ght the direction of Goring's eye, caught its meaning,
and threw himself in the way. The colonel snatched a heavy hammer
which stood against the wall. With the suddenness of an electric flash
he struck Sylvester on the shoulder, broke his collar-bone, and hurled
him back senseless, doubled over the anvil. A second stroke, catching
the bar in the middle, shattered it in two, and the door hung upon the
latch. Morty and Connell, neither of whom had intended foul play,
hesitated, and in another moment Goring would have been free and away.
Connell, recovering himself, sprang forward and closed with him. The
colonel, who had been the most accomplished wrestler of his regiment,
whirled him round, flung him with a heavy fall on the floor, and had
his hand on the latch when, half stunned as he was, Connell recovered
his feet, drew a skene, and rushed at Colonel Goring again. So sudden
it all was, so swift the struggle, and so dim the light, that from the
other end it was hard to see what was happening. Wrenching the skene
out of Connell's hands, and with the hot spirit of battle in him,
Colonel Goring was on the point of driving it into his assailant's
side.

"Shoot, Morty! shoot, or I am a dead man!" Connell cried.

Morty, startled and uncertain what to do, had mechanically snatched up
a pistol when Sylvester was struck down. He raised his hand at
Connell's cry. It shook from excitement, and locked together as the
two figures were, he was as likely to hit friend as foe. Again Connell
called, and Morty fired and missed; and the mark of the bullet is
still shown in the wall of the smithy as a sacred reminiscence of a
fight for Irish liberty. The second shot went true to its mark.
Connell had been beaten down, though unwounded, and Goring's tall form
stood out above him in clear view. This time Morty's hand did not fail
him. A shiver passed through Goring's limbs. His arms dropped. He
staggered back against the door, and the door yielded, and he fell
upon the ground outside. But it was not to rise and fly. The ball had
struck him clean above the ear, and buried itself in the brain. He was
dead.

SCIENTIFIC METHOD APPLIED TO HISTORY

From 'Short Studies on Great Subjects'

Historical facts can only be verified by the skeptical and the
inquiring, and skepticism and inquiry nip like a black frost the eager
credulity in which legendary biographies took their rise. You can
watch such stories as they grew in the congenial