVENTUKERS. 
 
 liiiubelf in die vast posscssiont* of his ancestors. 
 Tlic title of Tyrone adtled nothing to his dig- 
 nity; on the contrary, he was aware that it would 
 rather diminish his inHuence with his ibllowers 
 in the nortlj, but it was necessary, in dealing 
 with the queen, to appear to set a value upon 
 it, and he knew also hov,- to turn it to account, 
 anil how to obviate the ill ini{)rcssion it might 
 make on his countrymen. 
 
 O' Neil's interview with the queen's ministers 
 was by no means so satisfactory as with her 
 majesty. These were not quite so satisfied 
 concerning the motives and purposes of the 
 Irish earl ; and, admitting all his loyalty and 
 merit, they doubted the policy of surrendering 
 such ijnmcnse territories into the power of an 
 individual of confessed ability and ambition, 
 who might l)e templed perha})i) one day to 
 tbrget his obligations to his sovereign, and to 
 remember only the ancient splendour and in- 
 tlepenilence of his family. The frequent re- 
 lapses of the Irish chieftains were a source oi 
 continual and alarming embarrassments to the 
 ;jovcrnment : and whether occasioned bv their 
 own fickleness and impatience, or the provo- 
 cations they were constantly receivin'r from the
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 77 
 
 British adventurers, the danger and expense 
 were the same. 
 
 Concerning O'Neil himself, they were not a 
 Httle puzzled to form an opinion ; they were 
 rather embarrassed than satisfied with the air 
 of perfect openness and candour with which he 
 met and baffled their scrutiny. The queen, 
 however, was decided ; she had made up her 
 mind, and her reasons were at least specious, 
 and were certainly founded in justice and ge- 
 nerosity. 
 
 When taking leave of the queen, O'Neil ap- 
 peare<l at court with great splendour, clad in 
 the military garb of his country ; — his corslet 
 of steel, gracefully covered with a scarf of saffron- 
 coloured silk, and low bonnet, resembling a 
 turban, ornamente<l with diamonds, showed a 
 fine face and person to great advantage. Nor 
 did O'Neil, though to gratify his royal mistress 
 he appeared in the military costume of liis na- 
 tive land, assume any thing of the strut of the 
 half savage, or the pomjx)us air of a leader of 
 some three hundred followers and score of 
 (fillies. O'Neil knew that six thousand men-at- 
 arms obeyed the blo<jd-)td IkukK and felt tin- 
 modesty of real power. 
 
 E S
 
 78 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 Spite of O'Neil's habits of policy and in- 
 trigue, he was really moved at taking leave of 
 his gracious mistress. The queen perceived it; 
 and was herself affected. The affections will 
 sometimes show tliemselves, even in the cold 
 elevations of society, like a hot spring on the 
 summit of Chimborazo, its warm bubbles burst- 
 ing through the snows and chilling atmosphere. 
 The queen had been pleased with the person 
 and address of the Irish chief, and he had not 
 been insensible to the kindness he had expe- 
 rienced. She reminded him of the interest she 
 had taken in his fortunes, and would continue to 
 take, if, as she confidently hoped, he should by 
 his fidelity and attachment continue to merit it. 
 
 O'Neil made suitable acknowledgments and 
 professions, and took his leave. 
 
 He now resolved to make a short excursion 
 into Kent^ to visit the families of his friends 
 Bagnal and Montfort, and to indulge himself 
 with some quiet observation upon the state of 
 English society in the middle and lower classes 
 of rural life. 
 
 As he travelled leisurely on horseback, he 
 had time to observe the superior degree of neat- 
 ness and comfort which marked the dwellings, 
 the persons, and the habits of the jieople c^
 
 THE ADVENTURERfJ. t^ 
 
 England, over the same classes in his own coun- 
 try. He could compare die cleanliness fintl 
 accommodations of English cottages and farm- 
 houses with the rude huts of his own peo})le: 
 and the well-ordered suite of society, where 
 every thing found its place without difficulty 
 or confusion, to the unsettled habits and con- 
 tinual struggle which prevailed in the land of 
 his fathers. But O'Neil, though he was aware 
 of the individual comfort and the political 
 power which were the results of this perfect ar- 
 rangement, considered these advantages as more 
 than counterbalanced by the restraints which it 
 appeared to him to impose. He had lived in 
 English society, and enjoyed all the luxuries 
 which an advanced stage of cultivation afford ; 
 but he had never ceased to regret the free- 
 dom of his paternal hills, where life was not 
 converted into labour, and its most precious 
 enjoyments sacrificed to the mode and manner 
 of living. 
 
 Man, in English society, appeared to him to 
 be merely part of a machine, which worked in- 
 deed gloriously, and with wondrous eflect, in 
 producing a general result, The nation as a 
 whole rose into grandeur and power, but the in- 
 dividual was sacrificed. He was confirmed in 
 £ 4.
 
 80 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 these opinions by his observations upon the 
 lower classes, with whom he took every oppor- 
 tunity to converse. He found them generally 
 very inferior in intelligence and acuteness to 
 the same classes in his own country ; and, 
 in his opinion, they had also much less en- 
 joyment of life. Care, he thought, sat brooding 
 upon every brow, or had its talons infixed 
 in the heart. He saw none of the light-hearted 
 merriment of his clansmen, and he doubted 
 whether any art or system could subdue the 
 Irish character into the regulated mechanism of 
 English life. 
 
 What O'Neil considered as a fault in the or- 
 ganization of English society, has since his time 
 gone on to increase the power and augment the 
 resources of the British empire. The fault 
 also, if it be one, has become more decided and 
 inveterate. It is probably true, that in the ad- 
 vance of civilization and improvement, the lower 
 orders and the mechanical portion of the com- 
 munity suffer some loss of that intelligence which 
 belongs to the lialf savage state, and perhaps 
 also of those natural enjoyments which are after 
 all the most valuable. But, if so, the sufferings 
 of these classes are compensated, perhaps, by the 
 advantages derived to others. The diificulty
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 81 
 
 ^( which it is possible may be solved in after ages) 
 ^s to find the means of combining the benefits of 
 
 a highly wrought civilization with the ease and 
 
 freedom of a ruder state of society. 
 
 E 6
 
 99 THE ADVENTUREUS. 
 
 chaptp:r v. 
 
 It was late in the evening of a fine summer's 
 day when O'Neil arrived at the village of 
 Kenry, which consisted of a single street, ter- 
 minated at one end by a narrow bridge, which 
 crossed a considerable brook, and at the other, 
 where the road turned suddenly to the right, 
 by a large gateway, the lofty pillars of which 
 were surmounted by huge globes of stone, co- 
 vered with moss and weeds. On passing the 
 bridge by which you entered the village, the 
 anjjle made bv the road was concealed from the 
 eye of the traveller, and he could only suppose 
 that his way lay through the great gate before 
 him, which stood invitingly open, and had the 
 ap})earance of never being closed. 
 
 As O'Neil rode slowly up the long street 
 of Kenry, he was able to perceive that an 
 avenue extended beyond the gate, ornamented 
 on each side by a double row of fine elms. The 
 avenue was paved, and the grass which in-
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 8S 
 
 lersected the stones showed that it enjoyed 
 profound repose. 
 
 The village seemed lapped in the same most 
 exquisite luxury of tranquillity ; it had no 
 sign of animation, except the smoke which 
 streamed upwards lazily from the cottage chim- 
 nies in perpendicular columns, with a tremu- 
 lous motion, as if unable to support itself, and 
 more than half inclined to fall back upon the 
 cottages. The houses consisted of two low 
 stories, the upper projecting to the front over the 
 under, and built some entirely of timber, and 
 some with a timber frame-work onl}-, filled up 
 with brick, or lath and plaster. They were 
 roofed with red tiles, and each house was or- 
 namented with a little garden in front, kept with 
 much neatness. The street, which was wide, 
 had a few scattered elms of a very old growth, 
 which appeared to be the survivors of a greater 
 number that had once decorated, perhaps, both 
 sides of the village. 
 
 O'Neil stopjied at the Kniry Hotel ; and lie was 
 received by the landlord with great courtesy. 
 He was an old man, in a linen jerkin, with a 
 white head, ruddy cheeks, and blue apron. 
 The landlord of the Swan at Kenry united va- 
 rious occupations ; he was butcher, beadle, and 
 E 6
 
 84- THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 inn-keeper, and ihoiiglit hiinseinully warranteil 
 by all these important offices to enquire the 
 business and pursuits of his guests. Accord- 
 inglv, he lost no time in demanding ofO'Neil, 
 what l)rt)iight liim to Kenry in Kent ? In his 
 own incjuisitive island O'Neil had learned that 
 the easiest and shortest course, when there is 
 no reason to the contrary, is to state the fact in 
 the first instance ; and he replied, that he came 
 to pay a visit to Squire Bagnal of the Close. 
 The inn-keeper bowed low, and changing the 
 tone of his interrogatory, begged to know how 
 long he was accjuainted w ith the Squire ? 
 O'Neil parried this enquiry, and several others 
 that followed, and speedily convinced the oracle 
 of Kenry that he had no novice to deal with. 
 
 Curiosity in England is rude, direct, and 
 inartificial, the enquirer asks his question with 
 an air of authority, or of stupid insolence. In 
 Ireland the querist will survey the subject of 
 his purposed interrogatories with an eye full 
 of tact and sagacity, and having discovered, or 
 believing he has discovered, the weak point he 
 sought for, he commences his approaches with 
 great caution and address, making various feints 
 and an abundant show of simplicity and gootl 
 liumour, which it is not always easy to resist
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 85 
 
 or baffle. After having foiled the good man ol 
 the Swan, O'Neil was disposed to turn the at- 
 tack upon his assailant, and make some en(|ui- 
 ries respecting the neighbourhood of Kenry, 
 and the family at the Close. But it was already 
 late, and he thought it better to defer his pur- 
 pose till next day ; he, therefore, merely asked 
 the direction to the Close, and was informed 
 that his way lay through the great gate at the 
 end of the street, and that the avenue of elms 
 would bring him to the house. " There is an- 
 other way over the style by the brook below," 
 said his landlord, " but I would not recommend 
 it, seeing it is getting late, and it is somewhat long 
 and round-about, but it is a natty way thouorh." 
 O'Neil replied that he would dispense with the 
 convenience of the " round-about natty way," 
 and take the shorter course. 
 
 Tlie gate was still open, and he found the 
 elms which guarded the avenue to be worthy 
 to show the way to a nobler habitation than he 
 had been taught to expect at the Close ; when 
 he reached the termination of this fine ap- 
 proach, he found himself in a furm-yard sur- 
 rounded by low buildings and ofHces, near 
 which he could discover nothing like a gentle- 
 man's habitation, nor a habitation of any kind,
 
 86 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 save lor the four-footed creation. He stood 
 for some time to consider how he .sliouid pru- 
 cee<l, but not discernin«^ in this wide enclosure 
 any two-footed creature without feathers, he 
 was resolved to make a search ; most of the 
 offices were open, and, after some time spent in 
 close examination, he found an old woman in a 
 shed hardly large enough to contain a middle 
 size pig ; but she was not a two-footed creature 
 without feathers, for she was buried in an ocean of 
 them, and was in the act of adding to the inunda- 
 tion that swelled around her, by an active process 
 performed on the dead body of a goose. O'Neil 
 (lemanoed of this fair cme by what means he 
 was to arrive at Mr. Bagnal's habitation? But 
 the old woman in her cave, like Diogenes in his 
 tub, seemed insensible to the rank or dignity of 
 her visitor, and replied to his en(juiry by de- 
 siring, in no harmonious accent, " that he would 
 stand out of her light." It was certain that 
 the light was dim, and that O'Neil unavoidablv 
 obstructed some of it; he accordingly apolo- 
 rrized for the inconvenience he occasioned, and 
 begged again to know how he was to find his 
 way to the house, which he supposed must be 
 somewhere near, but his politeness was lost 
 upon the human animal in the ^len : she only 
 raised her voice to a shriller key or slirirk, and
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 87 
 
 with various muttered maledictions bade him 
 " not stoj) up tlie liglit." The noise the uld 
 woman made brought a third l)arty, who seemed 
 to have shd down as if by ma«ric tVom some 
 place overhead: it was a man or boy, for O'Neil 
 could not well discern which; but he was so low 
 and fat that he seemed rather to roll about like 
 a foot-ball than to walk like a human being : 
 whatever it was, the creature addressed the te- 
 nant of the den in a sharp tone but unintelli- 
 gible dialect, which seemed to produce an in- 
 stantaneous effect, for she rose from out her 
 habitation, and presented herself before O'Neil, 
 and at the same instant the fat manikin disap- 
 peared with the same velocity with which he 
 had descended from above. 
 
 The old woman was dressed in tattered ^av- 
 ments of all colours, richly embroidered with 
 goose feathers; her hair, which stieamed in 
 long and tangled ringlets over her head and 
 shoulders, was thickly powdered with the same 
 material, while the goose-down fringed her grey 
 eyes, and sat thick upon her }irotriKled lip. 
 O'Neil again asked to be shown to the hoube. 
 and was answered by some low and indistinct 
 sounds, and, laying down a half-picked fowl 
 which she held in her hand, she led the way to
 
 88 Tin: adventuiierb. 
 
 a small door in an angle of the high wall which 
 l)oun(le(l one side of the yard ; having opened 
 the door, she pointed to the stranger to go on, 
 and returned to her work. 
 
 There was still light enough to permit the 
 traveller to see that the view which now pre- 
 sented itself was very beautiful. The mansion- 
 house of Bagnal's Close stood considerably 
 below him, on the side of a declivity, and this 
 was the reason why it could not be discerned 
 from the farm-yard, which occupied the summit 
 of the hill, and was enclosed by a high wall. 
 The house was a large, irregular, low building, 
 with a variety of angles in the roof and in the 
 circumference, but it was picturesque, and all 
 about it was neat and even elegant. A wind- 
 ing })athway, bordered with flowers, led from 
 the door where O'Neil still stood, by a gentle 
 descent to the house. From the house the 
 ground still descended, though more gradually, 
 until it stretched away to the eastward, forming 
 an extensive plain, intersected with hedge-rows 
 and plantations, and studded with cottages just 
 visible, each in its nest of trees, from amongst 
 whicli the smoke of " supper" every where 
 ascended. In the lowest level of this peaceful 
 scene, the beautiful brook he had crossed on
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 89 
 
 entering the village lay slumbering, as if it also 
 felt that this was the hour of repose. There 
 was not a ripple upon its bright bosom. 
 
 O'Xeil was a married man, a circumstance 
 which we had not time nor opportunity to state 
 before, and which unlucky fact is only now 
 brought to our mind by all the soft " appliances 
 and means to boot," which the landscape round 
 Bagnal's Close afforded for a tender romance, 
 if one could but be, by any means, contrived. 
 But there is no jxettinfj over the obstacle of a 
 wife ; and O'Neil had one. 
 
 O'Neil was married young to the daughter 
 of Sir Owen O'Toole. This chieftain had long 
 lived in the utmost harmony with the English 
 government ; by whom, at the instance of Sir 
 John Perrot, he had been knighted. Sir Owen 
 was lord of the hills and vales of Wicklow, 
 and his ancient castle looked down over the 
 beauteous domains, since called Powerscourt. 
 In these delicious scenes, laid out by nature in 
 her most tasteful mood, O'Neil, some years 
 before the period we are speaking of, met his 
 lovely wife. She was the spoiled child of the 
 old and fanciful knight, and beautiful as spoiled. 
 Her own paradise at Wicklow Castle was not 
 more beautiful than Eva O'Toole ; and she was
 
 90 THE ADVEKTURERS. 
 
 light and wild as the fawn that bounded over 
 the woodhinds. They both loved, — were mar- 
 ried, — and, ere long, were separated. Tlie cause 
 or causes of separation were never well ex- 
 plained. But it was said, that his young wife 
 was of an imperious and uncompromising cha- 
 racter, and could not brook the delays and 
 refinements of her husband's policy towards 
 the Saxons. These she considered to be mere 
 pusillanimity, and held them in contempt. 
 
 O'Neil, on the other hand, was peremptory, 
 and would not permit to be questioned the man- 
 agement which he considered indispensable. The 
 daughter of O'Toole had no place in her vocabu- 
 lary for the omnipotent term expedicTicy^ and all 
 who bowed before this god of the Saxons, as 
 she called it, were to her an abomination. She 
 would not even by this criminal idolatry pur- 
 chase triumph and revenge. O'Neil admired 
 his wife, even in her very differences from him ; 
 he looked upon her system of morals and po- 
 litics as sometliing sublime and impracticable ; 
 and she loved her husband beyond her own exist- 
 ence, while she considered his policy a,s mean, 
 contemptible, and ultimately ruinous. 
 
 His activity in the Desmond war froze her 
 heart towards him. The Earl of Desmond was
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 91 
 
 related to the O'Tooles, and the warm and im- 
 petuous bosom of tlie heiress of Wicklow 
 could admit no excuse for the man, though he 
 •vvere her own husband, who could persecute 
 her kindred. After this she would not see him. 
 And when the tragical death of Desmond, — 
 brave, noble, and full of years, — was followed 
 by die treacherous and horrible execution of 
 her own father, and the rapacious seizure of his 
 fine domains ; and still her husband, the loved, 
 the admired O'Neil, contiimed in the ranks of 
 the enemy, — it was too much. A long fit of 
 illness was the effect of these heavy calamities. 
 The struggle of pride and principle with the 
 rooted and cherished affections of the heart 
 was terrible, and brought her near to the grave. 
 But youth and a fine constitution triumphed, 
 and she arose at length from her sick bed with 
 a tranquil bosom and a pale cheek, — the struggle 
 vva.s at an end, — her husband was renounced, 
 but health and happiness were gone for ever. 
 The youthful and beautiful Lady O'Neil had 
 made her residence in a lonely glen in Leitrim ; 
 and wandered, like a stricken deer, amongst the 
 woods and solitudes of that romantic region, 
 avoiding all intercourse with the world, and 
 shunning the footsteps of her own kindred oi
 
 92 THE ADVENTIUEHS. 
 
 CNuils, and above all, of tiiu Saxons, as if there 
 was agony in the neighbourliood of the spoilers. 
 
 O'Neil sought no reconcilement with his wife. 
 He was offended with her renunciation of him, 
 and more perhaps with her disdain and con- 
 tempt of his policy, when he condescended to 
 explain it. He knew her lofty and uncom- 
 promising spirit, and felt how impossible it was 
 to have her concurrence in the plans he had 
 laid down for himself, and that the effort to 
 keep on good terms with her would only em- 
 barrass and obstruct him in his course. Still 
 thase unfortunate persons loved each other; 
 but the solitude of the glens of Leitrim was 
 more favourable to the preservation of the 
 sacred fire, which so many calamities had in 
 vain sought to extinguish, than the bustle of a 
 cam}), or the tunmlt of battle. Perhaps, too, 
 there is something in the nature of the female 
 affections, which makes a true impression, when 
 once made, indelible and ineffjiceable by the 
 rudest corrosion of the world. War, intrigue, 
 and ambition had made O'Neil almost forget 
 his wife. But his letter of introduction at 
 Bagnal's Close announced him to be a married 
 man. 
 
 He was received with the utmost cordiality
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 93 
 
 by Mr. Bagnal of the Close, the elder brother 
 of the Irish adventurer, and by Mrs. and Miss 
 Bagnal, his mother and sister. Mr. Bngnal was 
 a middle aged man, stout, and low of stature, 
 and florid complexion. His countenance be- 
 spoke good humour, and his conversation showed 
 that he was not deficient in natural sagacity. 
 Mrs. Bagnal looked young to be the mother of 
 this resi)ectable gentleman. Her manner had 
 in it a degree of simplicity perfectly consistent 
 with good sense, but which seemed to indicate 
 that she had passed through life with little 
 annoyance, and without becoming acquainted 
 with, or suffering by, much of the fraud or 
 faithlessness of the world. 
 
 Miss Bagnal was the youngest of the family, 
 and had nearly attained that age which the law 
 accounts, — how justly ! — to be the age of wisdom 
 in both sexes. Like her mother, she possessed 
 great simplicity of character, hut with more 
 elevation of mind. 
 
 Lucy J bagnal was the most cultivated of her 
 faniilv. She was ac(|uainted with all the litera- 
 ture of the age, and even with its pugnacious 
 theology, and though a rigid Protestant, she 
 owed much of her most valuable information 
 to a priest of the church of Kome. The priest
 
 *54 I hi; .\f)\ KN'nHKns. 
 
 was a man of amiable character, and liad been, 
 before ^Elizabeth's father razed the proud struc- 
 ture of the Romish power, superior of the con- 
 vent of Pallas-Kenry, and as a landlord and a 
 priest he was respected and beloved for tht 
 gentleness and humanity of his conduct. Though 
 living in a bigoted age he was not bigoted, 
 and never attempted to medtlle with the reli- 
 gious faith of his pupil. Father Eustace pro- 
 fessed to teach the learned languages, Italian, 
 ajid mathematics, and though his pupil had ac- 
 quired a competent proficiency in these studies, 
 then not uncommon for females of good families 
 in England, yet it was chiefly from the convers- 
 ation of the good father that her mind derived 
 its most precious aliment. 
 
 Respect for her excellent instructor preserved 
 Lucy Bagnal from being tainted with the vulgar 
 rage against popery which marked Elizabeth's 
 reign. While she rejected the doctrines of the 
 church of Rome, she was ecjually free from the 
 fanaticism of the new converts. 
 
 O'Neil was received by the sister of his friend 
 with particular interest and kindness ; and, as a 
 married man, she felt, perhaps, less reserve 
 than she would have done towards a handsome 
 bachelor. She was, besides, not a little delighted
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 96 
 
 to see and converse with a real Irishman, at 
 that time a greater curiosity in England than 
 since, — and that he was a chieftain, too, of so 
 extraordinary a race, added to the extreme in- 
 terest of this uncommon occurrence. 
 
 It is true that she did not expect to meet with 
 those outlandish manners and barbarous cus- 
 toms, then generally attributed to the Irish, and 
 which were the subject of general conversation, 
 at that period, in England. She knew that 
 O'Xeil had been long accustomed to English 
 society, and held a high rank in the British 
 army ; and she had been long since disabused by 
 Father Eustace on the subject of the natural 
 monstrosity of wings, so generally attributed to 
 the people of Ireland of all ranks. Miss 
 Bagnal had given up the wings some years be- 
 fore, with some reluctance, and consented to 
 look upon the Irish as mere common-place 
 hrutta. It is certain, however, that she thought 
 the better of them for wanting these appendages, 
 though why, is rather unaccountable. Had the 
 Irish possessed wings, they would have been 
 •superior to all others of the human race, and 
 have nearly resembled the angels as they are 
 represented in ihe pictures; but this supposed 
 resemblance was imputed to them in England,
 
 96 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 by some strange intellectual blunder, as prool- 
 positive of the last degree of barbarity. 
 
 She was prepared, therefore, to see in O'Neil 
 neither tlie lusiis iiaturcc (Miss Bagnal under- 
 stood Latin) with wings, nor tlie rough hewn 
 savage from the rock of the desert ; but some- 
 thing still more astonishing — the rude granite, 
 chiseled into some strange and wonderful shape 
 of refinement, and by the very attempt (she was 
 convinced) only rendered the more comical and 
 extraordinary. 
 
 O'Neil arrived as supper was laid on the 
 table ; and as he hapjiened to have a keen appe- 
 tite, and the supper being a very substantial one, 
 all that Miss Bagnal could remark was that the 
 stranger seemed particularly partial to cold roast 
 beef and claret. Before he had retired for the 
 night, however, she contrived to observe that he 
 had a very fine countenance, with an air of deci- 
 sion and authority, not concealed, but softened 
 by a smile fidl of courtesy. 
 
 His demeanour was calm and easy, but she 
 thought she could })erceive uiukr all these 
 bafHing appearances, that there was an unsteadi- 
 ness in his dark eye, changing from rapid anil 
 piercing glances of fire to an expression full of 
 gaiety and joyousness, and then melting away
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 97 
 
 into melancholy or subsiding into vacancy. All 
 these changes, she thought, discovered the 
 varying mood of the innate savage. O'Xeil was 
 iiungry, thirsty, and fatigued, and had not time to 
 remark how much he was the subject of observ- 
 ation, and he retired to rest with only a very 
 cursory notice of his kind host, and only as 
 much attention to the ladies as his habitual 
 politeness demanded. 
 
 He rose in the morning early and refreshed ; 
 and employed an hour before breakfast in stroll- 
 ing about the grounds at Bagnal's Close. The 
 morning's landscape was not inferior to that 
 of the evening. There was a gentle breeze ; 
 and the brook in the lowland was dancing 
 in the sunbeam. The whole scene was ftiU of 
 life and animation ; the peasants were employed 
 in the fields, some carting in the corn to the 
 haggarts, some making it into stacks; the maidens 
 were milking die cows, and singing to the quiet 
 animals they tended ; — and here and there a 
 shrill soft note was heard calling the labourers 
 to breakfast. 
 
 From tlie farm yard, where the great avenue 
 of elms terminated, an extensive wood of fine 
 oaks ran along the summit of the hill in the 
 rear, and on the sides of the house, or 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 large cottage, denominated the Close, and 
 afforded a comfortable shelter. In pursuing a 
 path through this wood, which he thought 
 might have led him to the garden, O'Neil found 
 hmiself suddenly at a stile which conducted him 
 to the village of Kenry. He crossed the stile 
 and walked into the village.
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 99 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 He found this small community in great com- 
 motion. A crowd was collected at the door of 
 the inn where he had stopped the night before, 
 and he discerned his acquaintance, Johnny 
 Noseum, in the midst of it, harangumg the 
 neighbours with great energy, and an air full of 
 business and importance. CNeil joined the 
 crowd, and enquired the cause of the disturb- 
 ance ; he learned that a very extensive and suc- 
 cessful attack had been made during the night - 
 upon the poultry, sheep, and other loose articles 
 belonging to the villagers. The country, he 
 was informed, was by no means in a state of 
 perfect tranquillity, owing to the great number 
 of vagrants and idle persons, who, since the 
 suppression of the Abbey of Pallas Kenry, and 
 other neighbouring convents, had been left des- 
 titute, and without any other resource than 
 theft or casual charity. The latter resource was 
 altogether inadequate, and the former was oc- 
 F 2
 
 100 THE ADVENTUHERS. 
 
 casionally resorted to. The deprt'dations upon 
 the country had kitterly become very formida- 
 ble, and the chief constable and a large party of 
 the hundredors were now preparing to set out 
 in pursuit of the marauders. 
 
 Squire Bagnal's gear, it seemed, had escaped 
 uninjured in this attack upon the loose pro- 
 perty of the village; and O'Neil found that 
 this was attributed to the influence of the old 
 priest, who, it a}ipeared, had considerable au- 
 thority with the depredators in question, most of 
 whom were of the old religious persuasion ; 
 and this authority, it was said, was used for the 
 protection of his patron at the Close. 
 
 When O'Neil enquired if these poor vagrants 
 could not find some honest employment, he was 
 answered by his ruddy host at the Swan, — 
 " Lord bless your heart, no ! — there's no work 
 for them there rogues, or even for honest peo- 
 ple now-a-days. In my younger days, when 
 Mrs. Noseum was living, God rest her soul ! 
 there was work for every one that wanted it, 
 and good payment for it too. But now, what 
 with marrying and having children, Lord de- 
 liver us ! the country is so full of people, there's 
 neither food nor occupation for them, and if it
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 101 
 
 was not for the Irish wars we should never be 
 able to get on, or to provide for our families.'* 
 
 " You send them to be knocked on the head 
 in Ireland — a good provision." 
 
 " Na, Sir, we send them to catch a bit 
 of the rich lands of the Papists in an honest 
 way ; and if they are knocked on the head, in 
 cleansing that poor country from the filth of pa- 
 pistry and the abomination of the Lady of Ba- 
 bylon, they die in a good cause." 
 
 " It is a comfortable cause at least, in which 
 you are sure of a reward in this world or in the 
 next. But what injury did the Irish Papists do 
 you, my friend, that you should think your idle 
 fellows justified in robbing them of their lands; 
 and sure of heaven if they fail in the attempt ?" 
 
 The man stared at the question — and only re- 
 plied — whew — whew; and while he seemed 
 recovering from his astonishment, O'Neil pro- 
 ceeded ; — " Have you not land enough here for 
 all your people, without sending them beyond 
 sea to take the lands of their neighbours at the 
 point of the sword ?" 
 
 " Land enough ! God help you, no ; — not 
 enough to support us as we used to be. The 
 neighbours that, when I was married to Alice, 
 F 3
 
 102 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 used to come of an evening and spend a penny 
 at the Swan, what with families growing up 
 about them, and dividing their farms with their 
 sons and grandsons, haven't now a penny to 
 spare, and then the Popish rogues that used to 
 be fed at the convents, are turned loose upon 
 the poor people, and will eat us all up I am 
 afraid." 
 
 " And you are therefore compelled, in your 
 own defence, to make war upon the Irish ?" 
 
 " Exactly — but the Irish are Papists." 
 
 *' And how long, friend, since the theolo- 
 gians of Kenry discovered the errors of their 
 old creed ?" 
 
 " Do you see, Sir, we were all tenants to the 
 Abbots of Pallas Kenry, for some miles round, 
 and good landlords they were, to say the truth, 
 and easier to deal with, perhaps, than some of 
 our masters now-a-days ; but King Henry that's 
 dead, God rest his soul, fell out with the Pope, 
 and with the Abbots all over the kingdom ; and 
 then he made it up with them again ; and then 
 there came another rumpus about his wives, 
 seeing that he had a strange fancy for cutting off 
 the poor things' heads ; and we were obliged to 
 twist about again, and instead of doffing our 
 caps to tlie Abbot and begging his blessing, we
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 103 
 
 got together in the barn below, and cursed the 
 Abbot and the Pope according to the order o\ 
 the justices, and some of us thought (poor sim- 
 pletons) that we were to have our farms now 
 free of rent for the future ; but after all our 
 twisting and capering about, between the King 
 and the Pope, according to his majesty's fancy ; 
 down came Lord Hotpepper to Kenry one 
 morning, with a grant, as he called it, of all the 
 abbey land, and we are now obhged to pay rent 
 to his Lordship's agent, Mr. Peter Kite, who is 
 not easy to please by the bye." 
 
 " You changed your religion by his majesty's 
 command, in the hope of getting free farms, 
 and you were disappointed ?" 
 
 " Yes, sure; so it was." 
 
 O'Neil now broke off his conversation with 
 the oracle of the village of Kenry, and returned 
 to the Close, where he found the family assem- 
 bled to breakfast, and the same subject imder 
 discussion as in the crowd at the inn-keeper's 
 door ; viz. the depredations of the vagrants over 
 night, and the number of idle and unprovided 
 people in the country, and though there was 
 some difference in the manner of treating the 
 subject, the basis of opinion was pretty nearly 
 the same in both places. 
 F ^
 
 104- THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 It was agreed, that the state of tlie country 
 was lamentable; that there was neither food 
 nor occupation* for the people, since the sup- 
 pression of the abbies ; and that but for the re- 
 lief which the Irish wars ailbrded, there would be 
 no possibility of living in the country. In talking 
 oftliis resource, the family at Bagnal's Close 
 were little restrained by the presence of O'Neil, 
 whom they considered, spite of his name and 
 lineage, as altogether of the English party. The 
 two ladies indeed, seemed to feel some- 
 what for the old priest, who was seated at the 
 breakfast-table, and whose mild manners made 
 him ever a welcome guest. But the squire 
 took no farther notice of him, than occasionally 
 to refer to him, with a good-humoured laugh, 
 as an authority against his own church, when 
 he was pleased to make any charge against it 
 The Abbot, who seemed not unused to these 
 attacks, parried them with great meekness and 
 address ; and when the squire was too coarse or 
 too severe, Mrs. Bagnal never failed to make a 
 diversion in his favour. 
 
 « We should be lost, Mr. O'Neil," said the 
 Squire, ** but for these Irish wars that carry off 
 all our idle rascals."
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 10.3 
 
 " Bat I am told that ipnr house would he 
 safe," said O'Neil, " eveuthough you had not this 
 lucky seaton of an Irish war in the extremity of 
 the empire." 
 
 " A seaton, ha ! ha ! so it is egad ; but though 
 father Eustace does help us a bit, I think that 
 even he would fail in the long run without the 
 seaton. And then your wars have not only the 
 effect of carrying off the bad humours amongst 
 us, but of putting flesh also upon our bare bones, 
 Mr. O'Neil." 
 
 " How do you mean, brother ?" said Miss 
 Bagnal. 
 
 *' Why you know that some of our best fami- 
 lies have been living upon spare diet; and have 
 got rather lank lately ; and now we send out 
 the junior branches to fatten upon the rich lands 
 in Ireland, and to grow plump with forfeitures 
 and confiscations : egad, Mr. O'Neil, if many 
 of vour countrymen were, like you, to join the 
 Queen*s party, it would be worse for our pa- 
 trician families than even the want of a seaton." 
 
 " We are a kind-hearted people, s(juire," said 
 O'Neil, "and there is no danger that we should 
 withdraw so essential an aid from our good 
 neighbours in Britain." 
 
 F 5
 
 106 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 The Squire did not seem to comprehend: — 
 
 " And if we should be so very ungenerous," 
 continued O'Neil, "you English gentlemen have 
 a sure method of counteracting the mischief." 
 
 " How is that ?" 
 
 " We are as irritable and impatient as we are 
 good-natured ; and if a man should be so un- 
 reasonable as to endeavour to preserve both 
 his loyalty and estate, it will be easy, with a 
 little management and some insult, skilfully 
 applied, to trick him out of both." 
 " No doubt of it," said the Squire gravely, "and 
 in the end it is doing good to all : it is ridding 
 that poor country of the filth of papisti-y, and 
 planting it with loyal and civilized inhabitants, 
 while it renews, in a manner, the families of our 
 decayed gentry." 
 
 " The last is a very substantial reason." 
 
 There was something in the tone of this, and 
 some other of O'Neil's observations which the 
 Squire did not perfectly like or comprehend ; he 
 therefore changed the conversation, and talked 
 of indifferent matters. 
 
 " I have taken the deepest interest in your 
 country, Mr. O'Neil," said Miss Bagnal, " since 
 my brother went there, which his letters have al- 
 most excited into a passion. And although he is
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 107 
 
 not generally favourable to your countrj^men, yet 
 all the facts and details which he has furnished 
 me with tend rather to lead my mind to an op- 
 posite conclusion from that which he proposed. 
 1 tiiink, with all their peculiarities, the Irish are 
 an injured people." 
 
 " My country has not been fortunate for a 
 long period," said O'Neil. " Nations, like indi- 
 viduals, have their seasons of calamity ; but it 
 is happy at least in your sympathy." 
 
 " The sympathy of a poor country girl Hke 
 me, is of little value to it; but I have a wild no- 
 tion of visiting your strange country, now that 
 my brother has obtained rank, and he tells me 
 he has quite a princely residence on the banks 
 of some great river or lake. And now you are 
 at peace in Ireland, and likely to continue tran- 
 quil for a long time I hope." 
 
 " I hope so too, and that nothing will occur 
 to prevent or to disturb your travels in Ireland." 
 
 " Oh ! I have been a great traveller in ima- 
 gination, and have journeyed in thought over the 
 remotest regions of the earth : I have wandered 
 widi the Arabs over their sandy desarts, and 
 dwelt in the tents of the Tartars upon the great 
 Steppes of Asia." 
 
 '' After travels upon such a grand scale as 
 F 6
 
 108 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 these, I fear my poor couiitry would ^n-catly 
 disappoint you, Miss Bagnal." 
 
 " No, it would suit me exactly to begin with: 
 you are, you know, a little Asiatic, as I am told, 
 and a little romantic, and a little wild and sa- 
 vage, — you will pardon me, — but I say it rather 
 in commendation, fori never liked tame things; 
 and I like though I shudder at wild ones." 
 
 " Well, I agree with you ; I do think we 
 should suit your taste tolerably well, provided 
 always it were to continue; but there is a 
 wide difference between wildness in the visions 
 of fancy and in the scenes of nature ; a long ac- 
 quaintance with the former but increases their 
 power over us ; familiarity with the latter soon 
 destroys their empire." 
 
 *' I don't fear this result ; at all events I 
 would willingly try ; and I have almost persuaded 
 my mother and brother into compliance." 
 
 " Mr. O'Neil," said Mrs. Ragiial, " we were 
 talking on the subject before you came in ; 
 and as Henry has invited his sister to visit him, 
 and has attained to such a respectable rank in 
 the world, I don't see any thing very much 
 against Lucy's going to see him, now that the 
 war is over, except the great distance, and the 
 danger of the voyage ; — and to part with my
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 109 
 
 Lucy, (a tear filled her eye,) — Lucy has never 
 been from her mother before." 
 
 " I feel and respect this obstacle, my dear 
 Madam, but it is the only jeal one ; there is 
 neither danger in the voyage nor great length in 
 the journey." 
 
 " I do not know what to think of this pro- 
 ject, Mr. O'Neil," said the Squire. " I am no 
 traveller in fancy nor in reality, and would 
 never wish to extend my researches beyond 
 Bagnal's Close and its environs; such things 
 don'i suit me, you see ; I like to be somebody, 
 and I am somebody here, but what would Jack 
 Bagnal be any where else in the world ? If I 
 walk beyond the stile into Kenry, there is not 
 a man I meet that will not take off his hat to 
 me, the very dogs of the village will sneak from 
 the cottage doors and wag their tails to me, 
 and when I return home again, there is Grijxir 
 and Growler ready to s})ring on my very shoul- 
 ders, and my noble horse Bulo knows his master 
 as well as a very dog, and will kneel to take 
 me on his back, if 1 bid him. I can't go, mo- 
 ther ; — I can't go, sister ; indeed I can'u" 
 
 " I can appreciate your motives, Mr. Bagnal," 
 said O'Xeil ; " I think your arguments unan- 
 swerable, and that you should never emigrate
 
 110 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 from Bagnal's Close; but then, my dear sir, 
 your arguments only aj^ply to a permanent 
 emigration; a short excursion would have a 
 gcK^d effect ; it would vary the scene, and render 
 your own home on your return only the more 
 pleasant, and all your domestic enjoyments the 
 more precious. Growler and Griper would be 
 dearer than ever, the noble Bulo would be 
 nearer your heart, and you would feel the more 
 gratified by the courtesies of the good villagers 
 of Kenry and their dogs ; — in short, to feel 
 thoroughly the good things you possess, you 
 should consent to part with them for a season." 
 
