OF THE 
 UN IVLRSITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 V. I 
 
Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive 
 
 in 2010 witii funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/boynewatertale01bani 
 
THE BOYNE WATER, 
 
 A TALE, 
 
 BY 
 
 THE O'HARA FAMILY. 
 
 AUTHORS OF TALES, 
 COMPRISING 
 
 CROHOORE OF THE BILL-HOOK, THE FETCHES, AND 
 JOHN DOE. 
 
 Cries the stall reader, bless us, what a word on 
 
 A title page is this? and some in file 
 
 Stand spelling false, while one might walk to Wile- 
 End Green. Why, is it harder, sirs, than Gordon, 
 Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp ?" 
 
 Milton's Sonnets. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. l. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR W. SIMPKIN AND R. MARSHALL, 
 
 STATIONERS'-HALL COURT, LUDGATE-STREET. 
 
 1826. 
 
J. M'Creery, Tooks Court, 
 Chaacery Liine, Loudoa. 
 

 INTRODUCTORY LETTER, 
 
 3 FROM MR. ABEL O'HARA TO MR. BARNES O'HARA, 
 
 d GRAY'S INN, LONDON. . 
 
 Inismare, Feb. 2, 1826. 
 
 My Dear Barnes, 
 
 Happy we are, to learn from yours duly 
 received, (along with your last transcript of our 
 weary Boyne Water) by the hands of Mr. Den- 
 nis Mahony, of this place, that you are well, 
 and in good spirits, and near the conclusion of 
 your legal studies and dinner-eating, so that we 
 may all now reckon upon your return amongst 
 us, sooner than we had ventured to a,nticipate. 
 Mr. Mahony reports you as well perched, too, 
 in a third or fourth story of the honorable inn 
 of court to which you are appended, comfort- 
 able and sleek to look at, when the double door 
 of your chambers has once been gained ; but 
 VOL. I. b 
 
11 INTRODUCTOPcY LETTER. 
 
 this, he adds with a sneer, (not, indeed, to me, 
 but, as I can learn, to others,) is rather a task, 
 although, as he is a tolerably fat little man, and 
 not much used to bodily exertion, no great im- 
 portance can be attached to his views of your 
 situation, either in this instance, or in others, 
 concerning which, (I am further able to learn,) 
 he has allowed himself a certain latitude of re- 
 mark among the curious of your native village. 
 Meantime, my dear Barnes, I hope there is 
 really no bad symptom in the seeming elevation 
 you enjoy. Though so many years your se- 
 nior, (as, during my hours of hterary toil, the 
 green glasses can witness), I know httle of the 
 usages of a great city ; yet, with us, at home, 
 second floors — I should say third or fourth, if 
 such things were common — are allotted, in lodg- 
 ing-houses, to persons of somewhat delicate 
 circumstances, who sink in estimation just ac- 
 cording to their rise in the edifice; and you will, 
 yourself, recollect, as examples of this truth, 
 Mr. Fantonaci, the itinerant profile-artist, and 
 poor young Walpole, the tragic hero of our 
 court-house theatricals, who successively te- 
 nanted what we call " the loft*' of the Nelson — 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. m 
 
 the little thatched public-house, on the Dublin 
 road, outside the town. Excuse my disquietude, 
 which, after all Mr. Mahony says, may only 
 move your laughter ; yet, I am a little pained 
 at the nature of his frequent observations, on 
 this, and, as I have said, on other subjects ; all 
 faithfully conveyed to me by sincere friends of 
 yours and mine, who kindly make it a point 
 never to leave me ignorant of a single word 
 whispered against either of us. 
 
 Richard, ever more spirited, or else hotter 
 than I am, is still more annoyed ; he talks of 
 going, with a friend, straight into Mr. Ma- 
 hony's shop, and, in the presence of all he shall 
 find in it, (and you may remember, it generally 
 contains a good number of Mr. M.'s acquaint- 
 ance) bringing him to I know not what account, 
 and in I know not what manner ; this is mere 
 impetuosity, however, and we will not hear of 
 it. But can you tell me, Barnes, what literary 
 friends Mr. Mahony has in London ? — That 's 
 the point I should wish to ascertain. He cer- 
 tainly left Inismore with the same favorable no- 
 tion of your late little success that was enter- 
 tained by his neighbours ; and this seemed 
 b2 
 
IV INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 proved, I suspect, by his offering (handsomely, 
 as I thought) to take charge of letters for you, 
 upon the important eve of his sudden journey 
 to the great city ; but his literary friends have 
 given him, he says, quite a novel view of the 
 matter. And now I have worse tidings for 
 you. In this novel view, Mr. Mahony is up- 
 held by old Dr. Hummum, to whom, upon the 
 very first morning of his reappearance behind 
 his counter, he communicated it, in the pre- 
 sence of a number of news-loving gentlemen, 
 and two little girls, customers ; and I can as- 
 sure you the assent of the doctor, and his 
 serious repetition of the thing, make some im- 
 pression on part of the public mind of Inis- 
 more; inasmuch as the old gentleman, although 
 rather out of practice in his own profession 
 of medicine, phlebotomy, and man-midwifery, 
 enjoys great fame here, for the book he pub- 
 lished himself, and which, you know, was print- 
 ed by Mr. Isaac Holmes, of the High-Street ; 
 while his first-rate skill on the flute, viohn, z' 
 and violoncello, and, indeed, his rapid and 
 self-directed progress in the art of painting 
 in oil-colours, (commencing in his fifty-ninth 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. V 
 
 year), justly add a varied brilliancy to his li- 
 terary name, and, at the same time, cause much 
 weight to be attached to all his Hterary deci- 
 sions. 
 
 Yet, as I have said, the impression is made 
 only partially ; it may be added, very partially ; 
 none but the immediate friends of Dr. Hum- 
 mum and Mr. Mahony being fully influenced by 
 it ; so that the great majority of the public voice 
 of Inismore is still with you, my dear Barnes ; 
 your humble turn of good fortune is still a sub- 
 ject of pleasure to your fellow-townsmen, and — 
 (heaven bless the dear, kind-hearted creatures), 
 townswomen, too, of different ranks ; and, it is 
 my pride to perceive that — (notwithstanding 
 certain o'erpast backslidings between the ages of 
 seventeen and two and twenty, of which the 
 least said, the soonest mended) — my brother, 
 Barnes O'Hara, has the lively good-wishes of 
 his native place. 
 
 Nor, after a moment's reflection, can Mr. 
 Mahony's shrewd hints, grounded on his notice 
 of your aerial chambers in the inn of court, weigh 
 against the pleasing assurances contained in 
 your last Christmas letter to your father and 
 mother — that thrice welcome Christmas letter ! 
 
VI INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 — We got it upon the eve of the great festival, 
 just when our uncertainties about you, caused 
 by what Mr. Mahony said, were at their height ; 
 and though father, mother, sister, and brothers 
 had each a private reading, there was no gene- 
 ral participation, until the dinner-cloth disap- 
 peared, the next joyous day. A chair had been 
 placed for you at your old side, opposite the 
 poor mother, and then, Barnes, your letter was 
 read by Richard; your mother listening as 
 though it was quite new to her ; sitting back in 
 her chair, with crossed hands, as happy as quiet 
 smiles and tears could make her ; Mary watch- 
 ing her face ; and your father often shifting his 
 position, looking askance at the fire, and taking 
 potent pinches of Lundy Foot's high-toast; 
 your letter w^as read ; then placed on the table 
 before your chair ; and then, the mother pro- 
 posed-—" Health and a blessing to Barnes, this 
 holy Christmas day ; and, to make friends. Dr. 
 Hummum's health, too, and Mr. Mahony's too, 
 and God forgive them both," — and we all chink- 
 ed our glasses in silence, our moist eyes laugh- 
 ing into each other as we carried the bumpers 
 to our hps. 
 
 So, God forgive Mr. Mahony and his friend 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. VU 
 
 Dr. Hummum, I say, also ; and now let me per- 
 form my task of adding my last comments, and 
 answering your last questions, upon the three 
 volumes herewith returned for publication. 
 
 You may rest assured of the propriety of my 
 Irish tornado, in the beginning of the first vo- 
 lume ; many of our old folk, here, remember 
 when such phenomena were not usual in Ire- 
 land ; but I have better authority for it, very 
 nearly on the ground where I use it, in '* The 
 History and Antiquities of Carrickfergus," &c. 
 &c. &€., published by my worthy friend, Mr. 
 Samuel M'Skimin, of that town, to whom, in- 
 deed, we stand indebted for other pleasing lo- 
 calities introduced, and who, in the honorable 
 primitiveness of the olden times, came to me, at 
 my little Carrickfergus Inn, his coat well dusted 
 with the flour of the mill of which he is an es- 
 teemed proprietor, and bearing in his hand the 
 valuable volume to which I have alluded. 
 
 Upon the manner in which one of our cha- 
 racters catches and tames a wild colt, you sus- 
 pect some question may also arise ; but, since I 
 am the chronicler of the amusing event, I can 
 only assure you, that, while I have excellent tra- 
 
vm INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 dition for attributing to that character the pos- 
 session, nearly two centuries ago, of such a gift, 
 an individual of our own time was greatly cele- 
 brated for it, as can be attested by credible wit- 
 nesses. No one is able, indeed, to tell me the na- 
 ture of this mysterious mastery over the race of 
 horses ; and, although it may be easily surmised, 
 if not explained, on simple principles, yet, with 
 a proper regard to historical truth, I leave it un- 
 explained, just as I got it. And what more can 
 you require at my hands ? 
 
 Some of the interest of the third volume turn- 
 ing upon a mistake, which (though with a very 
 different use made of it) is to be found in one of 
 the works of an illustrious story-teller, you fear 
 we may be accused of wilful imitation. But 
 Richard, whose doing all that is, stoutly an- 
 swers no ;— no more, he says, than that illustri- 
 ous story-teller can be charged with wilful imi- 
 tation of a play of Shakspeare, in which the 
 same mistake occurs, and which may as well be 
 said to have equally anticipated him. The 
 thing, he adds, is often repeated among the more 
 curious chances of this curious life ; we have, 
 ourselves, seen two instances of it ; and we may 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. IX 
 
 surely be permitted to draw from our own ob- 
 servations. This plea, notwithstanding its pro- 
 bable relevancy, I look upon as too vivaciously 
 urged, my dear Barnes ; you know Richard's 
 briskness, of old ; and I pray you to consider 
 the present specimen of it, and qualify it, at 
 least, with a little more modesty, or something 
 of the kind, ere you venture it at the aweful 
 bar, before which we are to plead. 
 
 But do not trouble your head on the matter 
 you last wrote to us about. Richard and I are 
 unanimous in giving you this advice. 
 
 You inform us, yourself, " that EngUshmen 
 of almost every party, who may honor our book 
 with a perusal, are now prepared to recognize 
 the truth of the historical portraits and events 
 we venture to sketch and allude to : that, since 
 some late publications, and particularly since 
 that of * The life of James II., king of Eng- 
 land, collected out of memoirs, writ of his own 
 hand,' edited ' from the authentic manuscripts,' 
 by the librarian at Carlton House, and publish- 
 ed under the auspices of his present gracious 
 Majesty, Englishmen have ceased to attribute 
 to the deposed monarch such civil tyranny, and 
 b 3 
 
X INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 such plotting against their religion, as his hos- 
 tile contemporaries found it politic to lay at his 
 door ; that, necessarily, if, on account of what 
 has been called the spirit of his sect, James did 
 not deserve all the hatred lavished on him by 
 their forefathers, neither should living English- 
 men continue to hate that sect for a spirit thus 
 wrongfully charged against it ; and lastly, that, 
 inasmuch as the least perfect parts of the British 
 constitution were not only allowed to remain by 
 James's successor, but other parts, perhaps 
 more objectionable, added to them. Englishmen 
 at present see, in the zeal of the adherents of 
 that successor, as much selfishness as patrio- 
 tism ; as much thirst of monopoly as thirst of 
 righteousness ; as much hunger for the loaves 
 and fishes, as for the bread of life ; as much in- 
 difference to freedom, when freedom could have 
 been secured, as emptiness in the clamour they 
 raised in her name ; in a word, as much cant as 
 truth ; as much real Jesuitism as the Jesuitism 
 they professed to oppose. And, for all such 
 reasons, and more that could be mentioned, you 
 infer, and we agree, " that Englishmen are 
 calmly disposed to encourage rather than to de- 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. XI 
 
 cry our humble attempt to submit, according to 
 the necessities imposed on us by our story, the 
 true characters and the true motives of some 
 actors on both sides, during the very remark- 
 able era we have ventured to select for a na- 
 tional tale." 
 
 " And if" (you continue) — " at the same time, 
 the contemporaneous events of Ireland can, in 
 truth and fairness, be so placed before British 
 readers, as to claim their respect for the native 
 energies of their island sister ; for her devotion 
 to her legitimate king, when he threw himself 
 upon her generosity; for her gallantry in the 
 field, even when the contest was, with some 
 impropriety, called national between her and 
 them ; if, from historical sources, exclusively 
 English, this can be shewn, in despite of the 
 cold ignorance of Smollett, and the paltry shy- 
 ness of the brogue, evinced by Goldsmith ; if it 
 can be shewn" — -(and we humbly hope it is so 
 shewn) " with a manly and dispassionate can- 
 dour," you further conclude that, instead of dis- 
 pleasing an Englishman, such a statement will 
 give pleasure to every genuine English breast 
 into which it may find its way. " For," (you 
 
XU INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 argue) — " one of the highest gratifications of 
 John Bull arises from a successful struggle with 
 a stout foe; and, when once the struggle is over, 
 he is much more inveterately disposed to make 
 a friend of that foe, yea, even for the sake of 
 some hard knocks, taken, as well as given, than 
 Jie could be to make a friend of another who 
 had shewn him no sport during the fight, and 
 yet, with whom circumstances should leave him 
 allied in an unequal and inglorious fellowship." 
 But while, from your opinion of Enghsh prin- 
 ciple and character, you thus venture, in more 
 hope than misgiving, before an English reader, 
 you entertain some dread of an Irish reader. 
 Now, Richard and I have been in Ireland all 
 the time you have been out of it ; of course 
 possess so much more observation of the coun- 
 try ; and we are bold to rally your heart on this 
 point, and in the name of God and Saint Pa- 
 trick, bid you fear nothing. Doubtless, while all 
 would fain recollect it, in Ireland, oftener than 
 you, at the other side of the Channel, no period 
 of our history, or of any history is, in Ireland, 
 so little understood, so little known, as that 
 which we have stumbled upon. No period is 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. XIU 
 
 SO much involved in traditionary gossip and po- 
 pular stories ; through the medium of popular 
 stories, almost exclusively, both sides are, in- 
 deed, best acquainted with it. 
 
 For instance. One side regards William as 
 a persecutor, which he was not ; as a Church- 
 of England champion, which he was not ; and 
 as a religious bigot, which he was not : the 
 other, as an amiable and chivalrous hero of ro- 
 mance, appointed, first to England, and next 
 to Ireland, especially for the purpose of rooting 
 out popery ; and very " pious," withal ; as a 
 church-of-England-man, in course ; because the 
 eulogy is pronounced by church-of-England 
 protestantSy and cannot consistently be supposed 
 to applaud the " piety" of a prince, differing 
 widely from their religion, and often heartily 
 disliking it. James, too — both agree in one 
 point concerning him ; namely, that he was a 
 coward, or something very like it; and then, his 
 hereditary haters call him tyrant, butcher, fa- 
 natic ; or, if that is not enough, his most vivid 
 identity, in their comprehensive minds, changes 
 into a brass sixpence, or a pair of wooden 
 shoes; while the descendants of those who 
 
XIV . INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 fought by his side, scarcely take the trouble of 
 denying one of the leading charges ; either be- 
 cause, in as much " contented ignorance" as 
 those that talk more, (on this one subject, at 
 least,) they have listened until repetition worries 
 them into assent, or because one of the leading 
 charges, if allowed to be true, seems to afford, 
 by throwing upon James's shoulders the blame 
 of occasional defeat, some unction for their 
 wounded vanity. And thus they go on, pro- 
 testant and catholic, 
 
 " both claiming truth, 
 
 And truth disclaiming both :" — 
 
 both receiving, at the hands of their old-women 
 chroniclers, portraits of the two kings, which no 
 historian authorizes ; of William, whose digres- 
 sive declaration, while taking his coronation 
 oath, proves, along with a hundred other mat- 
 ters, the common mistake about his religious 
 zeal; whose " amiability," heaven bless the 
 mark, even Burnet will better explain ; and of 
 James, whose early life, well known to have 
 been heroic, and whose authenticated memoirs, 
 just alluded to, supported by the context of 
 even his opponents, also dissipate many of the 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. XV 
 
 mutual delusions ; to say nothing of the follow- 
 ing character of him, penned by his great con- 
 temporary, John Dryden, " glorious John," 
 and in the midst, too, of circumstances that 
 made the eulogy dangerous to its writer : 
 
 tho' opposed with vulgar spite, 
 
 Yet dauntless, and secure* of native right, 
 
 Of every royal virtue stands possest. 
 
 Still dear to all the bravest and the best ; 
 
 His courage, foes — his friends his truth proclaim — 
 
 His loyalty the king, the world his fame : 
 
 His mercy even the offending crowd shall find." 
 
 Sir Walter Scott's Dryden, vol. ix. page 228. 
 
 I have glanced at some of the leading mis- 
 takes, on both sides, here ; less important ojies 
 are numerous. For the expression — " Spare 
 my Enghsh subjects !" — attributed, chiefly by 
 Irish catholics, to James, at the Boyne, there is 
 no worthy evidence ; and, against the supposed 
 good generalship of William, on the same 
 ground, even Smollett records a negative. In 
 Limerick, Catholics refer to the abortive trea- 
 chery of an officer called Luttrel, and not to 
 regular treaty, the eventual surrender of their 
 fortress ; in Derry, protestants invest themselves 
 * Too secure.— B. O'H, 
 
XVI INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 and George Walker, and not Kirke and his 
 English regiments, with their success against 
 James ; and then, Walker's equivocal character 
 changes into something like that of a demi-god, 
 just on the same principle that caused the exe- 
 crable colleague of Jeffries, after his relief of the 
 little town, to receive, at the hands of their fore- 
 fathers, all the homage that addresses and ban- 
 quettings could confer. — Again; throughout Ire- 
 land, catholics as well as protestants seem to be- 
 lieve that, excepting the resistance at Limerick, 
 first, the colonial protestant force, and next, the 
 powerful reinforcements sent over by William, 
 were uniformly successful against the native 
 levies ; and while, on this head, one party feels 
 a superfluous humiliation, the other is not slow 
 to appropriate an unclaimed degree of fame and 
 superiority. The descendants of the Ennis- 
 killeners, as, after a certain period, the northern 
 protestant volunteers were generally called, 
 flatly imagine that their forefathers never lost a 
 battle to the Irish ; and, upon this fancy, many 
 unsubstantial airs are assumed, and much goad- 
 ing taunt, if not contempt, apphed to their pas- 
 sive, because equally uninformed fellow-coun- 
 
IRTRODUCTORY LETTER. XVll 
 
 trymen ; upon this fancy, I say ; for, that it is a 
 fancy we are incidentally bound to shew, to, 
 perhaps, an astounding extent ; as we are simi- 
 larly and equally bound to record the unsa- 
 voury opinions of Schomberg concerning the 
 morals and demeanor of the Enniskilleners, al- 
 though such opinions may not serve to flatter 
 some other visionary notions entertained by 
 the persons who injudiciously, and, indeed, in- 
 correctly profess to found upon the doubtful 
 glory of that rude corps, all present claims to 
 superior caste and consideration. 
 
 These, though but a few instances of the 
 mistakes committed amongst us on the subject 
 of William's Irish wars, yet are sufficient for 
 the occasion, and, doubtless, leave us free to 
 ask — if facts be so misunderstood, what must 
 not be the misconceptions regarding the po- 
 licy of that memorable struggle? — regarding 
 the real motives on both sides ? When the 
 characters, the minds of men are totally mis- 
 apprehended, what clue can be had to their 
 views and feelings ? When their true con- 
 nexion with affairs, and their purposed opera- 
 tion on affairs, are not conceived, what inter- 
 
XVm INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 pretation but a false and silly one can be given 
 •to their actions? — In truth, the whole matter 
 is sadly rendered into ignorant gossip, and, 
 as before said, mere popular stories ; I freely 
 grant it. 
 
 Yes, Barnes, so much I freely grant, but 
 still grant nothing to your fears. If truth be 
 substituted for those popular stories, it will 
 claim as much belief, and, notwithstanding some 
 sacrifice from, perhaps, the pride and weakness 
 of human nature, more regard. Facts will 
 rout out delusions ; and, with them, all disposi- 
 tion to consider as friends those who have en- 
 deavoured, and who still endeavour to perpe- 
 tuate them, or to regard as enemies those who, 
 in the spirit and the love of truth, would humbly 
 but zealously seek to put them to flight for 
 ever. 
 
 We say, Barnes, Richard and I, that few, if 
 any of the descendants of Scotch and Enghsh 
 in Ireland, are disinclined to hold sentiments, as 
 good as the truth will permit, of the people 
 with whom fate has left them joined in country, 
 interests, and connexions. That which extend- 
 ed views and warm feelings could not effect 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. XIX 
 
 on this subject, has been effected by shrewd 
 common sense and social policy. I will assert, 
 that none now live, who for the wanton cherish- 
 ing, in self-deluding ignorance, of very ridicu- 
 lous prejudices, would persevere in any unge- 
 nerous style of sentiment and conduct towards 
 their fellow-countrymen. The generation ca- 
 pable of doing so has passed away. It has 
 passed away with (you will remember him) an- 
 cient " Bob Spittle," who, as we have heard 
 our grandfather tell, while the Roman Catholic 
 population of this little place passed, as was 
 their wont, from chapel to chapel, upon the 
 Thursday of the last week in Lent, the climax 
 of their great time of fast and abstinence, used 
 to sit at his door in the suburbs, cooking rashers 
 of bacon over a temporary fire, eating them, 
 hot and hot, out of the frying-pan, and, now 
 and then, holding forth on a fork, in bitter 
 pleasantry, a highly-browned slice to the scan- 
 dalized and horrified crowds, or banning them 
 and spitting at them, as they lifted up their 
 eyes, and quickened their pilgrim steps by his 
 unholy threshold. 
 
 We repeat it ; the English and Scotch blood 
 
XX INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 at present in Ireland, will not revolt at the sim- 
 ple truth. And even if, in accepting the simple 
 truth, it becomes necessary, not only to allow a 
 new feather to the caps of their more Irish fel- 
 low citizens, but to abstract that feather from 
 their proper plume, still I prophesy their wil- 
 lingness to do so. In the first instance, they 
 are not men to wear borrowed plumes ; in the 
 second, their own will be ample enough, after 
 the deduction ; in the third, their neighbour's 
 cap will look more respectable, and they know 
 that respectable neighbours always add to a 
 man's individual respectability. Besides, as I 
 have shewn, they are, by this time, cooled down 
 into more reflectiveness, and less inveteracy than 
 their former worthy representative. Bob Spittle ; 
 in fact, there is now nothing for inveteracy to feed 
 upon ; there is no battle to be fought for politi- 
 cal predominance ; the old hope (with which I 
 am far, very far from charging them) of univer- 
 sal proselytism or extermination, no longer 
 seems rational, or capable of being entertained; 
 identity with the millions around them, and, by 
 that means, identity with the greatness and 
 wealth of England, is now the laudable ambi- 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. %Xl 
 
 tion of— (to use a phrase occasionally applied 
 to them by the middling classes of Irish catho- 
 lics) — every " honest protestant ;" in a word, 
 they feel, that, to become any thing, they must 
 become Irishmen ; as Irishmen, respectable ; 
 respectable by the general character of the 
 country ; by the character of those that stand 
 by their side, as well as by their own ; and thus 
 it is naturally their policy to do justice to that 
 character ; to restore to it its full and real preten- 
 sions, even though they be called on to yield up 
 to the common stock some of their own distinct 
 pretensions ; and again, they cannot be angry 
 with any person who would help them to com- 
 plete such an arrangement. 
 
 You must not forget, either, of what men the 
 protestants of Ireland are the descendants : of 
 the men who framed the petition of right ; who 
 fought and bled at Naseby and Marston Moor; 
 or else who stood out, in the wildernesses of 
 Scotland, for liberty of conscience, and a na- 
 tional religion. Be assured that the descend- 
 ants of such men too highly estimate such a 
 struggle, not to admit, to the fullest extent that 
 can be shown, the claims of others to zeal and 
 
XXU INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 bravery, in a similar one ; and sectarian differ- 
 ence, or a conviction of their fellow-countrymen 
 having been in error, will here have no influ- 
 ence ; the principle of the thing is too powerful. 
 They are ready to admit and respect in others, 
 what, after all, most ennobles their own name 
 and recollections. And name, good name, at 
 least, they do not wish to monopolize. Inhe- 
 riting it, as they do, that very inheritance makes 
 them worthy of it— transmitted virtue begets 
 virtue ; and being worthy of it, that worth con- 
 fers the noble wish to respect it, even in an arm- 
 ed enemy, not to speak of those who are no 
 longer enemies, but, to all intents and purposes, 
 fellow-countrymen : — for, if they be not fellow- 
 countrymen, what term shall express the rela- 
 tion of the two parties ? I know one that might, 
 but I dislike to use it. 
 
 Let them have truth, I say, for popular sto- 
 ries, facts for delusions, and they will make a 
 change, even with a sacrifice, for the sake of 
 the result. Pride, policy, good feeling, self-re- 
 spect, urge them to do so. It will give them 
 added spirit and useful hopes to find themselves 
 engaged, hand in hand,, with the great majority 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. XXIU 
 
 of their brother Irishmen, at last restored to 
 their consideration and esteem, and worthy, 
 along with them, to speed the grand task of 
 identifying Ireland and England, and thus ad- 
 vancing their common country to a place which 
 she has hitherto missed, because she was divid- 
 ed, while she was divided, chiefly because she 
 believed in delusions. They know that the mo- 
 ther countries of England and Scotland never 
 became truly great or prosperous, until, in their 
 domestic characters, they came forward in a 
 moral, instead of a physical attitude ; and by all 
 means, and by the means in question, along \vith 
 others, they will try to place Ireland in a similar 
 one. They will try to do so for one parti- 
 cular reason, if for no other — to give themselves 
 a country. At present they have none. While 
 all other children of their fathers boa*st a proud 
 identity with the native lands they bled or died 
 to make more free and happy ; while they can 
 call themselves Englishmen or Scotsmen, and 
 getting their foot on a hill side of the High- 
 lands, or on the rich sward of England, cry, 
 *' This is my native land !" their detached and 
 forgotten brethren among the bogs or fastnesses 
 
XXIV INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 of another country, having lost the right to as- 
 sert this claim to the land of their forefathers, 
 scarce yet entitle themselves to assert it to the 
 land of their adoption. Hitherto, they have 
 stood aloof from the people of Ireland ; from 
 Irishmen,, in fact ; so that while they cease to 
 be Englishmen or Scotsmen, they are not Irish- 
 men : and thus, so far as regards national name, 
 or the consideration conferred by belonging to a 
 country, they are, in fact, nothing. ^ They are 
 unknovrn to the world ; and, even by their con- 
 nexions in other lands, unrecognized as a peo- 
 ple. But, if the spirit of their fathers stir within 
 them, they will not long remain without a coun- 
 try ; they will soon be a people. As a consoli- 
 dated part of the native people by whom they 
 are surrounded, they will soon permit them- 
 selves to say — " We, too, are Irishmen !" — and 
 of the teeming soil that gives them life and 
 independence, and that no longer must have 
 vainly given them birth — " Ireland is our native 
 land." The memory of their ancestors cries out 
 to them no longer to slander the character of 
 their adopted country, if, by so doing, they 
 hinder themselves from respecting her ; from 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 CHAPTER I, 
 
 It was in the summer of 1685, that a party of 
 travellers, suggesting, in the group, some re- 
 markable contrast, held their way from Belfast 
 to the more northern and ancient fortress of 
 Carrickfergus. 
 
 First came on a jennet and steed, of the 
 best kind the country afforded, a maiden and a 
 youthful cavaUer, well clad, well favoured, and 
 exhibiting in their air that certain, though in- 
 definable something which proclaims the habits 
 and feelings, if not the birth and lineage of 
 gentle maidens and gallant cavaliers. The dam- 
 sel, in her tight, grass-green, long-waisted jer- 
 kin, laced and fringed with silver ; in her am- 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
^ THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 pie cloth riding-skirt, of a graver colour, show- 
 ing, through certain openings, glimpses of a rich 
 silk under-dress ; in her low-crowned, broad- 
 leafed, riding-hat, flapped down, to be secured 
 under the chin ; and, above all, in the very 
 delicate, if not very beautiful face beneath it, 
 shaded by loose tresses of a pale gold-colour ; 
 she, in particular, asserted, at a glance, her pre- 
 tensions to gentle rank; and, if her marbly 
 cheek and melancholy brow did not well be- 
 come a sylph-like girl of sixteen, perhaps they 
 touched the bosom of a beholder with more in- 
 terest than could the burst of a sunny face, and 
 a laughter-loving glance. 
 
 He who rode at her side, and, with an air of 
 brotherly and affectionate protection, occasion- 
 ally touched her rein, was not so prepossessing 
 in visage or figure, though he was almost as 
 young as his sweet charge. His features were, 
 perhaps, too rigidly marked, though by no means 
 of a common cast ; and seriousness, without pen- 
 siveness, seemed, at all events now that he re- 
 mained unexcited, their predominant character. 
 But his figure, though even in boyhood, more 
 square and manly than round or graceful, had 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. O 
 
 an expression of gallant hardihood that recom- 
 mended him to notice, and seemed particularly 
 to fit the brother and protector of a girl so de- 
 licate and drooping as she who rode beside 
 him ; and this impression was well sustained by 
 the brave dress he wore ; by his fawn-coloured 
 cavalier hat, looped up obliquely in front, and 
 adorned with a long feather ; by his close-but- 
 toned green surcoat, moderately slashed in the 
 upper-sleeve, and sufficiently short to shew the 
 knees tightly fitted by hose ; while a graceful 
 full-topped half-boot fell mid-way down the leg, 
 and a riding-cloak, hung off one shoulder, flow- 
 ed over the saddle, or fluttered in the light 
 breeze. 
 
 Some distance behind this youthful pair, on 
 a peaceably-shaped animal of that class, which 
 one would assign to parish-clergymen of all 
 sects who do not hunt, followed a very short, 
 round, elderly man, with legs, which, though 
 not crippled by stirrup-leathers unusually scan- 
 ty, reached scarce more than half way down 
 the sides of the beast he bestrode. And those 
 legs looked still shorter, on account of the de- 
 scent upon them of the over-abundant skirts 
 B 2 
 
4" THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 of the good old-fashioned EngHsh coat, which, 
 ere Charles I. imported the costume, at least, 
 of the court, whose infanta he failed to charm 
 away, was popular in tlie sister-country ; and, 
 again, their full proportion was interrupted 
 by the ancient square-toed, high-heeled, high- 
 mouthed shoes, worn by the horseman, some- 
 thing of the cut of the Blucher boots of our 
 day ; so that, altogether, not more than a few 
 inches of leg were visible, covered by clocked 
 sky-blue woollen stockings. A full tie wig, top- 
 ped by that curious shaped, broad-brimmed, 
 pan-crowned hat, which one cannot call round, 
 square, or angular, completed the costume of 
 this remarkable person ; and while his little 
 paunch-'—little in comparison with paunches, but 
 huge in comparison with his own proportions — • 
 rested on the brazen-nosed pummel of his pad, 
 there appeared, in the oozing of his vacant 
 purply face, in the distension and rolling of his 
 grey eyes, in the hard compression of his lips, 
 and in his desperate gras})ing of the bridle, in- 
 dications of a mind not well at ease, and as if it 
 were to him a task of some difficulty, and much 
 bodily torture, to svistain, decently, the character 
 of a cavalier. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. O 
 
 By his side, on a steed, also of very grave 
 conformation and habits, rode a man, his senior 
 in years, and his contrary in person, being tall, 
 gaunt, and spare in the limbs ; with, behind 
 him, on a pillion, a second female, quite as tall, 
 though of a bulk promising, if fairly divided, to 
 make three of such as he; the profusion of 
 cloth in which, down to the toes, she was enve- 
 loped, serving to give even an exaggerated no- 
 tion of her colossal figure. 
 
 From the vulgar hardness of his sharp fea- 
 tures, as well as from his antique coat of livery, 
 buttoned but too closely, as far down as the 
 hips — (while thence it spread into voluminous 
 skirts) over his greyhound kind of body, this 
 good lady's conductor might, although his great 
 trooper's boots and roundhead hat insinuated 
 a foregone military character, be easily recog- 
 nised as an attendant ; and the Amazonian lady 
 herself might as easily pass for a considerable 
 personage — at least, in lier own estimation. The 
 impression was not, indeed, conveyed by dig- 
 nity of deportment, or even the affectation of 
 it, but rather by a solemn, fussy, expression of 
 countenance, that generally belongs to good 
 
6 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 dames, who talk and do a great deal in circles 
 which are bound to admit their preponderance, 
 and who, assisted by worldly as well as natural 
 requisites, have a talent, without positive vocife- 
 ration, of ruling their humble friends, and some- 
 times their husbands. Behind the whole party, 
 followed a bare-legged peasant-boy, leading a 
 sorrowful donkey, across whose back hung two 
 large, well-laden hampers. 
 
 The travellers had left behind the curious 
 Cave-hill, that almost overhangs Belfast, and 
 gained a view of Carrickfergus, with its ancient 
 and well fortified castle, standing out in the bay, 
 on a nearly insulated rock — an object by no 
 means deficient in importance or picturesque 
 interest, and sympathising so well, in rudeness 
 and largeness of parts, with the primitive pile 
 on which it was based, that, when thus beheld 
 at a distance, both masses seemed one. For 
 some time all had been silent ; except that, now 
 and then, any increased motion of his steed 
 called from the little round man an involuntary 
 groan, immediately after which he might be 
 seen, turning, as quickly as he could, his head 
 over his shoulder, to observe whether or no the 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 7 
 
 dame on the pillion took notice of his ejacula- 
 tion ; and if, as was indeed the case, during all 
 such accidents, he found her head also turned, 
 and her eyes fastened, half in amaze, half in 
 severity upon him, he never failed, after ano- 
 ther twitch of feature, to look on straight before 
 him, with a face as composed and unconscious 
 as he could well assume. But, except these in- 
 terruptions, silence reigned among the party, 
 until they had gained the first unobstructed 
 view of Carrickfergus. 
 
 Then, however, the two young persons in 
 front found words to express their sentiments 
 on the interesting picture ; and, that topic ex- 
 hausted, continued to converse together. It 
 appeared from their discourse, that they were 
 orphan brother and sister ; that the elderly lit- 
 tle man, behind them, was their uncle and guar- 
 dian, and the gigantic lady his spouse ; and, in 
 remark upon a new piece of information with 
 which her brother supplied her, the maiden pro- 
 ceeded to task — " Our guardian's dame is of 
 London city, then ?" When a shrill exclamation 
 of " Paul, Paul !" from the lady herself, in con- 
 sequence of an unusually loud groan from him 
 who, nominally at least, was her lord and bus- 
 
8 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 band, interrupted the brother's answer ; and, 
 had Esther Evelyn been skilled in accents, might 
 have fully proclaimed to her the genuine city 
 derivation of her aunt-in-law. 
 
 Both turned their horses' heads to the rear ; 
 and " Paul, Paul !" the dame continued — 
 " What 's to do with thee, now, sweetheart ?" 
 
 " Nought, coney,'' replied Paul, in such im- 
 perfect delivery as denoted the almost total ab- 
 sence of teeth, " nought, truly ; only my beast 
 stumbled." 
 
 " And let him stumble," Mrs. Evelyn went 
 on, steadily, " over every stock and stone on this 
 wild road, could'st not hold thy hand tight on 
 the rein, and the breath tight in thy body, and 
 not fright folk with such a holloring ?" 
 
 " I but feared he might fall, outright, Janet, 
 and it seemeth to me," venturing a glance down- 
 ward, *^ I am at such a height above the road, 
 that it might have done me an injury, forsooth." 
 
 " Tut, no, sweetheart," she said affection- 
 ately ; *' thanks to a good wife's care, thy bones 
 are so well wrapped up, it would have done no 
 more hurt to thee than to a bale of broad- 
 cloth." 
 
 He made no answer, contenting himself with 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 9 
 
 keeping up a decent composure of face, not- 
 withstanding the refined torture conferred by 
 every step, even the gentlest, of his steed. The 
 daiiie continued : 
 
 " Tho' much, doubtless, is the peril of jour- 
 neying over such roads, in such a country, and 
 on beasts such, only, as it can afford us." 
 
 " They're jest too good fur hur likes ;" said 
 one of the few native peasants of tlie district, 
 who was passing, and heard the observation. 
 
 " There," remarked Mrs. Evelyn, using gross 
 language, no doubt, yet the common language 
 of her day, even in parliament ; " there goes a 
 murdering and damnable papist." 
 
 " An' there hur sits, a heretic jade, wid the 
 fire ready kindled an' roarin fur hur," retorted 
 the man, also using the charitable expressions 
 in vogue amongst the vulgar and bigotted of 
 his persuasion ; at the same time he turned up 
 a wild bridle-road, and left tliem. 
 
 " Ah," resumed Mrs. Evelyn, coolly, in a set 
 speech, the conclusion of which she had learned 
 from public manifestoes, and, for many years 
 had been in the habit of rehearsing ; ** never 
 can the land have roads or ways, men or beasts, 
 B 3 
 
10 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 as it should have them, until popery and slavery 
 be rooted out, with all Jesuits, plotters, and 
 suspected persons." 
 
 " Never," said her attendant, who rode be- 
 fore her, also indulging in some favorite allu- 
 sions, as his sentiments imparted to his long and 
 wrinkled face its harshest expression ; " never, 
 till the auld forty-one comes round again ; whilk 
 time, as an humble doer for the Lord, forbye a 
 corporal muckle in favour wi' that zealous man, 
 tho' an Erastian, Charles Coote, I returned to 
 the papists and malignants, hilt-deep, the sword 
 they had unsheathed amang the Lord's people." 
 
 " The papists," Mrs. Evelyn went on, not at 
 all indulging in common place, " who plotted 
 their damnable plot to poison the king, murder 
 us, and make us subjects of antichrist, the 
 pope ; who ran thro' the body, with his own 
 sword, that good magistrate, Godfrey, at Prim- 
 rose-hill ; and who burned down the city, till 
 the flames stopped at London Bridge, as may 
 be seen on the Monument to this day ;" and 
 the lady spoke truly, not only of her own day, 
 by the way, but of ours ; for there, indeed — a 
 century at least after all men who can read or 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 11 
 
 think have lauglied at the mistatement, there 
 it remains graven in stone, to be spelt over by 
 the mere ignorance and folly of the land, and 
 perpetuated on minds as hard as the stone itself. 
 
 Young Evelyn had not been indifferent to 
 the conversation here noticed, and with a tone 
 he might properly assume to an old attendant 
 of his father, though, in reality, he intended the 
 remonstrance for his aunt-in-law, now said, — 
 
 " Oliver, it were wiser, more seemly, and 
 more christian, that you forbore such observa- 
 tions ; the times are altered ; and altered, I 
 hope, for the better, since they afford oppor- 
 tunity to men of all parties to hold out to each 
 other the hand of brotherhood. A popish so- 
 vereign now fills the throne of these realms ; 
 he has ascended that seat of his fathers in 
 peace ; and in welcome, too, from persons of 
 every persuasion — " 
 
 " From backsliders, papists, and mahgnants — " 
 " From plotters, papists, and Jesuits — " inter- 
 rupted Oliver and Mrs. Evelyn, in a breath. 
 
 ** We owe hhn our allegiance ;" young Eve- 
 lyn went on ; " with it our honor and respect ; 
 and it cannot be respectful, — no, nor lawful, to 
 
I^ THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 insult with our speech the religion our sove- 
 reign chooses, and is permitted to profess." 
 
 " Doubtless, no," said uncle Paul, anxious 
 for peace. 
 
 " What, Paul!— what say'st thou?" exclaimed 
 his consort ; and Paul winced more than if his 
 fat horse liad — which it could not do — bounded 
 under him;—" honor and respect for that which 
 is damnable and idolatrous, plotting and mur- 
 derous, poisoning, burning, and Jesuitical, — 
 say'st thou, man ?" 
 
 " No such thing do I say," replied the hus- 
 band. 
 
 " He wha touches pitch is defiled thereby," 
 said Oliver, *' and he wha denies the Lord will, 
 in his day, be denied by him ; — wherefore, anent 
 yon man James, whom malignants and papists, 
 Erastians and prelatists call king — " 
 
 " What mean'st thou by prelacy, fellow ?" 
 interrupted Mrs. Evelyn ; " what mean'st thou 
 by joining that with papists and Jesuits, plo — " 
 
 " And," continued Oliver, raising his voice, 
 and in his turn interrupting, as the better way 
 to get out of the mistake he soon saw he had 
 committed ; " and whom they go forth to pro- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 13 
 
 claim with the sounding of brazen trumpets, 
 and the tinkling of timbrels, and with a loud 
 voice thro' the city, and a cry among the peo- 
 ple, saying — " 
 
 " Good fellow," here interposed a stranger, 
 wearing a close black cap and a full riding- 
 cloak ; the voice sounded just at Oliver's ear, 
 and startled him, although the speaker had for 
 some time accompanied the party unperceived ; 
 ** Good fellow, if you do not hold your neck to 
 be too straight, or, at the least, your back to 
 require a clawing, best keep silence so near yon 
 loyal town." The travellers had, indeed, now 
 approached very near to Carrickfergus. 
 
 " What have I said, that I should keep si- 
 lent ?" asked Oliver, wrathfully, and still half 
 nervous. 
 
 " Treason," replied the other ; " if 'twere 
 worth the telling." 
 
 " Truth," retorted Oliver, "and the words of 
 truth. Perad venture you be, yourself, of the 
 children of abomination, the sons of darkness 
 and of Belial ; but even to thee will I testify 
 against this breaking into the fold, this slumber- 
 ing and backsliding of the shepherds — " 
 
14 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " This introducing of popery and slavery ;" 
 echoed Mrs. Evelyn." 
 
 " Silence, Oliver !" cried her nephew-in-law. 
 
 " Fools !" — exclaimed the stranger, in a tone 
 as intemperate as that used by those he ad- 
 dressed — " fools, as well as blasphemers and 
 heretics — " 
 
 " Heretics !" said Oliver, stopping his horse 
 to confront his new companion ; " whom call 
 you by that name, brother V 
 
 " You, and all like you, who have departed 
 from the bosom of holy church, to set up the 
 false lights of your own w^eak judgment, and 
 bow down before them in presumptuous self- 
 worship !" 
 
 " You, and all like you," rejoined Oliver, 
 " whether papists or prelatists." 
 
 " Sirrah !" — exclaimed his burden, turning 
 fiercely on her conductor ; " again I ask what 
 would'st thou by that word ?" 
 
 " Even those," he replied, forgetting, in ex- 
 treme zeal, his former caution ; " wha, against 
 the voice of the covenant, give ear to the words 
 of men in sleeves of lawn and long garments, 
 sic as are called bishops and archbishops, deans. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 15 
 
 deacons, and rectors; poor remnants of the 
 tricks of Satan, and the deceptions of the scar- 
 let " 
 
 " Beshrew thy knave's heart ! thou art worse 
 than a papist, thyself!" said Mrs. Evelyn, "none 
 but such could hold such language of the pure 
 reformed religion." 
 
 " No !" cried the stranger, " alas, he is no 
 more of the true holy faith than thou, thyself, 
 unhappy woman ! — I know you, now, old Noll ; 
 you were yon, at the Gobbins heughs, in the 
 forty-one ;" alluding to the massacre of Roman 
 catholics, differently accounted for, which took 
 place in Island Magee during the dreadful year 
 of 1641, or 1642. 
 
 " I return thanks to the Lord, I was," said 
 Oliver, " wi' mickle sorrow that on that good 
 night you stood not before me ; for now I no 
 longer doubt you ; you are a professed papist." 
 
 *' I am an unworthy son of holy church," an- 
 swered the stranger, devoutly crossing himself; 
 " and now, of the triumphant church, too — 
 hark to that ! Long live king James !" he con- 
 tinued, as a shout, that he seemed apt at inter- 
 preting, reached them, through a gate of the 
 
16 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 town, from the far end of a street, the suburb 
 extremity of which they were just entering; 
 and at the same time, the speaker letting go the 
 folds of his cloak, which he had hitherto kept 
 closely grasped, displayed the habit of a Roman 
 catholic ecclesiastic of the regular order. 
 " A travelling friar !" exclaimed Oliver. 
 . ** A Jesuit ! a Jesuit !" screamed Mrs. Evelyn. 
 ** And now I know you, too," resumed the 
 old trooper, " your name is O'Haggerty ; a fire- 
 brand amang the people ; a sore affliction to 
 the covenant ; and weel disposed to do scaith 
 on my head for the words I have spoken ; do 
 thy best — I defy thee." 
 
 " Heretical idiot !" said the young friar, for 
 young he was, and of a tall, robust person and 
 rather coarse features, '' for the sake of the 
 well-intentioned youth, who is thy master, and 
 whose remonstrance with thee I have heard ; 
 and also for the sake of yon sweet and delicate 
 young lady, whose health and spirits do not 
 seem well to brook such wrangling ; for their 
 sakes I will spare you ; your ancient companion 
 I spare for her own sake ; this is a day of tri- 
 umph, not of struggle ; attend to what is now 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 17 
 
 to be acted, and suffer in spirit all I could wish 
 to inflict :" at these words, the ecclesiastic gave 
 spurs to his horse, and was soon lost in the 
 crowd that, amid a great din of shouting, ac- 
 companied by the squeak of a cracked trumpet, 
 and the rub-a-dub of an old kettle-drum, on 
 which a. fresh sheep-skin had just been badly 
 strained for the occasion, advanced towards the 
 travellers. 
 
 Our party were obliged to draw up inside the 
 rude gate of the town, which they had just en- 
 tered, in order to give place to the throng, that 
 almost immediately halted about the spot. Thus, 
 however, they were afforded opportunity to ob- 
 serve what was going forward. In the centre 
 of the concourse Evelyn could recognise the 
 mayor of the town, attended by the recorder, 
 sheriffs, aldermen, burghesses, and the other 
 corporate and official persons, all in their " for- 
 malities," and on horseback. Before them was 
 the town-clerk, accompanied by the trumpeter, 
 as crazy as his instrument, and the drummer, as 
 wrinkled as his sheep-skin ; and after a pause, 
 this important officer crying silence, proceeded 
 to read, in a loud voice, and with vile pronuncia- 
 
18 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 tion, made up of two parts of Scotch, and one 
 of Irish brogue, a paper that proclaimed James 
 the Second, king. All had stood uncovered 
 during his oration ; and at the end, the mayor, 
 recorder , &c. joined in his ^' God save King 
 James !" waving their cocked hats, their wands, 
 and other badges of office ; whilst, at the same 
 time, the ever-willing crowd threw up their 
 greasy caps, and contributed three separate 
 shouts. 
 
 Evelyn looked attentively to try if he could 
 discover in the faces of the officials, or of the 
 crowd, much hidden opinion at variance with 
 this outward manifestation of joy ; but among 
 the former his physiognomonic skill did not 
 enable him to detect any contradiction; and 
 even the crowd, though in that northern town, 
 chiefly protestants of one sect or other, seemed 
 generally sincere and gratified. On their out- 
 skirts, indeed, might be observed more than 
 one inferior group of old and young, male and 
 female, individuals after the hearts of Noll and 
 Mrs. Evelyn, who joined but faintly, or not at 
 all, in the common shout, their heads turned, 
 and their eyes fixed scoffingly on the corporate 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 19 
 
 officers, or as scoffingly and more expressively 
 on each other; but such variations from the 
 prevalent feeling Evelyn did not fail to set down 
 as the exceptions that attend every general 
 rule, and most particularly every general rule 
 in religious politics. He omitted, indeed, to 
 consider them as the unnoticed sparks that, 
 after a half-consumed city is supposed to be 
 safe from further harm, still live in the midst 
 of security, awaiting but the breath of a fresh 
 wind, or merely the progress of their own igni- 
 tion, to burst forth in treble vigour. 
 
 But, so far as his calculations at present went, 
 Evdyn was correct. Since the monstrous ex- 
 cesses committed on both sides in the year 1641, 
 and afterwards on one side only, by the ruthless 
 Cromwell, Ireland had, down to the moment 
 we speak of, enjoyed more peace, or at all events, 
 rest, than could be recollected in her previous 
 history, from the time of Henry II. The efforts 
 to set aside Cromwell's settlement, gave indeed 
 a shght ruffle to the national tranquillity ; but 
 when that great question became decided, and 
 that the disappointed catholics were content to 
 bear in silence the bitterness of a decision so 
 arbitrary as from the son of Charles I. they 
 
20 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER, 
 
 saw little reason to expect, all parties then re- 
 lapsed into quietness, and seemed willing to to- 
 lerate, if not esteem each other. In aid of this 
 sentiment now came the lively declarations of 
 intended impartiality and protection made by 
 the new king to his privy council, on behalf of 
 his protestant subjects ; and the good hopes of 
 a happy reign derived therefrom by all sects in 
 the mother country, and the sincere expressions 
 of loyalty and attachment consequently ma- 
 nifested in addresses from each, could not fail 
 to command a correspondent feeling through- 
 out Ireland. Men were tired, too, of a mere 
 religious struggle, principally, perhaps, on ac- 
 count of the hopelessness, at any side, and after 
 considerable efforts on all sides, of religious ex- 
 termination ; since they could trust their prince, 
 they seemed indifferent to his worshipping God 
 after his own fancy ; and thus the mixed crowd, 
 that, in a small town in the north of Ireland, 
 shouted up James the second, might be heard 
 re-echoing the watch-word of security which 
 then ran through all the British realms — " We 
 have the word of a prince — a pledge never 
 broken — Long live King James !" 
 
 Yet were there non-contents; and amongst 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 21 
 
 them none more consistent than Ohver and 
 Mrs. Evelyn ; and, so long as he remained under 
 her jurisdiction, Paul, her spouse. As the 
 party stood looking on, Evelyn waved his hat 
 and cheered ; but his aunt-in-law scowled at 
 the town-clerk, and once, when in some evident 
 return of displeasure he met her eye, she shook 
 her head and hand at him, uttering words 
 that it was perhaps well for her the noise of ac- 
 clamation completely drowned. Oliver too, 
 though contentincr himself with severe silence, 
 remained covered, till a person passing on horse- 
 back, twitched oiF his hat anfel cried, " Shout, 
 roundhead, shout !" 
 
 " There's na muckle treason in a guarded 
 mouth,"' replied the old covenanter, coolly tak- 
 ing his hat from some benevolent person who 
 had stooped to pick it up. 
 
 " Look on, and you shall soon know," re- 
 sumed the voice of the young friar, now recog- 
 nizable ; and he again turned off to join the 
 2rowd. 
 
 The corporate procession had begun to re- 
 urn down the street, in progress to some other 
 'stablished place from which to make its pro- 
 
%% THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 clamation, when a portion of the people whom 
 the friar joined and spoke to for a moment, se- 
 parated from the rest, and hoisting an indivi- 
 dual astride on a pole, advanced with him, borne 
 on their shoulders towards the travellers. 
 
 " That 's ridin the stang" observed the ur- 
 chin who had in charge the donkey and ham- 
 pers. 
 
 " And what means it ?" inquired Evelyn. 
 
 We answer for the boy by informing the 
 reader, first, that the phrase translated hito 
 English, meant riding upon a sting, as we pre- 
 sume the galling seat of the rider might justly 
 be called ; second, that it was a local popular 
 punishment inflicted by proxy for such offences 
 as were not cognizable at common law. Some 
 low fellow, representing the offender, was mount- 
 ed, as in the instance to be noticed, upon a pole, 
 and thus making avowals, in the name of the 
 real aggressor, of his adopted guilt, was carried 
 about the streets, until at last he reached the 
 house of the delinquent, where he proclaimed 
 anew the misdemeanor w^hich had given offence, 
 and then with loud shouts the ceremonial ended. 
 
 " An its ridin' the stang," continued the 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 2S 
 
 donkey's guardian, " only yon thief isn't the true 
 one," and he looked up significantly at Oliver. 
 
 The minor crowd approached with their bur- 
 den, a very nasty, ill-looking fellow ; and ere our 
 travellers could follow down the street, the main 
 body of people, they were again surrounded. 
 
 " Wha are you ? wha are you ?" cried many 
 voices to him on the pole, as they halted him 
 before the party. 
 
 " Wha am I but auld Noll, that was a militia 
 trooper in the forty-one ?" he answered. 
 
 " TUou liest, even as the prince of lies, wha 
 is thy father," said Oliver, calmly scowling at 
 his ragged representative. The crowd took no 
 notice, but continued, " Make full and penitent 
 proclamation of the guilt whilk gars you ride 
 the stang !" 
 
 *' And what for no, since I hae gotten the 
 grace to repent me ? I just ride the stang anent 
 yon time, when I would na doff my bonnet for 
 good king Jamie, foul fa' me for a graceless 
 loon that did na better mind it !" 
 
 " And do ye mind it noo ? and wha is king 
 noo ?" 
 
 " King Jamie the Second is kipg, and I, Noll 
 
24 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 Whittle, of the forty-one, I mind it weel — huzza 
 for king Jamie !" 
 
 " Huzza, huzza, huzza !" echoed the crowd, 
 as, releasing their substitute criminal, they fol- 
 lowed rapidly, and with loud peals of laughter, 
 the main concourse, Oliver just commanding as 
 much prudence as made him feel that it might 
 be inconvenient to suffer himself to be provoked 
 into overt words of disloyalty. But not so Mrs. 
 Evelyn, who, despite the mortal fears of her 
 husband (in suspicion that a trot over the pav- 
 ing-stones, on the stang, would be more incon- 
 venient even than the paces of his steed), and 
 the earnest expostulations of her husband's ne- 
 phew, continued to vent her zeal and wrath as 
 the party moved down the street, in quest of a 
 house of entertainment. 
 
 " Cross me not, nephew," she said, as they 
 passed by the pier, or quay wall, and rather 
 near to it, '' a woman, at least, can use her 
 tongue." 
 
 " Troth can she," said the bare-legged at- 
 tendant, coming back from a group of people 
 whom he had interrogated as to the meaning of 
 a second approaching clamour, ** Troth can she. 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. XXV 
 
 esteeming her ; from growing truly great with 
 her and by her; if, by so doing, they remain 
 but as strangers, and, numerically at least, as in- 
 significant and obscure colonists on her bosom. 
 And so, Barnes, still I cry — aid them to cor- 
 rect their misconceptions ; through these, their 
 mistatements ; through these, their feelings ; 
 through these, their national position ; and fear 
 not their displeasure for the intended service. 
 
