o my old craft, which had carried me so often, and not me only but my
little lady whom it seemed I was never to see more, was upset and turned
adrift, to carry, for all I knew, the message of my fate to any whom it
might concern.

It was almost dark already, and by the direction my captors rowed I
concluded I was to be taken, not to Rathmullan, but to a landing-place
nearer the lough mouth. They cruised about till it was quite dark, and
then put in for a point called Carrahlagh, some miles south of my old
home on Fanad. Here my feet were loosed and I was ordered to march with
my company inland. The man with the gun walked by my side. The others,
who as we went along were joined by some half-score of confederates at
various points, who all gave a watchword on joining, talked among
themselves eagerly.

Presently we came to a hill--one I knew well--and here the stragglers
began to muster in larger numbers, till as we came to the hollow basin
below the top I counted nearly fifty. A few of them I recognised as old
gossips of my father's, but for the most part they were strangers who
seemed to have come from a distance.

About ten of the number carried guns, the rest were all armed with
either clubs or sticks, while one or two carried rude pikes.

I noticed that one of my captors, not he who guarded me, was looked up
to as the leader of the gathering; and when by common consent a circle
was formed, and sentinels posted, one on either side of the hollow, it
was he who stepped forward and spoke.

If he was an Irishman, his voice did not betray him. Indeed, he spoke
more like an Englishman, with a touch of the foreigner at the tip of his
tongue.

The first part of his speech was about matters I little understood--
about some Bill before the Irish Parliament at Dublin, and the efforts
of the friends of the people to defeat it. Then he went on to talk of
the great events taking place in Paris:--How the whole people were up in
arms for liberty; how the king there had been beheaded, and the streets
were flowing with the blood of the friends of tyranny. From end to end
of France the flag of freedom was floating. Was Ireland to be the only
country of slaves in Europe? She had a tyrant worse than any of whom
France had rid herself. The English yoke was the one secret of the
misery and troubles of Ireland, and so on. "Boys!" cried he, "the
soldiers of liberty are looking at you. They're calling on you to join
hands.