 " Egad, there may be some sense in what 
 you say, sir. I'll consider of it." 
 
 Finally, the Scjuire was jiersuaded to agree 
 to the journey to Ireland ; and before breakfast 
 was over, some of the most important prelimi- 
 naries were discussed and arranged. O'Neil 
 undertook to act as guide to the travelling party, 
 and to conduct them in safety to Sir Henry 
 Bagnal's quarters. 
 
 After breakfast the Squire invited O'Neil to 
 look at his imp-ovcmrnfs^ his walks, })lantations, 
 gardens, and above all, his farm, the best culti- 
 vated and managed, he insisted, in all Kent. 
 His guest was not displeased to have an oppor-
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 1 1 1 
 
 tunity of observing an English squire in all his 
 glory, surveying the works of his own skill and 
 genius, and delighting in the little paradise of 
 comforts and prettinesses which he had created. 
 Bagnal's Close was perfect in its kind, and 
 might well justify some vain-glory in the pos- 
 sessor ; and O'Neil doubted for an instant, 
 whether the safe and tranquil enjoyments of 
 such a life were not far more precious than all 
 the splendor and perilous distinctions surround- 
 ing the dignity of The O'Neil. But one must 
 march the path of one's destiny, thought he, be 
 it for good or evil; mine lies in a high and 
 troubled region, and for weal or woe it must be 
 trodden ; and after all, can one escape from 
 embarrassments and annoyances in this world ? 
 perhaps I shall discover that there are some at 
 Bagnal's Close. It may happen that the labour 
 and anxiety are not greater in a contest for the 
 highest prizes of life, than where ale and cakes 
 only are distributed. With this soothing re- 
 flection, he set his heart at rest, and followed 
 his host through a winding path which led to 
 the garden. A small portion of the garden 
 was arranged in terraces, descending from the 
 east angle of the house until it met the stream, 
 which made a sudden turn, as if to visit this
 
 112 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 quiet spot before it was compelled to take its 
 course towards the noisy mill that awaited it at 
 the entrance of the village of Kenry. The gar- 
 den, when it reached the level ground, stretched 
 along the bank of the stream. It was large, 
 and kept very neatly, and its position upon the 
 little river afforded many advantages which 
 were carefully improved. Here they met Miss 
 Bagnal, who was busily engaged superintending 
 the labours of two little boys who assisted her 
 in her garden work. 
 
 O'Neil paid Miss Bagnal the compliments 
 she merited upon the beauty and taste of her 
 garden. 
 
 " Aye," said the Squire, " it is all she 
 does, and it ought to be well done ; — but I 
 will leave you now to her guidance, she under- 
 stands all the perfections of the grounds and 
 gardens better than I do, and I will just step 
 and steal a look at the labourers; the knaves 
 will do nothing while I am away ; and I will be 
 back immediately to shew you what is better 
 worth looking at, the farm yard and stock, and 
 some of the best ploughing in Kent." 
 
 The S(|uire did not wait for reply or observ- 
 ation, but hurried off to his labourers, and Miss 
 Bagnal undertook the task of shewing the
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 1 1 3 
 
 trarden. After all the wonders of her taste 
 were properly displayed, and duly honoured 
 with commendation and applause, it was pro- 
 posed to walk. The principal walk in the 
 garden ran along the bank of the river, and 
 was ornamented on the side next the water 
 with various aquatic plants and trees which 
 dipt their long branches into the stream ; and 
 Miss Bagnal pointed out that this walk was 
 continued outside the garden stile, and followed, 
 for a considerable length of way, the windings 
 of the brook until it reached the ruined convent 
 of Pallas Kenry. 
 
 Now, if O'Neil were not unluckily a married 
 man, and Miss Bagnal apprised of that unto- 
 ward circumstance, here were a place and an 
 opportunity for the gentle affections to put forth 
 their soft tendrils in — a garden, the bank of a 
 rivulet, a warm sunny day in autumn, — a 
 young English lady reared up in great solitude, 
 and who seldom saw any gentleman but her 
 brother, the Squire, and the old priest who 
 superintended her studies, and one or two 
 neighbouring squires, who took less notice of 
 her than of her brother's draught horses. And 
 here was an Irish gentleman, accomplished,
 
 Ill- THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 liigh-born, and a soldier of great distinction ; 
 but, alas ! he was married. 
 
 Lucy Bagnal was a little above mi<.ldle size, 
 very fair, with dark brown hair in a proper 
 profusion of natural ringlets. She was hardly 
 what is called handsome, but her countenance 
 beamed with intelligence ; and when interested, 
 she became eloquent and animated, and might 
 then be pronounced beautiful. 
 
 The conversation at breakfast had disabused 
 Miss Bagnal of iier notion of the preceding 
 evening, respecting O'Neil's half savage nature, 
 and she was now inclined to go to the other 
 extreme, and to overrate his erudition and re- 
 finement. He had shown himself versed in 
 every subject to which she could allude, and 
 acquainted with a variety of knowledge to which 
 she was a stranger ; while his mode of treating 
 subjects had something in it that was piquant 
 and new to her. She had been accustomed to 
 look down upon her visitors and acquaintances 
 at the Close, all of whom were in reality very 
 inferior to her, even the old Abbot, from whom 
 she had learned so much, and who still sur- 
 passed her so greatly in his knowledge of the 
 learned languages, mathematics, divinity, &c., 
 she had some how or other acquired a notion
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 115 
 
 that she stood a little above him in natural ta- 
 lents and strength of mind. 
 
 But at breakfast with O'Neil she felt at once 
 that her boasted superiority was gone; she saw 
 in the turn of his countenance, in the glance of 
 his eye, in the light smile that played upon 
 his lip, and went and came incessantly, full of 
 half expressed meanings, that the depths of the 
 mind before her were past her sounding, while 
 her thoughts and attainments presented to his 
 examination nothing but shallows. 
 
 That O'Neil was a married man, as we have 
 already intimated, if it took away from the in- 
 tercourse of the lady and gentleman some of 
 that deeper interest which attends the awaken- 
 ing of the passions and the play of an excited 
 imagination, it gave at least more freedom, and 
 made some amends by an unconstrained and 
 unembarrassed interchange of thought. 
 
 Miss Bagnal was a good walker, and they 
 walked on pleiisantly, admiring the beauty of 
 the views on both sides the river; — the highly 
 cultivated grounds, the neatness of the cot- 
 tages, the profound tranquillity of the scene, all 
 formed a contrast, in the mind of O'Neil, with 
 his own country. He dwelt with delight upon 
 the scenes around him, pointing out their beau-
 
 116 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 ties to his companion witli a force and eloquence 
 which made her think that she had never done 
 justice to them before. 
 
 " Alas, Miss Bagnal, is it a country sucli as 
 this that you are about to desert, and tluit 
 peaceful happy home," said he, pointing to the 
 " Close," (which a winding in the course of the 
 sti'cam brought now full before them, with its 
 guardian oaks in close array around it,) " and 
 for what? For such a country as mine? Oh, 
 you know not what a cluuige you will expe- 
 rience." 
 
 " It Is a strange fancy of mine, I suppose, 
 and I am sure you think it a foolish, perhaps 
 an unpardonable one ; but you have heard of 
 women's fancies, Mr. O'Neil, amongst the other 
 unaccountable phenomena of life; and I confess 
 I feel no temptation to give up my scheme, ex- 
 cept when I think of the burden and annoyance 
 we shall be to you." 
 
 O'Neil made the prc^per declarations upon 
 this head, which, unlike most declarations of the 
 sort, were perfectly sincere ; and Miss Bagnal 
 proceeded, — she had set her heart u|)on the 
 journey, and would not be easily deterred ; she 
 was used to all the scenery about the Close, 
 and notwithstanding its beautv, it beiran to
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. UT 
 
 wcarv lior; besitle she wanted to look at other 
 things than streams and woods, and rich fields 
 and cows, and English boors and tlieir cottages. 
 She wanted to see men and women of other 
 places and other countries. She had never 
 been five miles from the Close in her life, though 
 she had travelled the world over in books, and 
 knew every square and bazar in Bagdad, and 
 the whole route from Mecca to Medina. She 
 envied above all thinfjs the dervises who travel 
 about where they please, and the genii who fly 
 from land to land without being impeded by 
 bad roads and heavy vehicles, and the trouble- 
 some wants and necessities of the body. 
 
 " And pray, Miss Bagnal, were all those gay 
 excursions of the imagination made alone and 
 unaccompanied ?" 
 
 " Quite alone, I assure you, for I have never 
 yet met the hero of my romance ; he has been 
 laid asleep, I fancy, by some envious necro- 
 mancer for a thousand years in the bottom of 
 some deep dell, or unknown cavern." 
 
 " Well, perhaps, we may find the place of 
 his mysterious slumber in Ireland, and break 
 the spell of his enchantment as we journev 
 on."
 
 118 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 Miss Ba^nal lau^liccl, and shook her head. 
 
 " Nay, I shall not despair, for I know some- 
 thing of these witcheries, and have been in- 
 structed in all the goblinology of the North 
 of Ireland, which, I assure you, is very pro- 
 found." 
 
 " And pray who was your preceptor in this 
 enviable science ?" 
 
 " Oh, an ancient vassal of the house of Neil, 
 to whom I may, perhaps, introduce you in 
 Ireland. I am entitled by privilege of birth to 
 be admitted into the mysteries of all enchant- 
 ments and divinations, and instead of impeding 
 the course of the stars the presence of an O'Neil 
 facilitiites all the movements of magic." 
 
 " I shall be really quite frightened presently, 
 lest you should summon some spirit of the air 
 or the water, and " 
 
 " Don't be alarmed ; my skill in magic shall 
 only be employed at your command and in 
 your service; and we will first proceed to disen- 
 chant your hero, but you must describe him to 
 me, and then we will summon the envious de- 
 mons that have done this deed." 
 
 " Hush, hush, do not talk disrespectfully of 
 the genii, you do not know how near they may
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 119 
 
 be ;" and she looked as if in real alarm, while 
 an arch smile upon her countenance made her 
 companion doubt whether her alarm was any- 
 thing more than mere playfuhiess.
 
 120 TMK ADVLNTLUEKS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Miss Bagiial had lived so nuich with her own 
 musintrs, and with the poets and romancers of 
 Elizabeth's age throughout Europe, that the 
 sti-an<'e beings with which the narrow region of 
 taste and literature was then crowded, had as- 
 sumed a kind of reality in her apprehension. 
 Not that her judgment was at all imposed 
 upon ; she knew that these were but creations 
 of the imagination, but this knowledge was like 
 tliat of many persons who are tortured with 
 tlie fear of ghosts and apparitions on dark 
 ni'dits and in lonely places, and are not quieted 
 by the fullest conviction of the understanding, 
 that their fears are groundless and that they 
 tremble at shadows. 
 
 The conversation now turned upon the ro- 
 mances, and the voyages and travels almost, 
 equally fabulous, of that romantic age. O'Neil, 
 who was skilled in all the literature of the con- 
 tinent, found himself surpassed in this depart- 
 ment by his fair companion. It was a pleasure
 
 THK ADVENTURERS. 121 
 
 i>lie liiul never before enjoyed, to be able to 
 bring tbrtli her hidtleii stores of erudition, and 
 display them before one who could estimate 
 their value; her enthusiasm rose as she uu- 
 roileil the rich scroll of her solitary studies, 
 and bhe felt all the ecstacy of this highest of 
 enjoyments. 
 
 Nor was her pleasure much inferior when 
 she paused to listen to the observations of 
 O'Neil, as he pointed out tiie faults and extra- 
 vagancies of her favourite authors, and led her 
 gently to discourse upon the realities of life. 
 She had thought that these could never have 
 ac(|uired in her mind the interest and importance 
 with which he invested them. 
 
 Her life at Bagnal's Close had been a dead 
 calm ; like the bosom of a lake in the solitude 
 o{ the mountains, whose waters find no outlet 
 until the sun-beam calls them to heaven in glo- 
 rious exhalations. So, disdaining to mingle with 
 the world around her, the thoughts and musings 
 of the secluded student rose like painted clouds 
 into the regions of fancy. And the after life of 
 Miss Bagnal proved, what every one's life proves, 
 that there only is perfect happiness to be found ; 
 as tiie poor Negro conceives that Heaven is 
 but a dream, and all its happiness a vision, 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 122 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 to be impressed upon the cheated and deliprhted 
 imagination. 
 
 From this idea of the visionary quahty ot 
 happiness, the conversation of O'Neil, and the 
 new delight which that conversation inspired, 
 now served to recal her, though reluctant. 
 
 O'Neil was no romancer, but he could well 
 understand a character like that of his fair 
 companion, and he was rather disposed to ad- 
 mire her tiilents and the extent of her informa- 
 tion, than to quarrel with her visions. He felt, 
 indeed, the full force of that gratification so 
 innocently derived from the consciousness of 
 giving pleasure. 
 
 They had discussed the writers of Spain and 
 Provence, the giants and the dwarfs of the 
 unapproachable Poles, the wonders of Turkish 
 magnificence, and the dazzling splendours of 
 the Caliphs' courts ; when their walk terminated- 
 at the ruined abbey and its neat grave-yard, 
 A stile led from the walk into the church-yard. 
 
 " See here," said O'Neil, " the end of all our 
 romancing; it comes to this at length." 
 
 " It is the end of our romances indeed," said 
 Miss Bagnal, " but no romance." 
 
 " There are few grave grounds like this in 
 Ireland, Miss Bagnal ; our people have not
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 123 
 
 leisure to ornament tlie resting-places of the 
 dead. Our first families, I believe, can shew no 
 willows or violets upon their hasty graves." 
 
 " Are they so neglectful of the hallowed sod 
 that shrouds their deceased relations ? — that is 
 savage indeed." 
 
 " Our graves. Miss Bagnal, are opened too 
 often ; tliey are always fresh ; nothing has time 
 to grow upon them." 
 
 " I know, Mr. O'Neil, that your country has 
 been distracted with wars and commotions, which 
 I don't exactly understand ; but your family have 
 not suffered, I believe, and you, I know, enjoy 
 the distinction of being in the queen's service, 
 and high in her favour." 
 
 Miss Bagnal knew little or nothing of O'Neil's 
 history beyond what she stated, nor did it occur 
 to her that much was to be known ; and her 
 interest in her companion was not a little in- 
 creased when O'Neil was gradually led to unfold 
 the story of the high fortunes and remarkable 
 disasters of his race, in a strain of eloquence 
 calculated to impress a less excited imagination 
 than hers. Even before the bard of Avon drew 
 his strong and startling illustration, it was felt 
 and acknowledged that " the dangers he had 
 run" were ever a sure passport to the female 
 G 2
 
 121 TUF. AnvrNTIRERS. 
 
 heart, when mixed with higli ilcstTt ; a pass- 
 port the more readily acknowledged, tlie more 
 pure and amiable the heart at which it is pre- 
 sented. 
 
 O'Neil spoke nothing but the trutii. The 
 history of his family was itself a romance. But 
 he threw a veil over the darker portion of the 
 story, and shaded away many of those incidents 
 of violence and ferocity which, if put upon the 
 canvas, he felt would have shocked the pure 
 mind of his hearer, acquaintetl only with the 
 routine of a peaceful life. 
 
 " But you have acquired," said she, " full res- 
 titution of your family honors and estates ; let us 
 hope that the cup of your evil destiny is ex- 
 hausted ; nothing surely is now before you but 
 a long line of glory in the midst of a happy 
 family and an admiring country." 
 
 Miss Bagnal sighed gently as she drew this 
 fair picture ; and the thought involuntarily pre- 
 sented itself to her mind, that " If Heaven had 
 made her such a man" he would have been 
 the very hero of her romance. She then re- 
 ferred to the distinction with which he had 
 been received by the (jueen, his Earl's patent, 
 which she now heard of for the first time, — the 
 high command in Ulster widi which he had
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 1'25 
 
 been invested, and asked gaily, how he couki 
 imagine a happier lot if all the slaves of the 
 Lamp were at his service ? 
 
 " I do not complain," said O'Neil, "though it 
 is not all so smooth and fair as you have painted. 
 The state of Ireland is verj' unsettled though it 
 enjoys at present a momentary calm. But bright 
 as it seems, the small storm-cloud is in the dis- 
 tance, on the verge of the horizon ; and the 
 next gale of wind, from whatever quarter it may 
 blow, may expand it. My family are placed 
 too high not to \ye affected by whatever changes 
 occur. Our possessions are too great not to be 
 for ever an object of desire to the swarms of 
 needy adventurers which beset our shores. 
 When danger comes, thousands may escape it, 
 but not The O'Neil." 
 
 " \\'hat ! does the Earl of Tyrone so soon 
 despond ?" 
 
 " Xo, despondency is not my character ; but 
 in order to meet danger, we should be apprized 
 of it : as for that patent of earldom, I could 
 not refuse it, but it has embarrassed me, and 
 it will re(|uire all my address to prevent its 
 disgracing me in the eyes of my countrj'men." 
 
 " Well, your*s is a strange country, where an 
 Earl's coronet is considereil a disgrace." 
 G 3
 
 126 THE ADVENTl'REnS. 
 
 " It is SO accounted, lX'caus<.? in Ireland there 
 is no higher dignity than that of the O'Neil, 
 and to accept this title from the monarch is 
 understood to imply inferiority, and to l)c at 
 once a descending from the high rank of 
 chieftain and tanist, to the insignificant bearing 
 of a British peer. These are the notions, 
 or, if you will, the absurd prejudices of mf 
 countrymen." 
 
 During the latter part of this conversation 
 they were seated upon a little green bank in the 
 grave-yard, \^rhich seemed frequently to have 
 been used as a seat. Two immense willows 
 hung their long boughs overhead, and shadowed 
 them from the sun, which was now high in the 
 heavens. On one side was the dismantled 
 abbey, where havoc had done the work of time. 
 It had been but a small building, suited to the 
 seclusion of the spot, and its now melancholy 
 and ruinous appearance consorted with the 
 dreary aspect of mortality beneath its walls. 
 
 " The abbey," said Miss Bagnal, " once 
 sheltered this seat comfortably, but the wind 
 now makes its way through tlie broken windows 
 and cleft walls, and it is no longer so pleasant 
 as formerly."
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 127 
 
 " What advantage have the good people ot 
 Kenry gained by tliis exploit. Miss Bagnal ?" 
 
 " I really can't say ; they had not at first any 
 ill-will towards die abbott and friars of Pullas 
 Kenry, but they had been given to understand 
 that if the abbey were pulled down, and the 
 priests expelled, they would be suffered to hold 
 their farms rent free. This was too much lor 
 the sober knavery of our villiigers, and the 
 abbey was soon demolished, notwithstanding 
 that the abbot was a most indulgent landlord, 
 and the convent had ever been attentive to the 
 wants of the poor. The peo})le now, indeed, 
 feel the want of the abundant charities of the 
 convent. The gentry around are by no means 
 able to afford eitlier the leisure antl attention to 
 their wants, or the food or medicine which the 
 convent used to supply." 
 
 " Do they then repent of Uieir violence ?" 
 
 " No, I think not; like people who have 
 acted wrong from a mean motive and are 
 ashamed of it, they have become angry and 
 hardeneil, and are resolved to brazen it ouU 
 They are more violent now against the priests 
 than at first, from the feeling of tlieir disap- 
 pointment, and the consciousness of injury in- 
 flicted." 
 
 G 4
 
 128 TUT. ADVI N I I ){I:RS. 
 
 " How did they proceed in their attack upon 
 the convent." 
 
 ** I do not know. It was a (hiy of lawless 
 riot: the men of the village got drunk; the 
 priests had notice of their intention and fled ; 
 the convent was plundered and destroyed in a 
 few hours, and the next day brought us a re- 
 formed minister, who is followed and attended, 
 though he is by no means respected in the same 
 degree as the abbot." 
 
 " Power, it seems to me, Miss Bagnal, is the 
 divinity of your nation. The abbot was ex- 
 pelled his convent, notwithstanding his charac- 
 ter and benefactions, the moment it appeared 
 that the favour of the prince was withdrawn. 
 For, from all I can learn, religious opinion had 
 little to do with the matter." 
 
 " In few instances, I believe. The rich mostly 
 changed with the court, and the poor followed 
 the rich ; but it is certainly true that the affec- 
 tions of the people were, some how or other* 
 loosened from the church ; they were prepared 
 for a change of any kind. And the tide came 
 suddenly and violently ujjon those of the clergy 
 who were faithful to their duties, as well as upon 
 those who deserved to perish, and overwhelmed 
 all in one promiscuous ruin."
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 129 
 
 The conversation dropped gradually away as 
 they sat crazing upon the ruins of the monastery 
 and the gravt's of the dead, until both sank into 
 silence, which neither seemed dispose<l to inter- 
 rupt. At length Miss Bagnal rose and said, 
 
 " I protest against remaining in this place any 
 longer, Mr. O'Neil — or, I should call you, my 
 Lord Tyrone," said she, smiling. 
 
 " Pray do not. Miss Bagnal ; call me O'Neil 
 if you would oblige me, and recollect too, that 
 this is the higher title." 
 
 " Well then, let it be so ; but it is time we 
 should look for our dinner." 
 
 O'Neil rose to accompany her. 
 
 " I don't know what it was that affected me 
 so much in that church-yard," continued she, 
 as they crossed tiie stile ; " I iiave spent many, 
 many hours there in happy converse with the 
 dead ; but to-day that I had a living companion, 
 I felt a deeper dejection than ever I experienced 
 in my life. It was wonderful, and quite new to 
 me; thick clouds, as it were, came over my 
 mind ; like threatening apparitions flitting before 
 my open and vacant eye — it w as a strange 
 delusion." 
 
 " Did I not tell you that you were in com- 
 pany w ilh one who was cradled in magic .''" 
 G 5
 
 130 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 Without being diverted by this sally Miss 
 
 Ba^nal went on. 
 
 " I have often felt great pleasure in sitting 
 u})on that little seat of green turf, and imagining 
 what my poor dear grandmother, who loved nie 
 so dearly, would say, if she were to rise from her 
 grave, where I have planted so many flowers, 
 and tended them so carefully : would she ap- 
 prove of all I have thought and all I have done, 
 and kiss me as she used to do ? And would she 
 tell me what I ought to avoid, and what pursue?** 
 " If she would do that, Miss Bagnal, she 
 would be the most precious of grandmothers." 
 
 " She was, indeed, a precious grandmother;" 
 said the young lady, still continuing the train ol 
 her own thoughts ; " Oh that journey to Ire- 
 land ; I was thinking of it in the grave-yard, 
 and terror crejit over me, and 1 felt a shock or 
 convulsion, 'twas as if I was changed, and was 
 no more the same person. And then came those 
 visions. Do you believe in guardian angels, 
 Mr. O'Neil?" 
 
 " As a good Catholic, I am li(nind to believe 
 them you know." 
 
 " I forgot that you were a Catholic. Our 
 family are Protestants ; we left the church ol 
 Rome early in my father's time, who was a pious
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 131 
 
 man, and dissented from conviction from that 
 church. But we have always believed — at 
 least the tcmales of our family — in the dcx-trinc 
 of cruardian an^rels." 
 
 ** Well, and has your guardian angel been 
 playing you any prank ?" 
 
 " Don't speak so, Mr. O'Neil ; I thought he 
 left me as I sat in that church-yard, — oh ! not 
 for ever, I hope ; but he is surely gone. My 
 poor auot Matilda, whose tragic story is still 
 told at every fire-side for twenty miles round 
 Bagnal's Close when the wind blows high, was 
 a firm believer in the doctrine of guardian 
 angels." 
 
 " Whether we are guardetl by some dele- 
 gated spirit of heaven, or whether the Divine 
 Being himself guides our uncertain course in 
 the palpable darkness which surrounds us in 
 this world, is, 1 think, hardly to be determined, 
 nor material to determine, for it is the same. 
 It is the Creator still that is with us, whether 
 by his agent or by his Spirit. And if he with- 
 draw from us this our only security and ho})e 
 of safety, we are lost indeed." 
 
 " We are lost indeed, — ln)w true!" said 
 Miss Bagnal, repeating several times the 
 G 6
 
 132. THK ADVENTIUFIIS. 
 
 last clause of O'Ncil's sriitciicc : " wc an lost 
 indeed." 
 
 " But what was your aunt's story ? I have a 
 great tnstc for tlie wonderful." 
 
 " It is too long a story ; — hut when she 
 was about my age, she had to determine upon 
 a step of the greatest importance, as it after- 
 wards proved, to her future life, and unhappily 
 she decided more according to her inclination 
 than, ])erhaps, her duty. Until this p«"iod she 
 had been a remarkably pious person, and in 
 the scripture phrase might be said to * walk 
 with God.' M'hcn she had taken her resolu- 
 tion, she felt like a cold fit and convulsion of 
 the nerves; the impression upon her mind after- 
 wards was that this was a shudderinff of nature 
 at the departure of her guardian anijel. After 
 this she thought she was hiirdly the same per- 
 son ; it was as if some new power hatl obtained 
 dominion over her, and all the future events of 
 her life seemed to prove the fact. She was like 
 one bewildered and walking in thick mists, 
 where every step she took led to some new 
 disaster; and the utmost caution and prudence 
 she could use only added to her peiplexity, 
 and served to shew the vanity of human wis- 
 dom, and the futility of our precautions, when
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 133 
 
 he who rules ui the region of shadows that 
 encompasses us, has left us to walk alone. 
 Poor aunt Matilda was a tormented creature 
 till she died, or till very near it; for she said 
 that a short time previously, the angelic 
 guide of her youth revisited her, and she 
 was cautious never ajjain to do anv thinfj of 
 importance without a full conviction that she 
 was doing right." 
 
 A servant from the Close now interrupted 
 their conversation, by announcing that dinner 
 waited; and quickening their pace, they were 
 soon at home, where they found dinner had 
 waited for them half an hour, a circumstance, 
 it was remarked by all the domestics, which had 
 never before occurred in the memory of any 
 one at Bagnal's Close. 
 
 The next dav O'Neil found that Miss Bajr- 
 nal had ac(|uired a cheerful and buoyant tone 
 of spirits. She seemed to avoid conversation 
 with him, and to be busily engaged in pnpar- 
 ations for her journey. For two or three days, 
 during which these preparations were continued, 
 her spirits appeared to rise, until they attained 
 a degree of excitement which looked not 
 unlike what is sometimes produced bv fever. 
 Her manner was hurried, her hand had a slight
 
 134« THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 tremulous motion, her cheek was flushed, and 
 her eye glistened with almost unnatural brit^hi- 
 ness. O'Neil's attention was fixed by these 
 appearances ; he observed her closely, and he 
 saw at the same time that her mother also was 
 roused, and anxiously watching these extraor- 
 dinary symptoms. 
 
 Mrs. Bagnal had been induced to consent to 
 the journey to Ireland partly by the importu- 
 nities of her daughter, but much more by the 
 motherly policy of " providing for her," as 
 it is called. Mrs. Bamial was a common 
 }ilace woman, and she saw diat her daughter 
 had little chance of being " provided for" at 
 Bagnal Close, where there was a great scarcity 
 of bachelors. She had worried her eldest son 
 upon the necessity of making new acquaint- 
 ances, and iiw'iting 1/otifig vieti^ and taking other 
 proper steps for bringing about the consum- 
 mation she desired. I5ut Jack Bagnal was im- 
 practicable, and would not meddle in the matter, 
 nor go out of his own way for mother or sister. 
 And we must do him the justice to say, that 
 it was not because he was indiflerent about 
 either of them, but chiefly because he looked 
 u|K)n all such manoeuvres as equally foolish and 
 mean. He thought duit they seldom proiluced
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 the result contemplated, and seldom failed to 
 expose* all the parties to derision. lie consi- 
 dered it as absolutely ini[)ossible for the most 
 skilful hunter or huntress of that tame animal 
 tailed a husband, to conceal the toils from the 
 animal himself, or from the spectators of the 
 chase. It was not fair play, he said, to hunt 
 down any poor fellow in that way, and very 
 often it was most cruel to the poor damsel who 
 was the object of all this finesse, and who either 
 was, perhaps, the tortured spectator of the 
 cene, or the innocent and unconscious object 
 of the general ridicule and contempt which it 
 occasioned. 
 
 When the news arrived of her second son*s 
 title and appointment to his high post in the 
 north-west of Ireland, it immediately occurred 
 to the anxious mother, that what Jack Bagnal 
 had failed to effect might be accomplished by 
 means of Sir Henry, But to send a young 
 woman to Ireland was an awful thing ; and to 
 part with her daughter was a sacrifice not to be 
 thought of without pain, for Mrs. Bagnal wjis a 
 good mother, though not so wise a one as slie 
 thought herself to be. The idea, therefore, 
 after being turnetl and revolved in every manner. 
 was reluctantly abandoned.
 
 I3G THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 But wlien Sir Henry's letter arrived con- 
 taining ji gay and cordial invitation for his sis- 
 ter to spend some time with him in Ireland, and 
 when immediately after O'Neil made his visit, 
 the best guide in every way that could be im- 
 agined, and the safest also, for he was a married 
 man, and a man of unexceptionable character; 
 :>he thought that she should be most culpable 
 if she resisted these indications of good fortune. 
 And when, contrary to all her hopes, her eldest 
 son agreed to be of the party, her triumph was 
 complete. 
 
 She was surprised indeed at her daughter's 
 earnest importunity, for she had only hinted at 
 the possibility of her consenting, and she con- 
 cluded that Miss Bagnal's motive was the same 
 as her own. The young lady also had some 
 shrewd suspicions of lier mother's real motives ; 
 but she knew how hopeless it would be to rea- 
 son with the prudent matron upon the subject, 
 or to explain to her what she felt and thought 
 about it. She considered it therelbre most 
 ])rudent to say nothing of the matter, but to 
 use her mother's permission without enquiry or 
 debate as to the motives. 
 
 Not that she was not a little indignant at 
 the notions concerning her, which her mother
 
 THE ADVENTrRERS. 137 
 
 plainly entertained when she dwelt upon the 
 multitude of gay soldiers and fortunate ailven- 
 turers, which she understood from Mr. O'Neil 
 now paid their court to Sir Henry Bagnal, 
 as a risiniT man and favourite with the Lord 
 Deputy. Nor was she sparing of her hints to 
 her daughter, even in the presence of O'Neil, 
 that she could never consent to an Irish son- 
 in-law, though he might be a prince or chieftan 
 as they called them. They were a strange, wild 
 people, and one might as well marry a Mandarin 
 or Cacique, or any other outlandish commander. 
 " Mr. O'Neil will pardon me," said she, catch- 
 ing at length the meaning of her daughter's eye, 
 who sought to stop all this superfluous advice, 
 by directing her motlier's attention to their 
 guest. 
 
 " My countrymen have never any thing to 
 pardon to the ladies. Madam," said O'Neil : 
 " they cannot possibly offend us ; and 1 must 
 agree with you, that we are a sad set of wild 
 fellows, especially when youth and beauty are 
 in question." 
 
 " There now, Lucy ! I hope, sir, you will be 
 kind enough to take care of my daughter. Mr. 
 Bagnal seldom takes care of any thing but him- 
 self and Ills horses, and in going to that birang<^
 
 138 THF, ADVENTURERS. 
 
 country, Lucy will want some one to be kind to 
 lier, and to guard her from the horrid Irish." 
 
 " I shall pay her every attention in my 
 power, you may depend upon it, Madam." 
 
 *' And when you are settled, Lucy, I will go 
 and pay you a visit myself, if health be spared to 
 me." 
 
 " What, madam ! you to think of sojourning 
 amongst the horrid Irish," said O'Neil, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 ** Yes, sir, if Lucy was settled, you know it 
 would be another tiling, and there would be no 
 fear of either of us. Lucy may have a castle 
 of her own as grand as her brother Henry's ; and 
 there are forfeitures every day, I am told, of 
 the estates of these Irish ; and she may have 
 an estate, and servants and soldiers to guard us." 
 
 " Indeed she may, madam ; nothing more 
 likely ; many far less deserving have got them." 
 
 " There, you see, Lucy — " 
 
 " But Lucy's patience was exhausted. Vex- 
 ation and shame was upon her brow, and the 
 tears stood in her eyes." 
 
 Her mother looked alarmed and amazed, and 
 an indistinct idea of the real cause rested upon 
 her mind. A shght glance showed O'Neil the
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 189 
 
 state of the case, and he rose ami left the nio- 
 tlier ami (huij'hter toj^ether. 
 
 Mrs. Bagiml, though not a wise woman, was 
 an affectionate mother, and she and her dau«rhter 
 were soon reconciled. The mother promised 
 to say nothing on such subjects ever again, and 
 the daughter wept away her vexations on her 
 mother's bosom-. 
 
 In a few days all necessary preparations being 
 made, Miss Bagnal, attended by her brother, 
 and O'Neil, set out on their visit to Ireland. 
 The parting of the mother and daughter, was 
 more painful than either had anticipated. All the 
 motives that on both sides had stimulated the ad- 
 venture, fell to the earth at the cry of nature 
 in this painful struggle; Were they thus to 
 part, and for what ? Where was the cause or rea- 
 son for it ? Would they ever meet again in tliis 
 world? Perhaps never. What might they not 
 both suffer ? Her lonely and deserted mother ; 
 the child unguarded by a mother's eye, and all 
 unused to strange scenes and foreign counte- 
 nances. It appeared unaccountable and mys- 
 terious to both, how they could ever have 
 thought of such a parting; but now it was inevi- 
 table; and they parted.
 
 I iO THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 Tlie iiiotlier was borne into ihc house in an 
 agony of tears. The daughter was hurried 
 away in a lieavy vehicle, wliich served the 
 squire as a coach. Her eye was dry, her lips 
 were closed forcibly, and upon her smooth and 
 white forehead a dewy moisture was collecting, 
 that showed how terrible was the conflict 
 within.
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 1 \ I 
 
 CIIAPTEII Mil. 
 
 ^OTHiNc; is nioie extraorclinaiy in naiiire than 
 the sudden clianging of tlie current of thought 
 and feeling; on an instant it alters its direction, 
 and pours its whole accumulated volume into an 
 untried channel, sweeping away every obstacle 
 in its course. Miss Bagnal would now have 
 given worlds to be seated at home by her 
 mother's side — it was so cruel to leave her 
 thus — so old, so kind, so generous, thinking 
 only of her, who in her plans and projoct> had 
 so forgotten her mother. Who would now 
 take care of that dear mother ? who could be 
 expected to take care of her, when she was 
 thus abandoned by her only and her heartless 
 daughter ? Who would call in the morning at 
 her bed-side to en(|uire how she slept and help 
 to dress her? Who would attend her at night 
 with her little china basin of gruel to her cham- 
 ber before she retired to rest. Who would 
 perform the thousand other little offices of love 
 and kindness, which had formed her happy task?
 
 142 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 With such interrogatories as these she con- 
 tinued to torment herself, until she arrived at 
 a full conviction that she was the most barbarous 
 of human beings, and hir motlier the most 
 faultless and amiable of mortals. Rut there was 
 s(5mething pleasing as well as afflicting indwell- 
 ing upon her mother's virtues and fondness ; 
 by degrees this gentle contemplation softened 
 the excess of grief; her clasped lips showed a 
 tremulous motion, and her fixed eye became 
 suffused with moisture, which collectinfj soon 
 hito large round drops, rolled in plenteous 
 showers down her cheeks. She wept aloud. 
 Her brother had sense enough not to seek to 
 restrain her, and O'Neil assumed the appear- 
 ance of one wholly absorbed in his own con- 
 templations, and insensible to what was passing 
 around him. 
 
 Miss Ragnal was relieved by her tears : new- 
 ideas began to flow from the mysterious foun- 
 tain of thought. She began to think now, that 
 she would certainly return to her modier very 
 speedily ; that nothing bad could happen to 
 either of them ; and that they would both 
 value and love each other the more dearly 
 for their short separation. And she would have 
 so much to tell her mother of sti'ange sights
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 14S 
 
 and wonderful occurrences of the wild Irish, 
 and their extraordinary habits, that it would be 
 a peii^etual fund of conversation and delight. 
 Cheered and reassured by these ideas, she con- 
 sidered that she might as well enjoy the present, 
 which was to furnish such a fund of future 
 pleasure. 
 
 The fresh air of the morning, and the beauty 
 of the rich and diversified scenery, which spread 
 before her its woods, and streams, and lawns, 
 as if to chase away her sorrow, had perhaps 
 some effect in producing this resolution. Her 
 eye now glistened with delight as she looked 
 around on the fair scenes so new to her, 
 and felt the inspiring pleasure of rapid motion. 
 At this moment O'Neil awoke from his dose, 
 and undertook to be " Nature's connnentator." 
 He pointed out the perfections of the landscape, 
 which his practised eye had learned to appre- 
 ciate in the fair climes of the Continent. From 
 Nature's own pencil, they passed to that of the 
 artist, and discoursed of all the magic creations 
 of genius in the imitative arts in Italy and 
 the Low Countries. 
 
 Miss I^agnal luul been a gardener and a florist 
 of some skill and taste ; but it was new to her 
 to look abroad upon nature as presenting ever
 
 I 
 
 141 THr. ADVKNTIRERS. 
 
 riclj Mild ever varyiijir laiulsca|)es tiill of skill, 
 luul beauty, and character. She had not 
 heen taught to observe the aspect of rocks, 
 or the character of trees which seem to con- 
 verse witii their fellow being man, bearing 
 themselves towards him with pride and dignity 
 — or displaying beauty haidly interior to the 
 animate creation. 
 
 JShe entered with delight into the tasteful and 
 curious observations of her companion, which 
 unfolded to lier view a new and interesting 
 view of nature. 
 
 They were now far on their journey when 
 an event took place which altered very much th« 
 state of the traveller's afliiirs. An express over- 
 took them with the im})ortant information, thai 
 tlie Scjuire's favourite horse, liulo, was seriousl\ 
 indisposed. No one at the Close would venture to 
 meddle with 13ulo, not even to help his recovery ; 
 and the unlucky horse was in the condition o( 
 other great personages, of too much dignity 
 and importance to be submitted to the risk of 
 cure. 
 