 At all events, we have nothing to fear, even 
 from displeasure. We come forward, on this 
 occasion, with clean breasts. Perhaps we may 
 not exactly fit the knuckle of any side; but 
 that we cannot help, while we fit our humble 
 efforts to our own consciences. This, you will 
 say, is valiant, for me ; Richard says it is. 
 Probably I do wax valiant when I know that 
 every statement of facts, or allusion to them, 
 which we are compelled incidentally to put 
 forward, is authorized by historians, whom both 
 sides are bound to admit; and that nothing can 
 be objected to us which must not also be ob- 
 jected to Dalrymple, or Harris, or Burnet, or 
 Hume, or Smollett, or James's memoirs, or Wal- 
 ker's Diary of the siege of Derry, with many 
 
 VOL. r. c 
 
XXVI INTRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 other general and local histories ; not omitting, 
 in support of certain sentiments naturally ex- 
 pressed by certain of our characters, the bundle 
 of old tracts that you say is to be found in the 
 British Museum, of which one, in particular, ex- 
 hibits the following ample title-page : — " Great 
 Britain's just complaint for her late measures, 
 present sufferings, and the future miseries she is 
 exposed to. With the best, safest, and most 
 effectual way of securing religion, liberty, and 
 property, upon good and lasting foundations, 
 fully and clearly discovered, in answer to two 
 late pamphlets concerning the pretended French 
 invasion." Printed m.d.c.vii. By Story alone, 
 of all historians or essayists of that period, w^e 
 will not be judged, because, as chaplain to Wil- 
 liam, he is scarcely an admissible evidence, in 
 as much as he can scarcely have been an impar- 
 tial one ; although I know nothing in him that 
 we need shrink from. I wish William, himself, 
 " wrote a book." 
 
 When our historical people speak on histori- 
 cal points, we have given them, as often as pos- 
 sible, the words that history puts into their 
 mouths ; and never one word which, in our opi- 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTER. XXVll 
 
 nioiij is not authorized by their characters, sen- 
 timents, or actions. In the latter instance, they 
 may be found to utter thoughts and feeUngs too 
 vivid for some, who, at one side or the other, 
 love not them, nor their thoughts or feelings ; 
 but we hope we may plead that a dramatist, 
 while trying to give natural speech to his cha- 
 racters, is not accountable for all they choose to 
 say. 
 
 Fools and knaves, found disguised amid the 
 musty fanaticism of nearly two centuries ago, 
 we have unhesitatingly restored to their true 
 shapes and features, without much fear of of- 
 fending any sect to which they pretended to 
 belong ; still we are accountable for our right to 
 take such little freedoms with the dead and 
 gone. 
 
 And now get the three unwieldy volumes print- 
 ed as fast as our respected northern fellow-coun- 
 tryman, Mr. J. M'Creery, can manage it ; with 
 my blessing ; and with my request, too, that con- 
 cerning the point upon which I have been so 
 loquacious, you will give yourself no further 
 trouble. Other parts give me more uneasiness ; 
 but no matter, now; let them pass to their 
 
XXVm II^TRODUCTORY LETTER. 
 
 great account — God help us three ! Richard, 
 you, and I ; I have gone near to frighten myself 
 with that random expression ; it creates a very 
 uncomfortable sensation, a kind of giving way 
 in the abdomen of 
 
 My dear Barnes, 
 
 Your affectionate brother, 
 Abel O'Hara. 
 
 P. S. Apropos to giving way — 
 
 Whatever fate may await us in the present 
 venture, Dr. Hummum predicts that it will 
 be worse than our former one. Bad as the 
 tales were, he says we are not now about to 
 fellow them. How can he be so certain ? Have 
 you ever let a copy out of your hands, without 
 knowing where it might have strayed ? I'm sure 
 I kept the copies you sent me, from time to 
 time, close enough ; yet nothing can be more 
 assured than his quiet, settled convictions, ex- 
 cept it may be, the compression of Mr. Maho- 
 ny's lips, and the slow up-and-down shake of 
 his head, as often as he hears the doctor give 
 them utterance ; and this goes to my heart, tho* 
 I hope I know no reason why it should ; I am 
 
INTRODUCTORY LETTlfR. XXIX 
 
 almost tempted to side with him, myself, Barnes. 
 Perhaps it is ruled by fate, or else by the doc- 
 tor and his friend, that a poor author's second 
 book must ever fall below his first. If so, heaven 
 help us, I say again ; one decision would be al- 
 most as bad as the other. Yet we should be 
 ungrateful, indeed, if a recollection of the highly 
 gratifying, though, I fear, too high praise with 
 which all other critics have treated us, did not 
 serve to give us hopes, in spite of Dr. Hum- 
 mum's and Mr. Mahony's prophecy. You have 
 expressed to us your very sincere sense of the 
 kindness and encouragement to which I allude ; 
 Richlard and I beg to express the same to you ; 
 and if any proper opportunity occurs for making 
 our sentiments known, we hereby request you, 
 Barnes, to say, in our names, all that the truest 
 gratitude, in fact all that your own joint feel- 
 ings, would naturally and simply lead you to say. 
 
 A. OH. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 25 
 
 if she likes the rest o't ; mind this, jest," pointing 
 to the noisy throng that now passed our travel- 
 lers. 
 
 In the centre was an old woman of very low 
 stature, and mean apparel, whom the united ef- 
 forts of three strong men, obviously town bai- 
 liffs, could scarce drag onward towards the quay 
 wall : although two of them held each a hand 
 of the pigmy fury, a necessary measure to pre- 
 vent a renewal of the favours which it was evi- 
 dent those hands, assisted by their proper nails, 
 had recently conferred on their faces, and al- 
 though the third exerted, by passing a rope 
 round her waist, considerable influence over 
 her motions. She tugged and twisted, and 
 jumped up and down, and to one side and the 
 other, making various attempts to bite with the 
 few teeth she had left ; or, bending her body, 
 and opposing the amazing resistance of her 
 strength and weight, little as both might appear 
 to be, suffered herself to be trailed a few steps 
 on her heels or knees; her features all the while 
 distorted with frenzy ; her stringy neck swollen 
 like a bundle of small ropes ; her clothes torn 
 
 VOL. I. c 
 
26 THE BGYNE WATER. 
 
 and bemired, and her once shrill pipe grown 
 hoarse with execration. 
 
 " Let me go, let me go !" she exclaimed in 
 passing, " ye tools and ministers of Beelzebub, 
 ye uphauders of abomination, ye servants and 
 torturers for Sathan ! — To the water's brink ye 
 shall never gar me go I — I will hae strength for 
 resistance — yea, the strength that comes frae 
 above is given me ; let me go, ye outcasts ! — ye 
 cast-a-ways ! — ye papists and malignants ! I say 
 to you, he is no king, but a fause idol set up for 
 saul-killing worship ! I uplift my voice ^~.^" 
 
 " On with her, on with her !" cried a person 
 higher in authority than the bailiffs, and look- 
 ing like the mayor's clerk, " Come along, old 
 Alice, and be thankful for the mercy that de- 
 crees you but this punishment ; to-day you have 
 spoken treason, for which the twisting of your 
 old neck were proper reward, only that his wor- 
 ship's honour is too christian-like, and judging 
 your clack but as the clack of a common scold, 
 wills you no more than the quieting of one. Si- 
 lence in the court, till the town law for such 
 offence be read !" 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. ^ 
 
 And thereupon this person read from a paper 
 he held in his hand, often interrupted by the 
 violence of Alice, the following Carrickfergus 
 statute. 
 
 " October, 1575, Ordered and agreede, by 
 the hole court, that all manner of skoldes which 
 shal be openly detected of skolding, or evil 
 wordes in manner of skolding, and for the same 
 shal be condemned before Mr. Maior and his 
 brethren, shal be drawne at the sterne of a 
 boate in the water, from the end of the peare 
 rounde abought the queenes majesties castell, in 
 manner of ducking, and after, when a cage shal 
 be made," (it has been ready these hundred 
 years, remarked the mayor's officer, parentheti- 
 cally) " the party so condemned for a skolde 
 shal be therein punished at the discretion of the 
 maior." 
 
 A general shout followed the promulgation of 
 this salutary law ; and once more, Alice, who had 
 had the advantage of a halt, while it was read- 
 ing, experienced the attentions of the bailiffs, her 
 voice now completely unheard in the grand up- 
 roar, and her resistance proving, from exhaus- 
 tion, less than before. Yet, ere she quite pass- 
 c 2 
 
28 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 ed from the place on which our travellers had 
 drawn up, she made one final effort, in the shape 
 of an appeal for the intercession of all the Lord's 
 people. 
 
 " To so many of ye as have heard the word, 
 and now hear me, I uphaud my voice for a de- 
 liverance ! Tak me out of a captivity, and let 
 your hands undo the bonds of a hard bondage I 
 Ha !" she continued, recognizing an old ac- 
 quaintance, " sit you there on a war-horse, 
 armed to go forth and conquer, and winna you 
 smite wi' the sword, Oliver Whittle, in my 
 cause, and in the cause of a broken covenant ?" 
 another long tug forward, which, notwithstand- 
 ing his sincere zeal, Oliver did not regret, "and 
 the winsome leddy that bides on the back part of 
 the steed ahint you' — The bailiffs looked omi- 
 nously at Mrs. Evelyn ; Paul also looked at his 
 consort — she was pale as death ; " oh winna she 
 uplift her voice for the Lord's bondswoman? 
 avoid ye, evil ones !" another successful tug — 
 " Agents of darkness ! — hell-servants ! — let me 
 go 1 let me go !" 
 
 Her voice here became finally lost, and all 
 resistance, too, seemed at an end, for the bailiffs, 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 'Xif 
 
 and the whole crowd around her, hurried on 
 with increased rapidity, amid the screaming of 
 women, the piping of children, and the barking 
 of a hundred curs. Evelyn and his sister then 
 turned their horses towards a house of enter- 
 tainment ; and Mrs. Evelyn, uncle Paul, and 
 Oliver, followed in profound silence ; the titter 
 of the donkey's guide, and almost at the same 
 time, a lengthened bray from the donkey's self, 
 being the only sounds uttered by any of the crest- 
 fallen party. » 
 
'"^O THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 As evening approached, the travellers resolved 
 to spend that night in Carrickfergus. After 
 they had together partaken of an early supper, 
 Oliver being allowed to sit at a corner of the 
 table, they separated into distinct parties. Mrs. 
 Evelyn and her husband — we always put, by 
 impulse, the dame's name first — fell asleep, op- 
 posite each other, in two rude arm-chairs ; — 
 Oliver Whittle stalked out of the room to seek 
 his own chamber, and there pour forth his soul 
 in extempore prayer; and young Evelyn and 
 his sister adjourned to a private sitting-room, 
 where some discourse occurred between them, 
 which, as during this evening of inaction we 
 think it useful for our purposes, the reader will 
 be pleased to peruse, in, we promise him, a very 
 short chapter. 
 
 " Nothing interests you, Esther," said the 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 31 
 
 young gentleman ; " that is too evident ; you 
 answer my questions, indeed, or agree in my re- 
 marks, or even start one of your own, but the 
 sigh that always closes your lips, tells how in- 
 different to your thoughts is the passing dis- 
 course ; and despite my assurance of your affec- 
 tion, almost tempts me to fear that even my own 
 presence is indifferent." 
 
 The young lady smiled faintly, but beauti- 
 fully, as she answered, " Robert, that you must 
 not say ; God knows, except yourself, there is 
 now, no being on earth, dear to the heart of 
 Esther Evelyn." 
 
 ^' Again, that heavy sigh, dearest Esther, 
 and that sad drooping of your head — how shall 
 I reconcile these symptoms with your words ? 
 Were we not brother and sister, I might be at 
 liberty to reconcile them by, doubtless, a very 
 flattering inference ; but you know you must not 
 be in love with me," he added, in a httle effort 
 to rally her spirits. She smiled again with more 
 animation than before, and her brother conti- 
 nued. 
 
 " And this minds me of a question I have 
 once or twice intended ; but look honestly at 
 
0% THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 me, Esther, that I may judge from your eyes 
 and cheeks, rather than from your words, of 
 the fact ;" she turned her face up in calm sur- 
 prise, and looked fully at her brother, " aye," 
 he resumed, " excellently acted ; be sure, all 
 this convinces me, you do not even guess what 
 I would ask; well, well, no use of any more 
 amazement, I a?n convinced ; and, now, fair sis- 
 ter, is your little heart still your own ?" 
 
 " You mean, am I in love, as it is called, with 
 any one ?" she asked, simply and quietly. 
 " Even so ; in love, as it is called." 
 " Indeed, indeed, brother, I am not." 
 " Never yet saw the man you could love ?" 
 " Yourself apart — for we talk not now of 
 brother's and sister's love ; and, since an event 
 I cannot name" — tears gushed from her eyes, 
 '' never, brother, never." 
 
 " My dearest Esther," the brother continued, 
 much affected also, " this endless and unavail- 
 ing sorrow is sinful and selfish— no, not selfish, 
 I did not mean that ; but how unfortunate I 
 am in all my little efforts to, indeed, Esther, to 
 amuse you ; even now I believed I had chosen 
 a theme as wide as possible from any afflicting 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 33 
 
 recollection, yet how unhappy it has proved. 
 For God's sake, sister, for both our sakes, take 
 up the consolation that religion enjoins, and 
 that your duties and affections make impera- 
 tive." 
 
 "I have struggled to take it up, brother ; 
 but you know I am not in very good health, 
 along with being, or having cause to be, un- 
 happy ; and the weakness of the body increases 
 the weakness of the mind, and the sorrows of 
 the heart; but when I get better you shall see 
 a change." 
 
 " Thanks, Esther, I expected no less from 
 you ; and you shall, you must, get well ; your 
 youth, your prospects, and the advantage of 
 this sea-shore residence, whither we are jour- 
 neying — every thing, to say nought of a bro- 
 ther's love and duty — every thing must give you 
 the health and spirits you merit to enjoy — but 
 how now V 
 
 Notwithstanding the maiden's effort to sup- 
 press her feelings, the string of her griefs 
 having been once touched, she could not check 
 its vibration ; and while her brother spoke, her 
 head dropped on her bosom, her hands on her 
 c 3 
 
34 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 her knees, and in a shower of tears she ex- 
 claimed — " My poor father !" 
 
 Evelyn was instantly at her side ; but he did 
 not now offer a word of consolation or remon- 
 strance, content to let nature exhaust her own 
 paroxysm ; and his silence was perhaps the best 
 appeal to his sister's recollections, which in a 
 little time overcame her extreme sorrow, while 
 she continued to address him. 
 
 " I am weak, Robert, very weak and blam- 
 able ; but to me, who have no recollection of a 
 mother, what a loss was that father ! — mother 
 and father, together ! — Never had child — that 
 child a girl — such a parent. You, who, for 
 your education and improvement by travel, were 
 often away from us— you cannot imagine half 
 his tenderness and goodness ; besides, you are 
 a man^ and cannot feel half so desolate." 
 
 " Being a man, Esther, the more my joy and 
 pride, and the less should you feel desolate, 
 when I am your brother, too." 
 
 She admitted the force of this remark, and 
 once more looked up, while, although it came 
 through tears, her smile was unusually brilliant, 
 as she replied, 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. bO 
 
 " It is so, dearest brother, it is so ; and I am 
 truly selfish and sinful not to prove I know it ; 
 for my natural return of affection for affection, 
 apart — how much heavier, indeed, might be 
 my lot, had I not such a protector — friend — re- 
 lative. I know not how, Robert," she conti- 
 nued, " but, although his connexions must ever 
 command my respect and esteem, I cannot love 
 our uncle and aunt — not with the fulness of 
 heart that gives satisfaction and happiness." 
 
 " And you know, dear sister, how I answer 
 you on that head. Nothing bad, or even un- 
 kind have I seen in either ; yet assuredly enough 
 to suppress warm affection. It is disagreeable 
 to observe the unwomanly sway our aunt holds 
 over our uncle ; and still more offensive to note 
 his unmanly taking of it. Then, her religious 
 prejudices are too strong ; much too strong for 
 the good opinions that persons of all creeds, 
 except the ignorant and violent on every side, 
 begin to entertain, or wish to entertain of each 
 other ; I did not think that one professing the 
 same mild reformed faith with you and me, 
 could hold such rancour as our aunt does hold 
 against papist fellow subjects, especially in this 
 kingdom, which — although here in the north, 
 
36 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 Presbyterians, with a few Episcopalians, be the 
 majority — is almost wholly possessed by people 
 of that persuasion. Such unchristian and un- 
 seemly opinions, if, indeed, opinions they may 
 'be called, ought to be left to the very ignorant 
 among the covenanters, some of whom live 
 around us, and who have been as remarkable 
 for hostility to our own church, as to that which 
 our aunt denounces." 
 
 " I understand little of these matters, Robert, 
 but would gladly be guided by your informa- 
 tion and instructions. He who is gone, never 
 cared to bring such subjects before me ; or 
 when he did, his words only breathed charity 
 and forbearance to all God's creatures. Never- 
 theless, many have instilled into my mind a fear 
 of danger to our good religion from the crown- 
 ing of a popish king ; — much dislike, I know, 
 has lately been shewn against the duke." 
 
 " The king, now, Esther." 
 
 "And many struggles made to keep him 
 from the succession ; — was there no real dan- 
 ger ? And now, that, as you say, the obnoxious 
 duke is king, is there none ?" 
 
 " Wise and good men of different sects see 
 none. The cry of danger was raised by the 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 37 
 
 heads of a party, and caught up by their pre- 
 judiced and credulous adherents; but that party 
 is now silenced in the general voice of the 
 nation, which hath at length broke out; and, 
 strengthened by King James's own promises, 
 all welcome to the throne of his fathers a king, 
 whose only crime, as yet, it is to run the risk 
 of their displeasure rather than lay down his con- 
 -science." 
 
 " But, had he not part in the plot, brother ?" 
 " Even when the plot was believed to exist, 
 his worst enemies did not directly charge him 
 with a part in it ; now that it and its promulga- 
 tors have passed into disrepute, there can be 
 less reason for objection to king James on that 
 head. I see, sister, you have taken no note — 
 alas, why should you ! — of what has lately 
 chanced in the world ; but learn, that since 
 the trial and acquittal of Sir George Wakeman, 
 in the teeth of the depositions of that human 
 monster, Oates, no man of ordinary reflection 
 or honor places reliance on his assertions, so 
 that his whole plot, with its circumstances, now 
 seems but a terrible fabrication, badly and clum- 
 sily put together, with all the flagrancy, but 
 
38 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 with not a particle of the consistence of impos- 
 ture." 
 
 " Alas ! and is it only now, after the spilling 
 of much noble blood, the desolation of many 
 noble famines, and the wrongfully accusing, of 
 frightful acts and intentions, millions of fellow- 
 creatures — is it only now that wise and good 
 men find out that, which, had they eyes in sea- 
 son, might have saved them bitter and awful re- 
 collections ?" 
 
 " Only now ; and doubtless, the credulity 
 that blinded them, heretofore, and the rancour 
 that begot such credulity, make the foremost 
 stain on the reflective and mercifid character of 
 the great nation, whence we derive our ances- 
 try. Mayhap, too, of its kind, we should say, 
 the only one." 
 
 " Yet even now, brother, I rejoice to be 
 set right on this matter : for it will teach me a 
 kinder thought and more Christian bearing to- 
 wards the people I have wronged in my ill- 
 formed judgment. Would that our aunt could 
 hear patiently the words I have heard from 
 you! yet, living in the world, she ought to 
 have heard them, with profit, from many other 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 39 
 
 tongues ; and that she still maintains her unchris- 
 tian temper, is a certain cause for my withhold- 
 ing the love I before told you I could not pay : 
 —indeed, though from the beginning I knew 
 my feelings towards her, this is the first true 
 ground I could assign to rest them on. I have 
 seen so little of our aunt and uncle, that my 
 knowledge of them must be httle. Ere you 
 could return from your travels, after our sud- 
 den loss, I mourned alone in our desolate house, 
 by fair Lough Neagh ; when you came, we 
 mourned together ; our father's brother, and 
 his lady, were then in America, as I was told, 
 and a year elapsed before they visited us, since 
 when, only some weeks have passed to make my 
 observations in ; but you often saw them in Eng- 
 land and in Derry-city — did you not ?" 
 
 " Often : yet my sentiments of them are the 
 same with yours." 
 
 " How chanced it, that, ever since I was a 
 giddy child — infant almost, I did not see my 
 uncle in our father's house, until his late visit, 
 made to assert his duties as our guardian?" 
 
 " You know, sister, that, as eldest brother, 
 our father succeeded to the almost entire pos- 
 
40 THE BOYNE WATER* 
 
 sion of the estate bequeathed to him by the 
 brave ancestor, who, in 1172, at the side of the 
 great De Courcy, lord of Ulster, won it with 
 his good sword from the uncivihzed natives of 
 this northern country. Our uncle being, there- 
 fore, without competent independence, was 
 forced to push his fortunes in the world by 
 means of mercantile pursuits and honest indus- 
 try ; so that many years ago he settled in Lon- 
 don, and there marrying his present lady, ' ac- 
 quired by her, and by his own efforts, much 
 wealth, and also became possessed of ships, 
 which our uncle Jeremiah, still younger than 
 he, long commanded in their voyages to and 
 from the western continent and islands." 
 
 . "I remember uncle Jeremiah well ; indeed, 
 I know him well ; and, I believe, love him, too, 
 better than our newly-arrived relations : for, al- 
 though somewhat too much of a humorist, I 
 think his heart warmer, and his manners kinder. 
 But our guardians have been some time in Ire- 
 land, residing in Derry-city, as I have heard ?" 
 " Yes ; settled there, two years, perhaps, be- 
 fore their last w^estern voyage, their wealth ap- 
 plied to the purchase of lands and houses, and 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 41 
 
 our uncle an alderman of that city ; but what 
 with their frequent visits to England ; the retir- 
 ed habits, and different style of mind of our fa- 
 ther ; and, withal, the bad state of the northern 
 roads lying between Derry and our residence, 
 so irksome, as you may have seen, to any but 
 youthful travellers — it is not matter of wonder 
 that, since their removal to Ireland, our uncle 
 and aunt should not have visited us." 
 
42 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The travellers left Carrickfergus next morning, 
 in prosecution of their route along the coast, to 
 the little village where Esther was to reside for 
 the advantages of change of air and sea-bathing. 
 Passing out of the town through Glenarm, or 
 Spittal gate, one of four then existing in the 
 old walls, the party continued their way among 
 the district called " Scotch quarters," from a 
 colony of Argyle and Gallowayshire fishers, 
 who came over in 1665 : and these visitors 
 might be heard alluding to " the Irish folk," 
 in their neighbourhood, with a mixed air of in- 
 difference and toleration, such as would have 
 been more natural, on the part of the natives, 
 towards themselves : this, however, was only a 
 specimen of the solemn self-conceit of the old 
 puritans. After a few miles' riding, our friends 
 passed the limits of the county corporate^ or 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 43 
 
 county palatine of Carrickfergus ; for the dis- 
 trict, although included in the county Antrim, 
 and extending only about four miles square, 
 has an independent civil existence, thus vari- 
 ously designated ; with respect to the last de- 
 signation, it may be proper to inform the reader, 
 on the authority of Spencer, that counties pala^ 
 tine were formed after the first colonization, 
 and granted " great priviledges," to enable the 
 settlers, " subject to continuall invasions," to 
 defend themselves against " the wilde Irish ;" 
 and perhaps this way of putting the question of 
 colonial residence, will not, on reflection, seem 
 a whit less modest, than the views subsequently 
 taken of the matter by the Scotch adventurers, 
 which has been mentioned. 
 
 The road onward lay, as well as that from 
 Belfast to Carrickfergus, very near the coast. 
 It passed, at Kilroot, a quarry of columnar ba^- 
 salt, as perfect as any specimen at the Giant's 
 Causeway, although the distance between both 
 places is, at least, forty miles ; but at the time 
 of this tale, the quarry had not been discovered^ 
 Leaving island Magee to the right, it then 
 wound, rather more interiorly, towards the vil- 
 
44 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 lage of Larne. Of Island Magee — which, by 
 the way, is, now at least, no island — notice has 
 already been taken, as the scene, about the 
 year 1641, of a midnight massacre, perpetrated 
 by some Scotch troops, regardless of sex or 
 age, on the primitive and unarmed inhabitants. 
 It has also been mentioned, that different parties 
 give different accounts of this affair, their dif- 
 ferences chiefly applying to its date ; and this 
 date involving the question of whether or no it 
 was retaliation or unprovoked aggression — one 
 of the consequences, or one of the causes of the 
 Irish massacre, upon which Hume is so indig- 
 nantly and truly eloquent. In the main facts, 
 however, that the slaughter took place, and 
 that those slaughtered were unoffending and un- 
 warlike people, all writers agree ; except, indeed, 
 Hume himself, who, amid the splendour of his 
 angry rhetoric, while holding up to the detesta- 
 tion of ages the atrocities of Irish bigots, omits 
 to mention the atrocities (committed at the very 
 same time), of Scotch bigots ; although before 
 he gave way to passion, and indulged in his im- 
 perfect statement, historical dignity called on him 
 to seek out or recollect the attendant truths 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 45 
 
 that might have served to check the one and 
 enlarge the other : — but we digress. The prin- 
 cipal facts admitted on all hands, men whose 
 views of human nature are not controlled by the 
 prejudices of a country, a time, or a sect, will 
 care little about the minor contradictions, how- 
 ever fervently they may be urged ;— -the side 
 that retaliates a barbarity is surely little better 
 than the side that originates one; and we al- 
 lude to the circumstance only for the purpose 
 (as is our duty, or the necessity of our plan) of 
 placing before the reader a true and real pic- 
 ture of the general state of men's minds and 
 feelings some years previous to the time in 
 which the events and persons of our story are 
 to occur and act. Perhaps the unhappy matter 
 should not at all have been noticed, but that in 
 getting, — across the little gulf that separates 
 Island Magee from the main land — a glance at 
 the spot on which it happened, a grim and re- 
 collective smile struggled through the hard fea- 
 tures of Oliver Whittle. 
 
 At about the same moment, others of the 
 party were enjoying another view, of, at least, 
 more harmless and agreeable impression. It 
 
46 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 was formed by different points of the main land 
 to the right, and of the promontory, as it may 
 more truly be called, to the left, sweeping into 
 the gulf, at different distances, and all wear- 
 ing the family likeness, that, not disagreeably 
 however, characterizes basalt hills ; that is to 
 say, an almost flatness on the tops, continued 
 along the extent of the outline, and, just when 
 they are about to shoot into the water, or dip to 
 the plain, an abrupt convex curve. The point 
 that, nearer than the middle distance, concealed 
 the village of Larne, also concealed, from its 
 stretching out to meet the opposite head-land, 
 a continuous view of the sea ; and thus the gulf 
 had quite the appearance of an extensive lake, 
 bound up by those successive piles of precipice, 
 of which Ballygelly Head and Garron Point 
 were the most imposing. 
 
 Continuing their route, the travellers, leaving 
 to the left some close scenery of mixed beauty 
 and ruggedness, halted and took refreshments 
 at Larne ; and soon after proceeded towards 
 Glenami. The road from Belfast to Carrick- 
 fergus, had, — to do common justice to Mrs. 
 Evelyn's past observations — been bad enough ; 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 47 
 
 from Carrickfergus to Larne it was worse ; 
 but from Larne onward it was worst, of all. 
 Not to speak of its ruggedness, it scaled, in the 
 first instance, the barrier (a little inward) of 
 Bally gelly Head, looking, when seen even from 
 the brow of an introductory ascent, as if it ran 
 zig-zag for mere wantonness higher than birds 
 of grave habits need desire to fly. Then there 
 was a descent of course ; and, again, a tremen- 
 dous rise ; and, more provoking than all, a se- 
 cond descent into the village, upon the slope of 
 which, the fat horses of the elder of the party, 
 particularly he who bore the double weight of 
 Oliver and Mrs. Evelyn, could scarce find foot- 
 ing. Of the increased contortions of face and 
 multiplied groans of Paul, little therefore need 
 be said ; or except when a moment of utter pe- 
 ril caused her to keep in her breath — of the in- 
 calculable velocity of his good lady's tongue. 
 There never were such roads, she averred, nor 
 such a country, up and down, hill and hollow, 
 nor such a people, that would not level it. In 
 the neighbourhood of London, from one side 
 to the other, there was but one hill, and that 
 you need not climb if you did not like ; except 
 
48 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 that during the plague the citizens were fain 
 have recourse to it for safety, being forced to 
 run out of the city ; and when (according to 
 to an old poet, rather than Mrs. Evelyn) 
 
 " Some climbed Highgate hill, and there they see 
 The world so large that they amazed be ; — " 
 
 and what chiefly inconvenienced Mrs. Evelyn, — 
 and indeed irritated her so much that she often 
 repeated it — was the reflection of the utter use- 
 lessness, to say the least, of creeping up one 
 mountain, and scrambling down at the far side, 
 solely for the purpose of creeping up and scram- 
 bling down another and another. But perhaps 
 the frequent appearance, to her right, of the 
 great sea, caught through partial depressions 
 of a continued line of rock or swelling grounds, 
 very near at hand, and a dizzy height above 
 it — perhaps this, suggesting a recollection of 
 the real peril of her situation, struck into Mrs. 
 Evelyn's heart a more appalling sensation, al- 
 though it was too sincerely felt to require the 
 usual avowal. 
 
 No selfishness, or ignoran<5e, or even misgiv- 
 ings of personal safety, had, however, the effect 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 49 
 
 of closing the eyes and minds of Evelyn and 
 his gentle sister to the interest of their situa- 
 tion. With feelings of mingled awe and de- 
 hght, they found themselves gradually shut in, 
 as they gradually ascended, between precipices 
 and swelling grounds of amazing magnitude; 
 the solitude, and the ruin, and the savageness 
 of their mountain road, had due effect upon 
 them ; and when, from about the summit of the 
 last fatiguing ascent between them and Glen- 
 arm, the scenery expanded, only to assume a 
 more vast and entrancing character ; when, to 
 their left, swept the mighty hill that bounds the 
 Great deer-park of Antrim castle, crossed and 
 overtopped, at the distance of some miles, by an- 
 other of a more sterile and blacker aspect; 
 when to their right the land fell down to the 
 level of the unlimited ocean — extent, though of 
 a varied kind, being still the character of the 
 scene ; with, at the opposite side of Glenarm's 
 beautiful bay, the huge headland of Garron 
 Point, now beginning to shew its rude variety of 
 feature ; with ships and little boats ploughing 
 or glancing across, or resting near the shore ; 
 with the little village itself, newly rebuilt after 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
50 THE EOYNE WATER. 
 
 the burning by Robert Munroe and his purita- 
 nical soldiers, and now therefore looking more 
 neat and cheery ; and the old castellated man- 
 sion of the Earl of Antrim, detached from the 
 village, and standing in a great solitude ; when 
 this united picture at last came on their view, 
 the brother and sister felt more than repaid for 
 any inconvenience that might have attended 
 their progress towards it. 
 
 Another rest at Glenarm, and notwithstanding 
 the advanced hour of the day, our travellers 
 remounted, to gain, after eight additional Irish 
 miles, the little hamlet of Cushindoll, which was 
 the object of their journey. And now the cross- 
 ing of Garron Point proved a task of such diffi- 
 culty, and, to the heavier mounted of the party, 
 danger, as even their former experience of the 
 road could not have enabled them to anticipate. 
 The way clambered with difficulty at the bases of 
 the last precipices which, a little inland, topped 
 the point ; and those terrific precipices were 
 rent into a thousand masses of rock, great and 
 small ; toppling over, or clustering down the 
 side of the descent, in all that primitive and hor- 
 rid state of rest in which, during the mighty con- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 51 
 
 vulsion that shaped them, they had caught, and, 
 no eye could tell how, balanced and sustained 
 each other. Often, too, they jutted out upon 
 the only strip of ground available as a road over 
 the point ; prescribing its course ; and, could one 
 always behold through the minor inequalities 
 to the right, the tremendous descent that at only 
 a short distance, still shot down to the sea, 
 sometimes pushing it too fearfully forward. 
 
 At about the place where, in consequence of 
 those intrusions, the road grew narrowest, and 
 approached nearest to the precipice on the 
 right, was the termination of the clamber up ; 
 and then, almost immediately, commenced a 
 descent nearly to the level of the sea, so very 
 abrupt, that before any of the party would ven- 
 ture upon it, all halted and held a consultation. 
 The result, in the first instance, was a determi- 
 nation to have the horses led down, whilst, one 
 by one, the travellers should follow them. First, 
 then, the bare-legged boy volunteered, with a 
 sneer at the precautions adopted, to shew the 
 perfect safety of the road. Allowing his donkey 
 to follow at his leisure, the imp ran headlong 
 from side to side, in the kind of movement al- 
 D 2 
 
 LIBRART - 
 
 UNivERsmr OF lUfHOrp 
 
52 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 ways preferred by sagacious horses in similar 
 situations ; with the exception that they creep, 
 while he bounded as freely as if the ground were 
 quite level under his feet. When safe at the 
 bottom, he cut some self-flattering capers ; and, 
 after waiting, a few minutes, the arrival of his 
 charge, who followed exactly in his track, 
 though ten times more slowly, he joined the 
 party at nearly the same speed in which he 
 had left them. Young Evelyn then led down 
 his own horse, while the boy accompanied him 
 with uncle Paul's and Oliver's; and both re- 
 turning, it was finally arranged that, after such 
 encouragement, Paul himself should be con- 
 veyed by the urchin, and his lady by Oliver, 
 while Evelyn should render Esther the same 
 assistance. 
 
 Operations commenced by Paul reluctantly 
 giving his left hand to the boy, while he fur- 
 ther propped himself on a cane held in his 
 right. The first few steps were favorable ; 
 but when the poor little man found himself 
 launched on the very sudden declivity, with a 
 vast extent yet to be got over, and — from the 
 rocky smoothness of the road — no hope of re- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 5S 
 
 tracing liis way upward, courage forsook his 
 heart; his little legs— at the coolest moments 
 none of the most steady — tottered under him ; 
 his purple face strove to grow pale, and himself 
 strove to stand still. At this, his consort as- 
 sailed him from above, and the little guide, 
 (though as they stood together, no difference 
 could be observed in height, at least) at his ear, 
 with cries of expostulation to proceed ; the one 
 exerting a loud voice of command, the other 
 speaking and laughing in a breath. Paul grow- 
 ing more nervous and confused, yet tried to do 
 as he was bid, and immediately put his feet in 
 motion ; but whether he was in too relaxed a 
 state to govern their motions, or that the mis- 
 chievous imp pulled him downward instead of 
 checking his natural readiness to descend ra- 
 pidly, true it is, that the moment he trusted 
 them from under him, his legs set off at a pitch 
 of speed too amazing to be voluntary, until at 
 last they failed him altogether, and down came 
 uncle Paul, grasping the guide in his arms, and 
 roUing with him, over and over, to the bottom 
 of the declivity. 
 The party above were necessarily much alarm- 
 
54 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 ed at this accident; Mrs. Evelyn screamed in- 
 cessantly as her lord continued in motion ; and 
 it was not till the boy, starting to his feet on 
 the level road, and raising uncle Paul with 
 him, repeatedly asserted the safety of both, that 
 tranquillity could be restored. But these as- 
 surances, and at length, even their confirmation 
 by Paul himself, could not now prevail on Mrs. 
 Evelyn to take her turn down the hill with 
 Oliver. The brother and sister tried to urge 
 her, but in vain. No ; it was a plain tempting 
 of Providence; a plain hazarding of precious 
 life ; — Mrs. Evelyn would never stir a step far- 
 ther on such a vile road — such a papist road — 
 back she might go, — though even that was fool- 
 hardy and presumptuous — ^just to enable her- 
 self to get out of the country altogether ; but 
 down ! — down that precipice ! — never. And to 
 manifest her determination, the lady squatted 
 herself on a low flat stone by the road side. 
 
 Evening had for some time been approaching ; 
 but now, a shade of twilight too deep to be in 
 regular gradation with any that had preceded 
 it, fell suddenly over the mountain way. Eve- 
 lyn, looking on the sky, saw it assume a lurid, 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 55 
 
 bronzed aspect ; and, at the same time, his eye 
 caught and followed up a fearful phenomenon. 
 Upon the summit of a hill, some distance be- 
 fore him, he observed a large black cloud to 
 settle, the only one that ^mtruded on the dull 
 monotonous colour of the heavens. Presently, 
 dividing into two parts, one part retired from 
 his view behind the hill, while the other ap- 
 proached towards the party, marking its course 
 with horror, and so far as the almost uninhabit- 
 ed state of the country can permit the term, 
 with devastation. It was a tornado cloud, then 
 not unknown in Ireland. Even at a distance 
 Evelyn could note its effect along the sandy 
 beach, or over the fern-clothed bosoms of the 
 hills. The sand rose in clouds or pillars ; the 
 fern, first uprooted, and then collected, ascend- 
 ed high into the air. As it came nearer, the 
 few old trees on its course were torn from the 
 rocks to which they clung, and whisked about 
 like straws, and many of the rocks themselves 
 unbedded, and hurled to the sea ; while the 
 roof of one miserable cabin, perched on the su- 
 perior precipice to the left, was uphfted, on the 
 wings of the cloud, to an amazing elevation. 
 
56 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 Terror, at this unusual and appalling sight, 
 seized on all. Evelyn, endeavouring to check 
 his own sensations, held tight the rein of his 
 sister's jennet, as she was the only individual 
 of the party who had not yet dismounted r 
 Oliver, and Mrs. Evelyn (at last silent), fell on 
 their knees, imagining to themselves the end of 
 the world, or else conjuring the very top of 
 Garron Point into the valley of Jehoshaphat. 
 The cries of Paul and of the boy, their com- 
 mon tears and childish lamentation might be 
 heard from the road underneath, and perhaps, 
 as they were rather nearer to the danger, they 
 had most immediate cause for outcry: parti- 
 cularly when the crash of falling rocks came very 
 closely on their ears. 
 
 And still the black and giant cloud sailed on 
 to the travellers, although occasionally diverted 
 by its own wayward impulse to the right or 
 the left. On — on ! — and it hovered over the 
 spot where uncle Paul and his treacherous 
 guide were stationed. Fortunately for them,, 
 the mountain to their left presented, on its sides 
 or summit, but few trees or rocks to the fury of 
 the tornado ; but their friends above could see 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 57 
 
 them, first, prostrated, and then caught up se- 
 veral feet from the ground — dropped, again 
 raised, and again dropt, as an eagle might tan- 
 talize a lambkin. Long before Paul was a se- 
 cond time treated in this rude fashion, he had 
 become insensible to his danger and sufferings, 
 so that the tornado might almost as well have 
 vented itself on a bunch of fern, the stump of 
 a tree, or any other passive subject. 
 
 The terrible wonder began to ascend to the 
 summit on which rested the remainder of the 
 travellers. Increased darkness attended it, 
 and the tumbling and crash of loose rock, 
 again found on its course, shewed its unabated 
 power and fury. Evelyn and his sister, Mrs. 
 Evelyn, and Oliver, saw death approach them ; 
 — one and all they conceived, from what had 
 already been manifest, that in its passage over 
 their heads, the huge masses of rock, which 
 before seemed to require but an infant's touch 
 to get downward motion, must inevitably be- 
 come loosened, and so whelm them in shock- 
 ing destruction. As the certainty of immediate 
 fate closed on all — all, except Mrs. Evelyn, 
 prepared for it in silence ; but her uninterrupt- 
 D 3 
 
58 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 ed scream rose frightfully among the rocks and 
 hills around, and she fell prostrate, as if by an- 
 ticipation she would bury herself in the earth, 
 and so shorten the period of suffering. But, 
 halfway only over the ascent the cloud had ad- 
 vanced, when it became stationary — opened — 
 belched forth a sheet of flame — exploded in a 
 tremendous thunder-clap, and, rolling over the 
 precipice to the right of the party, and hurry- 
 ing with it many masses of rock, spent itself 
 harmlessly, though terrifically, in the ocean. 
 The mute and quailing waters rose up at its 
 summons, in unnatural intrusion into the re- 
 gion of another element, or, heaving laboriously 
 and blackly, seemed to evince their terror at a 
 visitation so ominous. 
 
 And though, with the first thunder-burst, all 
 certain danger removed from the travellers, 
 still was their consternation rather increased 
 than diminished, at the moment. The explo- 
 sion was so near, and the reverberations through 
 the rocks and mountains were so astounding, 
 as almost to add frenzy to their despair ; and, 
 as the fragments of precipice continued, even 
 after the passage of the tornado, to crash down- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 59 
 
 ward to the sea, it seemed to them that the sc- 
 Hd buhvark under then- feet, and all around 
 them, was torn piecemeal by tempest and thun- 
 der-bolt, and about to crumble into one general 
 ruin. Nor had they much pause to relieve 
 themselves from this state of over-excitement, 
 when — as if the one tongue of flame which had 
 issued from the cloud only served to ignite the 
 whole surcharged atmosphere — flash followed 
 flash, and peal followed peal, the one fiercely 
 relieved by the increasing darkness, and the 
 other sustained and exaggerated 'by the voices 
 of mountain and precipice, until nothing but 
 horrid blaze and horrid noise could be seen or 
 heard, and the face and silence of nature seem- 
 ed no longer to be. 
 
 At the moment that such effects were wrought 
 most powerfully on the feelings of all, and of 
 Mrs. Evelyn in particular, Esther's horse be- 
 came ungovernable in its fright, and, despite the 
 resistance of young Evelyn, backed from the 
 place where it had hitherto tremblingly stood. 
 The brother called to Esther to throw herself 
 off; — her limbs were strapped, for safety, to the 
 saddle, and she could not possibly do so. Still 
 
60 THE BOYNE WATER, 
 
 the animal pranced and backed ; and now, for 
 the first time, its fair rider screamed. Mrs. 
 Evelyn caught up the signal, and recommenced 
 her own shrill vociferations. They were an- 
 swered, among the heights over her head, by a 
 scream also, but of a cadence so wild and un- 
 natural, that, for an instant, she held her breath 
 to look up. Standing upon the edge of a large 
 rock, in an attitude and manner of the most 
 violent energy, she there saw a man, of, it might 
 be, about fifty, with a profusion of wild hair 
 streaming about eyes of almost maniac charac- 
 ter, and holding a gun in his hand, while he 
 beckoned rapidly, and she thought angrily, to 
 Evelyn. One look at this person, who ap- 
 peared so suddenly but a few yards above her, 
 w^as enough for Mrs. Evelyn ; she instantly ut- 
 tered a louder cry than ever, and darted across 
 the road in the direction whither Evelyn and 
 his sister were forced by the affrighted horse. 
 Almost as instantly, the wild-looking man sprung 
 like a beast of prey after her — cast away his 
 gun — seized her by the arms, and puUed her 
 back. Mrs. Evelyn resisted ; and gigantic as 
 was the strength of her captor, he had a strug- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 61 
 
 gle for it, before he succeeded in gaining suf- 
 ficient mastery over her actions, to whisk her 
 round, and rush headlong with her down the 
 steep road. At the very time that this scene 
 was enacting, and while Esther's horse still 
 plunged backward, two other voices cried out, 
 exactly in the quarter from which Mrs. Evelyn 
 had been startled, and two other figures sprung 
 up exactly where she had seen the first ; but 
 two others of a very different kind — a girl and 
 youth, about fifteen and eighteen. The lad 
 also held a carbine in his hand, and wore the 
 Scotch bonnet and trews ; the girl was pret- 
 tily attired ; both had an air of interest if not 
 rank about them. And both starting up on the 
 ledge of rock, together directed their looks and 
 voices towards Evelyn and his sister, in the ex- 
 pression of utter alarm and horror. " Keep 
 back the horse ! keep back the horse !" they 
 exclaimed in a breath, the very instant they ap- 
 peared. 
 
 *' Keep him back !" continued the beautiful 
 girl, clapping her hands in agony, '' his hoof is 
 almost on the last sod between ye and your 
 ruin !" 
 
b^ THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " The sea-precipice ! — the precipice !" — re- 
 echoed her young and nearly as beautiful com- 
 panion, as he bounded hke a wild deer from 
 his place, and rushed towards the brother and 
 sister. 
 
 Upon the first announcement of the dreadful 
 peril they had before only apprehended, Esther 
 swooned in her saddle, still held in it by the 
 straps, and Evelyn abandoning the rein, made 
 a last desperate and instinctive attempt to catch 
 at one of the animal's fore feet, and thus, if 
 possible, bring him to the ground. The horse 
 reared up the moment he was touched, for the 
 brother so far succeeded in his first effort, and 
 flinging Evelyn a good distance from him, 
 moved back more alarmed than before. Again 
 the young girl cried out in treble terror, and, 
 abandoning her station, descended after the 
 youth. Evelyn, starting up from the confusion 
 of a moment, found himself too far to re-attempt 
 instantaneous assistance ; yet he ran, or rather 
 staggered onward ; the horse still backed ; he 
 could now, himself, see the edging horror, and 
 he could see the animal step another step to- 
 wards it — when, like an arrow, the youth shot 
 
THE BOYNE ^VATER. 6S 
 
 across the road, came up with the horse, put 
 his carbine to its head — discharsjed it — and the 
 animal fell, quite dead, going down on the side 
 that left Esther free of his fall. She was safe. 
 In a moment the young man released her 
 from her fettered situation in the saddle, and, 
 kneeling, presented her to the attentions of the 
 girl, who was now by his side, and who, kneeling 
 also, tenderly and anxiously received the charge. 
 Evelyn, tottering forward, had fallen almost 
 senseless by his sister ; the youth raised him 
 also, and supported him in his arms. Oliver 
 had remained praying since the first appearance 
 of the storm, and in pious abstraction, selfish- 
 ness, or cowardice, never moved till all the suc- 
 ceeding dangers were over; now rising from his 
 knees, he approached the group of young per- 
 sons, and forced dov/n Evelyn's throat some 
 brandy, which he produced, in a blaick bottle, 
 from a side-pocket. He wished Esther to have 
 a little also, but her youthful supporter would 
 only use some in chafing her temples. Both 
 applications did good service ; the sister and 
 brother revived almost together, and flew to 
 each other's embrace. When they sufficiently 
 
64. 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 recovered their recollections, and that Esther 
 learned by what means she had escaped a dread- 
 ful death, she turned, with Evelyn, in all the 
 gratitude of human nature for hfe preserved, to 
 thank the young person, but he was gone. 
 
 " My brother," said the girl, " has walked 
 down the hill, to inquire after the dame who 
 accompanied you." 
 
 " He should have waited to accept our warm- 
 est and most grateful acknowledgments," said 
 Esther. 
 
 " They would please him, I am sure, but 
 still he thought not of them," resumed the girl : 
 " his service had been offered here, and while 
 another occasion might elsewhere happen for 
 it, was he not right to go?" 
 
 ** Then you, at least, maiden, will take, in 
 your brother's name, all the thanks, the tears 
 of thankfulness, that are his due ; and for your- 
 self, too, accept our thanks ; for, now that I can 
 recollect, your kind arms were around me when 
 I revived." 
 
 " My brother is overpaid in your words," re- 
 plied the young stranger ; " and as for myself, 
 the highest pleasure you could do me, I had 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 65 
 
 felt in receiving thanks for him, even before 
 you noticed my own petty service, which was 
 nought ; nought, indeed ; I did not even at- 
 tempt a good; I but cried out to fright him 
 when he was about to do one ; and I have but 
 the pride of seeing such a brother act as be- 
 came him." 
 
 " A noble young creature," whispered Evelyn 
 to his sister. 
 
 " Yes, and withal a pretty and graceful," 
 Esther replied. Their observations were, in- 
 deed, called for. Although rather below the 
 middle- size of woman, and not promising ever 
 to reach it, the sister of their young deliverer 
 looked, while thus speaking, what they had de- 
 scribed her. Standing straight as a poplar, 
 with her head elevated, her neck curving like a 
 swan's, and her shoulders so knit as to produce 
 a fine curve in her back, there was about her 
 figure and air, and in the all but haughty out- 
 turning and curling of her parted lips, as well 
 as in her slightly aquiline nose, her full quick 
 eye, straight eyebrows, and ample forehead, 
 much that would have well characterized a 
 girlish Juno. When she moved, too, her step 
 
66 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 was firm, though graceful; and, child as she 
 might be, she commanded interest, and enforced 
 respect. 
 
 " I can honor your sentiments, fair girl," 
 Esther resumed, anxious to continue the con- 
 versation ; " and if you come and again sit by 
 me, and give me your sweet support, you shall 
 know particularly why." 
 
 Their arms were in a moment round each 
 other, the younger lady complying with the re- 
 quest of Esther with a manner as smiling and 
 as kind as it had before been dignified, and per- 
 haps distant. She afibrded, too, her Httle at- 
 tentions, and they were received by her new 
 friend in a way that was a tacit assumption of 
 something superior, either in rank or spirit, on 
 her part, and a quiet admission of it on the part 
 of Esther. In fact, it was the immediate ascen- 
 dancy which a stronger mind asserts, even at 
 the first moment of contact, over a weaker one. 
 
 " Now, know," Esther continued, " that I 
 love and honor your admiration of your brother, 
 because I, too, am a sister— aye, sitting by my 
 brother's side — and can therefore feel your 
 feeling." 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 67 
 
 " I saw this young cavalier strive for your 
 safety, like a brother, indeed; and should he 
 not, for so fair and sweet a sister ?" 
 
 " Aye; but we have the ties of sorrow as 
 well as love to bind us ; we are orphan brother 
 and sister," said Esther, while her tears flowed, 
 and she instinctively pressed the hand of her 
 young condoler, as if to prefer a claim on her 
 sympathy. The pressure was gently returned, 
 as the other said, in a soft, rather than a sad 
 voice, 
 
 " We, too, have known an early sorrow ; but 
 not to such an extent ; in the last fall of the 
 leaf, Edmund and I lost a mother 1" she paused 
 a moment, closed, and then lifted up her eyes, 
 as if silently repeating a prayer, and added, 
 " may she rest in peace !" 
 
 The wild-looking man who had before terri- 
 fied and pulled Mrs. Evelyn about, here started 
 on the bit of level road which afforded rest to 
 the young party, and with continued energy of 
 action, looked earnestly around him. Seeing 
 the group, he uttered a cry of the same strange 
 kind which had hurt that lady's ears, and 
 quickly advanced to them. Neither Evelyn 
 nor Esther had seen him on his first appear- 
 
6s THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 ance, and while the one now rose, in some 
 alarm, to prevent his too near approach, the 
 other clung in terror to her companion. 
 
 " Fear him not," said the girl ; " he is my fa- 
 ther's brother, and comes on a good intent : 
 some service he has already done you by placing 
 out of the reach of danger, on the level road be- 
 low, your matronly friend ; and do not mind his 
 looks, or action either ; God has afflicted him — 
 he is deaf and dumb ; and, like most in his si- 
 tuation, the earnestness of his looks ajid motions 
 seem wild, perhaps dangerous, at the very mo- 
 ment that they mean a service." 
 
 The gesticulation of the man when he came 
 up to the group seemed, although extravagant, 
 to prove the truth of these observations. He 
 first ran to his niece and kissed her, uttering 
 strange, and, to him, unconscious sounds ; then 
 he took Evelyn's hand, and shook it violently ; 
 then Esther's ; and having first raised it to his 
 lips, he passed it, where he had found it, round 
 the neck of the young girl, causing her also to 
 lock her arms around Esther ; all this affording 
 him, as was evident by his smiles, and the vi- 
 vacity of his eyes, the greatest pleasure. 
 
 After a few moments, his niece and he ra- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 69 
 
 pidly conversed by signs ; and she gave her 
 friends to understand that her uncle had been 
 sent by her brother to warn them of the neces- 
 sity of immediately descending the hill, rejoin- 
 ing their party, and seeking shelter for the 
 night, which, although the thunder-storm had 
 long since ceased, now set in, black and lower- 
 ing, with a threat of heavy rain. Indeed, the 
 big drops which, rather unusually, had, during 
 the thunder, omitted to fall, now began to re- 
 commend this advice to Evelyn ; so that with 
 all possible despatch, he led his sister down the 
 steep descent, the fair young girl following un- 
 assisted ; and Oliver, after the manifestation of 
 some timidity, encouraged by the dumb man, 
 almost in as rough a manner as that which had 
 marked his offer of service to Mrs. Evelyn. 
 
 On the level, or nearly level ground, they 
 found uncle Paul already re-mounted, and 
 awaiting in silent consternation, the further will 
 of fate and the elements ; Mrs. Evelyn, too, 
 was on her pillion, awaiting Oliver, though not 
 in a mood quite as silent. Esther was Hfted to 
 her brother's horse, while he assumed his place 
 on foot, at her bridle ; the other sister locked 
 
70 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 her arm in that of the other brother ; and all 
 were very soon ready to start, when the young 
 man inquired whither he should have the plea- 
 sure of conducting them. 
 
 " To a cottage they had lately engaged, by 
 the sea-coast, Evelyn replied," which could not 
 now be far distant ; but the boy would answer 
 particularly." 
 
 The boy, however, did not appear. 
 
 " Paul, Paul, what hast thou done with the 
 stripling, sir?" asked Mrs. Evelyn, losing pa- 
 tience. Paul did not know. He believed he 
 had run away in fright ; and thankful he ought 
 to be for tiie ability to run away. That the ur- 
 chin had at least played no trick in this instance 
 was evident, as the donkey still attended with 
 his hampers, although his master was gone. 
 
 " This is most embarrassing," Evelyn conti- 
 nued ; " we have never been to this place, con- 
 tenting ourselves with sending forward a friend, 
 indeed a relative, to take charge of it for us ; 
 the urchin was by that friend despatched from 
 the neighbourhood, chiefly to guide us hither ; 
 now that he has disappeared, we only know that 
 the residence is in the vicinity of CushindoU, I 
 think." 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 71 
 
 " And on such imperfect information, would 
 it be well to wander about in such a night?" 
 asked the youth, " see, the rain begins to 
 thicken ; we can offer you a roof, though an 
 humble one." 
 
 " And, however humble, it is certain, and to 
 be gained in a certain time," added his sister. 
 " Good lady, consent ; you are not formed for 
 ill weather." 
 
 Esther did consent, and her brother too ; 
 and the young girl then asked, " Edmund, what 
 think you of sending our poor uncle to an- 
 nounce us at GlenarrifF?" Edmund assented ; 
 she made a few signs to the dumb man, who, 
 the moment he understood the nature of the 
 arrangement, showed the most excessive symp- 
 toms of gratification and welcome-making ; and 
 then, though by no means a young man, he 
 hurried off at a very rapid and buoyant pace, 
 leaving his nephew to conduct slowly, over the 
 rough mountain road, the fatigued and frighten- 
 ed party. 
 
