he military said:

"Mr. Reilly, one word with you: I feel that you have saved our lives;
I may requite you for that, generous act yet;" and he pressed his hand
warmly as he spoke, after which they proceeded on their way.

That the person of Reilly was not recognized by any of these men is
accounted for by a well-known custom, peculiar to such meetings, both
then and now. The individuals before and around him were all strangers,
from distant parts of the country; for whenever an outrage is to be
committed, or a nocturnal drilling to take place, the peasantry start
across the country, in twos and threes, until they quietly reach some
lonely and remote spot, where their persons are not known.

No sooner had he mentioned his name, however, than there arose a
peculiar murmur among the insurgents--such a murmur indeed as it was
difficult to understand; there was also a rapid consultation in Irish,
which was closed by a general determination to restrain their vengeance
for that night, at least, and for the sake of the celebrated young
martyr--for as such they looked upon him--to allow the military to pass
on without injury. Reilly then addressed them in Irish, and thanked
them, both in his own name and that of the priest, for the respect
evinced by, their observation of the advice they had given them. The
priest also addressed them in Irish, aware, as he was, that one sentence
in that language, especially from a person in a superior rank of
life, carries more weight than a whole oration in the language of the
Sassenagh. The poor old man's mind was once more at ease, and after
these rough, but not intractable, men had given three cheers for "bould
Willy Reilly," three more for the _Cooleen Bawn_, not forgetting the
priest, the latter, while returning thanks, had them in convulsions of
laughter. "May I never do harm," proceeded his reverence humorously,
"but the first Christian duty that every true Catholic ought to learn is
to whistle on his fingers. The moment ever your children, boys, are able
to give a squall, clap their forefinger and thumb in their mouth, and
leave the rest to nature. Let them talk of their spinnet and sinnet,
their fiddle and their diddle, their dancing and their prancing, but
there is no genteel accomplishment able to be compared to a rousing
whistle on the fingers. See what it did for us to-night. My soul to
glory, but only for it, Mr. Reilly and I would have soon taken a journey
with our heels foremo