 This was a critical case, and rctjuired instant 
 decision ; nor was the scjuire long in taking his 
 resolution. He determined to return home 
 immediately and superintend the treatment of
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 145 
 
 his horse; and to coniniit tlie care of his sister 
 to O'Ncil. The S(juire indeed had never felt 
 any great wish for the excursion ; and the 
 farther he found himself removed from his 
 home, the less was he inclined to proceed. He 
 had discovered that the whole matter was such 
 a disturbance of his habits as was hardly to be 
 borne. But the dan^^er which threatened Bulo 
 left no choice. 
 
 The case was quite otherwise with his sister. 
 Her spirits, so depressed in the outset, rose 
 with the distance, and she was now more than 
 reconciled to the ailventure, when this deter- 
 mination of her brother made it a question 
 w hethcr she ouf^ht to submit to the arrangement 
 he proposed. She knew that any attempt to 
 alter her brother's resolution, where Bulo was 
 concerned, would be vain. He was used to 
 high command and implicit obedience in tliose 
 about him ; nor would the pleasure or accommo- 
 dation of any woman in Europe stand in com- 
 petition, in his mind, with the hetdth and comfort 
 of his horse Bulo. He pronounced, therefore 
 thai he would return with his messcnirer, and 
 that his sister might proceed on her journev, 
 if she thought proper, in company with Mr. 
 
 VOL. 1. H
 
 Ii6 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 O'Ncil, wlio he wiis sure would take very good 
 care of her, and conduct her in safety to her 
 brother Henry. Indeed, though Mr. Bagnal 
 offered his sister the aUernative of returning 
 with him, it was phiin that he would be l^etter 
 pleased if she should resolve to continue her 
 journey, and this merely that she might not 
 impede the rapidity of his return to the cher- 
 ished cjuadruped. 
 
 It was a distressing predicament, and after 
 much hesitation and mental debate, she found 
 herself unable to come to any decision upon 
 the matter ; and left the case wholly to her 
 brother's arbitration. Her brother was deter- 
 mined in his award by two motives, one, a good- 
 natured wish to gratify his sister, who he plainly 
 perceived would be grievously disappointed by 
 the tailure of the excursion to Ireland ; the 
 other, a natural desire to gratify himself by 
 riding full speed to Bagnal's Close, and saving 
 the life of the incomparable Bulo — by perhaps 
 endangering his own. As to any danger accru- 
 ing to his sister by this arrangement, it never 
 occurred to him as possible. They were now 
 far on their way; O'Neil was a married man, 
 and had been spoken of by his brother in the 
 highest terms, and his conduct throughout the
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 1 t7 
 
 joiniuy liad been that of an lioiiorable ami 
 well jirincipleil person. 
 
 Finally the business was arranged by Mr. 
 Bagnal's setting out for the Close, and com- 
 mitting his sister with more feeling and affection 
 than she thought him capable of to the care of 
 his friend O'Neil, and of his old servant Tom 
 Blosset, whose care and attention to his young 
 mistress was to be rewarded tenfold upon their 
 return to the Close. Miss Bagnal had also a 
 female servant, whose want of skill as a waiting 
 maid was compensated by her devotion to her 
 young mistress. 
 
 This, also, was a painful parting for the 
 fair traveller. It seemed like breaking the last 
 link that connected her with her home — but 
 she bore it better than her first parting with 
 her mother — so well, indeed, that she was 
 ashamed and astonished at herself. She could 
 not account for it. She ought she thought, 
 to have felt desolate and distressed beyond 
 measure at separating from her brother. It 
 was strange that she should not feel alarmed 
 at being left thus alone to travel over land i\nd 
 sea with a stranger and an Irishman, with only 
 an old servant to protect her, and a silly young 
 girl as her companion. But so it was tha^ 
 H 2
 
 [\S THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 neither her sorrow nor her terror were exces- 
 sive. 
 
 The secret of this heroism, or apathy, or 
 whatever it was, might, perhaps, be found in 
 some dark recess nt the bottom of the heai't, 
 where it hnked all unknown to the proprietor 
 of this extraordhiary mine, if we had now the 
 leisure to explore it. But we think it l)est, for 
 the present, to j^ursue our journey, leaving this 
 search and analysis for a more convenient 
 opportunity. 
 
 It is certain, that this species of astonishment 
 at our own want of feeling, is no uncommon 
 emotion of the mind. Wc may be assured 
 there is a spell upon the heart, when the spirits 
 are unmoved by those incidents which ought 
 naturally to affect them : as the woodman knows 
 that the fearful charm is working, when the 
 breeze blows fresh, and not a leaf of the forest 
 vibrates. So thought Miss Bagnal at a later 
 |K^riod. 
 
 A delightful journey Uirough Wales recon- 
 ciled the young lady once more to herself Th6 
 weather was briglit and calm, and the mountain 
 scenery of that fine country appeared in all its 
 glory. The oak had put on its winter's livery 
 of gold, and stretched its waving lines along 
 the vale of LangoUcn, while the fine river of
 
 THE ADVENTURERfi. \\9 
 
 the valley lay like a tleep mass of quicksilver in 
 the lK)ttom of this glorious babin. 
 
 The breeze freshened as the ti*avellers ap- 
 proached the sea ; and when they reached Holy- 
 head, it blew rather a strong gale. Miss Bagnal 
 beheld the ocean for the first time, with feelings 
 of delight and awe ; but when she had em- 
 barked, and felt herself borne rapidly along 
 upon the bold and heaving sea which divides 
 the Welsh and Iri^h shores, her feeling of 
 terror j^revailed over her impression of the 
 subhme. 
 
 The following niorning they entered the bay 
 of Dublin, and she beheld, with eager eyes, the 
 land on each side spreading its green banks 
 ujx)n the wave, and sparkling with white cot- 
 tages ; filling the heart of the s}->ectator witli 
 those sensations of home and tranquillity wliich 
 are so delightful after a voyage. 
 
 The travellers remained a few days m Dublin. 
 Miss Bagnal required rest and refreshment after 
 her journey by land and sea ; and O'Xeil had 
 to wait upon the Lord Deputy, and deliver his 
 des|)atches. Miss Bagnal's ideas of Ireland 
 had not l^een very favourable ; she w:iii there- 
 fore rather j)leased, tlian otherwise, with the 
 appearance of Dublin. It was, she tliought, of 
 H 3
 
 150 Tin: ADVENTURERS. 
 
 ^reat extent ; ami iVoiii the number of new 
 huilclin^s in progress, it had the air of an un- 
 proving town. Among these, were two of con- 
 siderable beauty and im})ortance. One was 
 called the Castle, anil was situated on the sum- 
 mit of a little hill. It included several spacious 
 gardens and court-yards, and was ornamented 
 with handsome towers. Its position on the bank 
 of the river, and the elevation of its site, gave it 
 the advantage of the fine and extensive views of 
 woods, fields, and villas on the opposite side of 
 the river, and stretching up the Liffey to a 
 great extent. The Castle was intendeil to be 
 the residence of the Lord Deputy, 
 
 Not far from the Castle, to the right, and a 
 little way out of town, a great number of work- 
 men were busily employed laying the founda- 
 tions of what was intended to be tlie College 
 of Dublin. This building was also pleasantly 
 situated on the batik of the river, which nearly 
 washed its walls. It |)romised to be of great 
 l)eauty and extent. There were already, it was 
 said, three or foui* students eagerly waiting for 
 the com})letion of some part of die building ; 
 and it was confidently anticii)ated, that the new 
 C\)llege would speedily shine out with such an 
 effulgence of Protestant glory, as would not fail
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 151 
 
 to dispel those clouds of Popery which still 
 rested on the land. The Queen, it was reported, 
 would take care tliat the College should be 
 am|)ly endowed, and scrupulously orthodox ; 
 and with such an instrument for spreading the 
 Gospel light in the centre of the kingdom, she 
 relied that in another generation there would 
 not remain a vestige of Popish error in this 
 portion of her dominions. 
 
 In these views and anticipations every one in 
 Dublin fully concurred, and the foundation of 
 the College was considered as the overthrow of 
 Rome. jNIiss Dagnal soon received the imjires- 
 sion of the public opinion, and spoke with 
 delight to O'Neil upon this glorious extinction 
 of error, which was so near at hand. O'Neil 
 shook his head. 
 
 " Do you doubt the effect which this great 
 establishment is expected to produce ?" 
 
 " I doubt whether it will {)r()duce much effect 
 in the way you mention." 
 
 " Why r 
 
 " The Queen has already granted various 
 tracts of land to this intended College, and may 
 perhaps grant more ; the College may l)ecome 
 too rich to attend to any thing but its own en- 
 joyments ; or, if it should attend, the efforts of 
 H 4
 
 15*2 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 such u rich esUibhshiiicnt will be sure to be 
 iiixiivaiiing. 'J'he rich never make proselytes, 
 except of the rich ; aiid moreover, this College 
 establishment, like the Church establishment, 
 derives its wealth from a polluted source. I'hese 
 pious establishments are enriched and endowed 
 with lands claimed by otlier proprietors. A 
 blessing was never know n to descend upon such 
 endowments. They will not prosjier, Miss 
 Bagnal ; tlie wealth thus acquired will consiune 
 them. Like Herod, they will perish in the 
 plenitude of luxury and power, victims to the 
 vermin generated in their own flesh." 
 
 " An awful sentence, Mr. O'Neil." 
 
 " You know, that as The O'Neil, I have 
 told you I am indued, of right, with the spirit 
 of pro})hecy — a melancholy privilege ; for, with 
 respect to my own fate, I am as nmch in the 
 dark as other persons. I can see the ruin that 
 awaits my enemies, but not tlie fortunes whicli 
 may befal myself." 
 
 " And are you indeed persuaded, that you 
 possess this extraordinary power ?" 
 
 O'Neil paused for a while, and then an- 
 swered, " I am at least not persuaded that I do 
 not possess it. That is the best answer I can 
 give you."
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 1 5S 
 
 Lord Tyrone had lodged Miss Bagnal, durinrr 
 his stay in Dublin, with a lady of rank of the 
 family of his kinsman Kildare. Her short re- 
 sidence with this lady gave her quite other ideas 
 of the Irish tlian she had been used to enter- 
 tain. The dowager Lady Kildare was still a 
 voung woman, suiTounded with wealth and 
 magnificence, and apparently disregarding both. 
 Her manner was easy, affable, and famiUar, 
 even to plainness ; there was, ap})arently, no 
 consciousness of rank about her, and yet her 
 guests never forgot it. It was, perhaps, that 
 the high-mind edness of the Lady Kildare was 
 superior to the petty distinctions of rank. She 
 jK)sscssed the solid distinction of wealth, and 
 the natural distinction of character, and secure 
 upon this high ground, she felt that she might 
 be j)erfecdy at her ease without any fear of 
 descending. Miss Bagnal thought that Lady 
 Kildare was coarse, but it was the coarseness 
 of a stroniT and vij^orous mind, conscious of its 
 own power, and })erhaps a little careless of the 
 opinions of those around her. But though 
 Lady Kildare might be careless of her reputii- 
 tion for refinement, and rather negligent of the 
 opinions of others upon this head, she was never 
 inattentive to their comforts or accommodation. 
 H 5
 
 154 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 Miss Bagnal wa.s soon reconciled to her lady- 
 ship's strange manners, as she at first thought 
 them, and her ladyship in as short a time 
 learned to value and admire her guest, in whom 
 she thought she discovered the seeds of many 
 excellent (jualities imperfectly developed. Dur- 
 ing her residence with Lady Kildare, Miss 
 Bagnal was struck with the homage |)aid to 
 O'Neil, as well by the great Anglo-Irish no- 
 bility, who frequented the noble mansion of her 
 ladyship, as by tlie old Irish. Lady Kildare 
 herself evidently regarded him as the most dis- 
 tinguished personage who visited at her house, 
 and did him infinitely more honour than she 
 condescended to pay to tlie Lord Deputy, or 
 any of the great officers of the crown. Upon 
 some of these it wius clear that she looked down 
 with a degree of contempt which she hardly 
 took the trouble to conceal. 
 
 Next to O'Neil, on Lady Kildare's list, stood 
 O'Moore, a man of the rarest talents. O'Moore 
 was a model of perfect beauty ; he might have 
 served to guide the chisel which gave life to 
 the Apollo. But this was his least reconunen- 
 dation ; he was a brave soldier, and a skilfid 
 leader of his clansmen. He was elotjuent in 
 conversation, an accomplished scholar, a poet
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 155 
 
 in his native language, generous, kind-hearted, 
 and a lover of trutli and justice. O' Moore was 
 the refuge of the destitute and oppressed, and 
 the pride and deUght of Iiis countrymen. His 
 character had the rare quahty of being ahnost 
 perfect : it was ** teres atque rotundus" — as 
 good and amiable in private life as it was per- 
 fect in public ; he was the idol of his own family, 
 and was surrounded by a body guard of bro- 
 thers and kinsmen, all of whom would have 
 have died for him. It was said of O'Moore, 
 that in his whole life he was never guilty of a 
 bad or an e(|ui vocal action. He was the soul 
 of honour, and every quality he possessed hail 
 a certain perfection and brightness about it, 
 that made it look superior to the same (|uality 
 in any other man ; or perha})s the lustre it 
 seemed to possess was derived from the reflected 
 brightness of his other virtues, as diamonds in 
 a bou(]uet add to each other's splendour. 
 
 O'Moore was the implacable enemy of the 
 British power in Ireland. He was now at peace 
 with the colony, having lately made teruis with 
 Sir John Perrot. Hut he considered the peace 
 as no more than a truce, and spoke of it openly 
 as such. The English may make i)eace with 
 us, said he, when it suits them, but as long as 
 H 6
 
 156 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 die O'Moores possess rich lands in t)ie ncigh- 
 bourluHKl of Dublin, so long tlic British are 
 their foes. Tlie sept of O'Moore hud l)een 
 tlispossessed of all their territory during tlie 
 infancy of the j)resent Tanist. When he l)e- 
 canie of age, he assumed the command of his 
 .sept, and after a long struggle he drove out tlie 
 settlers, and pushed the war into the district of 
 the Pale, and to the very walls of Dublin. JSir 
 John Perrot was glad to make peace with hun 
 on his own tenns. 
 
 The desj)atches which O'Neil brought over, 
 announced the recall of Sir John Perrot from 
 the government of Ireland. Sir Jolm, though 
 guilty of some veiy questionable proceedings, 
 was a far more liumanc and equitable man than 
 the British cabinet had been for a long time 
 used to entrust with the government of Ireland. 
 His administration was upon this account par- 
 ticularly distasteful to the crowd of greedy ad- 
 venturers who thronged round the Irish court, 
 and looked only for plunder. And after great 
 effort they had succeeded in removing him, and 
 obtaining the a})j)ointnient of a Lord Deputy 
 more after their o^v^ heai't. His siiccessor was 
 Sir William Fitz- William, who had not yet 
 arrived.
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 167 
 
 It was announced that Sir John Perrot would 
 hold a drawing room at the Castle previous to 
 his departure; and O'Xeil, Lady Kildare, and 
 Miss Bagnal proposed to attend. 
 
 The Deputy held his court in one of the 
 unfinished squares of the Castle. His drawing 
 room was filled with a motley assembhiire of 
 persons. These were for the most part military 
 men and their wives, some churchmen, and a 
 tew Irish chieftiiins, looking awkward and mi- 
 serable in tlieir English dresses; with these 
 there were two or three captives, or hostages 
 of distinction, who, though guarded with great 
 care, were sometimes admitted to the drawing- 
 rooms at court, that they might l)e instructed in 
 " civiLiT\','' according to the terms of the 
 Queen's instructions. Many of the military 
 men were without commands, and most of the 
 churchmen without cures, but all were expect- 
 ants. 
 
 Hardly was O'Neil regarded with favour bv 
 any of these courtiers, except perha})s the fe- 
 male portion of them, who could not but admire 
 his fine })ersoii and captivating address, set off 
 as they were by his high rejiutation as a soldier, 
 and his exalted rank iis a chieftain and Earl of
 
 15S THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 Tyrone, and still more as the Queen's favourite, 
 as it was reported. 
 
 The niilitiiry adventurers envied to O'Xeil 
 all these advantages, but his restoration to his 
 estates was the most grievous hardship of any. 
 Ah'eady liad die fine domains of Ulster been 
 jKircclled out, in idea, amongst this precious 
 fraternity. They had all stated their claims to 
 the Cabinet of England, and each had his patron, 
 Cecil or Burleigh, or some less sagacious states- 
 man. O'Neil's restoration had surprised these 
 wise men of the Cabinet as much as it as- 
 tounded their dependents in the other country. 
 They consoled themselves, that some day they 
 would have their revenge ; and that they should 
 liave it they did not doubt, though they saw 
 plainly that in dealing with O'Neil they had no 
 ordinary man to contend with, nor one unac- 
 quainted widi the fashion of courts, or that 
 kind of animal called " courtier." 
 
 The Irish chieftains, among whom were old 
 Tyrlough O'Neil, Sir John O'Dougherty, and 
 others, formed anoUier group in the Deputy's 
 drawing room. These, who spoke the English 
 language widi difficulty, and endured tlieir 
 court dresses widi impatience, looked with no
 
 THE ADVENTUKERS. 159 
 
 friendly eye upon O'Neil, whose ease, elegance, 
 and self-possession they admired and wondered at. 
 
 The Irish captives, young O'Donnel and 
 Desmond, viewed the newly-created carl with 
 a still more evil eye. They considered him a*j 
 having sold his country for a title which degraded 
 him. He must, they thought, have purchased 
 the favour he enjoyed at court by base com- 
 pliances. His long service in the British aiiny 
 made them consider him as having renounced 
 his country ; and his activity in the Desmond 
 war, which was reported to have been the price 
 of his restoration to his Lister estates, made 
 him hateful in the sight of young Desmond. 
 
 These young men did not conceal their ab- 
 horrence of the British power in Ireland. 
 The unworthy trick by which O'Donnel had 
 been seized, and without any crime, real or 
 imagined, had been detained for so long a 
 period from his family and home, had made 
 him an irreconcileable enemy. 
 
 Sir John Perrot kept his court with splendour, 
 suited to the dignity of the power he represented. 
 His grand chamber was hung with rich drapery, 
 and his courtiers were dressed in the massive 
 finery of that age. Sir .John made the circle 
 of his guests, saying somediing kind and com-
 
 160 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 plunentiiry to each as he approached. He 
 evidently laboured to sooth the discontents of 
 his olhcers, and sncceedicl badly, lie was not 
 {)opiilar with the adventurers, whose rapacity he 
 endeavoured to restrain. Indeed, it was under- 
 stood that the principle of his administration 
 was to protect and encourage the old Irish 
 nobility, and fix them, if possible, in allegiance 
 to the crown ; a task which, in his opinion, 
 required in most instances no more than to 
 assure them of protection and iVeedom tVom 
 insult and spohation. 
 
 He had so far won the confidence of the 
 native Irish nobility, that he succeeded in hold- 
 ing a parliament composed chiefly of lords and 
 connnoners of this class ; the first and last of 
 its kind that was ever held in Ireland. Hut 
 the system of justice and sound policy which 
 the De})uty attempted to carry into effect, coultl 
 not endure, and never yet has been permanent 
 in Ireland. Those whose interest lay in abuse 
 and misgovernment, were too powerful for sim- 
 ple integrity to contend with ; and he fell at 
 length under the continual and unwearied mis- 
 representations of calunmy. 
 
 When Sir John approached the Irish chief- 
 tains, he was received with a cordiality anti
 
 THE ADVENTl'RERS. 161 
 
 good humour that appeared to give him j)lea- 
 sure. He complinieiitcd old Tyrlough upon 
 the taste and magnificence of his court dress, 
 for he knew that the old man was really vexed 
 and out of humour with it. The old chieftain 
 however laughed heartily, and told a ludicrous 
 story of the disasters he had encountered on 
 his way to court. As he passed tlnough the 
 streets, he said, in his fine dress, he was sur- 
 rounded by a rude mob, who, recognizing the 
 old chief in his gay disguise, shouted and 
 laughed at him most discourteously. He said 
 there nmst no doubt have been something very 
 absurd in his demeanour and appearance, and 
 lie begged his Excellency would next time he 
 came to court permit him to dress his chaplain 
 after the Irish fashion, the strangeness of which 
 would no doubt attract the mob, and they might 
 perqiit him to pass on unnoticed in his court 
 attire. His chaplain having more of a Christian 
 spirit than he, might manage to bear the rude- 
 ness of a Dublin mob with more patience. 
 
 Sir John laughed, and said that he could not 
 object to so fair a proposal, though he could 
 not help thinking it hard on the poor priest. 
 
 " It will do him for penance," said Tyrlough, 
 " and spare him the wearing of this fool's clothing.
 
 I(j2 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 my lord, begging pardon of the English gen- 
 tlemen." 
 
 " His Excellency will not objecl to the Ta- 
 nist's application of the term, I am sure," said 
 Sir W. 8t. Leger, " when he confines it so pro- 
 perly to the present case.** 
 
 " The Saxon gentleman mistakes,'* said Tir- 
 lough ; " I do not confine it in any respect ; 
 these clothes are new to me, but they have been 
 long worn by the English gentlemen." 
 
 As the old chief made this observation, their 
 attention was called away by a loud rumbling 
 noise, accom})anied by shrieks, and they per- 
 ceived that the highest oP the Jbf^jns on one side 
 the room (which ranged one above the other 
 to a considerable height), with all its lading of 
 ladies in large hoops and cumbrous dresses, 
 was making a rapid and irregular descent into 
 the centre of the area, and carrying before it all 
 opjwsing bodies. Of the ladies who had sat 
 upon the bench, some went before, and some 
 followed it in the same rapid and disastrous 
 manner, to the great consternation of the court, 
 the fracture of hoo^is, crash of bodices, and 
 other unlucky occurrences. 
 
 Lady Kildare enjoyed the accident, and 
 shouted and laughed loud and maliciously. She
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 1G3 
 
 (lid not condescend to wear hoops, which .she 
 refrarded as a barbarous fashion ; and she 
 looked with a hardly concealed derision upon 
 the Enirlish ladies who were now and then 
 imported into Ireland, full dressed, and with 
 a full share of good o})inion of themselves and 
 contempt of the natives. The bench, which, 
 in the hurry of the ])reparation for the drawing- 
 room, had been badly secured, was, more- 
 over, somewhat overcharged and (which added 
 greatly to the merriment of the countess) with 
 ladies rather of a weighty description. Finally, 
 the bench rested in the centre of the floor with 
 all its scattered incumbrances. 
 
 This inelegant accident put an end to the 
 court rather abru])tly. The ladies returned 
 home, and O'Neil took leave of the good De- 
 puty for the last time. Before he left the Castle, 
 however, he contrived to have a conversation 
 of some length with the young captives, and 
 succeeded without nuich difficulty in removing 
 from their minds the unfavourable impression 
 which he saw they entertained of him, as one 
 who had purchased his elevation unworthily. 
 
 In estimating the characters of the hostages, 
 O'Neil considered the young Desmond as 
 haughty, impatient, and unsteady ; the O'Don-
 
 164 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 nul as proud, brave, resolute, aiul high-niindeil : 
 but neitlier, he tliought, so much ini})roved by 
 tlieir captivity, and the opportunities it afforded, 
 as he should have expected. For he knew tljai 
 adversity was a great teaclicr, and that nuic!i 
 niiglit be learneii at the Deputy's court, and in 
 the society it occasionally afforded.
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 165 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 O'Neil now prepared tor his journey to the 
 nortli, having already, since his arrival, had 
 much communication with Ulster, and prepared 
 the way for his personal appearance there. 
 But first it was his intention to visit his friend 
 Sir Henry Bagnal, now created Lord Marshal 
 of Ireland, and appointed to the government of 
 the north-western district, and to lodge his fair 
 charge in the safe custody of her brother. He 
 had written to Bagnal on his arrival in Dublin, 
 announcing his intended visit, and his letter, 
 together with one from Miss Bamial, was for- 
 warded by a special messenger, who carried 
 also despatches from government to the Lord 
 Marshal upon the state of the district under his 
 command. This district, which comprised most 
 jnirt of Connaught, was now partially disturbetl 
 by the turbulence, as was alleged, of one of 
 those (Icgcjiaafr English families, which, like 
 that of Desmond, was accused at the Castle of 
 being " ipsis Hibernis Hiberniores."
 
 16G Tin. ADVENTUREUS. 
 
 The express broiiglil back answers to Mi.«».^ 
 Bagniil and O'Neil, which rather suq^riscd both. 
 Tliey were short, and pleaded the luirry of bu- 
 siness for their want of })rohxity. llie tone of 
 IJiirrnars letter to his sister was cold, and af- 
 fected surprise at her journey, as if it had never 
 been mentioned between them l)efore ; and 
 hinted, that if she were determined u}K)n so ex- 
 traordinary an adventure, she might have chosen 
 a better guide than the new made Earl of Ty- 
 rone, who lived apart from his wife, and where 
 ladies were concerned, was not, jicrhaps, more 
 scrupulous than others of his countrymen. 
 
 To O'Neil there was a cold and over-cere- 
 monious acknowledgment of this and other o\y- 
 ligations, accompanied with some ecjuivocal 
 conjjratulations on his restoration to the /n'gh 
 dignity of the O'Neil, and the infirior rank of 
 Earl. 
 
 It was evident that the Lord Marshal was 
 displeased and discomposed at both events, — 
 the advancement of his Jricnd, and the arrival 
 of his sister. Bagnal had loved his sister 
 wai'mly before he left England ; it was almost 
 his only strong passion, for he was of a cold 
 character. And when he invited her to visit 
 him in Ireland, it was at a moment when his
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 167 
 
 lieart was exjiandccl into kindness with the 
 •Aorkl l)y his new ihgnities and appointments. 
 But it soon colhipsed into its former hardness 
 and tVioridity, and he thought it impossible that 
 his sister could take his invitation seriously. 
 He particularly disliked her travelling in com- 
 pany with O'Neil, to whom he thought he 
 owed too many obligations, and towards whom 
 his kindness was not at all increased by the 
 circumstance of O' Neil's advancement, which 
 so greatly outstepped his own. There were 
 other causes also why at this juncture he was 
 particularly embarrassed by Miss Bagnal's 
 arrival. 
 
 The Lord Marshal's sudden advancement 
 had stirred up his leading j)assion almost into 
 fury — ambition. He was deej) in the game of 
 Irish })olitics, and it happened in this, as in 
 other games, he liad been gradually losing those 
 |)rinciples of strict integrity and high honour 
 which he had brou'^ht with him from Knirland. 
 These were now almost prostrate before the 
 gieat idol which had erected its throne in his 
 heart. But their dominion had been previously 
 weakened by the stubborn prejudices against 
 Ireland and Irishmen, which he had conceived 
 while in England, and had intlfilged since his
 
 168 THE ADVENTlJREnS. 
 
 arrival in the other country, contrary to all 
 reason and evidence. Thase prejudices now 
 stinuduted his avarice, and pleaded for and ex- 
 cused every enormity. 
 
 A <ri'eat chan<ro liad Uikeii phice in his cha- 
 racter ; slowly at first, and insensibly — after- 
 wards with greater rajiidity ; until, without his 
 hein^ aware of it, he was, almost in all resj)ects, 
 an altered man. Bagnal had not yet Uisted the 
 intoxicating cup of confiscation, hut he had a 
 secret wish to feel it on his lips, and it was easy 
 for him to persuade himself, that those he wished 
 to plunder deserved to he robbed. He consi- 
 dered the Irish as an irreclaimable people, and 
 the sooner their lands })assed into the hands of 
 civilised owners and good subjects, the better 
 for l)oth countries. As an Englishnum, he was 
 lK)und, he thought, to jiromote those measures 
 which would establish tlie security of Britain ; 
 and though it was hard u})on individuals to dis- 
 possess them of their lands without reason, yet 
 it was his solemn duty to consult ibi" the general 
 weal, and foi*ward, with all his might, those 
 measures that would fix upon Irish giound a 
 broad i)asis of British j)ower. 
 
 Thus the Lord Marshal argued wiiii the 
 rear-guard of his conscience, as it withdrew
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 169 
 
 slowly, and left tlic field io liativd aiid am- 
 bition. 
 
 He was embarrassed by his intimacy with 
 O'Neil, which had somehow or other been 
 forced upon him ; and liad assumed, to his great 
 annoyance, almost the name and seniblnnoe of 
 friendship. Tliey were universally considered 
 as attached friends : and what was worse, he 
 was re})uted to be indebted for his present liigh 
 rank to that friendship. The events of the 
 siege of Carrickrohan were known to all the 
 army in Irehmd, and Bagnal was by no means 
 pleased with the figure he made in the popular 
 stories concerning it. It was also said that 
 O'Neil had used his supposed influence with 
 the Queen, in procuring his friend's high ap- 
 pointment to be Lord Marshal of Ireland. 
 
 All these circumstances added greatly to 
 Bagnal's perplexities. He had never liked 
 O'Xeil ; and in the whole course of their inter- 
 course, the latter had always contrived to put 
 him in the wrong. He was more highly es.teemed 
 in the army for his soldierly (jualities, jind 
 united to these, all those various accomplish- 
 ments of the fine gentleman, which are so envi- 
 able and so unac(]uireable. O'Neil was ever 
 courteous and condescending ; and therefore he 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 TICE AnVLNTinKRS. 
 
 was always, and in all circles, popular. While 
 the Lord Marshal, when he stepped out of hi^ 
 self-iinportiuice and reserve, only made himscll 
 ridiculous. Sensible, at length, of this, he gave 
 up all attempts at airabllity, and drew closer 
 about liini tho mantle of his dipiity. 
 
 The Marshal was lost in astonishment at the 
 conduct of his sister, ui undertaking such a 
 journey, under the guidance of such a man ; an(^ 
 surjnised that his brt)ther, dull as he took him 
 to be, should commit his oidy sister to the pro- 
 tection of a mere Irishman. O'Neil was of that 
 easy and insinuatuig character which Hagnal 
 most distrusted and disliked, and which he 
 thought ouirht never to be trusted with woman- 
 kind. Me wished his sister was any where, away 
 from O'Neil, though he hardly wished her under 
 his own roof. 
 
 To the keen glance of O'Neil, Bagnal's heart 
 was revealed in his letter. He knew, that not- 
 withstanding his efforts, he had made but little 
 progress in his good o])inion, and he was oflend- 
 ed by the consciousness ol his failure. He had 
 seldom been unsuccessful in his attacks upon the 
 heart, whedier of man or woman. He was ac- 
 quainted with all the windings and covert ways 
 by which this mysterious fortress is approaclied,
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 171 
 
 and was perfect master of every plan and system 
 of l>ele;i<riierinent. Miss Baicnal was perhaps the 
 only youn«r woman who liad iK'en long in liis 
 society without caHing forth tlie least exercise 
 of gallantry. This was partly owing to the 
 diameter of the lady herself, which admitted of 
 no common-place trifling, and pardy to a cer- 
 tain seriousness which at that time dwelt uiwn 
 the mind of O'Neil, and admitted no division 
 of thought, or straying of the imaghiation. 
 
 The time was now arrived, and sooner than 
 he had anticipated, when he could dispense with 
 the friendship of the Lord Marshal. Still, he 
 would have been better ])leased if it could have 
 l)een won ; but he thought he had in any case 
 laid him under such obligations, that he could 
 hardly he his enemy. 
 
 Miss Bai^nal felt cxceedinfjly hurt at the 
 coldness of her brother's letter, and his ill-dis- 
 guised displeasure. She had, herself, certainly 
 felt sdme scruples, as to the pr()})riety of com- 
 mitting herself to the care of O'Neil, but these 
 were over-ruled by her elder brother's apparent 
 confidence : and the conduct of O'Neil, subse- 
 (juently, had fully justified his good opinion. If 
 he were a man not to be trusted, her brother 
 should not have introduced him to their family. 
 I 2
 
 172 Tin; A1J\ IM'I IlKRS. 
 
 But she consoled licrscif hy tliinkiiifr, that she 
 should ciisiiy remove this displeasure, from 
 wliatcver source it arose, when she came to 
 recount to Sir Henry Bagnal the amiable and 
 attentive politeness of his friend. 
 
 O'Neil and his fair charge set out once more 
 upon their journey, escorted, with more pomj) 
 than before, by a guard of twenty gallow-glasse 
 and ten mounted servants, well armed. Botii 
 travelled on horseback ; for tliere were then no 
 post-chaises, nor any other mode of travelling in 
 Ireland, than the back of a horse. Their bag- 
 gage and refreshments were also bonie in the 
 same manner ; for travellers, in those days, did 
 not trust to the accommodations of inns, of 
 which there was a great scarcity, and such as 
 could be met with not very good. There were, 
 however, a few inns at that period, but they 
 were confined to the English district of the Pale : 
 these were generally established by old soldiers, 
 and followers of the British army, and depended 
 for their sujiport upon the frequent movements 
 of the military. 'J'he Irish, in their incursions, 
 considered them harndess, and seldom molested 
 them. In the Irish territory, inns were unne- 
 cessary. Those who came with introductions to 
 the chiefs were cordially received ; and those
 
 THE ADVENTURKnS. 173 
 
 who came witli none, had tlie stranger's title ^ 
 The old poHce of Ireland, under the Brehon 
 law, established an inn or caravaiisanj in every 
 handet and district of the country, where stran- 
 gers were received and suppUed with every 
 thing they needed, at the public expense. When 
 the Danish and English invasions, and all the 
 disorders that followed, broke up the ancient 
 system of polity, and left the stranger without 
 this public resource, it was abundantly supplied 
 by the kindness and hospitidity of the peo})le. 
 And even now, iii the reign of George the 
 Fourth, the traveller will find, especially in the 
 remote districts of the island, that the poorer 
 people have a full impression of the stra?iger's 
 title. Nor is it long since there were some 
 instances to be met with amongst a few remain- 
 ing branches of Milesian rank, of this unques- 
 tioning and unrestrained hospitality of the olden 
 tune, hut these branches have withered and 
 perished, and it is almost past. 
 
 But not entirely ; for even while we translate 
 this valuable manuscri])t, we know one solitary 
 instance of old Irish hospitality still remaining 
 in this altered land, and of \>iruh we have often 
 ourselves been partakers. We have often 
 !)etaken ourselves, when in want of cash, to the 
 I 3
 
 174 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 iDtenninable cottage of Mac Finin Duff, which 
 supplied the place of his once proud paternal 
 halls. No introduction was necessary to Mac 
 Finin ; he incjuired no man's business or name ; 
 he did not ask him where he came from, nor 
 whither he was going ; nor was it ever known 
 that he showed any symptoms of weariness of a 
 guest. It may well be supposed that his house 
 was seldom empty. Indeed, the number of his 
 guests generally varied from one score to three ; 
 and the kitchen was as crowded as his drawinjj- 
 room, if drawing-room it could be called, with 
 another description of visitors. 
 
 How the gentleman managed it (for he was 
 drowned not long since) no one could tell. 
 But with a very narrow income he contrived 
 to feed and to lodge half the country. It was 
 more easily arranged in the days of Elizabeth, 
 when a vigorous foray upon the domains of a 
 neighbouring chief supplied the wherewithal. 
 The new race of Irish gentry that succeeded 
 tlie O's and Macs, though cut off from this 
 ready means of supplying their household, found 
 a tolerable substitute. They did not drive 
 away, it is true, their neighbour's cattle, but 
 they did better : they quartered themselves upon 
 the public purse, and forayed in the guise of
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 176 
 
 corporate bodies, in fiscal, clerical, and forensic 
 departments. 
 
 And yet, with all these resources, their hos- 
 pitality was much mure scanty than that of tiie 
 Milesians, who kept open house in hall and 
 kitchen. If the guest happened to he in humble 
 life, he was, perhaps, only the better off for it ; 
 for I have always remarked that servants, when 
 permitted to entertain strangers at their master's 
 cost, are the most hospitable souls alive. 
 
 Tlie Catholic clergy may be said to have 
 taken up the torch of Irish hospitality, when it 
 was dashed so rudely from the grasp of the 
 chiefs; and though, poor gentlemen, it burns 
 but dimly in their hands, that is not their fault. 
 If there is not good cheer, there is at least a 
 hearty welcome for the stranger, and often both, 
 at the priest's cottiige, when he nmst not venture 
 to knock at the elegant mansion of the Protest- 
 ant clergyman without some polite or important 
 introduction. If the stranger happen to know 
 my Lord , or Mr. Secretary . or Com- 
 missioner , he may, perhaps, be received 
 
 with politeness, otherwise he had better go on 
 
 to the priest's manse, even though he may l>e 
 
 a Protestant The priest will not ask him liis 
 
 I 4
 
 176 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 religion, when it is only a (question of shelter 
 and entertainment. 
 
 ()' Neil's cavalcade directed their course north- 
 west, traversing a fine country abounding with 
 plentiful streams and luxuriant woods. A 
 great part of this rich country was in a 
 state of nature, showing, however, that it was 
 not always so, by the traces of cultivation 
 which were every where visible. But savage 
 nature, aided by her old ally, war, had resumed 
 her ancient dominion, and sat triumphing over 
 the feeble works of man. 
 
 The ruins of houses and inclosures, and the 
 traces of the plough, marked the line of the road 
 they travelled on each side, but no human face 
 was to be seen. Now and then one of those 
 s(juare towers presented itself, which were the 
 sti'ong-holds of the Irish chiefs, and had been 
 generally erected in the late reign ; but as far 
 as the travellers had yet observed, they were all 
 deserted. And the small thatched cottages 
 which were found invariably clustering round 
 the castle walls had shared the fate of their 
 protector, and were tenantless. 
 
 This waste and beautiful tract of country was 
 infested by robbers and biuiditti of every class
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 177 
 
 and ilcnomination ; and the saint and the pilirrini 
 shared its solitude, or iiidul«retl their hiziiiess or 
 knavery in its woods and caves, or ruined mo- 
 nasteries. 
 
 The desohition of so fair a scene is more me- 
 lancholy than the dreariness of the mountain 
 district, whose savage and solitary spirit proudly 
 repels the hand of man, and scorns his sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 The second day*s journey, for the roads did 
 not permit rapid travelling, brought the travel- 
 lers to a })oint where the road ran through a 
 narrow-wooded glen, on both sides of which 
 the hills rose into precipices nearly perpendi- 
 cular : as they advanced, the acclivities receded, 
 arranfrintr themselves in the manner of an am- 
 phitheatre, to give place to a considerable lake, 
 formed by the confluence of several mountain 
 streams. In the centre of this lake was an 
 island, a small part of which had the ap})earance 
 of being cultivatetl, the rest was green, and the 
 whole was interspersed with clumps and scat- 
 tered trees of great size and beauty. 
 