72 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Immediately after crossing Garron Point, and 
 falling, as before observed, nearly to the level 
 of the sea, the road, following the indentures of 
 the coast, turned quickly to the right, almost at 
 a right angle with its former course, and held 
 that line for a considerable way ; thus describ- 
 ing one side, and the longest one of Red Bay, 
 of which the figure is, very nearly, three sides 
 of a square. All along this line the travellers 
 kept parallel to the inland continuation of the 
 point ; but at the next sudden and angular turn 
 which followed, nearly to its edge, the second 
 side of the bay, their backs were to that chain 
 of mountain and precipice, their right hands to 
 the open bay, and their left to a spacious val- 
 ley, made on the one side by the running, still 
 more inland, of the continuation of Garron 
 Point, and on the other by a range of hills, of 
 equal, if not superior magnitude. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER, 73 
 
 After pursuing for some time this course, 
 their conductor halted and informed the party, 
 that with Httle deviation their present road 
 would bring them, round the bay, to Cushin- 
 doll ; but that they must again turn to the left, 
 into the glen, to insure the asylum he had of- 
 fered them. He added that the glen road was 
 less fatiguing, and, indeed, less dangerous than 
 that by which they must go in search of their 
 own residence. Accordingly, all turned off the 
 coast with him. 
 
 Nearly at the moment of thus changing their 
 route, they were faced by considerable preci- 
 pices of earth and soft stone, which fell down 
 upon the road they should have taken to 
 their cottage, forming its left-hand limit, and, 
 for some distance running with it, and at their 
 bases shewing two or three large excavations, 
 the work of the adjacent sea, when at some 
 former period its tides and storms had perse- 
 veringly lashed the precipice that must then 
 have been its boundary. Through the larger 
 of these caves issued a red glare of light, which, 
 from the dimmed effect at the entrance, seemed 
 to come a good way from the inside, and thus 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
74 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 gave the idea of a rather extensive interior. In 
 turning upon the glen road, the travellers were 
 leaving to their right, and a little behind them, 
 these caves, when a voice was heard in that 
 from which the light appeared, speaking loudly 
 and dictatorially, but in a language unknown to 
 the strangers of the party. Immediately after, 
 the light increased in the mouth of the excava- 
 tion : and finally the figure of a woman ap- 
 proached from the entrance, with a piece of 
 flaming wood in her hand, continuing to speak, 
 and now evidently addressing the group. 
 
 " We may just stop and speak to her, Ed- 
 mund," said the young girl, " for the rain blows 
 off." 
 
 " Why ?" asked Evelyn, " and why does she 
 speak to us ?" 
 
 " She asks us," Edmund replied, translating 
 literally from the Irish in which the woman had 
 addressed them, " on pain of the anger of her 
 whose anger is a cloud and a blast, not to pass 
 her house without bidding, God save her." 
 
 " And this cavern is her house ? who or 
 what is she ? and why this unusual interrup- 
 tion ?" 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 75 
 
 " She is a creature without friend or relation, 
 fortune or home, except that the charitable or 
 credulous administer to her wants, and that this 
 sea-cave, whence she has lately expelled the 
 owls and bats, affords her a chilly shelter. 
 What she thinks of herself, and what others 
 concur in thinking her, it would not be for her 
 safety to declare ; for my own part, I some- 
 times think her mad, although more close ob- 
 servation banishes the idea : perhaps to ex- 
 treme ignorance her mind joins much enthusi- 
 asm and more cunning ; and hence is she able 
 to impress the character she generally bears, 
 and to which, for your information, I have, 
 doubtless, sufficiently alluded." 
 
 During this speech, the woman had advanced 
 to meet, half way, the party who were in mo- 
 tion to her. In age she was about twenty-five. 
 In height rather tall, in person slight, in feature 
 spare and pallid. Her black hair was unco- 
 vered, and over the vulgar female dress, that 
 scarce ever varies in any time or country, fell 
 the old Irish mantle, heavily hooded, and of a 
 dark colour. Having stood before the young 
 man, her flaming brand held up, she asked him. 
 
76 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 in Irish, to bid God save her. He did so. She 
 made the same request, with the same success, 
 of his sister, and then turned to Mrs. Evelyn ; 
 but that lady's " go, woman, go," uttered half 
 in fear, half in anger and disgust, was all she 
 could in this instance accomplish. As to Paul, 
 he was completely silent. 
 
 " Then," said the woman in Irish, " the hea- 
 viest suiFering you can both feel, be upon ye !— 
 Starve !" — and she turned from them. The 
 young man and his sister, who understood what 
 she had uttered, laughing at a malediction that, 
 to all appearance, could never have effect; but 
 neither Mrs. Evelyn nor her husband felt so 
 comfortable, when it was translated for their 
 advantage. 
 
 The strange woman passed Oliver without 
 stopping to command his benison, as if she 
 made very light of it, and once more halted be- 
 fore Esther, holding high in her hand the blaz- 
 ing wood, in order to afford herself a good 
 view of the young lady's face, who, it will be 
 remembered, was on horseback. But no sooner 
 had she got a glimpse of Esther's features, than 
 she uttered a low howl, and running back to 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 77 
 
 Edmund, spoke to him in a very animated tone 
 and manner, as if endeavouring to impress some- 
 thing, which he seemed either careless or un- 
 willing to admit. Again she returned to Es- 
 ther, and again manifested the same unaccount- 
 able sensation. Finally, she stood before Eve- 
 lyn, and with more respectful demeanor than 
 she had hitherto shewn, asked, and under the 
 instructions of Edmund, received his " God 
 save you ;" — and then she continued to speak 
 in Irish, which we still translate. 
 
 " Now go your ways, and let nothing fright 
 you thro' the clouds of the night ; I have your 
 good word, and it will rest with me ; they say it 
 does not rest with me, and that I often need it, 
 from the Christians, to charm me against what 
 does : — go your ways, — unless that you cross 
 the cold threshold of my house, and taste the 
 cup, or break the bread, to speed you on your 
 road, or sit down with the old and crippled who 
 talk to me all nicrht lon^r and tell me what I 
 should not listen to, tho' 'tis known I do." 
 
 " And who are they, Onagh?" asked Ed- 
 mund. 
 
 " One, that, when I came to my house, I 
 
to THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 found already in it ; and another that was sent 
 far to us : but go your ways since you will not 
 enter ; go, with a curse for some, a sorrow for 
 more, and a late blessing for a few !" — she 
 walked slowly and heavily to her cavern, thus 
 leaving behind her a prophecy, that, inspira- 
 tion apart, any one might venture to apply to 
 the future fortimes of any half dozen of human 
 beings. 
 
 The party entered the fine and solitary valley 
 of GlenarrifF, just as the moon was fully risen 
 to faintly shew as much of its general aspect as 
 mist and shadow did not envelope. A short 
 distance up the glen, Edmund and his sister 
 were rather startled by the re-appearance at 
 their side, of Onagh of the cavern ; they had 
 for a moment fallen behind the party, and 
 she came up with them unperceived by the 
 strangers. 
 
 " What means this, Onagh?" asked Ed- 
 mund. 
 
 " I speak not to him," she replied, address- 
 ing his sister, *' for he has already scorned my 
 words; but you, Eva McDonnell, who, tho' 
 you love and like me not, have ever shewn the 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 79 
 
 open hand to Onagh, you I command to re- 
 mind him of my warning; tell him it is the very 
 face I saw, tho' he could not see it, last All- 
 hallow-Eve, when, together, we sowed the rape- 
 seed by the river-side, while the moon was 
 shining for us ; and tell him to shun that face." 
 " What face, Onagh ? and what warning am 
 I to repeat to my brother ?" 
 
 " He will remember it ; for yourself, Eva, — " 
 she took the young girl's hand, drew her aside, 
 and added in a low whisper — " your fate is near 
 you, too, but you need not shun it; you will 
 love him, and you may." 
 
 " Absurd !" Eva said, and was about to add 
 more comment, when the self-important Onagh 
 rapidly left her. 
 
 " Dear brother, what of all this ?" she then 
 asked, rejoining Edmund. 
 
 " I care not ; nor should you care to know or 
 ask, Eva ; certainly not now, when yon stran- 
 gers require our guidance to the Strip of Burne; 
 let us forward to them." 
 
 Up to this moment Evelyn had been observ- 
 ing the features of the glen, so far as they were 
 partially revealed by the moon-light. Close at 
 
80 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 the right, arose from the very level of the road, 
 piles of swelling ground, upon which, mid-way, 
 a thick white mist rested, but not so steadily as 
 to withhold, when occasionally agitated by the 
 high wind, faint indications of immense preci- 
 pices, shooting up behind into the superior 
 clouds. On the left, the ground fell to the bot>- 
 tom of the glen, until it met a river, of which he 
 could get some sparkling glimpses, and hear 
 some rippling sounds : and beyond the river, 
 up rose, again, vast mountain swells ; the grey 
 mist, interrupting here, too, a continued view 
 of their utmost ascents; or, as at the other 
 side, only permitting a dreamy glance of cold 
 pale summits, half touched by the moonshine. 
 Straight onward, the glen spread out and ran 
 to a distance ; its sides, as they curved, appear- 
 ing to meet, and the moon settling, with an 
 undisturbed breadth of light, on the top of a 
 distant hill that seemed to close the grand and 
 silent, and shadowy vista. 
 
 As he looked down the valley, Evelyn's ob- 
 servations were broken by the glare of a num- 
 ber of lights, and the sound of many voices. 
 
 " Yonder is the Strip of Burne," said Ed- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 81 
 
 mund M'Donnell, " and these are my father's 
 people come out to welcome us : but let my fa- 
 ther's son first have the honor of welcoming you 
 to a home too humble for your apparent rank, 
 and, indeed, for the early fortunes of his own 
 family." 
 
 The lad, with a blush so positive as to be 
 visible even in the imperfect light, yet with 
 a grace and ease that more than balanced such 
 a departure from courtly manners, took off his 
 Scotch bonnet, and bowed separately to the 
 travellers. 
 
 " And you, lady," said Eva, " welcome and 
 all possible joy to a night's rest under a roof 
 that I am still too proud to call too humble ;" — 
 she gracefully waved her hand, and Esther 
 stooped from her saddle to kiss the young girl's 
 cheek. 
 
 " Our father himself is, as he should be, at 
 the head of his own people," Eva resumed, as 
 the advancing party came up ; and soon, in- 
 deed, the old man was visible, with his dumb 
 brother by his side, his white head uncovered, 
 his hale, fresh-coloured cheeks, glowing with 
 vinusual brightness, and his mild and still fine 
 E 3 
 
82 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 eyes, anticipating the expression of the senti- 
 ments he was about to speak. Bending low to 
 the strangers, he first uttered a sentence in 
 Irish, — which Edmund thus rendered. 
 
 " My father says, that, while he joyfully wel- 
 comes you to a house he might once have been 
 ashamed of, he blesses the day on which his 
 brother and son, going out to shoot the sea- 
 fowl, have been so happy and honoured as to 
 do you a service." 
 
 While Mrs. Evelyn, her husband, and Oli- 
 ver held profound, and it might be, uncourte- 
 ous silence, the younger strangers fitly express- 
 ed themselves in return to this address ; then 
 the rude-looking kerne in attendance, shouted 
 joyfully ; old M'Donnell taking Evelyn's hand, 
 led, with the other, Esther's palfrey ; his son 
 led the horse that bore Mrs. Evelyn and Oli- 
 ver; the dumb man took in charge Paul and 
 his steed ; and the two united parties proceed- 
 ed to the " Strip of Burne." 
 
 This name seemed to be given to a spot of 
 broken, though not very abrupt ground, lying, 
 as Evelyn could indistinctly observe, imme- 
 diately under a tremendous precipice, perhaps 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 83 
 
 the steepest part of the range they had found 
 on their right since entering the glen. A small 
 streamlet made way through a deep channel, 
 strewn with rocks, in the middle of this ground, 
 evidently deriving itself from the heights above ; 
 and on the near side of it, stood the lone resi- 
 dence of the McDonnells, a thatched dwelling of 
 about three times the size of those inhabited 
 by the peasantry of the country, with a few 
 pines and mountain-ash behind, that, at diffe- 
 rent heights, found root in the barren soil, or 
 in the crevices of the rock. The house was 
 nearly at the edge of the road by which it was 
 approached, and some distance from the preci- 
 pice. 
 
 With repeated and yet not irksome assur- 
 ances of welcome, the strangers entered a large 
 apartment, that seemed to serve as kitchen and 
 common residence, except during the hours of 
 rest, to the servants as well as to the heads 
 of the family. At the end blazed a turf-fire, 
 lighted on the hearth, and finding vent up a ca- 
 pacious chimney, over and about which hung, 
 interspersed with sides of bacon and haunches 
 of dried venison, many old swords and pistols, 
 
84' THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 otter-skins, fox-brushes, and the antlers of the 
 deer. Along the walls were a dresser, contain- 
 ing the then necessary articles of culinary and 
 table equipage, two rudely-shaped presses, a 
 few chairs, as rudely fashioned, and a range of 
 forms. The floor was earthen ; and, overhead, 
 appeared the joists, wattles, and thatch, as 
 naked as the interior of a peasant's cabin, with 
 the sole difference, that they were not blackened 
 and festooned with smoke and soot. Other- 
 wise, from its extent, furniture, und particularly 
 cleanliness, the apartment bore little resem- 
 blance to the more humble huts that were 
 sparingly strewed in the district about it. 
 
 At the fire, an old woman, assisted, or rather 
 interrupted by one or two wenches, comely and 
 bare -legged, was employed in cooking; and 
 around her, at, by no means a respectful dis- 
 tance, sat some men, retainers or servants of 
 the family, who had not, for special reasons, 
 accompanied old M'Donnell to meet the stran- 
 gers. The hobs were also occupied. On one 
 reposed a tall, gaunt man, about sixty years of 
 age, whose haggard face and sunken eye be- 
 spoke an ill state of health, while his manner, 
 
THE BOVNE WATER. S5 
 
 and a slight peculiarity in his dress, betokened 
 a person distinct from, if not superior to those 
 around him ; and on the other^ his knees crip- 
 pled up to his chin, a large piece of oaten-cake 
 in his hand, and his jaws employed with the 
 celerity of those of a rabbit in making way 
 through it, sat the chief cause of almost all the 
 delays and perils that had overtaken the stran- 
 gers — the donkey's guardian. 
 
 The moment Evelyn entered, the Uttle ras- 
 cal's eyes met his, and he instantly ceased the 
 rapid motions of his jaws, looking as conscious 
 as a monkey detected amid the sweets of a 
 pantry. Evelyn instantly closed on him, whip 
 in hand, with an angry query as to the cause of 
 his sudden disappearance at Garron Point ; 
 but ere he proceeded to inflict any real punish- 
 ment, the boy flippantly explained, that hav- 
 ing first run for his Ufe from, as he called it, 
 " the muckle mirk cloud," a proceeding that no 
 gentle or Christian could blame him for — he 
 thought his better plan then was to hasten to 
 Evelyn's uncle Jeremiah, who kept possession 
 of the cottage at Cushindoll, and inform him 
 of the distress of his friends ; that, Jeremiah 
 
86 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 being out, (he believed supping with the priest), 
 he was returning to Evelyn, accompanied by 
 friends of his own, when, passing by Onagh's 
 house, he saw the party, along with their new 
 acquaintances, whom he knew well, speaking to 
 her ; and that not liking to come in her way, he 
 Just bid his friends good night, and ran on to 
 Randall McDonnell's house, whither, he plainly 
 perceived, all were travelling. 
 
 This statement appearing, on the whole, rea- 
 sonable, Evelyn spared his hand, and as the 
 imp, w^ith a self-praising chuckle, recommenced 
 his attack on the oaten-cake, he turned to his 
 host to request from him a guide, by whose 
 assistance he might immediately visit his uncle 
 Jeremiah, and ascertain at the same time whe- 
 ther or no the road between them permitted a 
 speedy departure to his own cottage, in which, 
 if possible, he w^as now determined, with his 
 friends, to lodge for the night. At this intimation, 
 when he understood it, old McDonnell looked 
 blank, his son looked grieved, and his daughter 
 haughty ; and the dumb man, as soon as he 
 read their countenances, looked every kind of 
 extreme astonishment, anxiety, and it seemed 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 87 
 
 impatience, if not anger. Mrs. and Miss Eve- 
 lyn, with uncle Paul, just entering, he sprung 
 to the fire, at which, as before noticed, some 
 men were seated, hurled them from it to the 
 other end of the apartment, returned to the la- 
 dies, and seizing a hand of each, led them to 
 the seats the former had occupied. Uncle 
 Paul he also twirled to a seat at the blaze, 
 with a hospitable energy rather inconsiderate ; 
 and, finally, having placed Oliver on the hob, 
 w^ith the boy, and Eva by the side of Esther, 
 he took his station at the back of his brother, 
 seemingly in a mood at once offended and de- 
 termined. 
 
 But, for the time, disapprobation or entreaty 
 were equally ineffectual to prevail on Evelyn to 
 alter his plan. He averred that, all along, it 
 had been his intention to avail hiniself of the 
 hospitality of M'Donnell's roof, only during 
 the time necessary to ascertain the situation of 
 his own, and whether or no he could that night 
 properly conduct his sister to it; perhaps his 
 glance at the seeming want of accommodation 
 for so large a party, might have served to con- 
 firm this resolve ; and perhaps he was further 
 
S8 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 assisted in it by a disposition naturally distant, 
 averse to accept unnecessary favours, and fixed 
 in its bent by an English education. So, with 
 a manner that appeared somewhat churlish, 
 though he was really unconscious of the appear- 
 ance, Evelyn, pressing his request for a guide, 
 obtained one in the person of the dumb man, 
 whose offer of service was voluntary, and not to 
 be refused. 
 
 Both instantly got on horseback, and retra- 
 cing the road through the glen, passed Onagh's 
 cavern, and then encountered an up-and-down 
 and rock-strewn road, which, ere Evelyn had 
 half mastered it, made him speedily come to the 
 opinion, that, until morning, and recovery from 
 her previous terrors and fatigue, he dare not 
 venture to convey Esther to her own home. An 
 interview with his uncle Jeremiah he was, how- 
 ever, resolved to obtain, and therefore continued 
 on to the little hamlet of Cushindoll, then a 
 few wretched cabins, lying at the bottom of the 
 rugfxed ascents over which he and his dumb 
 guide had, for some time, been journeying, al- 
 though the curious traveller of the present day 
 will find it a smart, neat village, with, by the 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 89 
 
 way, more than usual facilities to " take his 
 ease in his inn ;" with a smooth sea-shore road 
 leading to it, sometimes cut through vast rocks, 
 or having them scooped out into an archway 
 over his head ; and, altogether, holding out to 
 him the attraction of one of the most delightful 
 residences on one of the grandest coasts in the 
 world. 
 
 Before leaving his brother's home, the dumb 
 man had understood, on the report of the boy, 
 that he was first to lead Evelyn to the priest's 
 house, in search of his uncle. Thither he ac- 
 cordingly bent his course, Evelyn, though all 
 along not without a mixture of vexation, misgiv- 
 ing, and a sense of the ludicrous, passively fol- 
 lowing in his track. 
 
 They gained and dismounted before a thatch- 
 ed dwelling, which bore, however, some ap- 
 pearance of comfort and neatness superior to 
 the cabins around it, having a wall in front, 
 with a cross-barred gate, that the visitors found 
 well secured. The dumb man knocked loudly, 
 but no one came in answer ; he knocked again 
 and again, and still they remained at the wrong 
 side of the house ; until, losing all patience, he 
 
90 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 tied his own and Evelyn's horse to the gate, 
 and rapidly beckoning him to follow, approached 
 the back of the cottage, where, by a style, he 
 introduced himself into a little kitchen-garden, 
 and through it, to a poultry-yard and back- 
 door. 
 
 The moment Evelyn entered the garden, he 
 heard his uncle Jeremiah's cracked voice per- 
 forming, at its loudest pitch, a favorite song, of 
 which the well known chorus ran as follows : 
 
 " So let old ship go up or down, 
 
 And her flag be of red, or black, or brown, 
 
 Blazing away, or sailing merrilie. 
 
 Merry, merry, ever let her jolly-hands be." 
 
 In this he was faintly, and as if only courteously 
 joined by a voice, still more cracked than his 
 own, although, between them, they made a 
 good shrill chorus of it ; and at the end two 
 persons might be heard quaffing, separately, a 
 long draught, and afterwards smacking their lips. 
 Evelyn's conductor seemed, almost as soon 
 as himself, to become aware, though it was hard 
 to tell how, of the scene that was going on 
 within; for he had scarce entered the yard, 
 when, pointing to an open window, through 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 91 
 
 which hght issued, he made signs to his fol- 
 lower to step cautiously ; and setting the exam- 
 ple he wished to have imitated, stole towards 
 the window, with strange convulsions of feature, 
 that betokened great, though checked dehght. 
 Both thus gained a spot from which, unseen, 
 they might easily observe those inside. 
 
 Evelyn's uncle Jeremiah sat, with his jovial 
 side-face to them, at a small table, on which 
 was provision for the good-humour he so ear- 
 nestly inculcated. A little man he was, clad in 
 a sailor's tight-bodied blue cloth dress, gathered 
 round the hips into something of the shape of a 
 kilt, and just allowing to be seen the origin of 
 his Jersey carnation stockings, with great clocks 
 in them : a little man, nearly as short and as 
 round as his brother Paul, and having, like 
 him, a button-nose, studded with grey bristles ; 
 but in the twinkle of his merry and sensual 
 black eye ; in the half gaping, bacchanalian ex- 
 pression of his mouth ; in his placid forehead, 
 hale, weather-tanned cheeks, and long, white 
 locks, despising a periwig, as well as in the well- 
 braced air of his limbs and body, no further 
 likeness appeared. 
 
92 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 Opposite to him sat his host, seemingly an 
 unwilling one ; a very little man, too, as chance 
 would have it ; nearly twice the age of his 
 guest ; that is, he could not be less than ninety; 
 his features of a large, intellectual order ; his 
 head, (covered with a black skull-cap, of some 
 hard rough substance, having an iron ring in 
 the top, large enough for a trap-door,) sunk be- 
 tween his shoulders ; his neck and body stoop? 
 ed; and a violent palsy shaking every joints 
 limb, and part of his body. This old gentle- 
 man seemed, we say, as if he had not invited 
 Jerry that evening; as if the visit at supper- time 
 had been unlocked for and unwelcome ; but, 
 now that the matter was to be got over, also as 
 if he strove to make a virtue of a necessity; and 
 lastly, as if it was not in his nature or habits 
 to express chagrin or dislike in an uncourteous 
 manner. 
 
 " That 's a spice of a good song, holy bro- 
 ther," continued Jeremiah, ^' tho' it be none of 
 thy business to say me yea ; ye would fain ever 
 hold us sorrowful, ye chaplains, with your 
 preaching up a bit of a good Hfe; never, a 
 hearty one ; — but hark thee again — 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 93 
 
 *' The black-gown swears 'tis wail and woe, 
 And raves if we drink and doubt him ; 
 But let him to his prayers go. 
 
 And we '11 be merry without him ; 
 For a merry, merry, we will ever be, 
 Tho' he lay on his back at the bottom of the sea ;" — 
 
 " Never meaning so much of your reverence, 
 seeing that thou art a hearty old mate, too good 
 to work ship with the galley-foist crew of 'em ; 
 and seeing, moreover, that I be merry here, this 
 night, under favour of thy locker ; fill, brother," 
 " Fill thou for me, admiral," answered his 
 host, " and mind not my cloth if I pledge thee. 
 I dislike two things in this mortal estate ; sin, 
 first — austerity, second ; with mayhap, a third, 
 and that is an over-indulgence in good Hquor ; 
 but for a healthful cup, especially when the 
 blood grows old, and requireth gentle nour- 
 ishing, why, I can give it or take it. I have 
 seen France —ah, helle France — her velvet cla- 
 ret is worth our three kingdoms ; and even 
 there found reasonable potations an esteemed 
 fashion. I have seen the world, near to one of 
 its crazy centuries, and never found any but 
 fools or knaves to say it was bad ; and does not 
 king Solomon himself aver that no pleasure 
 
94 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 surpasseth in the heart of man, that of fair 
 wine, with the face of a friend — Bouvez /" 
 
 With these words of mixed encouragement 
 and caution, the fine old gentleman surrounded 
 his cup with his ever-shaking hands, and scarce 
 venturing to lift it from the table, gradually bore 
 down his lips to the brim, at last made a suc- 
 cessful lodgement on it, and then quaffed the 
 grateful beverage. 
 
 " A voire saute, Monsieur le cure,'' replied 
 Jeremiah, in broken French, which, along with 
 scraps of many other tongues, he had picked up 
 during his roaming life : at the same time that 
 he drained to the dregs his own mantling mea- 
 sure ; " and I havfe seen France, holy brother, 
 and mayhap touched at Portugal and the Ca- 
 naries, to speak nought of a bit of a cruize about 
 the main, long before I turned skipper to bro- 
 ther Paul, where, peradventure, I saw spilt 
 some good red stuff, that was not red wine, nei- 
 ther — but let that pass ; a closed mouth mars 
 no secrets ; I was only a saying, that wherever 
 old ship tacked — whosoever were my mates, 
 Dutch, English, French, or^ — no matter whom 
 — let it pass, I say ; a good flagon and a pretty 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 95 
 
 face — no treason meant, though your reverence 
 guess of what sex— and, ' hearty and merry for 
 .ever and a day,' (singing) that was my word, 
 and never have I seen the man I could love, that 
 did not steer by just such another — fill, I en- 
 treat thee, brother." 
 
 " Thou shalt fill thine own cup for mine, this 
 round, admiral, if it be not irksome," answered 
 his host, vainly hoping to convey a hint in a 
 hospitable guise. 
 
 " Think not of it, holy brother, I would obli- 
 gate thee more, in the way of a real service, cre- 
 dit me ;" and Jerry's cup was again filled and 
 emptied ; " but," sounding it against the table, 
 as if to provoke anew some courteous entreaty, 
 " touching pretty faces, saw'st thou ever such a 
 a lack of 'em as is encountered in this northern 
 country ?" 
 
 " What, sir !" cried his host, very simply tak- 
 ing fire at any, no matter what shght, cast on 
 the place of his birth and affections ; while his 
 disguised impatience of his guest, assisted, per- 
 haps the sudden humour. Jeremiah went on. 
 
 " Why, beshrew my merry heart, if I met, 
 from Lough Neagh to this port, a bit of a sail 
 
96 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 that was worth the haiUng ; not one that an old 
 seaman would board for the asking ; to say 
 nought of a chase, which all the world knows is 
 the very sweet of the action ; credit me, holy " 
 brother, never met I on any sea, except, mayhap, 
 while we touched at the Cape — such ill-built, 
 ill-rigged, ill~mizened — " 
 
 " What, what the deuce, sir !" again inter- 
 rupted his host, looking flushed and angry, 
 while excitement added to the palsy of his 
 hands and arms, as he strove to gesticulate with 
 them, " what would'st thou say ? pretty faces ! — 
 Sir, I will get thee, in my own parish — sir, if 
 thou hast the grace to attend my congregation, 
 the next sabbath, I will shew thee such features 
 — such faces, angel ones, divine ones !" the sim- 
 ple-hearted old man went on, unconscious of the 
 questionable zeal with which he expressed his 
 raptures, and volunteered his services — " Yes, 
 sir, and this moment have I under my roof, a 
 cherub, sir, my own great grand-niece — whose 
 mother — and whose mother's mother — here, 
 Peggy ! and whose aunts, sir, and relativesy to 
 the twentieth — Peggy, I say !" 
 
 While speaking, the old gentleman arose to 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 97 
 
 approach the interior door, as a light foot came 
 tripping from the remote part of the house to- 
 wards it; but a stop was put to his further 
 speech and demonstrations, by a prodigious 
 laugh, of unnatural sound, which burst from 
 the dumb man, just outside the window ; and 
 at nearly the same moment, Evelyn knocked at 
 the back door. The host started ; and ere 
 he would reply to the knocking, strove, request- 
 ing Jeremiah's assistance, to huddle together 
 and remove out of view, all evidences of unsea- 
 sonable merry-making ; Jeremiah only tardily 
 assisting, however, and repeatedly urging the 
 retaining, without ceremony or pother, in the 
 face of any serious fellow who might enter, the 
 means and the disposition to be merry. 
 
 When the door was at last opened, the dumb 
 man pushing in first, and receiving a hearty 
 welcome from the priest, to whom he was known, 
 proceeded to acquaint him, in his own language, 
 with the cause of the visit of Evelyn and him- 
 self. While thus engaged, the young gentle- 
 man also entered, and advanced with, a grave 
 brow to greet his uncle Jeremiah. 
 
 *-A-hoy! ship, a-hoy ! welcome, nephew, 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
98 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 welcome to port !" cried the really good-hearted 
 little sailor, grasping his hand ; " what — art thou 
 hearty, man ? art thou merry? — eh ! what's to do 
 here ? no, hearty nor merry thou art not — is all 
 square and tight, eh ? how's Essy ? safe in port 
 too ? eh, nephew ?" 
 
 " I fear, uncle Jerry, any evil might have be- 
 fallen her, or any of us, while you were revel- 
 ling it here, instead of looking out for us on the 
 road, or, at least, remaining to welcome us in, 
 for the time, your own house." 
 
 " Tut, now, be not serious, goodman nephew; 
 thou knowest I hate it, and thou wert wont to 
 be the last to bear a hard hand ; uncle Jerry I 
 may be, a poor tar paid off without pension, 
 and threatened with the hulks ; but no matter 
 for that — 
 
 " While his name is Jerry, he will be merry. 
 
 Without a sous iu poke, still merry, merry Jerry." 
 
 " Thou knowest I hate it ; and thou knowest, 
 too, I could not tell when thou might'st ha' hov^ 
 in view ; an' as to manning the new sloop by my- 
 self, and looking out a-head, day and night, 
 for the whole fleet o' you, beshrew my heart, 
 *twas what would never do me no great good ; 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 99 
 
 SO I even scuttled across to the chaplain, here, 
 to rack off a little ; and every one must rack 
 off, a little, now and then ; 'tis natural, isn't it ?" 
 
 The clergyman, having derived sufficient in- 
 formation of the case from the conversation of 
 the uncle and nephew, as well as from the mute 
 statement of the dumb man, advanced to pay 
 his respects to Evelyn ; regretting that his poor 
 house — 
 
 But here he was unseasonably interrupted by 
 his dumb friend, who, first shaking violently by 
 the hand the astonished and yet pleased Jerry, 
 ran to the very cupboard in which the bottle 
 and wine-cups had been deposited, and with 
 extravagant gestures and cries, meant to be a 
 pleasant attack on the priest's caution, replaced 
 them on the table, sat down, and motioned all 
 to join him in a hearty draught. Evelyn re- 
 quested their host to express his disinclination 
 to a carouse, on account of his great anxiety to 
 return to his sister ; but Jerry, his eyes fixed 
 on his new acquaintance, in admiration of his 
 movements, readily took a seat at the table. 
 
 " Be not surprised at his manner," said the 
 old clergyman, supposing Jerry's attentive ob- 
 F 2 
 
100 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 servation to proceed from misgiving, of some 
 kind, and not — as it really did — from pure de- 
 light — " the man is deaf and dumb, but harm- 
 less." 
 
 " Be he deaf as a mast, and dumb as the 
 sea in a calm, I say he is hearty ; your health, 
 my tight lad," Jerry continued, nodding gra- 
 ciously a full cup in hand to his companion, who 
 returned the salutation with many, many nods, 
 and many grimaces, too, of excessive pleasure. 
 
 But this could not last. A few words of em- 
 phatic request from Evelyn, and uncle Jerry 
 was soon sprawling on the back of the priest's 
 horse, attending his nephew and guide, back 
 again to the Strip of Burne. 
 
 They had scarce begun to ascend the first 
 toilsome, and, now and then, perilous inequali- 
 ties on their road, when a stranger, also on 
 horseback, joined them at a brisk trot. By the 
 light of the moon, he appeared to be a young 
 man of about Evelyn's own age, but shorter, 
 perhaps, and slighter, with a pale face, and 
 features, which, although not by any means of 
 a handsome cast, yet wore an impression of 
 grave, abstracted, and intellectual melancholy. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 101 
 
 that was interesting. At his back hung some- 
 thing enveloped in a dark cloth. " The blessing 
 of the night on ye," he said, as he drew up and 
 joined the party. 
 
 " This fellow is not hearty," said uncle Jere- 
 miah, after looking in his face ; and again, when 
 he had seen the appendage at his back — " a 
 poor serious pedlar, I reckon." 
 
 But the dumb guide cried out joyfully, the 
 moment he perceived the stranger, and stretched 
 forth his hand to greet him ; and, as soon as he 
 heard the cry, the young man as joyfully shook 
 the proffered hand, and said — 
 
 " Ah, my poor Con McDonnell, is it you? — 
 Dieu-uth, Dieu-uth, and God look down on 
 you!" 
 
 " Do you take our road, friend?'* asked 
 Evelyn. 
 
 " If your road hes straight to RandaU 
 McDonnell's house, in the glen, as I suppose 
 it does, by finding this afflicted creature in your 
 company, then we are to be together," answered 
 the stranger. 
 
 " I am glad of it," resumed Evelyn, " as, how- 
 
102 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 ever good his intentions may be, it is rather 
 comfortless to be guided on such a road as this, 
 by a man deaf and dumb." 
 
 " He has a quick eye, sir," said their new 
 comrade. 
 
 " Doubtless, sir ; but I should prefer the 
 guidance of one that can speak to me with suf- 
 ficient plainness and quickness to point out a 
 danger ; yourself, for instance." 
 
 " I shall do my best to serve you," resumed 
 the young man, smiling expressively, *'butdo 
 not depend on me too far." 
 
 " You know the road, do you not ?" asked 
 Evelyn. 
 
 " Well, sir, every stock and stone on it ; or 
 I could not venture out alone in such a wild 
 quarter." 
 
 " May I inquire if you are a native of this 
 part ?" still questioned Evelyn. 
 
 " No," answered the other, with a sigh that 
 spoke deep feelings and sad recollections of 
 home — " I was born far from the black north. 
 But, to begin my safe guiding, mind yourself, 
 now, sir," he continued, altering his tone—" as 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 103 
 
 we have got under the darkness of the rocks, 
 and there is a large black stone, hardly visible* 
 just to your right." 
 
 Evelyn looked and saw, indeed, by attentive 
 observation, the almost hidden danger. 
 
 *' Thanks," he then resumed ; " and you have 
 spoken but hghtly of your own ability as a 
 guide; for tho' Con McDonnell has, truly, a 
 keen eye, and tho' my own may serve a turn, I 
 should have been on that rock but for your 
 warning." 
 
 The young stranger smiled again with pecu- 
 liar meaning, and rejoined. " Be it as it may, 
 sir, I say I shall do my best to please you ; and 
 now, again, hold to the right as much as you 
 can ; for at this place the road has no left-hand 
 fence, and slants very suddenly, over the edge 
 of the hill ; but perhaps I had better lead the 
 way." 
 
 Spurring his horse, he accordingly took the 
 lead, and so continued, during the rest of the 
 journey to IVI'Donnell's house, occasionally ex- 
 horting Evelyn, over his shoulder, to pull up 
 in one place, and turn aside in another; and 
 Evelyn feeling, all along, much gratified to have 
 
104 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 at last, for a guide, a person who could intelli- 
 gibly point out dangers, and use his eyes so 
 well. 
 
 When all halted, together, at the Strip of 
 Burne, his guide fell back, to disengage from 
 its envelope, whatever it was that hung at his 
 shoulders. The noise of the horses' hoofs 
 brought out, to the door, old M'Donnell, his 
 son, and a crowd of people ; just as they ap- 
 peared, the young person had got a small harp 
 in hio hand ; he touched its chords ; they stood 
 as if spell-bound on the threshold — listened a 
 moment to catch a continuation of the air — then 
 at once recognised the visitor — and — 
 
 *' Carolan ! Carolan !" was shouted by every 
 voice — 
 
 ** Cead-mille-phalteaghi Carolan !" — 
 
 Evelyn's late judgment of the efficacy of his 
 guide's eyes, misgave him as the name struck on 
 his ear ; he had before heard — as who in Ireland 
 had not ? — of young Carolan, and always, as a 
 man blind from his early age ; now, by the full 
 light of the flaming stakes the men bore, he 
 gazed attentively at him ; the eye-balls of the 
 youthful bard were, indeed, blank ; and Evelyn 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 105 
 
 had the mortification to know, that he had 
 been indebted for safe guidance over a perilous 
 road, not merely to a dumb man, but to the 
 deaf and dumb, and to the blind, together. 
 
 *' Am I a good guide, sir ?" Carolan asked as 
 they entered the cottage, turning to him with 
 one of his expressive smiles. 
 
106 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 '* Carolan !" said Jeremiah, as all entered ; 
 ** a right hearty fellow, doubtless; I have heard 
 his name, and more than that of him, too ; — 
 there is Carolan's Receipt — a merry air as man 
 ever drank, or danced to; — master Carolan, your 
 hand." 
 
 Having received from the harper a warm re- 
 turn of his greeting, Jerry's eye lighted on 
 Esther ; and — " Aha, fair niece, bless the little 
 heart in its body, art thou well, woman?" he 
 went on, saluting her, chirpingly — " welcome 
 to port ; not yet safe landed, indeed ; but yon 's 
 land, and its only putting off in the jolly-boat 
 on the turn of tide to-morrow morning ;— eh — 
 art better? art merry? that 's the word. Sister 
 Janet, art thou hearty ?" 
 
 ** No, Jeremiah, I am wo^," answered the lady 
 bitterly, who, since his entrance, had been 
 
 " Nursing her wrath to keep it warm." 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. lOT 
 
 " Then thou might' st have been, for once in 
 a whole voyage, were it only to try how thou 
 hadst liked it — deep sea take my tongue to pipe 
 the word to her," he continued, between his 
 teeth, but still in pure good humour ; " when 
 she knows not even its meaning. Well, bro- 
 ther Paul," (cautiously) " art thou ?" " I be- 
 lieve," answered Paul, glancing inquiringly at 
 his spouse," I believe — I am, brother Jerry." 
 
 " Mary — come up and amen !" observed 
 Mrs. Evelyn, and why should not all ruffle it 
 bravely, who can, forsooth ?" 
 
 Jerry understood this allusion, but, for the 
 hundredth time, let it pass without any notice. 
 Just then, Carolan, after speaking a moment 
 with the other members of the family, ap- 
 proached Eva, his little harp in his hand, and 
 asking her, in a rallying tone, how many hearts 
 she had subdued since their last meeting, struck 
 up a sprightly air, which, he said, he had com- 
 posed while thinking of her, and of which the 
 accompanying words may be thus translated 
 from the Irish. 
 
 JNIy bright young eyes, my bright young eyes. 
 No earthly use they be; 
 
108 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 From morn to night they make no prize, 
 
 For none they ever see ; 
 IMy cherry lips, my rose-red cheek, 
 
 My bosom, lilly-white ; 
 No lover's heart for them will break, 
 
 For none comes mom or night ; 
 With my bright young eyes, my bright young eyes. 
 
 So swimming, soft, and blue. 
 My lips and cheeks and simple sighs — 
 
 What shall I, shall I do? 
 
 Supper was now laid out upon the table, and 
 old M'Donnell, standing at the head, pro- 
 nounced in Irish, and with much earnestness, 
 a thanksgiving. Immediately around him sat, 
 intermixed with the strangers, his brother, son, 
 and daughter. The table reached to the other 
 end of the extensive apartment, and at the 
 bottom, with a little space between them and 
 the party at the top, clustered almost all the 
 rude men who had attended M'Donnell up the 
 glen, together with those whom the travellers 
 had found in the house, the household women, 
 old and young, and him of the donkey. The 
 materials of the supper were, fresh red trout, 
 dried salmon, venison, from the deer-park of 
 Glenarm, and oaten cake and porridge, in su- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 109 
 
 perabundance ; qualified, at pleasure, by a stoup 
 of canary, and brandy and hollands of such a 
 flavour as Jerry well knew could have been had 
 only in a certain way. 
 
 The meal proceeded, if not in great order, at 
 least in harmony. Even Mrs. Evelyn, whose 
 nerves had been much outraged by witnessing 
 the cooking of it, and who could therefore pro- 
 mise herself little enjoyment from a participa- 
 tion in such a Scotch-Irish hodge-podge, si- 
 lently acknowledged to her own heart — assisted, 
 perhaps, in the concession by a keen appetite — 
 that, ultimately, it was worth tasting. The 
 meal was done — the table cleared — the cups 
 and horns filled to the brim ; and old McDon- 
 nell rose, and, with him, all his family and peo- 
 ple, to give — (Edmund supplying a transla- 
 tion)-— 
 
 " Welcome and honor to the strangers in 
 GlenarrifF!" He was pledged in a joyful echo 
 of voices that rose almost to a cheer. Again 
 the cups were mantling ; and again the old man 
 rose — 
 
 " Welcome and honor in Glenarriff to the 
 bard; may he that gives joy in song, never 
 know sorrow in the heart l" 
 
110 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 All, including the travellers, rose to ac- 
 knowledge this pledge also. Even the ladies 
 of the party, following the example of young 
 Eva, stood up and raised high their cups ; and 
 she- — the enthusiasm of her heart coming in 
 tears to her eyes — added, ere her lips touched 
 the brim — 
 
 " The praise of ladies and the honor of men ! 
 sorrow should not darken his soul, who can 
 change into pleasure the sorrow of others." 
 
 The old man looked fondly and proudly at 
 his daughter, and tears filled his own eyes ; 
 without speaking he extended his arms, drew 
 her towards him, and placing her head on his 
 shoulder, as he sat, and as, when she was more 
 a child, he used to do, then kissed her, and, 
 once more uplifting his cup, gave — 
 
 " Chorra-ma-cliree^ ma colleen .'" — ^' The 
 pulse of my heart, my child 1" 
 
 Evelyn, surprised into an enthusiasm rather 
 unusual, started to his feet, along with every 
 man present, and as Carolan exclaimed, and all 
 echoed him — '"' M'Donnell's only daughter — 
 the place and the wealth she has lost, for her ! — 
 a throne for her to do her honor !" — he drained 
 to the bottom his overflowing cup, and waved it. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. Ill 
 
 again and again. As he sat down, he caught 
 Eva's eye fixed on his, with a depth of expres- 
 sion that found way to his soul ; but, in an in- 
 stant, she removed her glance, kissed her fa- 
 ther's cheek, and resumed her seat at the table, 
 gracefully taking the hand of her new friend, 
 Esther. Carolan spoke on. We must be can- 
 did enough to declare, that we do not follow 
 him, word for word, as he delivered himself; 
 having rather advanced in boyhood before he 
 began to learn English, Carolan, to the time of 
 his death, spoke that language but indifferently; 
 and as other individuals of less interest than he, 
 may serve to illustrate the blunders — always at- 
 tended by a portion of the ridicidous — into 
 which one so situated must fall while endeavor- 
 ing, as he thinks in one tongue, and speaks in 
 another, to express the conceptions of a rapid 
 and poetical mind, we may be allowed so far to 
 shew our respect for the bard as to save him, 
 by passing over his verbal errors, the chance of 
 a dishonoring smile ; not wholly giving up, 
 meantime, the native phraseology of his dis- 
 course. Nearly as follows, then, he continued 
 to speak. 
 
112 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " For my own welcome, M'Donnell, thanks 
 to you and yours ; and thanks for the kind 
 wish, too ; — hut you know it is spoken in vain — 
 God frees none of his creatures, — the king no 
 more than the beggar — the bard no more than 
 him whose soul is dark to song — from the com- 
 mon lot of sorrow and suffering; you know why 
 I am away from the pleasant places, the hills 
 and rivers of my childhood — the only hills and 
 rivers I ever saw, or, now, can ever see I — you 
 know I am in the north, and in your house to- 
 night, because, for a time, I would strive to for* 
 get sorrow, by wandering far from the old 
 haunts and the old voices that make it ever flow 
 afresh ; you know that he who gave me the 
 song — that was the light to my clouded mind — 
 my old master, friend, and brother, is gone from 
 me ; you know that O'Kief is dead :" he added, 
 tears gushing quickly from his sightless eyes, 
 as, his voice sinking, he let his head fall on his 
 breast. 
 
 There was a pause, which no one interrupted 
 by a word ; the young bard's sorrows were too 
 sacred for common-place condolence. He con- 
 tinued — 
 
THE BOrNE WATER. 113 
 
 " We parted but one summer ; I came back 
 to meet him again ; to take his hand, to hear 
 his pleasant voice, to join him in the song again; 
 my heart was happy within me on the road ; I 
 felt the breeze blowing from his glen, fresher 
 on my brow than the breeze of any other spot 
 the sky covers ; at the turn of the church-yard 
 I met a peasant, and asked him for O'Kief ; * I 
 am looking on his grave,' he said, and wept." 
 
 Again there was an unbroken pause of some 
 length ; even the strangers of the party, with, 
 perhaps, one or two exceptions, sufficiently es- 
 timating what they heard, to pay it the proper 
 respect. The appearance alone, of all, con- 
 veyed their feeHngs. Eva, holding Esther by 
 one hand, had passed her left arm round her 
 neck ; and now while the pale cheeks of her 
 friend were covered with tears, and her head 
 drooped in the expression of the native softness 
 and tenderness of her character, Eva herself 
 looked wistfully at Carolan, through brimming 
 eyes, that scarce ever gave a full loose to wo- 
 manly showers. Old M'Donnell, sitting back 
 in his chair, turned away his face, as if in shame 
 of what he felt; Edmund had grasped the 
 
114 THE BOYNE AVATER. 
 
 young bard's arm, as they sat together, and— 
 his figure twisted almost round, — seemed close- 
 ly to watch his sorrow ; (they were affectionate 
 friends, and brother-minstrels, too, since Caro- 
 lan's arrival in the north;) Evelyn looked down- 
 ward, his hand resting on the table ; Con 
 M'Donnell gazed, like his niece, on the features 
 of the bhnd lad, plentiful tears rolling over his 
 harsh cheeks ; while the rude group, in their 
 mixed Irish and Scotch costume, leaning across 
 the board, also fixed their eyes on the same 
 .object, or else sorrowfully and expressively on 
 each other. Eva first spoke. 
 
 " Since the cause that brought Carolan to 
 our glen is sorrow to him, we must regret even 
 the coming of the joy of his harp, altho', else, 
 we should never have felt that joy." 
 
 " Is not the instrument well known in this 
 country ?" Evelyn ventured to ask. 
 
 " No," Eva replied ; ** the common music in 
 our glen is, I suppose on account of our old 
 Highland descent, the bag-pipe." 
 
 Evelyn, for the first time getting a clue to 
 many novel appearances of dress, manners, and 
 habits, which, in contrast with the general as- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 115 
 
 pect of the north, well known to him, had, in 
 this mountain district, forcibly struck him, 
 wished to continue his questions; but Eva- an- 
 ticipated it by more directly addressing the 
 young harper. 
 
 " Did your time pass pleasantly in the castle 
 of the old McDonnell of Glenarm, Carolan? — 
 and how is our noble cousin of Antrim ?" 
 
 " It was not that good lord's fault if my days 
 were clouded under his roof; and he is weD, 
 Eva, in peace, plenty, and a green old age." 
 
 " His lordship is also of Highland descent 
 then, being your relative ?" Evelyn inquired, 
 again endeavouring to lead the conversation. 
 
 " The answer is a long one," said Edmund, 
 " and involves the fortunes of our family. The 
 ancestor of the present Antrim, vSurlebuoy, or 
 yellow Charles, was a Scottish Highland chief- 
 tain, who, in the old feudal times, coming over 
 at the head of his clan, M'Dpnnell, wrested 
 from native possessors, what has since conti- 
 nued to be the property of his descendants, 
 and the descendants of his people." 
 
 " It was a great battle the two chieftains 
 fought," said Carolan, *' the battle of Orra ; 
 
116 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 and on the top of Orra mountain, only a few 
 miles from the house we sit in, the cairns of 
 those who fell are to be seen to this day. I 
 know a story, Edmund, about that battle ; it 
 was told me yesterday by the old lord. One. 
 of your name, and of his own name too, for you 
 are all M'Donnells, came suing to him for a 
 new grant of land, the first grant being worn 
 out ; the earl was fretted with something else, 
 and spoke short words to put the man off; but 
 he was not to be put off; he asked him the 
 boon again and again, saying he was a McDon- 
 nell ; the earl lost temper, and told him there 
 were too many M'Donnells ; but the man, fixing 
 his eyes on him, answered, * there were not too 
 many at the battle of Orra,' and so turned off 
 and left him." 
 
 " M'Donnell is not the right name," observed 
 the tall sickly-looking man we have before 
 taken notice of, when he sat on the hob; — he 
 spoke in Irish, which was translated for the 
 strangers, as we translate it for our readers; 
 " neither was Surlebuoy a true Highland chief- 
 tain, nor his clan, Highlanders. Here is the 
 story: The great grandfathers of those who 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 117 
 
 lost the lands to Surlebuoy, had, a long time be- 
 fore, taken the same lands from his great grand- 
 father, and driven him to the Highlands, with 
 his sept ; both were Irish septs, then, and the 
 conquered sept were O'Donnells, part of the 
 great O'Donnells of Innishowen, not McDon- 
 nells, but their children's children, and the chil- 
 dren of them again, living so long in the High- 
 lands, took the Scotch Mac, and laid down the 
 Irish O ; so that when Surlebuoy came over to 
 fight a battle for his right, he was a McDonnell, 
 instead of an O'Donnell ; sure he brought other 
 marks of the Highlands as well as that ; his phi- 
 Hbegs and his bonnets that are hardly yet worn 
 out ; and his half Gaelic Irish, to corrupt our 
 pure tongue." 
 
 " The words of Manus Oge have weight," 
 said Eva, addressing Evelyn, "he is a descend- 
 ant of the undoubted old Irish who, before the 
 battle of Orra, wholly possessed this glen ; his 
 fathers have, for centuries, been famous for cor- 
 rect tradition ; as authentic reciters of the poems 
 of Ossian, they are also celebrated ; and he in- 
 herits their lore and their character." 
 
 " However authentic his tradition may be as 
 
118 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 to the original derivation of our ancestors;" re- 
 sumed Edmund, " or the true sounding of our 
 name, I believe I have correctly informed this 
 gentleman of the manner in which the present 
 Antrim estate came into the hands of the first 
 known possessor. To continue: one of the 
 most powerful of Surlebuoy's clan, and one of 
 his nearest relatives, was the founder of our fa- 
 mily in Ireland. He received a good portion of 
 the conquered lands, after the chief had pos- 
 sessed himself of enough for an earldom. He 
 had his castle, his estate, and his own clan, a 
 short distance from our present home ; and 
 they continued in the hands of his successors, 
 descending to my father, the old man who sits 
 there before you, until Cromwell, because my 
 father fought for his liege king against a bigot- 
 ted and bloody conspiracy, took them from him, 
 and bestowed them up and down, upon some of 
 the very rabble of his army." 
 
 Young McDonnell began this statement with 
 the modesty, hesitation, and even blushes, which 
 marked his usual demeanour; but as he pro- 
 ceeded, his voice grew firm, his words flowed, 
 his mild blue eyes opened and kindled, his round 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 119 
 
 boyish cheeks reddened with a blush different 
 from that which usually dyed them, he sat 
 erect in his chair, shaking his yellow hair in 
 parted curls about his face and forehead, and, 
 in an instant, started into such interest and im- 
 portance of character, as fixed upon him the re- 
 gards of his whole auditory. 
 
 " Yes," Eva added, with calmer energy, 
 " and now, Edmund, you must touch your bon- 
 net, on your own lands, to the son of an old 
 trooper, and I must, that is, it is expected I 
 must, if I could, abase my eyes before a troop- 
 er's daughter." 
 
 '•' Anent that righteous division of lands," OH- 
 ver began, from the end of the table, when, the 
 moment he had so far proceeded. Con M'Don- 
 nell, directed by the eyes of the party, sprang 
 from his seat, gained his side, and seizing him fu- 
 riously by the arm with one hand, and with the 
 other covering his mouth, signified by shakings 
 of the head, frowns, and abominable grimaces, 
 that he should on no account utter another 
 word. 
 
 " This," Oliver tried to mumble notwith- 
 standing, " this is a plain" — but immediately 
 
120 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 experiencing such a shake by the arm as set 
 the bones rattling throughout his body, and 
 catching, at the same time, the expressive ob- 
 servations of the group of wild fellows who sat 
 about him, he held his tongue in good earnest, 
 contenting himself with despatching a long look 
 to Mrs. Evelyn, who sat as pale as death. The 
 dumb man then released his arm, and took a 
 seat by his side. 
 
 " But," Evelyn rejoined, too deeply interest- 
 ed with the previous conversation to take much 
 notice of the interruption, " why was not your 
 family assisted by the act of royal grace, towards 
 his suffering Irish subjects, which marked the 
 restoration of the late king? many noblemen 
 and gentlemen then recovered their properties, 
 from the confiscations of the protector." 
 
 " Not many, after all," replied Edmund, 
 " and few of them Roman Catholic families, al- 
 though to Roman Catholics, almost exclusively, 
 Charles owed gratitude for the struggle made, 
 and the miseries and losses incurred, in Ireland, 
 on behalf of his father. Their lordships of 
 Clanricard, Carlingford, Cloncarthy, and lord 
 Dillon, of Costelloe Gallen, received back, I 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 12\ 
 
 grant ye, as much land as they had possessed 
 before 1641; more, perhaps, if the truth were 
 known, and justice done. But what shall we 
 say of the great body of the rightful proprietors 
 of three provinces out of the four, which make 
 up our kingdom, whom Cromwell had, nearly 
 to a man, disinherited, and driven into Con- 
 naught and the county of Clare? The very 
 statement, issued in the name of the restored 
 prince, of the reasons for confirming the dispos- 
 session of this great majority, says, that such a 
 measure was called for, because the most pow- 
 erful and armed party in the country were the 
 usurpers, and necessary to support English as- 
 cendancy amongst us, and that those whose 
 lands they had usurped, though they did not 
 merit to lose their birthrights for the cause al- 
 leged by Cromwell, namely, their support of 
 Charles I. yet merited it, because, long before 
 that struggle, they had stood up on their own 
 account against the tyranny of the very govern- 
 ment, that a few years after, cut off Charles's 
 head. Was this reasoning for the son of 
 Charles ? or if, speaking generally, it was — how 
 can it stand when limited by this particularity, 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
122 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 that, in 1647, the Irish catholics, chief movers 
 in the insurrection against that government, 
 concluded with the lieutenant of Charles I., the 
 great and good Ormonde, a treaty sanctioned 
 by his master's name, and which conferred on 
 them pardon and indemnity for all that had 
 gone before? Be assured, sir," continued the 
 youth, now naturally warmed with his subject, 
 *' that the best EngHsh ascendancy to have 
 kept over us, would have been a sense of Eng- 
 lish justice, if not gratitude." 
 
 " Yes," said Evelyn, " supposing Irishmen to 
 have natural affections for liege fealty, or com- 
 mon reason to calculate their own interests." 
 
