up to us, who, one and all, expressed the
utmost indignation at what had happened. Once more our hopes revived. If
Mr. O'Brien could avoid arrest for a few weeks only, we expected that a
sense of shame would sting the country to desperate exertion.

After night-fall we descended, and slept at a farmer's house at the
southern base of the mountain, where we were most kindly entertained and
sedulously guarded. We there heard of the Ballingarry disaster. Next
morning we once more ascended Slievenamon, where we endeavoured to
dissipate the heavy hours and the still heavier consciousness at our own
hearts by firing at a mark. The day suddenly darkened, and we had to
seek shelter under rocks from a pitiless mountain shower. We had
dispatched a messenger to O'Mahony to demand an interview that evening;
and, after he had returned, we were invited to partake of some new
potatoes (then beginning to exhibit the blight), milk, eggs and butter.
I remember lying down in a bed, and getting so feverish that I believed
my doom was sealed. My noble young friend sat at my bedside, with a
rifle and two pistols, prepared to defend my rest with his life. The
illness was, however, but trifling and temporary, and the necessity of
acting enabled me at once to shake it off. After nightfall, we proceeded
to the appointed interview. We travelled in a common car, accompanied by
four others, all armed. Our haunt was a poor cabin on the roadside, near
a place called Moloch, in the neighbourhood of Carrick. There I bid my
faithful young friend good night, but was doomed not to see him
afterwards. Mr. O'Mahony and myself slept on some straw, but we had
scarcely closed our eyes when we learned that the cabin was surrounded
by the military and police. We were apprised of our perilous position
just in time to escape: this we effected, after a struggle, aided by
extreme darkness. We spent the remainder of the night in a field, where
I slept very soundly. At break of day we retired to a farmer's house
near the Suir, where, after partaking of some refreshments, we went to
bed, and slept, one or two hours. The breakfast scene of that morning is
not easily forgotten. Perhaps there is no place in the world where a
more substantial breakfast can be produced than at a comfortable Irish
farmer's. On this occasion the silent, watchful, anxious grace of our
young hostess, in her attentions, enhanced the flavour of the repast. It
is only by those who have partaken of