 On one side of the island, not far from the 
 
 water, stood a monastery of (iotiiic arcliitecture. 
 
 It was small, but in g(K)d preservation, and 
 
 appeared to have escaped, probably by roa^^tin 
 
 I 5
 
 178 THE AUVENTUKERS. 
 
 ol" its situation, any visitation ironi the refonning 
 spirit ol that age, or of Elizabeth's reformed 
 soldiers. The travellers halted to gaze upon 
 this trancjuil and lovely scene, which, unlike 
 any they had yet met with, showed marks ol' 
 care and cultivation. As tliey stood, they per- 
 ceived a figure on the island approacliing slowly 
 the water's edge, which seemed the very image 
 of old time. His head was ornamented with 
 something resembling a flaimel cap, and a long 
 white beard descended from his chin to his 
 middle. In his hand he ciu^ried a staft*, tlie 
 sunnnit of which reached far above his head, 
 while the downward end assisted his feeble 
 movements as he drew towards the shore. 
 
 This venerable figure was now busy loosing 
 a small boat from its moorings, which lay almost 
 concealed in a little nook of the island, over- 
 sliadowed by a groat tree that dipt its branches 
 into the water, and made a complete arch over 
 the canoe. Every eye was fixed upon the aged 
 boatman, who, having at length accomplished 
 liis task, stepped with difficulty into his little 
 skifT, and paddUd slowly across the lake to 
 where the travellers stood. When he had ar- 
 rived within a few yards of them, he stopped 
 his boat, and in a piteous and moving voice
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 179 
 
 asked for alms tor the convent, and tor t)»e 
 great saint M 'Cull u in, uho residid within its 
 holy precincts. 
 
 "* Throw a few pence into the lx>at, gentle- 
 folks, tor the sake of your (nvn >^ouls: you will 
 tind the benefit at the last day." 
 
 He was answered, that if he would draw in 
 close to shore, he should get the money he 
 iisked for. But he appeared too deaf to un- 
 derstand this invitation, or unwilling to com- 
 prehend it. 
 
 It was repeated in a louder voice. 
 
 But the louder he was called to, the more 
 cautiously he kept from the shore. 
 
 At length one of the gallow-glasses, laying 
 down his arms, rushed into the water, and at- 
 tempted to seize the boat, l^ut to the surprise 
 of the spectators, the aged navigator received 
 the assailant u})on the point of his oar with 
 such vigour and address, as tripped the soldier 
 off his feet, and plunged him in the water, tlien 
 putting about with great dexterity, he j>repared 
 for flight ; but twenty nuiskets levelled at him 
 seconded too forcibly the order not to move. 
 The next command was to put to shore. 
 
 With a bold and haughty air the boatman 
 demurred for an instant. Then resumin^r his 
 I 6
 
 180 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 feeble ami complaining manner and •gesture, he 
 pulled slowly to the beach. As he approached, 
 he said it was hard usa<re towards a poor old 
 man, who only obeyed the voice of his master, 
 the ^reat saint M'Cullum, never to touch the 
 shore with his boat, — but the sin be upon 
 those who compelled him, and the curse, — 
 and no one ever throve whom M'C'ullmn 
 cursed. 
 
 " Why should he curse us," said O'Neil, 
 " who desire only to be a little better acquainted 
 with him." 
 
 " His island is holy," said the boatman: "the 
 toot of tlie Saxon never touched it, — but the 
 land ye tread on is polluted by his presence, 
 and those who come from it bring guilt and 
 sin with them." 
 
 " Well," said O'Neil, " we will even visit 
 your saint, that he may cleanse us from our 
 impurities." 
 
 " God forbid !" replied the boatman, chisping 
 his hands together upon liis bosom : " it would 
 be death to any one who^e unbidden foot press- 
 ed tli€ shore of Innisdune." 
 
 " We have our saints too, my gooil fellow, 
 rejoined O'Neil, whose prayers will preserve us 
 from the maledictions of M*Cullum."
 
 THE ADVENTUIIEIIS. 181 
 
 e 
 
 ** If vou will jro," said the (lisconcertcd navi- 
 gator of the lake, cr().ssin<^ himself aiul imitturing 
 a prayer, " I wash my hands out of it;" then suf- 
 fering his staff' to fall, he knelt down in the 
 boat, and prayed aloud for the unhappy adven- 
 turers who were about to doom themselves to 
 destruction. 
 
 O'Neil at once perceived that this kind hearted 
 devotion was intended to act upon the minds 
 of his men. " You see, my lads," said he, turning 
 to his followers, " if we have not the prayers of 
 ihe Saint, we have those of the servant, and 
 jierhaps he is as good a man." 
 
 "• 1 low old are you, most venerable Charon ?" 
 said he, turning to the ferryman. 
 
 " I shall be fourscore and three years next 
 St. John's day, God willing that I should live 
 so long." 
 
 " Upon my word, old man I should like to 
 preserve such vigour of arm at your age, if I 
 should be so fortunate or so unfortunate as to 
 reach it: from what I know of Kedmontl there, 
 it is no weak arm could overturn him." 
 
 " His foot slipped, poor fellow," said tiic 
 boatman. Redmond, who was sitting down on 
 the grass, not a little disconcerted with his over- 
 throw, denied this in the most positive manner,
 
 J 82 Tin: adventurers. 
 
 and insisted that he was upset by ns cursed a 
 douse as ever he got in his hte." 
 
 " That eye too," continued O'Neil, " presences 
 an uncommon lustre for your age ;*' — for just at 
 that moment tlie soldier's gruff' discontent gave 
 an air of humour to the boatman's countenance, 
 and his eye glistened with pleasure ; but check- 
 ing himself immediately, he turned with a slow 
 and solenm look towards O'Neil, and said, " I 
 have a rheum, Sir, that makes ray eye glisten." 
 
 " And what is it that makes your beard grow, 
 friend,'* said O'Neil, taking sudden hold of this 
 venerable appendage, and chucking it oftj — and 
 behold ! the aged boatman was suddenly trans- 
 fomied into a stout, vigorous young fellow ! 
 
 The whole party laughed loud at this meta- 
 morphosis. But the ex])osed ancient stood se- 
 rious and unmoved. I le no longer pretended 
 to antiquity : but when the merriment had 
 subsided for an instant, he addressed himself 
 to O'Neil." 
 
 *« What evil did we do to you, O'Xeil, that 
 you should come to persecute us in our hiding 
 place ? Is it not enough that your father's son 
 has joined with the Saxons, and shed the blood 
 of his own countrymen ? and now he corner
 
 THE ADVENTUKKUS. 183 
 
 to Strip us of tliese poor disguises, and liuiii 
 us in our last retreat." 
 
 This address was delivered with a ^ravc 
 and di<rnitied energy, at once reproachful and 
 pathetic, which })roduced an effect upon all 
 who heard him. 
 
 " I do not come to you as an enemy, Darby,'' 
 replied O'Neil, for he now recognised the man, 
 " nor shall any one learn from me or my followers 
 the place of your concealment. No one ever 
 said that O'Neil broke his word of honor. 
 Darby." 
 
 " I cannot say it," saul die man. 
 
 " And, perhaps," continued O'Neil, '" I come 
 for good, not for evil, to your convent; but I must 
 visit your saint." 
 
 '* There is no saying nay to the O'Neil," 
 said the boatman. *• I cannot be blamed if I 
 act according to the proverb, and let you do 
 your will." 
 
 " You incur no blame in Ht>t preventing 
 what you have no power to oppose. However, 
 don't tear. I tell you again I come lor good 
 to your convent, not for evil." 
 
 The boatman, now somewhat assured, took 
 courage, and prepared his boat, and O'Neil and 
 Miss Bagnal, and three of their servants, were
 
 lS4t TUn ADVKNTUUERS. 
 
 speedily put on shore on the holy island ul 
 Innibdinie. 
 
 From the water's ed«^e to the monastery, 
 their way hiy through a row of" majestie oak^ 
 whieh terminated at a Httle garden tastefully 
 enclosed by a rustic fence. 'I'lie garden sur- 
 rounded the east angle of the monastery, and 
 ran along most part of the south side of th» 
 building. It was neat and elegant, and the 
 wall of the convent was thickly covered with 
 fruit trees and vines, wliich spread their clus- 
 tering tendrils round the narrow latticed win- 
 dows that looked upon this little Eden. Within 
 one of these, which was ojien, a very neat 
 apartment was visible, with a crucifix and 
 some books upon a small oak table. 
 
 The church was Gothic, but of plain and 
 simj)le architecture for that style, and seemed 
 of no great anti(]uity : it was in all respects 
 in perfect preservation, and had about it an air 
 of being carefully attended to, very uncommon 
 in Ireland, wiiere the precariousness of projKrty 
 encouraged a disposition to neglect its [)reserv- 
 ation. A disposition which seems to have 
 taken root in the country, under the careful 
 cultivation bestowed by IJrilish ministers upon 
 it during several reigns, and some shoots from
 
 THE ADVfeNTUUERS. 185 
 
 which may perhaps be still (hscerned even in 
 our own auspicious days. 
 
 The travellers entered the huiUling by a 
 small oak door cased with iron, which led into 
 the aisle, but was not the princi})al entrance. 
 Here O'Neil inniiediately recognized the portly 
 figure of liis friend M'Egan, who probably 
 acted the part of saint M'Cullum, kneeling in 
 .\n attitude of solenm devotion before an altar. 
 A young woman wearing a veil knelt by his 
 side, wliose ear being (juicker than the priest's, 
 caught first the sound of footsteps, and fled with 
 precipitation, disappearing by a small door be- 
 hind the altar. 
 
 " ^V^lat's the matter, my dear?" said the priest, 
 but turning at the same instant, he beheld the 
 cause of her flight. 
 
 M'Egan crossed himself, and in a voice of 
 surj)rize and terror exclaimed, " What, halUw, 
 we are betrayed !" at the same time lie ran to 
 pull the rope of the great bell of the monastery 
 which hung near him. 
 
 O'Neil prevented this movement by seizing his 
 arm, " M*Egan, do you not know inc ? Why 
 are you alarmed ?" 
 
 " You took me unawares," said the priest, 
 recovering himself and recognising the intruder ;
 
 186 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 " but I am glad to see you, O'Neil, thougli 
 how you could have come upon the island 
 without my knowing it, surprizes me. That 
 traitor " 
 
 " Nay, my good abbot, do not blame Darby, 
 he did all that man could do. But I hardly 
 expected to find the great arm of the churcli 
 militiuit. in Ireland enjoying this inglorious 
 repose," 
 
 " Yes, you call it rightly an inglorious re- 
 pose ; while the daughter of the stranger is 
 pushing her dominion into every corner of 
 the land. But if we were even disposed to 
 this inactivity, the Saxons will not long suf- 
 fer it." 
 
 " How has it happened that the Saxon 
 terrier, which surpasses our wolf-dog in scent, 
 has not yet discovered this fair nook of earth, 
 M'Egan ?" 
 
 " It will not long escape him : give him full 
 credit, I pray you, for the excellence of his 
 nose ; 'twill not be long before he tries to uneartfi 
 us. But, O'Neil, I have something for your 
 private ear." 
 
 Saying this, he led the chieftain into a con- 
 fessional, and shutting the door, they remained 
 for some minutes in close conference.
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 187 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 When they returned, O'Neil iiiLroduced tlie 
 Prior of Innisdune to Miss Bagnal as his good 
 friend. Miss Bagnal had been a Httle curious 
 to see tliat extraordinary animal, an Irish priest. 
 She had known English priests, and one ol 
 them had been her preceptor; but she had 
 acquired a notion that an Irish priest must be 
 quite another sort of creature, uniting all the 
 odd and whimsical peculiarities of \us country 
 to the singularities of his condition as a priest- 
 And certainly M*Egan was a good specimen, or 
 as the artists say, a good study for the young 
 lady, having some of the virtues and many of 
 the faults both of his country and his cloth. 
 
 The prior now proposed that the lady should 
 take rest and refreshment, and leading her by 
 the door behind the altar, he introduced them 
 into a spacious apartment, furnished with every 
 thing requisite to comfort and convenience. 
 The room was ornamented with portraits of
 
 188 THi: ADVENTURERS. 
 
 M^Columbkil, and other Irish saints, who hud 
 been, as the prior observed, oriiainentii of the 
 Irish church in the ha])py days of its independ- 
 ence, and before its connexion with Rome tuid 
 the Saxons ; which unhicky connexion, he said, 
 came together Hke twin-woes. We might here 
 observe, that the prior was not considered ortho- 
 dox by the adherents of Rome in the Irish 
 churcli, (for the Church was then, and for cen- 
 turies before, divided into a Roman and an 
 Irish party,) and he was strongly suspected of 
 favouring the eastern mode of celebrating Easter; 
 a schism which, like that of the Big-endians and 
 Little-endians in the empire of Lilliput, once 
 shook the Christian churcli to its foundation. 
 But the court of Rome had generally suc- 
 ceeded in establishing its doctrine and authority, 
 as Caesar and Charlemagne had established their 
 empire, having, like these potentates, the ad- 
 vantage of a concentrated and absolute power. 
 
 Portraits of the superiors of the monastery de- 
 corated one side of the apartment in a long line 
 of saintly visages, each displaying the date of 
 his reign, and showing that the great antiquity 
 of the house was greater than had been ima- 
 gined. Over the ample fne-place was fixed 
 the chief ornament, if it coukl be so called.
 
 THE ADV-KNTIREUS. 189 
 
 an exquisite carving, in ivory, of the crucifixion, 
 supported on each side by portraits of the muni- 
 ficent founders of the convent, Donald Maguire, 
 and Derniid his son, wlio had rebuih it, and 
 endowed it with ackhtional huids, in the year 
 1371. 
 
 On one side of this comfortable apartment 
 was a large oak-table, curiously carveil, and 
 highly polished, which displayed the abundant 
 store of the holy anchorite, M'Cullum : — 
 wines in great variety and excjuisite flavour, 
 grapes and fruits of various kinds, and the 
 more substantial cheer of roast beef, strong ale, 
 and cakes. The rich carpet which ornamented 
 the floor, and most of the substantial furniture 
 of this apartment, appeared to be of continental 
 manufacture, as was, undoubtedly, the beautiful 
 stained glass of the large Cloth ic window, on 
 which the sun now threw all the full glo*v of 
 his splendour, investing the saints that figured 
 upon the glass with the brightness of that split iv 
 they were supposed to enjoy above. 
 
 The prior rang a little bell on the chimney- 
 piece, and in a few minutes Father M'Derniot, 
 whom O'Neil had bilbrc' seen at the ruins of 
 Carrickrohan, appeared leading in his sister, the 
 governor's widow. hJhe was tlie same who had
 
 190 Tin: ADVF.NTl'RKHS. 
 
 fled from tho djaptl on the approach of the 
 strangers, and the same, also, whom O'Neiihad 
 seen at the cave of Carrickrohan Castle. The 
 prior introduced the lady and htr brother to 
 Miss Bagnal and O'Neil; and the former was 
 not a little delighted to meet one of her own sex, 
 and apparently so amiable, in this alxxle of 
 monkery. M'Dermot appeared more coiii- 
 posed and rational than when O'Neil saw him 
 last, and his sister also wore an air of quiet and 
 Irancjuil resignation. The traces of grief were 
 on her countenance ; but it was grief disciplined 
 and subdued. 
 
 O'Neil, as he partook heartily of the sub- 
 stantial fare of the convent, rallied the prior 
 upon the poverty of the poor monastery of In- 
 nisdune, and its mendicant boatman stricken in 
 years. M'Dermot shook his head. " I cannot 
 see the use of this artifice," said he ; " but the 
 jnior is wiser than I am, and he says it is inno- 
 cent and useful. As to this good fare, it is fur- 
 nished by the lands of the convent, and is the 
 property of the traveller and the tlestitute, who 
 share it freely ; perhaps, however, we should do 
 better without these domains, which are a snare 
 to us poor mortals. We are all, within the 
 convent, as abstemious as if we possessed them
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 191 
 
 not, except tlic prior, and our lay-brother tlic 
 steuanl. I am also bound to say, for the prior 
 and the steward, that if tliey use freely of our 
 good things, they manage our tenants also, and 
 that never were there a more contented and 
 comfortable tenantry." 
 
 " You have made a good defence for them, 
 M*Dermot, so I will say no more about your 
 good things, but will use them freely also." 
 
 " The O'Neil," said the prior, " has a just 
 title to all we can offer. These lands were the 
 • rrunt of his ancestor to the noble Maguire, 
 from whom we derive." 
 
 '' I was ignorant of that fact," said O'NeiJ ; 
 '* but those days are passed, wlien The O'Neil 
 could make grants to nobles and to churches." 
 
 " They may come again," repUed the })rior, 
 ** if we are true to ourselves." 
 
 " But there is the very difficulty," said 
 M*Dermot. " Our divisions are incurable ; and 
 into these divisions the stranger will ever pierce, 
 and always subdue us." 
 
 " I can pardon the despondency which 
 always tinges your views, M'Dermot," said 
 the prior. " It ha.s been derived from your own 
 family misfortunes, and is natural ; but do not 
 destroy, by these forebodings, the hopes which
 
 J 92 Tlir ADVENTl'HERS. 
 
 the iKiiion l)i'«^iMs to entertain of O'Neil. My 
 (kar hrotlRT, M'I)unn<jt," continued the 
 prior, addressing himseir to O'Neil, "has been 
 niehuicholy, and not (jiiite himself for some 
 time; and after wliat he has suflere(l, it is no 
 wonder if he (h'spairs." 
 
 0*Neii made no observation ; and tlie ladies 
 rose and withdrew. They were followed by 
 M'Dennoi ; and O'Neil and the prior being 
 left together, the former encjuired what were 
 his adventures since he had seen him last at 
 the cave of Carrickrohan. 
 
 " Two days after the Lord Dejnity," saiti the 
 prior, *' had left his encampment, we ventured 
 from our fox-hole; and having collected a fe\\ 
 resolute followers, who had esca])ed the mas- 
 sacre at the castle, and a few peasants, we set 
 out for this convent. But while on our way. 
 Sir Henry Bagnal having obtained his paten' 
 of appointment as Lord Marshal, iiul direction 
 to repair to the north-west, and assume the 
 command of that district, he left the Deputy, 
 then on his march to Dublin, and wheeling 
 suddenly about, by a rapid movement, came on 
 our little party, and dispersed it. As the least 
 active, I fell into the enemy's hands, as did also 
 M'Dermot and his sister ; the latter being too
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 193 
 
 feeble to fly, and the former too good to desert 
 her." 
 
 " And how did Bap^ial treat you?" 
 " Like dogs at first, hut s});u*ed our lives. 
 At length he saw Mac Dennot's sister by acci- 
 dent, and every thing was changed. We were 
 attended with the utmost care, and ahnost per- 
 secuted with poHteness. The poor widow was 
 the last to discern the cause of all this. We 
 arrived at length at his seat of government, at 
 Erne Castle, on the great Lakes of Lough 
 Erne, which had been the chief residence of the 
 Mac Guire. 
 
 " Here commenced a series of tender perse- 
 cutions, directed against the widow, which in 
 any other circumstances would have furnished 
 us all, as they did most of the Marshal's house- 
 hold, with infinite mirth. The thing was the 
 more diverting, because the poor man had ever 
 been a professed woman-hater, and a professed 
 hater of the Irish ; and amongst these, particu- 
 larly, of the Irish Papists. It was a most mali- 
 cious trick of the wanton little deity of the bow 
 and quiver. But it soon l)eciune a serious matter ; 
 tor the widow hated the Marshal as cordially as 
 the Marshid despised all her countrymen and 
 countrywomen. lie was supposed to be the 
 VOL. I. K.
 
 1^4 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 leader of the attack upon Carrickrohan, and 
 therefore she considered hiiu as guilty of the 
 death of her hushand. You know, O'Xeil, how- 
 far that is true." 
 
 O'Neil was silent, and the prior proceeded : 
 " The Marshal, beside, made love like a bear. 
 All unused to the gentle ))assion, Cupid's arrow 
 only made him violent and furious. He made 
 all manner of antic and absurd capers and tum- 
 bles, but he made no way with the widow ; and 
 at length he was disposed to proceed to vio- 
 lence, and would have done mischief, if I had 
 not contrived an escape." 
 
 " And how has he gone on since ?" 
 
 " Oh, it is but a few days since we have got 
 out of the claws of the bear; and my spies 
 inform me, that he has been in a sort of inter- 
 mittent fever, whose access is sometimes love, 
 and sometimes ambition, and that he is equally 
 violent in both. My last advices were, that he 
 was on the point of setting out in search of his 
 foir one." 
 
 " lliis is strange information, certainly," 
 said O'Neil. " That the sullen and haughty 
 Bagnal could be so conquered, is amazing. He 
 is a man capable of great things, if his preju- 
 dices did not contract his mind. I sought to
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 195 
 
 make him my friend, from a conviction of his 
 abilities, but I did not succeed ; and I am now 
 on my way to his castle, with his sister under 
 my charge, who has abilities even superior to 
 his own, without his defects. This unreason- 
 able hatred of the Irish lias been the cause of 
 most of his errors ; and this new fit of love for 
 one of them, will perhaps lead him into still 
 more dangerous ones. What security have 
 you that Bagnal will not find you out ?" 
 
 " I have taken every precaution ; beside, the 
 De Burgos are strong, and will soon give him 
 employment" 
 
 " Are they openly in arms ?" 
 
 " They are in arms openly enough, but have 
 as yet only forayed their neighbours a little, 
 complaining at the same time to the Lord De- 
 puty that they have been driven to this by the 
 Lord Marshall's injustice and partiality. In 
 fact, however, I believe that the proud De Hurgo 
 has been offended by the unbending deportment 
 of the Marshal, who affects to treat him as a 
 mere Irishman ; while De Burgo, who is even 
 haughtier than the Desmond was in all his 
 pride, considers himself superior alike to the 
 old Irish and the new English." 
 K 2
 
 196 THE ADVKNTUKERS. 
 
 ** I liavc heard that tlie Marslial has l^eeii 
 acquning some taste for rortbitures." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it ; but if so lie lias 
 chosen his game badly, for Do Hurgo has too 
 much interest at court." 
 
 " He will probably try his hand first on some 
 of the mere Irish who have no friends at all, 
 and I think I see his game Prior, and not so 
 bad a one as you imagine. He has only to 
 irritate the old chief into hostilities, which is 
 very easily done, and then De Burgo will draw 
 after him some of the minor Irish in his neigh- 
 bourhood. After a little fighting, the govern- 
 ment will interfere ; De Burgo and the Marshall 
 will make it up at the expense of the unlucky 
 Irish allies of the former, whose lands will Ix* 
 divided between the two gentlemen, in order to 
 effect a sincere reconcilement. It was the habit 
 of our pagan ancestors to make sacrifices on 
 such occasions ; a habit which the Saxons of 
 both blood still wisely continue." 
 
 " By the bones of Colunibkil, said the Prior, 
 you have unravelled it ! — yes ! and these new 
 comers will succeed in finally exterminating 
 the Irish of old and new race, unless some one 
 of birth and power, and ability for the task, will 
 take tlie lead in our affairs and unite under one
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 197 
 
 head the broken branches of the Irish monarchy 
 — O'Xeil, thou ai*t the man." 
 
 At this instiuit the sound of a bugle caught 
 their ears — they listened — and it came again 
 and again upon the wind, as it swept gently 
 through the hollows of the mountains. What 
 could it be ? As they looked this question at 
 each other, still listening attentively, the door 
 was opened, and the young widow of M'Mahon 
 entered with a countenance of woe, and sighs 
 bursting from her bosom. When she could 
 speak, she said that news had arrived that the 
 Lord Marshal was approaching by the moun- 
 tain road, at the head of some light cavalry and 
 infantry. This information seemed to puzzle 
 l)odi the gentlemen. 
 
 The Prior endeavoured to soothe the latly, 
 and to reassure her, stating the probability, if 
 it were the Lord Marshal, that he was proceed- 
 ing upon some excursion unconnected witli tlie 
 convent ; and that in any case the monastery 
 was secure in its insular situation, and well 
 provided for defence. Having with difficulty 
 charmed away for a moment the forebodings 
 of her anxious spirit, he led her out of the 
 room, and returned immediately to consult with 
 O'Neil upon this awkward occurrence. ** Wo 
 K 3
 
 198 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 lire prepared," said he, as he entered, " to make 
 a stout defence, and we will luive to try it I fancy ; 
 for if it be Bairnal that is coming, lie w ill hardlv 
 refuse himself the luxury of sacking a convent, 
 thouirh he should know notliin<r of its inmates. 
 But it is certainly possible that he has discovered 
 his reluctant fair one. \Miat shall we do 
 O'Neil ?" 
 
 " It is an awkward occurrence," said the 
 earl ; " but I am your guest, Prior, and if he 
 attack your peaceful monastery, J shall feel 
 myself bound to assist you to defend it. No 
 matter what commission he bears who wars 
 against the rights of religion and humanity." 
 
 « Spoke like the O'Neil," said the Prior ; 
 " then let the Saxon come : I do not fear him 
 now." 
 
 " Do not be too sanguine, my good Prior ; 
 we do not yet know what force the Marshal 
 brings — but haste and make your arrangements, 
 while I get my followers to the island." 
 
 O'Neil walked to the little cove where the 
 boat was moored, and made signal to his men 
 on the main land to come over. His signal 
 was instantly obeyed by the wliole party, horse 
 and foot plunging into the water and swimming 
 to shore. While this was transacting, the great 
 bell of the monastery tolled awfully, its solemn
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 199 
 
 echoes answering to the notes of the hiigle, 
 which still swelled louiler and louder through 
 this region of hills. This was followed by the 
 hoisthig of a red flag boniered with green, as a 
 signal of danger, on the principal tower of the 
 monastery. 
 
 O'Neil ordered his men into the convent, 
 while he remained himself on the beach imder 
 tile shade of the jireat elm that overhuufr the 
 cove, listening to the noise of these unwelcome 
 visitors. Other noises were now also heard ; the 
 peasants were seen collecting on the tops of 
 the hills, and issuing in groups from the gorges 
 of the mountains ; and the whole scene which 
 a few minutes before was a perfect solitude, 
 where the only uihabitants seemed the foxes, 
 and rabbits, and the fine trees which spread 
 their great branches to the sun and reigned over 
 this beautiful seclusion, joint tenants with the 
 monks of the monastery, was now full of business 
 and busde, and resounding with tlie hum of 
 iratherinjr multitudes. 
 
 The ancient boatman, now properly appointed 
 with all the appendages of antiquity, took his 
 station on the lake, skirting the shores of die 
 island with the slow movement which so feeble 
 an arm could communicate to his bark. iJut 
 K 4
 
 200 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 l)is vocation seemed perfectly understood by the 
 suiTOiuuling populace, who arranged themselves 
 according to signals whjch he made from the 
 boat. As the sound of the approaching party 
 drew near, the peasants on the hills suddenly 
 disappeared, concealing themselves in the heath 
 and thickets around them. And immediately a 
 sudden winding in the road gave Bagnal's 
 party (for it was his) to view. The bustle that 
 had lately been about the convent was gone, 
 the bell had ceased to toll, the flag was lowered, 
 and not a human creature, or one solitary sound 
 broke the profound tranquillity, except only 
 the feeble boatman and his little bark, and the 
 noise of its small paddle in the water. 
 
 The Marshal's detachment consisted of about 
 thirty horsemen, and about one hundred in- 
 fantry, all well appointed ; with the latter also 
 was a light field-piece, drawn upon something 
 like a sledge. This military array halted on the 
 water's edge opposite the island, and formed 
 line, which movement suddenly checked the 
 progress of the old boatmen, who had com- 
 menced a cautious approach towards the stran- 
 gers, with his usual petition for alms for the 
 poor convent of Innisdune, and the great saint 
 Mac Cullum. He was answered by a peremp-
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 201 
 
 tory order to pull to, which, as he hesitated to 
 obey, was enforced hy a score of levelled mus- 
 kets. He iniiiK'diatcly took up his ours with 
 an air of the most submissive obedience, but in 
 his well-acted terror both oars fell over board, 
 and the feeble navigator, with all his efforts, 
 could not recover them. He now strove to 
 put the boat in motion with his feet and hands, 
 but this exertion soon exhausted the old man's 
 strength, and overcome with the fatigue, he 
 fell Hat upon his face in the bottom of the boat. 
 The canoe, thus left to itself, appeared by some 
 miraculous instinct to find its way to the little 
 harbour under the elm-tree. Whether it was 
 drifted by some current, or guided by some 
 invisible agenc\', is a problem not yet deter- 
 mined in the neighbourhood of Innisdune. An 
 angel, it was said, particularly skilled in naval 
 affairs, always descended u})on these occasions 
 and jruided the boat ; and thoujjh this anjjelic 
 boatman could not be seen by sinful eyes, yet 
 he was visible enough to the saintly vision of 
 the monks of Innisdune. But it is right also 
 to mention, that amon^jst the cottagers of the 
 valley, there were a few to be found, who pro- 
 fanely intimated that J)arby had a small paddle 
 concealed in the keel, which could be put in 
 K 5
 
 202 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 motion by one lying in the bottom of the boat, 
 and that this was the whole secret of the mys- 
 terious motion. But those who cntcrtiiined the 
 latter opinion, were considered bad catholics, 
 and enemies of tlic church, and the Prior, 
 when speaking of them, always shook his head, 
 and said they were sad fellows, and how sorry 
 he was for the dangerous state they were in. 
 
 Bagnal's Saxon soldiers ascribed the motion 
 of the boat to some current of the lake, but 
 tins opinion of theirs did not save the bark and 
 boatman from some symptoms of their disap- 
 pointment, expressed by a few shots fired after 
 them, which, however, produced no effect. An 
 expert swimmer was now despatched to bring 
 the boat from its moorings under the elm, but 
 he was no sooner seen in the water, than the 
 infirm boatman was observed to raise his little 
 bark upon his shoulder, and carry it with great 
 ease into an inclosed yard on one side the mo- 
 nastery. Whilst performing this exploit, he 
 was greeted with a loud liuzza from the En- 
 glish soldiers, delighted and surprised at the 
 feat. 
 
 It was now evident that BagnaPs purpose was 
 to invest the monastery, and his soldiers set 
 themselves to work to cut down timber for the
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 203 
 
 purpose of miikin<r a raft for convey in<^ I heir 
 aminunition and their commander across the 
 water. While they were thus employed, the 
 l)oat was again brought from the monastery on 
 the shoulders of two men, and launched on the 
 lake. They were accompanied by a tliird per- 
 son wearing the habit of an ecclesiastic. Those 
 pulled with a vigorous oar across the water, tlie 
 third person bearing a flag of truce u})on a 
 light wand. Bagnal and his officers hastened 
 to meet the boat, and the ecclesiastic craved an 
 audience of the commander. 
 
 M'hen introduced to the Lord Marshal, he 
 stated that he was deputed by the Prior of In- 
 nisdune to learn the pleasure of the noble officer 
 commanding this detachment. He expresseil 
 his surprise, " that the chief of so respectable a 
 force should entertain hostile intentions against 
 a few peaceful ecclesiastics, whose poverty and 
 seclusion from the world, if not their sacred 
 function, ought to protect them from molesta- 
 tion. It would ill become a noble soldier, es- 
 pecially one bearing the queen of England's 
 commission, to attack a few priests dwelling in 
 peace in their humble convent, and solely oc- 
 cupied, as was tlu ir duty, in ministering to the
 
 204 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 poor and destitute of their neighbourhood, while 
 the country was a prey to handitti, and the 
 criniiiial and guilty enjoyed lull iuniumity." 
 
 The Marshal replied, that " he did not re- 
 c^uire to he instructed in his duty by the sa- 
 gacious fathers of the convent. When he had 
 crossed over to the island, he would fully ex- 
 plain his intentions, and if the convent were 
 opened quietly for his inspection, he would do 
 no injury ; otherwise, he would level it to the 
 ground." lie then pointed to a projecting 
 })oint of rock where he had fixed his cannon, 
 and desired the priest, if he had no more to 
 say, to withdraw. The priest was about to 
 obey, when he was again ordered to be detained ; 
 and the commander informed him, that he 
 should undoubtedly be permitted to return in 
 safety, a favour which was not always granted 
 to persons of his class ; but he would take the 
 liberty of accompanying him, while the soldiers 
 swam across the lake. 
 
 Bagnal, accordingly, and such of his oflicers 
 as could be acconnnodated in the boat, accom- 
 panied the priest to the island, while the sol- 
 diers swam over, keeping even line with the 
 boat, ^^'hen landed on the island, the priest
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 205 
 
 was permitted to return to the convent with 
 tlie Marshal's proposal, which was to be con- 
 sidered as rejecteil if die gates of the monastery 
 were not opened within ten minutes. 
 
 When this time had ehipsed, the gun upon 
 the rock fired a shot, which took effect upon 
 the delicate tower of the convent, and brought 
 down an angle of it in ruins. The war was 
 begun. It was now evening, and nothing far- 
 tlier was done. Tlie Marshal's tent was spread 
 under a great oak, and the soldiers hewed down 
 the large branches of the elms to prepare them- 
 selves beds and watch fires. 
 
 The night was passed, within and without 
 the walls of the convent, in anxious discussion 
 and preparation for the business of the coming 
 day. The prior pressed O'Neil to attempt an 
 attack upon the English during the night, pro- 
 mising that within an hour he would bring a 
 considerable force from the mountains, and leail 
 them himself, l^ut O'Neil preferred acting on 
 the defensive ; he said, that " circumstancetl as 
 he was, he could not at that time take part in 
 an open attack upon the (jueen's troops; lie 
 doubted also, whether such an attack could 
 Nucctcd. and ho had no doubt at all of makini;
 
 206 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 a gCKxl defence against such a force as that now 
 l)efore the monastery. 
 
 The niorninf^ hj^ht, however, showed that 
 Bagnal had, during the night, received a con*- 
 siderable reinforcement, and that the business 
 woukl be more serious than was anticipated. 
 The gunner on the rock now again opened his 
 fire upon the tower of the monastery, but not 
 with such effect or feHcitous direction as before. 
 Many a random bullet went wide of the mark, 
 and " spent its sweetness on the desert air." 
 The object of the assailants seemed to be, to 
 effect a breach in the massive walls of the mo- 
 nastery by the fall of the tower. At length the 
 gunner, like the unlucky sportsman who shot 
 " the blackbird," found a true direction. Shot 
 after shot took effect upon the base of the 
 tower, and the little elegant structure shrieked 
 in its extremity, and, like the wounded bird, 
 reeled, and seemed to flutter on tlie wing as in 
 the agonies of death, and then fell to the earth, 
 and was no more. 
 
 But the tower, which stood on one angle ot 
 the building, fell outwards, and did less damage 
 than the assailants hoped for. The ruins, how- 
 ever, afforded means of ascending towards the 
 top of the wall, and, perhaps, of penetrating
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 207 
 
 through the rent which hiul been made. This 
 was tried, and tailed. Defences were speedily 
 made, and a breast-work raised inside, on which 
 the soldiers of the monastery met die foe, and 
 repulsed them again and again. After repeated 
 attempts to carry the monastery by assault had 
 failed, liagnal, surprised at the resistance he 
 met with, determined to destroy the building 
 by fire. 
 
 He directed the great oaks of the avenue to 
 be felled, which, with the help of gunpowder 
 applied to the trunks, was soon effected ; and 
 collecting all the combustible matter the island 
 afforded, they were applied, together with these 
 great trees, to complete the catiistrophe of this 
 unhappy building. It was a saying of Sir 
 Thomas Moore*s, that " men go to Hell with 
 more pains than they might go to Heaven with." 
 80 the work of destruction, done even upon 
 stone and timber, costs infinitely more labour 
 and trouble than their preservation would have 
 required. 
 
 The attempt to burn tlie convent was some- 
 what alarming to its inmates, and the prior 
 ordered a diversion to be made, by an attack 
 upon the enemy's cannon, which still continued 
 to annoy the monastery. This attack was com-
 
 208 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 pletely successful ; the mountaineers approached 
 the ])oint of rock where it was placed, under 
 cover of the fern and bushwood, and then 
 rushing from their concealment, overthrew the 
 few men guarding the gun, and tearing it from 
 its position, liurled it into the lake. Tiie even- 
 ing was now again closing in, and Bagnal did 
 not attempt to punish this daring enteqirise, 
 but contented himself with hastening his pre- 
 parations for firing the convent. 
 
 During all these operations, the two solitary 
 females of the convent were overwhelmed with 
 terror and dismay. It had been carefully con- 
 cealed from Miss Bagnal, that hir brother was 
 the leader of the attack. But she was a})prised 
 that they were the queen's troops which thus 
 invested the monastery, and without any visible 
 cause or provocation attacked, with fire and 
 sword, the peaceful and secluded retreat of re- 
 ligion and helplessness. What must bu that 
 government, she thought, where such transac- 
 tions (as she learned) were nuitters of daily oc- 
 currence ? She could pardon the senseless fury 
 of a fanatic mob, but this wanton spoliation of 
 the unolfending by the liaiul of jMnver and au- 
 thority, was most revolting. Her indignation 
 was so great, as to counteract, in some degree,
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 909 
 
 lier terror. Slie was supported also by tlie 
 (juiet and heroic courage of the governor's wi- 
 dow, whose first alarm had amounted almost 
 to distraction. She had, however, poured forth 
 her fears in j)rayer, and she arose from this 
 exercise of devotion with a countenance of calm 
 composure, and in the whole progress of the 
 attiick betrayed no more any symptoms of 
 alarm.
 
 210 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 O'Neil now held a council with the fathers of 
 the convent, and it was resolved to abandon the 
 monastery, as soon as the shadows of midnight 
 should favour their escape ; and orders were 
 sent to the mountaineers, that they should cross 
 the water when dark, and attack the English at 
 various points, in order by this diversion to 
 favour the escape of the besieged, who were 
 provided with two good boats within the con- 
 vent for the purpose. 
 