 " One of our relations," old M'Donnell here 
 observed, having been all along aware, partly 
 by Eva's assistance, partly by a general com- 
 prehension, though he never attempted to speak 
 in English, of the subject of discourse, " one 
 of our relations was more fortunate, though not 
 more deserving than we of Cromwell's indul- 
 gence ; he got back his estate for giving him a 
 good hard blow on the head ; and it is well- 
 known we did our best to give as good a one." 
 
 " I know that story, too," said the chronicler 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 123 
 
 of GlenarrifF — we scarce pause to say that he, 
 as well as old M'Donnell, continued to speak in 
 Irish, which as usual was rendered for the 
 strangers, and this shall be our last notice of 
 the fact — " I know that story, too, Randall 
 M'Donnell. The cousin you speak of is Da- 
 niel M'Donnell, who holds Layd from M'Don- 
 nell Antrim, the cousin to both of you, again, 
 for five hundred years. Layd," he continued, 
 addressing the strangers, " is on the north side 
 of this glen, divided from us by the river. Well, 
 when Black Noll first came over, no hand vras 
 so hard against him as Daniel M'Donnell ; he 
 made a vow to look for him all over the field, 
 whenever there was a battle, and take his life, 
 or do his best to take it; and, sure enough, 
 they met often in the fight ; Cromwell, in time, 
 knowing him well; until, at last, Daniel gave 
 him a sharp cut in the top of the head, but no 
 more. Soon after they met again, in the same 
 way, and had another trial for it, but this time 
 Black Noll was the man; for he struck the 
 sword out of Daniel M'Donnell's hand, brought 
 him to his knee, and uncovering his own head 
 with one arm, and with the other holding him 
 G 2 
 
I24f THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 tight, asked, * What ought to be done to the 
 man who gave that blow V ' The devil con- 
 found him,' answered Daniel, * for not sending 
 it down, through skull and jaw, to the chink !' 
 upon which, they say, his land was left to him/' 
 
 " Since we lost ours," resumed Edmund, 
 " we have lived in this glen, among a people 
 the most congenial to us of any in the north, 
 endeavouring to support life by such agricultu- 
 ral pursuits as the times, and the aspect of the 
 country render available ; that is, my father and 
 uncle have resided here more than thirty years ; 
 but when my sister and I were children, we 
 went to Spain, to a relative of some importance 
 in that country, for the purpose of receiving an 
 education, such as our reduced circumstances, 
 and, alas, our religion, did not permit at home ; 
 we have too been in England." 
 
 " It was mostly as a husbandman," said old 
 M'Donnell, " that I strove to make a poor liv- 
 ing for my children ; and we prospered well 
 enough, as long as we were allowed to send our 
 cattle to England ; but since the churlish law 
 passed by the English parliament against us, in 
 tJiat trade, even our little cabin often felt dis- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 125 
 
 tress, and the most we could do has not always 
 kept the wolf from the door." 
 
 " It was indeed a churlish law," said Evelyn, 
 " calculated to keep this country poor, while it 
 could not enrich the other, at least, to any ex- 
 tent ; and also serving, as I believe my lord of 
 Ormonde represented to his master, to cut the 
 bond of mutual interests, if not kindnesses, be- 
 tween both." 
 
 " It was, sir," said Edmund, " a tacit declara- 
 tion that they would hold us only at the point 
 of the sword ; that, if they kept us at all, they 
 would keep us down. It came, too, immedi- 
 ately after the final decision that dispossessed 
 us of our hereditary estates ; thus seeming to 
 intimate that we should not live independent, 
 either by our fortunes, as gentles, or afterwards 
 even by the humbler efforts of buying and sell- 
 ing ; that having, without one just or generous 
 plea — without even the right of conquest — made 
 us poor, they would, by any means, hold us so. 
 We were even cruelly and tyrannically insulted 
 by hearing that parliament call our trade * a nui- 
 sance ;' and this language was addressed to men 
 
126 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 — to men of gentfe blood — who, without one 
 disrespectful murmur, had just submitted to 
 the decree that, on account of their loyalty to 
 Charles I. made them paupers, and who, man- 
 fully resisting the struggles of old pride and old 
 recollections, had just condescended to embrace 
 the industry of which the law, containing that 
 insult, forbid them the practice. But well did 
 such acts and words become the spirit of almost 
 the same men who murdered their sovereign ; 
 and who, when Ireland sent over her best sol- 
 diers, to fight for that sovereign, on his own 
 ground, passed another law forbidding any quar- 
 ter to be shewn to Irish royalists, a bloody 
 mandate well obeyed by the roundheads, until 
 the gallant prince Rupert made some terrible 
 retaliations." 
 
 *• Least of all people in Ireland," said Eva, 
 who, with eyes of delight fastened on her young 
 brother, had heard his unusual warmth of state- 
 ment ; nor was the gentle Esther indifferent to it 
 or to him — " least of all people in Ireland did the 
 northern McDonnells merit ingratitude from the 
 restored son of Charles I. — is it not so, father?" 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 127 
 
 '* Many of them," answered old M'Donnell, 
 " were in the army that the English parUament 
 doomed to be slaughtered in cold blood ; and 
 Montrose could not raise his head in Scotland, 
 till he received an Irish levy, mostly from this 
 part of the north ; who, when all other friends 
 fell off, stuck to him through every change of 
 fortune." 
 
 " My father," said Edmund, " was the king's 
 soldier on both the occasions he speaks of; he 
 fought under Montrose, in that very army, sent 
 to him by our cousin, the old earl of Antrim, 
 which, with a reinforcement only equal to its 
 own number, defeated the lord Elcho, at Perth ; 
 and which, by the falling off of Scottish allies, 
 afterwards left almost alone, put to rout the 
 great chieftain of the Campbells, at Innerlochy, 
 although he had nearly three times as many as 
 they were, and although Seaforth, at the head 
 of six thousand men, was within hearing of the 
 battle that day." 
 
 " I put a sudden question," resumed Evelyn, 
 " but my interest in all the information you have 
 given me, will, I hope, excuse it — have the peo- 
 ple of this immediate district ever changed their 
 
128 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 religion since the possession acquired by the 
 chieftain Surlebiioy ?" 
 
 " No," Eva answered, emphatically, " while 
 the banishment or extermination of the natives 
 took place, at different periods, all around 
 them, the inhabitants of GlenarrifF remained, 
 and still held their religion, their manners, and 
 their native simplicity of character, at least. 
 While colonies of strangers overran, almost en- 
 tirely, every other part of Ulster, or became so 
 mixed up with the remnant of the old people 
 as, in a few years, to confound all distinctions 
 between both, this glen continued shut out 
 from them, and has since continued shut out, 
 keeping its own customs, its own language, and 
 its own race." 
 
 " That is singular ; I was, indeed, struck 
 with the difference, even in the dress of the 
 people, from that worn throughout other parts 
 of Ulster I have seen ; it closely resembles the 
 costume of the peasantry of Louth, and of coun- 
 ties more southern, except that there is some 
 intermixture of Highland dress, which your 
 former anecdotes explain. But nothing I have 
 yet heard explains the chief wonder, that dur- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 1^ 
 
 ing repeated colonizations and transfers of pro- 
 perty and inhabitants, in this northern pro- 
 vince, I should here meet a considerable number 
 of people, who have never been affected by such 
 changes." 
 
 " I admit it is singular," said Edmund, " and, 
 perhaps, am at a loss, as well as yourself, to ex- 
 plain it. The fact of the lands, themselves, 
 having never changed their head proprietor, 
 would, however, much assist in resolving the 
 question ; as my lord of Antrim had the luck to 
 be recognized by Charles II. for his good ser- 
 vices in Scotland, he might also have had the 
 power of saving from expatriation, or worse, his 
 own people, and the inhabitants of GlenarrifF 
 among the number; and, thus permitted to 
 cling together, perhaps the isolated situation of 
 the place, its remoteness from large towns, and, 
 withal, its mountain aspect, held out no induce- 
 ment to the new settlers, whether Scotch or 
 English, to intermix, in the prosecution of ma- 
 nufacture or agriculture, with the old natives." 
 
 *' What kind of Irishman are you at all, from 
 your own story?" asked Carolan ; "Irish-Scotch 
 or Scotch-Irish, or what.?" 
 G 3 
 
L30 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " Irish," answered Eva, " to the last drop in 
 our hearts." 
 
 " I was sure of the women, Eva, as long as 
 you are among them," he resumed ; ** it was of 
 the men I put the question." 
 
 " Irish, then," cried Edmund, " and, as poor 
 Eva says, to the last drop of blood within us. 
 If, indeed, our first derivation was from Scot- 
 land, the memory of it has passed away ; — this," 
 stamping his foot on the ground — " this is our 
 native land. Irish we are, in feeling, and, I will 
 say, in generosity; — Irish enough to forgive 
 and forget all the wanton cruelties that have 
 been practised upon us ; — to forget the rank we 
 have lost, and be content with that which we 
 toil and sweat to earn, if, indeed, even that poor 
 privilege of humanity be left to us. I would 
 not draw a sword, this moment, for the recovery 
 of my old right, when blood and convulsion 
 must be the consequence. Sensible of my fa- 
 ther's loss I must be, and prompt to speak of it, 
 warmly; but I find myself bom under a new 
 order of things ; the voice of law, and of a king, 
 has sounded in my infantine ears to command 
 obedience to that new order ; and I say to my- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 131 
 
 self, as my ancestors gained their lands, so I 
 forfeit them ; it is the chance of the world, and 
 I am content." 
 
 " The words of a good man, a wise man, and 
 a Christian," said Carolan, who, by the way, 
 was remarkable for the equanimity and piety of 
 his character, "and I do not mean to praise 
 myself when I so agree with you, Edmund ; as 
 you know that I was born at Nobber, on the 
 lands of Carolans-town — the very lands taken 
 from my people in a time farther back than you 
 speak of, and given to the family of the Nu- 
 gents. But what have I to do with that? — ■! 
 never enjoyed those lands, and so never miss 
 them ; and God has given me a gift I can en- 
 joy, and, let the poor harper speak — am more 
 proud of: — for does it not get me the praise of 
 lords, and — look at me, Eva M'Donnell — the 
 smiles of ladies ; does it not make my welcome 
 from the casde of the chief to the cabin of the 
 peasant ; and sit ye not here around me, this 
 night, who will swear, and, if need be, fight to 
 prove, that already it has hung a wreath on my 
 harp, which shall hang green, there, in the days 
 to come, and call me to mind among the unborn 
 
IS2 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 children of my native land ?— oh !" the minstrel 
 continued, excited by the theme he had thought 
 but to sport with — " Oh ! let that be the fate of 
 Carolan — let him have fame in green Ireland — 
 let him leave behind some strains that will glad- 
 den or touch the hearts of her future sons 
 and her fair daughters, and little will he think 
 of any loss beside." 
 
 All, except Mrs. Evelyn and her husband, 
 who had both fallen asleep, rose, delightfully 
 affected with the simple pathos of the harper's 
 feelings, and once more pledged his health. 
 
 " I am poor, and I am blind," he continued, 
 " and, worst of all, I have lost a friend ; but, 
 come ! — I will try to be merry — Edmund, put 
 the cup in my hand." 
 
 " Thou need'st not try, thou art merry," said 
 Jeremiah, his eyes running over with good feel- 
 ing. 
 
 " Well, I am, then ; what is it to be poor in 
 worldly wealth? give me the riches it cannot 
 buy ; what is it to be blind ? — my eyes have 
 only passed into my ears, to give them a double 
 sense of soft sound ; and why should I even 
 grieve for my old master? he is happier than 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 133 
 
 he was here ; — so, come ! — some toast, now, to 
 outdo the last — fill !" — he stood up, his face, 
 and, particularly his mouth, beaming with ex- 
 pression that made the want of eyes forgotten — 
 " I give the father of Irish song — the son of 
 Fion — the son of Comhal, — Oisin, Oisin !" 
 
 It was quaffed in a roar, to which Evelyn 
 himself contributed. Carolan buoyantly spoke 
 on. 
 
 " Manus Oge ! come here, old Manus Oge," — 
 the chronicler of the glen rose and advanced, 
 his very tall figure somewhat stooped, from ill- 
 ness, his long limbs moving gracelessly, his long 
 arms swinging or fidgetting about, and his 
 shoulders often shrugged up and down, per- 
 haps from an inward impatience of indisposi- 
 tion — " sit down here, near me, and sing us the 
 Laoidh of Oisin that we all like best ; Edmund, 
 get your large harp, and accompany him ; you 
 know the old chaunt ; I will help you, now and 
 then, with this little Clarseech ; tho' no man 
 can play even my own airs worse than myself. 
 I have often told you I only use the harp to 
 assist me in composition ; running over it with 
 my fingers, in search of the melody that is in 
 
134 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 my brain and heart — come, your harp, and sit 
 down by Manus Oge." 
 
 " Is it the Laoidh of Con-More-mac-an 
 Deirgh, you want, Carolan?" asked Manus — 
 " or the Laoidh of Cagavra, where Oscar was 
 killed by Cairbre, the king? or of Conloach- 
 Mac-Cuchullin ?" — and so he continued to run 
 over the names of poems, others of which, as 
 well as those mentioned, were on subjects, 
 which another chronicler has since given, in an 
 adapted shape, to the world. 
 
 " It is Conloach-Mac-Cuchullin I want, Ma- 
 nus Oge," replied Carolan ; and the selection 
 being thus made, and Edmund's harp ready, 
 Manus began the recitation of a poem, which, 
 in a different style of language and arrange- 
 ment, may be found among the collection of 
 Ossian's poems, before alluded to; but which, it 
 is our impression, has not been improved in the 
 hands of the Scotch editor, or in the hands of 
 those from whom he received it ; though, even at 
 this day, it may be obtained in Irish, very nearly 
 word for word, as it shall now be translated, 
 from the lips of the descendant of Manus Oge, 
 and on the very spot which is the present scene 
 of our story. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 135 
 
 CONLOACH-MAC-CUCHULLIN. 
 
 " From Scotland came a haughty young hero, 
 " the vahant champion, Conloach, unto the 
 " grand court of pleasure, Trachtisha, in Ire- 
 " land. 
 
 " Connor, Ulster's king, quickly sent a mes- 
 " senger to inquire the cause of his visit, whence 
 " he journeyed, and what was his name. 
 
 " ' I am a messenger sent by Ulster's king, to 
 " thee, young warrior, to inquire the cause of 
 '* thy visit, whence thou comest, and what is 
 " thy name.' 
 
 " * The cause of my visit does not concern 
 " your king ; my name is of little import ; yet 
 " there lives no king or champion to whom I 
 " will disclose it.' 
 
 " The king, when he heard these bold words, 
 " to his valiant heroes spoke again ; 
 
 " *Who will force this youth to answer? who 
 " will make him tell his name V 
 
 " Out spoke Connall, the ever-dauntless hero: 
 
 " * I will bring back a true answer ; I will tell 
 '' you why he has come to Trachtisha.' 
 
 " * Welcome, gay glittering warrior, brave 
 
136 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " youth, the comeliest of men ; but I see, by 
 " thy coming towards us, thou art^out of thy in- 
 " tended way.' 
 
 " * I come from the east ; from the brightest 
 " bower of the earth, resolving to try my arm 
 " amongst the chieftains of Erin.' 
 
 " * Shun that dangerous course, in which 
 " great heroes have fallen, or else your tomb 
 '* will soon be raised where theirs have arisen.' 
 
 " * Is it thus ye have done in former days ? 
 " did no hero escape your sword ? — yet will I 
 " subdue ye, for all others, from this day to 
 " the day of doom.' 
 
 " Council of the mighty hand arose upon 
 " hearing the young man's speech ; but before 
 " his mighty hand was lifted, Conloach, the 
 " fierce and nimble, at Trachtisha, (tho' it 
 '' should not be told) bound Connell, and part 
 " of his men. 
 
 " Then the king spoke again — ' a messenger 
 " from us to Cuchullin !' 
 
 " * I am a messenger sent from Ulster's king, 
 " to thee, gr.eat Cuchullin, the victorious, to tell 
 " thee that Connell and part of his men, are 
 " bound by the stranger at Trachtisha.' 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 137 
 
 *' CuchuUin instantly moved : he came from 
 " Dhoon-Gallagan, of the pleasant bowers, to 
 " Trachtisha, of the great warriors. 
 
 (( i Welcome to thee, noble hero ; but too 
 " late hast thou come to our aid ; for Connell, 
 " and many of his men, are bound, unless you 
 " give them freedom.' 
 
 " * 'Tis hard for me to see in bondage the 
 " friend who would free me in distress ; but 'tis 
 " harder to combat with the sword the heroic 
 " man who has conquered Connell.' 
 
 " * Refuse not with him to combat ; let thy 
 " spear and sword be reddened for Connall's 
 " bondage.' 
 
 " — Conloach spoke as he came — * Peace be- 
 " tween us, noble hero ; look not on me as an 
 " enemy ; let our tongues speak, in prudence, 
 " and thou need'st not fear our combatting.' 
 
 " * I never feared ; and surely must I fight 
 " with thee, unless thou shewest thyself a friend; 
 " tell thy name, young man, or combat with me.' 
 " * The voice of a parent has bound me not 
 " to tell my name to any ; if I could tell it to 
 " one under the sun, thou should'st be the man.' 
 N " Then the two heroes engaged. Equally 
 
138 THE BOVNE WATER. 
 
 " strong and brave was the desperate conflict : 
 " for of equal courage and great mind were the 
 " two most mighty champions. 
 
 " When Cuchulhn saw that he could not soon 
 " quell the stranger, he, a sudden spring made 
 " to the stream, and returning swift as an ar- 
 " row, then cast the fatal spear — with all his 
 " might and strength he cast it — and pierced 
 " was the youth's body thro'. 
 
 *' ' Brave young hero of the east, behold thy 
 " mortal wound ; thy tomb will now soon be 
 " raised, thy name concealed no longer.' 
 
 " * I am Coanloch — never, — tho' 'tis my own 
 " boast — never before overcome in fight, and 
 " who would never yield to any hero, tho' I 
 " yielded to thee — father !' 
 
 " ' Conloach ! — the son of Cuehullin ? — the 
 " rightful heir of Dhoon Gallagan? — the sacred 
 " pledge of fame I left in the womb, when from 
 "Skiach I parted?' 
 
 " * Conloach I am, the son of Cuehullin ; the 
 " rightful heir of Dhoon Gallagan ; the pledge 
 " thou didst leave in the womb, when from Skiach 
 " you fatally parted.' 
 
 " * Oh, my dark fate ! — Oh, my mild Con- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 139 
 
 " loach ! — heir of a crown — brave — peerless ! — 
 " oh, that I had met a dreadful death before 
 " I pierced thy beauteous body !" 
 
 " * Oh, CuchuUin, my gentle father ! — now 
 " is thy knowledge of me too late ; but I knew 
 " thee, and therefore weakly raised my sword, 
 " and let it fall, harmlessly ! — Oh, Cuchullin, 
 " my great and wise father ! — who ever overcame 
 " difficulties! — Now" that thou may'st know thou 
 " shalt be without a son, behold the ring on my 
 " finger ! — oh Cuchullin, the most active and 
 " mighty, since I am weak and dying, take off 
 " the ring and chain, and bear them with thee ; 
 " my sharp spear, and my keen sword, and my 
 
 " red shield, that lies low and lonely ! Cu- 
 
 " chullin — father! — how hard a lot is mine ! — 
 " accurst be my mother! she it was who laid me 
 " under a vow, and sent me to thee, Cuchullin, 
 " to try my persuasion on thee !' 
 
 " ' A second curse attend thy mother ! ever 
 " was she evil and deceitful ; it is the greatness 
 " of her many faults that has covered my son 
 " with blood. Oh, that she was now here to 
 " behold the fatal end of her counsels ! — Still 
 " lean on me, Conloach.' 
 
140 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " * Let me now fall forward, since thou hast 
 "said thou art truly my father !—altho' no 
 " other man lives in Innisfail for whom I could 
 " yield or fly ! My blessing with thee, loving 
 " father ; it is all thou canst now have of Con- 
 " loach. I am devoured by a raging agony : I 
 " came to meet and to love thee, father !' 
 
 " — * Oh, that thou wert still safe without a 
 " wound, in any wide country of the earth, still 
 " absent from me, so that thou cam'st not to kill 
 " thy father's soul ! But it is good for the 
 " Dane, — or for Spain, of the armed king — or 
 " for the chieftains of fair Scotland — that my 
 " mild Conloach by them did not fall! — And it 
 " is good for Connor, of the Red-Branch, the 
 " chief of the host of champions, — it is good 
 " for him and for them, that it was not by his 
 " means my only son did perish ! Hadst thou 
 " fallen by any other hero, from any other 
 *^ quarter of the world, I would, to satisfy thy 
 " death, sacrifice countless thousands ! — or if I 
 " and my beautiful Conloach were in one cause, 
 " no two heroes of the earth, without treachery, 
 " could do us harm ! If I and my beloved 
 " Conloach were together on a hill-side, united 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 141 
 
 " Erin, from shore to shore, between us we 
 " would make tremble ! 
 
 " * Five heroes have been born to me ; the 
 " last, under my eyes, hes cold and mangled ! — 
 " The other four fell in many fields : but I am 
 " the miserable father that has slain his only 
 " child, with the spear that overcame the 
 " mighty ! From the hour that this black deed 
 " is done, as black be my heart for ever ! — Oh ! 
 " the dark grief chokes my voice, and smothers 
 " my bosom. — The head of my only son hangs 
 " lifeless on one arm, and his bright shield and 
 " weapons on the other !' " 
 
142 THE BOYNE WATER, 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Notwithstanding some anticipations of want 
 of room in M'Donnell's humble abode, Evelyn, 
 when the party separated for the night, found 
 himself well disposed of. Mrs. Evelyn and her 
 husband had first retired ; and as the lady re- 
 mained quiet after leaving the sitting apart- 
 ment, it was to be taken for granted that she 
 condescended to put up with her accommoda- 
 tion. Jeremiah, heedless of the weather, re- 
 turned to Cushindoll, to keep possession of the 
 cottage ; and Eva led Esther into her own 
 chamber : a small one, indeed, but trimmed up 
 in a style of neatness and rustic ornament that 
 argued well of the taste of the young and fair 
 possessor. As it was the season of flowers, 
 every fragrant one that gave out its perfume to 
 the dells and mountains of GlenarrifF had been 
 culled to grace the lowly bower of the hill- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 143 
 
 Miaiden, and lay in bunches around, or hung 
 wreathed m garlands over her couch. The pale 
 primrose, flower of mildest scent, abounded ; 
 and looking still paler and more delicate by the 
 light of a lamp, seemed fitly to adorn the mid- 
 night solitude of a girl so young, so pure, and 
 so innocent. On the walls hung some shelves, 
 containing books, a picture of the crucifixion, 
 and a Spanish guitar. 
 
 After a little pretty gossip, which the fair 
 reader may be assured was even then in fa- 
 shion between two young ladies preparing for 
 slumber, the maidens knelt to perform in silent 
 prayer, though not in the very same words, or 
 according to the same prescribed form, their 
 sincere devotions to their common Creator, and 
 then lay down to take their innocent sleep, 
 sweetly kissing each other's lips, (sweet crea- 
 tures !) and Esther held in the anus, and pil- 
 lowed on the bosom of her new friend. It 
 is amazing how suddenly young ladies hate or 
 love one another ; they would seem, indeed, by 
 their promptness in coming to the point with 
 their own sex, to make up for their unintelli- 
 gible dallying with ours ; but however that may 
 
144? THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 be, never was seen a more sudden friendshipi 
 than, ere they closed their damask eyelids, this 
 night, sprang up in the bosoms of Esther and 
 Eva. Perhaps, simple and sincere as both 
 were, they had their own little reasons for fully 
 encouraging the separate impulse ; but as this 
 supposition is treason to the magnanimity of 
 disinterested female friendship, we shall, for 
 the present, press it no further. 
 
 It should have been before noticed, that, from 
 the return of Evelyn to McDonnell's house, until 
 the hour of repose, the rain that, during the 
 early part of the evening, had been blowing off 
 and on at intervals, then came down with con- 
 stancy, though not with violence. At the grey 
 break of morn, Evelyn's ears were filled with a 
 tremendous noise of rushing waters, that, as 
 he sprung up in alarm to ascertain the cause, he 
 recollected was not to have been heard the pre- 
 vious night. Running to the little window of his 
 apartment, which was at the back of the house, 
 and looking up to the precipice that, at but a 
 short distance overhung the glen, he saw a torrent 
 shooting down its perpendicular face, with a fall 
 of more than a hundred feet. The mists of the 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 145 
 
 previous evening had ascended nearly to the 
 summit of the wall of rock ; but as they still hid 
 the topmost outline, extending themselves in 
 monotonous grey, over the sky, Evelyn, unac- 
 quainted with the real boundaries of the great 
 objects around him, could not calculate how 
 much more of the precipice remained hidden 
 from his view ; and as the origin of the cataract 
 was also concealed by those wreaths of mist, ima- 
 gination began to refer it to an illimitable height, 
 or else to suggest that it was poured forth by 
 the swollen clouds, from the bosom of which it 
 took, indeed, its first apparent source. In re- 
 moving his eye to the bottom of the precipice, a 
 like mystery enveloped the certain depth of the 
 torrent's fall ; for it glanced and disappeared, 
 behind a natural parapet of rock, in a sheet so 
 unbroken as to give no idea of any rest or inter- 
 ruption, a considerable way downwards. The 
 noise vvas, to an ear unused to it, appalling ; but 
 after some observation, Evelyn became aware 
 that the chief roar of waters was caused by the 
 furious stream that struggled along, over rock 
 and inequality, in the deep gully beside which 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
146 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 the house stood, and which, the evening before, 
 contained but a puny rill, that, almost unheard 
 and unperceived, wrought its way to the distant 
 river. 
 
 He was interrupted by the entrance of Oliver 
 Whittle, in much solemn agitation, for which it 
 is convenient, under the reader's favour, to ac- 
 count at some length. 
 
 The house that gave shelter to the benighted 
 personages of our story, did not appear to have 
 been the work of a first simple idea, but rather as 
 if it was constructed at different times, as whim, 
 necessity, or reflection, caused the proprietors to 
 reconsider, after a part had been perfected, the 
 plan in hand. The middle of the building, that 
 which inclosed the common apartment, or room 
 of all work, seemed to have been the primary 
 structure ; at the end of it, and facing the huge 
 fire-place, a door, as nearly in the middle of the 
 wall as could reasonably be expected, opened 
 into a narrow passage, at either side of which, 
 four others gave admission into four opposite 
 chambers ; and, although it could now afford 
 lodging to all the immediate members of the fa- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 147 
 
 mily, together with their guests of the night, 
 this wing appeared a second thought. 
 
 At the right-hand side of the fire-place, a 
 small door also led into a second narrow passage, 
 which again opened to the night chambers of the 
 menials ; a large apartment, at the back of the 
 fire-place, receiving the males ; and one as large, 
 divided from this by a good substantial wall, 
 inclosing the females. Into the latter it is none 
 of our business to enter ; but into the former, 
 preceded by a grey-headed retainer of the fa- 
 mily, who had been with old M'Donnell in the 
 wars of Montrose, and who, after the peace, 
 had taken upon himself, without any special ap- 
 pointment, but by a kind of acknowledged right, 
 a general superintendence of every thing about 
 the reduced establishment of his old commander 
 — preceded, we say, by this aged follower, bear- 
 ing a rude lamp, and using much dumb shew of 
 courtesy, stalked Oliver Whittle, whom we are 
 at liberty to accompany any where. 
 
 He strode into the room with a face as long 
 and as suspicious as if he were about to put up his 
 quarters among the sprites of those he had help- 
 H 2 
 
148 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 ed to slay at the Gobbins Heughs. The large 
 chimney of the outer apartment protruded into 
 this chambre a-coucher,- and at one side of the 
 bulk, where the heat penetrated for his benefit, 
 nestled, on a bed of fresh heather, the donkey's 
 driver, in what he denominated " a cosey nook ;" 
 while around the rough walls, as Oliver stood 
 erect in the middle of the floor, he could discern 
 some dozen large heads of hair, shading as many 
 harsh visages, pushed from under coarse cover- 
 lids, which screened the giant limbs of a like 
 number of stalwart kernes of the sept McDon- 
 nell. 
 
 *' Whilk is to be my place of repose, bro- 
 ther ?" he asked solemnly, after a pause. 
 
 " Phat will hur say ?" asked his seneschal in 
 return. 
 
 ** Whar maun I stretch my limbs ? Whar am 
 I to taste sleep ?" 
 
 " Kaw sliee aun suh!' (here it is) thrusting his 
 lamp under the waggon-like structure intended 
 for a bedstead, the sole resemblance of that ar- 
 ticle in the place. Oliver only understood the ac- 
 companying action. While looking at his couch, 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 149 
 
 his glance became rivetted, and he resumed, in 
 mixed grufFness and nausea, " Tak' away from 
 my eyes yon symbol of idolatry," pointing to a 
 roughly-sculptured crucifix that dangled over 
 the head of the bed. 
 
 The major domo stared ; and " hear til him, 
 noo," said the donkey's driver, in the corner. 
 One of the listening kerne inquired in Irish what 
 Oliver had said, and on a translation given by 
 the young promoter of mischief, three or four 
 jumped, primitively naked, from their heather 
 couches, muttering no very peaceable intent. 
 Oliver's brow assumed a deeper curl, but it was 
 a vahant one ; his hand flew to his sword ; he 
 confronted the row of hideous apparitions be- 
 fore him ; and blood might have flowed, had 
 not the old man compelled them, by a few words 
 in Irish, once more to ensconce themselves be- 
 neath their coverlids. Then he placed the 
 lamp on a large box near at hand, and after 
 hemming, and stopping more than once in his 
 effort to speak English, " God lend bur the 
 good night's shleep," he said, and retired. 
 
 Oliver bent his knees against the bedstead, 
 and giving his shoulders a preparatory shrugs 
 
150 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 and swallowing his saliva before he began, per- 
 formed, in a loud dolorous pitch of voice, a long- 
 winded extemporaneous prayer. Then throw- 
 ing a suspicious glance around, and ascertaining 
 that all slept, or appeared to sleep, he drew off 
 his great trooper's boots, and, his eye again 
 scowling around, stole his great sword under 
 his head, and crept, like an old wasted spider, 
 into the recesses of his nightly habitation. 
 
 Notwithstanding the fatigues of the day, his 
 fears and disgust kept him waking ; and some 
 time after he lay down, he perceived the old 
 servant steal in, shut the door softly, and walk 
 watchfully across the room. Half closing his 
 eyes, Oliver closely followed the motions of this 
 person. The old man approached the bedside, 
 and reached his arms over him; then Oliver 
 grasped firmly the basket-hilt of his sw^ord; but 
 the aged servant only took down the rude cruci- 
 fix, placed it on the box, knelt before it, and 
 with a prefatory flourish of his arm, that Oliver 
 construed into determined insult, went through 
 the ceremony of, as it is technically denomi- 
 nated, " blessing himself," while the accompa- 
 nying words were uttered in Irish. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 151 
 
 " In-om-in-a naigh, augus a-vich, augus a- 
 spridth naiv, — amin;" an invocation, separately, 
 of the persons of the trinity ; and then he con- 
 tinued to pray, fervently, in the same language, 
 often thumping his breast. 
 
 " Idolatry — papistry — abomination;" groaned 
 Oliver ; the words, however, indistinct. The 
 object of his aversion turned his eyes towards 
 the bed ; another loud " in-om-in-a naigh" fi- 
 nished his orisons, exciting another *' abomina- 
 tion," and another groan from the bowels of 
 OUver ; and, finally, the old man arose from his 
 knees, took an earthen jar off* a shelf, spilt 
 some water from it into the hollow of his hand, 
 sprinkled his own forehead, then the couches of 
 the kerne, then all round the room, and then 
 giving the jar a second good stoop into his 
 palm, he approached Oliver, his evil intent ma- 
 nifested by the zeal of his glances. 
 
 " Aye, jest sprinkle him weel wi' the holy 
 wather, to kill the muckle de'il that 's in him," 
 remarked the imp of the donkey from his " co- 
 sey neuk." 
 
 " Holt/ water ! — the waters of filth — I'll have 
 nane o't I" roared Oliver, springing up in a 
 
152 THE BOYNE WATEK. 
 
 sitting posture. But the words came too late. 
 The man conceiving he had moaned in his 
 sleep, in consequence of some bad dream, charit- 
 ably came to drive away the fiend with an ab- 
 lution that he deemed a specific for the pur- 
 pose; and, ere Oliver could prevent it, the deed 
 was done. A good splash visited his face ; he 
 sputtered, shut his eyes, made various grimaces, 
 and hastily wiping away the water — 
 
 " Defilement !" he exclaimed — " the waters 
 of the sink of Sathan, I say ! begone awa' wi' 
 your abominations, or the hilt o' this sword" — 
 here he was stopped by the re-appearance, at 
 his bedside, of the gigantic kerne, each with a 
 i'ude dagger, or skeine, in his hand ; and again 
 there might have been bloodshed, but that the 
 old servant, as on the former occasion, im- 
 pressed on his allies, that, according to the 
 command of their chief, no insult must be of- 
 fered to the stranger ; so, they a second time 
 retired, muttering, to their repose ; while he, 
 in unintelhgible English, proceeded to offer 
 an apology to Oliver, and moved him to He 
 down. After some time, his intreaties were 
 successful; and at last he extinguished the 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 153 
 
 lamp, and, to Oliver's continued annoyance, 
 took a place by the side of his guest. 
 
 The old man's snore soon gave testimony of 
 deep sleep ; the other sharers of the apartment 
 were not long in supplying evidence of the same 
 fact; the donkey's lord contributed his minor 
 note to the grand bass concert around ; and 
 through the solid thickness of the far wall, the 
 gentle maids and matrons of the neighbouring 
 apartment sent in an echoing chorus. But the 
 unlucky Oliver closed not his eyes. He was 
 haunted by the night-mare of popery ; he ima- 
 gined he still felt the holy water trickling over 
 his defiled brows ; he panted for the cleans- 
 ing facilities of some ample, clear, running- 
 stream ; and the summer morning found him 
 still waking. 
 
 As, with the light of day, children lose the 
 terrors of supernatural appearances, so the morn- 
 ing beams gave him a little confidence, and he 
 just hoped to settle himself to repose, when his 
 mates of the night jumped up, hastily donned 
 their rude garments, and, along with the boy and 
 his own bed-fellow, withdrew from the chamber. 
 During this disturbance, it was impossible to 
 H 3 
 
154 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 sleep. "When he was left in solitude, sweet vi- 
 sions again began to float round his pillow, but 
 the sharp tinkle of a little bell once more roused 
 him ; he started at the sound ; it was incontest- 
 ably popish ; his ears opened to listen ; and, 
 just then, the imp of the donkey re-entered. 
 
 " Come to the mass, Oliver Whittle," he 
 said, " the mass is going to be said, mon ; and 
 it will mak a gude body o' you — that and the 
 holy wather." 
 
 " Awa' wi' you, limb of darkness !" cried the 
 tortured trooper, bounding out of bed ; and his 
 grinning tormentor skipped off. 
 
 It was Sunday morning. The celebration of 
 mass was, by law, a serious offence, subjecting 
 the officiating clergyman to heavy punishment ; 
 of late, however, the matter, if done privately, 
 had been tolerated ; and the priest, either not 
 having a regular place of worship, or else afraid 
 to use it, generally attended at the house of some 
 one of his more considerable parishioners, to 
 honor the sabbath according to the rights of 
 the Roman Catholic church. 
 
 In the large apartment of the house, old 
 priest McDonnell had furnished up a rude kind 
 of altar. A high chest was covered with white 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 155 
 
 drapery ; on it were laid candles, the chalice, and 
 the book, with the other essentials used in the 
 performance of the mass. The aged priest stood 
 before it in his coloured silk vestment, having a 
 large cross described on the back; two Httle 
 boys, in white surplices, kneehng at each side, 
 attended him for the purpose of making the 
 prescribed responses, of occasionally adjusting 
 the book, or of giving the elementary wine, 
 or the water of ablution. Around knelt old 
 McDonnell, his brother, son, daughter, ser- 
 vants, and followers; while a considerable 
 group, collected from every cabin in the glen, 
 reached past the door, which faced the tem- 
 porary altar. 
 
 The dehberate clang of Oliver's boots an- 
 nounced his approach to the little congrega- 
 tion ; and presently he strode in among them, 
 scowling around, his face more haggard even 
 than usual, and his eyes bleared for want 
 of sleep. Assuming the kind of superiority 
 which impudence accords to such as he, and 
 indulging in the terms of insult and threat 
 which improved good sense has since reject- 
 ed, but which, by the way, w^ere perpetuated in 
 
156 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 that day by a sense of impunity — the mem- 
 bers of the degraded creed not daring to utter 
 a word — 
 
 " I set up my face," he cried, " against this 
 open idolatry — this unloosed wantonness of the 
 scarlet strumpet ; retire ye to your homes : gi' 
 ower ; avoid ye ! or verily I say unto ye, my 
 voice shall be raised in testimony against ye, 
 before the counsellors of the land." 
 
 All eyes were instantly fixed on Oliver ; some 
 half understood him — some not at all ; but his 
 manner was intelligible to every one. Edmund 
 McDonnell arose and approached him. 
 
 " You must needs retire, good fellow," he 
 said, " nor disturb nor insult the devotions of 
 the household." 
 
 " It is to retire that I cam hither," returned 
 Oliver, "whar is the chamber of the youth, 
 Robert Evelyn ?" 
 
 Edmund took him by the arm, and led him 
 to the passage. 
 
 Evelyn's observations, from his window, of 
 the novel and interesting objects we left him 
 contemplating, were, previous to the entrance 
 of Oliver, interrupted by the voice of his aunt- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 157 
 
 in-law, sounding through the partition that di- 
 vided him from her room. 
 
 " Paul, Paul," she cried, in a tone of steady 
 authority ; " awake thee, man ; thou'rt but a 
 drowsy knave, and sleepest the morning away." 
 
 " I am awake, Janet, dear wife," snuffled 
 Paul. 
 
 " Open those eyes of thine, then." 
 
 " They are open, Janet." 
 
 Evelyn guessed she had already arisen. — 
 ^' Hear'st thou nought to stir alarm in thee ?" 
 
 " What should alarm me, dear wife, and 
 thou so" — 
 
 '' Ask you what, man ? hear you not waters 
 rushing and roaring, as tho' they would sweep 
 the dwelling hence ?" 
 
 ** In sooth I believe there be such noises, Ja- 
 net," putting on a childish face of mock terror. 
 
 " Rise, man ; rise, and let us speed away, 
 then, from the dangers of this wild place." 
 
 Oliver here entered Evelyn's apartment. 
 
 '' It is not good to abide here," he said, " the 
 wrath of the Lord may, peradventure, overtake 
 us for the same." 
 
 *' What mean you, now, Oliver ?" 
 
158 THE BOYNE WATER, 
 
 " I mean," he replied, raising his voice, "that 
 the idol of the mass — the calf — the Dagon, is 
 set up beneath the very roof wi' us." 
 
 " Mind me, sir," observed Evelyn, angrily, 
 " neither you, nor I, nor any man, holds a 
 right to scoff at the devotions of others — there- 
 fore address me not, in such language, and be- 
 ware-how you offend those whose roof gives us 
 a hospitable shelter — begone, sir," 
 
 " If it likes you to sojourn here," Oliver an- 
 swered, " you canna' mak me abide by your 
 shouther ; wherefore I will awa' frae the accurst 
 hoose ;" and he stalked out of the room. 
 
 " And hear you that, too, husband ?" resum- 
 ed the voice of Mrs. Evelyn, who had over- 
 heard this discourse, as she ran to meet Oliver 
 at the door of her chamber. 
 
 " Dinna come forth," he said, addressing her, 
 " rest you in your ain place of secrecy, that 
 your eyes may not be defiled by saul-killing 
 abominations." 
 
 He strode on, but Mrs. Evelyn strode by 
 him, and entered the outer apartment, Oliver 
 closely following. The old priest had just com- 
 menced, as they made their appearance. Mrs. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 159 
 
 Evelyn stared about her with a look which she 
 intended should convey dignified importance, 
 but which might be construed into vulgar ar- 
 rogance. She beckoned slowly to Edmund, 
 who was again on his knees ; he arose and ap- 
 proached her, modestly wishing her a good- 
 morrow, in a low voice, out of respect to the oc- 
 cupation in which all the others were engaged. 
 
 " Youth," said she, coolly, and without deign- 
 ing to answer his courtesy, " is not this the su- 
 perstition of the mass I see before me ?" 
 
 " The sacrifice of the mass is about to be ce- 
 lebrated, madam," he replied, colouring with 
 indignation, yet his boyish respect for the cate- 
 chist's sex curbing the expression of it. 
 
 " And is not yonder the Jesuit priest to mi- 
 nister in the idolatry ?" 
 
 " Yea," said Oliver, " robed in the robes of 
 
 " And is this treason and superstition to be 
 done under our very eyes ?" interrupted Mrs. 
 Evelyn, *' could you not have tarried, youth, 
 with your damnable practices, till we had re- 
 tired from hence? — Paul! — Paul!" — striding 
 back, and thrusting her neck into his chamber, 
 
160 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " speed you, man, speed; and now, at the least, 
 let us take the road." 
 
 Evelyn came, at this instant, upon the scene 
 of foolish insult. The old clergyman had turn- 
 ed round when the first words met his ear ; and 
 the hectic of unwilled resentment flushed his 
 pale cheek, and his frame shook with more than 
 age's palsy. Eva started to her feet, and stood 
 with her brow bent, her head erect, her cheeks 
 and lips blanched, and her bosom panting, while 
 she grasped her father's arm, who, also stand- 
 ing, and one hand catching his long white beard, 
 frowned on the intruders. Con M'Donnell ap- 
 proached Oliver, as usual, with ominous looks, 
 'till he was beckoned back by Edmund ; while 
 a group of harsh-featured mountaineers more 
 obstinately surrounded the old trooper, seem- 
 ing to await but a signal to punish him for his 
 temerity. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this, madam ?" 
 asked Evelyn of his aunt, at this juncture. 
 
 " The rather do I ask where be your eyes, 
 nephew," she answered, " that they see not 
 here the popish " 
 
 " Madam, madam," he began, abashed and 
 confounded. 
 
-THE BOYNE WATER. 161 
 
 " The Jesuitical treason of the mass," his 
 aunt-in-law continued. 
 
 " Madam, this must not be — allow me to lead 
 you to your chamber." 
 
 " No, nephew, I will depart forthwith from 
 the roof that covers them. Paul ! Paul ! I say, 
 ■ — lazy churl, why tarryest thou ?" 
 
 " I am here, dear wife," he answered, just 
 then tottering in. 
 
 " Hie thee, hie thee, man," Mrs. Evelyn went 
 on, striding through the crowd, that, aware of 
 the danger heretofore incurred by attending a 
 prohibited mode of worship, quailed under the 
 frown of the Amazonian lady. It was an evi- 
 dence of the terror arising from acting by stealth, 
 which, with other causes, has broken the spirit, 
 and debased the demeanor of the wretched 
 peasantry of their country. 
 
 " Oliver !" Mrs. Evelyn resumed, outside the 
 door, with her husband. 
 
 " Abomination !" cried Oliver, striding thro' 
 the crowd, after her — " Stench ! — the scarlet 
 woman !" 
 
 " Niece ! nephew !" continued the lady. 
 
 '* Your husband's niece and nephew will stay 
 
162 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 where they are," answered Evelyn, "and en- 
 deavour to make some apology for the rude- 
 ness — your pardon, madam, for the most fitting 
 word — which you have shewn to the hospitality 
 of this roof." 
 
 " Young sir," demanded his aunt-in-law, 
 " darest thou insult a lady, and thy relative ? — 
 darest thou afford countenance to Jesuits and 
 plotters ? — mayhap it is thy intention to con- 
 form, but have a care, young sir, " her wrath 
 somewhat aroused by a resistance she did not 
 expect, and was not in the habit of experiencing ; 
 " fly not in the face of your lawful guardians, I 
 say ; hither with thee, presently, or my lord the 
 chancellor — the parliament — the king— no, not 
 the king — but all else you shoiUd fear, shall- 
 hear of it." 
 
 " Madam, I rest where I am ; you are not 
 my guardian." 
 
 " Command him forth, Paul." 
 
 " I do command him, Janet," but with a voice 
 and a face little expressive of authority ; in fact 
 he looked about to cry. 
 
 " Take thy sister's hand now, youngster, and 
 come forth, or abide the consequence." 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 163 
 
 "' I will not stir, madam ; neither shall my sis- 
 ter ; and I will abide the consequence." 
 
 " Naught is this, stripling, but papistry and 
 treason, and conforming ; and all because of 
 yonder Jesuit maiden, on whom I saw thee look 
 so loosely, last night." 
 
 " Come, madam," he replied, at last provoked 
 beyond bounds, " we here interrupt most inde- 
 cently the devotions of people whose creed is 
 only between their God and themselves; you 
 are welcome to depart in search of my house, 
 as soon as you list, and I wish you a pleasant 
 ride so early in the morning — come in, poor 
 people." 
 
 He waited till that part of the crowd who 
 were without had got under the roof of the 
 dwelling, and then closed the door; his aunt- 
 in-law bursting at the moment into bitter tears, 
 in which Paul joined her. 
 
 " Excuse this, McDonnell," Evelyn then re- 
 sumed, as young Edmund met him in the mid- 
 dle of the apartment, *' come into our sleeping 
 chamber" — they gained it ; " excuse this," ex- 
 tending his hand ; — " it has happened in none 
 of mine or of my sister's feeling; nor in my 
 
164 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 uncle's feeling, either, if he dared assert him- 
 self; forgive us if you can; and do not let a 
 woman's freak come between you and me, and 
 the high esteem I must ever feel for those who 
 have borne themselves towards us all so kindly." 
 
 " It is entirely forgotten," answered Edmund, 
 his face brightening up ; — " we are, alas ! too 
 well used to such unthinking slights, for I use 
 no harsher name : and I am only sorry the ob- 
 servance of our duty should have caused any 
 disquiet to your aunt ; indeed, the mass was 
 begun very early, in order, if possible, to be 
 done with ere she or any of you had left your 
 chambers." 
 
 " And believe me, she would have slept long 
 enough but for her fright of the falling waters ; 
 — please now to return to the outer apartment : 
 I shall stay here till you can again conveniently 
 join me — hark! there my aunt rides off, with 
 my uncle and attendant — can my sister and I 
 break our fast here ?" 
 
 A ready and pleased assent naturally came 
 from Edmund. 
 
 " And tax you for an afternoon repast ?" — 
 his -young host looked more and more gratified 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 165 
 
 *' Then let my aunt entertain herself till the 
 evening at least ; some shew of spirit it is ne- 
 cessary to make to her folly ; thanks, M'Don- 
 nell, and farewell till you are at leisure." 
 
 The mass was said ; Edmund returned to the 
 sleeping chamher, and, accompanied by Esther 
 and Eva, the young men went out to enjoy the 
 morning air and prospect ; Esther's statue-like 
 beauty of face, and her usually sad eye, excited 
 into some glow and sparkle from the novelty of 
 her situation. 
 
 All mist had by this time rolled away from 
 the mountains and precipices ; the sun was up ; 
 the sky blue and fleecy ; the glen visible in all 
 its extent and grandeur ; the river, almost un- 
 seen the evening before, swelled into a wide 
 inundation ; the hoarse voices of many other 
 torrents than the near one Evelyn had seen 
 from his apartment, heard at different distances 
 around; and, altogether, the character of great 
 mountain scenery fully developed. With their 
 back turned to the house, the young party 
 looked down the glen, as it swept and opened 
 to the bay ; its far side running out into the ex- 
 panse of the ocean, and ending in Garron Point; 
 
166 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 the barrier to the left turning before its ter- 
 mination could be seen, but taken up at a dis- 
 tance by other heights, on which stood the ruin- 
 ed fragment of Red-bay castle, and also run- 
 ning into the blue sea; while the remote dis- 
 tance gave glimpses of the sister country of 
 Scotland. 
 
 They returned to the house, and met, at 
 breakfast, old *' priest M'Donnell," of whose 
 irritability of the former night Evelyn could 
 perceive no symptom, in the bland and vener- 
 able demeanor which now marked the character 
 of, with all his age and infirmities, a travelled 
 and educated man. Breakfast — dinner w^as 
 done; and, ere the evening should overtake 
 them on the road, Evelyn and his sister mount- 
 ed their horses, at last to join Mrs. Evelyn's 
 family circle. Their parting from the McDon- 
 nells was warm on both sides : some tears, even, 
 were dropped between the maidens ; those of 
 Esther coming most abundantly, until Eva would 
 name a day to make her a long visit at her cot- 
 tage. Edmund was also prevailed upon by Eve- 
 lyn to engage his attentions to his sister, on that 
 future occasion ; and Carolan, repeatedly soli- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 167 
 
 cited by the young strangers, consented to ac- 
 company both. Finally, they left the Strip of 
 Burne, convoyed through the glen by even a 
 greater body of people, with the M'Donnells at 
 their head, than had come out to welcome them 
 on their arrival. As the road approached the 
 coast, farewells were renewed, and, with a single 
 guide, they thence proceeded to their own cot- 
 tage. 
 
 Mrs. Evelyn received them with sullenness 
 intended for dignity; but Evelyn could perceive 
 that this was only a disguise to cover the real 
 crest-fallen consciousness of his good relative. 
 He had expected such a pleasing result ; for, 
 young as Evelyn was, he knew human nature 
 sufficiently well, — even that half of it which is 
 honored by being of the fair sex —to calculate 
 on a victory over noise and words by a season- 
 able shew of resolution. In fact, he now had, 
 what is called, the upper-hand ;. and he wisely 
 determined to keep it, in his own house ; trust- 
 ing that, for the time he was compelled to live 
 with his uncle, and therefore with his aunt-in- 
 law, it might serve to obtain him some quiet ; nor 
 was he mistaken in his views. Still wrapping 
 
168 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 herself up in much dignity, Mrs. Evelyn grew 
 meek as a child ; if she was sublime, she was, 
 at the same time, silent ; or, in their hours of 
 connubial retirement, satisfied herself with re- 
 venging every thing on her husband. 
 
 The day appointed for the visit of the McDon- 
 nells brought them, even with the full assent of 
 Evelyn's and Esther's guardian, to the sea- 
 shore cottage of their young friends ; and the 
 harper accompanied them. The weather was 
 now beautifully fine; the walks by the coast 
 delightful; Esther rapidly improved in spirits 
 and health ; Carolan composed airs to words 
 of Edmund's writing, and both played, while 
 Esther and Eva sung them; peace was with 
 them, and about them, as well as over the 
 whole land — even the rare peace of sectarian 
 toleration ; they were all young ; all, in different 
 shades of feeling, enthusiastic ; all imaginative 
 and simple-hearted ; and — they all loved. 
 
 " 'Tis an old tale and often told," — 
 
 how young hearts get entangled with each 
 other, and beating and swelling for each other, 
 and a curious thing to account for ; but apart 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 169 
 
 even from the great solution of the riddle pro- 
 posed in speeches about sympathetic minds and 
 souls, by which is meant minds and souls very 
 like each other, it has remained for us, we 
 think, to discover the true solution — proximity. 
 They were together, and they loved ; that is 
 our syllogism. If it be combatted in favor of 
 the old doctrine, we rejoin, by first asking, ra- 
 ther tritely indeed, how could they ever have 
 loved, had they never come together? — Next, if 
 similarity of character was to have done every 
 thing, and proximity nothing, how could the 
 fiery-spirited Eva have loved the matter-of-fact 
 Evelyn? and the weak, tender Esther have 
 loved the bold, manly, although modest Ed- 
 mund ? — and how could the poor harper have 
 pined — we were about to say, indiscreetly, for 
 whom he pined ; but as it was not so quickly 
 ascertained, in the reality, neither should it be 
 all at once declared in the story. Moreover, 
 since his own tardy declaration of his feelings 
 was the immediate cause why others admitted 
 the state of their own, the whole matter seems 
 to require a progressive and circumstantial de- 
 velopment. 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
170 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 Evelyn and Edmund had gone for a day to 
 hunt the deer in the great chasse belonging to 
 Antrim Castle ; and their sisters thus left with- 
 out any company but that of Carolan — (they 
 did not admit that Jerry, Mrs. Evelyn, or her 
 husband, were company) — walked out, arm in 
 arm, to enjoy the air and the shade in one of 
 their usual hiiunts. It was a little dell, formed 
 by high and sloping grounds, on every side, 
 which entirely shut out, at certain points, the 
 sea, the mountains, every thing but the sky. 
 The hoarse roar of the ocean came subdued to 
 the lonely place, and its own insect-buzz, and 
 the hum of the wild bee among its primroses 
 and buttercups, were the predominant sounds 
 that filled the ear. The young harper, acknow- 
 ledging a fit of musical impulse, had parted 
 from them to reach a favorite retreat, too, 
 which was sacred to his hours of melodious 
 study ; so that they were completely alone. 
 
 Hitherto the maidens had never trusted to 
 one another a hint on the state of their hearts ; 
 each plainly seeing the love of each, yet sure 
 that her own bosom was perfectly disguised. 
 They had been unusually silent during their 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 171 
 
 little walk; and having gained their resting- 
 place, they sat down without a word. At last 
 Esther asked suddenly — 
 
 *' Do you remember the strange woman we 
 met on the way to your house, Eva, the first 
 evening I saw you and your brother ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but I have since scarce thought of 
 her." 
 
 " I have, often; — you remember, too, her 
 extraordinary manner when she looked in my 
 face ? — What was her cause for that ?" 
 
 " Something very absurd, doubtless." 
 
 " But why did she seem to speak of me to 
 your brother, after her strange scrutiny of my 
 features ? You were near enough to hear what 
 she said, and you know her language — what 
 said she ?" 
 
 " It is not worth the while to know, Esther ; 
 and it would be idle in me to inform you." 
 
 " Any thing is worth the while to ask or tell 
 on this idle day — inform me, pretty Eva." 
 
 " Never a word, for that bas6 flattery." 
 
 " Then, Eva only, or dear Eva, let me hear; 
 the matter has lain on my mind, and made me 
 uneasy." 
 
 I 2 
 
172 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " And ^or that reason I must not tell you a 
 foolish story ; had you thought nothing on the 
 matter — had you a mind indifferent to such 
 childishness— I would freely impart what that 
 idle woman said ; but, as it is, I will save you 
 from imaginary flights, that cannot increase 
 your happiness, Esther." 
 
 " Now, indeed, you startle me ; the occur- 
 rence I witnessed had no such effect as your 
 reasons for remaining silent, Eva ; nor can your 
 free confidence and speech, whatever you may 
 disclose, do half the injury to my mind and 
 spirits, that your allusions have done already." 
 
 " I see, indeed, I used an injudicious method 
 of discourse with you, and am sorry for it, dear 
 Esther ; and perhaps my speaking freely will, as 
 you say, now do less real harm than my silence : 
 but can you faithfully promise me to laugh, as 
 I do, at the whole you shall hear? — 'Tis silly, 
 Esther, from beginning to end, with nothing to 
 depend on but the ravings, or perhaps, wilful 
 falsehood, of that poor woman." 
 
