member of his family, or voraciously devoured it himself. Even here, amongst these houseless and friendless peoplenone, we would add, of the ferocious garrison of the windmill prison, but rather some poor wanderers from a burned cabin, recently come in-even amongst these, surrounded by sights of horror, and stifling their hunger in this almost savage manner, national characteristics were not beaten down. The laugh was frequent as the cook made some droll remark upon the novelty of his occupation or the excellence of the fare, the words deriving half their import from his tone and manner as he perhaps said-" Well! it's nate mate, considerin' Orange sheep; "-or "By gonnies! Orange is the Croppy's friend, an' who 'll deny it?"-holding the broiled flesh high on his pike:-" Sure it 's no other than a friend 'ud feed fat sheep for a body;-open your mouths an' shet your eyes. Now boys an' girls-the biggest mouth 'ill have this undher the teeth, I'm thinkin'." And they gaped and laughed loud, as, with a grave face, the examiner went round to decide on the comparative width of each yawning cavern.

There were carousing groups too, sending illicit whisky or other more legal liquor from hand to hand; and the beverage did not fail of its enlivening effect. And leaders appeared, with green ribbons or perhaps a military sash around their persons, or epaulettes on their shoulders, torn from officers they had slain. These were busy inspecting different bands of insurgents as they practiced their pike exercise, now driving forward the weapon at a given object, now darting it over their shoulders as if to meet a foe from behind, now adroitly grasping it at either end with both hands, and bringing into play the elastic staff, as with great dexterity they whirled it round their persons to keep off an attack in front. Through all arose loud vociferations, each directing the other, according as he arrived, or fancied he had arrived, at greater proficiency than his neighbor.

Sir William's attention was at length riveted upon the particular throng who, variously occupied, surrounded the narrow entrance to the old tower. With furious action and accents the clamorous crowd here hustled together, and a first glance told that their present occupation brought into energy all the ferociousness of their nature.

Some of them who were on horseback waved their arms, and endeavored to raise their voices over the din of those around, who, however, vociferated too ardently to listen to their words. While all looked on at the slaughter committed by a line of pikemen drawn up before the tower, whose weapons were but freed from one victim to be plunged into another, it was not merely a shout of triumph but the more deadly yell of glutted vengeance or malignity, which, drowning the cry of agony that preceded it, burst with little intermission from all.

Two sentinels armed with muskets guarded the low and narrow entrances to the temporary prison, and grimly did they scowl on the crowded captives pent up within its walls. Another man, gaunt and robust in stature, having a horseman's sword buckled awkwardly at his hip, a green ribbon tied round his foxy felt hat, the crimson sash of a slain militia officer knotted round his loins, two large pistols thrust into it, and a formidable pike in his hand, rushed from time to time into the tower, dragged forth some poor victim, and put him to a short examination. Then, unless something were urged in favor of the destined sufferer sufficient to snatch him from the frightful fate numbers had already met, he flung him to his executioners. And this man, so furious, so savage, and so remorseless, was Shawn-a-Gow.

Armed also with a musket, and stationed between the line of pikemen and the door of the tower in order that he might be the first agent of vengeance, stood the ill-favored scoundrel we have mentioned in a former chapter-the murderous Murtoch Kane, late a "stable-boy" at the inn of Enniscorthy. As he leveled at his victim, proud of the privilege of anticipating his brother-executioners, the ruffian's brow ever curled into the murderer's scowl.

The hasty interrogatories proposed to each cringing captive by Shawn-a-Gow midway between the tower and the pikemen had exclusive reference to the religious creed of the party. The acknowledgment of Protestantism, deemed synonymous with Orangeism, at once proclaimed, or rather was assumed as proclaiming, a deadly enemy, meriting instant vengeance. Yet in this the rabble insurgents of Vinegar Hill acted with a curious inconsistency. Many Protestants held command in the main force of which they called

themselves adherents; nay, the individual selected by unanimous choice as "commander-in-chief" was of the established religion of the state. But why pause to point out any departure from principle in the persons of such men as are before us? Were their deeds to be justly visited on the more courageous as well as more numerous bodies of the insurgents, we might indeed occupy ourselves with the question.

Panting and nearly fainting, Sir William Judkin gained the tower, and ere he could address a question to those around, stood still to recover his breath. Two prisoners were dragged forth by the relentless Shawn-a-Gow.

"Are you a Christian?" he demanded, glaring into the face of one trembling wretch as he grasped him by the collar.

"I am, Jack Delouchery," he was answered.

"Are you a right Christian?"

66 I am a Protestant."

"Ay-the Orange."

"No, not an Orangeman."

"Now, hould silence, you dog! every mother's son o' ye is Orange to the backbone. Is there any one here to say a word for this Orangeman?"