 As soon as this was resolved upon, the bustle 
 of preparation commenced. It was ordered that 
 every thing of value in the monastery, which 
 was portable, should be collected in the aisle of 
 the chapel, and prepared in bundles convenient 
 for being carried to the water's edge. The chapel 
 soon exhibited a rare collection of articles of 
 every kind, according to the tastes and predilec- 
 tions of the various collectors. The prior was 
 observed to direct his attention chiefly to articles
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 211 
 
 of gold and silver plate, the quantity of which 
 was very considerable. Another brother of the 
 convent, whom O'Xeil had not before observed, 
 came loaded with packages containing human 
 bones and skulls, and fragments of worm-eaten 
 timber, and torn pieces of linen and woollen 
 cloth, and some dried leaves and thorns, and a 
 variety of waxen and other images, and cruci- 
 fixes. These were the most precious relics of 
 the convent, and he who bore them had a look 
 of wild and devoted enthusiasm. As he made 
 up his huge packages, he put away the gold 
 and silver articles that lay around him with an 
 air of scorn, as things not to be compared to 
 the invaluable treasures of which he had the 
 care. 
 
 O'Neil observed him for a while with much 
 interest, and then taking the prior aside, he 
 becrired that he would use his influence with 
 
 CO 
 
 the Rev. Father, and persuade him to be con- 
 tent in this emergency, with a few of the more 
 select and least bulky articles of the collection; 
 " for assuredly," said he, " we cannot carry 
 all this lumber with safety to ourselves." 
 
 " It would be hopeless," said the prior. " Any 
 attempt to persuade poor M'Miracle to part 
 with the smallest fragment of his treasures
 
 SIS THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 would be vain. But leave it to me, and I will 
 see what can be done by and by." 
 
 " And what is this now," said O'Neil," when 
 he beheld a father of the order, of tall st^iture 
 and meagre appearance, enter the aisle, labour- 
 ing under the weight of an immense bag, which 
 breaking as he attempted to dislodge it from 
 his shoulders, poured out its contents upon the 
 ground. A cloud of dust enveloped this dis- 
 charge. When it cleared away a little, a num- 
 ber of immense folios were visible, immersed in 
 a crowd of smaller volumes, and surrounded by 
 rolls of parchment of all sizes and dimensions, 
 llie man was a thin, worn-looking figure, with 
 a slight stoop in the shoulders ; his face was as 
 worm-eaten parchment, and his eye was dim : 
 there was an air of abstraction about him, 
 as he stood motionless, in an attitude of horror 
 and dismay, gazing at his scattered books. At 
 length he raised his long lank arms to heaven, 
 and looking upwards, exclaimed with such a 
 voice and nianner of helplessness and passion as 
 children frequently exhibit in their little calami- 
 ties, " Oh, Lord ! what is to be done?" 
 
 " Only to pack up your books again, M*Fo- 
 lio," said the prit)r, answering to this pathetic
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 2 1 S 
 
 appeal, " if you are determinwl to carry all that 
 load." 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! my bag is broken," said the 
 unhappy scholar. And why do you call these 
 lumber, most venerable prior ? These are the 
 treasures of antiquit}-. What would our coun- 
 try be — our convent — ourselves — \£ it were 
 not for these books ? Alas ! that they should 
 be persecuted by the heretics, and almost des- 
 pised by our own people. Poor, unhappy, 
 degenerate country ! But I could read in some 
 of these," said he, taking up a volume, " that 
 it was not always so." 
 
 " Not now, good iSI'Folio ; not now, for 
 heaven's sake," said the prior ; " the enemy are 
 at our gates." 
 
 " Even," said the chronicleer, laying down 
 the book, " even Horace, the learned Pagan, 
 could inform you of the vahie of poor despised 
 scribes like myself, who confer immortality upon 
 the passing shadows of the world, thousands on 
 thousands of whom perish, and are nameless. 
 
 *' Quia carent vatc sacro." 
 
 "It is very true, reverend Fatlier,"said O'Neil ; 
 " but you had better pack up your l)ooks, for 
 we must quit this immediately, and you would
 
 214 THK ADVENTURERS. 
 
 not like to fall into the hands of the Saxons, I 
 presume." 
 
 ** Heaven forbid," said the scribe. *' But 
 see, my Lord, this ba^^ was of Fleniisli manu- 
 facture ; who would have thought it would have 
 burst ?" 
 
 " Here is a better one for you, of Irish weft," 
 said the prior, who now advanced with a strong 
 bag in his hand, such as is used for corn. 
 M*Folio received the bag in silence, and com- 
 menced packing his books in it; lamenting, in 
 a low voice, as he performed the task, that they 
 should be condemned to the degradation of a 
 coarse farmer's sack, fit only to hold the com- 
 mon pobidiim, or food, for the body that pe- 
 risheth. 
 
 The chapel now presented a strange scene — 
 strewn with articles of every kind, and packages 
 of every size and form, half of which, it was 
 plain, could not be carried away. Meanwhile 
 the servants, soldiers, and jieasants, who were 
 employed in arranging them, were helping 
 themselves to a multitude of loose articles, with 
 which they were in vain cautioned not to load 
 tliemselves ; and they who had to carry the 
 whole baggage of the convent through the 
 enemy's lines, were already so encumbered on
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 215 
 
 their own account, as hardly to be able to 
 move. 
 
 Tile iokliers were drawn up on one side of 
 tlie aisle, leanin*^ on their arms ; the peasants, 
 each niun armed with a pike, n)aintained also 
 some degree of order, which shewed they were 
 not unused to military movements; the priests 
 and servants of the convent w ere, some engaged 
 in the business of packing, and some employed 
 in praver ; while O' Neil's cavalry were ranged 
 between two confession boxes, under the little 
 gallery of the convent, and the pawing and im- 
 patience of the liorses gave a singular finish to 
 the picture. 
 
 M"'I)ernu)t was one of the last who entered 
 the chapel, with an air of quiet composure, 
 having no other luggage than a small bundle 
 tied in a handkerchief. He was accompanieil 
 by the two ladies, his sister and Miss Hagnal, 
 who ap})eared to have profited by his tran(|uil- 
 lity. The handkerchief, he said, contained all 
 he would encumber himself with, except his 
 Bible and his \'irgil ; and he airried these, one 
 in each pocket. 
 
 O'Neil had but time to say a word to Miss 
 Bagnal, to recjuest that she would be of g(HHl 
 cheer, as he would answer for her safety, and
 
 216 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 however else he might seem to be employed, he 
 would not lose sight of her for an instant. 8he 
 entreated, that as the safety of every one de- 
 pended upon him, he would rather attend to the 
 general cause. Father M*Dermot had been 
 kind and attentive to her, and she would remain 
 with him. O'Neil desired her to do so; but 
 that he must also attend to his partieular charge 
 as well as to the general interest. He then 
 requestetl M'Dermot that he would obey any 
 directions he might give him in the hurry of 
 their escape, even though he should not have 
 time to explain its motive; and M'Dermot 
 promised to observe his instructions. It was 
 evident, however, that though both the ladies 
 preserved a wonderful composure, yet it was 
 maintained with some struggle. M'Dermot's 
 quiet spirit was a rock of refuge for them, and 
 in the storm which was approaching they had 
 taken shelter beneath it, and felt almost as- 
 sured of being safe. Ilis manners were those 
 which would call around him the confidence 
 and regard of women ; they were gentle, and 
 yet lofty, possessing the quietness of assured 
 courage, the ease and grace of good society, antl 
 the attraction of a subdued, but enthusiastic 
 piety. On this occasion it was with some eflbrt
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 21? 
 
 that the monk sulxiucd the soldier. The habits 
 of his early life, when t!ie young and accom- 
 plished M'Dennot had " flamed in the front of 
 battle," were stirring in the bottom of his heart; 
 and when he heard the shout of the collecting 
 multitudes, which now began to resound upon 
 the hills, as they gathered for the relief of the 
 convent, he would gladly have given way for 
 awhile to the emotions of the pugnacious animal; 
 hut the strictness of his religious feelinnrs, and 
 his engagement to the ladies, forbade this. 
 
 The wild yells of the mountaineers were 
 answered by shouts from the soldiers without 
 the walls, who, now menaced with an attack, 
 hastened to fire the pile they had prepared 
 around the monastery. The first smoke from 
 this pile was to be the signal to the peasants to 
 attack the besiegers. 
 
 TliL* smoke soon rose magnificently, and 
 curled in great volumes, streaked with fire, 
 round the walls of the convent, occasionally 
 involving the interior in total darkness, and 
 sometimes shedding a horrid and uncertain light, 
 as the flame crossed the windows for an instant 
 and disappeared. This was followed by a great 
 noise of the waters of the lake, as if these also 
 were moved by the connnotion ujK)n their 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 shores. It was the sound of the jieasants, as 
 they rushed in niultifudcs from the hills and 
 j)recipitatcd themselves into tlie lake, to make 
 their promised attack upon the English. 
 
 The noise of these movements out of doors 
 produced a perfect stillness inside ; no one 
 moved, hardly breathed. It was as if some 
 potent spell had fixed them in the spot and atti- 
 tude in which they were at the instant of its 
 working; or like the inhabitants of Hercu- 
 laneum, when the lava of the burning mountain 
 fixed them for ages in the postures of the 
 moment. 
 
 ITiis continued a few minutes ; and the spell was 
 broken by the prior moving slowly towards the 
 altar. He knelt on the step before it ; and tiie 
 crowd in tlie chapel, of all descriptions, knelt 
 around him. There was a solemn silence ; which 
 was at length broken by the voice of the })rior in 
 tones unusual for him, low, tlistinct, and power- 
 fully pathetic, as he lifted up his soul in prayer 
 to the Father of creation, and besought him for 
 the little persecuted group shut up within these 
 burning walls. The conduct of the prior, 
 throughout the day, had been active and intel- 
 ligent, and at the same time kind and indulgent 
 to all about him. Thougii not considered a
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 219 
 
 pious man, lie was generally beloved by his 
 convent ; and when now lie appeared touched 
 with a deeper spirit of devotion than was usual 
 with him : and when it was seen that the big 
 tears were Howing copiously down those cheeks 
 to which they were so strange, the effect was 
 deep and profound upon his auditors. 
 
 He had supported himself nobly tliroughout 
 the day, nor seemed to think of himself; nor 
 consider, that he was about to be driven out in 
 his old age, from the scene of his duties and the 
 happy abode of his past years ; that he was 
 soon to be a houseless wanderer, while those 
 who loved and obeyed him, should be scattered 
 on the face of the world, never, perhaps, to meet 
 together again. But these thoughts came now 
 rushing upon his mind, and his heart was dis- 
 solved with sorrow. 
 
 The monastery, which had been involved in 
 almost total darkness by the smoke of the pile, 
 was now suddenly and gloriously illuminated by 
 the universal bursting forth of the flame from 
 
 o 
 
 the dark sheath that enclosed it, like the sword 
 of Achilles from its scabbard, flash in^r destruc- 
 tion. The prior rose, as if he had waited this 
 signal. All rose with him and listened. In an 
 instant the tumult outside increased a thousand 
 L 2
 
 '2*20 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 degrees ; the noise of n great multitude, in 
 deadly conflict, raged round the walls, and the 
 sountl of musketry, volley succeetling volley, 
 penled through the silence of the night, and was 
 echoed and re-echoed, in long succession, by 
 the surroumling mountains ; and the cry of the 
 combatants came back in dismal wailings from 
 the distant hills. 
 
 The moment was now come for making their 
 great altemj)!. ^\'llile the enemy were hotly 
 engaged, forty men were let down from the 
 great window of the chapel over the altar. 
 These drove oft' the English that were near, and 
 removing that burning wood from the gate, 
 O'Neil's gallow-glasses sallied forth, followed by 
 his mounted men at arms ; and by the whole 
 fraternity and imnates of the convent. With 
 these went the boats, born on the shoulders of a 
 number of the least warlike of the inhabitants 
 of the monastery. The whole party reached 
 the shore in safety, where the boats were 
 launched, and the bearers and their com})anions 
 embarked, and in a icw minutes they found 
 themselves in safety on the hill side. Here, 
 having ascended a little, they halted, and looked 
 back on the scene they had left. 
 
 The tumult of battle roared loudly from the
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 2*21 
 
 island, hut it seemed as if the Saxons were 
 gatherin<r round the convent, prohahlv informed 
 of the esca{>e of tlie monks. Presently a man 
 was seen on the sunniiit of the hill at a little 
 distance from the refugees, waving a blazing 
 brand as a signal for the skirmishers to return. 
 The signal was speedily obeyed, and the splash 
 of the water, along the shore of the island, told 
 that the warlike peoijants were again leaping 
 into the flood. 
 
 It was a calm night ; and as the mountaineers 
 regained their hills, the tumult died away : and 
 the English, tired, as it seemed, of the busy 
 skirmish tliey had been engaged in, no longer 
 shouted or hurrayed. After a while there was 
 a perfect silence, and the attention was fixed 
 by the awful appearance of the monastery. 
 The whole building was wrapped in flame. 
 The dark waters of the lake reflected the «rlow- 
 ing colours of the sublinier element, and the 
 surrounding hills and woods shone with its 
 brilliancy. 
 
 The English soldiers wire now distinctly seen 
 
 seated on the grass, gazing in silence on the 
 
 destruction they had made, and admiring the 
 
 splendour with which ruin so frequently C(»vers 
 
 L 3
 
 222 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 his working. The peasants also were seen 
 seated upon the suiTouiuling hills, looking 
 mournfully upon the sad spectacle before them. 
 The red deer, attracted by the blaze, and re- 
 gardless of the danger, stood in crowds upon 
 tlie shores of the lake, and tossed their large 
 antlers with delight and amazement. There 
 was profound quiet, interrupted only at intervals 
 by the loud crackling of the burning timber, 
 and the fall, from time to time, of fragments of 
 tlie walls. The light breeze, which had prevailed 
 hi the commencement of the evening, had died 
 away, and Irish and English were all engaged 
 with the spectacle before them, when the sound 
 of music stole over the scene. It could not be, 
 it was some delusion, some strange effect of the 
 over burdened fancy, and the crowded events 
 of the night; — but, hark, — there again; — these 
 strains are real ; — what can it be ? 
 
 " It is our organ," said the prior, " and it is 
 poor Connellan that plays it; he will at length 
 die martyr to music. Poor Connellan was for- 
 got. How could I have l)een so unmindful of 
 one who never thought of himself? They 
 thought him a fool, but he had more sense and 
 feeling than he got credit for. He wtis careless 
 of ever^' thing, and hardly conscious of any
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 225 
 
 existence than that of sweet sounds. And yet 
 he liad a heart to synipatliize with the needy 
 and the afflicted. Poor Connellan ! — hsten 
 again." 
 
 It was that subUme psahn which was played, 
 " I know that my Redeemer liveth ;" and as 
 the sounds came upon tlie motionless air, the 
 ladies dissolved into tears, and every heart was 
 moved. " Connellan," said M'Dermot, " is 
 not a fool ; but his amazing absence of mind and 
 simplicity of heart has procured for him that 
 reputation amongst the wise ones of this world. 
 A little selfishness and craft, if that gentle bo- 
 som could have admitted them, would have 
 earned for him another character, hut he must 
 not be left to perish. Come, Donough," said 
 he to a stout man near him, " you and I must 
 try what can be done for him." 
 
 As he said this, he rose from his seat on the 
 grass, and tlie whole party asked eagerly w))at 
 he proposed to do. 
 
 " I do not know," said M*l)ermot ; " we 
 must act according to circumstances: but surely 
 we will not sulfer poor Connellan to peri^^h bv 
 this death." 
 
 " You cannot assist him, nor save him," said 
 M'Egan; "his fate, poor fellow, will Ix* decided 
 t 4
 
 224 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 before you reach the island, and your enter- 
 prise would but needlessly expose you to fall 
 into the liands of the enemy, to whom you are 
 particularly obnoxious." 
 
 " God will Ik- with us," said M'Dermot ; 
 " shall we set bounds to his mercy?" 
 
 M*Egan was about to ap|)eal to his sister, 
 but looking at her, he saw her eye fixed, and 
 her features wearing an expression of desperate 
 resolution, which made him hesitate. — And 
 M'Dermot was already gone, accompanied by 
 Donough and two other men, who readily 
 obeyed his summons. Swift as lightning they 
 had loosed a boat from its fastening, and were 
 already upon the water ; — and now they were 
 at the island, — they had landed, — and the 
 first object which met them on the beach was 
 Connellan himself. 
 
 Connellan stood before them, his hair burnt, 
 his face and eyebrows scorched, and his clothes 
 black and smoking. When he saw M'Dermot, 
 he raised hisfinger to his closed lips, — " Dumb," 
 said he, " dumb for ever ; it will speak no 
 more of sin or sullering, of joy or sorrow : — 
 the Saxon has shut the mouth of music. I saw 
 it in flames, M'Dermot, I did not leave it wliile 
 yet it had the power of utterance. Poor thing,
 
 THE ADVENTrRERS. 22.5 
 
 — the Saxon has no soul for liarmony ; tliou<r|j 
 its last melody seemed to touch tiie hearts oi" 
 the roufj^h soldiers, and they suffered me to 
 pass. I did not expect it. l^ut what matter 
 what becomes of me now ? has not my organ 
 breathed its last sigh ? I shall be so solitary !'' 
 
 Connellan would have spoken more, for 
 though usually silent, the loss of his organ was 
 an event that stirred all his fliculties within him, 
 and gave him an unwonted utterance. But 
 the boatmen pressed his innnediate departure, 
 and as he still lingered, M'Dermot lifted the 
 passive musician in his arms, and placing him 
 in the boat, they soon joined their party on the 
 hill. 
 
 Coimellan was received with great joy, pai- 
 licularly by the ladies, who felt the deepest 
 interest in his fate, and in that of his adven- 
 turous deliverer. The lost organ still employed 
 his mind, and he continued to speiik on tht 
 subject with a fluency which amazed M'Kgan, 
 and even suq)rised ^I'Dermot, who, undc-r- 
 ^itandine: more of the nature of Connellan's 
 mind, had a nmch higher opinion of his ca- 
 pacity. He told the story of" his performance 
 for the last time upon his beloved instrument, 
 while surrounded bv smoke and fire, witii a
 
 SS6 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 passioiiutc eloquence, which never for an instant 
 turned upon itself to notice the heroism of its 
 own attachment. 
 
 The fire had nearly done its work ; the black- 
 ened and scorched walls of the monastery 
 began to ap}x\ar, as the flames sank around 
 them, and the brilliancy of the picture faded 
 on every side. Some faint streaks of the morn- 
 ing light were now discernible in the east, and 
 showed the weary Saxon soldiers sleeping on 
 the scorched grass amidst the havoc they had 
 made. O'Neil roused his })arty, and gave 
 directions to p?*epare for moving. It was still 
 his purpose to seek Bagnal's castle on Lough 
 Erne, and conmiit his sister into his hands 
 there ; for he did not desire to have it known 
 that he was concerned in the defence of Innis- 
 dune. The route of the fathers of the monastery 
 lav in the same direction ; their purpose being 
 to seek shelter in a remote convent in the 
 mountains, whose poverty and difiiculty of access 
 gave some hope of safety. 
 
 Horses had been procured duiing the night, 
 and their preparations were soon made. As 
 they took their way by a narrow mountahi road 
 which wound between two liills, the whole paity. 
 as if animated by a connnon feeling, stopped
 
 THE ADVENTUREns. 227 
 
 to look back tor the hist time upon t!ie scene 
 they were about to (juit for ever. Two short 
 days l)erore, O'Neil and Miss lia<rnal hin\ 
 stopped upon the opposite hill side, to «xu/a.' 
 upon die same scene, to admire the tnuujuil 
 lake, the (juiet sunny island, the elephant and 
 peiicet'ul church reposing in its little nook ot 
 sohtude; surrounded by its great oaks and 
 elms, which, like the ancient servants: of the 
 liouse, bore witness to its long and happy reposr. 
 — Now all was changed. The chujch was a 
 mass of black and crumbling ruins : the «ln>> 
 were gone, oi- lay prostrate and scorched u))on 
 the soil which they had so lately sheltered antl 
 adorned. 
 
 L
 
 228 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 CHAPTER Xli. 
 
 1 liVAU jouriuy lay tln()iiu;ij a hare ami iiiouu- 
 tainous district, diversified occasionally by some 
 channiug little rallies where the great oaks had 
 maile their nests ; and man as much in need of 
 shelter as the vegetable tribe, found protection 
 also in some of these clefts of the hills. Hut 
 for the most j)art, this district was a perfect 
 solitude. 
 
 The ruggedness and loneliness of the counti-}', 
 and the events of the last two days, had lowered 
 the spirits of Miss Hagnal. She thought of 
 her peaceful home at Bagnal's Close ; of the 
 rich and beautiful country around it ; of her 
 mother's fondness — and then of the dangers she 
 hail lately run, and oi' the horrors that were acted 
 before her eyes. She thought again and again 
 what could be the condition of that country, 
 where the hiirhest authorities of the state are 
 themselves the perpetrators of the most heinous 
 enormities. O'Neil sought to dissipate the 
 dejection which had seized upon her mind :
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 229 
 
 and he was not unsuccesst'ul in giviii*^ lier mu- 
 sings another channel. 
 
 ►She had seen him since her arrival in Irehnul 
 in a n«rht somewhat different from that in >\hicli 
 she had before viewed him. Considerin^r liini 
 as a mere Irishman, when at Ba^nal's Ch)se, slie 
 ihouiifht liim more honoured by lier l)rotlier*s 
 friendship than conferrin<r liunour. Hut on her 
 arrival in Dubhn, when she observed that the 
 lady Kildare, who looked u))on the Lord Deputy 
 and thehigliesl British ollicers as inferior persons, 
 whom she would hardly condescend to notice, 
 treated O'Neil as of a rank ecjual, if not superior, 
 to her own, and more as a sovereign prince than 
 as a mere noble ; she learned from this ladv, to 
 regard the attentions she received from him as 
 possessing another sort of value than wliat she 
 attached to them before. Tiiis, perluips, addeti 
 somewhat to the interest of that intercourse 
 which circumstances had estiiblished between 
 them. She had marked his conduct throuirh- 
 out the affair of Innisdune ; and she had admired 
 the })rudence, free from all rashness, and the 
 steady and irantjuil intrepidity, which distin- 
 guished him. Miss liagnal was not a person 
 to admire a connnon-place hero, or to value 
 very liighly so ordinary a thing as mere personal
 
 230 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 courage ; but she could estimate the mind that, 
 quiet and calm in the midst of hustle and dan- 
 ger, could exhil)it the rarest talents as the most 
 ordinary (|ualities. Her companion rose in her 
 estimation, in the course of all these occurrences ; 
 at the same time that the peril and singuliu*ity 
 of them threw her more and more under his 
 care and protection, and drew their intimacy 
 closer. 
 
 The delicacy and reserve which 0*Neil had 
 ever used towards her, had added to the mvsterv 
 which their intercourse derived, from the cir- 
 cumstance of his being a married man, and yet 
 unmarried, for she had learned from himself 
 that he was })arted from his wife. 
 
 O'Ncil souijht to restore the tone of Miss 
 Ragnal's mind, by directing her attention to 
 tliree personages of their party, who, he said, 
 were not to be matched in the world. These 
 were the keeper of the records, and the keeper 
 of the relics of Innisdune, and the organist of 
 tlie convent. They were all three enthusiasts ; 
 and like persons of that class, they associated 
 little together, but, next to no association at all, 
 they preferred the society of ordinary people of 
 the world, who were no way affected with the 
 flisease of a determinate turn to any particular
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 231 
 
 tiling. They hud all suftered irreparable losses 
 in the sack of the convent. The organist hail 
 at length relapsed into silence, after having 
 tired himself with lamentations and dissertations 
 upon the perfections of his defunct instrument, 
 which was a present to the convent of Innis- 
 dune from Saint Otho, bishop of Bruges; and 
 one of the best evet* manufactured upon the Con- 
 tinent. The good natured Prior was trying to 
 console })oor Father ]\I'Miracle, for the loss 
 of a great portion of his invaluable relics. The 
 Prior indee<l regretted the loss himself, for he 
 was fond of the good things of the world, and 
 not over scrupulous how they were procured : 
 and beinjr also, occasionallv, a soldier and a 
 politician, money was indispensable to him. 
 The miracles performed by the bones of Co- 
 lumbkil, had frequently filled the exhausted 
 cellar of the convent with good wine ; and the 
 nails of St. James the Apostle, which, when 
 applied with proper faith and devotion, cured 
 all lameness, contributed materially to keep 
 the prior's com|)any of foot in marching order. 
 
 These bones and nails were almost as valu- 
 able to the convent tis the lamp of the Arabian 
 magician to its possessor ; but the safety of his 
 own bones compelled the prior to sacrifice those
 
 232 THi: ADVENTURERS. 
 
 of the saints. lie look carr lo liave tlirec ol' 
 the lar^a>t and heavit-st packages thrown into 
 tlie lake, as they were in the act of being put on 
 board llieboat, wliich tliey would int'alhbly have 
 sunk, on its hazardous voyage from the island 
 to the opposite shore. This was done while tlie 
 keeper of these trea^iures was hustled out of the 
 way, Ml the crowd and confusion of the enil)ark- 
 ation. Nothing could exceed the agony of the 
 poor man at this direful mischance. The prior 
 endeavoured to console him, by reminding him 
 of the su})erior value of what he still possessed, 
 and assuring him, that on the first returning 
 moment of trancjuillity he would have these trea- 
 sures fished up from the bottom of the lake ; 
 where, in the mean time, they would remain in 
 perfect safety. Father M*Miracle shook his 
 liead doubtingly and sorrowfully. 
 
 " MV'll, if we should even fail in that," said 
 the prior, *' it will be easy, by pro})er consecra- 
 tion, to give lo bones of a similar si/e and 
 description all the virtue and })owerof the origi- 
 nals." The poor friar looked up at his supe- 
 rior, on this announcement, with some astonish- 
 ment of countenance. 
 
 " You doubt this, too," said the prior. 
 »' Where is vour faith, ISMNIiracle ? There is
 
 (( 
 (( 
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. ^33 
 
 M'FoIio there, who coukl prove it to you from 
 the decretals, three bulls, uiul five briefs, of 
 Pope Urban the First ; and the profouiid C\)ni- 
 mentaries upon these, in fourteen volumes folio, 
 by the learned and blessed Father Spiderwebbus. 
 It is, moreover, a tradition in the church, which 
 none but a heretic would (jucstion. Is it not 
 easy to divine power to conununicale to one 
 bone the virtue of anotlier ?" 
 
 Undoubtedly," said the relic-keeper. — 
 Heaven forbid that I should prcsum})tuously 
 set limits to the power of God. But if this can 
 be done, }t seems that the extraordinary care 
 bestowed by the Church on the real and un- 
 doubted relics, must be very needless." 
 
 " Not at all. For if the relics l)e lost by 
 negligence and want of care, and not by misfor- 
 tune, their virtues can by no means Ix* trans- 
 ferred to substituted articles, except in some rare 
 cases only, which atv explained in the Com- 
 mentaries." 
 
 With this explanation the disconsolate keeper 
 of the relics appeared satisfucl ; and indeed he 
 was lost in ama/.ement at the learning displayed 
 by the prior; whose habits, he thought, luul 
 preclude<l him from ac(|uiring Mich ))rofound 
 erudition.
 
 234 THK ADVENTURERS. 
 
 M*Derinot, uliu had been silently travelling 
 hy liis sister's side, had heard some part of this 
 conversation between the prior and M*Miracle, 
 and had backed his horse into the rear of the 
 group, as if to avoid hearin<^ the discussion. 
 
 M*Dermot was a relijrious man, and he 
 shrunk from all jesting upon sacred subjects. 
 He knew that the prior was but anmsing him- 
 self at poor M'Miracle's expense, whose weak- 
 ness should have been, he thought, his protec- 
 tion. He respected the prior for numerous good 
 qualities, and he knew he was the last man that 
 would act the part of hypocrite or deceiver upon 
 religious subjects, or any other ; but he could 
 fall in with the humour of the times, or of the 
 people; and he thought it allowable, after the 
 exam})le of the heroes and legislators of old, to 
 turn the absurd notions that prevailed to somt 
 useful account. 
 
 M*Dermot\s connection with the world had 
 been broken by the calamities of his early life. 
 These had disengaged every tendril of his heart 
 from the earth he trod upon, and taught them 
 to climb towards a higher sphere. His widowed 
 sister alone bound him to the world. He could 
 not, therefore, stoop to the compliances which 
 ap|)ear so inmKent to tliose whose hearts are in
 
 THE ADVENTUIIERS. 2S5 
 
 the scene before them. Tlie prior hiul never 
 been rehgious. He liiul entered tlie church, 
 because his family possessed jiatronage ami 
 power to secure his advancement. But he was 
 a mere man of the world ; and viewing him as 
 such, was far from being a bad man. Though 
 not religious, he was not a despiser of religion ; 
 and he pitied the weakness of M'Miracle, while 
 he amused himself with it. 
 
 It was now drawing towards evening, and 
 the wanderers were looking out for some resting- 
 place for the night, when tliey were fortunate 
 enough to discover an extensive building, or^ 
 large low cottage, surrounded by a square of 
 offices, all thatched and rudely constructed, but 
 well preserved. This farm-house, for such it 
 was, lay upon the side of the hill, at some dis- 
 tance from the road, with which it connnuni- 
 catcd by a long winding lane or avenue, plantt-d 
 on both sides. The prior proposed to halt, and 
 seek shelter in this habitation, and the projwsal 
 was warmly seconded by the whole party. They 
 accordingly turned off the road, and after a 
 somewhat rugged and steep ascent, found them- 
 selves in a spacious bawn^ as the square inclo- 
 sure in front of an Irish farmer's house is called. 
 This was spread with clean straw, on wliich
 
 236 Tin: adventurers. 
 
 cattle of all kincls were reposing themselves, 
 while five or six young girls were milking so 
 inanv cows, and a matron-looking woman, of 
 rather a youtht'ul appearance, and handsome 
 countenance, was superintending the process. 
 
 Tile strangers were invited in, with a ready 
 and cheerful courtesy, by the lady of the 
 mansion ; who, without question or inquiry, 
 proceeded to make preparations for the evening 
 repast. It was an apartment of great size, 
 answering the jnnpose of parlour, kitchen, and 
 hall, but kept with great neatness, and abun- 
 dantly provided with the plainest and most sub- 
 stantial furniture. An immense dresser occupied 
 one side of this commodious apartment, loaded 
 with pewter, earthen, and wooden vessels. 
 Another side was supplied with an oak table, 
 running its whole length ; and a third was fdled 
 with a settle, which appears to have been the 
 original (though Cowper does not mention it) 
 of the all-accom})lished sofa. There was also a 
 plentiful number of chairs, and stools of various 
 kinds, scattered through the apartment, and a 
 few small tiibles. With all the homeliness and 
 common purpose of this apartment, it had some 
 pretensions to taste. There were rases, as we 
 would now call them, filled with flowers, and
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 237 
 
 some antique earthen vessels of great beauty, 
 and in an an«rle of llie apartment stood a Cupid 
 of white marble, upon a pedestal, which ap- 
 |>eared, to the pnutised eye of O'Xeil, to be of 
 great merit, and of Roman or Grecian work- 
 manship. 
 
 A great fire of turf and bog timber blazed on 
 the ample heartli, and the great table we have 
 mentioned was ornamented with an interminable 
 range of large wooden vessels foaming with milk. 
 It was, altogether, a comfortable resting-place 
 which the travellers had found. The comely 
 liousewife, who spoke only the language of her 
 country, said thatM'Denzel had not yet returned 
 from the farm, but that she expected him every 
 moment to su})per, and that he would be most 
 happy to contribute to the comfort and ac- 
 commodation of his guests. In the mean time, 
 she proceeded, assisted by her young women, 
 in preparing this social repast; and a table was 
 soon spread, covered with a white and spotless 
 cloth of home manufacture. Another table was 
 prepared, at the lov.er end of the apartment, for 
 the sohliers and servants of the party; and the 
 two groups had taken their proper stations, 
 when M'Den/el arrived. 
 
 M*Denzel was a man of towering stature, and
 
 238 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 of apparently gigantic strength; but his counte- 
 nance was mild, and l)()ri: traces of great l)ene- 
 volencc and good humour. I le might be a few 
 vears older than his wiic, though he looked 
 \ ounuer, and had the hue of healtli and exeix:ise. 
 I lo %\clcomed his numerous guests with cor- 
 diality, and the kind salutations of his country, 
 and assured them that he would have no 
 dirticulty in acconnnodating them all, thougii 
 coarsely, as long as it might suit them to make 
 his humble cottage their residence. 
 
 M'Denzel's su})per, to the great gratification 
 of the (now) hungry prior, was infinitely better 
 than what he luul anticipated. It consisted of 
 excellent cold meat and fowl, hot cakes and 
 coffee, some light French wine, and a bottle or 
 two of old hock. O'Neil was as much surprised 
 with the conversation of his host, as the prior 
 was with his good cheer. He was perfectly 
 acquainted with the state of the country far 
 beyond the circle of his farm house, and with 
 the events of his own time both in England and 
 on the Continent, and spoke of them as matters 
 familiar to his contemplation. 
 
 He soon perceived his guest's astonishment, 
 and told the story of his life and adventures in 
 a few words. He was a collateral branch of a
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 239 
 
 noble or chieftain faiiiilvi and had obtainetl a 
 frrant of an extensive tract of land from his 
 kinsman, Thv M*I)enzel, \n1io was now no 
 more. 
 
 '* Some years ago," said the farmer, " when 
 the En<rlisji of the pale made a great effort to 
 extend their limits, my cousin fell in battle, and 
 all his possessions were confiscated, and granted 
 by die crown to an English lord, tlien holding 
 a high place in Ireland. His lordship, when 
 lie visited his newly-acquired property, found 
 me living as I am now, and did not disturb me ; 
 on the contrar}', lie granted me a lease for ever 
 of the same tract I held before, at a nominal 
 lent. 
 
 " He s|:)ent some days at this cottage in perfect 
 security, after having dismissed his attendants, 
 and I found him a generous and sensible man. 
 I Ic was one of the few who disapproved of the 
 system by which he had profit«.'d. Neither was 
 he at all concerned in procuring the confisca- 
 tion? which had taken place ; and this ac(juisi- 
 tion having unexpectedly fallen into his hands, 
 he thought himself bound in duty to promote, 
 by every means in his power, the happiness of 
 his new tenantry. Having confirmed to me 
 my grant, he next proposeil to make me his
 
 2i0 THK ADVENTURERS. 
 
 agent uver llic whole esiate. This was a ta&k 
 I was unwiHing to undertake, but he convinced 
 nie that it was a duty which I owed to the poor 
 people of my t)wii sept, and from wliieh I ought 
 not to shrink. 1 became his agent ; and it is 
 but justice to Lord Eaglewing to say, that he 
 holds his lands ratlier as a steward for the be- 
 nefit of his tenantry, than for his own profit. 
 And yet he receives more out of his estate than 
 any English peer in Ireland, I have reason to 
 think. 
 
 " I use my influence as chieftain, to which, by 
 the death of my cousin, I have succeeded, to 
 preserve peace, and promote the interest of the 
 present proprietor. He obtains, through me, 
 those profits from his lands which all the power 
 of the English government could not give him. 
 And on the other iiand, his name and powerful 
 interest preserve this spot from the inroads of 
 the marauding English, who ravage all the 
 surrounding country in their excursions. ^Ve 
 are a supj)ort and help to each other, in the 
 present unhappy state of the kingdom." 
 
 "This arrangement," said O'Neil, "is a very 
 trood one tor I^ord Eaglewing, and not a bad 
 one, perhaps, for the tenantry. But how can 
 vou, M 'Den/el, submit to become the tenant
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 2il 
 
 uf an Englishman, and forget iho dignity ot 
 your name and race ?" 
 
 " That (juestion has been often asked me ; 
 but I have shaken hands with ambition long 
 since, and we have parted." 
 
 " Perhaps you were right, but it is a rare 
 instance of philosophy, if I ought to give it that 
 name." 
 
 ** Say rather immility, or, perhaps more 
 properly, indolence or oddity ; whatever it was, 
 I had ceased to have a wish in the world for 
 any thing beyond peace, and the slielter of an 
 humble cottage like this." 
 
 " And yet M*Denzel," said the prior, " you 
 iiave surrounded yourself, notwithstanding all 
 vour humility, with a number of pretty things, 
 to say notliing of a very pretty wife; and if you 
 >up in this style every night, and sleep as com- 
 fortably I suppose, I don't see that your cottage 
 may not be as good as the best castle or con- 
 vent in the country." 
 
 " I have, I confess, some pretty things here, 
 to say nothing," said he, smiling, *' of my wife, 
 as you put her out of the case. Some of the 
 rarest of my ornaments, and you will see more 
 of them to-morrow, if you favour ine with your 
 company, were the ornaments of my \kx)v cou- 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 sin's castle. For some few others 1 am indebted 
 to Lord Eaglewing, as well as for all my little 
 stock of wines ; the rest, my wife and my farm 
 provide me with." 
 
 While this conversation occupied the upper 
 table, the lower was not less busily engaged 
 with its own topics. Tlie young female servants 
 of M^Denzel's cottage formed an acceptable 
 addition to the happy group of soldiers and 
 domestics who had escaped from the monastery ; 
 those listenctl with breathless wonder to the 
 awful story of its destruction. The wonders of 
 valour performed by O'Neil in leading the re- 
 treat, the religio-military feats of the good prior, 
 the generous devotion of M*Dermot in rescuing 
 the heroic organist, and above all, the story of 
 the musical festival, or oratorio, ])erfonned by 
 angels during the burning of the convent. For 
 it was insisted, that Connellan was attended by 
 a full choir of angels during the execution of 
 his last pieces on the organ, and that these took 
 part in the performance ; and though they might 
 have been invisible to the musician himself, 
 tliey were plainly seen by numbers on tlie hill, 
 who could swear to the fact. 
 
 It was this heavenly aid which gave such 
 tone to tlie music as earthly concert never
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 243 
 
 boasted Ixiforc, and swelled its notes with sounds 
 of ravishment audible for miles around. It 
 was this which preserved the holy musician 
 from the fire, and made, as it were, a circle of 
 security around him in the blaze. These angelic 
 musicians were seen in crowds in the music 
 gallery, and upon the walls of the convent, 
 conspicuous in their white robes and faces, 
 which outshone the morning stars in lustre, and 
 made the fires of the monastery look dim. They 
 went with the organist, when he had finished, 
 throutrh the blazinfj edifice, and conducted him 
 in safety through the ranks of the enemy to where 
 M'Dermot met him. Nor did the enraged 
 Saxons dare to touch him. Their strokes were 
 thrown back upon themselves, and they only 
 wounded one another. 
 