 " Be assured I shall treat it as lightly as, on 
 such shewing, it deserves, or as you do ; but 
 go on." 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 173 
 
 " You know that on the eve of All-Saints' 
 Day, along with acting some harmless pastimes, 
 it is the weak, and, indeed, sinful custom of the 
 peasantry, to invoke the Evil Name, that, by 
 its influence, they may see the shadowy resem- 
 blance of the person they are doomed to love. 
 Well ; on the last coming of that blessed eve, 
 as my brother and I, and a circle of young 
 friends, sat around the fire in my father's house, 
 Onash of the cavern lifted the latch of our 
 door, entered, and sat down silently amongst 
 us. She had great fame with the poor people, 
 for her knowledge of the little ceremonies to be 
 gone through on All-Saints' eve, and it was 
 her custom to visit different houses that she 
 might direct them ; but this was her first visit 
 to us. Her pale, undisturbed face, and her si- 
 lence, had a disagreeable eftect on our sports ; 
 yet we proceeded in them, while Onagh looked 
 on. We hid the ring, melted the lead, sent 
 the blindfolded seeker of his fate to the four 
 plates of salt, ashes, water, and earth, burned 
 the nuts in the names of any two we destined for 
 each other, with other like things. Still Onagh 
 did not speak a word ; and at last, affected 
 
174 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 by her strange demeanor, we became as silent 
 and inactive as herself. Then, however, she 
 found her tongue. " All is done that you can 
 do," she said, " and yet nothing that was worth 
 the doing. I can shew, any time, till the cock 
 crows for midnight, the man or the woman any 
 of ye are to love." A girl of the house, taking 
 her at the word, rose with Onagh, and both re- 
 tired into a chamber, dark but for a dull fire 
 that was allowed to burn out in it. I suppose 
 you know as well as I, the various forms in 
 which the wicked invocation is made ; — in the 
 present instance, Onagh caused the young girl 
 to take off and wash a part of her dress, and 
 then spread it out on a chair to dry before the 
 fire. Soon after they had retired, we heard a 
 scream, and the silly girl ran to us from the 
 dark chamber, saying, that a strange man had, 
 while she and Onagh stood with their backs to 
 the door, advanced to the fire and turned the 
 article of dress, which was spread out on the 
 chair. Of course, she either wilfully told a 
 falsehood, or else the terrors of imagination had 
 imposed on her. 
 
 " My brother and I asserted our disbelief of 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 175 
 
 what she said ; and Onagh offered to convince 
 me, in my own person, of the efficacy of her in- 
 vocations, if I would retire into the chamber 
 with her ; but I refused, not, indeed, in fear, 
 Esther, but in contempt, and a dislike to do, 
 idly and uselessly, a sinful thing. Edmund, in 
 a bantering tone, challenged her to shew him 
 the lady he was to love ; and Onagh assented, 
 on condition that he would go out with her to 
 the river side, as, to convince him, another kind 
 of form was to be gone through ; he did so, 
 against my entreaties, and left the house, laugh- 
 ing and light-hearted. 
 
 " In some time he came back, alone, with an 
 altered air ; but, when we asked him of what 
 had happened, and why he looked so, he an- 
 swered, again in good spirits, that he was only 
 tired from clambering over such uneven ground 
 as lay between him and the river, and that 
 Onagh had shewn him nothing for all his trou- 
 ble, but a white-faced horse. The subject 
 dropped ; and till the evening we met you, Est- 
 her, was never renewed." 
 
 " But it was, then ? and it was to it that 
 Onagh made alUision, when she looked on me ? 
 
176 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 did not your brother report truly of his adven- 
 ture ?" 
 
 " He told the truth, but not the whole truth, 
 and what he suppressed did not seem to him 
 worth mentioning. But he forgot to say that 
 Onagh warmly insisted there had been an ap- 
 parition visible to her — a pale and beautiful 
 young lady ; and this he told me since your 
 coming to our glen; for I, as well as you, wish- 
 ed to understand the allusions of Onagh, though 
 I made so light of them, and therefore asked 
 him to tell me." 
 
 " Go on, dear Eva," said Esther, wishing to 
 hear recited the application that was obvious to 
 herself. 
 
 " There is nothing to be added but what you 
 witnessed ; when Onagh saw your face, at the 
 cavern, she told him it was the face of the appa- 
 rition by the river-side." 
 
 " What, Eva ? — my face?" — blushing deep as 
 scarlet, and affecting as much simple astonish- 
 ment as was possible — " now, indeed, I see the 
 absurdity you promised me. And yet, another 
 question. There was, in Onagh's recognition 
 of her old acquaintance, any thing but pleasure. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 177 
 
 or good-will, or satisfaction in such a face for 
 the very improbable destiny to which she was 
 pleased to doom it. I thought she started back 
 in alarm and dislike of me ; and her violent 
 manner, when she ran to speak with your bro- 
 ther, the sound and pitch of her voice, cer- 
 tainly denoted more than a simple declaration 
 that I was the reahty of her spectre. Can 
 you explain this ? Again I recollect you were 
 near enough to catch her words — what did she 
 say ?" 
 
 " I need not disguise, no more than any other 
 part of the foolery, that Onagh certainly ex- 
 pressed dislike of you ; for, as you say, the pur- 
 poses to which she first destined you, and ear- 
 nestly commanded my brother to keep his heart 
 guarded against your infatuations." 
 
 " He has not followed her advice ; that I 
 have plainly seen, a thousand times," thought 
 Esther. " Well, Eva, it was at least very in- 
 consistent, you will admit ; — can you now tell 
 me the cause of her aversion ?" 
 
 " Onagh, herself, must there satisfy you, as I 
 do not pretend ability to find, according to the 
 calculations of the httle common-sense I have, 
 I 3 
 
178 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 good reasons for the raving or mistatement of a 
 fool or an impostor ;" yet Eva was here guilty 
 of a little ingenious reservation; — she really 
 knew the cause of Onagh's dislike to Esther as 
 the lady of Edmund's love, but, with a general 
 appearance of confidence, this— the chief point 
 on which she feared to give uneasiness to her 
 friend — she was resolved not to communicate. 
 
 Esther grew silent, and Eva, too, fell into a 
 reverie, of a nature not unUke that of her com- 
 panion. When they again spoke, it was on a 
 subject seemingly disconnected with the former 
 one, yet really associated by it. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 179 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " Have you noticed the harper's melancholy 
 of late ?" asked Esther. 
 
 " I have, indeed," answered Eva. 
 
 *' Do you guess what is the matter with 
 him ?" 
 
 " I do, as well as you ; — he loves." 
 
 *'Whomr 
 
 '' Either of us." 
 
 " But Hhich ?" 
 
 " That I cannot positively say ; but I think it 
 may be yourself." 
 
 '' You speak this seriously ?" 
 
 '' Seriously ; — from my heart." 
 
 " Then, as seriously I say that I believe you 
 are the object of his devotion." 
 
 " Your reasons ?" 
 
 " Why, you form the theme of his discourse 
 whenever he and I are alone ; he sighs at each 
 mention of your name ; he has addressed a 
 
180 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 sweet air to you ; and he knows you longer than 
 me." 
 
 " But he scarce ever finds a topic for my ear 
 but Esther ; if he sighs, it is in your company ; 
 he walks ever with you ; he has framed as sweet 
 an air for you ; and," Eva added with a sigh of 
 her own, " he knows you long enough to love 
 eternally." 
 
 " Here he comes, however, to aftbrd us more 
 observations," said Esther. Carolan indeed ap- 
 peared in the narrow, but level way, that led 
 into the little retreat, walking erectly, and with 
 the measured firmness of step that marks the 
 gait of a blind man, although his pace seemed 
 less spirited than usual. He was without his 
 harp, and guided himself merely by tapping a 
 switch on the ground before him, as lie had 
 grown quite familiar with the roads and paths 
 generally walked over by the young party. 
 
 " He looks sadder than ever," said Esther. 
 Carolan caught, at some distance, the very low 
 tone in which she spoke, and his pensive ex- 
 pression of face instantly brightened up, and 
 his mouth wore its beautiful smile, as he said, 
 " Aye, here I knew I should find you both." 
 
 " I sincerely hope you may err, Eva, in be- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 181 
 
 lieving me beloved by this poor young harper," 
 Esther continued in a whisper, ere he had quite 
 reached them. 
 
 ^' And why do you hope so, Esther ?" 
 
 " I should not wish," answered Esther, blush- 
 ing under the expressive glance which accom- 
 panied the question, " I should not wish to see 
 him love where he cannot find love in return." 
 
 ** Carolan has many captivations ; it is not im- 
 possible to love him." 
 
 '^ For me it is." 
 
 ''Why?" 
 
 " I do not know ; we cannot compel love." 
 
 " Is that the only reason ?" Eva continued to 
 ask with a smile, when, fortunately for Esther, 
 Carolan came too near to permit her answer ; 
 we say fortunately, for we beheve the answer 
 would have been a little sin, in the shape of a 
 little — we shall not say what. 
 
 *' I could not draw the tune out of my head," 
 he said, standing straight before them, equally 
 balanced on both feet ; '' it would not come for 
 me ; or else there is no good in my clarseech, or 
 my fingers, this day ; yet, in my head and heart 
 it is, if ever I had one in them ; the music of a 
 
182 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 calling to battle, and the gathering for a battle, 
 and the battle itself, fought by fine proud sol- 
 diers, on fine steeds, and the victory, the shout- 
 ing, and the glory." 
 
 " Idle, idle Carolan," said Eva, " you could 
 hav^e put it all on your harp, if you would ; and 
 now it will grow cold in your head and heart, 
 and we shall lose it, for ever." 
 
 " I could not put it on the harp, indeed," he 
 resumed, " my fingers strayed over and over the 
 strings, but brought no sounds that I wanted ; 
 only, instead of such, came sad thrillings and 
 low tones of the wire, that made me weep for 
 company." 
 
 " Sit down by Esther, here, and now smile to 
 her, for company ; I am wanted, for a little 
 space, by your aunt, Esther, but shall return 
 to seek you." 
 
 " Of friendless youth and hopeless love," the 
 young minstrel continued, taking Eva's place 
 as she left them, " were the only sounds of my 
 clarseech." 
 
 " And why should they be the only sounds, 
 Carolan ?" 
 
 " They made the echo of my fortunes," he 
 said, sighing sadly. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 183 
 
 " Nay, friendless you must not call yourself; 
 and when you love, Carolan, why should it be all 
 hopelessly ?" 
 
 " First, sweet lady, I am a poor harper, and 
 woman's love asks, and should get, more honours 
 than my poverty can bestow. I could honour 
 her love in the song," he continued proudly, 
 though mildly ; then, with another sigh, '' but 
 even she who can feel proud at the minstrel's 
 praise, will slight the minstrel. I am blind, too ; 
 do you think it has ever happened that a beau- 
 tiful lady loved a blind man .^" 
 
 " I know not that it has happened," Esther 
 replied, " for my experience is little ; but I see 
 no reason it should not. Blindness, though 
 a great visitation, is the least disagreeable of 
 bodily infirmities ; indeed, it is soon and en- 
 tirely forgotten, when he who is afflicted by it 
 has gentle manners, and, above all, great ta- 
 lents." 
 
 " Then you, dear lady," Carolan asked, in 
 much simplicity, " you could listen to the suit of 
 a bhnd harper ?" 
 
 " I could ; but, Carolan, this matter now re- 
 quires from me an honorable and prompt avow- 
 
184 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 al, for I must not seem to misunderstand you, 
 and it is a lady's part to end, as soon as she has 
 an opportunity, the pain she unwittingly causes. 
 I esteem and honour you, for your talents, your 
 manners, and your good qualities ; nor is your 
 person disagreeable ; and I could have felt — it 
 is possible I might have felt another sentiment, 
 but that — " she hesitated, "I may seem to make 
 an unmaidenly avowal; I think I owe you the 
 full explanation it conveys; and therefore, Ca- 
 rolan, hear me say — but that I loved another." 
 
 " I have erred," he resumed, with little of the 
 agitation the gentle maiden supposed should be 
 visible after her repulse, ^' I must have greatly 
 erred in my words to make you think this con- 
 fidence necessary; and I crave your pardon, 
 dear lady, for the imperfection of my English 
 speech ; alas, alas ! Eva M'Donnell it is that 
 has put the sorrow on my heart, this day." 
 
 *' Then, Carolan," said Esther, rising, and 
 not half so pleased with her exemption from 
 the harper's devotions, as her former avow- 
 als to her friend would seem to make certain, 
 *^ why not at once afford Eva M'Donnell the 
 occasion of speaking to you as plainly as I have 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 185 
 
 done, and which, however she may regard your 
 love, I know she will do ?" 
 
 " I fear to offend her ; I feared, all along, to 
 shew her that I dared to love ; her grand spirit, 
 if she knew it, would crush and kill my heart." 
 
 " I will engage for my friend, that no word 
 she utters, whatever may be her answer, will 
 hurt your ear. I will do more, if you permit 
 me to save you an intimation of your feelings, I 
 will, this moment, seek her, and engage that she 
 shall come hither to reply to them." 
 
 " Oh, that would be too sudden," he said, 
 greatly agitated, " but, do you think — do you 
 know, as from your speech I fear you do, that 
 the flower of GlenarrifF has already seen, and 
 already despised my love ?" 
 
 " 1 know that she is unconscious you love 
 her ; what may be her affections towards you I 
 cannot tell; but I see her approaching us at a dis- 
 tance — shall I speak to Eva, for you, Carolan ?" 
 
 *' Oh, no, no," he exclaimed, clasping his 
 hands ; but after a pause, " yet do — do, sweet 
 lady ; I will know njy lot at once, do, and,*" 
 taking her hand and kissing it, while his tears 
 fell fast, ** and the joy of this Ufe, and the bless- 
 
186 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 ing of God be upon the wish of your own 
 heart!" 
 
 Esther accordingly went to meet Eva. The 
 young ladies spoke but a short time, when Eva 
 M'Donnell parted from her friend, swept along 
 the little approach to the dell, and entered it 
 with a rapid step, an erect figure, a curved back, 
 an arching neck, and a flushed cheek. 
 
 " That is her foot," said Carolan, " treading 
 the earth as she would on me, and bruising 
 its tender flowers, as she comes to bruise my 
 hope." 
 
 Eva found him standing ; the state of his 
 feelings did not permit him to remain at rest, 
 and he still stood upright, as was his air, al- 
 though his limbs shook, his face was pale, and 
 his features shewed the despairing and, indeed, 
 terror-stricken anticipations of his spirit. 
 
 " Carolan I" she began, the moment she en- 
 tered the dell, " but sit down, Carolan, this af- 
 fects you too much; take my hand, sit down, and 
 grow calmer ere we speak." 
 
 He did take, or rather touch her hand ; she 
 led him to a bank of wild flowers ; sat by his 
 side ; and there was a long pause, which the 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 187 
 
 minstrel did not interrupt, even by one of the 
 sighs that were breaking his heart for utterance. 
 At last Eva went on. 
 
 " You, dear Carolan, of all men upon the 
 earth, have honoured me, in this matter ; and 
 you, of all men upon the earth, shall not suffer 
 a moment's uncertainty which I can prevent. 
 Esther Evelyn has told me you love me ; my 
 bosom fills with "pride to hear it said ; I thank 
 you ; I am grateful ; but, let one word end it — 
 I, too, love — and, alas, alas, not Carolan." 
 
 " Well ;" he said, in a low, almost inaudible 
 voice ; " Well, it is, and it is not what I expect- 
 ed. I knew you could never think of me, Eva ; 
 so far, your answer agrees with my despair ; 
 but I feared also you would have spurned me, 
 harshly and cruelly — and — and this kindness, 
 goodness" — tears now suffused his blank eyes 
 and streamed over his cheeks ; '^ Oh, Eva, it 
 is too much ; I did not deserve it." 
 
 " Not, Carolan ! what unworthy opinion do 
 you hold of yourself or me ? how could you fear 
 that any woman would not own herself honour- 
 ed by the love of him, whose soul is made more 
 noble by the song, than by their station arc 
 
188 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 belted earls or crowned kings ? whose heart is 
 virtuous and pure, and whose name, even while 
 he is yet green in youth, has gone forth towards 
 futurity ? least of all, how could you suppose, in 
 Eva M'Donnell, such a woman ? Nay, by my 
 mother's sainted soul," she continued in high 
 and sincere enthusiasm, " I say again, I am 
 prouder of your love, this day, the first, as it 
 is, that has ever graced the almost childish years 
 of Eva, than if the world's highest hero, or 
 greatest prince knelt, where you sit, an humble 
 suitor at my feet." 
 
 The poor harper could only weep on. 
 
 " And, Carolan, you shall love me still — as I 
 love you — as brother and sister love, when 
 their hearts are truly knit in nature's purest af- 
 fection ; this you shall promise me ; because, to 
 lose your esteem, the happiness and the honor 
 of your friendship, by what it has here been my 
 duty to say, would, indeed, cloud the days of 
 Eva for ever ; let me still have the joy of your 
 harp; and when I speak, in social discourse, the 
 sentiments of an ardent heart, let me still see 
 your bright smile applaud me ; for the rest, — the 
 love of some more worthy maiden shall be your 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 189 
 
 reward ; you deserve it : forget this chance ; 
 chance it has been ; when you first came to 
 GlenarrifF, I was the only maiden you often 
 met, and so it happened ; but forget it ; you 
 are very young, and it must soon fade away in 
 the brighter Hght that the tenderest love of an- 
 other and a more deserving shall pour upon 
 your heart." 
 
 " I thank you, Eva," he said at last in a 
 calmer melancholy ; " I thank and bless you ; 
 but it will never fade away ; and it was not 
 chance ; more than a year has passed since first 
 I heard your voice under your father's roof, and 
 it thrilled over the strings of my soul, like lofty 
 music struck by the hand of some great mas- 
 ter ; I cannot see your face — alas, scarce can I 
 even imagine what makes a face beautiful ; very 
 early in my childhood the blight came on my 
 eyes ; and tho' I have since often tried to dis- 
 cern, with the inward eye of memory, the faces 
 that bent over my cradle, they are blank and 
 shapeless, without a difference between them; 
 and, after all, I believe they come to my mind, 
 a little distinct from my cloudy notion of other 
 objects, only by the touch that has since ena- 
 
190 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 bled me to tell any one thing from another." 
 " But the face of nature is not a blank to 
 your memory, Carolan," Eva said, willing to fix 
 him in the unconscious dioression he,had made. 
 " I fear it is," he answered, sighing, " the 
 great forms of the hills around my father's 
 house sometimes, indeed, are in my mind ; but 
 all smaller ones, little observed by infancy, 
 have died away ; the trees, that I have heard 
 you speak of, as beautiful in summer, the rocks, 
 the shrubs, and the flowers ; I know not the 
 rose by its colour ; and when I have thought to 
 learn its shape by my fingers, alas, Eva, it has 
 stung them to the quick ; even the mountains, 
 whose form I think I recollect, are not green, 
 or blue, as you describe other mountains, when 
 seen at different distances, nor know I the 
 meaning of your words ; — -one only appearance 
 of nature dwells strongly in my mind ; it was 
 the dark red light in an evening sky, rolled over 
 by clouds as black as my fortunes, and reflected 
 in the wide water ; — no, dearest Eva, he who 
 loves you better than any other man can ever 
 love, knows not the beauty of your face ; but 
 when I turn mine towards it, and am sure that 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 191 
 
 it is sliining on me, I think it is an air, sweet 
 and grand as ever harper played, — oh ! it 
 makes music round about me. And now, Eva, 
 I will never more speak to you of love ; you 
 allow me to be your friend ; I thank you, and 
 I will ; I thank you, over and over, for all your 
 goodness, this day ; you shall see me smile, 
 too ; and, if you like, you may believe it has 
 been lit up by another love, and that the poor 
 harper is happy." 
 
 " Then, take my hand, Carolan ; take it 
 freely — nay, turn your lips to my cheek — to my 
 lips, even, if you will ; brother and sister may 
 so meet and part ; and where honor lives in 
 two hearts, actions cannot be misunderstood; 
 be happy, dear Carolan ; as happy as you me- 
 rit, or as my prayers can make you." 
 
 He took her hand; he kissed, almost reve- 
 rently, her brow and cheek, but no more ; his 
 tears wetting Eva's face, and calling from her 
 eyes a fuller shower than, since her mother's 
 death, they had sent forth. 
 
 A scream reached them from another little 
 valley, separated from that in which they sat 
 only by the rising ground that was a common 
 
19^ THE BOYNK WATER. 
 
 division to both. Eva knew it was Esther's 
 voice, as they had agreed she should there 
 await the conclusion of the interview with Caro- 
 lan. Seizing his arm, she rapidly conveyed her 
 blind companion, by a level way, to the spot. 
 Esther was alone, but greatly agitated. 
 
 " That woman !" she exclaimed, the moment 
 her friends appeared ; " that terrible woman !" 
 
 " Whom ?" they asked her, in a breath. 
 
 " I was sitting in this lonely .and noiseless 
 place, busied with deep and perhaps sad 
 thoughts, and some frightful ones — in fact, 
 dearest Eva, T was thinking of her, and, I 
 know not why, of the matters you and I talked 
 over, in connexion with her — my head rested 
 on my hands — my eyes buried in the ground 
 — when, raising them, Onagh of the cavern sat, 
 immediately before me, on that low flat stone, 
 in the twilight ; her shockingly pale face turned 
 fully to mine, and her dead black eye watching 
 me. How^ she entered the dell, and came so 
 near without startling me, I cannot imagine. 
 When our looks first met I did not scream ; 
 nor for some time after; until, wrought upon 
 by her fixed glare and terrible silence, fear gra- 
 
THB BOYNE WATER. 
 
 195 
 
 dually chilled my heart, and at last I cried out 
 in frenzy ; — then, in the act of going away, she 
 spoke — oh, Eva, such words !" 
 
 " Of what import can they be, dearest Est- 
 her, coming from such a person, whatever they 
 were? — yet" — drawing her friend aside, and 
 whispering her, " let me hear them faithfully." 
 
 " Dearest Eva," replied Esther, falling,, in 
 tears, on her neck, and all her presence of mind 
 defeated — " I will faithfully tell you — you are 
 thinking of him," she said, " but, think first of 
 your winding-sheet." 
 
 " Tush — idle raving, all," resumed Eva, " and 
 to prove it is, Esther — dear Esther — sister — he 
 loves you as fondly as you love him, and, as I 
 love your brother." 
 
 " And that," added Esther, as the maidens 
 embraced each other, ** that is only as well as 
 my brother loves you." 
 
 As fate would have it, this happened to be a 
 day of general explanations^ Whilst, in the 
 first shade of twilight, the young sisters thus 
 confessed to each other the mighty secret, that, 
 however, was no secret at all to either, though 
 each thought it was, their young brothers stood 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
194 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 in the same shade of the nightfall, surrounded 
 by the noble solitude of what is called the 
 Great Deer-Park of Antrim Castle, a stag lying 
 dead at their feet, and their large, round-head- 
 ed, long-eared, black-muzzled Irish stag-hounds, 
 crouching, tired and contented, around. They 
 had out-ridden, a considerable distance, the rest 
 of the huntsmen, at whose head was the old 
 earl of Antrim, and were the only two of a nu- 
 merous party in at the death. Their horses, 
 blown and jaded, stood, with drooping heads, 
 near them ; for they had just alighted to des- 
 patch with their hunting-knives the baffled 
 chase. 
 
 " It is but a poor triumph, after all, Evelyn,'* 
 said Edmund, after they had for some time, and 
 in silence, regarded the dead stag — " while the 
 game is up, and the horns and cheering echoed 
 by the hills, I like a hunting well; nayji there is 
 hot pleasure in bounding from the saddle to 
 give, at the risk of one's own life or limb, the 
 noble animal his death-wound ; but to see him 
 lie there, butchered at our hands, while we 
 stand holding these bloody knives — this is not 
 pleasant. I wish the other hunters would come 
 up." 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 195 
 
 " I wish they would," said Evelyn, " and I 
 agree it is a sorry prowess ; but, better that the 
 peace of the land allows us such a pastime, than 
 that we should be called, by the voice of civil 
 discord, to another butchering; — had we met 
 only some years sooner, M'Donnell, perhaps 
 our different prejudices, made active by the 
 spirit of the times, would not have allowed us 
 to unsheathe a blade in the same hunting." 
 
 " Alas, perhaps not, Evelyn ; yet I own no 
 prejudices, in my heart, that could, or ever 
 can, make me indifferent to the happiness of 
 your friendship." 
 
 " Nor I, M'Donnell, that could ever make 
 me regret yours ;" they clasped hands. 
 
 " It is in such pauses of civil frenzy, that 
 men get calmness and reason to enable them 
 almost to laugh at the imaginary distinctions 
 which 4hey would before have given or taken a 
 life to uphold, and which, I fear, are only 
 preached up into unreal existence by the knave 
 in politics, and the griping or bigotted in the 
 ministry of different religions. What, to you 
 or me, is the creed of the other ?" 
 
 V 9 
 
196 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " Nothing, for a quarrel, Evelyn," said Ed- 
 mund, smiling. 
 
 " Then, let them rave as they will- — there can 
 be faith in friendship between idolaters and he- 
 retics, Edmund." 
 
 " And why not in love, too, Evelyn?" 
 
 " Indeed, I see no reason," his friend an- 
 swered, a little out of countenance. 
 
 " So, you dare love a papist maiden ?" 
 
 " I dare — Edmund, I do." 
 
 " I know you do, Evelyn — come, it is well 
 that this has chanced as it has ; and let it be 
 despatched as quickly as it springs up ; nay, 
 quickly it must be ; for, hark to the call of the 
 earl's bugle from the next valley — first let me 
 answer it;" he put his own bugle to his lips 
 and blew an answering note — " and now, Eve- 
 lyn, you love Eva M'Donnell?" 
 
 " I do — well and dearly." 
 
 " And, there can be no question, honorably." 
 
 " None — while I live to answer it." 
 
 " I never doubted ; you honor us much, 
 Evelyn, humbled as we are, and almost portion- 
 less as Eva is — you know she is ?" 
 
 *' Perhaps I knew ; but I cared not." 
 
THE BOVNE WATER* 197 
 
 "'^ And, in a word, you would wed her, pa- 
 pists as we are, and knowing this ?" his friend 
 bluntly and warmly assented. 
 
 " My permission, then, to address her, and 
 my service with her father and herself to join 
 their permission also, you shall have, on a con- 
 dition." 
 
 Evelyn stood more erect ; he had never ob- 
 served Edmund's love for Esther, as it was bet- 
 ter disguised than his own for Eva, and the 
 condition he expected to hear named was — 
 having heard much of the efforts of Roman Ca- 
 tholics to make proselytes, — thus conveyed in 
 his answer. 
 
 ^* You know I am a protestant, on convic- 
 tion, Edmund." 
 
 " Yes, and mean nothing to change it." 
 " And what, then ? — what condition ?" 
 " You have a sister, too, Evelyn." 
 " Hold you there, now ! — Is that it ?" 
 " That is it," said Edmund, his rallying tone 
 failing him, as he blushed deeply. 
 
 " Take your condition then — a bargain?" once 
 more he thrust out his hand. 
 
 " A bargain," M'Donnell answered, and palm 
 
198 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 met palm with so loud a smack, that the slum- 
 bering stag-hounds opened their eyes and prick- 
 ed up their heavy ears at it. 
 
 The earl brought up his huntsmen ; the stag 
 was quartered ; and all turned their horses' 
 heads from the hunting-valley, the old noble- 
 man reminding the two friends that they were 
 to share his board on that evening. In a breath, 
 they protested, however, that it was now impos- 
 sible for them to have the honour ; that some- 
 thing had just occurred to require their speedy 
 departure from Glenarm; something of deep 
 moment; in fact they urged, with no appear- 
 ance of consistency, such fiery speed, that the 
 earl observed as they spurred from him — 
 
 " There go two gallants who may be found in 
 the next convenient glen, with skeins at each 
 other's throats ; a brawl about field-craft, I 
 reckon." 
 
 But the friends turned into no glen on the 
 road, till they had reached Esther's cottage, 
 just as a young moon predominated over the 
 waning twilight. They entered the cottage so 
 flushed and agitated, that their sisters held for 
 a moment something of the same opinion of the 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 199 
 
 cause, as that glanced at by the old nobleman; 
 but when they sat down to supper laughing and 
 rallying each other, and when the maidens saw 
 the confident sparkhng of their eyes, as they ex- 
 changed glances, or ventured to bestow them 
 elsewhere, Eva, at least, began to guess the true 
 reason for such excitement ; and when she did 
 so, Eva looked as chill and as haughty as could, 
 in her teens, the httle goddess to whom we have 
 once compared her. 
 
 This corrected the exuberance of the young 
 men's spirits, and, to divert particular thoughts 
 and appearances, Carolan was, over and over, 
 called on for the music of his harp. He com- 
 plied readily, but in unusual silence, if not re- 
 serve of manner. Poor Carolan! he knew, 
 though he wanted eyes, the meaning of the 
 novel scene around him. Strains of young and 
 hopeful love, Evelyn and Edmund asked for, 
 unconscious of the agony at the minstrefs heart; 
 but this has been better said, by him whose 
 poetry is a happy, though a late echo of some of 
 the very notes Carolan then performed — 
 
 " Ah, little they think who delight in his strains, 
 How the heart of the minstrel is breaking !" 
 
200 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 A sea-shore walk in the moonlight was pro- 
 posed, upon an evening so mild and beautiful, 
 and Carolan asked to join it, with the strong 
 hope that he would refuse; but the happy 
 youths need not have done their warm esteem 
 for Carolan such a violence, as, for the first 
 time, to fear his consent to be of tlieir party ; it 
 was unnecessary — he did refuse; and the two 
 sisters and the two brothers rose to take the 
 walk, that, ere its close, was to shape their fates 
 for ever. 
 
 As they went out at the door, Carolan could 
 understand that, with more than usual pertina- 
 city, each sister clung to the arm of her own 
 brother. He remained alone in his blindness 
 and his despair. His little harp hung neglect- 
 ed at his arm, and for some time he sat motion- 
 less, and, seemingly, not agitated. But it was 
 the boiling up within him of stronger and worse 
 feelings than he had ever yet experienced, that 
 kept the young harper outwardly quiet. He 
 saw, in his mind, Eva relinquishing, after the 
 party had left the house, the arm of her brother, 
 and taking that of EveJyn ; they spoke but 
 briefly, together ; her acknowledgment of \ove^ 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 201 
 
 made to Carolan himself, and the spirited can- 
 dour of her disposition, left Eva no room to he- 
 sitate ; she surrendered her hand to Evelyn, his 
 arm stole, unforbidden, round her waist — her 
 neck — she yielded up to her chosen youth the 
 first kiss of assured love. Carolan started to 
 his feet; he hated, loathed his happy rival. 
 
 But a better nature soon asserted itself. He 
 sat down again — he touched his harp — he wept; 
 and in this situation was found by his friends, 
 on their return from their walk, with, each, not 
 the same lady on his arm as when they had left 
 the cottage. Of this change he also became 
 conscious the moment they crossed the thresh- 
 old ; and he arose to meet them, for the first 
 time no't smiling. 
 
 " Now," he said, " ye are as happy as any of 
 God's creatures, this night, and my peace and 
 my blessing be with you," turning to the door — 
 all asked in surprise or sorrow whither he was 
 going. 
 
 *' To be happy, too," he answered, " think- 
 ing of the joy of this house. Give me one cup of 
 wine." He held it in his hand on the threshold, 
 " As there is a judge to judge me, I drink this 
 
 K 3 
 
202 THE BOYNE WATER, 
 
 toast from the bottom of my heart; may the joy 
 of love returned, which you all know, never 
 meet a blight in this world !" He drained the cup» 
 " And now farewell and my blessing, again — 1 
 know the road to the village." 
 
 " Carolan ! dear Carolan !" cried Eva, catch- 
 ing his arm. 
 
 " No, Eva," he said, " I will return, or we 
 will meet again, but I cannot stay here to-night ; 
 I have done enough, and it was not easily done, 
 to say what I have said, from the bottom of the 
 heart. God bless you, and him you love !" 
 
 She resumed her entreaties for him to stay, 
 and was joined by Esther and the young men. 
 But Carolan would not be prevailed on ; they 
 saw him turn off from the door ; they stood at 
 the door and watched him moving alone in the 
 moonlight, along the narrow road — he disap- 
 peared, and all sat down, in more tears and sor- 
 row than befitted the new and happy situation 
 of their hearts. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 203 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 But the sincerest grief for others is gradually, 
 if not very soon, forgotten in the selfishness of 
 our own joy. The young lovers quickly lost sight 
 of every thing and person on the earth, except 
 themselves ; and many delicious months elapsed 
 in the uncloying enjoyment of walking together 
 over the same scenes, sitting? tof^jether in the 
 same places, and repeating and hearing, over 
 and over, the same vows, protestations, and flat- 
 tery. By mere chance they bestowed a little 
 occasional thought on the peculiarity of their 
 relative worldly situations, and the plan accord- 
 ing to whii:h they were ultimately to — get mar- 
 ried; and thus was the matter arranged. 
 
 In the first place, neither uncle Paul nor his 
 lady was to be male acquainted with their 
 loves and engagements, until Evelyn should 
 gain his twenty-first year ; then his own master. 
 
204 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 and also, according to his father's will, the guar- 
 dian of Esther, a communication might be 
 vouchsafed, and, merely as matter of form, a 
 consent asked, with slight anxiety as to whether 
 the little gentleman should applaud or disap- 
 prove. It seemed worth while to secure, how- 
 ever, the approbation of their nearest relative ; 
 and in this view, Evelyn planned to invent some 
 means of breaking the business to Paul, when 
 he should be separated from immediate collision 
 with his good lady, and least in dread of her re- 
 buke ; under such circumstances Evelyn did 
 not doubt being able to obtain, merely by a 
 little plausibility, and the presenting his uncle 
 with a new idea, a prompt assent to every 
 thing he asked ; and such permission reduced 
 to writing, as the nephew resolved should hap- 
 pen, any subsequent recantations of the party, 
 made under the influence of threat and terror, 
 would go for nothing; or even should he fail 
 altogether in this quarter, Evelyn was sure of 
 success in another. Should uncle Paul refuse, 
 there was as good a consent to be had from 
 uncle Jerry ; so, the full countenance of old 
 McDonnell being already obtained, the lovers 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 205 
 
 loved on with scarce a shade of doubt to dim 
 the noontide brightness of their young hopes 
 and prospects. 
 
 Having brought them to this happy state, we 
 own, as nearly three years are yet to elapse be- 
 fore Evelyn comes of age, that we must skip a 
 good deal of their raptures. But it is gratify- 
 ing not to be obliged altogether to lose sight for 
 so long a period, of persons in whom, apart from 
 their tiresome love-making, we feel really inter- 
 ested ; and with considerable pleasure we there- 
 fore announce, whatever may have been their 
 feelings on the subject, that in about a year, or 
 perhaps more, after the coming of Evelyn and 
 his sister to GlenarrifF, he received such an ac- 
 count of the state of certain properties in the 
 West Indies, as forced him, in some alarm, to 
 open his eyes to the world, its base dross and 
 ungenerous concerns, and finally to decide on a 
 voyage across the Atlantic. 
 
 Here, again, is a pleasing situation for a re- 
 newal of lovers' vows, with, for the first time, 
 the relief of their tears, regrets, and lamenta- 
 tions ; but all this we again pass by, or leave to 
 be supplied by imaginations more tender than 
 
206 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 our own ; and supposing Evelyn clear of it, we 
 hurry him, with Edmund as his companion, to 
 the point of embarkation, over the long and 
 bad road then lying between CushindoU and 
 Belfast, between Belfast and Dublin ; and on 
 the evening of a day, early in the year 1687, 
 the two friends are entering Dubhn on horse- 
 back. 
 
 Not Dublin of the present day, spreading, 
 almost equally, north and south of the Anna- 
 LifFey, (x\uin LoufFa, " the swift river,") with her 
 spacious squares, broad streets, her clusters of 
 public buildings, her seven beautiful bridges, and 
 her unrivalled quays ; but Dublin of 1687, a 
 scattering of ill-built houses lying, nearly, on 
 the south side of the river only ; with no build- 
 ings of import except its two old cathedrals, its 
 chui'ches, and its castle, the seat of the vice- 
 roy ; with but two ugly bridges of stone, since 
 pulled down ; with no squares, no Stephen's 
 Green, no Sackville Street ; with one of the 
 finest piles that now faces, at least as fine a 
 one, in the heart of the " west-end," then called 
 " Trinity College, 7iear Dublin ;" and, finally, 
 with scarce ten thousand inhabitants ; for, a 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 20T 
 
 census having been taken not twenty years be- 
 fore, the population amounted to httle more 
 than eight thousand. 
 
 The travellers, approaching from the north- 
 ern road, entered the city through Church 
 Street and Bridge Street, leaving to their right 
 a half-peopled district, boasting, however, one 
 church, St. Michael's ; crossed the river at Old 
 Bridge ; and then, hy Bridge Gate, got into 
 the out-skirts of the only important part of 
 Dublin. Continuing along High Street, they 
 passed, at the right-hand corner of Skinner's 
 Row, a handsome, modern-looking house, built 
 indeed, only four years before, that is, in 1683, 
 by the corporation of the city, and called The 
 Tholsel ; here the w^orthy men held their 
 " courts ;" and, though every trace of the build- 
 ing has passed away, yet are not the proceed- 
 ings of the loyalists of Skinner's Row, nor of 
 their collateral descendants, the aldermen of 
 Skinner's Alley, as cleanly rooted out in the 
 minds of even the present generation. 
 
 While approaching the castle, the friends 
 met a crowd of men issuing from one of its 
 gates, who, as they walked together in some 
 
S08 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 military order, and wore military uniform, seem- 
 edi although now unarmed, to have recently 
 been soldiers ; and this presumption was assisted 
 by seeing, at their head, or mixed up with them, 
 many gentlemen in the full attire of officers of 
 different rank, except that, like the crowd, they 
 had no arms. While all passed by our travel- 
 lers, they shewed, in the expression of their 
 faces, much discontent, astonishment, or dejec- 
 tion ; or else bitterer and more angry feelings, 
 as they turned J:o scowl at a mob of brats and 
 women who walked by their sides, and saluted 
 them with groans, hisses, and revilings. 
 
 Evelyn and McDonnell regarded this scene 
 in complete ignorance of what it meant, until a 
 gentleman, one of a few in civil costume, who 
 accompanied, as if in condolence, those who 
 seemed officers, fixed his eyes on Evelyn, sa- 
 luted him, and received his salute, and hastily 
 shaking hands with his companion, advanced 
 to welcome him to Dublin. Evelyn introduced 
 this individual to Edmund as Mr. Robert Fitz- 
 gerald, the old friend of his father, and the 
 person on whose account he had come out of 
 his way to embark at Dublin for England. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 209 
 
 Then he inquired the meaning of the scene of 
 which they were spectators, and his new com- 
 panion answered, in an emphatic whisper, and 
 while he trembled with agitation — 
 
 " You see some of the flower of our loyal 
 protestant army, and our only protectors, dis- 
 banded — stripped — plundered, by the bigotted 
 papist Talbot, and thrust out, unprovided for, 
 and almost naked, to make room for an army 
 of his own choosing." 
 
 Both the young men expressed their unfeign- 
 ed astonishment at this explanation. Living in 
 a remote and insulated district, as, for the last 
 year, they had done, enjoying the idle dreams 
 of love alone, and voluntarily shutting out even 
 the echoes of the great world, they were com- 
 pletely ignorant of the political aspect of things, 
 and of the changes that had taken place in the 
 mean time. They only recollected that, ere the 
 commencement of their luscious vision, a new- 
 king had ascended in peace the throne of Great 
 Britain, and in welcome, too, from all classes 
 and sects of his people ; continuing at peace, 
 themselves, they took it for granted that so did 
 the world also ; that nothing could occur to 
 
'^10 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 dash the national quiet, at first so apparently 
 certain, and by the way, so sympathetic with 
 the union of hearts and hands they experienced 
 and proposed. But here was a stern reality to 
 shake them from their dream ; here was a scene 
 sufficient to kindle anew the most violent flames 
 of national discord ; nay, here was a gentleman 
 describing it with an energy and agitation cha- 
 racteristic of party-spirit already roused to its 
 full sensitiveness, on the one side, while the 
 feelings evinced by the mob, indicated an equal 
 vivacity of the other side. 
 
 " Hark to the hootings of the papist rabble !" 
 Mr. Fitzgerald continued, " hark to their cur- 
 like triumph over the disarming and downfal 
 of the only men able and willing to preserve us 
 from their venom .and barbarity — from plunder- 
 ing, murdering, and extermination — from ano- 
 ther Forty-one l" 
 
 *•' What is the meaning of all this ?" Edmund 
 asked, his face reddening ; and, " when did 
 these changes begin to occur ?" asked Evelyn. 
 
 " Not so very lately — nor^since you are so 
 astonished at what you here see — is this all," 
 answered Mr. Fitzgerald, "but I perceive, bu- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 211 
 
 ried in the country as you have been, you re- 
 quire proper information on the true state of 
 things — so, come with me to my house, young 
 gentlemen — a party of sorrowful friends take 
 supper with me, this evening— come — dismount, 
 and let us walk together ;" and accordingly the 
 travellers accompanied to his residence the not 
 uncelebrated man, who afterwards secured to 
 William III. his good city of Dublin, and who 
 was ancestor of Ireland's only duke — Leinster. 
 
 A sorrowful party indeed, and, withal, an 
 indignant one, surrounded our young friends at 
 supper. Silence prevailed, almost entirely, dur- 
 ing the meal ; but, when the host had given — 
 " The King, and better councils to his Majesty !" 
 — and when the servants in attendance had re- 
 ceived orders to go away, they being almost 
 all Roman Catholics, Mr. Fitzgerald, address- 
 ing himself to Evelyn, resumed the conversa- 
 tion he had broken off in the street. 
 
 " More, much more than what you have seen 
 remains to be told, my good young friend" — - : 
 
 " But first, if you please," interrupted Eve- 
 lyn, " why are the soldiers disbanded ?" 
 
 ** On a pretence that the rebellion of Mon- 
 
2\2 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 mouth, just put down in England, has spread 
 to the old militia, in this kingdom, we have 
 received from the king and the English coun- 
 cil, an order to collect in, through the whole 
 country, their arms, and deposit them in the 
 several stores of each county. I was, myself, 
 one of the first victims to this order ; but our 
 popish general-in-chief, Talbot, now, forsooth, 
 Earl of Tyrconnel, lately applying it according 
 to his own construction, has proceeded to ca- 
 shier all officers who have been of the Parlia- 
 ment army, or of Oliver's army, or the sons of 
 such ; Captain Coote, Sir Oliver St. George, 
 and my lord Shannon, here, for instance." 
 
 " Before the Lord, sir," said the notorious 
 Coote, " more than two hundred of our most 
 Godly have been stripped of their commis- 
 sions, and more than five thousand old soldiers 
 of the parliament, beggared." 
 
 "The men even to be deprived of their cloth- 
 ing, and no equivalent offered for the commis- 
 sions we had purchased," said the needy Irish 
 nobleman. 
 
 " While," said Sir Oliver, " the refined cru- 
 elties practised in cold blood, on the unfortu- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 213 
 
 nate adherents of the gallant and royal Mon- 
 mouth, by the infamous Kirke, in the field, and 
 by the as infamous Jeffries on the bench, seem 
 to give us a specimen of what defenceless men 
 are to expect from the tyrannical spirit of the 
 times." 
 
 " Then a new levy of papists is proposed, 
 I warrant you," resumed Fitzgerald. 
 
 " The most extraordinary and dangerous act 
 of power we have yet seen," said the Reverend 
 William King, president of the chapter of St. 
 Patrick's, " is the arbitrary dispensing with the 
 test oaths, by taking of which alone, the law 
 had contemplated the admissibility of any man 
 into any situation of trust ; no greater safeguard 
 had we for our lives and liberties, as I have 
 shewn, at some length, in my reply ' to the 
 considerations' that have induced that arch 
 apostate, Peter Manby, late dean of Derry, to 
 conform to the abominations of the popish 
 creed." 
 
 ** No greater safeguard, indeed," remarked 
 Sir Richard Reynel, ex-justice of the King's 
 Bench, " since, in consequence of its being so 
 illegally dispensed with, Alexander Fitten now 
 
S14 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 sits Lord Chancellor, in the room of a worthy 
 man, and he an apostate, and convicted of for- 
 gery at Chester assizes, and in Westminster 
 Hall, and afterwards fined as such by the Eng- 
 lish House of Lords ; while creatures no better 
 than himself rule the courts of law under him ; 
 stich as Sir Bryan O'Neale, in the King's Bench, 
 a man crippled in mind and body, but of venom 
 and zeal ; and elsewhere, that able knave, Ste- 
 phen Rice, one who deports himself as if he 
 feared no after-reckoning, and who has sworn 
 to drive a coach and six through the acts of 
 settlement." 
 
 " But what," asked a stout gentleman, " can 
 equal in abuse and vexation the dissolving of 
 the charter of the corporation of this city, first 
 vainly attempted last year, and manfully resisted 
 by myself, John Knox, then Lord Mayor, but 
 now fully effected, whereby professed papists 
 are admitted to civic places and honors, power 
 and emolument?" 
 
 *' Nothing can equal it," answered a slim 
 gentleman, who had once been sheriff-elect — 
 called, indeed, but never chosen — " except it 
 may be the measures that are on foot to re- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 215 
 
 turn popish sheriffs for every county in Ire- 
 land." 
 
 " What is to be done ?" said more than one 
 of the company, speaking together. 
 
 " What indeed," echoed the reverend presi- 
 dent of chapter, " when protectants are thus 
 jostled in all their immunities in church and 
 state." 
 
 " If it is sought," said Edmund, " to displace 
 all protestants and protestant influence, in or- 
 der to substitute catholics and catholic influ- 
 ence, exclusively, let protestants resist to the 
 last drop of blood in their veins ; but if, after a 
 season of protestant m.onopoly, it is only sought 
 to allow catholics, in common with other fellow- 
 subjects, the opportunities according to which 
 they may grow, with equal merit or industry, 
 equally distinguished or independent, then let 
 protestants pause before they risk, by a resist- 
 ance, which, after all, can spring only from a 
 reaching after continued monopoly, the peace, 
 happiness, and blood of this miserable coun- 
 
 try-" 
 
 '•' Aye, but, M'Donnell," said Evelyn, as all 
 present stared at his friend, " the violent man- 
 
^16 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 ner of these proceedings would seem to make 
 unnecessary the last case you have put." 
 
 " I take as granted," resumed Edmund, 
 that I have, for the first time indeed, heard 
 truly related the manner and spirit of this Tyr- 
 connel's measures ; and I admit that, upon such 
 a shewing, Irish protestants have cause to fear 
 worse than equality with their Roman Catholic 
 fellow-subjects; but even so, I maintain that 
 his measures and their spirit are encroachments 
 as well upon the instructions he has received, 
 as upon the real and sincere views of Roman 
 Catholics, in general ; I say, Evelyn, that nei- 
 ther the king, his master, nor yet the Roman 
 Catholics of this or the other country, wish to 
 disturb the estabHshed religion of the state, the 
 established right of property, or the eligibility 
 to civil and political power, of any sect or 
 party." 
 
 " The youth speaks, I think, reasonably," 
 said another reverend person, one of the same 
 sentiments with those who, some years after, 
 were, in consequence of their scrupulous ideas 
 of hereditary right, called in England non- 
 jurors — The professions of the new king are 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 217 
 
 to grant liberty of conscience to his people of 
 every sect ; witness the truth of his intentions 
 in his indulgence to dissenters ; and I do agree 
 that we should pause to distinguish between 
 being deprived of the opportunity to monopo- 
 lize, and the freedom to participate — between 
 changing places, and only sharing places — with 
 the hitherto excluded sect. As to the bigotted 
 fury of Tyrconnel, I again agree with the young 
 speaker, that no instructions, known to us, which 
 he has received, warrant him in indulging it; 
 and here — laying his hand on a public docu- 
 ment — here is a declaration of the popish lords, 
 Arundel, Powis, and Bellasis, lately admitted 
 into the royal privy-council, saying of him, 
 'that fellow in Ireland is fool and madman 
 enough to ruin ten kingdoms.' " 
 
 " Dr. Gates charged him with the plot," ob- 
 served the Rev. William King ;" and, if the wor- 
 thy doctor was a bad evidence, he was no false 
 prophet, as the saying is." 
 
 '* But to the point, reverend brother," urged 
 the last speaker, "if, after a rebellious attack 
 on his crown by his ba-stard nephew, and the 
 old disturbers of royalty, king James has natu- 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
218 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 ral fears of the fealty of such, in this kingdom, 
 as fought against his fkther, Charles I., why 
 should we much wonder at the late military re- 
 ductions ? — if the test oath be dispensed with, 
 and, by that means, papists rendered eligible to 
 commissions in the army, to places on the bench, 
 in the civic chair, or in the sheriff's box, are 
 protestants excluded at the same time ? There 
 are yet officers, soldiers, judges, and aldermen, 
 of the estabUshed church, and there may be. 
 Therefore, I say again, let us consider ere we 
 think of openly resisting this first act of sove- 
 reign power, which seems so much to fright us 
 all, lest men should say that we opposed our 
 king not because we were to be deprived of 
 our freedom or our rights, but because we were 
 called on to divide them." 
 
 " Or," rejoined Edmund, "lest such opposi- 
 tion, working upon the natural passions of a 
 king, who is no more than man, after all, should 
 provoke him from the reasonable assertion of 
 justice into the rash and angry enforcement of 
 it, and so, indeed, give ultimate cause for strug- 
 gle, rancour, and bloodshed." 
 
 " The attempt to dispense with the tests is 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 219 
 
 arbitrary, not reasonable," resumed the Rev. 
 William King, " parliament alone could have 
 cancelled the law." 
 
 " Your pardon, brother ; the example of a 
 number of kings of England as far back as 
 Henry III. ; the admissions of many English 
 parliaments ; and the opinions of the many good 
 lawyers, are there at issue with you. So late 
 as James I., after a new consultation of judges, 
 it became an established principle in English 
 jurisprudence, that the king could permit what 
 was forbidden by statute law ; the very house of 
 commons who compelled from James's father the 
 petition of right, acknowledged that principle in 
 its fullest extent ; none but the regicide parlia- 
 ment denied it ; and after they and their mon- 
 strous acts have been denounced and swept away 
 by the rallied voice of the nation, we are not 
 surely going to vindicate ourselves by either ; — 
 Sir Edward Coke, the light of our protestant 
 lawyers, has confirmed the privilege of the sove- 
 reign, adding, that even an act of parliament 
 cannot take it away ; the majority of James's 
 own protestant counsellors echo all these opi- 
 nions ; and so, thus the question stands. Call 
 
 L 2 
 
^20 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 the privilege, if you will, unsuited to the genius 
 of the constitution, we have unanimously given 
 James a crown to which we knew it was imme- 
 morially appended ; we have not, before hand, 
 bargained with him not to use it ; we have, in 
 factj conferred it on him, along with his crown ; 
 his right to it has, by ourselves, been fully 
 though tacitly acknowledged ; and is it now 
 fair, in the nature of common justice, to blame 
 him for accepting and exercising what our own 
 hands have put into his ?■ — or is it only when its 
 exercise happens to interfere with our mono- 
 poly, that we are to deprive of his ancient right 
 our lawful sovereign ?" 
 
 " Universal papistry is the real object in all 
 these wanton measures," replied the other di- 
 vine ; " the queen, a violent papist, rules the 
 king; father Petre, the Jesuit, rules her ma- 
 jesty ; and hath he not also been called to the 
 privy council? — / say, something must be 
 done," the reverend gentleman added, rising to 
 go away. 
 
 " And so say T," echoed Coote, smiling grim- 
 ly, and tapping the hilt of his sword. 
 
 The company rose with them ; and Evelyn 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 22i 
 
 and Edmund were left alone with their host to 
 arrange the matters, which, ere Evelyn's voyage 
 over the Atlantic, had brought him to Dublin. 
 This effected, the young men retired for the 
 night ; neither exchanging a word upon the late 
 topic of general discourse. They met at break- 
 fast in the morning, they walked to the vessel 
 in which Evelyn was to embark, still keeping- 
 silence. At last, during the final preparations 
 for embarking, Evelyn asked, looking full into 
 the face of his friend— 
 
 " Well, what think youof this state of things, 
 McDonnell ?" 
 
 " As a Roman Catholic, Evelyn, I must think 
 that the determination cf king James to dis- 
 pense with the illiberal forms which exclude 
 from all civil and political rank, a great portion 
 of his subjects, is equitable ; after the uncon 
 tradicted assertions of my reverend seconder 
 last night, I must believe it is his privilege so to 
 do ; but I also fear, that if now opposed, in 
 equity and privilege, by proud churchmen and 
 slender politicians on the one side, while he is 
 equally inflamed and misguided by churchmen 
 as haughty, and politicians as slender, on the 
 
2^2 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 Other side, king James may be driven into me- 
 thods of enforcing his plain right, or of punish- 
 ing resistance to it, such as will, once more, in- 
 volve these kingdoms in anarchy, tear asunder 
 the social ties that have just been tenderly 
 formed, array heart against heart — brother 
 against brother; and," Edmund continued, as 
 his eyes ran over, " confirm, in wretchedness 
 and degradation, the wretched and degraded 
 country you have now the happiness to part 
 from — farewell ! — the boat waits you." 
 
 " Farewell, McDonnell 1" — they shook hands 
 and were separated. 
 
THE BOYNE WAJER. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Again we must pass over much time, that, we 
 candidly admit, we are not otherwise able to 
 manage. The sisterly sorrows of Eva and 
 Esther, at the absence of Evelyn ; the efforts 
 of young McDonnell to make both forget their 
 loss, and his partial success with one, at least — 
 all this the fair reader will still please to ima- 
 gine : — together, with how they spent their 
 time, in reading, walking, music, and edifying 
 conversation. Some general matters come, how- 
 ever, more immediately under our notice, and 
 are cognizable by even humble capacities. 
 
