the floor, 'Because they want them redressed!'"

Salemina and I went to call on Mr. Jordan the very next day after our
arrival at Knockcool. Over the sitting-room or library door at Sarsfield
Cottage is a coat of arms with the motto of the Jordans, 'Percussus
surgam'; and as our friend is descended from Richard Jordan of Knock,
who died on the scaffold at Claremorris in the memorable year 1798, I
find that he is related to me, for one of the De Exeter Jordans married
Penelope O'Connor, daughter of the king of Connaught. He took her
to wife, too, when the espousal of anything Irish, names, language,
apparel, customs, or daughters, was high treason, and meant instant
confiscation of estates. I never thought of mentioning the relationship,
for obviously a family cannot hold grievances for hundreds of years and
bequeath a sense of humour at the same time.

The name Jordan is derived, it appears, from a noble ancestor who was
banner-bearer in the Crusades and who distinguished himself in many
battles, but particularly in one fought against the infidels on the
banks of the River Jordan in the Holy Land. In this conflict he was
felled to the ground three times during the day, but owing to his
gigantic strength, his great valour, and the number of the Saracens
prostrated by his sword, he succeeded in escaping death and keeping
the banner of the Cross hoisted; hence by way of eminence he was called
Jordan; and the motto of this illustrious family ever since has been,
'Though I fall I rise.'

Mr. Jordan's wife has been long dead, but he has four sons, only one of
them, Napper Tandy, living at home. Theobald Wolfe Tone is practising
law in Dublin; Hamilton Rowan is a physician in Cork; and Daniel
O'Connell, commonly called 'Lib' (a delicate reference to the
Liberator), is still a lad at Trinity. It is a great pity that Mr.
Jordan could not have had a larger family, that he might have kept fresh
in the national heart the names of a few more patriots; for his library
walls, 'where Memory sits by the altar she has raised to Woe,' are hung
with engravings and prints of celebrated insurgents, rebels, agitators,
demagogues, denunciators, conspirators,--pictures of anybody, in a word,
who ever struck a blow, right or wrong, well or ill judged, for the
green isle. That gallant Jacobite, Patrick Sarsfield, Burke, Grattan,
Flood, and Robert Emmet stand shoulder to shoulder with three Fenian
gentlemen, names Allan, Larkin, and O'Brien, kno