 This story, which was first recounted in the 
 cottage of M'Denzel, is still received with im- 
 plicit faith in the valley of Innisdune. And I 
 would advise the curious traveller, or foiaisf, 
 who may visit this sweet spot, if he should be 
 inclinetl to cross the lake, and look at the ruins 
 of this famous monastery, still extant upon the 
 island, not to exhibit any symptoms of an incre- 
 dulous philosophy, as his guide descants upon 
 the awful catastrophe of tlie convent, and tells 
 MS
 
 214- TIIK Al)VKNTLi{lJ{N. 
 
 of tin* aii'^cls wliich were seen nittiii;^ about in 
 the flames, ami pcrr()niiin<r on the holy organ 
 of Saint Otho of Hrugcs, the last liarnionious 
 requiem of the house of God. 
 
 Tiiere had been a pause in the debate in "the 
 upper house," to listen to this marvellous story, 
 and Coimellan rose with great warmth, to rebuke 
 the inventor of such a tale ; but he was himself 
 rebuked by the ])rior, who requested he would 
 make no such vain attempt, as he would be sure 
 to make no impression upon their faithful 
 friends at the other table. The conversation 
 was therefore renewed, by O' Neil's enquiring of 
 M*Denzel, Iiow the people of his tribe con- 
 ducted themselves towards him on his change 
 of circumstances ? 
 
 '' I retain over them," said he, " all the 
 authority of my birth, and use it only for their 
 advantage. I take nothing from them, but live 
 upon the proiluce of my own ground : nor tlo I 
 permit them to live upon me. We have, in 
 fact, got rid, upon this estate, of the old Irish 
 fashion of living upon one another: the chief 
 preying upon his vassals, and the vassals, in 
 return, (U'eying upon the chief. In general, I 
 think, according to our Irish habits, the latter
 
 TIIR ADVCN'TURERS. 245 
 
 has tlie worst of it, tliough both are usually 
 pretty well ruined." 
 
 '* So they are," said the prior ; " and I have 
 no doubt you have obtained a great increase of 
 comfort by the changes you have introduced, if 
 you could but forget your rank." 
 
 " My rank, good prior, never troubles nie. 
 I prefer this lonely cottage, and the quiet it 
 affords, to the profusion and penury of the 
 great hall of the castle. Of what value to my 
 poor cousin were his ample domains, when the 
 turbulent anil idle multitude that surrounded 
 him lived upon him, and thought they had a 
 right to l\o so : — of what use was his absolute 
 power, when he dare not deviate from those per- 
 nicious customs which time had established. 
 An Irish lord holds his power and possessions 
 only in trust, to maintain the vices of his fol- 
 lowers. I am sole and absolute possessor of 
 this humble domain, and my cattle and crops 
 are all my own." 
 
 " And if wc may judge by the specimen wc 
 have benefited by," said M*Dermot, *' your 
 absolute title to your bread, milk, and butter, 
 and the other good things of the cottage, doe^ 
 not exclude the stranger's claim." 
 
 " God forbid !" said M»Denzel. "The claim 
 M 3
 
 'i46 THE Ai)VENTiin:ns. 
 
 of tlie stranger is sacred in the house of an 
 Irislnnan, and the needy and wretched of every 
 class have the same title. My objection is only 
 to the number of idle and vicious retainers who 
 prey, as of right, upon the mistaken hospitality 
 of an Irish chief, and banish peace and almost 
 virtue from his dwelling, and convert the seem- 
 ing despot into a slave." 
 
 « I envy you, M^Denzel," said O'Neil, "both 
 the correctness of your principles, and your 
 unambitious mind. Ambition is, after all, a 
 little thing, to which your understanding is su- 
 perior — would it were so with me," 
 
 " But," said the prior, " admitting that you 
 have rightly characterised M^Denzel's mind, 
 what would become of our country, if all were, 
 like him, to abandon the helm, and suffer her 
 to drift as she may ? The struggle which we 
 hardly now maintain with the Saxon would be 
 at once at an end, and we should be compelled 
 to renounce our holy religion, and surrender 
 our possessions at the presumptuous dicta of the 
 foreigner." 
 
 " I fear," said M'Denzel, " there is little 
 chance that our distracted country can resist the 
 compact and united government of Britain. 
 Why should we contuiue a hopeless contest,
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 247 
 
 which involves us all in blood and ruin? Sup- 
 pose we were to succeed, as I think we should, 
 if united under one chief of sulFicieiit ability, in 
 driving out tlie government of the Pale, how 
 should we settle the claims of our own leatling 
 men ? Would we not find amongst them 
 another M'Murchard, whose revenge and dis- 
 appointed ambition would again call in the 
 stranger ?" 
 
 " And if we were to» take your counsel, 
 M'Denzel," said the prior, rising indignantly, 
 " and submit to our hard fate — what then ? 
 Have those whose allegiance was untarnished 
 found safety in their faithfulness ? Have they 
 not been goaded, and driven, into resistance ? 
 And if insult and injury could not effect 
 this purpose, lias not the Saxon set up scan- 
 dalous tribunals, and called upon the ancient 
 nobility of the land to shew title to the estates 
 of their ancestors ? — Title ! good heavens ! — 
 And why? — Only to afford a shameless pre- 
 text for a determined spoUation. — - Yes, perhajis 
 a few of us may get by favour from the stranger 
 a charter of our o>\ti estates, — but do these 
 charters suffice ? — By and by it is discovered 
 that the charter is uifornial, and that the pos- 
 session of twenty centuries is no legal title. 
 M 1-
 
 24-8 THE .M)\ I \ I ruF.ns. 
 
 These arc tlic blessings obtained by submission 
 to the <rovernment of the Pale." 
 
 " I will not argue with you, prior, upon this 
 view of the case. It is too true. Alas ! that I 
 could think you had found the remedy."
 
 THE ADvnN'TinEns. 2i9 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 JJuRiNfr this debate, Miss Bagnal had heeii 
 holding a long conversation with the lady of the 
 house, in which Mrs. M'Mahon had acted as 
 interpreter, and she was delighted with the 
 almost infantine simplicity of her mind. Ont 
 leading idea occupied her whole soul, gave 
 impulse to her actions, and tone to her feelings, 
 and constituted her entire happiness — her 
 husband. 
 
 " You must, I think, be a hapjn' man," said 
 she to M'Djnzel, " if happiness be to confer 
 happiness, as I think it is." 
 
 " Yes, I am haj)py ; but not so happy as my 
 wife, perhaps." 
 
 " Why so?" 
 
 " Because I do not love so much." 
 
 ''Oh, fie! Mr. M'Denzel." 
 
 "Nay, young lady, I love my wife; but 
 it would be dilficult, perhaps, to love as she 
 M 5
 
 250 THE ADVENTUREnS. 
 
 docs. I was, as I have told you, tlmt unani- 
 bitioiis kind of person, that I luid not even the 
 wibh to be a husband. My wife was the daugh- 
 ter of an humble farmer, and in a rank of life 
 so much below me, according to the ordinary 
 notions of society, that even if I were disposed 
 to matrimony, I should never have thought of 
 her. But I used her father's house as an occa- 
 sional place of residence in the mountains, and 
 Mai-y was my attendant there. After a long 
 time, I could not mistake the sentiment she 
 entertained towards me. I married her, because 
 I was grateful for an attachment which, 
 though the advantages were all on my side, I 
 knew to be as pure as the source of the Ariga- 
 deen. She would have bestowed an empire on 
 me, had she possessed it ; and I felt bound to 
 make the same return to her incfFoctual genero- 
 sity, as if the will could command the deed. I 
 was not in love when I married, but I think I 
 am pretty far gone now." 
 
 " You are an extraordinary man, Mr. 
 M'Denzel. It is consoling to think that you 
 have been so rewarded for conduct so singularly 
 noble : — gratitude, I believe, seldom goes w ith- 
 out its reward : — yours reaped the precious 
 harvest of love."
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 251 
 
 " It did : — but I must not take all die credit 
 you are disposed to give me. I married from 
 motives of gratitude, it is true ; but they were 
 not my sole motives, I am bound to confess." 
 
 " What were your other motives ?" 
 
 " "Why, I believe, habit was the chief. I 
 had become accustomeil to the assiduities and 
 attendance of the enamoured Mary : she had 
 made herself necessary to me: and though I 
 should have been (juite content if I could have 
 liad them on the old terms, it was a serious thing 
 to lose them entirely. After I discovered the 
 state of die poor girl's heart, our old intercourse 
 could hardly have been continued without dan- 
 ger to both of us. There was nothing for it 
 but to part or wed. I chose the latter. Now, 
 you see, I am not so sublime a hero as you 
 took me to be." 
 
 " I see only what I had often occasion to 
 remark, that our purest motives arc mLxed. 
 They arc like Uiose substances which are 
 called elements, or simple substances, only 
 because we are ignorant of their component 
 parts." 
 
 " It is true," said M*Dermot, " diat our best 
 motives are often compound, but they are not 
 M G
 
 2.'52 THE ADVENTUREnS. 
 
 tliereforc to hv considered impure. Tliey arc 
 rather like the metals than the elements, which 
 are made more solid and useful by a small {por- 
 tion of alloy." 
 
 " I had that idea in my mind," said Miss 
 Dagnal, '* but could not illustrate it so well ; 
 and though I feel the force of the observation, I 
 have, I confess, a strong partiality for the pure 
 gold, though it may be wholly unfit for snuff- 
 boxes and candelabras." 
 
 " That," said O'Neil, " is a lady-like opi- 
 nion : but if the perfect purity Miss Bagnal 
 contends for should diminish the value and dura- 
 bility of the article, I am sure she will think it 
 would be piHThased too dearly. Gold in a state 
 of perfect purity, has no tenacity or strength to 
 endure the wear of time and accident ; and per- 
 haps, if our actions be founded upon motives 
 too refined, they will not bear the rude corro- 
 sion of the world. When mixed with the 
 alloy of prudential considerations, they wear 
 better." 
 
 The extensive cottage of the practical philo- 
 so]iher of " Clonor," aflbrded the rtfugees of 
 the convent every accommodation they could 
 desire, and they remained a few days in this
 
 THE ADVEN'Tl'UERS. 253 
 
 quiet retreat. M^Denzel's grounds were well 
 enclosed, and stocked with catllc, for there was 
 little land at that tinic in Ireland unilcr the 
 plough : the population was not suflicient lor 
 the cultivation of much corn, and the insecurity 
 was too great : the cattle of a district could l)e 
 driven into the castle daiifi, or into tho fastnesses 
 of the mountains, ujion tho approach of danger, 
 but the wheaten field remained at the mercy of 
 the enemy. 
 
 The cottage of Clonor, though standing 
 upon an elevation with regard to the road, 
 was situate nearly in the centre of a plain, or 
 hollow, in the midst of the mountains, which 
 were wooded nearly to the to})s. M'Denzel had 
 cleared the plain of timber, leaving only some 
 scattered clum})s of the finest trees. The con- 
 trast which the cottage and improvements pre- 
 sented to the rugged country around him, 
 resembled somewhat tliat which his jile and 
 habits exhibited, when compareil with the stau 
 of society and nuuniers prevailing in the vicinity. 
 
 The few days of (juiet spent at Clonor were 
 necessary to the health of Mrs. M*Mahon, which 
 was very delicate. Miss Hagnal was of a more 
 robust constitution, but even to her it was use-
 
 254 THK ADVEKTrilERS. 
 
 ful. llie terror of the scene at Iiinisdune had 
 sunk into her heart, and made a deep ini|)res.sion. 
 Nor was this impression softened when she 
 learned from the Hps of O'Ncil, that the leader 
 of that ferocious attack was her own brotlier. 
 O'Neil excused liimself for not sooner acquaint- 
 ing her with tiiis material particuhir, by stating 
 the difTiculty in which the sudden ajipearance 
 of Bagnal before Innisdune as an enemy placed 
 him ; and considering the prejudices he had 
 imbibed, the awkwardness which would have 
 attended a meeting between brotlier and sister 
 at that place. 
 
 ^liss Bagnal was satisfied with O'Neil's ex- 
 planation, at the same time that she felt how 
 much the occurrence added to tlie embarrass- 
 ments which seemed to have gatheretl round 
 her since her arrival in Ireland. She wished, 
 and yet dreaded, to be with her brother, who 
 appeared to be no longer the same man. She 
 wished she were |xirted from O'Neil, and yet, 
 now that she had no kind brother such as she 
 had expected to find, it was like jiarting from 
 her last and only friend. O'Neil and she were 
 almost upon the familiar and delightful footing 
 of brother and sister. He was the companion 
 of her travels, and a few days travelling is known
 
 THE ADVENTUREn«. Qo5 
 
 to create a greater intimacy than mont^is ot 
 ordinary intercourse. Her journey was like a 
 pleasant dream, disturbed, indeed, by frightful 
 passages, but again changing to scenes of re- 
 freshing and delicious tran(|uillity, and slie 
 fearetl to awake from lier slumber. 
 
 The sojourn at Clonor was also convenient 
 and pleasant to O'Neil. This was, in many 
 ways, the crisis of his fate. He was deeply 
 engaged in political movements which were at 
 hand, and he found great relief and refreshment 
 from the labours of business, in the society ot 
 his fair companion. 
 
 They had not been many days at Clonor, 
 when they were involved in another mihtary 
 adventure. The inhabitants of the cottage were 
 wakened at the dawn of day by the sound of 
 trumjiets and the noise of cavalry in the bawn. 
 A horseman stood at the cottage door parleying 
 with a servant, and requesting admittance in 
 gentle terms. M'Denzcl >vas soon up, and de- 
 sired the door to l)e openetl. The troop were 
 Irish, and bore the ensign of *' De Burgo." 
 Tliey were armed, and appointed in the best 
 and most s})lendid style, and the connnander 
 made his compliments to M'Dcnzel in the loft-
 
 256 Tiir ADVENrrur.ns. 
 
 iest strain of politeness, of uliich l'^lizal)cth's 
 court finiiishcd any precedent. 
 
 It appeared, tliat not far from the cottage he 
 had cncoiiiilt red the Lord Marshal, and in a 
 smart action had defealeil and scattered his 
 whole force. Two days before, he liad left De 
 linrgo's castle in search of this officer, who 
 iiad, in his march from Lough Erne, committed 
 various depredations upon the vassals of De 
 Burgo, and had met him that morning on his 
 return from Innisdune, and succeeded in put- 
 ting him to the lout. lie h;id learned that the 
 Marshal luul been in search of the fugitives from 
 Innisdune, and was acquainted with their place 
 of refuge ; and he had therefore brought \u> 
 victorious troop to offer lo the reverend prior 
 and his party the benefit of his escort and pro- 
 tection to L'lick's Tower, where, he assured 
 him, he would be in })erfect safety until he 
 found a rel\i«nj more to his mind. Though this 
 intimation of an escort to L'lick's Tower was 
 conveyed in the politest and most courteous 
 terms, yet the })rior understood the offer as 
 l)eing one of those, which, like a royal invita- 
 tion, must not be decluied. But he was not 
 indisj)osed to visit the seat of the noble De
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 257 
 
 Burgo, and O'Xeil thou<;lit it, on several ac- 
 counts, most prudent to accompany liim. 
 
 Ulick's Tower, though not directly in the 
 road to Lough Erne, was not considerably out 
 of the line, and 0*Neil considered that it would 
 probably be the safer route even for Miss 
 J^agnal. The destination of the party was, 
 therefore, again slightly changed, and they set 
 out anew, and with a more numerous escort, 
 upon their altered route. All took cordial 
 leave of their host and amiable hostess, parti- 
 cularly the English lad}', who had been much 
 interested in M'Denzel's fortunes and philo- 
 sophy. She thought with astonishment of the 
 scenes which had succeeded each other so ra- 
 pidly since her arrival in Ireland, as if the 
 present variety of her fortune were intended to 
 balance the long stagnation of her life. Everv 
 thing was changed to her, and she considered 
 herself also as a changed person, and perhaps 
 an improved one. Her mind was now daily 
 in a state of activity, which it had never before 
 experienced, and this new mental impulse 
 brightened her faculties, and communicated an 
 animation of speech, person, and feature that 
 made her unlike her former self. The con- 
 sciousness of her new perceptions was a source
 
 258 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 of happiness and delight such as she had never 
 known. The scenes in which slic was now en- 
 gagetl were, no (h)iil)t, wild and dangerous, and 
 she would have felt the full influence of tlieir ter- 
 ror, if her confidence in O'Neil had not quieted 
 every apprehension. It seemed as if she had 
 acquired a taste for this new and vagrant mode 
 of life, the wild variety of which was full of some 
 secret charm, while to her it was free from every 
 danger. Upon every thing which occurred, 
 O'Neil was her commentator. He was cer- 
 tainly an eloquent one, and fully informed, and 
 she thought, quite uni:)rejudiced. To him she 
 referretl her doubts and difficulties, and she 
 considered his solutions invariably satisfactory. 
 
 She was somewhat startled now at the plan 
 of going to De Burgo's casde, instead of her 
 brother's head-(juarters. But she acquiesced, 
 when informed that Ulick's Tower lay but little 
 out of the direct road, and would serve as a 
 convenient resting-place, and compensate for the 
 circuity. 81ie was unconscious that there was 
 any gentle compulsion in the case. 
 
 Colonel Filbert, who commanded De Burgo's 
 horse, was an Englishman, luul a soldier of 
 fortune. He had in, his youth, (for he was not
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 259 
 
 a young man) served in the wars of the Con- 
 tinent, and was not a little vain of his soldier- 
 ship, and of that mannerism, which was then, as 
 it has been since, considered a great accomplish- 
 ment, and which his sojourn upon die Continent 
 enabled liim to acquire. But the colonel fell 
 into the common error of overrating his acc|uire- 
 ments. As a soldier, he was a mere Martinet, 
 and considered that the whole science of war 
 consisted in the rules of discipline, and the 
 exercise of tlie parade. As a gentleman, his 
 chief pretensions rested upon a certain set of 
 phrases and mode of speech, set off by a precise 
 and regulated action, in the knowledge of which, 
 and the skill to use them, lay, in his opinion, the 
 whole mystery of gentility. 
 
 He was, however, active, intelligent, and 
 faithful, and, as he understood the word, a man 
 of strict honour. He had (juitted the service of 
 the emperor for some slight which he tliought 
 had been put upon his invaluable achievements, 
 not in accordance widi the routine of the ser- 
 vice. Restored to his native country, he found, 
 that like Tully, the fame of his exploits abroad 
 had not engaged the attention of the busy and 
 headless public at home. He sought employ-
 
 260 Tin ADVENTURERS. 
 
 ment; and uiili long and painful perseverance, 
 enduavourcil to attract the notice of tlie power- 
 ful to his merits. But the powerful were too 
 much en^a^od in the contemplation of their 
 own, antl tlic valiant Filbert continued in ob- 
 scurit}. At length his finances and his patience 
 bcinir nearly exhausted, he employed the scanty 
 remnant of his })urse in the forlorn hope of an 
 adventure to Ireland, then the great mart for the 
 needy and the desperate. 
 
 Here again he was met by the genius of 
 disappointment. All his applications to the 
 Lord Deputy, backed though they were with 
 ample details of his ability and experience, and 
 strengthened by certificates from various per- 
 sons of eminence, remained unattended to ; and 
 he was nearly in despair, and altogether in a 
 rage, when accident introduced him to De 
 Burgo. 
 
 It was then the habit of the great Irish 
 chieftains, both of British and Irish descent, to 
 employ foreign officers in their little armies. 
 Nor was it deemed a dishonourable service. 
 It was sometimes the road to higher appoint- 
 ments in the king's army, and, in the mean- 
 time, was often a very comfortable situation, 
 where the chief hajipened to keep other gooil
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 2G1 
 
 things in his castle beside soldiers, which was, 
 fortunately tor Filbert, the case with De Bnrgo. 
 
 Tlie colonel was exceedingly polite to the 
 whole party under his protection, particularly to 
 the ladies, whose accommodation he studied 
 above all things. His discourses upon the state 
 of affairs in Ireland, though they did not show 
 the profound politician, evinced considerable 
 sagacity and shrewdness. But nothing remark- 
 able occurred to disturb their journey to the 
 Shannon ; which river they crossed by a wooden 
 bridge of rude construction, and apparently very 
 ancient date. 
 
 They now penetrated into a country wearing 
 a different aspect from any they had yet tra- 
 versed — there were few high mountains to give 
 it grandeur or sublimity. It was a sort of plain, 
 broken by a multitude of little, bare, rocky hills, 
 which seemed half buried in the ground, and 
 only putting forth their head> in a struggle for 
 resurrection. This idea of buried mountains 
 was supported by further ajipearances. There 
 were great rents and chasms in the surface of 
 the earth, spreading, at times, into yawninij 
 caverns, whence issued noises of wind and 
 water in commotion, and all the indications of a 
 subterranean world. This whole district was
 
 262 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 abuiulantly supplied with btrcainb and rivers, 
 some of whicli, after accompanying the travel- 
 lers n considerable way, sank suddenly into the 
 earth and disappeared, as if to suj^ply the 
 nether region with its portion of this precious 
 element. 
 
 It was a country of romance — a land of ma- 
 gic — as if nature had here chosen to be con- 
 cealed, and had put on a mask with which to 
 mock the lords that assume dominion over her ; 
 showing but an exterior semblance of her real 
 features. 
 
 It was noon when the travellers ascended the 
 side of an eminence of no great elevation, which 
 led them to a level or considerable piece of 
 tabic land, equally elevated on all sides from the 
 surrounding country. On one extremity of 
 this remarkable })lain stood Ulick's Tower. It 
 was a low, but apparently very extensive build- 
 ing. A small square tower at one angle showed 
 a flag bearing the red lion of De Burgo. Their 
 approach was announced by a shot from the 
 centinel on the wall, which was answered by a 
 flourish of trumpets from the advancing cavalry, 
 and in the next minute the drawbridge was 
 flung down, and the great gate thrown open, 
 and the whole party entered a spacious court-
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 263 
 
 yard surrouiuled by extensive buildings of mas- 
 sive strengtli, tlie principal range of which also 
 displayed sonic elegance of architecture. One 
 angle was occupied by the tower we have men- 
 tioned. From this tower the castle took its 
 name; having been the first building erected 
 in Ireland by Ulick, the great ancestor of the De 
 Burgos. The spacious castle of the present 
 lord was built by his father Hugh De Burgo, 
 and was thought to be one of die most con- 
 siderable in Ireland, as well for strength and 
 extent as elegance. 
 
 The cavalry retired now to their quarters on 
 the left side of the square, passing as they went 
 in review before Colonel Filbert. The guests 
 from the monastery were conducted into the 
 great hall of the castle, where they were re- 
 ceived by a crowd of servants in rich liveries, 
 and conducted to the several apartments pro- 
 vided for them. They were at the same time 
 given to understand, that the Lord De Burgo 
 would be in the " blue chamber," (a blue 
 chamber being indispensable in an ancient cas- 
 tle) sometime before dinner, and would expt^t 
 the pleasure of meeting his guests. Refresh- 
 ments were served in the mean time with an 
 attention to comfort, and with a display of sump-
 
 •ifji Tiin ADVKNTunEns. 
 
 tiious i'lo«^aiice, wliitli bespoke llie wealtli and 
 attentive hospitality of the entertainer. 
 
 At the appointed time, the great bell of the 
 castle announced that De Burgo had taken his 
 way to the *' Blue Chamber," and O'Xeil pro- 
 ceeded to look for the lord of the mansion in 
 ills place of state. The bhie chamber was an 
 aparlment of considerable ii/e, hung with blue 
 and silver tapestry, exhibiting the ex})loits of 
 the renowned Uhck De Burgo, and all his 
 valiant deeds, in harmless threads of silver : 
 the chamber was furnished with solid oak 
 materials. De Burm) advanced to meet O'Neil, 
 and received him with great cordiality and dis- 
 tinction. He said he had often desired to be 
 M) honoured as he was now, and could hardly 
 regret the occurrence which had caused him to 
 send out his detachment, and the awkward 
 accident which had befallen it of encountering 
 the queen's olHcer, since it had procured him 
 that introduction which lie had so long and 
 vainly sought for. 
 
 This was answered with corresponding po- 
 liteness by O'Neil; and then the lords, after 
 the fashion of all ages, talked for awhile '»r 
 matters which neither cared about. 
 
 De Burgo was a man a liulc below the
 
 THE ADVENTUUERS. 265 
 
 middle stature, inclinini^ to corpulence, acid 
 rather in the wane of life. But tlie activity of 
 his uiovenients, and the ruddy tint upon his 
 cheek, denoted heahh and a sound constitution. 
 His eye was quick and brilliant, and his coun- 
 tenance, which was very pleasing, gave the full 
 iui})ression of thoughtfulness and intelligence. 
 
 It was said of De Burgo, that he was the 
 warmest of friends and the bitterest of enemies; 
 and that he fully exemplified the adage applied 
 so frequently to the Anglo-Irish, and which 
 charged them with being " Ipsis Hibernis 
 Iliberniores/' The passion of pride and sen- 
 sibility to injury are not perhaps lessened by 
 advancing years. It was observed, that the 
 grey hairs which curled about the temples of 
 De Burgo were not less powerfully or frequently 
 tremulous with passion, than when they boasted 
 another hue. 
 
 I)c Burgo's dress was both Irish and English, 
 but chiefly the former. He wore over his 
 Kuglish doublet the saffron scarf, and green 
 velvet bonnet and plumes of the Irish chief; 
 the latter adorned with diamonds. 
 
 The hulies were now introduced by colonel 
 Filbert, and were received with more of the 
 warm cordiality of the Irish chieftain's castle, 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 Tier ADVENTURERS. 
 
 than the stately politeness of Elizabeth's court. 
 Yet Adolphiis (le liur<^() was not ignorant ol 
 the manners of courts. lie was well accjuaintecl 
 with those of Elizabeth's ; and had been more 
 than once on the Continent, liut he was aware, 
 that this so much admired* mannerism was as 
 distasteful to the Irish, as it was unsuited to his 
 own character. He was content that Colonel 
 Filbert should display all the elegance and 
 finesse of this artificial politeness ; while he ap- 
 peared to despise it, and to accomodate himself 
 to the more popular manners of his country. 
 
 De Burgo was a widower. He had been 
 married to an Irishwoman of the family cf 
 De Lacy, to whom he had been attached from 
 his youth, but family feuds had long opposed 
 and prevented their union. At length these 
 gave way before the unconquerable affection of 
 the lovers ; and when De Burgo was no longer 
 young, he led his Matilda to the altar. Their 
 married life was as hai)py as their affection had 
 been constant and sincere ; and ten years of 
 cloudless felicity (a long period in human life) 
 was granted him. His wife died in giving 
 birth to his sixth child; and for three years the 
 rich and powerful chieflain was overwhelmed
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 267 
 
 with woo. During this period he never quitted 
 bis castle. 
 
 At lengtli a neighbouring Lord foraged 
 his lands, with such circumstances of cruelty 
 towards his people, luid contempt for himself, 
 iis completely roused him from his lethargy of 
 grief. He collected his vassals, marched to 
 attack the insolent enemy, and the triumph of 
 victory and revenge restored him to the world : 
 but he was no longer the same man. 
 
 He had been the gentlest of mortals, with the 
 kindest of hearts, w hiJe yet hope and love nursed 
 his early years ; and when manhood came, and 
 with it fortune, power and gratified affection 
 joined to shed their influence upon his destiny, 
 the splendour and the happiness of his lot was 
 reflected with full power upon his vassals imd 
 dependants. The kind, the good, the beloved, 
 were the epithets with which his name was ever 
 associated in the expressive language of his 
 country. 
 
 But he was now grown haughty, reserved, 
 and vengeful. He was occupied solely in main- 
 taining his dignity by force of arms, against the 
 encroachments of his neighbours, or the more 
 injurious insolence of the English government 
 of the Pale. In his household, however, it w as 
 N 2
 
 268 THK ADVENTl HLRS. 
 
 tli()iijj;lit that ji fair daughter, his cUlcst child, 
 ami the ima<^eof her mother, would yet succeed 
 ill u inning him hack to liaj)piness and his former 
 self. She was now about fifteen years old, and 
 every day he spent more and more of his tim^* 
 with her, and took more pleasure in superin- 
 tending her education ; while his affections 
 seemed hourly to acquire their tone of lost tie- 
 light, and to gather round this gentle and amiable 
 child — collecting a new existence, as the bee 
 sips the honey from the spring flower. 
 
 As yet this magic effect continued only while 
 she was present. \Mien he was called away 
 from this darling of his advancing years, the 
 jjloom which her brifjlit countenance had dissi- 
 pated gathered again upon his heart, and the 
 pride of the De Burgo settled once more upon 
 his lip. He had less delight in his eldest son. 
 The milcbiess of character which, in the daugh- 
 ter, was a source of excjuisite pleasure, appeared 
 tameness in the boy. The father had not tlu 
 skill to know, that in the calm and contcmjila- 
 tive character of youth, the most precious (]ua- 
 lities lie hid, until time and events product 
 them to the day. 
 
 De Burgo now led his company, consisting 
 of a*very mixed and miscellaneous assemblage.
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 269 
 
 (some of whom we shall have occasion to notice 
 presently,) to the dining chamber. Dinner was 
 servetl with all the splendour of chiefry and chi- 
 valry. The sidelH)aril exhibited an amay.ing 
 display of massive silver and gold plate. Chan- 
 deliers of everj' size and form were hung from 
 the ceiling, and glittered in every part of the 
 room, sup}iorted by the paws, or susjiendeci 
 from the mouth, of the lion of De Burgo. 
 
 N 3
 
 270 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 As the master of the feast sat down to table, 
 he requested M'Derniot to say grace, ])assing 
 over the higher rank of the venerable prior, 
 whom he justly considered as rather a military 
 or political character, than a divine, antl omit- 
 ting also the pretensions of his Protestant chap- 
 lain, the venerable rector of Knuckamauleen. 
 This respectable personage was sent over to Ire- 
 land by the sagacious ministers of the pious 
 EUzabeth to instruct the people of Ireland, and 
 particularly of the parish of Knuckamauleen, in 
 the genuine doctrines of the gospel and tlie 
 Protestant religion. It fortimately happened 
 that the reverend Doctor Wagstaff was a person 
 not to he offended by such slights as this, which 
 De Burgo now put upon him. 
 
 He was the son of a confidential servant of a 
 minister of state; and when it was determined 
 that the blessings of the happy reformation 
 bhould be extended to Ireland, he was speedily
 
 THE ADVENTIJRERS. 271 
 
 ordjilneil, ajid manufactured into a clergj'man 
 of the establishment, that he miglit liave a share 
 in the glorious work. The Reverend Dowlas 
 Wagstiiiy had a long time j)reviously taken his 
 degree at college, and provided himself with a 
 wife ; a proof then deemed quite necessary, as 
 it would seem to be even at this dav, that there 
 was no taint of popery in the immaculate person 
 of the reverend Dowlas. 
 
 Though a little out of order, we may state in 
 this place the substance of De Rurgo's account 
 of his exemplary chaplain, as he related it after 
 dinner to O'Neil and Miss Ragnal, whose curio- 
 sity respecting him had been somewhat excited. 
 On the appointment of this learned divine to the 
 living of Knuckamauleen, vacant by — act of 
 parliament — he proceeded, as he was directed 
 to do by the minister of state aforesaid, to the 
 Lord Deputy's residence at Dublin, to whom he 
 delivered a letter from the said minister of state, 
 which letter fully succeeded in convincing the 
 Lord Deputy of the extraordinary merit of the 
 Reverend Dowlas. He was accordinj'lv treated 
 * widi much courtesy by the drjutty ministers of 
 state in Dublin, and was furnished with two well- 
 ap|X)inted troops of dragoons, and a letter from 
 the Chief Governor himself to his good friend 
 N 4
 
 272 HJK ADVENTURERS. 
 
 ihc Lunl Dc Bur«ro, iXHiuestin^^ tliat he would 
 funiish the gospel-minister with wh.it t'urtlRr 
 military force may be necessary, in order to 
 induct him to the livin<r of Knuckamauleen, and 
 j)ut him in full possession of the rurr of wub in 
 his parish, and that he would do him all other 
 courtesies in his power. 
 
 Furnished with this letter, and with the dra- 
 goons, which it was said, could then he badly 
 spared from the pubhc service, the reverend 
 Doctor WagstafF set out for his pastoral charge, 
 having first deposited the gentle Martha, his 
 wife, in DubUn; until, as he said, things should 
 be comfortably settled at Knuckamauleen. He 
 directed his course, in the first place, as advised 
 by the captain connnanding the cavalry, to 
 Ulick's Tower, to take the opinion of the Lord 
 De Burgo upon the best mode of proceeding. 
 
 This advice of the captain's was not quite to 
 the taste of the doctor, who was somewhat im- 
 patient to behold the promised land of Knucka- 
 mauleen, but he yielded to the opinion of his 
 military leader; who, he was rather surprised lo 
 find, did not view him with all the reverence he 
 expected, notwidistanding that he had taken 
 care to acquaint him of his intimacy with the 
 British minister of state, and the favour he en-
 
 THi: ADVENTURERS. 273 
 
 joyed with the Lord Deputy, and all tin- other 
 deputies at Dublin CastlL*. The captain was, 
 in truth, a stiiT-necked man, and perha})s had 
 no great reverence for the reformed clmrcli, as 
 then establijshed in Ireland, or for the mode of 
 its establishment : however it was, Doctor Wag- 
 stafF was obliged to accompany him to I'lick'^ 
 Tower. 
 
 The doctor was received very graciously by 
 De Burgo, who was then on good terms with 
 Her Majesty's government. He assured him 
 that his castle was at his conmiand, as long as 
 he might think proper to honour him Avith his 
 company ; but that he must decline to interfere 
 in any way in the ceremony of inducting him to 
 his parish. He however assured him, that he 
 considered the military force under Captain 
 Condor abundantly sufHcient for that })urpose. 
 
 The Reverend Dowlas fortified by this opinion, 
 now insisted that the ca})tain should proceed 
 without further delay to put him in possession 
 of his parish, and the ca})tain no longer hesitated 
 to obey. Caj)tain and Parson therelbre pro- 
 ceeded at the head of the dragoons to the parish 
 church of Knuckamauleen. It was a small, 
 but handsome church erected by Amadeus De 
 Burgo, son to Ulick, the first lord of that name. 
 N 5
 
 274 THK ADVENTURE Its. 
 
 Arrived at the cliurtli, admittance was sought 
 in vain. There was but one solitary cottage in 
 the iH;ighl)ourhood and it was empty. The 
 sokhers did not incjuire furtlier, but forced 
 ojien the gate, ami oli ! the reformation which 
 was speetlily effected ! Silver candlesticks, gold 
 cups, and gold and silver crucifixes, and all the 
 2)y(ci()iis alK)minations of poj)ery ra})idly disap- 
 peared. It is but justice to the Reverend Dow- 
 las to say, that he attempted to prevent this too 
 quick appropriation, whether he thought that 
 the thing was not (juite becoming, or, as his 
 enemies say, that something whisperetl in his 
 ear, that the gentle and orthodox Martha 
 would have no scru})les of conscience against a 
 popish cuji, or candlestick of gold or silver ; but 
 whatever were his motives, his efforts were un- 
 availinfj to save a siuiHe article from the rude 
 grasp of the military. 
 
 The church n(/w rt»sounded wiiii loud and 
 boisterous riot, and the jests and imprecations 
 of the soldiers, as with their sabres they demol- 
 ished pictures, images, altars, every thing. 
 The large window over the great altar, which 
 was of stained glass beautifully })ainted, was 
 dashed to pieces, in scorn and contempt of the 
 profane crosses it exhibited. All this reforma-
 
 THE ADVENTUIIERS. 275 
 
 lion heiiifT at length effected, and the new rec- 
 tor having provided himself with new fastenings 
 for the cliurcli «rate, he thoiitrht it ri«rht, in the 
 next j)lace, to visit the residence of the po})ish 
 Parson of Knuckamauleen, and to extend tlie 
 benefit of the reformation to the parsonage 
 house. His possession of the parish lie con- 
 sidered would be merely nominal, unless the 
 old occupier was expelled, and it might happen 
 moreover that Father O'Fogarty's mansion 
 might be convenient for his parliamentary suc- 
 cessor in the cure of souls. 
 
 Father O'Fogarty, though, as his parishioners 
 ^aid, he loved comfort and good cheer, was yet 
 poj)ular in his parish, and was a good and 
 devout man. His good humour was never 
 failing, and even went the length of a partiality 
 for sports and childish joking ; but he was 
 always ready to share his income with the 
 indigent of his flock, and he was very indul- 
 gent in exacting his dues and in imposing 
 penance; — punishing petty thefts, when the 
 offender was proved to be in want, with only a 
 iientle admonition, and fi«;hts and brawls with 
 no more than a shake of the head, and any 
 want of reverence for holy church, with but a 
 slight journey of forty miles to Lough Darig, 
 N 6
 
 276 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 barefooted. Vor all these substiintial reasons, 
 Father ()'Fo«rarty was well beloved by his flock, 
 and the advance of the niilitiiry to his house 
 excited <rrcat commotion in the little vil- 
 lage of Knuckamauleen, and the surr()undin<r 
 country. 
 
 The parsona<re-house stood at a distance of 
 about two miles from the church, and in a more 
 po])ulous and fertile country ; so that what had 
 passed at the church was as yet hardly known 
 in the nei<rhb()arh()od of the priest's residence. 
 This occuj)ied the farther end of a long range 
 of mud cottages which composed tlie village, 
 and formed right angles with both sides of this 
 Hourishing " Auburn of the plain." It was a 
 large thatched house of two stories, with exten- 
 sive ranges of out-ofhces, and abundantly })ro- 
 \ idril with all accomnuxlation for man and beast. 
 The village turned out its whole population, to 
 stare in amazement at the gay apjiarition of the 
 dragoons, as they disturl)ed the }nofound repose 
 of the dirt and politics of Knuckamauleen. 
 
 As they arrived in front of the priest's house, 
 the dragoons extended their files so as to ef!ect 
 a complete investment. The Reverend Dowlas 
 Wagstaflf', of the reformed church, then de- 
 scended from his horse, and accompanied bv a
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 2it 
 
 few soldiers, who had also dismounted, (the 
 captain would not stir,) proceeded to demand 
 entrance : hut the terrified priest had closed his 
 dooi-, and was busily fortitying his habitation. 
 It was therefore determined to force the door, 
 and the dra^roons did not delay to try their 
 sabres upon its fastenings : but the door of the 
 parsonaije did not yield so easily as that of the 
 church : it was jirobably taken more care of. 
 