 Soon after Evelyn's departure, his sister, 
 (her health now well estabhshed, though even 
 amid the sunshine of love, and of her lover's 
 smile, the young lady's spirits wore an unac- 
 countable melancholy), uncle Paul, his lady, and 
 uncle Jerry, removed to their house on the 
 
224} THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 banks of Lough Neagh, accompanied by Eva, 
 and with the hope of a speedy visit from Ed- 
 mund. He did, indeed, soon join them; and 
 once more, by the side of that great lake — a 
 fresh-water sea, as we beheve it has been call- 
 ed, though, in other respects, its surrounding 
 scenery is not very interesting — the young trio 
 resumed their endless walks, and repetitions of 
 the same ideas and feelings. But, though thus 
 fallen into his old habits of luxurious inaction, 
 M'Donnell did not, as formerly, shut his ears, 
 or allow himself to remain indifferent to the oc- 
 currence of some things, and the rumours of 
 others, in the real world. A portion of his time 
 had, previous to his present visit to Lough 
 Neagh, been spent at the castle of his cousin, 
 the earl of Antrim ; and from that veteran and 
 watchful politician, he could not fail to be in- 
 formed of certain changes in opinions and mea- 
 sures for which the times w^ere but too remark- 
 able. Nor when he arrived among his friends, 
 did Edmund lack continued information of new 
 events, though it must be owned, they were con- 
 veyed in a colouring different from that in 
 which matters had lately been represented to 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 him. Mrs. Evelyn boasted her female corres- 
 pondents in London and Derry ; ladies of about 
 her own age, sixty, and of something of her 
 order, and turn of mind, too ; so that by volumi- 
 nous epistles from the former-mentioned city, 
 she was advised of the speedy approach of uni- 
 versal papistry ; while from the latter-mention- 
 ed, came weekly despatches of the same nature, 
 joined to assurances of a great massacre by the 
 papists, of all the protestants in Ireland, to take 
 place, according to the yet vaguely understood 
 prophecies of Collum-Kill (half of the name an 
 apt one) sometime towards the close of the year ; 
 day and date not yet exactly known; but as 
 zealous men were at work to ascertain both, 
 Mrs. Evelyn might be assured her dear friend 
 would soon communicate the result. 
 
 The best of it was, that, only a short time pre- 
 vious to Mrs. Evelyn's removal from the sea- 
 shore, an old woman, the nurse of Edmund, 
 came one day, running as fast as she was able, 
 clapping her hands, pilla-looing, and out of 
 breath, and squatted down, on her knees and 
 heels, before the astonished lady, to beg her 
 protection against an universal murdering of the 
 L 3 
 
226 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 Roman Catholics, by their protestant friends, 
 then also calculated with the utmost certainty ; 
 and as, soon after, Mrs. Evelyn received her 
 first hints that the matter was to be all the 
 other way, and as the old woman continued her 
 clamorous suit, many scenes of contradiction, 
 and, at last, of scolding, ensued between them ; 
 each angry with the charges of the other against 
 her own sect ; each rancorously believing any 
 thing bad enough for papists or heretics to 
 do, each certain of the speedy occurrence of 
 horrors beyond all powers of imagination ; and 
 each terribly frightened, of course. And the 
 whole of this would have proved amusing, had 
 the questions been exclusively discussed by in- 
 dividuals such as the old nurse, Mrs. Evelyn, 
 and her correspondents ; but when, for a long 
 time, hordes of the Roman Catholics of the 
 country, strong, able-bodied fellows, might be 
 found, night after night, lying out in solitary 
 and waste places, to escape the great massacre ; 
 when documents, expressive of their fears, were 
 forwarded to England by persons of the same 
 persuasion, though of rank and education seem- 
 ingly sufficient to elevate them out of such vul- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. ^917 
 
 gar terrors ; and when, very soon after the ad- 
 vices of Mrs. Evelyn's affectionate friends, men 
 as high and as well educated, on the protestant 
 side, were found to countenance and increase 
 the second popular panic ; what, under such 
 circumstances, shall be said of human nature ? 
 one may laugh at the visions and terrors of an 
 old lady or an old woman ; but not so at the in- 
 discriminate absurdity which thus debases the 
 minds of rational people, and causelessly excites 
 the active rancour of a divided community ; let 
 us despise it, then. 
 
 More than one letter came, of course, from 
 Evelyn, to console his sister and her friend for 
 his absence, as well as to give accounts of the 
 favourable progress of his affairs. A third or 
 fourth arrived, accompanied by one for uncle 
 Paul, and another for uncle Jerry. Evelyn was 
 of age, and coming home; and his epistle to 
 Eva was to urge the naming of a day, within a 
 week after the time it would take him to get 
 home, for their union ; those to his uncle, com- 
 municated the state of his affections, and asked 
 their consent. The epistle for uncle Paul came 
 inclosed to uncle Jerry, with a request to the 
 
228 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 latter uncle, to hand it, in private, to the former, 
 and procure a written consent, as Evelyn had 
 before planned, ere Mrs. Evelyn should see it. 
 Merry Jerry readily obeyed his instructions; 
 and setting to work with a tact one would not 
 suppose him capable of, soon got Paul to write, 
 in answer, a full permission, yea, blessing, for 
 the nuptials of his dear nephew. After this, 
 the young party, accompanied by the conscious 
 Jerry, set out upon a long excursion, leaving the 
 house in possession of Paul and his lady ; and 
 when they returned, Paul was sitting in a corner, 
 looking — (Jerry whispered,) — as if he had been 
 whipped, and Mrs. Evelyn busy, with closed lips, 
 which she did not open to salute her niece or 
 their friends, in making violent preparations for 
 a journey to Derry, early on the next morning. 
 
 " Powder-room on fire ! up we go in the 
 hoisting of a gib !" said Jerry to Edmund, as 
 they entered after the young ladies ; and, indeed, 
 as soon as his sister-in-law saw him, she gave a 
 preparatory fizz. 
 
 " You — let — me — have — that — paper — bro- 
 ther — Jerry," she said, tugging hard, between 
 every word, at a trunk she was cording. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 229 
 
 " What paper, sister Janet ?" he asked, very 
 simply. 
 
 " No matter— I need not describe it, thou 
 knowest well the paper I mean." 
 
 " Bless my limbs, how could I know, Janet ?" 
 
 " Give me directly," she resumed, letting go 
 the trunk, which then tumbled off the chair, flew 
 open, and afforded vent to a bundle of hard- 
 crammed things, among which were many bot- 
 tles, small and great, green and transparent, 
 that the fall reduced into shivers, while their 
 various contents splashed over the floor, " give 
 me directly, I say," fully ignited by the accident, 
 " the letter you forced Mr. Evelyn to write to 
 his base nephew." 
 
 " I would if I could, sister ; but it has gone 
 long ago for the post," though Jerry well knew 
 he was to keep it till Evelyn's arrival, and so 
 had never sent it for the post. — " Lend a hand," 
 he continued to Edmund in a whisper, *• if she 
 boards me on a search." 
 
 " Thou wilt not ?" resumed the lady, ap- 
 proaching. 
 
 " Why, look you, sister, I cannot," getting 
 Edmund between him and his relative. 
 
 " Then, beg and starve !" Mrs. Evelyn went 
 
230 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 on, " for a foot inside my door, thou shalt never 
 set ; my bread thou shalt never eat, my cup 
 never drink, again ; too long hast thou done so, 
 in idleness, and worse, in beastly drunkenness." 
 
 " Merry I was, sister, doubtless." 
 
 " After thy hfe of sea-roving and sea-rob- 
 bing, and, mayhap, something else — aye, home 
 you came to fatten, lazily, on the hard earnings 
 of honest folk ; but take my warning, never let 
 me see thy face at my door !" 
 
 " Poor I was, poor I am, sister Janet, and poor 
 I shall be, but hearty ; poor on the sea, on land, 
 in your house and in others, but hearty still ; 
 and though you discharge me, some other will 
 want a hand, and so, hearty still and still ; or, let 
 the whole fleet say me nay, hearty, hearty for 
 ever ! that's Jerry's word." 
 
 " As to thee, madam niece," Mrs. Evelyn re- 
 joined, not deigning to take further notice of 
 him, " no use I suppose in asking thee to join 
 your natural protectors early to-morrow morn- 
 
 ing." 
 
 " I am in my brother's house, madam ; and, 
 till he comes home, will have the protection of 
 my uncle Jeremiah." 
 
 " Will you ?" interrupted Jerry, running to 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 231 
 
 salute her, " hearty and merry, then, we will be ! 
 let her go" — in a confidential whisper. 
 
 " I see how it is, lady niece ; this is not to end 
 in the introduction of one beggarly papist, alone, 
 into the family^" scowling at Edmund, " but do, 
 do have them— have them both ; and look well 
 to your throats, afterwards, at the end of the 
 year; as to me," she continued, clasping her 
 hands, glancing upward and ending in the pathe- 
 tic, " as for me and my husband, and the other 
 good and unhappy protestants of this afflicted 
 land, the merciful Providence that has ever 
 shielded us, will not now see us perish — come, 
 Paul!" She rushed out of the apartment, and 
 obedient Paul pattering rapidly on his little legs 
 and cane, followed her. 
 
 Mrs. Evelyn kept her word. Next morning, 
 at day-break, she departed for Derry city. A 
 •few days after, Edmund also undertook a jour- 
 ney to Carrickfergus, to meet Evelyn on his 
 landing, as his letter intimated that he should 
 embark from an English port, for that town. 
 The lady of the earl of Antrim had some time 
 been expecting a visit from tlie two sisters, and, 
 previous to Edmund's departure, it v,as arrang- 
 
232 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 ed that they should go, during his absence, to 
 
 Glenarm castle. 
 
 Accordingly he accompanied them thither ; 
 and afterwards spent, under his father's roof, 
 the night previous to his intended setting out for 
 Carrickfergus. The next morning his dumb 
 uncle aroused him with looks and a manner of 
 unusual energy. Edmund, arising quickly, col- 
 lected from his signs, that his favorite roadster 
 had been stolen, overnight, from the field in 
 which it usually grazed ; and all around him 
 concurred in attributing the theft to " The 
 Tories," or " The Rapparees," names used in 
 common — though one of them has since become 
 the honorable appellation of honorable men — 
 to describe the bands of freebooters who were 
 then beginning to be heard of in Ireland. 
 
 " An' it 's them that lifted bur horse," added 
 some that could attempt English, " wid Rory- 
 na-chopple," (Rory of the horses) " at their 
 head, if he 's alive to do it ; for, barrin him, an' 
 we that the baste knows, no man in the north 
 could lay hands on wild Pawdhrick, hur honor's 
 own coult." 
 
 This accident was provoking at such a time ; 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 233 
 
 Edmund had no second horse half so well able 
 for a rapid journey over very bad roads ; yet, as 
 delay was out of the question, he resolved to do 
 the best he could ; so, procuring but an indif- 
 ferent animal, and accompanied by his dumb 
 uncle and Oliver, both equally anxious at once 
 to protect him from the Tories, and to welcome 
 Evelyn home, M'Donnell bent his way to Car- 
 rickfergus. 
 
 With much difficulty, he urged on his feeble 
 and ill-paced steed to within the last stage of 
 Carrickfergus ; and there it dropped, exhausted 
 and in convulsions, under him, on a wild road- 
 side, out of view of any house at which he 
 might hope to borrow or purchase another. 
 Casting his eyes impatiently around, he saw, how- 
 ever, a handsome and well-limbed colt graz- 
 ing in a field, near the road, but farther on, 
 and on a rising ground, stood a man, as if ob- 
 serving Edmund's accident, who, he hoped, 
 might be its master. To this man he therefore 
 moved, with his companions. His calculations 
 proved correct; the peasant was, or said he 
 was, proprietor of the young horse ; willing to 
 part with him ; and, in fine, a bargain was soon 
 concluded. 
 
234} THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " It's the only bother you'll have, is to ketch 
 him," observed the man, when he had put up 
 the purchase-money, and speaking a southern 
 patois ; " when he 's in the field, he 's the divil 
 entirely in regard o' that." 
 
 " But, supposing him caught, can I ride him, 
 my good fellow ? has he been ever crossed ?" in- 
 quired Edmund, who in his eagerness to obtain 
 the horse, had asked few questions as to his 
 qualifications. 
 
 " Musha, to be sure he has, many's the odd 
 time; and never the much he's the betther o' 
 that same." 
 
 " No matter," resumed Edmund, who com- 
 plimented himself on much skill in the manage- 
 ment of horse-flesh, " I'll catch him, and tame 
 him too." 
 
 He bounded into the field after the colt. At 
 his first appearance, the animal threw up his 
 head, snorted, and gave one or two wheels 
 round about; when Edmund approached nearer, 
 he kicked up his heels and gallopped, buoy- 
 antly, and as if in mockery, across the meadow. 
 His pursuer, changing his plan, stopt some 
 time, and then slowly advanced again, holding 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. S35 
 
 out his cap, and using his softest tones of en- 
 treaty ; but all to no use ; the colt either waited 
 until he was about to come too near, and then 
 resumed his race, or else did not let Edmund 
 within forty yards of him. 
 
 " Curse you, then," McDonnell cried, stand- 
 ing to look, near the road-side, at the mad 
 pranks of the horse he had purchased, but 
 could not catch — " curse you for a wild devil ; 
 the only colt— except my own that I have lost 
 — I could not lay hands on, at the first offer — 
 he is like Pawdrick too, in make, though so dif- 
 ferent in colour." 
 
 " It minds me," said Oliver, condescending 
 to mirth, " of the auld receipt to make hare- 
 soup, beginning thus — first catch the hare." 
 
 " I'll try him again," said Edmund. 
 
 " Little 's the use to go about it that a-way," 
 observed a man, a traveller, but a pedestrian, 
 who, advancing in the direction our friends 
 had come, now halted at the almost unfenced 
 edge of the field that bordered on the road. 
 
 " And in what way, then, friend ?" McDon- 
 nell asked, turning to the speaker, whose first 
 appearance instantly attracted his attention. 
 
236 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 The man was of middle age, bare-footed and 
 bare-legged, and bare-headed too, his profuse 
 and matted black hair seemingly encouraged in 
 its growth to do away with the superfluity of a 
 hat ; his neck had a strange twist in it ; his 
 body stooped a little from the hips ; his nether 
 limbs were crooked, and ill-jointed, so that 
 when he walked, his gait appeared half-shuf- 
 fling, half-hobbling; and his face, of a tanned, 
 tawny colour, shewed small, black, pig-eyes, 
 crow-footed, and wrinkled, all round, and a 
 mouth ever smiling, or simpering rather, of 
 which the elevating muscles of the upper lip, 
 that ran down from the nose, were, from con- 
 stant use, strongly marked. The old coat and 
 inexpressibles he wore, seemed of southern fa- 
 shion and colour ; and at his heels trotted a lit- 
 tle boy, bare-headed and bare-footed also, at- 
 tending on him with something of the air of a 
 young sweep of the present day pattering after 
 his overgrown director. 
 
 " I could soon shew you, genteel, in what 
 way," this master resumed, answering Edmund's 
 question, " only it 's my thrade, afther a manner, 
 an' I lives by id." 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 237 
 
 "And that's the very reason, I should suppose, 
 why you ought to shew me instantly, instead of 
 being a cause for your objection, friend." 
 
 " Thrue for you ;" simpering, and shuffling a 
 step forward, " barrin it war in regard o' the 
 thrifle o' lucre, that the neighbours, God bless 
 'em, gi' me the fashion o' lookin' for." 
 
 " Oh, is that all ? catch the colt, then, and de- 
 pend on being paid for your trouble." 
 
 " No throuble in life," taking a step into the 
 field, '^ bud," stopping again " may be, genteel, 
 you'd as lieve throw id to us, aforehand, jest to 
 save time, and see the coult well-cotched ?" 
 
 " My good fellow," said Edmund, beginning 
 to suspect his man, " no colt, no pay ; so, set to 
 work, or go about your business." 
 
 " Musha, haw um saustha ; sure it 's all as one 
 as the same thing," the man resumed, not a whit 
 out of humour. He moved towards the young 
 horse, crying out, or rather simpering, 
 
 " Phree-a, phree-a, go-aun-sugh, go-mm- 
 sughy brommaheen dhuiv' — (come here, come 
 here, young black horse). The colt stopped, 
 and gazed wistfully on the stranger, who, not 
 advancing more than mid-way in the field, stood 
 
238 THE BOYNE >VATER. 
 
 Still, contenting himself with merely beckoning 
 to the animal; and M'Donnell, to his perfect 
 amazement, saw the colt walk towards this con- 
 juror, and submit his head to his grasp. Both 
 came together to the mifenced road-side, and 
 there halted. 
 
 " Fon lath, fan lathi' continued the captor ; 
 ^^fon-lath, a-v'ich^' (stand there, stand there, my 
 son) : and the horse remained quiet as a lamb. 
 
 " Well caught, indeed," said Edmund, giving 
 the man some money, *' but how have you done 
 it?" 
 
 " Nothin' asier in life," putting up his fee, and 
 still simpering very innocently, " only it 's jest a 
 little bit iv a sacret, that I had from the father 
 afore me, an' 'ill leave to this son that is to come 
 afther me," pointing to the boy, *' an' no one 
 else, plaise God ; but I may as well tell you, 
 genteel, some iv id ; sure I give 'em a whisper, 
 that they hears acrass the field, an' no body else 
 can ; an' then they'd come to me, two fields afF, 
 an' folly me, the world over, out iv a likin' they 
 takes to me, or a thing o' the kind ; look at them, 
 now," he continued, pointing to the rudely fenc- 
 ed extremities of the field, over which more than 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 289 
 
 one horse had, indeed, thrust their heads, while 
 others actually cleared the fence^ and seemed 
 well inclined to approach the stranger. 
 
 " And from whom did your father get the 
 secret ?" 
 
 " Why, then, I jest may's well tell you that, 
 
 too, genteel, while the man is liftin' the saddle 
 
 from the one baste, to put id on the other. 
 
 The father that God ga' me follied the thrade 
 
 o' makin' o' shoes for horses' feet, an' had a bit 
 
 iv a forge, you see, on the borders o' the bog 
 
 iv Allen, where people frum all parts used to 
 
 cum, to get their bastes shoed ; ^n' a good 
 
 hand at his thrade my father war, only one 
 
 thing gave him the laste bit o' throuble in the 
 
 world, an' that was shoin' o' young wild coults 
 
 for the first time, cratures that never afore could 
 
 tell a shoe from the horn o' their hoofs — an' 
 
 for the same raison didn't like id, an' wouldn't 
 
 stand steady. Well, a-roon ; one day that he 
 
 had a raal mad coult in his hands, my father 
 
 couldn't dhrive a nail, nor put on the shoe, at- 
 
 all-at-all, an' the coult broke loose from him, in 
 
 the long run, an' gallopped into the bog, lavin' 
 
 him standin' at the forge-dour, wid his hommer 
 
240 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 in his hand, as bothered as a bee in a fallow- 
 field.* Upon that, up comes a lame throoper 
 wid a pale face, that said he was on the road 
 home from the wars ; it happened in ould Noll's 
 time — (what ails the genteel by the side b' you ?) 
 an' he axed for a dhrink o' wather. * Wather I 
 wont gi' you, bud milk I will,' my father made 
 answer, pityin' the lame throoper's case, bothered 
 as he was ; so they turned into the forge, an' he 
 made the throoper sit down, an' dhrink the good 
 milk ; an' ^ Well,' the throoper said, after a rest, 
 it rises my heart eq'l to red wine, an' for your 
 charity to the thraveller that cum lame and tir- 
 ed to your dour, this day, I'll tell you how to 
 ketch the coult that broke frum you, afore I 
 came in sight o' the place.' 
 
 " * An' how did you know it at all, thin ?' my 
 father axed ; * Never mind that,' says the throo- 
 per, * only listen to me well;' an' wid that, young 
 genteel, he said in my father's ear some words, 
 biddin' him to whisper them acrass the field, an' 
 the horse 'ud come, if the divil itsilf war in him, 
 
 * i. e. Out of his element, or not knowing what to do ; as 
 the bee in a fallow-field flies from one clod to another, and has 
 his labour for his pains — no honey to be got. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 241 
 
 to his hand, an' agin he whispered more words, 
 that whin they'd be whispered in Uke manner in 
 a horse's ear, let him be ould or young, or to 
 be crossed or shoed, 'ud bring him to raison, 
 an' make him stand Hke a lamb, so that a child 
 might rise his leg, or mount him; an', sure 
 enough, when my father went into the bog, an' 
 whispered the first words to the coult, he came 
 •to him like a little dog ; an' when he said the 
 second words in his ear, at the forge-dour, he 
 stood, like a child for a whippin' ; an' ever af- 
 ther, my father, God rest him, had no bother 
 in his thrade ; an* people called him The Whis- 
 perer, from that day out, the same they calls 
 mysef at the prasent time ; only, whin my fa- 
 ther cum back to the forge to give the sick 
 trooper thanks, sure he was gone, an' no sight 
 iv him on the road, for miles about, an' no one 
 ever hard iv him sence ; or before, I'm thinkin', 
 barrin' himsef, an' whosomever sent him." 
 
 " Stand ! stand, there !" now interrupted Ed- 
 mund, roaring at the colt, which, at last bridled 
 and saddled, refused to let himself be mounted. 
 His new master once or twice strove to vault 
 suddenly on his back, but the excessive bound- 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 ing and prancing of the spirited young animal 
 baffled him. 
 
 " Talkin' so loud isn't the way, neither," said 
 The Whisperer, "jest let mysef spake to him, 
 agin." 
 
 As he hobbled forward, the colt became 
 quieter ; suffered him to catch his ear and lower 
 his head ; and the man seemed about to put his 
 lips to the ear, when he stopped suddenly, and 
 turning to M'Donnell, resumed, " you'll remem- 
 ber, genteel, it's another branch o' the thrade?" 
 
 " There, there," throwing more money on 
 the road, and impatient of losing time — "get 
 me on his back, and go to the devil." 
 
 "We thank you kindly, genteel," looking after 
 the second fee — " stoop abit, ma bouchal, an' 
 pick up what God sends ;" the urchin accord- 
 ingly gathered the money from the road, while 
 his father applied himself to the colt's ear. No 
 one heard his whisper, if whisper it was ; but, 
 in a moment, the animal stood stock-still, his 
 tail turned between his legs, and his whole 
 frame trembling. 
 
 " There now ; get up ; an' the Lord speed 
 your open hand on the road," added The Whis- 
 perer. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 243 
 
 Edmund accordingly mounted at his ease, 
 and set forward to Carrickfergus, with his 
 friends; his new purchase quite manageable, 
 though still spirited. When sonue distance from 
 The Whisperer, he turned in his saddle to 
 have another look at a person so gifted, and 
 he thought he perceived him and the man with 
 whom he had dealt for the horse, laughing and 
 chuckling, in a knowing way, together ; but in 
 a few minutes he looked again, and The Whis- 
 perer had parted from the peasant, and was ra- 
 pidly shuffling over the road, after the travel- 
 lers, followed, at a quick trot, by the Httle boy. 
 An angle of the road soon hid him altogether 
 from Edmund ; and the party reached Carrick- 
 fergus without further sight of him. 
 
 It was on a chill, dark evening, early in the 
 October of 1688, that they entered the town. 
 The streets were filled with groups of people, 
 talking earnestly together ; their brows and faces 
 as gloomy and ominous as the evening; and 
 their voices not rising high enough to give even 
 the relief of clatter to the scene. These, Ed- 
 mund could perceive, by their dress and air, 
 to be the protestant inhabitants. Passing " the 
 M 2 
 
244 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 Qeene*s majestie's castell," the party got into the 
 place where markets were holden ; and here 
 was another crowd, of a different kind. It had 
 been a market-day; and the peasantry that, 
 from an extensive vicinity, all around, had at- 
 tended the market, joined to such of the town's 
 people as were of the catholic persuasion, clus- 
 tered about a young man, who, wearing a sword 
 and periwig, along with what otherwise seemed 
 a clerical costume, harangued them from a turf- 
 car. 
 
 His discourse was, at once, vague and alarm- 
 ing. He spoke to them of a time that was past, 
 and a time that was coming ; of the pouring 
 out of certain of the seven vials, of the righte- 
 ousness of self-defence, and the moral and re- 
 ligious necessity to anticipate, under terror of 
 the loss of life, and of injury to God's church, 
 retaliation by attack ; he put the people on their 
 guard against false preachers; firebrands of 
 heresy and destruction, who were travelling 
 about to kindle, among their enemies, the flame 
 that would roar to devour them ; and he par- 
 ticularly named a heretic minister, George 
 Walker, called rector of Donaughmore, in the 
 
THE BOYKE WATER. 245 
 
 county of Tyrone, who was distinguished for 
 devilish zeal against holy church. Then, chang- 
 ing his theme, with some address, the young 
 man warned them that they were not, in such a 
 dangerous situation, to wait for the cold and 
 tardy command of rulers, lukewarm and hard- 
 hearted to the voice of a suffering people, and 
 the groans of a persecuted religion ; that if such 
 rulers heard not the church, the church would 
 not hear them, but, turning from them, direct 
 its call to its children, who were ever bound to 
 obey that call, before all others ; and he con- 
 cluded by this remarkable illustration ; that as 
 God abandoned Saul, in his lukewarmness, and 
 for his treatment of the Amalekites took his 
 kingdom from him, and ruined his family ; as 
 certainly would he punish all who should be 
 guilty of a similar disobedience ; adding, that 
 as, at that time, the people were commanded 
 to take all their directions from Samuel, as from 
 God, so, under a like dispensation, would the 
 people of the present day be obliged, at peril 
 of their souls, to listen, exclusively, to the bid- 
 ding of their pastors. 
 
 ** Good heaven !" cried Edmund, almost un- 
 
24& THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 consciously, as the preacher ended — " what can 
 this terrible warning mean ?" 
 
 "It means," answered a person by his side, 
 " that this evil man, a papist minister, not satis- 
 fied with even the gallop at which his master 
 hastens to his ruin, when he but thinks to com- 
 pass ours, would rouse up the brutal bigotry of 
 his sect, to crush him and us together : us, in 
 deep-rooted hatred — him, in impatience and 
 wrath. This is O'Haggerty, the Dominican friar, 
 the plague and danger of the north." 
 
 The preacher just then passed them. ; bend- 
 ing on M'Donnell a fixed and peculiar regard ; 
 and Edmund saw, indeed, the same person who 
 had met Evelyn, his sister, and their friends, 
 outside Carrickfergus, as mentioned at the 
 opening of this story: though his face and 
 manner were much changed by the periwig 
 and half mihtary dress and au* he had lately 
 adopted. 
 
 " Observe the previous effects of his accurst 
 ministry on the crowd he has been addressing ; 
 see — almost every man and lad is armed with 
 the skein, or the half-pike, or with both," con- 
 tinued the stranger ; and M'Donnell could not 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 24}7 
 
 fail to notice that the people were, indeed, 
 armed as had been pointed out ; he also recol- 
 lected that, for some time before, the peasantry 
 in his own neighbourhood generally carried 
 weapons of the same description. 
 
 " God defend us from either of the results 
 this rash priest would aim at, sir !" M'Donnell 
 resumed. 
 
 The individual, (also mounted,) looked at him 
 quickly, and as if somewhat surprised and 
 startled; and then touching his hat, kept his 
 cloak tight about him, and rode slowly down 
 the street. 
 
 A stir towards the end of the street that ap- 
 proached the quay-wall, drew the notice of 
 M'Donnell and his friends. Hastening thither, 
 they were told a ship had just appeared in view, 
 steering for the bay. In much interest and 
 anxiety, Edmund looked over the ocean ; but, 
 to his eyes, all was one blank mass of water, 
 mist, and heavy clouds. A man handed him a 
 telescope, with which he had, himself, spied the 
 vessel, and M'Donnell could then discover the 
 shadowy form of a ship, emerging, like a pale 
 sea-spectre, through the fog and drizzling rain 
 of the cheerless evening. 
 
S48 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " She 's nearer than you think, too," the man 
 said, ^' the haze hides her ; in a short time you 
 will see her cast anchor." 
 
 It was even as the experienced old fisher said. 
 Scarce ten minutes had elapsed when the vessel 
 became visible to the naked eye ; in ten more, 
 her motion was observable, as she strove hard 
 M'ith a rough sea, and an ebb tide; another 
 pause, and her crew and passengers appeared 
 grouped on her deck, and she could be seen 
 hoisting a flag, in honor of the royal standard 
 that floated over the old fortress : yet another — 
 and amid the faces that silently turned to shore, 
 McDonnell gazed with a beating heart to try if 
 he could discover the face of his friend — of the 
 brother of his Esther ; even at too great a dis- 
 tance he selected^one, and kept his eyes rivetted 
 upon it ; the vessel hove nearer and nearer ; he 
 became more and more certain ; nearer still— 
 and it was the face of that friend, unseen for 
 nearly two years, and coming to him, over the 
 ocean, from a burning sun and a strange people. 
 
 The friends recognized each other at the 
 same moment, and together waved their hats to 
 each other; M'Donnell cheered; even Oliver 
 chimed in ; the people around, strangers as they 
 
THL BOYNE WATER. 2i9 
 
 were, caught up the joyous shout ; it was sent 
 back from the vessel, now just at anchor; 
 there was a bustle, a confused noise of voices, 
 and a crowding around the pier; and in an- 
 other moment, the friends had clasped hands. 
 
 After a necessary pause, the party, with their 
 newly found visitor, hastened to seek refresh- 
 ment in the only inn, or pubhc, the town af- 
 forded. It was a thatched house, containing, 
 for the purposes of sitting, and eating and 
 drinking, of all comers, but one large apart- 
 ment, badly-ceiled, earthen-floored, white-wash- 
 ed, and with three or four deal tables, at each 
 side of the fire-place, or at its different ends, 
 flanked by long deal forms. 
 
 A man with a wooden leg, a military cocked 
 hat, a red coat, and his remaining leg decked 
 out with a clean white stocking, a well-brushed 
 shoe, and a brig lit buckle, first attempted, as 
 master of the house, to shew them into this 
 room; but he was shoved aside by a fresh- 
 faced, portly woman of forty, his spouse, who, 
 smoothing down her apron, seemed to think 
 herself most worthy of doing the honors of her 
 tavern. They had a few words indeed on the 
 M 3 
 
250 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 point, before he yielded, from which it was evi- 
 dent that the husband was an EngHshman, cor- 
 rupted by the Scottish accent around him, and 
 the wife, a native Irishwoman, attempting to 
 speak his language ; but at last her emphatic — 
 " yield, Brass — will ye yield, mon ?" quite pre- 
 vailed, and our friends gained admission. 
 
 All the tables, except one, were filled by dif- 
 ferent companies. At the one end of the room 
 sat a number of peasantry, some of those we 
 have already seen in the market-place, collected 
 in twos and threes, from distinct parts of the 
 surrounding counties, which had once been 
 wholly populated by people of their caste and 
 religion ; at the other, an almost equal number 
 of townspeople, manufacturers, and fishers ; and 
 round the table, to the right of the hearth, were 
 half a dozen soldiers of the garrison. The pea- 
 sants talked loudly, in Irish ; the townspeople 
 as much, but in a lower tone ; the soldiers said 
 nothing ; but all were employed in one common 
 occupation ; that is, the drinking of strong ale. 
 
 Evelyn, Edmund, Oliver, and Con M'Donnell, 
 took possession of the spare table. Such a din- 
 ner as the house could aflfbrd was laid befoi*e 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 251 
 
 them ; and such as it was, all ate heartily. It 
 was removed, and replaced by good liquor of 
 various kinds ; and Evelyn and Edmund at last 
 had time to ask and give much information 
 about home, and all at home. Both then wish- 
 ed to exchange opinions on another topic, but 
 their situation, amongst such a crowd of people, 
 and finally, a toast proposed in a cup of ale, by 
 one of the peasants, with its consequences, pre- 
 vented them. 
 
 " Rhia Shamus Abo /" cried the man, raising 
 his cup, and addressing himself to the whole 
 room. None but his own party took notice. 
 
 " King Shamus !" repeated another, translat- 
 ing his friend's Irish, and also looking round, as 
 if he called on every one to pledge him. 
 
 " King James !" said the soldiers, quietly, and 
 as matter of course. 
 
 " King James!" echoed the townspeople, 
 whispering something, perhaps an addenda, to 
 each other ; and, " King James !" our party also 
 repeated, Oliver, however, moving his lips ere 
 the cup touched them, and looking expressively 
 at the natives of the place. 
 
 *' Fat is doing hur tamned thief at ta hearth ?" 
 
^52 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 asked the second peasant who had spoken, 
 " will hur dhrink nein Rhia Shamus ?" 
 
 " Yoursef is discoorsin' mysef," answered The 
 Whisperer, who, hitherto unnoticed by our 
 friends, had edged himself, on the end of one 
 of the forms occupied by the soldiers, near to 
 the fire, his little son sitting at his feet ; " but 
 you can jest spake plainer, in the English, or 
 the Irish, whichever you like, an' then we'll 
 know what is id you mane." 
 
 " You are required," said Edmund, wishing 
 to anticipate an angry rejoinder from the of- 
 fended linguist, " to drink king James's health." 
 
 " Avoch, is that all ? musha, here's his health, 
 wid a heart an' a half, an' good look to him ; an' 
 more look nor some that dhrank it afore, had 
 on their lips or in their hearts for him, may-be." 
 
 " Curp-an-duoul !" cried the peasant, appro- 
 priating this innuendo, " fat will hur say ?" he 
 rose very angrily. 
 
 " Asynow, a-vich," The Whisperer answered, 
 " how do you know I was spakin' to you, at-all- 
 at-all? sure there's more people in the world 
 nor yoursef, an' them that's along wid you; 
 tho' it 's far an' near a body might thravel, iv a 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 253 
 
 t 
 
 summer's day, an' not meet sich a clane set o' 
 boys, an you at their head — sha-dhurth," he 
 nodded smilingly, and again drank. 
 
 " Sha-dhurth a-bouchal," replied the peasant, 
 others joining him, while almost all held out 
 their pottle-pots that The Whisperer might drink 
 of their liquor ; and no ways tardy was he in ac- 
 cepting the courtesy. 
 
 " Yon's meaning our company," observed one 
 of the townspeople aloud ; *' and he mocks us 
 before the Irish-folk." 
 
 " He is one o' them, his ain sel," said Oliver. 
 
 " Do ye speer ony thing at us, mon ?" inquir- 
 ed many voices. 
 
 " Shpeer ? what 'ud that be, genteels ?" said 
 The Whisperer, smiling simply, as they scowled 
 at him. 
 
 " Have you meant to accuse any of these 
 gentlemen of hidden disloyalty to king James ?" 
 Edmund again asked, still for peace sake. 
 
 " Me ! them good gintlemin ! musha, 'ud I be 
 mad, or cracked, to do any sich thing ? — civil, 
 dacent people, like 'em, that minds their callin', 
 an' owes no ill-will to any body ; my sarvice to 
 you, genteels." 
 
S54 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " Aweel ; health til you, lad ; and what for 
 no taste of our pint-stoup ?" they answered. 
 
 " Never a know myself knows, then," and 
 dragging his ill-framed limbs across the room 
 he took a long draught out of the proffered 
 pint. 
 
 " Hark ye, good fellow, said one of the sol- 
 diers, intercepting him on his return to the ingle 
 corner, " hast any thing to say to us ?" 
 
 " To be sure I have, then, and why wouldn't 
 I ? Hearty good wishes, every day ye get up, an' 
 my blessin', over an' over, on the sodgers that 
 keeps all in pace an' quietness, out o' love an' 
 likin' for king James, God look down on him." 
 
 " A simple-witted fellow," said the soldier to 
 his companions, " here, then, let 's be friends, 
 man," and they, too, shoved him a cup of ale, 
 of which he did not drink sparingly. The sol- 
 diers then called their reckoning, paid it, and 
 went away. 
 
 " Good loock to them, I say agin," The Whis- 
 perer continued, as he resumed his seat, " for 
 it 's them that won't let poor bosthoons Uke us 
 have id all our own way," glancing at the pea- 
 sants, while he looked his meaning elsewhere. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 255 
 
 " Fat will hur mane, now ?" said their spokes- 
 man, once more rising wrathfully. 
 
 " Sure you knows, whatever a poor boy, like 
 me, manes, he doesn't mane 3/e," winking at 
 them. They bioke into a loud roar of assent, 
 and some rose to clasp his hand, and give him 
 more ale, gratis. 
 
 *' No more nor the genteels foment ye," he 
 went on, seeing the other table look threatening, 
 " sure none o' them is auld enough to remember 
 Black Noll, any way, that came to kill us all for 
 the risin' we had out o' love for king James's 
 father ; an' so, none o' them 'ud want to kill us 
 all, now, over again, for likin' his father's son." 
 
 " I remember my righteous namesake, weel," 
 said Oliver ; " and I remember other things, 
 before his time in this land ; I remember the 
 Forty-one." 
 
 " Why, then, your memory is nothin' to brag 
 of a-vich," observed The Whisperer, still sim- 
 peringly. 
 
 " And our forbears remember it, too," added 
 the townspeople. 
 
 " That 's no fault o' your own, genteels," he 
 replied. 
 
256 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " But is it mine, if I do?" asked Oliver. 
 
 " Troth, an' it 's yoursef knows that best, a- 
 bouchal ma-chree ; sure no one minds what a 
 poor boy Uke me, says ; one that was burnt wid 
 the frost, the last hard year, an' has no sense ; 
 only — bad loock, seed, breed, an' generation, 
 to the bloody dogs o' the Forty-one." 
 
 " Thou hast said it," exclaimed Oliver stern- 
 ly, and half unsheathing an old horseman's 
 sword, as he rose. The townspeople rose with 
 him : and the peasants started up at the other 
 end of the room. 
 
 " PuUa-loo !" cried The Whisperer, the only 
 unruffled person in company, " duv you ever 
 ax yoursef what you 're goin' to do, aforehand ? 
 — a word in your ear, gossip ;" Oliver was now 
 near enough to stoop dow^n, still on his guard, 
 and comply with this invitation ; — " jest raison 
 a-bit, an' thry in your own mind, what bloody 
 dogs I mane :" — the rest was a very close whis- 
 per. 
 
 " Says't thou ?" again asked Oliver. 
 
 '' Arragh, to be sure I do ; an' there, now, 
 sit down again wid the genteels ; an stay — 
 you an' mysef didn't dhrink a drop yet — here 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 257 
 
 — taste this—musha, bad end to id, but it's 
 afther makin' idsef empty." 
 
 " Nathless shalt thou drink with me," said 
 Oliver ; and he brought from the table his own 
 liquor, of which The Whisperer did not spare a 
 mouthful. 
 
 " The chield can whisper to a purpose," re- 
 sumed some of the townspeople. 
 
 " The man hath spoken words of plain sense," 
 said Oliver, " whilk sufficed to quiet me ; he 
 hath declared that he meant, by his denouncing 
 of the bloody dogs of the Forty-one, neither 
 me, nor those of my persuasion." 
 
 " Musha, did I, gossip ?" resumed The Whis- 
 perer, now removed from the hearth to a seat 
 among the peasants, " maybe it 's jokin' you'd 
 be ; or maybe it 's the burnin I got in the frost 
 that bid me say id : an' maybe, agin, it 's the 
 same thing bids me say now — ill-end, kilh an' 
 kin, root an' branch, to the murtherin' villains 
 of the Gobbins Heughs." 
 
 " Ha !" cried Oliver, starting to his feet, fully 
 unsheathing his sword, and aiming a furious 
 slash at The Whisperer. One of the peasants 
 took it on a half-pike, and all sprung up, with 
 
258 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 Other half-pikes, or rude skeins, in their hands. 
 At the same moment, the townspeople rushed 
 to support Noll, some of them shewing pistols, 
 hitherto concealed, some seizing the pewter 
 vessels. A man of a superior air to the rest, 
 whom our party did not before notice, but whom 
 Edmund recognized as the person that spoke 
 to him in the street, after the friar's sermon, 
 put himself at their head, and also presenting a 
 pistol, cried — 
 
 " Down with the cruel papists ! down with 
 them I" Just then, the door flew open, and in 
 ran, followed by the host and hostess. Friar 
 O'Haggerty, himself, and he, too, drawing his 
 sword, assumed command of the peasants, en- 
 couraging them with — 
 
 " Spare no heretics ! — the murdering here- 
 tics !" 
 
 " Peace ! peace !" cried the landlord and land- 
 lady. 
 
 " Peace ! peace !" echoed Edmund and Eve- 
 lyn. 
 
 The dumb man bounded at Oliver's throat, 
 like a mastiff, instantly got him down, and 
 wrenched the sword from his hand. Yet other 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 259 
 
 weapons clashed, and more than one shot was 
 fired, when two new peace-makers entered ; one, 
 old Priest McDonnell, of Cushindoll, another a 
 tall, spare man. of very primitive dress, manner, 
 and appearance : the former, shaking more vio- 
 lently than ever, seized O'Haggerty's hands — 
 he could reach no higher ; the other confronted 
 the leader of the townspeople. 
 
 '' I entreat— I command you, sir !" cried the 
 old priest ; " obey me, as you are bound to do 
 — sheath your sword"' — then addressing the 
 peasants in Irish, he similarly exhorted and 
 commanded them. 
 
 " Art thou a christian?" demanded the second 
 peace-maker, of the other leader — " dost thou 
 believe in the word as the message of peace 
 and good- will to all ? and yet wilt thou urge on 
 these poor sinful people to do murther ?" 
 
 " Peace, I say, in the name of the God of 
 peace !" resumed Priest M'Donnell — " and if 
 the speaking of that name brings no reason to 
 thy mind — tremble, man, tremble !" 
 
 While these efforts were made, the other 
 unembroiled persons of the company were not 
 idle ; and in a short time hostiUties really 
 
^60 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 ceased : the only persons who kept up a skir- 
 mish being the landlord and landlady; but as it 
 was between themselves, it seemed of little mo- 
 ment, except for our notice. Protestant and 
 catholic as they were, their endeavours to make 
 peace consisted in rather violent assaults upon 
 the parties they liked least in the room; and 
 this soon bringing them in contact, ended in an 
 assault upon each other ; so that when every one 
 else was quiet, they were found scrambling in a 
 remote and clear corner; the hostess, as was 
 indeed usually the case in such domestic acci- 
 dents, having got her good man on his back, 
 by tugging the wooden leg from under him; 
 and she now held it tight, in a line perpendi- 
 cular to his body, as she asked — " WuU ye 
 yield. Brass?" 
 
 " No, by G ; I'll doy mon-hke," he an- 
 swered. 
 
 Her eyes flashed and her face reddened with 
 some hideous resolve, as she put both hands 
 to the wooden stump ; but ere she could carry 
 any thing into effect, Edmund ran to her ; and, 
 finally, Con M'Donnell whipt her up in his 
 arms, carried her out of the room, and returned 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 261 
 
 with a key in his hand, which he presented to 
 the landlord. At the repeated exhortations of 
 Priest M'Donnell, the peasants retired ; after 
 them, under guidance of the tall, spare man, 
 the townspeople ; but when the room was so 
 far cleared, the old priest was seen to gaze in 
 consternation at the causer of the whole dis- 
 turbance — The Whisperer, who stood sheltered 
 by the projection of the chimney, from all harm, 
 his little boy held in his arms, and simpering, 
 like a fiend, amid the riot he had called up. 
 
 " Sirs !" cried the old man, continuing his 
 agitated look — " see ye that ? — do spectres tndy 
 come amongst us ?" 
 
 " You gaze but at flesh and blood, sir," said 
 Edmund — " we know this man." 
 
 " Threu enough," said The Whisperer. 
 
 " It is yourself, then, Rory-na-Choppell ?" 
 continued the priest. 
 
 *' Every inch o'me, plase your reverance." 
 
 All, except Evelyn, who had not heard of 
 him, started at the announcement of this fa- 
 mous rapparee ; — and — 
 
 " Good sirs," continued the old man — " as I 
 am to be judged, I confessed that fellow at the 
 
262 THE BOYNE WATER, 
 
 gallow's foot, and saw him swinging on it — look 
 at the twist in his neck." 
 
 " I'll never deny their threatenin' the life iv 
 an innocent poor boy," said Rory, " that, afther 
 all, the Lord wouldn't let 'em take — for a raison 
 I knows ; — for when they cut me down, an' giv' 
 the corpse to my people, the life was still wid 
 me, an' I was soon brought to ; barrin' this same 
 crooked turn in the neck, that your reverance 
 spakes of, an' that didn't hurt the bone, tho' 
 they thried their best ; an' it 's as far from me 
 to deny the good confessin' your reverance gave 
 me ; the best I ever got in my born days, any 
 how, an' all for nothin' ; God reward them that 
 threw id in my way ; it 's all the harum I wish 
 'em ; so your reverance sees it done me good ; 
 an' more nor that, sure ; consitherin' the mighty 
 holy life I lade ever sence ; an' am larnin' my 
 poor dawny crature iv a child, here ; poor Ca- 
 hier — Rory's own darlin'." 
 
 ** Well I know the life you lead, and are 
 bringing him up to, wretched man," resumed 
 Priest McDonnell ; " your feelings at the gal- 
 low's-tree assure me of that ; if, indeed, he is 
 your own child, and not one of your 'prentices." ' 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. J^bo 
 
 " My own he is, your reverance, to the back- 
 bone ; an', plase God he lives, 'ill shew id, too; 
 won't you, Cahier, a-chorra-ma-chree ?" Cahier 
 left his well-known life to answer. 
 
 " Sirs," continued the priest, " this limb of 
 Satan never has less than four 'prentices regu- 
 larly articled to him, at large fees, and sent all 
 the ways from Kerry, to learn his trade of de- 
 coying horses, young and old, handled or not 
 handled, that he got, they say, from a witch in 
 the county of Monoghan, and that brought his 
 neck into the halter only a month since." 
 
 " There 's no great spishoge* on your reve- 
 rance to say the like, savin' your reverance's pra- 
 sence ; only from the father afore me, that got id 
 frum the lame throoper, whoever he war, as all 
 the world knows ; an' never a one o' the bastes 
 mysef was thinkin' of, that same time, when 
 they thought to prove id agin me ; bud, just goin' 
 the road, they foUied me out o' the gap ; an' 
 how can a poor boy help 'em, if they loves an' 
 likes me ?" 
 
 " Where is my colt, you scoundrel ?" — now 
 cried Edmund at his ear, while he seized Rory 
 
 * Witchcraft. 
 
^264} THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 by the crooked neck — " where is the colt you 
 stole out of my father's field, last night ? — tell 
 me, this moment, where I am to get him, or I 
 will bind you, hand and foot, and send you to 
 the mayor of Carrickfergus." 
 
 " Bind poor Rory away, plase your honor, iv 
 you like id," the man answered, meekly — 
 " bud, when that 's done, will id make me know 
 any thing o' the coult, or larne you where to 
 find him ?" 
 
 " The thief speaks sense in this," said Priest 
 McDonnell, drawing Edmund aside — " depend 
 upon it, he has so taken his measures, that the 
 robbery cannot be proved against him ; and, as 
 to getting your colt without speaking him fair, 
 it is impossible ; heaven knows in what part of 
 the kingdom the poor animal is, this blessed 
 night ; for he has own relations, receivers, and 
 agents, in Upper Ossory, Leitrim, Monoghan, 
 and Derry, besides many others in different 
 points of the country ; let me try to manage the 
 rogue. — Rory-na-choppeV returning to him, 
 "you know that by sending word you are alive 
 in Carrickfergus, to-night, we can get you hang- 
 ed over again to-morrow morning. Tell Master 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 265 
 
 McDonnell how and where to recover his colt, 
 and you may go your ways, and take your own 
 time and road, ^nd, mayhap, find both short 
 enough." 
 
 " Cead mille beachus lath^^ your reverance ; 
 bud what does poor Rory know about id, at-all- 
 at-all ? — may I never see glory, no more, nor the 
 child in my arms, this holy an' blessed time." 
 
 " And that 's just as much as will serve, may- 
 hap," said the clergyman. 
 
 " Bud I have gossips, an' I have friends, an' 
 people, over-an-hether, that wishes me well, be- 
 case they have pity on their hearts for a poor 
 boy, like me ; an' I'll tell you what I'll do : 
 rU spake to them, afore I go to shleep ; an' 
 just lend me the book, your reverance:" the 
 priest handed him his breviary, having first 
 looked at the situation of the door, and Rory, 
 kissing it, added, " by the contents o' this bless- 
 ed book, if masther Neddy M'Daniel rides out 
 in a shower, to-morrow, he'll find himself on 
 his coult's back in the turnin' iv a hand." 
 
 " And why in a shower ?" asked Edmund. 
 
 " That's the little bit iv a sacret that's in id, ' 
 
 * Hundred thousand thanks. 
 VOL. I. N 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 Rory replied, smiling very graciously, as if to 
 say, " sure you can't be angry wid a body for 
 that;" and vague and nonsensical as was this 
 promise, the parties were, perforce, obliged to 
 put up with it. 
 
 " An* now I may jest go, an' thry my enday- 
 vours?" he resumed; and having got an assent 
 — " well ; a good night an' my blessin' on all 
 the genteels o' the company, an' on all in the 
 house, this night, I pray Gor," Rory said in 
 conclusion, as he shuffled through the door. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 267 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Our friends, resuming their seats at their own 
 table, when Rory had gone, observed that, during 
 the scene with him, O'Haggerty had sat down, 
 sullenly, at the empty table which the peasants 
 first occupied, and the stranger, who had en- 
 couraged the townspeople, as silently, if not as 
 sullenly, at the other empty table, lately sur- 
 rounded by his party; both seemingly indif- 
 ferent to the interest the Rapparee had excited, 
 and as if their minds and passions were en- 
 grossed by subjects more important. The pri- 
 mitive looking person returned, after attending 
 the departure of the townspeople, and now took 
 a seat beside his convert; Priest M'Donnell, 
 following his good example, rose from his 
 friends, and joined O'Haggerty. 
 
 " Gracious God !" cried Evelyn, when all 
 were thus disposed ; ** and is it to witness such 
 N 2 
 
268 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 scenes as those acted here to-night, I have re- 
 turned, from wandering in a distant land, to 
 the country of my birth ?" 
 
 " Alas! it is, Evelyn," said Edmund, ** and 
 worse scenes than even these, I fear." 
 
 " It is," echoed the friar, not yet calm, as was 
 evident from the tone of his voice ; " and such 
 scenes must be acted, and acted better too, ere 
 there is peace for the land." 
 
 *' I agree," said the stranger at the far end 
 of the room, speaking slowly, as he returned the 
 glance which accompanied the friar's words. 
 
 " You have left but little quiet after you, 
 either, when you embarked from England," 
 continued Edmund. 
 
 " Little, indeed ; England, tho' not shewing 
 such brawls, labours, this moment, under the 
 silent throes of universal convulsion ; and men 
 seem to have good reason for being disturbed. 
 Saying nought of the unexpected acts of abso- 
 lute power, which occurred ere you and I part- 
 ed, the levying imposts, and the dispensing with 
 the tests, for instance, what shall we say of the 
 imprisoning of the bishops ?" 
 
 " That, indeed, was the first crying griev- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 269 
 
 ance," interrupted the strange gentleman, speak- 
 ing as deliberately as he had done before, while 
 his grave, and rather austere features remained 
 seemingly undisturbed. 
 
 " It was the first act that gave true hope to a 
 persecuted people," said the friar, still violent- 
 ly : " alas ! that it has not been followed up 
 more promptly." 
 
 " In good time will it be accounted for," re- 
 joined his opponent. 
 
 " With the Lord's help," added O'Haggerty. 
 
 " Then, the arrest of Coke for but seconding 
 a motion to consider so rash and violent an ad- 
 dress as never before king made to his parlia- 
 ment," Evelyn went on ; " and the attack on 
 the colleges to force in popish members ; and 
 all this, and more, attempted in a way too des- 
 potic and swaggering for the Turk himself, 
 over his base and servile people." 
 
 " I admit, Evelyn, the wildness and wanton- 
 ness of these acts," said Edmund, "justly should 
 protestants feel aggrieved at them; yet are 
 they, after all, but the extravagant efforts of 
 an angry and misadvised man to enforce a 
 royal privilege never before legally impeached. 
 
270 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 tho' it has been by the regicides dreadfully re- 
 sisted ; and such was my view of what was to 
 happen, when last we spoke together. James 
 announces his intention to dispense with the 
 tests ; he is crossed and animadverted upon, nay 
 braved; and, accordingly, he imprisons those 
 who cross and brave him ; and in various despe- 
 rate, and, indeed, impossible ways, strives to 
 establish his undoubted right. Sharp preaches 
 against him, and he commands the bishop of 
 London to silence Sharp ; the bishop refuses, 
 and he suspends the bishop; other bishops take 
 part against him ; he is pushed, farther and far- 
 ther, on shewing his royal authority, and he 
 commits them to the Tower. Then must he 
 still persevere in asserting his absolute privi- 
 lege ; and so, having already placed Roman 
 Catholics on the bench, in the council, and in 
 the army, he will also place them in the col- 
 leges. All this, while it is madly done, is na- 
 tural." 
 
 " Is good and Godly," said the friar. 
 
 *^ Is a subversion of the constitution," said the 
 other. 
 
 " Pardon me, gentlemen, both," said Evelyn. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER, 271 
 
 " It cannot be good nor Godly, sir," addressing 
 the friar, " to enforce even a right in a grievous 
 and despotic method ; and how shall the consti- 
 tution be overthrown by opening it to men of all 
 persuasions, sir ?" turning to the second speaker : 
 " while we call our king bigotted and violent, 
 for asking his subjects only to allow to their 
 brethren of his own religion a freedom of con- 
 science, what do we but prove our own bigotry 
 and violence by saying nay? Here is a man would 
 give equal rights to all; there another who 
 would keep every thing to himself; which is the 
 more unreasonable ?" 
 
 " Papists have proved that they are unfit for 
 civil rights," said the person last addressed. 
 
 " They have proved they could obtain them," 
 said Evelyn. " The rights we have are of their 
 making." 
 
 " Nor did they ever attack the constitution," 
 said Edmund. 
 
 " No," said the friar, " it was not they who 
 murdered their king." 
 
 " Anent the righteous taking of forfeit life 
 from that man, Charles, they never got the grace 
 to do it," observed Oliver. 
 
272 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " Besides," the stranger continued, as if only 
 vouchsafing to follow up his own last speech, 
 " it is not toleration for papists that is sought, 
 but total power, and total exclusion for protest- 
 ants; else, why send an ambassador, my lord 
 Castlemain, to confer with the pope ? why open- 
 ly receive in England the pope's nuncio, which 
 is treason by the law ? why openly profess the 
 mass ? why openly appoint a Jesuit to the coun- 
 cil ? why break up all the charters, that the 
 crown might rule all appointments ?" 
 
 " But by whom, sir, do you suppose this in- 
 tention to be holden ?" asked Edmund. " Is it 
 by the pope ? he has laughed at Castlemaine, 
 and by letter warned James against any such 
 thought. At the suggestion of France ? Louis is 
 at war with Rome, and therefore may be excus- 
 ed his zeal. — By the catholic subjects of James? 
 Already have they addressed him to the effect 
 that they require but simple toleration of their 
 religion, security for their properties ; nay, some 
 even ask but the liberty to sell their properties, 
 and retire to France. Then does James himself 
 entertain the idea of totally subverting protest- 
 antism ? What ! alone ? without the counte- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 273 
 
 nance of his church — ^his allies — his popish peo- 
 ple — or, notwithstanding the admission of father 
 Petre — without the advice of the popish lords 
 of his council, whose opinions are so well 
 known ? No, sir, it is an assumption that, even 
 now, the zeal of party cannot prove, though 
 it is its, object to do so, and that posterity 
 will altogether reject. By unchristian and sel- 
 fish opposition to an equitable act, for which, I 
 again say, he had a privilege hitherto unim- 
 peached ; his imperious disposition may be 
 roused into unworthy harshness ; and those 
 whose selfishness and bigotry would again em- 
 broil us all, may, for aught I know, give that 
 harshness such a direction as assumes the sem- 
 blance of a view our sovereign never had." 
 