There was an instant's silence, during which the pale terror-stricken man gazed beseechingly upon every dark and ominous face around him. But the cry "Pay him his reckonin'" soon sealed the victim's doom. With a fierce bellow, the words, "Ay, we'll weed the land o' ye-we 'll have only one way; we 'll do to every murtherer o' ye what ye'd do to us!"-was the furious sentence of the smith as he pitched him forward. Murtoch Kane shot, and a dozen pikes did the rest.

The smith seized the second man. One of the lookers-on started forward, claimed him as a friend, and told some true or feigned story of his interference previous to the insurrection between Orange outrage and its victims. He was flung to his patron by Shawn-a-Gow with the carelessness of one who presided over life and death; the same savage action tossing the all but dead man into life which had hurled the previous sufferer into eternity.

Sir William Judkin, as the smith again strode to the door of the prison, came forward, with the question ready

to burst from his chapped and parched lips, when the man whose name he would have mentioned, already in the gripe of Shawn, was dragged forth into view.

The baronet stepped back, his manner changed from its fiery impetuosity. He now felt no impulse to bound upon a prey escaping from his hands. In the Gow's iron grasp, and in the midst of a concourse of sworn enemies, the devoted Talbot stood closely secured. Either to indulge the new sensation of revenge at last gratified, or compose himself to a purpose that required system in its execution, Sir William stood motionless, darting from beneath his black brows arrowy glances upon his rival, his breathing, which recently had been the pant of anxiety, altered into the longdrawn respiration of resolve.

Captain Talbot appeared despoiled of his military jacket, his helmet, his sash, and all the other tempting appendages of warlike uniform, which long ago had been distributed amongst the rabble commanders of "the camp." No man can naturally meet death with a smile: it is affectation even in the hero that assumes it; it is bravado on other lips to hide a quailing heart. And Captain Talbot, whatever might have been the strength and the secrets of his heart, as he instinctively shrank from the rude arm of Shawn-aGow, was pale and trembling, and his glance was that of dread.

Hopeless of mercy, he spoke no word, used no remonstrance; it was unavailing. Before him bristled the red pikes of his ruthless executioners; behind him stood Murtoch Kane, cocking his musket. The grasp that dragged him along told at once the determination and the strength of the infuriated giant.

"There's a dozen o' ye, I'm sure!" sneered Shawn: "I'll stand out to spake for Sir Thomas Hartley's hangman." The tone of bitter, savage mockery in which he spoke grated at Talbot's ear, as, first grinning into his prisoner's face, he glanced in fierce triumph over the crowd.

"A good pitch to him, Capt'n Delouchery," cried one of the executioners; "don't keep us waitin'; we're dhry and hungry for him." A general murmur of execration followed, and an impatient shout at the delay of vengeance. "My undeserved death will be avenged, murderers as

you are," cried the pallid Captain Talbot, in accents distinct through desperation.

Shawn-a-Gow held him at arm's-length, and with an expression of mixed ferocity and amazement again stared into his face.

"An' you're callin' us murtherers, are you?" he said, after a moment's pause-" Boys, bould Croppy boys, d' ye hear him? Tell me, ar'n't you the man that stood by the gallows' foot, wid the candle in your hand, waitin' till the last gasp was sent out o' the lips o' him who often opened his door to you, and often sat atin' and dhrinkin' wid you, under his own roof? Ar'n't you, Talbot, that man?" No answer came from the accused.

"You don't say No to me. Ay! becase you can't! Yet you call murtherers on us. Are you here, Pat Murphy?" he roared.

"I'm here," replied the man who had before raised the first cry for instant vengeance.

"Do you know anything good this caller of names done to you?"

"It was him an' his yeomen hung the only born brother o' me."

"D'ye hear that, you murtherer? D'ye hear that, an’ have you the bouldness in you to spake to us?—I'll tell you, you Orange skibbeah! we 'll keep you up for the last. Ay, by the sowl o' my son! we 'll keep you for the very last, till you 're half dead wid the fear, an' till we 'll have time to pay you in the way I'd glory to see, or-Come here, Murphy! Come out here-stand close-you ought to be first. Take your time wid him! Keep him feeling it as long as a poor Croppy 'ud feel the rope, when they let him down only to pull him up again.

The man stepped forward as he was ordered. Shawn-aGow swung the struggling Captain Talbot around. With his instinctive avoidance of a terrible death the prisoner grasped with the disengaged hand the brawny arm that held him, and, being a young man of strength, clung to it in desperation-in desperation without hope. But although he was young and strong and desperate, he opposed the sinew of a Hercules. The smith, with his single arm, dashed him backwards and forwards, until maddened by Talbot's continued clinging and his agile recovery of his