 Wliile this })rocess was going on, tlie crowd 
 in the villa<;e had broken into a number of little 
 groujis, debating earnestly what could be the 
 cause of such a proceeding, and what they 
 ought to do in this emergency. The force 
 assailing the priest's house was much too formi- 
 dable to be attacked by the villagers, and there 
 was no time to " collect the country.'' In this diffi- 
 culty, an ancient of the village, a man of no less 
 consecjuence than the taylor of Knuckamauleen, 
 " who had," as he said, " made the first brccch- 
 trcn for every man who heard him, and lor some 
 of their fathers, and w])o remembered w hat w;is 
 done in the old time — lie pledged his ciiaracter 
 that the strangers could intend notliing good 
 towards them, when they Ixigaii their work by 
 an attack upon the priest. " It was their duty to 
 defend their clert^vman, let the cause of attack
 
 2JS THE ADVKNTIHERS. 
 
 be wlial it may; and if llu-y tiand danger in the 
 enterprise, did they not know, if they were hurt, 
 the priest could cure them ? — or prevent them, 
 uideeil, from being hurt at all, as he did when 
 he turned the ball on one side, whicli was going 
 fair for Dermid Cohane's head." 
 
 This eloquent appeal produced a powerful 
 eflect. A great ferment and conunotion took 
 place amongst the crowd ; and, after a while, 
 Dermid Cohane himself, who was a person ot 
 some distinction also, being the smith of the 
 village, undertook to address the multitude. He 
 said, that " as to the priest's turning the ball 
 a-one-side of his head, as the snider told them, 
 he could not say that he did not do it, seeing 
 that the ball actually w ent on one side his head, 
 and not throujrh it. Jkit he would not have 
 tliem rely too much on this power of turn- 
 ing aside balls ; because the dominion which 
 the Saxons had ac(|uired in the country, was 
 some proof that their balls are not often turned 
 aside, which would not be the case if the priests 
 could accomplish it." 
 
 " And as to attacking these horsemen," said 
 Dermid, " 'twas all nonsense. But if his friends 
 and neighbours had a mind to follow the tailor's 
 advice, and try whether the Saxon balls would
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 279 
 
 go, for the priest's hiddiiijr, out of the way of 
 their heads, God forbid that he shouUl dissua^le 
 them from a little fi«;htin^ : he would ^o with 
 them to tlie sport with all liis heart, without 
 thinking about his head one way or the other." 
 The crowd lau<rhed at the good humour of Co- 
 hane, and ap})lau(led him as a hearty fellow ; 
 but his oration had the effect of making; them 
 hesitate for a moment, when shrieks from the 
 female servants and relatives of the priest, and 
 the increasing efforts of the soldiers to force an 
 entrance, again roused their compassion and 
 indignation. At this instant, a party of about 
 a hundred men were seen advancing at full speed 
 towards the village, armed with pikes, and 
 various rural implements. These had been col- 
 lected in the vicinity of the church, and their 
 numbers had increased as they came along. 
 Widi this accession of strength, the villagers 
 hesitiited no longer. 
 
 The foremost of the advanced }iarty was a 
 very young man, a native of the village, and 
 the assembled crowd soon recognised Donald 
 Duff. This young man had witnessed the attack 
 upon the church, and immediately after had 
 collected the present party, determined to follow 
 and observe the progress of the Reformers.
 
 280 Tin: ADVKNTURERS. 
 
 The j)rt'crclii)<r Smulay, Donald Duff had at- 
 tended mass at the churcli, and had there seen a 
 youui^ woman wlio was the beauty of the vilhige, 
 as he was tlie flower of its youth. lie couhl only 
 converse with her with his eyes, for other inter- 
 course was strictly prohil)ited to both. They 
 l»ad l)een playmates from infancy, and had 
 grown up in nnitual afl'ection and admiration. 
 Donald was not only the handsomest youth 
 of the village, but also the bravest and best 
 Cathleen united to sparkling blue eyes, glossy 
 brown hair, and a beautiful face, a heart full of 
 tender and kind affections. Their love was the 
 theme of the village poet, and the subject of 
 the fire-side cronanc ,- but, like the loves of the 
 great ones of the world, it was not happy. 
 Calhleen's parents thought she could make a 
 much richer connexion, if this young man, 
 whose circumstances were notecjual to his merit, 
 were out of the way. 
 
 They accordingly exerted themselves in the 
 most violent manner to break off this unpro- 
 mising intercourse. The vows of the lovers 
 were disregarded, and Cathleen was forbidden 
 to speak to the presumptuous Donald, whose 
 offended j)arents also connnanded that he should 
 give uji all thought of Cathleen and \\q.\' imiud
 
 THL ADVENTURERS. '281 
 
 rainiiy. A long year |)as>^cil away, iliiring Nvliich 
 iliU prohibition was endured with torture. At 
 length, on the Sunday we have spoken of, it 
 was observed that glances full of meaning jiassed 
 l)etween the lovers, but no notice was taken. 
 I'lie attention of the congregation was too 
 strongly engaged by an animated description, 
 by Father OTogarty, of the tortures inflicted 
 ii})on thii /'or fiinatc inmates of Purgatory, and 
 the more refined torments prepared for the lost 
 children of the church. When the eloquent 
 preacher had harrowed up the souls of his con- 
 irreication, and tears were flowinfr, and the sobs 
 of the multitude had almost drowned liis voice, 
 he wound up his pathetic oration with a solenm 
 admonition to observe the fasts and ceremonies 
 of tile church, and the payment of dues, by 
 wliich alone they may hope to escape the ter- 
 rible judgments of God, — a blessing which he 
 wished them all in the name, &c. ^c. 
 
 It is very uncertain what impressions this 
 discourse made on the lovers, but Cathlecn ap- 
 })eared to be deeply affected. She enveloped 
 herself in her large cloak, and bending down 
 on the earth near to a confessional, wiien the 
 congregation rose to depart, she remained after,
 
 282 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 >lill in an ecsUisy of devotion, and under the 
 undiminished influence, as it seemed, of Father 
 O'Fogarty's elocjuence. All wlio passed her 
 respected her profound feelings, and slic soon 
 found herself alone in the church. In a little 
 lime the clerk came, and not observing the 
 younnr woman, closed and fastened the gate. 
 The crowd, after the usual pause devoted to 
 curiosity and gossipping outside the church 
 door, had dispersed to their respective homes. 
 
 Cathleen's father and moUier had gone to 
 visit a relation at some distajice, expecting to 
 find their daughter at home on their return. 
 But. the damsel did not return home speedily, 
 expecting a visit herself, nor was she disap- 
 pointed. When all around was (juiet antl so- 
 litary, Donald Duff' found his way up the church 
 widl, and through the window, to pay that visit. 
 Cathleen was, however, in her father's cottage 
 before lie returnetl, and so far all was well. 
 But before night, scandal told the tale of the 
 visit in the church, and told it in her own style, 
 — full of wonder and insinuation. So hard is 
 it for lovers' interviews to escape the prying eye 
 of envy. The consternation of the whole vil- 
 lage was indescribable; the rage of the parents 
 knew no bounds.
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 283 
 
 In this cxtrcinity all parties uppealed to the 
 priest, who heard the story with uplifted hands 
 and eyes, and exclamations upon the degeneracy 
 of the ai^e. At length he surprised the jiarents 
 upon both sides, by rebuking tlieni sharply, tor 
 dwelling entirely upon their own grievances, 
 and not considering that in this case it was 
 God and holy church that were offended, and 
 who must be appeased. lie ordered the cul- 
 prits to be brought before hiu), and proceeded 
 to examine them upon the subject, and finally 
 sentenced them both to do penance, — Cathleen 
 in a white sheet, for three Sundays, and Donald 
 by long and severe pilgrimages to the shrines 
 of innumerable saints. When this awful sen- 
 tence was pronounced, there was a murmur 
 amongst the crowd. Pity stole into their hearts, 
 as they gazed upon the pale and woe-stricken 
 countenance of the beautiful Cathleen. Even 
 the obdurate parents were moved. At this 
 instant Donald threw himself on hi^ knees 
 before the reverend judge, not to implori' mercy 
 for himself, but for the fair Cathleen. He 
 begged that he might be permitted to satisfy 
 the whole penalty. The crime was his, his 
 alone, so let the punishment be. Let his pil- 
 grimages, or whatever the reverend father
 
 284 TJIE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 pleased, l)e doiibUd, irebletl, lui his lite be spent 
 in pcimnces, but let not Cathleen be exposed or 
 defamed. 
 
 " Youn^ nijiii," said tlie priest solemnly, *' you 
 know not wliat yuii undertake — a litb of pe- 
 nance is a serious thing. Take time to reflect." 
 
 " Oh. no ! — Father, no ! — time is not ne- 
 cessary. Pronounce but my doom — for hea- 
 ven's sake — see, she will faint — Oh! have 
 mercy." 
 
 It was not apprehension for herself, but con- 
 cern for her irenerous lover which now affected 
 tlie fair culprit, and made her gasp for breath. 
 She would have spoken, but utterance died away 
 upon her lips. 
 
 " Kneel down, young woman," said the priest 
 solenmly. *' Donald DuH"," continued the judge, 
 " are you content to do penance for your w hole 
 life ?" 
 
 " I am," said Donald, with a firm voice. 
 
 *' Then kneel down by the side of that young 
 woman." — He knelt. " Know now, rash youth, 
 that the penance I inflict is" — the priest paused, 
 and assuming an awful look — "nay, I will give 
 you another moment — reflect again, young 
 man, while yet there is time — a life of penance 
 is a soleinii tliiiii:: — reflect."
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 285 
 
 "* Priest," said tlie ytnui^ man in a toiu- ot 
 desperate determination, " proceed, and clo 
 not torture me : I cannot change my mintl." 
 
 " Then hear tlie sentence of the cliurch, 
 whicli I, her unworthy minister, pronounce in 
 her name. Tlie penance you are to suffer 
 must endure for your hfe, or the Hfe of this 
 unhappy partner in your guilt : I condemn you 
 to that which is justly deemed to be the severest 
 infliction that can be visited ujion the children 
 of disobedience — marriage" — anil drawing his 
 l>ook (juietly from his pocket, he proceeded to 
 marry the lovers. 
 
 The priest, however, inflicted on Donald the 
 small penance, as he called it, of making the 
 circuit of the parish church all that night on 
 his knees without stopping ; and the following 
 day till noon, walking on his feet, and repeating 
 seventeen paters and aves each round. It was 
 while engaged in the performance of this pen- 
 ance, that the Reverend Dowlas Wagstaff'and 
 his holy allies arrived. Donald contrived to 
 conceal himself in the church, and observed all 
 that passed. When the military departed, his 
 term of penance Ix-iiig now ex])ired, he sought 
 the nearest cottages, and harangued the jieople 
 on the enormities that had been committed.
 
 286 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 Little persuasion was net'dcd to induce them to 
 follow their leader, and arming themselves with 
 pikes, they proceeded in the direction the cavalry 
 had tiiken. As they advanced, the fame of the 
 attack on the church spread, and their numbers 
 soon swelled to the aiuount I have described as 
 enleriniT llie vil]a<^e. 
 
 l^onald soon perceivetl what was going on ; 
 and his indignation against the sacrilegious 
 Saxons was strengthened by his gratitude 
 towards the priest. 'J'he house of his benefactor 
 was attacked, and perhaps his life in peril. The 
 man to whom he owed the hand of his young 
 and lovely wife, was about to be violently ex- 
 pelled from his jiarish. Other argument was 
 not necessary for Donald, and after a short con- 
 ference with the taylor and the smith, the mode 
 of this perilous enterprise was settled. While 
 the taylor was intent u})on his military arrange- 
 ments, his old withered helpmate sought him 
 out, and attacked him with great violence. 
 
 " Poor crazy old fool," said the beldame, 
 addressing her husband, " is it at the age of 
 fourscore that you are going to contend with 
 the Saxon soldiers ? — you who have handled 
 only the needle since you were a garsoon. Is 
 it at this time of day that you are going to
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 287 
 
 desert vour poor old wife, and get your foolisJi 
 head cloven by the Saxon broad-swords? If 
 this crowd of WhAs will attiick tlie foreign sol- 
 diers, let them — you can be no help to them. 
 Let Derm id Cohane there lead them on, or that 
 young gallant Donald Duff, who has so soon 
 forgotten his pretty spouse ; such things are fit 
 for them, but for you — Ohone, Ohpne !" said 
 the old woman, as she sat down on the ground, 
 and sobbed herself to silence. 
 
 Donald's young bride also sought him in the 
 crowd, but did not attempt to dissuade him 
 from the enteqirise. She threw her arms round 
 his neck, and kissed his lips and cheeks re- 
 peatedly, but in silence ; then casting up her 
 eyes to heaven, she returned to her father's 
 cottage. The villagers had respectftilly made 
 way for the young woman when she sought 
 her lover, and j^aused in profound silence while 
 she embraccil him. Donald had not uttered a 
 word. 1 Fe looked after his wife — it was one 
 glance of the soul — and then gave signal for 
 the attack. The whole mass rushed forward. 
 
 The military had observed the movements in 
 the village, and tlu* Reverend Dowlas, in the 
 cruelty and cowardiceof his heart, urged Captain 
 Condor that the mob should be att^icked before
 
 288 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 iIrv hfciime formitlablL-. IJiii Capia'm C'oiulor 
 was of a (lilTcrLMit opinion. '" I K* ilioiJ<^ht," lie 
 said, '* thai he was doing (juilc eiiouj^li, under 
 tlie direction of his reverence, for proniotinf^ the 
 «rh)rv of CiocI aiul the n-fornit'd religion, and 
 that no attack ought to be nuule upon these 
 poor peoi)le if it coukl possibly be avoided." 
 Captain Condor knew of what stufFhis soldiers 
 were composeil, and that an attack once made, 
 nothing could restrain them. As to the crowd 
 in the village, he observed, they were by no 
 means so formidable as the Reverend Dowlas 
 imagined, and they would speedily feel the folly 
 of the proceeding, if they should have the 
 temerity to attack the military. 
 
 He, discontinued, however, his assault upon 
 the parsonage, and closing his files, and fronting 
 to the street, assumed a defensive attitude. As 
 the crowd came thundering down the long street, 
 composing the village, they showed a degree of 
 steadiness and ortler far beyond what he ex- 
 pected. The front ranks were formed with 
 great regularity, and showed a depth of seven 
 pikes of great length. The velocity of the 
 moving mass increased as it rolleil on, and the 
 commanding officer of dragoons, who had hoped 
 to find an opportunity of jiarley or persuasion.
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 289 
 
 HOW almost despaired. I le sent out, however, 
 his ortlerly sergeiint and two men to try what 
 could he done. Hut they were obliged to return 
 at full gallop. 
 
 The troop now opened their fire, and volley 
 after volley swept the village. Every shot told 
 disaiitrously upon the close mass before them. 
 Tliey hesitated ; and a convulsive motion was 
 observed in the crowd ; but it was only for an 
 instant ; and again assuming courage, they 
 rushed to the battle, and closed with the horse- 
 men. 
 
 The parsonage house was situated at the ex- 
 tremity of the village, where it opened into a 
 small square field or common, on the skirts of 
 which were a few scattered cottages only. li' 
 the cavalry had been caught in the gorge of the 
 village, hardly a man would have escaped the 
 pikes of the enraged multitude. As it was, it 
 was for a few minutes a deadly struggle. The 
 fn>t division of the cavalry were broken and 
 dispersed, and the soUliers were dying under 
 the pikes of the fierce villagers, when the second 
 squadron wheeled from the rear of the parsonage, 
 and charged the victorious rustics in flank. 
 The fortune of the combat was changed. The 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 2.00 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 broken dragoons rallied, and attacked in tiieir 
 turn : — there was another, and a fiercer con- 
 Hict, which enjded in tiie final discomfiture of 
 the peasants. They fled in every direction ; a 
 tew only retreated slowly ihrou«^h the village, 
 fighting all the way, and marking every step ot 
 their retreat with the dead body of a companion. 
 About the centre of the village, this little group 
 touiid themselves completely surrounded. They 
 could retreat no further: and, fighting to the 
 last, they were hewn to pieces. There was no 
 longer an enemy to be seen. The great street 
 of the village presented no object, but the 
 mangled bodies of its male inhabitants strewn 
 upon the way, breathless, or breathing out life. 
 In the centre was a heap of corpses, piled one 
 upon the otlier, where the last brave band had 
 stood and met their doom. The dragoons gal- 
 lopped uj) and down the village, bnuulishijig 
 their swords, and heedless oi^ the human figures 
 they trampled on. 
 
 While this fatal transaction was in progress, 
 the priest made an effort to escape from the 
 parsonage ; but he found it impossible to elude 
 the vigilance of the few soldiers thai had been 
 left to guard this point. The Reverend Dowlas 
 had remained with these, as well for the security
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 2J)I 
 
 of his own revereiul person, as to insure the 
 vigihuice of the sokhcrs in <rimrdin<r the Popisli 
 prisoner. But when tlie conflict was for a mo- 
 ment tlouhtfiil, and tlie combat r;i«rc(I too fiercely 
 for the nerves of tlie reverent! warrior, he forgot 
 the abominations of Popery, and the danger of 
 the priest's escape, and all but his own safety; 
 and, with all the humility of a Christian pastor, 
 took refuge in Father O'Fogarty's pig-stye. — 
 Now, however, that victory had descended upon 
 the banner of the Reformation, and that the 
 truth of the thirty-nine articles was firmly esta- 
 blished in the village of Knuckamauleen, this 
 eminent reformer ventured forth from his li)wly 
 concealment, and exhibited himself before the 
 heroic soldiers of the church militant, to their 
 no small amazement and diversion ; for it hap- 
 pened that the Reverend Dowlas's new suit of 
 black clothes, reserved specially for the great 
 occasion of taking possession of his living, was 
 most dismally begrimed with unmentionable 
 matter. His wig, also, which had been con- 
 structed with the utmost care, to express wis- 
 dom, gravity, and orthodoxy, cxliibited certain 
 ornaments and appendages not at all consisting 
 with these (|ualities : nay, even the reverend 
 Dowlas's face confessed the low associations of 
 o 2
 
 29^2 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 iIr- |)i^->tyc. Tliis, however, was but an interlude: 
 the reformation reconiinciicecl wiih ilu- trum- 
 pet calling in the stra«^glers to a renewed attack 
 on the priest's manse. 
 
 The tlt)or, which had before been nearly 
 forced, yielded now without nuich dilTiculty, 
 and the reverend reformer proceeded at the 
 head of his reeking apostles, to give the priestV 
 mairsion the benefit of his first visitation. Every 
 eye in the village was turned, through the holes 
 and slits in the cottage walls, towards the house 
 of the priest ; and it wius observed, that even 
 some of the heads which lay bleeding in the 
 dust, were turned slowly towards this last scene, 
 as if anxious to employ the closing light of life 
 in learning the fate of their pastoi-, and yet fear- 
 ful to give any intimation to the enemy, that 
 there lingered in these mangled bodies one 
 pulse of consciousness which could yet be tram- 
 pled out. 
 
 After an anxious half hour, the centre window 
 of the upper story of the parsonage was forced 
 from its frame, and thrown violently into the 
 little garden in front of the house. In a few 
 minutes more, the priest himself ap})eared at the 
 aperture, seated upon the end of a large piece 
 of timber, or strong plank ; which, after an
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. '^93 
 
 instant's delay, was projecte<l throuph the win- 
 dow a few feet. What could this mean ? — 
 But the explanation came quickly : — the })lank 
 was turned with a violent jerk, and the priest 
 was exhibited to his afl'righted parishioners, sus- 
 pended by the neck from the board on which he 
 had been sitting. 
 
 A low and feai*ful wailing resounded through 
 the village, which was answered by a loud yell 
 from the soldiers. It is but justice to say, that 
 Captain Condor had exerted himself to prevent 
 this death, but he had lost all controul over 
 his men : neither was the Reverend Dowlas 
 otherwise guilty, than in not having opposed 
 it at all. 
 
 This fearful transaction did not prevent the 
 young wife of Donald Duflf from leaving her 
 father's cottage, and venturing boldly into the 
 street, j)eo]ilcd only with the dead, in search of 
 her young husband. She found him lying 
 covered with wounds, where the villagers luul 
 made their last sUmd, the uppermost of a heap 
 of slain. His pike was still in his grasp, and 
 he was yet waiTii, but life had fled. A long 
 and piercing <»hriek aiuiounced that Calhlien 
 had found her husband. It was the cry of 
 o 3
 
 294 Tin: adventurers. 
 
 nature, — lier first and last ; tor Cathleen 
 uttered no sound before — nor after. She 
 threw her arms around the body, and pressed 
 it.s jiale lips with kisses ; — then laying it gently 
 with herself on the ground, and folding it in a 
 closer embrace, and resting the gory head upon 
 her bosom, she seemed to compose herself, as 
 if to sleep. The dragoons, as they afterwards 
 rode tin-ough the village, passed some coarse 
 jests upon the damsel, but they did not molest 
 her. At length, when the soldiers liad with- 
 drawn, and all was (|uiet, and the villagers ven- 
 tured from their houses, they found poor Cath- 
 leen a corpse. 
 
 She and her husband lie buried in the same 
 grave, near that of the priest. Two mounds of 
 verdant turf mark the spots where these victims 
 are interred : the rest of the slain were buried at 
 a considerable distance. Among these was also 
 another female, the old wife of the ancient and 
 hereditary tailor of the village. The tailor and 
 tlie smith were killed near their own doors. 
 The smith might have saved his life, perhaps; 
 but he would not desert the old man, and fell 
 a victim to his generosity. The old woman 
 saw her husband fall ; she was stiuiding in her
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. '295 
 
 own ckx^r, lcK)king out tor him, luul holding' it 
 open to give him rufiige, when lie tell under tlu- 
 ^al)re of a horseman. With a loud and scream- 
 ing voice, her skinny arms extended towards 
 heaven, and her bushy grey hair streaming in the 
 wind, she invoked the judgments of God upon 
 the murderer of a poor crazed old man, who 
 could not harm any creature. The soldier 
 returned her curses, and ordered her to go in ; 
 l)ut she only increased the energy of her male- 
 dictions, which were at length cut short by a 
 pistol-shot from the irritated savage. She fell : 
 then raising herself again on her knees, she 
 nmttered her last imprecations upon the brutal 
 murderer, and died. 
 
 Tlie Reverend Dowlas WagstafFdid not ven- 
 ture to remain at the parsonage, of which he 
 had taken possession ; but accompanied the dra- 
 goons to Ulick's Tower, where he was receivetl 
 by De Burgo, and had since continued to re- 
 side. He had made efforts to collect a congre- 
 gation at the church, but had tailed. Nor was 
 his failure wonderful, even if he hail succeeded 
 to the late rector by a more ordinary antl vulgar 
 process ; for there was not a soul in the parish 
 of Knuckamauleen who understood a word of 
 O 4
 
 '296 TIIK ADVENTinERS. 
 
 the Kiiglish languiigc, except .some tew of the 
 family at Ulick's Tower ; and the lieverend 
 Dowlas did not understaiul a word of Irish. In 
 this dilennna, he comforted himself by taking 
 the tithe, leaving the people to get religious 
 instruction where they could.
 
 IIIK ADVKNTURK.nS. 297 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 1 o return from this long digression, wliich 
 may not, perhaps, have fonnd here its proper 
 place, but may possibly be as good as some of 
 the idle chat at De Burgo's dinner-table, which 
 we shall now notice a Iktle of. Tlie rector of 
 Knuckamauleen took his place with the ease 
 and familiarity of a constiuit guest. He had 
 been now some weeks at the castle, and had 
 failed to recommend himself to the good opinion 
 of his host ; but, fortunately tor his ease and 
 comfort, he had not the sagacity to discern his 
 failure. He was for some time tlu- principal 
 speaker, and descanted largely upon the good 
 fare which had been set before him, without 
 perceiving that tlie subject was no way interest- 
 ing to De Ihngo, whom he sought to delight 
 and compiiiiunt in this Jigreeabh and original 
 manner. 
 
 The prior at length interrupted a dissertation 
 on the best mode of dressing cow-heels, by a^k- 
 o 5
 
 298 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 ing him " Iiow he was paid lii^ lillio in ihi 
 parish of Knuckainauleen ?" 
 
 *' Very badly," said tlic Reverend Dowlas. 
 " There are no military nearer than the head- 
 quarters of the Lord Marshal ; and without sol- 
 diers, we of the reformed church get nothing in 
 this country. 'I'he noble De Burgo does not 
 choose to employ his troo[)s in the service of the 
 Reformation, though I trust he sees the great 
 benefit of restoring the purity of gospel truth." 
 
 " I shall always be glad," said De Burgo, 
 *' to see restored and- preserved the purity of 
 gospel truth ; but I confess it seems to me, 
 tliat this should be done by other instruments 
 than the sabres and fusees of her Majesty's 
 dragoons." 
 
 " If you preach the gospel in this manner," 
 said the })rior, " your Reverence will be fortu- 
 nate if your worthy parishioners do not hang 
 you out of your church window some day, as 
 you did poor O'Fogarty." 
 
 " I assure you," replictl Doctor Wagstaff, 
 ** that I did not hang O'Fogarty. The soldiers 
 hangeil him, poor man, though Captain Con- 
 dor and myself did all in our power to save him. 
 Why should they hang me, who came from my 
 own country to do them good?"
 
 THE ADVENTlIlEnS. 299 
 
 •Say, rather, to do yourself fjCKxl, Doctor," 
 saiil l)c Diirgo; "for how you could do any 
 •rood to these peojile I can't conceive, who 
 know as little of their laiij^uage as you do of 
 the Sancrit. You may do lliein some mischief, 
 indeed, and they accuse you of it vehemently; 
 but I hope they will not hang you." 
 
 The Doctor looked now as if he thought the 
 matter somewhat serious. He shru<?'?e<l liis 
 
 DO 
 
 shoulders, and his plump round visage assumed 
 a cadaverous hue, changing its spherical form 
 for one of greater longitude. 
 
 "What might be the eric of a parson, O'Neil?'' 
 continued De Burgo, addre>^siiig the latter. 
 
 " Not so much, I think, as the eric of a she- 
 riff," replied O'Neil : " Parsons are cheaper 
 gentry, and more numerous." 
 
 The Reverend Dowlas did not relish this 
 discourse ; and secretly resolving to take as 
 good care of his neck as possible, he went back 
 to the more congenial theme of cow-heels, and 
 the best mode of cooking them. It was a dish 
 >r which he was remarkably fond, and which his 
 father (but he did not inform the company of 
 this piece of history,) was famous for dressing, 
 vhen he was cook to the minister of stale, his 
 patron. 
 
 o 6
 
 300 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 ** I do not see, Doctor WagsUiff," said 
 M*Derniot, whose mind had l)een deeply moved 
 by the story of O'Kogarty's murder — '* I do 
 not see how your church will he able to answer 
 to God, or posterity, ibr these acts of wanton 
 power. In my view of the religion of the Re- 
 deemer, violence is not justifiable — either 
 offensive, or perhaps defensive. Me made no 
 resistance himself, when betrayed, scourged, 
 and put to death. If it had been lawful for him 
 to have resisted this injurious violence, it would 
 hardly have been lawful for him to have suffered 
 it. I consider, that under our dispensation, 
 war is scarcely lawful in the most righteous 
 cause ; and surely, violence in the cause of that 
 Redeemer, who himself gave so signal an exam- 
 ple f)f his own doctrine of non-resistance, is a 
 monstrous abomination." 
 
 Doctor Wiigstaff referred to the command 
 given to the Jews, " to slay and destroy their 
 enemies." 
 
 " If we were Jews, Doctor," said M*Dermot, 
 " these would be authorities. But we profess 
 to be Christians ; and our only authority is 
 Christ and his law in the New Testament, by 
 which the OKI is altogether abrogated. If we 
 choose to leave the precepts of the New Testa*
 
 THK ADVENTURERS. 301 
 
 inent, aiul the example of J he Founder ol' our 
 religion, and enUst ourselves under the old dis- 
 |)ensation, believe me the curse of the Jews will 
 be upon us. Your religion will not prosper, 
 Doctor Wagstaff, in this country. Its arm is 
 red witJi the blood of the people, and its scrip 
 will perhaps be, ere long, full of their spoil ; 
 but the curse of the nunclerer and the spoiler 
 will be upon it, and disease and rottenness will 
 consume it in its high places, as Hero<l was 
 consumed u})on his throne. A\'hen hundreds of 
 years sliall have passed away, you will find 
 the people arrayed against your religion as they 
 are now, and perhaps against that government 
 under wliose wing such deetls are per|)etrated." 
 
 " I have heard, Doctor M'Dennot," said \\'ag- 
 staff", " that you are estcenud a prophe^in your 
 own country. I am no believer in modern 
 prophets. But if you have any of the spirit of the 
 prophet-s of old, you must know that the popish 
 church is full of the filth of superstition, and 
 recjuires to be cleansed; you mu^t know, too. 
 that your own church used gruiter violence 
 than we do, when she exterminated the Albi- 
 genses and Waldenses." 
 
 '^ 1 have never made pretensions to the 
 spirit of proj)hecy," said M'Dermot. — " Cuxi
 
 502 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 forbid ; for if I liave prophesied, 1 know not. 1 
 do not deny iliiit the Irish church may need 
 li'furnintion ; but yw/ are falsely called reformers : 
 these never come with fire and sword ; they 
 never commit murder or robbery. Christ was 
 a reformer, and effected the greatest reformation 
 the world ever saw. There can be no Christian 
 reformation effected by any otiier means than 
 those he employed. Your reformation is not a 
 Christian reformation, because it is not after 
 the manner of Christ. Why should you claim 
 the massacre of the Waldenses and Albigenses 
 as an authority, when you reject the authority 
 of Rome in all other matters ? Rome will have 
 to pay the penalty of her crimes, as you will 
 of yours. At the bai* of divine justice, yoin* 
 mutual^ enormities will not be received as a 
 defence for either." 
 
 Doctor Wagstaff was silent. 
 
 " My dear brother M'Dermot's arguments," 
 said the prior, " are unanswerable : he only 
 pushes ihcm loo far, when he would have us 
 not resist evil. What w ould be the consequence, 
 if those who had right and justice on their side, 
 did not o})pose the wrong-doer? 
 
 '* I know not what the consequences would 
 be," said M*Dermot; *• the consequences are
 
 THK ADVENTURERS. 303 
 
 with God, with me is his law. I have not to 
 consider of consequences wliich I cannot com- 
 mand, but of obedience, which is within my 
 power. Did Abraham consider the conse- 
 quences, when his arm was raised to slay his 
 son ? It is such obedience as this that is required 
 of us ; and which fm* us who walk in the darkness 
 of this world is only meet." 
 
 " The church never understood it so ; but 
 always qualified its obedience by a reasonable 
 construction of the rule," said M*Egan. 
 
 *' I must differ with you, prior; the early 
 Christians did so understand the rule, and did 
 not presume to qualify it. They frequently 
 refused to enter the Roman armies, and many 
 of them suffered death in consetjuence ; as did 
 also those Roman soldiers who, havin<r' be- 
 come Christians, withdrew from the lc«rions. 
 Such was the case of Martin, mentioned by 
 Sulpicius Severus : " I am a Christian,'' said he 
 to Julian the apostate and j)hilosopher : " I 
 cannot fight." Such was the case of Tarachus, 
 who was executed in Cilicia before Numerianus 
 Maxinuis for the same offence, and of Marcellus, 
 a soldier of the Le«^i()n TrajnuM, and mullitndfs 
 l)esides." 
 
 ** Well," said the prior, *' it may be so. J
 
 304- Tlii: ADVtNTURERS. 
 
 have not had tiint' to h)()k into llicsc matters. 
 Hut it is very clear, that wlien one set ol Chris- 
 tians intend to improve or reform another, it is 
 not to be done by cutting; their throats or rifling 
 their pockets ; and that it camiot be very wrong 
 to resist such reformers." 
 
 De Burgo, somewhat tired of the argument, 
 now rose from table and followed the ladies, 
 who had before retired to Miss De Burgo*s 
 a))artnient. He was accompanied by the prior 
 and O'Neil. Dr. W'agstaff, somewhat discom- 
 fited, withdrew to his own apartment ; and 
 jNI'Derniot sought his chamber, to devote the 
 evening to study and devotion. 
 
 De Burgo was received at the door of his 
 daughter's little apartment by the young lady 
 herself, whose beautiful and ingenuous coun- 
 tenance was radiant with pleasure as she advan- 
 ced to greet her father. It was in this fairy 
 nook of the castle, that De Burgo s|)ent his 
 only happy hours. The walls were hung with 
 silver paj)er, and the two narrow and high 
 Gothic windows, which looked into the fine gar- 
 dens of the castle, were hung with white silk. 
 It was furnished with books in various languages, 
 curiously bound in })ink and green silk ; a lew 
 exquisite specimens of painting adorned the
 
 THE ADVENTl HERS. 305 
 
 wails ; some rare shells, and inslrmnums for 
 (IrawiiiiT, some music books, and a Spanish 
 jj^uitar, made up t\\c miscellaneons ornaments of 
 the apartment ; except two cages neatly con- 
 structed of silver wire, which were tenanted by 
 two favourite goldfinches, who were tameenougli 
 to be suffered to go at large in the apartment, 
 and to pay their court to their fair mistress, by 
 resting on her finger, or nestling hi her bosom. 
 
 ** Oh ! ))apa, I have got such a sweet bird 
 which Edda brought me, and it is so tame ! — 
 see, liow it hops upon my finger." But the bird 
 flew away, and looking up to ascertain the 
 cause of its flight, she saw the strangers. 
 
 " These jjentlemen have come to take coffee 
 with you, love." 
 
 " I fear we have terrified your }iretty bird, 
 Miss De Burgo," said O'Neil. 
 
 " He is only gone to his cage, till he observes 
 in safety what sort of persons you are. If he 
 likes you, he will come out presently," replied 
 the young lady. 
 
 " Your bird is prudent and sagacious, Mary. 
 I am sure he will like O'Neil, for 'tis said, he 
 wins upon gentle bosoms. I can't say what 
 opinion he may have of tiic prior."
 
 306 Tin: AnVKNTL'RERS. 
 
 *• Now 1 sliuuld tliiiik, jKipa, lliat he would 
 prefer the prior to Lord 'rvrone." 
 
 ** Why, my dear ?" 
 
 " Because the prior looks as it" he would not 
 hurt any one." 
 
 '* And O'Neil " 
 
 " And O'Neil looks a> if he would be very 
 fond for awhile, and would then twist off Pirra's 
 head in a passion ; — and he could not put it 
 on again you know, papa." 
 
 " No indeed ; but have you ordered coffee." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 And the coffee was brought in. It was 
 Turkish coffee, served in Moslem style of 
 luxury. 
 
 De Bnrgo did not like to enquire further 
 into Pirra's opinion of O'Neil. For though the 
 latter had laughed, he was by no means pleased 
 with the sagacity of the bird. Miss Bagnal, too, 
 had been observed to start and blush deeply, 
 as if the observation of the sagacious Pirra had 
 let in some new light upon her mind. 
 
 " I have often heard, prior," said De Burgo, 
 " of your friend M'Dermot, but never had the 
 pleasure of knowing him before. They tell 
 extraordinary things of him, of his piety antl 
 his learning, his gift of prophecy, and his mis-
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 307 
 
 tbrtunes. Tlicy say, moreover, tliat he is not 
 (jiiite ortluxlox in liis opinions of the church ol 
 Home, ihoui^^h lie so cordially reprobates the 
 church of Eui^laiid reformers of this country. 
 Now, I can't reconcile all this, except upon the 
 common notion that M*Dermot, with all his 
 talents and ac(juirements, is mad." 
 
 " Yes," said the prior, " that will reconcile 
 every thing. And it is true, that M'Dermot is 
 frequently in a state of mind bordering on mad- 
 ness, if not absolutely mad ; he is a recluse 
 man. But at times his j)owerful intellect walks 
 forth calmly, and in all its strength, to grapple 
 with the errors and the wickedness of the world. 
 And then, it is true, he will deal as hardly with 
 the church of Rome as with any other church ; 
 hut I think his detestation of the tyranny of 
 the church of England, makes him spare that 
 of Rome somewhat more than he might other- 
 wise do." 
 
 " Has he been long in the church ?" 
 " No. M*Dermot was the youngest of five 
 brothers, the eldest of whom was chieftain of a 
 powerful sept. All these have perished ; he 
 is the only survivor of his race. They fell in 
 war with the government of the Pale, and their 
 noble inheritance was divided amongst the
 
 308 THK ADVF.NTl'nERS. 
 
 Strangers. In early yoiitli M'Dcrniot had been 
 remarkable for beauty of person and gaiety of 
 heart. He is still a young man, though sor- 
 row lias planted grey hairs upon his brow, and 
 plowed furrows in his fine countenance. 
 
 " M'Dermot loved the daughter of a friend 
 and relative of his own, a family allied in vir- 
 tues as in blood. The day was fixed for hi!> 
 marriage, but when it arrived his bride was in 
 her shroud. Such a man as M*Dermot could 
 have no second love. He therefore devoted 
 himself actively to the cause of his family and 
 country. His family were not disposed to hos- 
 tilities, and had long struggled to preserve 
 peace with the government of the Pale. But 
 they found it impossible ; for they were wealthy, 
 and their lands were soine of the best in Ire- 
 land. The then Lord Deputy longed to add 
 them to his extensive domains. After a series 
 of injuries and annoyances, committed on the 
 sept by the procurement and connivance of the 
 Deputy ; they rose in arms, and demanded to 
 be led against the Saxon. In this stranjre world 
 the cause of justice is not always triumjihant. 
 The M'Dermots were defeated. Four brothers 
 perished in battle. The tribe was pursued with 
 great slaughter, and nearly exterminated, and
 
 THK ADVENTURERS. S09 
 
 \\\Q loiii; desired confiscation rewarded the vil- 
 laiiy of tlie Deputy. Hereft before of all that 
 niatle existence desirable, he was now a beg- 
 gar. In this extremity he closed the account 
 of life, and took leave of the world. I le took 
 holy orders, and sought, in the convent of In- 
 nisdune, for slieltcr and repose to his harassed 
 spirit. He had not been long in the convent, 
 when his only sister, and only remaining re- 
 lative in the world, who was married to M*Ma- 
 hon, the governor of Carrickrohtui, earnestlv 
 entreated his presence at the castle for a short 
 time. M*Dermot hesitated to obey her sum- 
 mons, lest, as he said, if he were with his 
 sister, some calamity should befal her. He 
 considered himself, like something having the 
 mysterious property of attracting the lightning 
 of Heaven from the clouds. The Hash ol' 
 calamity would be sure to descend upon 
 those he visited, and to reduce all he loved to 
 ashes around him. Hi' could only save them 
 by his absence ; and, perhaps, said he, even 
 our convent of Innisdunc nuiy feel the sad ef- 
 fects of M'Dermot's fatal presence. 
 