 " You say it, at last, young man," resumed the 
 person he addressed : " even supposing the 
 royal mind unconscious of the real tendency of 
 what it wills, and endeavours to effect, there are 
 those around him who weigh that tendency 
 well, and are apt to calculate it." 
 
 " And that I believe," said Evelyn. 
 
 *' Let it be so," said Edmund, " I am — dis- 
 gusted." 
 
 N 3 
 
2*74 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 "If you doubt," continued the stranger, still 
 addressing Edmund, "ask the reverend friar, 
 there ; he can tell you." 
 
 " Mayhap he can ; but reverend friars do not 
 tell all they know for all that ask," said O'Hag- 
 gerty." 
 
 " Then Don Pedro Ronquillo, the ambassador 
 to the English court after the death of Charles 
 II. must serve," resumed the disputant. " Hav- 
 ing asked leave to speak his mind freely, at his 
 first audience, and obtained leave for the same, 
 ' Sire,' said Don Pedro, *I see many priests about 
 you ; do not give ear to their advice.' * Your 
 Spanish kings have their ghostly advisers, have 
 they not V asked James, angrily. * Yes, sire,' 
 answered Don Pedro, * and that is the reason 
 our affairs go so ill.' " 
 
 " Not so ill, either, in the application," said 
 the friar, " as the Lord, in his own good time 
 will shew ; and touching the agency of father 
 Petre, in London, or of his humble servants 
 here, is it not as warrantable as the counsels of 
 Burnett at the Hague ? " the person spoken to 
 started, as if disagreeably surprised at the know- 
 ledge of events these words conveyed — " or," 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 275 
 
 the friar went on, " of William King, in Dub- 
 lin, or of the incendiary, George Walker, thro' 
 all these northern counties ?" 
 
 " Talk not idly or fancifully of men too much 
 above you, and too far away, to allow of your 
 even guessing at their actions, friar," returned the 
 strange gentleman ; " and as to George Walker, 
 slander him not by foul words, till you beheve 
 you dare do so to his face." 
 
 " Do you know him, man ?" asked O'Hag- 
 gerty. 
 
 " I will not aver I do," he was answered. 
 
 " Because if you did, you might bear him 
 this greeting ; that, until he and I meet, when I 
 can say it to his face, I but practise the de- 
 nouncing him, in the plainest words I may find, 
 as a bold and blasphemous heretic, and a com- 
 mon traitor and knave — and so much for your 
 « dare.' " 
 
 " Still would you omit to say this to his face," 
 rejoined the stranger, becoming agitated for the 
 first time, "lest he should tell you that your 
 tongue spoke the words of falsehood, and that 
 yourself was the knave and traitor, and not he." 
 
 " Now, by the saints, your own tongue utters 
 
276 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 falsehood, bold fellow," the friar started up, 
 " let him stand before me, and I will prove as 
 much." 
 
 The stranger was about to rise also, coolly and 
 sternly, when Con M'Donnell, whose lynx eye 
 had been watching him, and therefore caught, 
 perhaps, sooner than any other, some glimpse 
 of his under-dress, rushed forward, threw aside 
 his horseman's cloak, and the attire of a pro- 
 testant clergyman, over which were a dragoon's 
 rusty back and breast piece, became visible to 
 all. Not noticing this interruption, the stranger 
 slowly advanced towards the middle of the room, 
 saying— 
 
 " Come forward half way to meet me, friar" — 
 they met, front to front, and " behold the man !" 
 he added. 
 
 " Blasphemer, traitor, and knave then !" cried 
 his opponent, laying hand on his sword. 
 
 " And liar, and real traitor and knave !" re- 
 torted Walker. " Good fellow, lend me your 
 weapon," — to Oliver. 
 
 " Art thou a prelatist preacher, or one of the 
 Lord's people ?" queried old Noll. 
 
 '' In nought am I so much with you as in 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 277 
 
 common hatred of such as this man — give it me, 
 or the cruel papist will stab me as I stand." 
 
 " Take tiien a blade whilk has not been un- 
 famiHar with malignant blood," said Oliver. 
 
 Walker had scarce received the weapon when 
 his antagonist cut at him, harmlessly however, as 
 the blow was turned by Walker's front piece ; and 
 ere another attempt could be made on either side, 
 the spectators, hitherto inactive from surprise 
 and consternation, rushed between the comba- 
 tants. The old priest, and the spare tall man 
 first separated them, and the former exclaimed, 
 
 " Men of wrath and blood, forbear ! enemies 
 and disturbers of God and his word, strike not 
 with the cruel sword ! Hath He sent ye, as ye 
 say, for a message of peace and good-will on 
 earth, and thus do you teach His people ?" 
 
 " No ; His messengers ye cannot be," said 
 the other peace-maker. " His spirit never hath 
 been with ye : deceive not yourselves, and strive 
 not scandalously with each other for that which 
 neither possesseth !" 
 
 " And who is he that dares say so ?" asked 
 Walker. 
 
 " I am of the new and sorely-afflicted people, 
 
278 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 called Quakers," he answered ; *' men spurned 
 and persecuted of all, howbeit loving and wish- 
 ing well to all, and doing nought to anger man, 
 save in their fear and worship of the living 
 God. Beyond the endurance of weak flesh have 
 we suffered in the land of England, and here I 
 journey through your land, sent forth by the 
 brethren to seek out, and it may be, crave a 
 nook or a corner wherein some of us may abide 
 in peace — alas, alas ! this night hath shewn me 
 that I shall search the land through and through, 
 and find no such shelter ; but even while I so- 
 journ among ye, lo! I uplift my voice in the 
 Spirit, saying, woe, woe to the peace-breakers ! 
 woe to the man who causeth blood to be shed 
 in the name of Him that turneth his eye from 
 blood, or else sees its smoke rise up in wrath ! 
 — woe to the blasphemer ! — and treble woe to 
 him who hath declared himself the preacher of 
 peace, yet girds himself with the biting sword, 
 and lifts up his hand in strife ! — Hear me," he 
 continued, with increased energy — " I am one 
 of those who subscribed, what men have named 
 an address, to James, when the Lord called 
 suddenly from life our good friend, Charles ; 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 279 
 
 therein expressing sorrow for the land's loss, 
 we besought him, seeing he was not, no more 
 than ourselves, of the established church, to 
 grant us the same liberty he allowed himself; 
 wherefore, it must have appeared to all, that 
 while we prayed indulgence for ourselves, we 
 thought equal indulgence to all good and need- 
 ful ; and was our view unwise or uncharitable ? 
 — how could we hope or ask to be dealt with, 
 but as we dealt with others ? Is it not com- 
 manded, do as you would be done by? — where- 
 fore, I say to ye, again, so deal in peace amongst 
 yourselves ; let not one covet the whole, that 
 his brother may be left naked ; the twelve tribes 
 had, each, their share of the land ; there was 
 no bondage out of the old Israel ; no helots in 
 the new; nor hath it ever been written — de- 
 prive, that ye may enjoy ; persecute, that ye 
 may shew your zeal ; spill blood, yea, blood of 
 your own blood, that ye may glorify Me ; least 
 of all — do these things in My Ministry." 
 
 " Friar," said Walker, at the end of this ad- 
 dress, while both stood parted, and scowling on 
 each other — ** recant the words you have spo- 
 ken of me." 
 
280 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " False preacher," returned his antagonist, 
 " you shall never hear me recant them. Here 
 and elsewhere, to yourself and all others, in the 
 streets and in the deserts, at the board or in 
 the field, I shall repeat and make them good." 
 
 *' Abide it then ; — cross your sword with 
 mine." 
 
 " Oh, let them not do battle .'"—cried the 
 Quaker, appealing with clasped hands to the 
 spectators : " for the sake of the common sal- 
 vation w^e all hope for — for the sake of the mi- 
 nistry they both shame — for the sake of their 
 common God — for their own sake and ours — 
 for mercy's sake and decency's sake, let not 
 their weapons meet !" 
 
 *' Father O'Haggerty," exclaimed Priest 
 McDonnell, "you are under my jurisdiction; 
 raise but a hand, and be excommunicate !" 
 
 " Fear not, gentlemen," said Edmund and 
 Evelyn, together — " here shall be no scandal 
 that we can prevent." 
 
 " The Lord's quarrel must be fought," said 
 Oliver ; but Con M'Donnell was on him in a 
 moment. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 281 
 
 *' I believe you mistake us, gentlemen all," 
 resumed Walker ; " neither of us now wish to 
 proceed in this matter ; you, O'Haggerty, know 
 what I mean." 
 
 " I do. Walker," answered the friar. 
 
 " Then let our weapons cross in present 
 peace, gentlemen," continued his adversary. 
 
 " Your words are pledged that it shall be in 
 peace ?" asked Evelyn. 
 
 Both assented ; and way was then made for 
 them to re-approach each other. They did so, 
 slowly, and with fixed regards ; and when their 
 swords crossed — 
 
 " Now, O'Haggerty," said Walker, " pledge 
 me ; I kiss my sword ; I rest it on yours, and I 
 swear" — 
 
 " Swear not!" — interrupted the man of peace. 
 
 " To meet you," continued Walker, " and 
 soon, where we shall have clear ground to dis- 
 cuss this question, and where, God willing, you 
 shall own you have wronged me." 
 
 " And I," replied his opponent — " by the 
 sign which our swords now make, I swear" — 
 also kissing his blade. 
 
 " Blaspheme not, man !" cried Priest JVPDon- 
 
282 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 nell ; " for the oath were, indeed, blasphemous, 
 and the sign to which thou appealest, insulted, 
 not reverenced in it ; or, uncross your swords, 
 and if, against the voice of me, thy father in 
 Christ, — against the law of that religion which 
 implores and judges thee, at the same moment, 
 thou wilt jeopard thy soul by this blasphemy 
 -—kiss the edge of the weapon, man, in its own 
 nakedness, and its own character, and not while 
 it helps to form, in most impious mockery, the 
 symbol of that tree upon which God's blood 
 was spilt, to prevent, among other things, the 
 spilling of his creatures' blood, by one another. 
 — Oh, think ye of his last commandment, my 
 children !" the old man continued, with uplifted 
 hands and streaming eyes, — " * A New com- 
 mandment this night I give unto you,' said the 
 God of peace, * that ye love one another^ '* 
 
 " I swear," resumed O'Haggerty, unmoved, 
 and uninfluenced from his purpose ; " to seek 
 for you, even on such ground as you lay out, 
 and, as the Lord shall enable me, uphold my 
 words." 
 
 " So then good night,'* added Walker, and 
 slowly left the room. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 283 
 
 " Thou hast committed the blasphemy, ob- 
 durate man," resumed Priest McDonnell, facing 
 O'Haggerty, his palsy controlled for a mo' 
 ment ; " renounce it, repent you, or be accurst 
 in the very consequences of the act !" and he, 
 too, left the room. The quaker, Con McDon- 
 nell, Evelyn, and Oliver, unwillingly, but com- 
 pelled by his master, followed ; and Edmund 
 also was about to go out, when the friar pulled 
 his sleeve, and earnestly motioned him to re- 
 main ; so they sat down alone in the waste and 
 now gloomy apartment. 
 
 After they had sat a few minutes silently toge- 
 ther— 
 
 " I rejoice that we have met, Edmund M*Don- 
 nell," said the friar. Edmund started. 
 
 " How, sir ! you know me then ?" 
 
 " I know your person well ; and for some 
 time have been wishing to speak with you. Let 
 me proceed. The times begin to assume such 
 an appearance as calls on every true son of holy 
 church to buckle on his armour, and take the 
 field in her name, and for her cause, and makes 
 it specially imperative on men like you, young, 
 gifted, and of influence amongst your own peo- 
 ple, to be the first up and stirring." 
 
284 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " I know not to what you allude," said McDon- 
 nell. 
 
 " Other and most unworthy thoughts must 
 have sinfully kept your mind, then, from a 
 proper consideration of matters that should 
 interest you : but, even so, you cannot surely 
 plead ignorance of the bigotted and furious op- 
 position given by our enemies to our sacred 
 king, merely because he would at last partially 
 relieve the sufferings of his church ; nor of the 
 well-known machinations on foot to take from 
 him his throne and life, that so his Godly 
 wishes towards us may be fully frustrated, and 
 we handed over to a persecution unprecedented 
 even by all that has gone before — to utter de- 
 struction — to extermination ?" 
 
 " This much I know too well, reverend fa- 
 ther; that the violence and folly of James's 
 methods to obtain us our rights, excuse any 
 violence with which he may be resisted." 
 
 " How, young sir ! beware of such words as 
 these." 
 
 "Why should I beware of speaking the plain 
 truth, may it please your reverence ?" Edmund 
 asked, in much excitement ; *^ before those who 
 have just left us, I did not care to utter my full 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 285 
 
 thoughts, seeing that they are not of our per- 
 suasion ; but to you, sir, I hesitate not to call 
 the king infatuated — mad — in his measures on 
 our behalf, and utterly unworthy even of our 
 countenance, not to say, gratitude — pray, in my 
 turn, let me proceed. 
 
 " While never king mounted the throne of 
 these realms with more substantial prospects of 
 a happy reign, never was one so warned, mean- 
 time, against the only course that could tum- 
 ble him from it, namely, the imperious and in- 
 temperate exercise of royal privilege. He had 
 seen his father's head cut off but for a slight, and 
 some will have it, only an attributed abuse of 
 absolute power ; he had witnessed the univer- 
 sal detestation of popery shewn a few^ years be- 
 fore, in the credulous belief of the popish plot ; 
 he had beheld a bill of exclusion, cutting him 
 off from the succession, moved in parliament, 
 and actually carried through one house ; he 
 had been in exile, only because he was a Ro- 
 man Catholic ; his brother had cautioned him, 
 on his death-bed, against too openly encou- 
 raging his religion ; its visible head on earth 
 wrote him a like caution : catholic foreigners 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 at his court, and the catholic lords of his coun- 
 cil repeated such advice ; and yet, how has he 
 acted ? — Because, at the first ahrupt announce- 
 ment of his intention to dispense with the tests, 
 men were found higotted enough to oppose him 
 — James re-establishes an inquisitorial court of 
 ecclesiastic commission to terrify the church; 
 sends many reverend prelates to the Tower, as 
 if, by such a public exhibition of his own des- 
 potism, and their suffering, he wished to in- 
 flame beyond patience, the slumbering rancour 
 of the gazing rabble — cancels the charters, that 
 so he may appoint all magistrates, and through 
 them a new parliament — thus actually striking 
 at the root of the great tree of British liberty ; 
 keeps a nuncio, and consecrates Roman Catho- 
 lic prelates, at his own chapel in London, as if 
 in determined insult to the fixed prejudices of 
 his English people, or else in as determined an 
 effort to disgust them, and arouse, for ever, their 
 jealousy and hatred of himself, his creed, and 
 all that profess it ; dismisses his own brothers- 
 in-law. Clarendon and Rochester, with Somer- 
 set, and other high nobles, merely because they 
 continue protestants, or refuse assent to his 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 287 
 
 abuse of power ; and to consummate at once 
 his vehemence and absurdity, calls, by letter, 
 on his protestant son-in-law, the Prince of 
 Orange, to agree in his measures for dispen- 
 sing with the tests, at the very moment that 
 his own kingdom is violently unanimous against 
 him; and when, had he a grain of sound sense, 
 he ought to have foreseen the denial that, with 
 a cool view to his future interests, must have 
 come from the prince, and, at the same time, 
 that must have turned the faces of all England 
 from a popish innovator to a protestant advo- 
 cate; nay, untaught either by the warning of 
 others, or by the repulses that on every side he 
 meets from the national church, the parliament, 
 and his son-in-law — whom, in the name of rea- 
 son, doth he try to disgust next ? — why his last 
 and only stay — his army — ground arms, he says, 
 or declare in favour of my privilege, and their 
 arms are grounded. Good God, reverend sir, 
 if this be not madness, where shall we look for 
 it ? — It IS madness of the most egregious kind, 
 inexcusable — from whomsoever he has drawn 
 his pernicious councils — in the prince of a great 
 nation, in whom a want of wisdom and temper 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 is a prime deficiency; and, I repeat, calling 
 upon us, who shall suffer most by the results — 
 us, who ask not, wish not this kind of support 
 —for any thing but gratitude. It is worse than 
 madness, sir," Edmund warmly continued, " it 
 is error — great error — wrong against the spirit 
 of the constitution, and against the people he 
 has sworn, and so often promised to regard- — 
 wrong for which he will suffer, and which he 
 deserves to rue." 
 
 " I have heard you, without interruption, 
 speak treason, over and over, stripling, resumed 
 O'Haggerty, " the rather that, along with al- 
 lowance for your extreme youth, I know the 
 snare which the devil has laid to seduce your 
 heart from the cause of holy church, or, at the 
 least, to make you lukewarm in her service." 
 
 " I would request of your reverence to ex- 
 plain." 
 
 " Is not your heart, this moment, in the keep- 
 ing of a Philistine woman — a heretic and scof- 
 fer, out of the pale of the faith and of salva- 
 tion ? — nay, would you not wed her, to the 
 scandal of your own people, the peril of your 
 earthly weal, and the sure forfeiture of your 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 289 
 
 eternal happiness ? — Can you deny me that ?" — 
 " Half of it, reverend sir, I wish not to deny, 
 as it shall not be denied me ; namely, that I 
 love, and, please God, will marry, with my good 
 father's consent, and that of my own pastor, a 
 virtuous protestant lady; for the other half, 
 your reverence will excuse me, as on these mat- 
 ters I am no casuist ; and you will also excuse 
 the expression of my great astonishment that 
 you think it needful thus to busy yourself with 
 my private affairs, which certainly concern nei- 
 ther you nor the topic of discourse." 
 
 " Rude boy, hold you such language to a 
 zealous son of the church's ministry ? — has your 
 falling off and your backsliding made you so 
 bold already ? — But it is well ; and, mayhap, a 
 meet reward for the anxious friend who has 
 long sought to serve you. Attend to me, not- 
 withstanding. If, against the countenance of 
 our holy mother, the church, you persevere in 
 this scandalous connexion— " 
 
 '" Hold you there, reverend father ; I utterly 
 gainsay two points of that speech; first, that 
 the spirit or doctrine of my religion is against 
 the free use of my will, in bestowing my heart 
 
 VOL. I. o 
 
^90 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 where I please ; next, that you have used a 
 proper, or a decorous epithet in describing my 
 contract with my chosen lady." 
 
 " If," the friar continued, not seeming to no- 
 tice the interruption — '^ if, indeed, the allure- 
 ments of the evil one shall tempt you into a 
 downright alliance with your sworn enemies, 
 and the enemies of us all, how will you rest 
 your head on her bosom who is sister to. one of 
 those now in active preparation to dethrone 
 and murder their sovereign, and, at the same 
 time, to rise up in the night and spill your own 
 
 blood r 
 
 " I wholly reject the idea of any such project 
 as your reverence has last alluded to ; idle and 
 vulgar rumour it is, wickedly countenanced by 
 those whose angle is only for troubled water ; 
 as to the possibility of my friend's knowledge of 
 one project or the other, I should contradict it 
 in another way, had any but a clergyman spoken 
 the word." 
 
 " Insult me as you will, I do my duty by you ; 
 what will you say, to-morrow, to find that very 
 seeming friend pledged to support an expected 
 usurpation, and pledged, too, to the mahgnant 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 291 
 
 Walker, whose spirit and views you have, this 
 night, seen sufficiently manifested ?" 
 
 " Again I can only answer — impossible." 
 
 " But suppose it ?" — urged his companion, 
 with a quiet certainty of manner that was alarm- 
 ing. 
 
 " Then" — said Edmund, after a sad and 
 painful pause, " then would he prove the most 
 treacherous friend that man ever took into his 
 bosom." 
 
 *' Could he be your friend, after it?" 
 
 " The devil as soon," answered Edmund ve- 
 hemently — " but still I call all this a dream." 
 
 " Call it so ; but suppose, too, he had a sis- 
 ter who was his confidant — nay, now, you chal- 
 lenge me too boldly with your looks, young 
 man ; let us pass that question, and solemnly 
 weigh another. When you shall see your 
 king—" 
 
 " Should I see him," interrupted Edmund, 
 " made as low as his own folly merits, I will never 
 draw sword in his cause." 
 
 " In whose, then ?" — Edmund was silent. 
 
 " I expected this wavering on a point you 
 have never before considered ; look at it now 
 o 2 
 
^2 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 boldly and honestly, as becomes a man and a 
 christian. What will you do ?" 
 
 '* Gracious God !" — exclaimed the young 
 man, sorely agitated — "must it, indeed, come 
 to this ? — must there be no peace, no brother- 
 hood on earth, that the sacred name of religion 
 shall not be used to tear asunder ?— and since 
 the first preaching of Christianity, to this day, 
 can we find scarce a war, a devastation, foreign 
 or domestic, that religion has not caused, or its 
 ministers, on one side or another, cried up ? — 
 Monstrous, monstrous !" 
 
 " Make systems as you like ; but — what will 
 you do ?" — urged the friar, speaking very slowly 
 — " When you behold your lawful king and your 
 holy faith trampled to the ground ; when your 
 abhorring enemies rise up in strength and in 
 bloody purpose around you—" 
 
 " It is unnecessary to heighten the picture, 
 sir," Edmund again interrupted ; — " in defence 
 of a violated throne, of a sovereign outraged 
 and wronged — I — in fact, I suppose, we are to 
 do as we have ever done, and suffer as we have 
 ever suffered, in a contest not of our own seek- 
 ing, and at the instigation of some men who 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 293 
 
 should very differently prompt us, and against 
 the anathema of others, whose hatred we un- 
 consciously arouse ; let it be ; let our ill-fated 
 country be once more chosen as the arena for a 
 struggle between an English monarch and his 
 restless people, and, whichever is up, whichever 
 down, let us bear the hardest blows, and, finally, 
 the only lasting injury." 
 
 " I witness your admission, then, to be in 
 readiness for the great day of struggle, when, 
 surely, the Lord will protect his own, to stand 
 at the head of your hardy people, in your na- 
 tive glen, and lead them forth at the word of 
 your king and of your God ?" 
 
 ** You witness my admission, passively, if not 
 willingly, to fight, even though he has erred, for 
 the king who would give me rehgious freedom, 
 against those who would keep me shackled — 
 what else, in such a case, is left for us to do ? — 
 neutral no man can hope to be, while the hur- 
 ricane passes over his land ; — but is this day so 
 surely to come, reverend father ?" 
 
 " Surely ; as those who best know have told 
 me ; but it is yet a question whether we wait for 
 it, or make it ; whetiier we pause, too long, 
 
^94* THE BOYNE WATER, 
 
 perhaps, until the hand of extermination is 
 raised up against us, our king remaining inac- 
 tive, or cooled and frightened in his measures — 
 or whether we take courage to anticipate the 
 deadly blow by one as deadly, and at once give 
 him protection, and ourselves security." 
 
 Edmund paused at this new view of the ques- 
 tion ; but at last asked — " you now mean a 
 rising, here in Ireland, on our own counsel, and 
 without his command ?" 
 
 " It may be — nay, it is, that, wishing well to 
 say the word, he is so beleagured he dares 
 not ; and where king and religion are both at 
 stake, it would be but the duty of good subjects 
 and pious men, to act, even of their own accord, 
 for the interests of both." 
 
 " A weak thought, sir," said Edmund, " and, 
 believe me, no part of the counsel of any men, 
 in either country, who are of importance or ho- 
 nour to his majesty's cause." 
 
 O'Haggerty bit his lip, but resumed, handing 
 a parchment, " Read that ; and, good night." 
 
 He withdrew ; Edmund, looking over the 
 parchment, found it to be a commission, issued 
 in Tyrconnel's name, appointing him officer, un- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. ^5 
 
 der the earl of Antrim, of a company of men, to 
 be raised, in his native district, for the newly or- 
 dered levy of thirty thousand Irish soldiers. His 
 first feeling on thus finding himself named to a si- 
 tuation of some trust and importance, was plea- 
 sure, and gratified vanity ; the next, doubt and 
 ill-omen of the results ; and for some time he 
 sat, almost in darkness, indulging a train of sad 
 and fearful anticipations of his own future pros- 
 pects, and those of his country. His love for 
 Esther, and the friar's prophecy with regard to 
 Evelyn, formed a necessary portion of these 
 thoughts ; and at last he retired to rest, a sad- 
 der man than he had ever before been, while he 
 pressed his nightly pillow. 
 
^6 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Whether or no O'Haggerty had private intel- 
 ligence of what Walker intended to effect with 
 Evelyn, or that he only spoke of, as certain, 
 what his insight into human probabilities led 
 him to suppose, it is undeniable that he shot 
 very near the mark. 
 
 Evelyn lay down to sleep in an indifferent bed 
 and a confined, ill-contrived room, of which the 
 door could not, by any effort or ingenuity on his 
 part be secured. His mind was vexed with the 
 occurrences and discussions of the evening, and 
 his spirits consequently depressed and gloomy. 
 After lying restless for some time, he fell into a 
 disturbed sleep, which the tone of his waking 
 thoughts still haunted with extravagant dreams. 
 He dreamt that he was married to Eva ; that he 
 had entered the bridal chamber, and just press- 
 ed the bridal couch, when a skein was plunged 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 297 
 
 into his breast ; for a moment he felt the agonies 
 of mortal pain, and lay, choaked with suffering, 
 unable to cry out ; then the sound of a trumpet 
 pierced his ears, and a figure, vaguely like his 
 father, stood by his bedside, shaking his arm, 
 and calling on him to rouse up. He awoke, and 
 really saw a person standing over him, with a 
 feeble lamp in one hand, and the other rested on 
 his shoulder. He looked again, in some alarm, 
 and recognized the pale, grave, and expressive 
 features of Walker ; and in the creaking of the 
 crazy door, yet in motion from that person's en- 
 trance, he at the same time caught the sound, 
 which, lyingly repeated by his sleeping sense, 
 conveyed to the cheated mind the idea of a 
 trumpet. 
 
 " Pardon me this intrusion," said Walker, " I 
 leave the house very early to-morrow morning, 
 and as I am deputed to hold with you some dis- 
 course of an important nature, I could not sleep 
 till we had entered upon it. I was your father's 
 friend. You may have heard him speak of 
 George Walker, rector of Donoughmore ?" 
 
 " I have sir, often," said Evelyn. 
 
 " In early life, before my translation to that 
 o 3 
 
298 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 parish, so far removed from his residence, we 
 were much together ; and ere you could know 
 my face I have danced you on my knee, and join- 
 ed in your father's prayer for your worldly and 
 eternal welfare. At my hands, too, you receiv- 
 ed second Hfe in the waters of baptism. We 
 meet not then as utter strangers to each other; 
 nor yet as men quite indifferent to each other's 
 interests and happiness, or to the words we may 
 interchange together." 
 
 Evelyn fitly, if not warmly, assented. 
 
 " I will sit, therefore, by your bedside and 
 tell my mission. You are prayed, by those of 
 your country and religion, who have a true in- 
 terest for both, to declare whether or no you 
 will join them in the coming endeavour for life 
 and faith." 
 
 " Pray, speak plainer, Mr. Walker," 
 
 " You know that the reign of James draws to 
 a close." 
 
 " I know not so, but I have heard such things 
 rumoured in my passage through England, and 
 hoped from my heart it was but idle rumour. 
 Why should the reign of James draw to a 
 close ?" 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 299 
 
 " That, at least, you know ; he has forfeited 
 his crown by attacking the constitution." 
 
 " By attacking it in what manner ?" 
 
 " Variously ; but especially in his effort to 
 admit papists into public situations of trust, 
 rank, and influence ; to which measure the very 
 nature of the constitution is opposed." 
 
 " That I cannot understand. If by the con- 
 stitution be meant the rights of the people, ob- 
 tained at different times, from different sove- 
 reigns, I must, as you have before heard me 
 say, remember that they were actually so ob- 
 tained by papists, and precisely to the extent in 
 which we now enjoy them ; ere catholic Eng- 
 land became protestant England, they existed ; 
 and from the reign of the first sovereign, no- 
 minally protestant, Henry, down to the last, 
 Charles- II. nothing?, — nothin^y in matter has 
 been added to them. Since, therefore, the con- 
 stitution has been formed by papists, how, in 
 reasoning or sense, can its nature be anti-papist ? 
 And again ; if James does not seek to annul 
 any one of the rights that make it what it is — 
 a matter allowed on all hands — but simply seeks 
 to admit to an enjoyment of them, in common 
 
300 THE BOYNE WATER, 
 
 with men of every sect, the persons whose an- 
 cestors have really set them up, in what manner 
 can he be said to attack * the constitution V — 
 What, after all, is the meaning of this gene- 
 rally adopted phrase? — Alas, alas, Mr. Walker, 
 I fear it has been only invented by a few men, 
 as a watch-word, and caught up and continued 
 by the many, without thought or analysis, un- 
 til, from every-day use, it means what they 
 please, and what both wish." 
 
 " We may argue as we can ; but when wiser 
 people than we have decided upon the ques- 
 tion, it is only so much mispent breath. We 
 must swim with the current of the times : fools 
 only would cross or breast it, and depend for 
 safety on the catching at straws. When the 
 great deliverer once lands—" 
 
 " How, Mr. Walker ! do you calculate so 
 surely on events ? — Is it to be, indeed ? and so 
 sudden?" 
 
 " Have I at least your promise of honorable 
 secrecy ?" 
 
 *' The very recollections under which we 
 meet, should give you that assurance, sir." 
 
 " Then, know, that I speak on the informa- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 301 
 
 tion of one, who, counselled and aided by the 
 Lord, has been the great agent and secret 
 light of the glorious change we all hope for; 
 and it needs but your declaration in our cause, 
 to supply you with the advices he has vouch- 
 safed from time to time to me." 
 
 " So certain, truly ! so very sudden ! — The 
 infatuated king already encompassed with de- 
 struction ! No pause for him — no time allowed 
 for a heated temper to cool — a warped judg- 
 ment to become righted! No endeavour to 
 conciliate— to advance half way — to reason with 
 him — to correct him ! No pity for the errors 
 of the son of many kings !" 
 
 " Rather say, no time allowed for the com- 
 pletion of the projects which aim at our destruc- 
 tion." 
 
 " No forbearance towards a king of known 
 and admitted talents and spirit? — who, when 
 Duke of York, advanced the character of the 
 British navy higher than it had ever stood ?— 
 who, at an earlier age, commanded the praises 
 of the two greatest generals of his time, Tu- 
 renne and Conde? — who has fought for England 
 in forty sea-fights, and in his very last encoun- 
 
30^ THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 ter with the Dutchman, De Ruyter, achieved 
 her a splendid victory? — No allowance — no 
 gratitude — no mercy for him? — has it ever been 
 questioned that, above all his family, he enter- 
 tained a high and jealous notion of the interests 
 and glory of his people and his nation ?" 
 
 " Never, I grant you, until this late attempt 
 to bully the one, and degrade the other." 
 
 " But how ? — has he not repeatedly assured 
 protestants that while he did only justice to his 
 own religion, he should never seek to injure or 
 weigh down theirs ? — and, during his whole 
 life, have not men of all sects regarded him as 
 an inviolable observer of his word ?" 
 
 " Yes, I grant you, again ; until at last he 
 broke it." 
 
 "How?-~how?" 
 
 " By the very act we have so often canvass- 
 ed; by his assuming the absolute power of 
 dispensing with the tests, and of suspending the 
 penal statutes." 
 
 " And again and again I deny, passing alto- 
 gether the separate question of assumed power, 
 that this amounts to a breach of his word ; to 
 an infringement on his pledge to protestants 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 that he would uniformly protect them ; unless, 
 indeed, protection of them essentially implies 
 persecution of others ; an unreasonable, un- 
 christian, and monstrous hypothesis." 
 
 " The bigotry of James is known to extend 
 farther than equal privileges for his own idola- 
 trous sect." 
 
 " How^ known ? by what he does at present ? 
 That question has been considered ; — by what 
 he has heretofore done? — Let us see. It was 
 not bigotry to allow, in deference to the preju- 
 dices of his English people, his two daughters, 
 and then his only children — " 
 
 " Aye, then'' — interrupted Walker, with a 
 bitter sneer. 
 
 " To allow them to be educated in strict pro- 
 testantism ; it was not bigotry to give the elder 
 of them, the Princess Mary, heiress apparent to 
 the crown, to the protestant prince, William — 
 or the second, Anne, to another protestant 
 prince, George of Denmark ; it was not bigotry 
 to pass by, after he became sovereign of Eng- 
 land, all those who had been dreadfully distin- 
 guished as the plotters or agents of the popish 
 plot, contenting himself with making one sole 
 
304 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 example of public justice, in the person of its 
 most infamous propagator, Oates — and even tQ 
 that hideous monster life was spared ;— it was 
 not bigotry to spare, in life and property, the 
 very men who, by pressing the bill of exclusion, 
 had laboured to disinherit him, and whose ef- 
 forts sent him an exile from his land and his 
 people ; this was not bigotry ; — how, then, shall 
 we prove the vulgar clamour ? — he has not been 
 —he is not bigotted in his measures, but ' 'tis 
 known' he will be — who has made it known? 
 In one word, Mr. Walker, how, from any 
 thing the unfortunate monarch has attempted, 
 from even the wildest assertion of his privi- 
 lege — how has he injured — yourself, for in- 
 stance .'* During nearly five years that he has 
 sat on the throne of his fathers, have your 
 rights, as a protestant, been abridged, or your 
 ministry, as a protestant clergyman, interrupt- 
 ed?"— 
 
 " I answer you, calmly, yes ; — for think you 
 it is no interruption of my ministry to encoun- 
 ter, since the beginning of this ungodly reign, 
 such disturbers as the dangerous man we sat 
 with to-night, left free to preach and teach. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 305 
 
 where before they durst not raise their voices 
 m the land ? — is it no hindrance to my ministry, 
 and to the spreading and welfare of the religion 
 whose minister I am, to see mass-houses open, 
 where, in the former reign, there was waste 
 and goodly silence ? — to meet, in every corner 
 of Ireland, a tolerated priest, where before the 
 scum and vermin durst not shew their heads? 
 or to see papist prelates received at court, 
 where before it was treason, by the law, but to 
 sound their names ?" 
 
 " No, Mr. Walker, I cannot think that this 
 is, necessarily, any hindrance to your ministry 
 or our common religion ; leaving out of the 
 question the friar O'Haggerty, as a kind of 
 man who can well be spared on both sides, you 
 would not surely mean to say that the truth 
 you preach depends, for its effect, on the ab- 
 sence or silence of the error it opposes ? By 
 contrast with error should the truth shine more 
 brightly ; nor did the universal prevalence of 
 error, when religion was first preached, retard 
 its unpersecuting way by the side of Him who 
 led it triumphant, not in a battle-chariot, or at 
 the point of the sword, but wreathed • in the 
 
306 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 chaplet of peace, and scattering the flowers of 
 persuasion. Are you fretted and irritated, then, 
 as a worldly man, to see the degraded arise, the 
 trampled walk upright, the persecuted, pitied, 
 fellow creatures vindicated? — Is it from the 
 weaker impulses of our nature you talk so bit- 
 terly of tolerated priests and popish prelates at 
 court ? — Are those who differ from you * scum 
 and vermin,' merely _ because they do ? differ- 
 ence does not imply inferiority : or else because 
 you have yourself tried to make them so ? That 
 may be the better reason ; we do not, alas ! 
 readily forgive men for having injured them." 
 " You do not speak as a good protestant." 
 " If protestantism mean monopoly — if good 
 protestantism mean bad Christianity — I do not ; 
 yet will I prove myself an orthodox member of 
 the reformed christian faith, and hold these 
 sentiments at the same time. I own, however, 
 they somewhat differ from the superfluity of 
 sectarian zeal taught me in my childhood ; but 
 travel, Mr. Walker,^and conversing with men of 
 different countries and enlarged minds, does 
 much to mix up reason and charity with the 
 mere formalities of religion — and another acci- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 307 
 
 dent may have lately helped to fix my mind in 
 its present temper." 
 
 " May I inquire what accident that was ?" 
 
 " Oh — nothing of import to influence the 
 opinions of any man but myself." 
 
 " No matter ; let me judge." 
 
 " It would be useless, indeed; excuse me, 
 sir." 
 
 " Youth," urged Walker, managing the in- 
 troduction of this delicate point better than 
 O'Haggerty had done with Edmund, though 
 he stood just as little in need of information — 
 " I adjure you by the memory of your good fa- 
 ther, to declare to me what it is that has thus 
 most sinfully turned your eyes from the steady 
 and true light, to more than a half following of 
 the dangerous meteor of idolatry: by the friend- 
 ship of your father and myself, disguise not 
 your heart from me — I tremble, — I could weep 
 for you — son of my ancient friend ! relieve at 
 once the anguish I feel on your account ! You 
 have been listening to the insidious discourse of 
 Jesuits — you have entered the mass-house, and 
 hearkened to their poisonous preaching — that 
 is it?" 
 
308 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " No, sir," answered Evelyn, really affected 
 by the seeming interest of his companion — 
 " fear not for me, there ; I have but bestowed 
 — it has but happened that I have contracted 
 myself to an amiable — " 
 
 " To a papist 1" interrupted Walker, in sur- 
 prise and consternation, well feigned. 
 
 " To a Roman Catholic lady, sir." 
 
 " Contracted ! " — resumed the clergyman ; 
 then rivetting his angular eyes on Evelyn, and 
 speaking very slowly — •" you would wed her 
 then?" 
 
 " That question cannot surely mean — would 
 I dishonor myself or her?" said Evelyn, spirit- 
 edly. 
 
 ''Lost, lost!" Mr. Walker went on— " lost, 
 irrecoverably ! a goodly bough of the tree lopt 
 off, and cast for the burning! Better hadst 
 thou hearkened to the sophistry of all the 
 smooth tongues in St. Omer's ; better hadst 
 thou bent down before the idol in their very 
 mass-house ! — And, oh ! what has my old friend 
 escaped by his passage from tliis life to the glo- 
 ries which his unblemished faith secured him 
 in another — what has he escaped that he is not 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 309 
 
 here, to-night, to weep over the disgrace of his 
 only son !" 
 
 " Sir — Mr. Walker — I cannot understand" — 
 
 " No, boy, you cannot ! you know them not ! 
 You know not that the very motto of their 
 damnable and idolatrous sect is proselytism; 
 that by every means, and by the seductions and 
 entanglements practised on you, above all other 
 means, they labour, day after day, to decrease 
 the number of the righteous." 
 
 " I must at once say, sir, I have never seen 
 such attempts directed towards myself." 
 
 *' Indeed, and have you not ? and that is so 
 convincing, is it ? Think you the old serpent 
 goes to work so lamely ? Think you they would 
 at first let you detect their aims, that so you 
 might be at once disgusted and turned from 
 them for ever ? No, you have not observed their 
 attempts ; neither does old age observe its gra- 
 dual stooping to decrepitude, nor one's own eye 
 detect the encroach of wrinkles on one's own 
 face ; but ask your heart — call to mind the un- 
 sound doctrines you have this night uttered, 
 and answer me, now that I become your stand- 
 ard and your mirror, hath not your soul shrunk 
 
310 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 from its former uprightness of stature, and its 
 face become foul with wrinkles ? And if so soon 
 this premature decay is visible, what must you not 
 fear for yourself, when — oh, I have no patience to 
 speak it ! For I — I know them well ; through a 
 long hfe of zealous ministry, I know them well ; I 
 tell you, Robert Evelyn, that you cannot ima- 
 gine the refined arts with which they ensnare ; 
 to make a proselyte is their worldly, and, ac- 
 cording to their superstitious cant, their spiri- 
 tual object ; ruled as they are by their priests, 
 their wanton women never lose sight of it ; and 
 hence is their effort, every day, to secure a pro- 
 testant husband, that they may be raised from 
 content and obscurity, to rank and importance 
 in the land, and that they may add, at once, a 
 respectable name to papistry, in this world, and 
 by virtue of the act, insure for themselves a 
 seat in the next. These are the promptings 
 given, and the promises held out by their priests 
 — ask the woman who has undone you, and let 
 her answer whether or no she has not been so 
 tutored, and does not so purpose to practise on 
 
 you." 
 
 " I shall certainly never ask a question, Mr. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 311 
 
 Walker, so derogatory to my confidence in the 
 woman I would make my wife, and to her claims 
 on that confidence." 
 
 " Would you stoop, too, to wive with one of 
 the degraded of the land ? with your own bonds- 
 woman ? Nay," he continued rapidly, stopping 
 Evelyn's attempt to speak, " let me ask you, if 
 my worst fears are true ? I have met you here in 
 the company of one of the most noted enemies^ 
 though a stripling, like yourself — of the faith in 
 Ireland — he has a sister, can it be that wo- 
 man?" 
 
 " Sir," repUed Evelyn, distantly, " the lady is 
 Miss M'Donnell, the daughter of an ancient 
 and honorable family, though lately reduced by 
 oppression — " 
 
 " By the strong and righteous arm of the law 
 to beggary ! I know them well — rebels they 
 have been — beggars they are — and now, again, 
 the foremost, under guidance of that old inve- 
 terate plotter, Antrim, to head the very mas- 
 sacre which surely threatens us all ; that so, by 
 rebellion and blood, they may regain what they 
 have so justly forfeited!" 
 
 " Absurdity, sir ; absurdity and bigotry." 
 
S12 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " Misguided young man ! use not — dare not 
 to use to me these ill-weighed words ; I can 
 prove to you what I aver — I can prove, on the 
 testimony of all the protestant gentlemen of the 
 north — their well-grounded fears and wise pre- 
 parations forming that testimony — that we are 
 this moment surrounded by a plot to cut our 
 throats as we sleep in our beds ; that the recent 
 levy of a new and overpowering army of papists 
 is made in such a view, while every kerne in 
 Ireland goes armed, at the advice of their 
 priests, also waiting the yet imknown day. You 
 have noticed their arming ?" 
 
 ^' That, indeed, I have witnessed with sur- 
 prise, sir." 
 
 " I cry to you, therefore, beware ! look how 
 you form a connexion which must be entered 
 into with you, either for the purpose of involv- 
 ing you, as a proselyte; in the general conspi- 
 racy, or else — how shall I utter it! or else, 
 should you prove obstinate, of securing you its 
 easy victim; look to yourself, I say ! look to the 
 natural results in their great rising; when, to 
 gain you over, they must necessarily impart 
 some of their secrets ; when you, as a protes- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 313 
 
 tant, not entirely fallen, will gainsay them — blind 
 and unthinking youth! can you doubt the re- 
 sult ? Can you doubt that their Irish skeins will 
 be at your throat in a moment, to guard their 
 own projects by effectually silencing you ?" 
 
 " If, indeed, there is such strong assurance of 
 this inhuman conspiracy, sir," Evelyn began, at 
 last something wrought upon — 
 
 " If!" interrupted Mr. Walker, " look at this 
 paper, addressed to you, and which forms the 
 business of our present conference ; see it sign- 
 ed by every protestant name around you, known 
 as respectable; see, that, setting out with a 
 statement of their apprehension of a popish mas- 
 sacre, they proceed to advise you of their plan of 
 a counter-association, for the guarding of their 
 lives and properties, and then solicit you, as a 
 man of rank and place in the country, to join 
 them in their endeavour. Can you, as a protest- 
 ant gentleman — as the worthy son of my old 
 friend, refuse ?" 
 
 *' I shall not refuse, Mr. Walker, to unite in 
 any precaution, which, supposing the actual ex- 
 istence of a design against us, such as you seem 
 so sure of, the first principle of nature makes 
 
 VOL. I. p 
 
314 THE BOYNB WATER. 
 
 imperative; for the rest, I am guided by my 
 own judgment." 
 
 " I require no further resolve, at present ; 
 but, here," producing pen and ink, write your 
 assent to this invitation at the bottom of the 
 paper." Evelyn did so. " Keep the document, 
 now, for your own satisfaction, and perhaps, as 
 a salutary memento, and favour me with a copy 
 of your answer, to be presented, as common 
 courtesy requires, to those who have addressed 
 
 you." 
 
 Evelyn also complied with this reasonable re- 
 quest. " But, Mr. Walker," he resumed, " for- 
 get not that I reserve to myself the right of judg- 
 ing when I shall be truly called on to fulfil this 
 engagement." 
 
 *' I said before we must swim with the cur- 
 rent of the times. It may be that, until the de- 
 liverer of England lands on her shores, the 
 cruel papists of this country will not rise up 
 against us ; if, at that time they do so, however, 
 King James must, of course, be their watch-word, 
 and William, Prince of Orange, the professed 
 object of their bloody warfare, while on us they 
 really vent their hereditary hatred, and sectjt- 
 rian fury." 
 
I 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER. 315 
 
 " And am I to infer, sir, that, under such cir- 
 cumstances, my engaging in this association, is 
 to amount to open warfare against King James; 
 as well as protection of my own life and pro- 
 perty?" 
 
 " I have not said that the visit of WiHiam is 
 for the purpose of dethroning James ; listen 
 to me. You are now worthy of the confidence 
 I before alluded to, and you shall have it. I 
 spoke of a great man, a light of the reformed 
 faith, and a zealous labourer for our blessed con- 
 stitution, who during some time has conde- 
 scended to regard me as an available fellow ser- 
 vant in the righteous cause, and so advised me, 
 authentically, of the progress of events." 
 
 " You mean Doctor Burnet, sir, who sinoe 
 the commencement of the present reign, has 
 been on the contihent, mostly at William's 
 court?" 
 
 " The same ; and on his information, joined to 
 my own notice of the times, I proceed to lay this 
 matter fully before you. William has, since his 
 youth, been well regarded by England, because, 
 since his youth it has been his unceasing policy 
 to check the power and dim the eclat of her 
 p 2 
 
316 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 great rival, France, by arraying against that 
 haughty and innovating nation, the Emperor, 
 Spain, his own and the neighbouring states, and, 
 if possible. Great Britain." 
 
 " And I suspect, Mr. Walker, that as one of 
 the best means of completing the coalition, in 
 the last-named instance, it has rather been his 
 policy, too, from an early age, to fix his eye on 
 no less an object than the crown of Great Bri- 
 tain. I believe his early marriage, during 
 Charles's lifetime, with the heiress apparent, 
 might have happened in this view ; certainly, 
 the only piece of seeming enthusiasm that even 
 his frigid and sullen youth exhibited, was when 
 Sir William Temple came, after the prince had 
 remained a long time in uncertainty, to commu- 
 nicate the final assent of Charles and the then 
 duke, to his marriage with the lady Mary ; start- 
 ing up; and shewing a triumph that so cold a 
 man could never feel on the securing of a wife, 
 but which an ambitious and profound politi- 
 cian might well be surprised into, at the almost 
 unexpected achieving of a deep-laid project, he 
 caught the minister in his arms, and said he 
 had made him the happiest man in the world." 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 317 
 
 " Mayhap," resumed Walker, " I too suspect 
 that the Lord so disposed his heart, even at that 
 early period, for our good and deliverance. 
 About the time that the exclusion bill was mov- 
 ed, in Charles's parliament, against the duke, 
 his views were, however, less doubtfully indicated 
 to the Godly Burnet ; for, some time after that 
 event, as my memory serves, the great doctor 
 advised me that, under the especial help of Pro- 
 vidence, he had been enabled to receive the 
 prince's hints of a determination to support, 
 even against the bigotry of a father-in-law, and 
 as far as in him lay, the protestants of England ; 
 certainly, so soon as James proposed to dispense 
 with the tests, and had written to his daughter, 
 and son-in-law for their assent, the Lord's ser- 
 vant, having first approved of the letter that con- 
 tained their denial, obtained from William the 
 first unequivocal admission of his views, by 
 means of a previous conference with the prin- 
 cess, in which he convinced her zeal and natu- 
 ral affections, that it was her chief duty to pro- 
 tect her religion, and attend, forgetful of any 
 other relation, to the interests of her husband 
 
ol8 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 —nay, do her best to impress these interests on 
 his mind." 
 
 " Good God, Mr. Walker !— you talk of Je- 
 suits and of Jesuitical proceedings — you talk of 
 Petre influencing James's queen, and through 
 her, James's councils ; but what say you to 
 your own Jesuit, Burnet, at the Hague, thus, by 
 his and your admissions, instigating the daught- 
 er to dethrone, and — it may be — murder her fa- 
 ther ?" 
 
 " Again I remind you there is no warrant for 
 assuming that the actual dethroning of James is 
 intended ; indeed, I can almost convince you. 
 Though it is true that the persecuted bishops 
 secretly addressed him from the Tower, and, at 
 the same time, other eminent persons, it was 
 not till after the fictitious birth of a Prince of 
 Wales—" 
 
 " Aye, sir," interrupted Evelyn, " that real and 
 not fictitious birth was, I believe, the true caiise 
 why we first began to conspire against our sove- 
 reign ; then indeed it happened, when the Prince 
 of Orange seemed suddenly, though lawfully 
 deprived of his apparent inheritance, that press- 
 ing solicitations were forwarded to the Hague, 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 319 
 
 and ready promises given to them ; and I am 
 utterly surprised at you, Mr. Walker, to speak 
 of, as an imposition, a real event, that, during my 
 late short residence in London, has been fully 
 established, by the most open and direct testi- 
 mony, to the satisfaction of all honest men, and 
 the shame of those who, on such a question, 
 could cruelly insult the tenderest and most sa- 
 cred feelings of their sovereign." 
 
 " Well ; — it is only my business to quiet what 
 you consider conscientious scruples on another 
 subject. Before the matter spoken of, my Lord 
 Wharton—" 
 
 " A man in his dotage," observed Evelyn. 
 
 *•' The bishop of London — " 
 
 " Because under suspension." 
 
 " My lord of Devonshire — " 
 
 " Because he had been fined for striking Col. 
 Culpepper." 
 
 " The Lady Sunderland, a woman of subtle 
 wit and admirable address — '* 
 
 " And indebted, through her husband, for 
 her very title to King James — " 
 
 " With the bishops, and some others, first ad- 
 dressed the prince; but to them he only answer- 
 ed, that if invited by some of the best interest of 
 
S20 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 the land, he rather believed he could be ready 
 by the end of September." 
 
 " This, sir, was but caution." 
 
 " His next answer meets your scruples. Other 
 noblemen and gentlemen, such as the earls of 
 Danby and Shrewsbury, admirals Russel and 
 Herbert, Mr. Henry Sichey, James's own am- 
 bassador in Holland, having afterwards appear- 
 ed ; the prince answered, after sedate consi- 
 deration, that he must satisfy both his honor 
 and conscience before he could enter on so 
 great a design ; and protested that no private 
 ambition, nor particular resentment, could pre- 
 vail upon him to make a breach with so near a 
 relation ; therefore — he expected more formid- 
 able invitations." 
 
 " Admirable prudence ! — well he knew how 
 to drive a safe bargain with impatient customers j 
 and doubtless, sir, after the unlooked for birth 
 of a new heir, those more * formidable invita- 
 tions' came, and convinced him." 
 
 " Doubtless," answered Mr. Walker, " still 
 assisted by the great doctor's discourses with 
 the princess, and her discourses with the prince, 
 and all directed and prompted by a good and 
 merciful Providence." 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 321 
 
 " Then I am to give much credit, I suppose, 
 to WilHam's state assertions, Mr. Walker, when 
 I find him sending over his crafty Zuylesten 
 with congratulations to James on the birth of 
 the Prince of Wales, after yielding to the suit 
 of your friends, chiefly on the ground of that 
 birth being an imposition ; and when I also 
 know, and you cannot deny, that the real em- 
 bassy of Zuylesten was to collect information 
 for the prince's use — " 
 
 " Yes," interrupted Walker — " and that faith- 
 ful servant most assuredly brought back such 
 accounts as fixed the prince in his purpose. 
 All this is but the workings of prudence, and 
 does not impugn the truth of his declarations, 
 repeatedly made, that he has no object but to 
 redress the people ; no view of personal aggran- 
 dizement. Nay, by my last advices, this day 
 come to hand, the prince having already taken 
 leave of the States previous to embarkation — " 
 
 " Heavens !" cried Evelyn — " the tempest so 
 very near !" 
 
 " He," continued Walker, ^' in his very part- 
 ing address to them, solemnly takes God to wit- 
 ness that he comes to England with no other 
 P 3 
 
322 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 intentions than those set out in his declarations; 
 he does not know, indeed" — (referring to a let- 
 ter) — " how the Divine wisdom may dispose 
 him ; but to Providence he commits himself: 
 from all which you may reasonably conclude, 
 that by entering into an engagement to protect 
 your life and property against the exterminating 
 papists, you do not, at the same time, neces- 
 sarily form any present league against King 
 James. And now, good night ; let me take 
 your hand ; the hand of the son of my old 
 friend ; — farewell — and" — the clergyman added, 
 speaking earnestly but calmly — " touching the 
 other matter undecided betwixt us, I offer this 
 — I offer to attend your nuptials — to officiate in 
 them — for, protestant as you are, you will re- 
 quire the ministry of your own clergyman — 
 and to bless them, too, should there appear no 
 good reason why they shall be interrupted — 
 you permit me to attend ?" 
 
 " I invite you, sir, willingly and thankfully." 
 
 " And will warn me of the day and place, 
 punctually ?" 
 
 Evelyn promised. 
 
 "Farewell then;" and he at length left the 
 room. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 3^3 
 
 " And so," thought Evelyn, as he tried to 
 compose himself to sleep, " by rival priests and 
 churches militant, these countries are once more 
 to be convulsed to the centre ; there is Petre, the 
 Jesuit, at St. James's, and Burnet, the Jesuit, at 
 the Hague ; and after years of patient plotting 
 and prompting they have at last succeeded in 
 embroiling the whole world, just that some 
 good battles may be fought to decide which 
 shall be archbishop of Canterbury ; and there 
 is William, too, as good a Jesuit as either, I 
 promise them, though not in orders ; and lest 
 we should lack zeal to be made fools and mad- 
 men of, in Ireland, here we have an O'Hag- 
 gerty and a Walker; — the same farce, this 
 christian world over ; the same men to kindle 
 the same social, nay, domestic dissensions ; to 
 arm the child against the parent ; the true heart 
 against the true heart — Good God !" he added 
 with a sigh — " shall the world ever grow old 
 enough to limit priests to the inculcation of a 
 peace-making creed, and let honest men — nay, 
 even the knaves out of orders, mind their own 
 business, and fight their own quarrels ?" 
 
324 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 CHAPTER XIJ. 
 
 The young men met, next morning, with a mu- 
 tual consciousness, and some embarrassment, 
 growing out of the separate conversations be- 
 tween them and the two clergymen on the night 
 before. There was, too, for the first time, that 
 restraint in their manner towards one another, 
 which ever accompanies the retrenching of 
 confidence between old friends ; for Evelyn 
 and McDonnell had resolved not to impart, 
 at least till circumstances demanded it, the 
 political engagements both had bound them- 
 selves conditionally to perform. So Edmund 
 kept his commission quietly in his pocket, and 
 Evelyn as secretly kept the address from his 
 northern friends, with his o^vn assent attached 
 thereto, in his pocket, also; each thus prac- 
 tising a disingenuousness for which he could 
 readily find arguments to excuse himself, but 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. S25 
 
 of which he should have been much more than 
 jealous in the person of his friend. 
 
 At an early hour they mounted their horses, 
 and, with Oliver, left Carrickfergus. The 
 weather still continued stormy ; nor had they 
 ridden far northward, until a heavy shower 
 came on. All immediately called to mind the 
 absurd promise of the Rapparee, and Edmund 
 remarked — 
 
 " Here is the shower Rory-na-Choppel pro- 
 mised us, but where is the colt ?" 
 
 " Unless it rained horses, I have not much 
 opinion of that prophecy," said Evelyn, " but, 
 in the name of wonder, McDonnell, what 's the 
 matter with the colt you ride ?" 
 
 The rain continued to pour down so violently, 
 that men and beasts were completely drenched. 
 
 " Why, what can be the matter with him, 
 Evelyn? He keeps his temper and his paces 
 well." 
 
 " But look if he be not changing from black 
 to chestnut, as the water runs down his sides 
 and neck !" resumed Evelyn, *' and now a white 
 speck comes out on his breast, and a white star 
 on his forehead." 
 
326 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " Do they so ?" asked McDonnell, flinging 
 himself from the saddle ; then, after examining 
 the animal for a still more peculiar mark — " by 
 the blessed saints, the Rapparee hath promised 
 fair ! this is my own colt, Pawdrick." 
 
 The party looked at each other for a mo- 
 ment, and then burst into a loud laugh. 
 
 " His make struck me at the first glance," 
 continued Edmund, " but what honest man 
 could suspect the cheat, and he in this new 
 suit, and his tail cut short ? The rascal 
 Tory! — the hanged and unharmed rascal! — I 
 have purchased my own horse from one of his 
 receivers — I see it all now : and I have heard 
 of the very tricks before; one of the many 
 which it is well known the villain uses to baffle 
 immediate pursuit and detection: some bog- 
 weed, boiled, supplies him with this temporary 
 dying-stuff: but if I do not be even with him 
 yet — if I do not get his own face changed 
 black, and, under Providence, with more lasting 
 effect than his practices on my colt, or than the 
 gallows had on it, the last time, let him whisper 
 you away from GlenarrifF again, Pawdrick, and 
 turn you white, for novelty." 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. S27 
 
 " 'Tis an amusing villainy," said Evelyn. 
 " Yes, I grant you, to all but the twice- 
 cheated ; but come," Edmund added, vaulting 
 into his saddle, " let us for the present think of 
 it only for a jest; — home, Pawdrick, home! — 
 good deeds under your true colours ; Glen- 
 arifF's shelving sward, and knee-deep clover are 
 before you, and love and lady-smiles before 
 your master — move, truant, move !" and dash- 
 ing spurs into Pawdrick he led on the party at 
 a gallant rate. 
 
 We very blamefully omitted to mention, that, 
 on receipt of Evelyn's last pressing letter, Est- 
 her had been able to prevail on Eva to name a 
 day for making her brother happy : and that the 
 chief clause of Eva's compliance was a counter 
 concession exacted from Esther, with the help 
 of Edmund, then present, to do the same kind- 
 ness by her brother, also. 
 
 The day thus fixed upon for both cere- 
 monies, was one towards the middle of the 
 next month, November : about three weeks, al- 
 together, from the time of Edmund's departure 
 to meet his friend in Carrickfergus. Lord An- 
 trim's lady, the rather celebrated marchioness 
 
32S THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 of Buckingham, becoming necessarily a confi- 
 dant on the occasion, politely insisted that the 
 young ladies, each motherless as she was, should 
 accept of her matronage at their nuptials, and 
 also consent to have the double union take 
 place in Antrim castle. The old earl heartily 
 and courteously seconded this arrangement; the 
 maidens, much gratified, assented ; and prepa- 
 rations were forthwith commenced, on all sides, 
 to meet, with splendour, mirth, and honor, the 
 expected day. 
 
 The earl sent invitations to some of his feal 
 friends and neighbours, such as the Lord 
 Iveah, of Mourne, in the county of Down ; 
 O'Hagar, of the county of Londonderry ; and 
 O'Dogherty, of Inishowen; not careless, per- 
 haps, of thus creating an opportunity for get- 
 ting them together under his roof; but the first 
 invitation was necessarily sent to his cousin, 
 Randall M'Donnell, of GlenarrifF; to Daniel 
 McDonnell, of Layd ; and to several other 
 M'Donnells, all cousins, and near at hand. His 
 lady did not fail to take like measures for col- 
 lecting a goodly company of fair dames and 
 gentle damsels ; having first forwarded, at Est- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 329 
 
 her's instance, and inclosed in a dutiful letter of 
 Esther's own, a very kind and pressing request 
 for the presence of Mrs. Evelyn, of Derry 
 city. 
 
 Two suites of rooms were selected for the 
 two young couple, and workmen, the best that 
 could be had from Dublin, set to work at them 
 as soon as possible. The old chapel of the 
 castle was also taken in hand, with a view to 
 its being newly fitted up and adorned. Then, 
 rich varieties of material for bridal attire came 
 from the metropohs, at the order, long given, 
 of the bridegrooms ; and accomplished semp- 
 stresses, assisted by the tire-woman of the coun- 
 tess, and, as well as they knew how, by those 
 in attendance on the young ladies themselves, 
 fastened upon it with all despatch. 
 
 The maidens, too, occasionally sat down 
 among their women and their finery, and helped 
 to forward the adornments for their bridal day; 
 each, indeed, only kindly attending to the other's 
 dress. Or they strolled, arm in arm, about the 
 house, carefully avoiding that wing in which 
 the workmen were engaged ; or, when, half 
 venturous, they found themselves too near it, 
 
330 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 skipping, like startled fawns, from the sound of 
 a heavy footstep, or the sudden opening of a 
 door. At night, indeed, when the men had 
 retired, and that "the clink of hammer" no 
 longer kept their little hearts jumping and flut- 
 tering to every knock, they sometimes hazarded 
 a peep into those awful rooms, and, still arm in 
 arm, glided about them, on tiptoe, with a lamp 
 and faces held up, in timid inquiry, to every 
 new improvement that had just been completed, 
 or was in progress. They explored each other's 
 destined ante-room, sitting-room, nay, bridal 
 chamber; never having courage, however, to 
 bestow more than one glance at a time on the 
 progressive furnishing of that terrible apart- 
 ment. And thus they spent their time, morn- 
 ing, noon, and night, until the arrival of M'Don- 
 nell and Evelyn; speaking very little to each 
 other, but looking a great deal, and sighing the 
 quick, faint sighs that will every moment flutter 
 up, like birds, from young hearts choke-full of 
 happiness. Often, when their glances met, 
 tears sufflised their eyes, and they would gently 
 steal their arms around each other, and softly 
 press against each other; or, was it in the night- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 331 
 
 time, they might be seen, after placing their 
 lamp in a favorable point, half reclining, in 
 their light and snowy drapery, on a sofa, or a 
 pile of cushions, arms still entwined, eyes still 
 wandering about, or meeting, and a silence, too 
 delicious to be broken, still observed. 
 
 But, upon the morning of the arrival of their 
 lovers, they had, at length, a long conversation. 
 
 " I do not wonder to see you agitated, dear- 
 est sister," said Eva, *^ for I am so myself; nor 
 dejected either, were it only a little ; for I, too, 
 feel a strange inclination to weep, now and 
 then, I know not why or wherefore ; — but you 
 are more melancholy than the occasion calls 
 for ; distressed, I fear, with something else." 
 
 " With something else, indeed, dear Eva, — 
 yet something that has to do with the occasion." 
 
 " Your aunt's unnatural conduct, heretofore ? 
 — and your fears that she will not accept the 
 present invitation ?" 
 
 " No ; I must own I do not love my aunt 
 enough to afflict myself with her whims, tho', 
 doubtless, I should have felt less an orphan, 
 less abandoned, had she staid by my side, or 
 if she will now act by me as a mother." 
 
332 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " And I should, indeed, have recollected, 
 that you have before told me as much, and that 
 your deep thought, and melancholy, and secret 
 tears, which I so often surprise you in, must 
 have therefore come from another source. 
 What is that other?" 
 
 " Dear Eva, you must not ask me." 
 " No ?— then I shall not, Esther." 
 " Now I see you are offended with me, but 
 you should not be. I have been bound, under 
 terrible threats, never to disclose the cause of 
 my — my fears, my childish fears, after all ; for 
 every thing goes on so as to prove them vain ; 
 a very short time must decide all ; and, doubt- 
 less, decide for their eternal removal." 
 
 Eva paused a moment ; then looking at Est- 
 her — *' Onagh of the cavern has been frighten- 
 ing you," she said. 
 
 " Yes, yes '."—cried Esther, weeping plenti- 
 
 fully. 
 
 " Dear, weak Esther, can it be possible, that 
 after some years' advance in matured reason, 
 and after all our discourse about that woman, 
 you still suffer her to dwell a moment in your 
 thought?" 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 33S 
 
 " Oh, Eva, there is cause why I should." 
 
 " You mean the silly words she spoke to you 
 in the little glen ?" 
 
 " No — worse, much worse than that." 
 
 " You have seen her since, then ?" 
 
 " Alas, alas ! I have." 
 
 " Lately ? and where ?" 
 
 " Lately — but that was not the occasion that 
 distresses me, — dear Eva, ask me no more — I 
 dare not speak openly to you — long, long, the 
 horrid knowledge has been with me — long, 
 long, have I wished to tell you of it, and ask 
 your counsel, and listen to your disproving ar- 
 guments ; but I durst not." 
 
 " Has the wretched creature pledged you to 
 secrecy ?" 
 
 ** Not exactly so ; but her denouncement on 
 me if I divulged the secret, particularly to you, 
 are shocking." 
 
 Eva laughed. '' Come, come, dearest Est- 
 her, there is one on the road by this time shall 
 make a false prophet of Mrs. Onagh — you see 
 I can divine at least the nature of her mum- 
 mery : shame upon you, Esther, to admit, at a 
 womanly age, the existence of such weakness 
 
334 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 in your mind ; and shame again upon you in my 
 brother's name, to weigh the words of an im- 
 postor or a mad woman against his true love. 
 So, even without the tie of an extorted promise, 
 you will refuse me the opportunity to laugh at 
 this new conceit, whatever it is, merely because 
 the wise woman of CushindoU has threatened 
 to bewitch you, perhaps ? Be it so ; but were 
 I in your place, and you in mine, asking this fa- 
 vor, I would give her charms and her broom- 
 stick, and her familiar and her fiddlestick, to 
 the four winds of heaven, as so many feathers, 
 rather than let you sit one instant unanswered." 
 " I will take heart to tell you then— and I 
 am sure I ought, Eva, and that all is, as you 
 say, childishness; indeed, altho' it happened 
 before our removal from the seashore to Lough 
 Neagh, I was able of my own accord, by prayer, 
 and a calm survey of my mind, to almost forget 
 it, until yesternight, when the voice of Onagh 
 sounded at my chamber window, just as I lay 
 down in bed, whispering strangely — * The bri- 
 dal robe is nearly made — but so is the shroud, 
 tho' not so nearly — still, forget not All Saints' 
 eve, the last but one.' " 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 335 
 
 ** Foolish woman ! — she now grows too bold, 
 and I will surely request Edmund to see her 
 made more quiet ; — but you are certain she 
 was there at the window? It could not have 
 been a dream ? 
 
 *' I think not ; tho', heaven knows, often and 
 often have her face and figure made my sleep 
 horrible, Eva ; — oh, I have had her sitting on 
 my bed, at night, and on my breast, and others 
 with her, until the vision was worse than rea- 
 lity, and its continuance almost wore away my 
 heart!" 
 
 " That was your own fault, Esther; not 
 hers ; — but — ' still remember All Saints' eve,' 
 she said, or you dreamt she said — what could 
 she mean by that ? — let me see ; — All Saints' 
 eve, the last but one, you were too ill and fe- 
 verish to leave your room, and Onagh did not 
 surely approach the house." 
 
 " 111 and feverish I indeed was, Esther, and 
 on account, too, — added to my weak state, I 
 suppose, — of the story you told me of another 
 All Saints' eve: nor did Onagh come to the 
 house ; and yet I saw her." 
 
 " I cannot understand that." 
 
S36 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " Listen, then. I retired, as you say, to my 
 own room, because my mind and body were so 
 troubled I could not bear the company even of 
 those I loved so well; I retired to my room, 
 but did not keep my room." 
 
 "How, Esther!" 
 
 " Indeed, I think my mind must have failed 
 me altogether to do what I did ; it was unnatu- 
 ral courage, I am sure ; for never, before or 
 since, came a moment of my life equal to the at- 
 tempt, but that one ; and you may remember, I 
 was obliged to keep my bed, next day, and I 
 talked lightly, did I not ?" 
 
 " I indeed remember that you had then an 
 illness severe and alarming, though of short con- 
 tinuance. But go on. You left your room — 
 why ?" 
 
 " There I sat, Esther, alone in the shivering 
 moonlight, for I grew so strange, even to myself, 
 that I could not bear my lamp ; there I sat 
 alone, thinking of Onagh's prophecy, of all you 
 told me, and all I saw her do at the cavern, as 
 we passed her by, and what she said to me in 
 the little glen; and I was conscious too what 
 night it was ; an anniversary of the awful one 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 337 
 
 when, while I was such a distance away from 
 her, that terrible woman spanned my fortunes ; 
 and a recurrence of the night, happen when it 
 will, on which a knowledge of the future comes, 
 from good or evil, or for good or evil to the 
 earth ; these were my thoughts, then, and I 
 could not check them. I believe I did not even 
 strive to check them ; but, whether or no, they 
 took such possession of me, that, as I listened 
 to the boom of the sea, or to the whistling of 
 the wind through the trees at the back of the 
 house, I thought the sounds became voices, all 
 echoing what Onagh had told me ; and as I look- 
 ed out into the light and shadow of the moon, 
 upon the broad hills so near me, your brother's 
 figure, Eva, seemed, over and over, to flit by 
 my window, until at last I started up and could 
 have screamed — I know not why, for, strange to 
 say, it was not fear I felt. 
 
 " At last came a desperate thought. It broke 
 upon my distracted mind to seek Onagh that 
 very night in her cavern, and challenge her to 
 work me a charm. Scarce was this frenzy form- 
 ed, when, gliding through a back door, I found 
 myself, badly protected from the howling winds, 
 
 YOL. I, Q 
 
S38 THE BOYNE WATEl^. 
 
 on the road to her cavern. The distance, yoU 
 have told me, is about a mile. I know not how 
 soon or how long I might have been going ; but 
 I well remember rushing into the blank mouth 
 of her cavern-house, and, when at some distance 
 in its recesses, I saw a red light — stopping sud- 
 denly — 
 
 " * A hundred thousand welcomes,' I then 
 heard her say, the voice reaching me through 
 utter darkness, * we were expecting you — come 
 in.' Eva, still I was not frightened ; I did ad- 
 vance into the cave. 
 
 " And, gracious God ! what a sight there met 
 my eyes ! — Onagh's back was to me as I totter- 
 ed on ; and, the light glaring at her face, I could 
 perceive she sat on her heels, and stooped for- 
 ward her head and body, as if watching some- 
 thing on the ground. A turn in the cave, as I still 
 advanced, shewed me the figure of a very aged 
 and exceedingly small woman, sitting opposite 
 to her, and also bent, and looking downward; 
 at another step, my eye followed theirs, and fell 
 upon the corpse of a second crone, stretched 
 out upon the damp and earthen floor, one large 
 stone on her breast, another on her knees, and 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 339 
 
 a piece of flaming wood in her hand. Even yet, 
 Eva, I felt no terror ; I only wondered- 
 
 " * She 's waking hersef/ said Onagh, with a 
 laugh, and not raising her head to me. 
 
 " ' Who is she V I asked. 
 
 " * I know no more than you,' Onagh answer- 
 ed, rocking her bent body and head to and fro, 
 while her chin touched her knees, and her hands 
 were clasped across her legs ; ^ no ; nor no more 
 than the child unborn ; only, here I found her, 
 with the other, before you, this All Saints' eve 
 come seven years; and my time was just up 
 with them, and an hour to spare, when we 
 got her, stark and stiff, down in the end of 
 the place ; and crippled too ; though she lies 
 out so straight, there, with the help of the two 
 stones that keep her like a christian corpse. 
 Isn't that it, gran'-aunt?' again laughing, and 
 addressing the old woman opposite to her. * I 
 call her gran'-aunt, you see, and her that 's gone 
 I used to call granny, and no other names had I 
 for them; you don't know how I found them 
 out here — I'll tell you, then. The early blight 
 came on me, as early as it will come on yourself, 
 and I was restless, and didn't know what to do 
 Q 2 
 
340 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 when, one night, I found an apron, that had been 
 thieved from me long before, lying on the floor 
 as I got into bed; but it was all knotted and 
 twisted, and I guessed by what hands. I open- 
 ed one knot, and then another, and another; 
 and, for every one I opened, there came a face 
 round my bed, and at last the faces of the two 
 of this house. Next morning I left my mo- 
 ther's home, and met the first face I saw the 
 night before, and she led me a bit of the road ; 
 and then the next, and she gave me a second 
 help ; and so on, until, day and night, I walked 
 from the south to the north, and the last friend 
 parted me abroad at the open door you came in 
 by, and here I found the one that lies stretched 
 there, arid the other, before you, and a hearty 
 welcome from the both.' 
 
 "*Up, Onagh!' — I said, * and work me a 
 charm ; — a true one ; — a sure one ; — one that will 
 make me sure for ever of what you have told me.' 
 
 " * Go with her, gran'-aunt,' she said, ' farther 
 up, into the dark ; take this rape-seed,' giving 
 me some — ' repeat after me the words you will 
 hear me say, and drop the rape-seed as you re- 
 peat them ; that will do ; for I can't leave the 
 corpse 'till the cock crows.' 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 341 
 
 " The aged pigmy got on her feet — in height 
 she was not more than a child — and hobbled 
 into the dark recesses of the cave, I following 
 her. When we had almost entirely proceeded 
 beyond the influence of the Hght, she stopt, 
 and Onagh screamed out, far behind us — * Are 
 ye there V 
 
 " * Say the words,' answered my companion : 
 and Onagh repeated, as well as I can recollect, 
 the following lines : — 
 
 ' Rape-seed I sow, rape-seed I sow, 
 Come from above, or come from below. 
 Come far, come near, 
 
 Shevr me my sweet-heart, shew me my dear — 
 Shew him as he will be to me, 
 A blessing, or a misery.' 
 
 " Eva — I know I was disturbed in mind — I 
 know, too, that just as I had ended my repeti- 
 tion of the lines, I grew afraid for the first time 
 — and all this might have deceived me— but, 
 be that as it may, never in my life before did the 
 face and figure of Edmund pass plainer before 
 me, than — even in the dark, at that horrible 
 moment — ^but his face was pale and his figure 
 wasted — and after he passed, there was another 
 
34^2 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 motion in the dark, as if he would cross the 
 cavern again ; but when I again looked, my eyes 
 met— instead of him— Death, Eva, Death '."— 
 
 " What do you mean ?" asked Eva. 
 
 " Death, I say ! — the grinning head and the 
 skeleton frame of Death ! — and it wore, on the 
 front, a bridal chaplet." 
 
 " Absurdity, dearest girl ! — you have, your- 
 self, fully accounted for the mockery — and why 
 should I argue with you ? — the previous state 
 of your mind — your diseased body — your ter- 
 rors — your prejudices — every thing joined to 
 distract and impose upon you." 
 
 " That may be — nay, I am sure it was so— 
 but so real and so dreadful was the impression 
 of the moment, that I screamed and swooned 
 away. When I revived, I found myself in the 
 open air, within sight of our cottage, Onagh 
 standing over me-^I screamed, again, when I 
 saw her ; and — 
 
 " * Now,' she said, * you look as if you were 
 satisfied ; and be so ; — for never can he wive 
 with you.' 
 
 " * Why must this be !' I cried, wildly — ' and 
 why should you, terrible woman, be his fate 
 etnd mine V 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 343 
 
 " * Hearken to me/ she replied, looking less 
 inane, and more intelligent and stern than I 
 had before seen her — ' I have doomed him — 
 and others too— on earth and in heaven — never 
 to taste the sweets of a woman's love ; was there 
 no doom in it, he should not ; — I, alone, a wo- 
 man, and a weak and friendless one, would hin- 
 der him.' 
 
 " * Wherefore V I still asked, fiercely, I be- 
 lieve. 
 
 " * — Nor if he had twenty brothers should 
 one of them escape the same fortune,' she con- 
 tinued, * he had one brother who did escape 
 it — but he is gone.' " 
 
 " Ha !" Eva said, startled, but not enough 
 affected, in appearance, to attract Esther's no- 
 tice, who continued. 
 
 ". * Yonder,' Onagh added, * is your happy 
 house; speed to it, and have your time of hap- 
 piness' — then all at once relapsing into her 
 usual manner, she added, slowly, * If you betray 
 what I have last said, to him or his sister, such 
 faces shall watch your sleeping — such curses 
 shall attend your pilgrimage on earth, as will 
 make you dearly rue the treachery — the bless- 
 
344 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 ing of this good All Saints' night be with you'— 
 and she left me. I returned home and secretly 
 gained my sleeping chamber." 
 
 " Well?" said Eva, quite recovered from her 
 own late agitation, as she smiled and looked at 
 Esther, as if to hear more — " well, pretty sis- 
 ter, and is this all ? — tut, tut ; the woman either 
 is knave enough to frighten you for the purpose 
 of extorting money, or fool enough for any 
 piece of nonsense ; and this is really the terrible 
 secret that has weighed you down so long, and 
 the terrible prophecy that is to turn your true- 
 love sweets into bitterness ? — Come, come ; — I 
 know a man can cure these pretty fancies ; and, 
 Esther, in some half score years, after a certain 
 day of the coming month, I shall know a some- 
 thing of a matron lady, who, with half a dozen 
 young McDonnells around her, will join me in 
 laughing at them." 
 
 " Fie, Eva McDonnell," said Esther, smiling 
 as if she wholly forgot her terrors, and blushing, 
 too, as if there were any shame or scandal in 
 the prospect her friend held out to her, or even 
 in the steps to be taken for attaining it. 
 
 " By the way, Esther," Eva continued, wish- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 345 
 
 ing to keep as clear as possible of the old topic 
 — " will you let me ask you a strange, and yet, 
 perchance, not an improper question ?" 
 
 " It cannot be improper from Eva — ask it :" 
 
 Eva took the leave granted, and their con- 
 versation continued on a subject much more 
 likely to influence Esther's future happiness 
 than could the extravagant one they had just 
 ended : though as Eva premised, it had rather 
 a strange opening. 
 
 " I do not know how to begin, Esther," said 
 Eva, in her turn, blushing deeply — "but we 
 are to become wives, you know ; and wives be- 
 come mothers ; and so, when we shall be such, 
 if, indeed, the blessing of God attends our 
 change of estate — in that case, have you ever 
 thought how you should arrange the question 
 of religious difference between yourself and Ed- 
 mund ?" 
 
 " How do you mean ?" Esther asked, not 
 looking off the floor. 
 
 " In what creed should you wish your chil- 
 dren to be brought up ? that 's the plain ques- 
 tion." 
 
 " In my own, to be sure, Eva," said Esther, 
 Q 3 
 
346 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 very naturally expressing the first idea she had 
 ever formed on the subject. 
 
 *' Well, I cannot blame you ; but you must 
 recollect that your husband will have a wish, 
 too." 
 
 " And so he will, indeed," she said, a httle 
 embarrassed. 
 
 " Here, then, is a difference at once ; the dif- 
 ference I supposed all along ; have you ever 
 thought of any way of getting over it ?" 
 
 " I know of none, unless" — she paused. 
 
 " Unless Edmund yields to your wish, ira- 
 pHcitly ?" 
 
 « Yes, indeed, Eva." 
 
 " Suppose he should entertain the same hopes 
 of your good nature and liberality ?" 
 
 " Then I shall be truly at a loss what to do ; 
 but, indeed, Eva, I could never bear to see a 
 child of mine go to the mass-house." 
 
 " Esther ! you forget you speak to me," said 
 Eva, a little coldly and haughtily. 
 
 " I did, perhaps, forget, that in speaking to 
 you, I addressed a Roman Catholic," resumed 
 Esther, piqued on the only point in which she 
 was susceptible ; " yet I have but honestly ex- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 347 
 
 pressed what I feel, Eva, though the manner 
 was unguarded and abrupt." 
 
 " The mass-house is not the pest-house, 
 Esther, to require being mentioned so abhor- 
 ringly ; nor need the religion of your betrothed 
 husband call for such contempt at your hands." 
 " After all, Eva, I wish he was of my own re- 
 ligion." 
 
 " Do you make it an objection to your union 
 with him?" Eva inquired, very pointedly. 
 
 " Do you mean to threaten me by that ques- 
 tion, and particularly by that look, Eva ?" 
 
 " Esther Evelyn, I am above meanness of 
 any kind ; least of all, the meanness of influenc- 
 ing by threat a free will; this only I have to 
 say; that if your brother held to me, on my 
 own account, the language you here speak of 
 my brother, I would — sincerely and dearly as I 
 love him — tear him at once from my heart, and 
 try to forget him for ever." 
 
 " And I, Eva M'Donnell, can easily inter- 
 pret what you say, as it applies to the present 
 case, and perhaps have my own independent 
 notions on the matter. But you have asked 
 me questions all along ; allow me a few, in 
 turn ; — you, too, are about to be wedded to a 
 
348 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 man who differs from you in religion ; what is 
 your own resolve — I know you have formed one 
 — to meet the strange case you were pleased to 
 suppose for me ?" 
 
 " I answer, honorably; this is my resolve; I 
 would strive, by all means in my power, and, of 
 course, only by all permitted to a maiden of 
 gentle blood — to bring my husband's mind to 
 look so toleratingly — I will say, justly— on the 
 tenets and spirit of my holy faith, that he should 
 feel — under the permission of Providence— no 
 such horror, as you have expressed, in allowing 
 me the religious guidance of my children." 
 
 " That is to say, you would strive to — to con- 
 vert him," said Esther, suppressing a phrase 
 she knew would be offensive, and using one she 
 also knew Eva preferred. 
 
 " And if I did, it were but my duty," replied 
 Eva. 
 
 " Indeed !" cried Esther ; *' this is new in- 
 formation, Eva M'Donnell ;" then after a pause 
 — " I take it as granted you now speak the ge- 
 neral sentiments of all of your persuasion ; and 
 if so, what am I to expect in a situation where 
 authority can enforce zeal ?" 
 
 " Again I warn you, Esther, that unless you 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 349 
 
 mean by these reflections, to object to a union 
 with Edmund McDonnell, they are uselessly — 
 idly said ; the avowals I make^ are, indeed, ra- 
 ther new between us; and perhaps for a reason. 
 When we met first, the times were tranquil ; 
 the enemies of my rehgion seemed willing to al- 
 low it rest, and to tolerate it, at least, in the in- 
 terchanges of society ; now the spirit of exclu- 
 sion — nay, of extermination, is busy again ; we 
 are again marked out and proscribed ; and, it 
 may be, I was disposed, under such a change, 
 to ascertain the prospect of domestic happiness 
 to be hoped for by my brother, in the tone of 
 mind; on religious subjects, entertained by his 
 affianced lady." 
 
 " And I, too, mayhap," said Esther, " felt 
 inclined to look for some Hghts on this subject, 
 when I knew — as I know now — that my reli- 
 gion, and not yours, was, and is that marked 
 out for destruction, in the coming tumult which 
 threatens us all." 
 
 " Bigotry," said Miss M'Donnell. 
 
 " And bigotry, too," said Miss Evelyn, ^' to 
 accuse the creed I profess — and that Robert 
 Evelyn also professes— of any cruel intentions. 
 
350 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 —nay, of any unfair disturbing of domestic 
 happiness. Let your own religion, Eva, teach 
 you to forget the submission of a wife ; mine 
 shall never teach me the same doctrine.'* 
 
 " Yet, this moment, you wished Edmund a 
 protestant ?" 
 
 " And wish it still." 
 
 " Then would you not strive to gain your 
 wish?" 
 
 " By all fair and christian means, assuredly." 
 
 " What !" cried Eva, alarmed in her turn, 
 " try to change him ? My brother ought to 
 know this." 
 
 " Tell him, then ; only let me have the same 
 freedom to speak to my brother." 
 
 " Take it," said Eva, rising. A hunting horn 
 sounded cheerily at a distance, calling out the 
 echoes of the surrounding hills — " and here," 
 she continued, running to a window that com- 
 manded, for more than the distance of a mile, 
 the road that swept down the mountain to 
 Glenarm castle ; " here both should be, to give 
 us timely opportunity ; that was Edmund's 
 wonted signal of approach homeward ; and 
 yonder, indeed, four horsemen spur down the 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. SSI 
 
 hill-road, two of them much a-head of the 
 others." 
 
 " My brother! my dear brother!" exclaimed 
 Esther, gaining the window, also, and clasping 
 her hands ; " and Edmund — dear, dear Ed- 
 mund !" the last words escaped her heart, in 
 despite of the pettishness of the previous mo- 
 ment ; and, " oh, Eva" — giving vent to the 
 master feeling thus betrayed—" he is my only 
 life, after all !" — They embraced. 
 
 " And think you, Esther, I behold, without 
 a swelling-up of woman's utmost tenderness, 
 the return, after such an absence, of Robert 
 Erelyn ? — We have been but idly vexing each 
 other ;" they kissed, as sisters do, " and come 
 then, an answer to their signal." 
 
 She opened the window; both stood at it, 
 and waved their white kerchiefs, over and over, 
 on the breeze. 
 
 " They see us !" resumed Eva, " they dofF 
 their hats, and wave them high in retiu-n ! Let 
 us, dear Esther, end the former simple matter, 
 while they approach ; neither of us will use un- 
 fair means of persuasion to affect the mode of 
 faith of our husbands ; both, meantime, are free 
 
252 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 to introduce, in season, plain statements of our 
 own creed, and arguments why we prefer it; 
 and both will also surely listen, calm and un- 
 prejudiced, to reasons that may be given us in 
 reply." 
 
 " That were but honorable and rational," said 
 Esther ; the young ladies thus easily agreeing, 
 because they mutually thought, that according 
 to the plan proposed, they could as easily have 
 every thing their own way. 
 
 " And as to the question of offspring, Es- 
 ther, — beshrew it for a strange one — do you 
 know how some sensible persons have done in 
 a like case ?" 
 
 " No, Eva ; but let me hear — and speedily ;" 
 her eyes darted through the window, as she 
 still waved her kerchief. 
 
 " Supposing, under the will of God — girls," 
 rejoined Eva, " the mother had care of them ; 
 and supposing — boys, the father." / 
 
 " That is excellent ;" said Esther, her looks 
 and occupation still unchanged — " yes ; let them 
 have their boys, and we can have our girls." 
 
 " Now, shame on us both, Esther," resumed 
 Eva, again joining her friend with her kerchief; 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 353 
 
 " and heaven pardon us such unmaidenly cal- 
 culations, and such presumption on the will of 
 Providence — fie ! to add the s to the words." 
 
 " It was bold and wicked, indeed," said Es- 
 ther. 
 
 The horsemen had now come so near, at a 
 gallop, and a dangerous one too, down-hill, as 
 to be fully recognizable ; then were salutations 
 renewed with more energy ; as they gained the 
 outskirts of the little hamlet of Glenarm, a 
 dozen bag-pipers, heading a newly-raised com- 
 pany of men, screamed out the welcome of Ed- 
 mund M'Donnell, and of the betrothed hus- 
 band of Eva McDonnell ; the men joined their 
 shout to the clamour ; the travellers darted by 
 them ; passed through the hamlet ; gained the 
 drawbridge of Glenarm castle, which was over 
 a rapid mountain stream, instead of an artificial 
 fosse ; it was lowered ; the hollow trampling of 
 their horses sounded on it, as the ladies lost 
 sight of them ; then the clattering of hoofs was 
 heard in the yard ; and at last they rushed into 
 the saloon occupied by their betrothed maidens. 
 It was, in one respect, a strange meeting. Bro- 
 thers and sisters looked first at each other ; 
 
354 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 then lovers and their beloved ; and there was a 
 second's hesitation as to how they were all to 
 commence greetings ; but Edmund ended it by 
 catching Esther in his arms, and in the next 
 instant leading her to Evelyn, who, notwith- 
 standing his long absence, did not shew much 
 disappointment, at being obliged to disengage 
 himself from another lady, and present her to 
 her brother also, ere he could embrace his own 
 orphan sister. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 355 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 " And whither do you go to-day, McDonnell V 
 asked Evelyn of his friend, about a week after 
 his return. 
 
 " To GlenarriflP," answered Edmund. 
 
 " You have gone thither very often, of late." 
 
 " Not oftener, surely, than my preparations 
 for an approaching event require." 
 
 " What event do you mean ?" 
 
 " You should surely think I mean but one — 
 my marriage with your sister." They parted. 
 
 Evelyn's brow fell. He had, as his questions 
 imported, been jealous of Edmund's visits to 
 GlenarrifF; and an accident helped to confirm 
 and inflame this jealousy. In his friend's ab- 
 sence, he joined, a few days before, a party of 
 huntsmen from Antrim castle : the hunt was a 
 long one; It led them as far as the spacious 
 valley in which Edmund's house stood ; Evelyn 
 
S56 
 
 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 rode unperceived to the brow of the chain of 
 hills that commanded it ; and below him, on the 
 level ground at the side of the river, he recog- 
 nized Edmund at the head of a body of men, 
 all armed, as if engaged in putting them through 
 some military exercise. This seemed done in 
 secrecy ; but it might not be so ; M'Donnell 
 might merely have forgotten to give him his con- 
 fidence ; Evelyn determined to see ; and there- 
 fore put the question to which he now felt he 
 had received an insincere reply. 
 
 He was indignant with Edmund ; but he did 
 not perceive that some portion of the discontent 
 that agitated him ought to have been visited on 
 himself: or perhaps he really felt a self-reproach, 
 but unconsciously added it to the weight of his 
 actual jealousy of his young friend. Nor could 
 he distinguish that much of Edmund's altera- 
 tion of manner — for there was an alteration — 
 sprung from a similar jealousy, on his part, of 
 Evelyn, for which a certain circumstance gave 
 cause. 
 
 A few evenings before, Evelyn received in 
 his company a letter which seemed to agitate 
 him as he read it. Glancing inadvertently at 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 357 
 
 it, McDonnell saw his own name more than 
 once written by this unknown correspondent. 
 Evelyn put up the letter gravely, and liis spirits 
 ahd manner were chilled for the rest of the 
 evening. Edmund took an opportunity of ask- 
 ing, in jest, if the epistle contained any slander 
 of him. His friend started, and stared at him ; 
 and then deUberately added that it did not even 
 mention his name. 
 
 It was from Walker, in answer to one Evelyn 
 had written, according to engagement, to in- 
 form that gentleman of the day and place ap- 
 pointed for his marriage. Renewing promises 
 to attend, it proceeded to acquaint him of the 
 fact of William having embarked for England ; 
 of the veteran army and noble suite that accom- 
 panied him ; of the certainty of a popish plot 
 to massacre all the protestants in Ireland, early 
 in December ; with the still more appalling in- 
 telligence that Edmund M'Donnell was pledged 
 to take a conspicuous part in it. 
 
 By the same hand came a letter from Mrs. 
 Evelyn to Esther, rather uncourteously de- 
 chning the invitation to grace and bless her 
 nuptials, and filled with repetitions of the cer- 
 
358 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 tain intelligence of a general massacre, in which, 
 according to Mrs. Evelyn also, young M'Don- 
 nell, and his old rebel father, were to do hor- 
 rid things. This epistle terrified and afflicted 
 Esther, more than any former effort of her 
 aunt; Eva, surprising her in tears, got the lettet 
 to read : and out blazed Eva, and away she 
 swept to place the insulting document before 
 her betrothed lord ; not in reproach, indeed, 
 but fully anticipating his equal wrath and de- 
 testation of the writer. When Evelyn under- 
 stood the case, however, she was startled, and 
 shocked by a coldness of observation upon it, 
 which she could not have expected, and which 
 kindled up new and battling sensations in her 
 bosom ; and back she swept again to Esther, 
 returned the letter, and retired to her own 
 chamber. 
 
 It was now known to all, that the prince of 
 Orange had embarked from Holland with a fair 
 vnnd ; but about the time when he might be ex- 
 pected to land, the fair wind changed into a 
 foul one ; storms arose ; despatches from Eng- 
 land to Ireland were, by the same changes, ob- 
 structed, and every one paused in silence to 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 359 
 
 await the final event. Evelyn found himself 
 particularly obliged to suspend all remark ; and 
 this increased his discontent and jealousy. No 
 one spoke to him on the matter, and he would 
 speak to no one ; but he saw, with bitter feel- 
 ings, the Earl of Antrim, Lord Iveah, and other 
 guests, — who, anticipating the marriage, seemed 
 rather to have visited Antrim castle for diffe- 
 rent purposes than to witness it — get together, 
 with Edmund, in knots, and whisper and look 
 beyond all patience. 
 
 But though this state of feeling, amongst the 
 parties most interested, might seem a bad omen 
 of their happy union, yet it did not interfere 
 with the determinations of all to get married on 
 the day appointed. Love scenes, continually 
 occurring, in the mean time, predominated over 
 every other sentiment ; and in fact and truth, 
 as mutual distrust had not assumed any certain 
 shape, the young people wished, with their 
 hearts and souls, for the tenth day of No- 
 vember. 
 
 And in its own good time, and just as regu- 
 larly and as slowly as if they had cared nothing 
 about it, the day came at last. It was as black, 
 
360 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 and as stormy, and as comfortless too, as if it 
 could have made up its mind to treat them and 
 their raptures with surly contempt. But, not- 
 withstanding its seeming disapproval, all else 
 was brilliant in readiness and attendance upon 
 the happy young people. In vain did it send its 
 ruffian blasts to course round the battlements 
 of the old building, shake its old casements, or 
 even bluster down its old chimneys ; within, 
 every voice spoke, or tried to speak, in softest 
 accents ; groups of ladies, young and beautiful, 
 only stood at the windows to wonder at its vio- 
 lence ; and men, brave and noble, warmed them- 
 selves at the blazing hearth it could not extin- 
 guish. 
 
 At mid-day, the guests were, indeed, all met 
 in the grand withdrawing-room of Antrim cas- 
 tle. The bridegrooms, conscious and simper- 
 ing, and trying not to be either, sat, from time 
 to time, with the different sets of ladies who 
 had come to witness and envy their happiness ; 
 or ventured among the veteran group of their 
 own sex who surrounded Lord Antrim, to hear, 
 and suffer as they might, all that good humour 
 and experience could apply to their case, and 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 361 
 
 lavish at their expense. The brides were in 
 their chambers, with their bridemaids, await- 
 ing, in unimaginable palpitations, a summons 
 from the lady of the mansion ; who, dividing 
 herself among her guests, gUded from party 
 to party, with sparkling eyes, and dimpled 
 mouth, saying, in half whispers, such pretty and 
 appropriate things, as set many a young lady 
 at her best to look grave, while others only 
 blushed, and some laughed, as they ought to do. 
 The hour was come ; every thing was ready; 
 and every person, too, in attendance, except 
 one. The Reverend George Walker had not 
 yet arrived ; and as, under the circumstances of 
 the parties, his agency was required to make 
 the ceremonies, even after the ministry of the 
 catholic priest, most satisfactory to all; and 
 particularly as all had expected him; nothing 
 could be entered upon without him. A dis- 
 agreeable pause, therefore, occurred ; unre- 
 lieved by the former willingness to wait ; and — 
 as there could be no doubt of the gentleman's 
 arrival, although past his time — -not even made 
 interesting by the calculations on a disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 
362 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 Hour after hour thus wore away ; the black 
 and tempestuous November night closed in, 
 even prematurely for the time of the year ; 
 lights were ordered for the apartment ; and still 
 Mr. Walker came not. It was past, much past 
 dinner-hour, too; a banquet, prepared with 
 munificence on the part of the noble hosts, and 
 with great care and labour on the part of his 
 culinary servants, was spoiling ; and while the 
 lower regions of the castle were in open mu- 
 tiny, this consideration, joined with others, made 
 even the noble hostess impatient. 
 
 As the lights were brought into the room, a 
 horseman passed the drawbridge. 
 
 " 'Tis he !" cried Edmund, " I know his 
 dark cloak." 
 
 Every one bustled ; a loud knocking rever- 
 berated through the castle ; the doors were 
 flung open ; and Friar O'Haggerty entered the 
 apartment. 
 
 " I give you joy, my lord of Antrim," he ex- 
 claimed, the moment he appeared at the door, 
 and speaking rapidly, and with much excite- 
 ment, as he walked up the room — " and you, 
 my lord of Iveagh, and you, gentlemen, and, 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. S6S 
 
 Edmund McDonnell, you ; the joy I ask you to 
 give me, for my tidings ; — the invader's fleet 
 has been beat back by the winds of heaven from 
 the shores of England, and obliged to return to 
 Holland, in such a plight, as ends all rebellious 
 hopes for the present." 
 
 " Long live King James 1" cried Lord An- 
 trim ; his friends echoed him ; even the ladies 
 joined in the cheer. *' But is the news cer- 
 tain?" 
 
 " Here are my letters — received but this 
 morning, tho' they should have come to hand 
 many days ago; I need not add from whom 
 they are — but you may depend on them." 
 
 " The wind is papist, at last," said the gaunt 
 and grim Lord of Iveah. 
 
 " His majesty's very words," resumed the 
 friar, " the moment he heard the news in Eng- 
 land." 
 
 " And I may now go home and dismiss my 
 shaggy Mourne mountaineers," added Iveah. 
 
 *' Have a care of that, my lord," said the 
 
 friar ; " the king is still resolved on his former 
 
 point of privilege ; and before my advices left 
 
 England, had proved his resolution by his acts. 
 
 R 2 
 
364 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 In order to some shew of prudence, when the 
 intentions of the invader were first made cer- 
 tain, his majesty caused to be posted on the 
 gates of Magdalen college, a declaration of his 
 withdrawing of the righteous Farmer, whom he 
 had forced them to accept, as fellow, in place of 
 their own elected minion. Hough ; but no sooner 
 came to him the happy news of this providen- 
 tial wreck, than, guided by his good advisers, 
 he had it torn down again — " 
 
 " Accurst be his advisers, sir !" interrupted 
 Edmund M'Donnell, who, upon O'Haggerty's 
 first announcement of a hope of peace, had 
 taken Evelyn's hand to congratulate him, and 
 receive his congratulations; and both young 
 men exchanged a hearty shake, until the friar's 
 additional news made them pause to listen, and 
 finally produced Edmund's vehement maledic- 
 tion. 
 
 " Amen," echoed Lord Iveah, " we do not 
 ask such counsels." 
 
 " Do not curse them, whoever they are," said 
 Lord Antrim ; " just call them bad politicians.'* 
 
 The friar's face reddened, and he was about 
 to make an angry rejoinder, when the Mar- 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 365 
 
 chioness of Buckingham, entering with an offi- 
 cial air at the door, pressed her finger on her 
 lip, in passing him, and walking up to Evelyn, 
 took him aside. 
 
 " The brides," she said, smiHng, " do not want 
 this reverend truant, Mr. Walker; I have just 
 visited them ; and though I bear you no mes- 
 sage or greeting, I will be your warrant that, at 
 my summons, they speedily meet you in the 
 chapel, where old Priest M'Donnell has been 
 shivering these many hours." 
 
 " Then, dear lady, the round world for your 
 summons ! — since the reverend gentleman has 
 not been able to keep his word, another time 
 must yield us what satisfaction he can bestow." 
 
 " To the chapel, dames, maidens, and gal- 
 lants, all !"' cried the lady, instantly turning 
 from him to the company, and much delighted, 
 for many reasons. Then she once more bustled 
 gracefully oiit of the apartment ; and bride- 
 grooms and guests, led by Lord Antrim, troop- 
 ed down to the chapel. 
 
 It was a low building, detached from the cas- 
 tle, but accessible, at both sides, near the altar, 
 by doors which were approached, under cover- 
 R 3 
 
366 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 ed ways, communicating with the main pile. 
 Through one of these doors, the numerous 
 party from the withdrawing-room entered, a 
 minute after ; and, just at the same time, the 
 brides, led by their hostess, and attended by their 
 bridemaids, and some superfluous friends, ap- 
 peared at the opposite door. The chapel, bril- 
 liantly illuminated by large, hanging branches ; 
 newly fitted up ; and ornamented, near the 
 altar, by festoonings of virgin white, and gar- 
 lands of mimic flowers, had a character at once 
 joyous and holy. On the altar itself were six 
 tall wax tapers, three at a side, that lent ad- 
 ditional lustre to the important and sacred place 
 where vows were about to be exchanged, bless- 
 ings said, and prayers oflPered up for the earthly 
 and eternal weal of four young and newly 
 wedded people. Its steps, and the platform 
 they gained, were covered by a crimson foot- 
 cloth, edged with gold; and on the platform 
 sat old Priest McDonnell, wearing his priest's 
 undress, if it may so be called — namely, the 
 surphce, stole, and alb. His book was on his 
 knee ; and he rose, convulsed with palsy, as the 
 company entered his consecrated house. 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 367 
 
 The only thing that interfered with the so- 
 lemn and quiet nature of the place, and of the 
 ceremonies to be solemnized in it, was the con- 
 tinued, and, indeed, increased violence of the 
 weather. It blew a very hurricane ; and the 
 rain beat with such force upon the roof, and 
 against the windows of the solitary little chapel, 
 as filled its interior with unintermitted and al- 
 most alarming sound. Through the low win- 
 dows, nearly on a level with the ground, abroad, 
 the night seemed raven-black. 
 
 Scarce had the brides appeared at the door 
 opposite that through which the bridegrooms 
 and their party entered, when Evelyn, attended 
 by Edmund McDonnell as his brideman, and 
 by the old Earl of Antrim, to " give him away," 
 advanced to Eva, took her hand, and led her, 
 amid her group of beautiful bridemaids, and 
 while the earl's lady held her other hand, to- 
 wards the altar. All entered the railed sanc- 
 tuary ; ascended the steps of the altar ; stood 
 on the platform ; and, in a few moments, Evelyn 
 and Eva M'Donnell— according to the forms of 
 the Roman Catholic church — were married. 
 
 In their turn, Edmund, his brideman, and 
 
368 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 his old father, advanced to Esther. He took, 
 in his, a cold and shivering hand, and the veil 
 she wore did not hide her raining tears, nor 
 her blanched cheek and ashy lips. Gently, 
 gracefully, and proudly, he led her to the rail- 
 ings of the sanctuary ; she stumbled, and had 
 nearly fallen, in the effort to step the single 
 step that elevated it above the floor of the 
 chapel. As she passed close by a side-window, 
 just at the altar, she started — sprung from it, 
 and uttered a low scream. Edmund looked at 
 the window ; it was black and blank, and no 
 cause appeared for Esther's terror, though now 
 she shuddered so violently as almost to swoon 
 away. Assisted by her lover, her noble hostess, 
 and her frightened bridemaids, Esther gained, 
 at length, the platform of the altar. The white- 
 headed and palsied old priest again opened his 
 book, and began the second marriage cere- 
 mony ; a clattering of horse-hoofs was heard 
 without, and he paused. In a moment after, a 
 small door, at the remote end of the huilding, 
 through which the peasantry around used to 
 enter to mass, was flung open, giving egress to 
 a gust of storm so furious, that it extinguished 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 nearly all the lights in the chapel ; and with it 
 came in a man, enveloped in an ample riding- 
 cloak, who walked straight up the aisle to the 
 altar, holding an open letter in his hand. As 
 he gained the altar, all recognized the Rev. 
 George Walker. 
 
 " You are late, Mr. Walker," said Evelyn, 
 who now stood outside the rails. 
 
 " Am I too late ?" asked Walker, eagerly. 
 
 " I present you Mrs. Evelyn, sir." 
 
 " There has been a clergyman of the esta- 
 bhshed church, here ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; you know we expected but you." 
 
 " All is right, then," said Walker ; " it is no 
 marriage." 
 
 " Insolent !" said Lord Antrim ; — " proceed 
 in the ceremony, father M'Donnell ;" — just then 
 a servant hastily entered the side door, and ap- 
 proached his lord with a packet, 
 
 " Let him," resumed Walker ; " but, first," 
 holding out the open letter — " let all try the 
 eflfect of this — William, the Deliverer, has 
 
 LANDED !" 
 
 The whole company, including those on the 
 altar, and even the old priest with his book, 
 started. 
 
370 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 " It is false !" cried the friar. 
 
 " By the holy saints, it is true I" exclaimed 
 Antrim— "the usurper landed at Torbay on 
 the 5th. You were late with your first news, 
 reverend friar ; and though you make mysteries 
 of your own despatches — read that," handing 
 him the paper he had himself just perused : — 
 " here, fellow" — to the servant who was retiring 
 — " let my people know this intelligence in- 
 stantly — despatch horse and man around — care 
 not for the night — and the signals — the beacons ! 
 — fire that on the castle's top, that on the bay's 
 edge, and that on the brow of Little Deer-Park 
 — let them tell it to Ballygelly Head and the 
 Point of Garron — and they to the Fair-Head 
 and Bengore — and round let it flame to old 
 Dunluce — so that, by the morning's dawn, all 
 true men may be stirring for their true king 
 and master ! — Meantime on with the ceremony, 
 here — though brides and bridegrooms are like 
 to have a flaming nuptial- torch." 
 
 " Proceed, father M'Donnell," said Edmund. 
 
 " Come down, Edmund M'Donnell," cried 
 O'Haggerty — " dishonor not your name and 
 blood — insult not your holy religion, now in 
 peril — endanger not your life, by taking to your 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 371 
 
 bosom the stranger, the traitoress, and the he- 
 retic — come down from the ahar, I say — think 
 only of the cause, which, by virtue of the royal 
 commission you hold — " 
 
 " What, Edmund !" — interrupted Evelyn — 
 " what does this mean ?" 
 
 " It means," said Eva, " that my brother is 
 a commissioned officer in the service of his 
 king." 
 
 " It means," said Walker, " that, as I told 
 you, Evelyn, he is one of those traitors to pro- 
 testant ascendancy, in church and state, com- 
 missioned and sworn to cut your throat, and 
 mine : even let him come down, as his old coun- 
 sellor advises, and call you your sister, at the 
 same time" — 
 
 " Eva !" resumed Evelyn, in much agitation 
 — " knew you of such a secret engagement ?" 
 
 " I did," she answered—" and if I did ?" 
 
 "This is disingenuousness — treachery!" — 
 he exclaimed. " I am betrayed, even at the 
 altar." 
 
 " Treachery !— betrayed, Evelyn !" — Eva re- 
 peated, letting go his arm, and stepping back. 
 
 " You are," said Walker, catching his arm— 
 
372 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 '* even as I foretold it would be ; — rouse your- 
 self, like a man and a christian, and at last act 
 as becomes you; — Robert Evelyn," he conti- 
 nued, in a loud and impressive voice — " I com- 
 mand you, in the name of your church, and of 
 him who is come as your king, to rescue your 
 father's daughter from the pollution of a traitor's 
 arms, and lead her, after me, from this idola* 
 trous roof ! — Think of the pledge you have 
 given to me and to your country — the pledge 
 that is registered against you, and that you hold 
 in your keeping — " 
 
 " What pledge does he mean ?" asked Eva. 
 
 " One, which makes him a soldier of the 
 faith, and arms him with a sword against all 
 papists," replied Walker. 
 
 " One destined to be reddened in our blood," 
 said O'Haggerty. 
 
 " What, Evelyn !"— Eva went on— "you talk 
 of, as treacherous, the accepting and holding a 
 lawful commission from a lawful sovereign, and 
 you enter into an unauthorized contract with 
 the deadly foes of that sovereign, and of us all 
 — a contract of God knows what nature — 
 hither, Edmund, hither !" 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 373 
 
 " This adds insult to injury— descend, Est- 
 her Evelyn, and stand by me," he exclaimed. 
 
 " Sister, obey your brother's voice !" cried 
 Walker; "and—" 
 
 " Let go her hand, and come down !" echoed 
 the friar. 
 
 " Scandalous men !" said the old priest, from 
 the altar, " interrupt not the conferring of a sa- 
 crament — tear not asunder those whom God is 
 about to make one— ^peace, and let the marriage 
 be done." 
 
 " Nay," resumed Eva, still addressing Eve- 
 lyn, after a most agitated pause — " if thus you 
 proceed, sir — if your own voice be raised to 
 cancel the engagements of my brother with 
 your sister — if here, at the altar, you call us 
 traitors and betrayers — never shall she or you 
 have cause to repeat the words elsewhere." 
 
 " How !" cried Edmund, who had at last de- 
 scended, leaving Esther supported by her brides- 
 maids — " traitors and betrayers ! — who dares 
 speak the words ?" 
 
 " Dares ! — I spoke them," answered Evelyn, 
 
 "Betrayer and traitor, you!" rejoined Ed- 
 mund — " you, as it at last appears, a secret 
 
 VOL. I. s 
 
374 THE BOYNE WATER. 
 
 plotter against your king, and against the very 
 friends who would take you to their bosom !" — 
 
 Evelyn sprung to the altar, and seized his 
 sister's cold hand- — '' I forbid this marriage !" 
 he said. 
 
 " And I," said Eva, " renounce the former 
 one— your own priest, there, has told you it is 
 invahd— think it so — and farewell, Evelyn, for 
 ever ! — Brother, your hand." 
 
 " Be that as it may — let us stand how we 
 may stand to each other — this lady shall never 
 be his bride !" — Evelyn went on, assisting Est- 
 her down the steps. 
 
 ** Never !" — repeated a screaming, discordant 
 voice at the side window, accompanied by loud 
 and frantic clapping of hands ; — Esther looked 
 askance, and fell in the arms of her brother. 
 A glare of red light broke through all the 
 windows into the chapel, the late extinguish- 
 ing of its own tapers having left it in sufficient 
 gloom to favor the effect ; and as the roaring 
 of the beacon blaze, abroad, mingled with the 
 beating of the heavy rain, and the continued 
 howhng of the hurricane, Onagh's shrill screams, 
 and the wild clapping of her hands, might be 
 
THE BOYNE WATER. 375 
 
 heard above every other horrid sound, while 
 her pallid face appeared, now at one window, 
 now at another, and her " never ! — never !" — 
 rising above the roof of the chapel, seemed 
 to be a tongue of the tempest. 
 
 In a few moments after, Evelyn and Walker, 
 bearing between them, even through the fury 
 of such a night, the insensible Esther, left An- 
 trim castle, to seek an independent shelter in 
 the adjacent hamlet of Glenarm. 
 
 END OF VOL. 
 
 J. M'Creery.Tooks Court, 
 Chautery Lane, London. 
 
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