 " His sister, however, persisted ui her re- 
 (juest, and he went. iShortly after his arrival 
 at the castle, it was besieged, and, after a bravt-
 
 SIO Tin: ADVENTURERS. 
 
 defence, Uiken and destroyeil, and the governor 
 killed. These events had a strong eflect upon 
 M*l)erniot*s iniiigination, and his mind reeled 
 fearfully luider such severe visitiitions. When, 
 afterwards, he and his sister fell into the hands 
 of the Lord Marshal, the persecution she suf- 
 fered from the bear-like passion of the Saxon, 
 and the necessity to defend and protect her, 
 restored him to calmness, wliich has fortunately 
 not been since disturbed, even by the events at 
 Innisdune, though he attributes the destruction 
 of our convent to his being there. A deeper 
 gloom has fallen upon his spirit, and that is all. 
 And I think he will not stxiy long in your castle, 
 De Burgo, lest some mischief should befal 
 you." 
 
 " I have heard," said De Burgo, " that the 
 M^Dermots were always thought a mysterious, 
 or Ju/rd family, though very amiable." 
 
 " They were so : and there is no doubt, let 
 the mystery be accountetl for how it may, that 
 for ages there have been sad accidents and 
 strange occurrences in that family. There has 
 not been, in the memory of the oldest person, 
 any regular successit)n iVom ilithcr to son. The 
 husband of the eldest daughter has always
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 311 
 
 perished by a violent death. And the tradition 
 is, that it lias been so for ages." 
 
 " How is it, then, that the daughters of ihi- 
 family find husbands?" 
 
 " They are a handsome family, ami very 
 amiable. Many of the elder daughters have 
 refusetl to marry, though there were few of 
 them that could not obtain husbands, even at 
 such a forfeit. Mrs M'Mahon would not have 
 married, but she was almost compelled by the 
 persuasions of her friends, and the violent pas- 
 sion of her husband, who was content to try the 
 dangerous experimerS even though, as he said, 
 the old su})erstiti(m of the family were converted 
 into a certainty. In twelve months he declared 
 he would be willing to lay his head upon the 
 block, if he could upon no other terms win the 
 fair Matikla. Poor fellow ! his twelve months 
 were just expired, when he fell." 
 
 During this discourse the young Lady Ue 
 Burgo had led her female visitors to look at 
 some of her rarities in another angle of the 
 castle, and O'Xtil took leave to join them, leav- 
 ing the prior to try his skill with De Hurgo, in 
 an effort to stimulate him to more open and de- 
 cided hostilities against the British authorities. 
 When the prior introtluced this subject, he
 
 312 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 found l)c Hurgo willing to go with him freely to 
 a considtTable extent ; l)iit he soon perceived a 
 rchictancc in the Anglo-Irish chief to go the 
 full length lie wisiied for. However, he did 
 not despair ; as he thought that, having once 
 committed himself, the cautious chief, who 
 had now the fatal issue of Desmond's rebel- 
 lion before his eyes, would b<» drawn on by cir- 
 cumstances into greater lengths than he con- 
 templated. 
 
 I)e Hurgo, though Irish in birth, feeling, and 
 clmracter, was of a British stock, which had 
 been settled for a century or two in the country. 
 He was more an Irish chief than a British no- 
 ble, and was one of the most powerful of the 
 Anglo-Irish chieftauis of the west. These formed, 
 in the reign of Elizabeth, a class distinct, in 
 many respects, from the Lords of the jiure 
 Irish race, and every way more powerful, with 
 the exception of the O'Neils, and a few others. 
 Many of the Anglo-Irish chiefs still cultivated 
 an interest in England, which enabled them to 
 resist the encroachments of men in office in the 
 other country. The Irish chiefs, though ap- 
 parently possessing absolute power, held their 
 high places on certain conditions, which could 
 not be safely set aside. Their profuse and bound-
 
 THK ADVEVTURERS. 313 
 
 less hospitality introduced disordir into their 
 household, and reduced them to real poverty 
 in tlie nii(Ut of seeming profusion and magni- 
 ficence. 
 
 The Anglo-Irish cliief held his lands in per- 
 fect independence of his followers. His hospi- 
 tality was not of that wasteful kind which could 
 drain away his inheritance. Free from the ex- 
 actions of tlie state, whose power he generally 
 set at defiance, and exempt from the much more 
 oppressive demands of his own followers, he 
 grew ricii. f lis castle was stronger and more 
 spacious than that of the Irish chicftiiin ; his 
 troops and retainers were better appointed. His 
 celhirs were well stocked, and his table afibrded 
 rich and luxurious fare; while his house was 
 furnished with a taste and magnificence worthy 
 the state of the feiulal baron of Proi^ncCy or 
 wherever else feudahty hatl attained its highest 
 honours and dignity. 
 
 I)e I3ur<;o was a chieftain of this class. The 
 economy of his houseliold was regular and mag- 
 nificent, and he ])ri(led himself in his wealth, 
 and in a superiority both to the old Irish, and 
 the new English, the latter of whom he parti- 
 cularly hated and scorned. Amongst the former, 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 314 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 there were a ttw laniiiies to whom he, in com- 
 mon witli all tlu' AngIo-lri>li, ^ave the pre- 
 cedence in rank and (li«^iiity. The chief of these 
 was the family of the O'Neil. l)e Hurgo would 
 not willingly (juarrel with the British govern- 
 ment, but lie dreaded its ac(juirir)g too much 
 power in Ireland ; as, in such a case, there wa^ 
 every reason to fear, those lords of liis clas^ 
 would be dealt rigorously with, whom now the 
 feeble government of the Pale hardly dartil to 
 question upon any of their proceedings. 
 
 He considered it an indignity even to hold 
 intercourse with the persons who were usually 
 in authority in Ireland, for the most part, needy 
 adventurers or rapacious and profligate lords. 
 These, though wielding the authority of govern- 
 ment, De Burgo would not hesitate to chastise 
 when offended ; and would trouble himself very 
 little to use any jiretence or cover when doing 
 so. He attacked and defeated the Lord Mar- 
 shal's detachment, alleging merely, that the ren- 
 contre took place by accident, and the impru- 
 dence of Bagnal's party, who had connnitted 
 various unjustifiable tlepredations upon tlie 
 country. 
 
 This powerful nobleman professed the utmost
 
 THE ADVENTURIM. 'M5 
 
 obedience and submission to the Crown ; but 
 insisted upon his ri«rht to punisli any of ihr 
 Queen's ofTicers wlio presumed to misconduct 
 themselves. He was <^encrally wellnlisposed to 
 promote resistance to tlie authority of the govern- 
 ment of the Pale amongst the 7nere Irish, but 
 was reluctant to take ajiy decided step himself 
 beyond an occasional encounter, such as that 
 with the Marshal, which served to repress the 
 depredations of the aut/iuntits, and to keep up 
 his consequence in the country. 
 
 He had begun to dread the designs of the 
 Marshal; and had, in consetjuence, added to 
 the number of his cavalry, and put them into a 
 more complete state of equipment. He was 
 likewise busily employed in adding to the de- 
 fences of his castle, and boasted tliat he woukl 
 soon be in a condition to defy all the power ot 
 the Pale. 
 
 He soon perceived the drift ot the prior's 
 conversation, and encouraged him to believe 
 that lie was inclined to go Cirther than he was 
 really disposed to do. I le was rejoiced to fijid 
 that there were symptoms of war ; and he pro- 
 posed with himself to iielp them on : while he 
 should avoid all serious danger. The prior, on 
 P 2
 
 116 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 ilu- otlur haiul, liiul some suspicion ol' the old 
 lord's real mind ; l)ut expecte(i tlial if he 
 could once (haw liim into hostihtics, he would 
 |)ush him farther than lie might now propose. 
 They were tolerably well matched ui insincerity 
 and address, and were a very fair specimen of 
 I (Miimon-place diplomacy. 
 
 I)c Burgo's castle was a new scene for Miss 
 Bagnal. The young lady of the castle was as 
 amiable as she was beautiful ; — she exhibited a 
 mixture of simplicity and acutencss not uncom- 
 mon at that age, when the brightness of the 
 young intelligence is just beginning to break 
 through. the soft clouds of infancy which en- 
 compass it; — sometimes surprising her guests 
 by the solidity of her observations, and some- 
 times by their childish simplicity. She had 
 read extensively for her age, and wiis ac- 
 (juainted with the best authors in the Italian 
 and French languages, and had some know- 
 ledge, and more taste in music ; but her inform- 
 ation in these branches of knowledge was 
 imperfect, as her instructors had been very 
 incompetent. O'Xeil, who was versed in all 
 the Irarning and accomplishments of the age, 
 ')frt're(l to bucoinc her instructor duriui; liis
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 817 
 
 short stay at the aislle. Miss Bagiial joined in 
 these studies; and a few days of calm and de- 
 lightful society which she then enjoyed, were 
 the happiest of her life. . 
 
 P 3
 
 318 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 CHAPTKR XVI. 
 
 1 HF.si; aj^reeable pursuits were interrupted by 
 news, that the Lortl Marshal was marching 
 against UHck's Tower at the head of a conside- 
 rable force, with intent to punish this daring 
 Lord, for his rash attack uj)on the Queen's 
 troops. O'Neil thought it right, in this emer- 
 gency, to acquaint Miss Bagnal of the rumouretl 
 approach of her brother, and she immediately 
 decided to set out and meet him. She felt, 
 indeed, that she had too long delayed this meet- 
 ing, and that it ought not now to be postponed 
 for an instant. 
 
 The next day, Miss Bagnal took leave of 
 her friends at Ulick's Tower — the hospitable 
 and excellent Lord, and his amiable daughter. 
 M*Dermot and his sister, and the other refu- 
 gees of Innisdune, left the castle at the same 
 time, proceeding in different directions, in search 
 of that shelter which the calamities of war had 
 so frequently deprived them of. From these
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 519 
 
 kind friends, Miss Baj^nal parted with regret ; 
 she had learned to love the passive gentleness 
 of the beautiful widow, and to esteem her bro- 
 ther as the most exalted of characters. The 
 prior remained nt Ulick's Tower. 
 
 When the hurry and regret of this parting 
 had subsided, Miss Bagnal's mind became en- 
 gaged with the thought of her separation from 
 O'Neil, which was to take place on her arrival 
 at her brother's. Whether it was that both 
 were occupied with the same train of thought — 
 or, whatever it was — they travelled on in 
 silence, interrupted only by slight occasional 
 notices, which showed that a painful reserve had 
 grown up between them, apparently without 
 cause. 
 
 Towards the close of the second day's jour- 
 ney, the travellers found themselves surrounded 
 by military parties, which proved to be the 
 videttes and out-posts of the Marshal's little 
 army. O'Neil was recognised by the soldiers, 
 and conducted to the advanced guard of this 
 corps. Here he learned from the officer com- 
 manding, that they had been in the field some 
 weeks, and that the reported object of their 
 enterprise wiis an attack upon Ulick's Tower, 
 but that their movements did not countenance 
 p 4
 
 S80 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 this destination, and the army were yet uncer- 
 tain wliat mi^dil he the result of these demon- 
 strations. 
 
 When O'Neil hail arriveii at the Generars 
 paviUon, he was suq)rised to find it setoff with 
 more gay and splenchd adornments, than he 
 should have thought suited to the severe and 
 strict character of his tiienil liagnal. Before 
 the tent was a numerous guard of grenadiers, 
 and the colours and drums of a battalion. — 
 O'Neil was received by the guard with tlie 
 honours due to a British officer of huAi rank. 
 On entering the General's tent, they found the 
 sumptuousness of the interior to correspond 
 with the appearances outside : it was hung with 
 drapery of rose-coloured satin, antl the furni- 
 ture was costly and beautiful. Bagnal was not 
 at his quarters ; but he soon arrived. He re- 
 ceived his sister with much coldness and gra- 
 vity ; merely observing, that she had made a 
 long journey from Dublin, anil that a tent in 
 the fields was not a very suitable place for an 
 English latly. Towards O'Neil, his manner 
 was stately and formal, but punctiliously 
 courteous. 
 
 " Me hoped," he said, " die Earl of Tyrone 
 would aflbrd him the benefit of his talents and
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 'V2l 
 
 juKice, in the exf)e<.lition he had undertakeii tor 
 the Queen's service ; ami as the road between 
 the position he now occupied, and his cattle on 
 Lough Erne, was dan<^erous to pass, he must 
 suffer Miss Baf^nal to remain where she was for 
 a few days, till he could send an escort with 
 her. Perhaps, however," he continued, " tlie 
 Lord Tyrone would prefer remaining with 
 Miss Bagnal, and continuing to her that power- 
 ful protection which he had favoured lier with 
 so long." 
 
 O'Neil did not choose to notice this speech 
 further, than to say, that *' he was sorry he w as 
 under the necessity of declining both engage- 
 ments, as his own affairs in the North required 
 his immediate presence there ; Miss Hagnal, 
 when in her brother's care, could want no |)ro- 
 tection; and the Queen's service, when pro- 
 moted by the Lord Marshal, could not need his 
 feeble assistance." 
 
 The Lord Marshal made no rej)ly; and 
 O'Neil t<K)k leave of his old companion in arms 
 with the cold and ceremonious courtesy with 
 which he was received. Miss Hagnal had Ix'en 
 wounded at heart by her brother's reception of 
 lier, and she remained sitting on a velvet cuslwon 
 in the tent, m a state of almost stupefuctioii. wlie?* 
 p 5
 
 5W TUF ADVENTURERS. 
 
 (VNeil npprortched to take his leave. She was now 
 rouseil into a sudden, but still benumbed sensi- 
 bility, as when one feels the knife of the surgeon 
 dividintr the liinb which had been bound up and 
 deadened for the operation. The pain and the 
 privation both struck upon her heart. Could 
 s!ie remain with this unnatural brother, whose 
 reception could only be considered a>i a dis- 
 claimer of all ties of kindred and kindness? What 
 was to become of her, a helpless female, in a 
 camp amidst scenes of violence and war ? And 
 her only kind and generous friend was leaving 
 her. W'ould she ever see him more ? 
 
 These thoughts passed rapidly through her 
 mind, and overwhelmed her in this trying scene. 
 It woultl be hard to ascertain what was said 
 upon either side. Some indistinct murmurs and 
 half sentences were attempted, which were wholly 
 without meaning themselves, exce})tas their very 
 want of meaning might have indicated die state 
 of feeling on both sides. O'Neil was surprised 
 to find his self-possession desert him for the first 
 time in his life. He kissed Mi^s Hagnal's hand, 
 and hurried away without attempting to be more 
 explicit or distinct, — two or three efforts to rally 
 his scattered senses having utterly failed. 
 
 O'Neil had passed away with his train, when
 
 Tlir ADVENTURERS. fl28 
 
 Miss Bafrnal, at length recoveretl from a long 
 reverie, l)egaii tt> make some effort to arrange 
 her ideas. It seemed as if her life, wliich had 
 stiignated for so many years at Bagnal Close, 
 had suddenly acquired an extraordinary velocity 
 of current. It wiis like a river whicli had glided 
 gently for many miles throiigli a level and tame 
 country; then suddenly entering a land of hills 
 and declivities, its cliaracter became changed, 
 and it rushed foaming and impetuous through its 
 rocky channel. Her late life had been a dream, 
 a fairy tale, in whicli the events of years were 
 crowded into moments. And now tliat the s}>ell 
 was broken, and the dream was passing away, 
 she was amazed at the feverish excitement in 
 which she must have lived since she left Bag- 
 nal's Close. In a few weeks she had lived an 
 age. Then she would have thought of O'Neil, 
 and examined into the state of her feelings with 
 respect to him, but she coultl not fix die ^ul)- 
 ject; there was a mystery about it; and when 
 she souglit to grasp and examine it, it was gone. 
 It was a region of clouds and shadows : and 
 when she tried to enter it, the thick darkness 
 closed around her, and she saw nothing ilis- 
 tinclly. After awhile she gave uj) the attempt, 
 determining to wait a more favourable oppor- 
 p G
 
 S24 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 liiiiitv, wImii Ikt luiiul might be more at ease, 
 ami better prepareil to examine this place of 
 mystery . 
 
 Hours hail passed in this process of thought : 
 and Nvhcn ^he rose to look abroad, she perceived 
 that the army, wiiose long line of tents had a 
 short time before looked so gay and crowded, 
 were all in motion. The tents were struck, and 
 the soldiers were marching to the north-east of 
 the encampment. In a few minutes nothing re- 
 mained ol' the military pageant which encom- 
 passed her stmie hours before, but a few soldiers 
 surrounding the tent which she occu})ied. Her 
 brother's tent was very spacious, and ail'orded 
 every acconnnodation for her and her waiting 
 maid. It was now late in the day, and she took 
 some refreslmient which the Lord Marshal's 
 servants provided, and withdrew to rest. Fa- 
 tigue is a good nurse, and soon lulled her to 
 sleep, notwithstanding all her disquietudes. She 
 slept till late the following morning. When she 
 rose, her first en(|uiries were (.)!" her brother and 
 his army. 8he was answered that there was 
 no news; but that early in llie morning a heavy 
 firing hail been heard to the north-eastwaril. 
 
 The camp was situated at the foot of a hill of 
 small elevation, but which counnanded an ex-
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 325 
 
 tensive view of the adjacent country. The sum- 
 mit of tliis iiill wjis uccupit'd by a few videtts. 
 Nutwithstamlin«; Ikt l)rotlK'r's unkinihicss, Miss 
 Biignal tclt tlic most distressing anxiety lor his 
 safety. She perceived that the present expedi- 
 tion was involved in some mystery. She could 
 not learn what was the object of attiick, but from 
 all she heard, she was satisfied it was not I lick's 
 Tower; and she thought it likely that the report 
 had been spread as a feint. It was about noon, 
 when she determined to walk to the top of the 
 hill, and take a view of tiie surroundin*; conntrv : 
 she and her servant were accomnuKlated with 
 seats upon this elevation. It commanded a view 
 of the windiiifjjs of the Shannon for a considerable 
 tlistance, and the beautiful scenery of Longford 
 and Leitrim. After remaining on tiiis point a 
 considerable time, Miss Bagnal's anxious eye 
 discerned fires in the distance. The soldiers, 
 hardly less anxious than herself, beheld them at 
 first with doubt and apprehension; but as the 
 fires increased, and took a direction towards 
 them, their fears were turned into joy. They 
 now knew that the army was on its return, and 
 diat tilt; *' line of light," which was bending its 
 way in various brilliant wiiulings towards the 
 camp, was no other than the blazing cottages of
 
 '\2G THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 the peasants, whicli tlic victorious army fired as 
 tliey passed. 
 
 Lucy Hajrnal knew little of war. The sacking 
 n\' Innisdune had filled her with disirust for this 
 lecreatioii of statesmen and princes; and the 
 preseiu exhibition, notwithstandintr its brilliancy, 
 hlled her heart with horror. She incjuired why 
 the cottages of the unoffending })ea8ants were 
 burned / and the (jueslion only excited the sur- 
 prise and bughter of tiie soldiers. It was 
 always ilone, was the only reply. As the armv 
 a])proached nearer, this triuni})hant conflagra- 
 tion became still more gi on' otis. The peasants 
 were now seen running to the hills with their 
 wives a!ul children, and dragging along such 
 articles ot'clothing and furniture as were portable 
 or traiiaolf, and the sabres of the cavalrv were 
 seen reflecting the blaze, as they came on too 
 rapidly for the flying and encund)ered peasants. 
 ( )ne of these p(X)r wretches was pursued by three 
 drsigoons — the foremost was close uj)()n him. 
 but lie bounded over every obstacle with the 
 strength and velocity of the hunted stiig. He 
 carried a burden in his bosom which he some- 
 times stoi)ped to adjust, as if he relied confi- 
 th-nlly on his own fleetness. Hut in leaping a 
 trench lie fell, and dropt his burden — it was an
 
 IHK ADVENTURERS. 327 
 
 jntant cliiUl. lie was apiiii upon his legs, niul 
 had replaced his tre;isure in his hosoin, wlien 
 the dragoon reached him, and passing him, ttK>k 
 a position in the Une ol' Ins flight The man 
 saw tlmt the case was desperate. I le Uiid down 
 his child, and darted upon the soldiers with the 
 tiger's lea}) ot'strength and daring. He brought 
 the horseman to the ground, and jerking him 
 into the deep trench, as if he were a clod ol 
 earth in his hand, he again took up his child 
 and prepared tor flight. But the children of 
 destiny struggle in vain for escape. The miser- 
 able man fell a second time. And when he 
 rose again, two other dragoons were at his side : 
 he laid down his child (|uietly on the turf, and 
 sat beside it. I le made no eflbrt to escape ; no 
 resistance ; neither did he deprecate the rage ol" 
 the soldiers. Lucy Bagnal turned away her 
 head, for it was dizzy, and her heart was sick. 
 When she looked again, the peasant and his 
 child lay dead upon the grass, and the sokliers 
 were riding slowly away. 
 
 She now left the hill and returned to the 
 tent, seriously indisposed. It was evening, and 
 the army were entering the camp, bringing w iih 
 them a few |)risoners and abundance of s|>oiI. 
 When the troops had taken up therr former
 
 328 TIIK ADVr.NTlUKIlS. 
 
 (juartcrs, the Lord Marshal entered his tent. He 
 made a slight enquiry how his sister had rested 
 and been aceomnioilated, and without waiting for 
 an answer, gave directions to his orderly sergeant 
 that the colonels of regiments and captains of 
 troops should be sunnnoned to meet in his 
 tent innnediatcly. His manner was deliberate 
 and gloomv, but there were occasional symp- 
 toms of great agitation. At length he sat down, 
 and resting his forehead on his hand, a])peared 
 to sink into a profound nuising. After a while 
 his sister ventured to approach him ; and en- 
 quired in a voice of kindness, if he was well ? 
 
 Thus accosted, he looked up and without 
 noticing the encjuiry ; asked how she had passed 
 all the time she had b.'cn in Lord Tyrone's 
 company ? 
 
 " \vr\ agreeably indeed ; Lord Tyrone is a 
 man of very agreeable maimers, and seems to 
 possess great talents." 
 
 " You seem to think better of him than his 
 wife does : - I imagine the good opinion is 
 nuitual, and that he thinks more tenderly of 
 Miss Bagnai, than he does of her." 
 
 '' I hope not ; but if he does not love his 
 wife, I should be almost inclined to say it was her 
 fault, unless I judge (xf him very erroneously."
 
 THK ADVENTURERS. 329 
 
 ** Ave, aye," saul Haixnal ; '* I thoujrht so." 
 
 '* Hut, my dear brother, I woulil be «;lail to 
 liave your opinion of Loril Tyrone, if I am in 
 error." 
 
 ** My 0})inion ! Do you think me such a tool 
 as to inia<^ine that any opinion I could give 
 would wei^h uilli a woman aj^ainst her own 
 notion, when the subject is an Irishman of such 
 consummate art as that " 
 
 Here some officers were announced, and 
 Miss Bagnal retired to the inner apartment of 
 the tent, which had been allotted to her. 
 
 The expedition had been eminently success- 
 ful ; the Castle of Monaghan lay in ruins. It 
 had hardly made any defence, as no attack was 
 suspected to the very instant of the investment, 
 rhe whole country was spoiled and pillaged 
 without any attempt at resistance, so great was 
 the astonishment and surprise of the people at 
 this unexpected attack. 
 
 The (juestion upon which the Lord Marshal 
 held council with his officers, was touching the 
 fate of M*Mahon, the old chieftain of Monaghan, 
 whom he had brought prisoner to the aimp. 
 A majority thought tiiat he ought to Ik* sent 
 prisoner to Dublin, to await there any charges 
 which might \)c preferred against him. This
 
 ^30 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 Opinion was ovcrrultd by tlic Mftrslml. 1 If 
 said that siicli a course would be most dangerous 
 tor the puhhc service. It would ^ivc time to 
 such traitors as I)c Hur^o and others to inter- 
 fere, and after some mock process, M'Mahon 
 would be sent hack to his territory, and all that 
 had been done to advance the interests of 
 Knnjland would go for nothing. These interests, 
 in the jiresent state of parties and factions, re- 
 <]uire(l decided measures, which would leave no 
 time for cabinet intrigues. He would take 
 the responsibility of his measures upon himself; 
 and he had made up his mind to try the old 
 rebel, M'Mahon, by court-martial; and as it 
 appeared that some of the officers might liave 
 objections to this course, he would now siunmon 
 a jury, which, as Lord Marshal, he had autho- 
 rity to do, ami would put the old lord upon his 
 trial without delay, and execute the sentence of 
 the law with the same dispatch. 
 
 The officers looked amazed at these ra|)id 
 proceedings, but there was only one who ven- 
 tured to remonstrate. Ca})tain Condor, who 
 had joined the Marshal a few days before this, 
 protested against such violent measures. He 
 siud that he was not long from Dublin, and he 
 knew that this old lord was looked upon a^ onv
 
 rHK ADVENTURERS. 331 
 
 t)f the most loyal ami inotleiisive men in the 
 country. That the faith of government was 
 specially pleclgetl to support him ; and that, 
 thou«^h they were debating; how lie was to l>e 
 tried, he had yet to learn what were his ofVences. 
 
 *' The jury shall he informed of them," said 
 the Marshal. 
 
 *' I do not like juries who delilxjrate in camps," 
 replied the Captain, " with armed men around 
 them. Neither can I imajrine liow a jury could 
 l>e got here. If he is tried, he will be condemned 
 I have no doubt ; and then what will the people 
 of Ireland say ? Will they not say, that those 
 who weakly trust to the faith of England, devote 
 themselves to destruction ? Will they not say, 
 that we took advantafre of M'Mahon's unsus- 
 pecting confidence to sack his castle and spoil 
 liis country ; and that all the usages of law 
 and forms of justice were set aside, for the pur- 
 pose of conmiitting a foul murder upon this 
 unoffending old man ?" 
 
 The Marshal's orderly now entered, and pre- 
 sented a list of the jur\' which he had prepared. 
 
 Captain Condor looked over the list — 
 " These, my lord," said he, " arc all connnon sol- 
 diers of our own army. Do you call this a trial ? 
 These men are not sunmiuned to try, but to
 
 9SS THK ADVENTURERS. 
 
 condcjiin. This is too iiukIi. Kvcn the iiuh^- 
 iiity will \)v li'lt more grievous tlum tlic death 
 
 — to try a noble of the hind by a jury ol' com- 
 mon sohhers ! of the very men who have Ixjen 
 sacking his castle ! who must therefore consider 
 him as an enemy; wliile he must look upon 
 them as stran<,a'rs and foi'ei^niers. 'J^he people 
 of this land, my lord, will foigive injuries, but 
 they never forgive insults. 'I'his act will put 
 an eternal enmity between us. I propose that 
 we reconsider this subject again to-morrow, and 
 that we do now adjourn our decision." 
 
 '* Not for an instant," said the Marshal, rising. 
 
 — " MV' have lost too much time in listening 
 to this jargon of vain words. Gentlemen, to 
 your posts." 
 
 The followin«r morniuir old M'Mahon of 
 Monafjhan, was leil to trial. The whole army 
 was draw II up in a hollow scjuare ; in the centre 
 of which, round a drum head, the jury were 
 ranged. This jury had been prepared by the 
 Marshal's orderly, and were taken from the 
 grenadiers of his own regiment ol' infantry. 
 The Marshal condescended to state to them 
 himself, the charges of high treason which he 
 had prepared against the prisoner. These w ere, 
 that two Years before, he had entered the county
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. S33 
 
 of Leitriiii, iit llie head ofa lar^^e iniliUiry tbrce, 
 in Older to compel llic payiuent of rent wliicli 
 he allej^ecl to be duo ; and tliat he collected the 
 said rent by force of arms, contrary to the statute 
 of our lady the Queen, in that case made and 
 provideil, which made such a proceeding high 
 treason, and the penalty death. 
 
 M'Mahon was asked what he had to answer 
 to this charge. — " Nothing," replied the old 
 man, " but that it is true. I did as you say, my 
 lord, collect my rent by force of arms, according 
 to the law and usage of my own country. I 
 never heard of the law you speak of, nor was it 
 ever known or acknowletlged in my country. 
 If my tenant, from whom I collected this rent, 
 complains of it, let him come forward." 
 
 " Soldiers," said the Marshal, " the fact is 
 acknowledged. Vou have only to find accord- 
 ingly. It is to me to apply the law. The 
 prisoner's ignorance of the law does not excuse 
 him." The soldiers instantly fount! a verdict 
 of " guilty" of high treason, and it was recorded 
 by the orderly sergeant. 
 
 '* My lord," said M*Mahon *• 1 kiun\ thai 
 I must die; — I have lived long enough, and 
 am not sorry to lay down (he burden of life. 
 But this act will raise a llaine in Ireland, which
 
 33i niv: advlnturers. 
 
 your p>vciiimi lit will liiid it liard to extinguish. 
 Mv i)osses.sioiis in Monagimn are UKy near and 
 (•onvt'nitiit to your lordship's government ; and 
 the blood oi" an old man is an easy cement, to 
 unite them to your other acquisitions in Ireland, 
 llespectuig tlie hiw of Enghuid under which 
 you are about to condcnm me, neither tliis, nor 
 juiy other English hiw was ever esUiblished or 
 acknowledged in Monaghan. We lived, and 
 still live under own laws, and by these only are 
 we judged. But it' this law be ofany obligatioli 
 on us, at least this tribunal is incompetent to 
 try it. I am an Irish nobleman, so acknowledged 
 by Elizabeth's own patent under her great seal. 
 I appeal then to her Lord De})uty, to her 
 learned Jud«rcs, or to her house of Peers. Lot 
 me be judged by these, and let at least the 
 tbrms of justice be observed, for the sake of 
 humanity, and the peace of Ireland. If I die 
 this death, my blood will be recjuired at your 
 hands, and at the hands of thousands of your 
 countrymen." 
 
 *' And we will answer the appeal like true 
 men," said the Marshal. — " Let the provost do 
 hi> duty."— M'Mahon was led off to execution. 
 
 A roll of the drums now told the astonished 
 camp that the good old chief was no more. It
 
 mr ADVKNTLRERA. S35 
 
 was ut this lime, lntt% and a liurk uiid glooiny 
 evening closed the busy duy. 'I'lu- rain des- 
 cended in torrents, and ihe tliundcr rolled 
 awfully, ushering in a tempestuous night, 'Hie 
 Lord President sat in his tent alone, ills 
 sister, shocked and terrified by the dreiulful 
 events of the day, was ill, and incapable of 
 quitting her chamber. All the bright visions 
 which had cheered her fancy during her journey, 
 appeared to have sunk into the earth, and to 
 have set in bloiKl and horror. She had delighted 
 her imagination with the idea of her brother 
 once so dear to her, elevated to high honours, 
 rich in renown, and arrayed in virtue, enjoying 
 tlie love and esteem of his fellow-soldiers, and 
 the res|)ect even of his enemies ; and brinL'iiii: 
 to meet her a heart overflowing with kindi 
 delighting to retrace the scenes of their inno- 
 cent and happy childluxxl, and to renew after 
 so many years of absence that dear and cheri.shetl 
 affection, which had luen the treasure and 
 delight of their early years. 
 
 Oh, what a change ! — I ler airessi^ uerr 
 met with something like derision, and bitter 
 sarcasm : her broUier repulsed, and scorned her. 
 In his government, his procetMJings were those 
 of a remorseless and ferocious tvrant ; aiul.
 
 336 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 finally, he had dipped his hands in innocent 
 blood, for the poor consideration of seizing upon 
 the spoil of his victim. 
 
 This last reflection, instead of hardening her 
 heart against her unhappy brother, softened 
 it towards him. He was a lost person; one 
 sunk too low for anger, but deserving of all pity 
 and compassion. Fit subject for a sister's tears 
 and efforts : — she resolved not to desert her 
 brother in this his awful fall. His fate may 
 not yet be sealed amongst the number of those 
 who are lost for ever, and for whom there is no 
 Miturn to the throne of mercy. She would try 
 every means in his behalf; but she felt that now 
 was not the time for any exertion of her's, nor 
 was she now capable of making any. 
 
 She was ill, and exhausted in mind and body, 
 yet she continued to think on various plans for 
 recalling her brother to the habits of his early 
 life. While her mind was thus employed, she 
 fell asleep. She slept ; but her slumbers 
 were troubled : — she was w andering through 
 the camp, wet and weary, seeking her brother's 
 tent, and could not find it ; and wherever she 
 turned, the headless and bleeding body of old 
 M*Mahon lay in her way, and stopped her pas- 
 sage, and her clothes were dripping blood. —
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 337 
 
 Overcome with fatigue and horror, she shrieked 
 aloud, but she did not wake. In her sleep, she 
 was relieved by tears : they flowed plentifully ; 
 and she sobbed herself, at length, into a quiet 
 slumber. 
 
 Bagnal had been roused from his reverie by 
 the shriek in the adjoining chamber of the pa- 
 villion. He had forgotten that his sister was in 
 the tent; and now suddenly recollecting her, 
 he stole softly to her bed-side, to inquire the 
 cause of her alarm ; — but he found her asleep 
 and weeping. He stood leaning over her 
 for an instant. — That countenance, once so 
 loved, recalled, spite of him, the thoughts of 
 home and other days ; — and those tears, for 
 whom did they flow ? — He heard her speak 
 again ; — it was his name which she pronounced, 
 in tones of the fondest affection : — her dearest 
 Henry, — how could he use her so ? Now, 
 her imagination seemed to have gone with him to 
 the scenes of their childhood : — she mentioned, 
 in indistinct murmurs, their garden toils, their 
 walks, and favourite resting-places ; — and again 
 she shuddered, and seemed to repulse him with 
 horror, bidding him " go, go, go, and wash the 
 blood from his hands." 
 
 Bagnal's solitary reverie had not been one of 
 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
 y'-^9
 
 338 THE ADVENTURERS. 
 
 contrition. He had been planning schemes to 
 secure the possessions of M'Mahon ; for which, 
 he foresaw, there would be many claimants, 
 though the guilt of the acquisition would be 
 left to his undivided share ; but he had no doubt 
 of obtaining for himself the most considerable 
 portion of this great forfeiture. But his sister — 
 asleep, and sorrowing for his lost affection ; — 
 her tears, — her agony for his crimes, — her 
 touching references to their childhood, — pro- 
 duced an effect, which, waking, no effort of her's 
 could have accomplished. There was an instant 
 revulsion of thouijht and feelino- : it was as if a 
 thick scale, which had hitherto obscured his 
 sight, had fallen from his eyes, and enabled 
 him suddenly to behold the objects around him 
 in their true shapes and proportions. He shud- 
 dered at the career he had entered upon ; — 
 he looked at his hands, as if to see whether the 
 blood of the old man was upon them ; — then 
 his busy and eager spirit, breaking from the 
 present scene, and travelling, in an instant, 
 through the events of years, over space "and 
 time, laid him down in the mansion of his fa- 
 thers, in the happiness of his early life, and 
 surrounded with all its innocent and deliijhtful 
 associations.
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 339 
 
 He gave himself up with desperation to these 
 visions, so full of suffering, and yet he medi- 
 tated no change of conduct. He felt like a man 
 who had entered upon a course, the horror of 
 which, and its dark and dreadful termination, 
 was suddenly revealed to him, — but too late. 
 A voice from the bottom of his heart — from 
 the very depths of its agony — seemed to speak 
 to him, and to say, " go on, — there is no return 
 for Bagnal to the paths of vu'tue." What was 
 this mysterious voice ? — A delusion ; — a 
 reaUty? He could not determine. He was 
 overwhelmed with the confusion and horror of 
 his feelings. Hardly breathing, he made a 
 resolute effort to ascertain the nature of the 
 mysterious voice which still sounded his unal- 
 terable fate in his ears. He heard it again ; — 
 but it was now his sister's voice, mu) muring 
 gently in her sleep. She turned her face 
 towards him; — her tears were. dried; — she 
 breathed freely ; — and, as he gazed upon her, 
 her sweetest smile spread itself over her fine 
 features. 
 
 That smile was familiar to Bagnal ; and he 
 once thought it a rich reward for the little toils 
 she imposed upon him at Bagnal's Close, when 
 S 2
 
 540 THE ADVENTUREHS. 
 
 her garden was to be new -modelled, or a dis- 
 tant cottage was to be visited upon some errand 
 of charity. Her lips moved again ; — she was 
 tliinking, perhaps, of those last days, when they 
 were both so happy, and when he was as guilt- 
 less as herself. — " O'Neil ;" — yes ; it was 
 0*Neil, again and again repeated. It was this 
 cursed Irishman of whom she dreamed, and for 
 whom she smiled. 
 
 Bagnal took the light from the table, execrat- 
 ing his folly, and the miserable drivelling into 
 which a woman's dreams had beguiled him. 
 He returned to his own apartment, and im- 
 mediately fell into the same train of thought 
 which his sister's cries had interrupted. He 
 reviewed with pride and pleasure his career, 
 since he had left his father's house. 
 
 As a British officer and a governor, charged 
 to promote the interests of England in this bar- 
 barous country, he had done his duty, and no 
 more than his duty. If, instead of the old trai- 
 tor, M'Mahon, he could entrap and cut off the 
 whole of this vile race, he should do a just and 
 wise act. If he profited by the spoil of this old 
 man, it was no more than the usage of war ; 
 and it was for the benefit of the Crown of
 
 THE ADVENTURERS. 341 
 
 England, that the fi'uitful lands of this fine 
 country should pass into safe hands of natural- 
 born subjects. With these thoughts, he laid 
 himself down to rest, and slept soundly till 
 morning. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
 
 London : 
 
 Printed by A. & R.'Spottiswoode, 
 New-Street-Square.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 003503692 
 
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