Читать книгу Personal Sketches of His Own Times, Vol. 1 (of 3) - Jonah Barrington - Страница 2

My great-aunt, Elizabeth – Besieged in her castle of Moret – My uncle seized and hanged before the walls – Attempted abduction of Elizabeth, whose forces surprise the castle of Reuben – Severe battle.

A great-aunt of mine, Elizabeth Fitzgerald, was married to Stephen Fitzgerald, who possessed the castle of Moret, near Bally-Brittis, not very far from Cullenagh.6 She and her husband held their castle firmly during the troubles. They had above forty good warders; their local enemies had no cannon, and but few guns. The warders, protected by the battlements, pelted their adversaries with large stones, when they ventured to approach the walls; and in front of each of that description of castle, there was a hole perpendicularly over the entrance, wherefrom any person, himself unseen, could drop down every species of defensive material upon assailants.

About the year 1690, when Ireland was in a state of great disorder, and no laws were regarded, numerous factious bodies were formed in every part of the country to claim old rights, and re-take possession of forfeited estates, by mere force, when their factions were strong enough.

My uncle and aunt, or rather my aunt and uncle (for she was said to be far the most effective of the two), at one time suffered the enemy, who were of the faction of the O’Cahils of Timagho, and who claimed my uncle’s property, (which they said – very truly – Queen Elizabeth had turned them out of,) to approach the gate in the night-time. There were neither outworks nor wet fosse; the assailants therefore, counting upon victory, brought fire to consume the gate, and so gain admittance. My aunt, aware of their designs, drew all her warders to one spot, large heaps of great stones being ready to their hands at the top of the castle.

When the O’Cahils, in great numbers, had got close to the gate, and were directly under the loop-hole, on a sudden streams of boiling water, heated in the castle coppers, came showering down upon the heads of the crowd below: this extinguished their fire, and cruelly scalded many of the besiegers.

The scene may be conceived which was presented by a multitude of scalded wretches, on a dark night, under the power and within the reach of all sorts of offensive missiles. They attempted to fly; but whilst one part of the warders hurled volleys of weighty stones beyond them, to deter them from retreating, another party dropped stones more ponderous still on the heads of those who, for protection, crouched close under the castle-walls: the lady of the castle herself, meantime, and all her maids, assisting the chief body of the warders in pelting the Jacobites with every kind of destructive missile, till all seemed pretty still; and wherever a groan was heard, a volley of stones quickly ended the troubles of the sufferer.

The old traditionists of the country say, that at day-break there were lying one hundred of the assailants under the castle-walls – some scalded, some battered to pieces, and many lamed so as to have no power of moving off; but my good aunt kindly ordered them all to be put out of their misery, as fast as ropes and a long gallows, erected for their sakes, could perform that piece of humanity: – her faithful old partizan, Keeran Karry, always telling them how sorry the lady was that she had no doctor in the castle, she being so tender-hearted that she could not bear to hear their groaning under the castle-walls, and so had them hanged out of pure good-nature.

After the victory, the warders had a feast on the castle-top, whereat each of them recounted his own feats. Squire Fitzgerald, who was a quiet easy man, and hated fighting, and who had told my aunt, at the beginning, that they would surely kill him, having seated himself all night peaceably under one of the parapets, was quite delighted when the fray was over. He walked out into his garden outside the walls to take some tranquil air, when an ambuscade of the hostile survivors surrounded and carried him off. In vain his warders sallied – the squire was gone past all redemption!

It was supposed he had paid his debts to Nature – if any he owed – when, next day, a large body of the O’Cahil faction appeared near the castle. Their force was too great to be attacked by the warders, who durst not sally; and the former assault had been too calamitous to the O’Cahils to warrant them in attempting another. Both were therefore standing at bay, when, to the great joy of the garrison, Squire Fitzgerald was produced, and one of the assailants, with a white cloth on a pike, advanced to parley.

The lady on the castle-top attended his proposals, which were very laconic. “I am a truce, lady! – Look here, (showing the terrified squire) we have your husband in hault – yee’s have yeer castle sure enough. Now we’ll change, if you please: we’ll render the squire, and you’ll render the keep; and if yees won’t do that same, the squire will be throttled before your two eyes in half an hour.”

“Flag of truce!” said the heroine, with due dignity and without hesitation; “mark the words of Elizabeth Fitzgerald, of Moret Castle: they may serve for your own wife upon some future occasion. – Flag of truce! I won’t render my keep, and I’ll tell you why: Elizabeth Fitzgerald may get another husband, but Elizabeth Fitzgerald may never get another castle; so I’ll keep what I have; and if you don’t get off faster than your legs can readily carry you, my warders will try which is hardest, your skull or a stone bullet.”

The O’Cahils kept their word, and old Squire Stephen Fitzgerald, in a short time, was seen dangling and performing various evolutions in the air, to the great amusement of the Jacobites, the mortification of the warders, and chagrin (which however was not without a spice of consolation) of my great-aunt, Elizabeth.

This magnanimous lady, after Squire Stephen had been duly cut down, waked, and deposited in his garden, conceived that she might enjoy her castle with tranquillity; but, to guard against every chance, she replenished her stony magazine; had a wide trench dug before the gate of the castle; and pit-falls, covered with green sods, having sharp stakes driven within, scattered round it on every side – the passage through these being only known to the faithful warders. She contrived, besides, a species of defence that I have not seen mentioned in the Pacata Hibernia, or any of the murderous annals of Ireland: it consisted of a heavy beam of wood, well loaded with iron at the bottom, and suspended by a pulley and cord from the top of the castle, and which, on any future assault, she could let down through the projecting hole over the entrance; – alternately, with the aid of a few strong warders above, raising and letting it drop smash among the enemy who attempted to gain admittance below, – thereby pounding them as if with a pestle and mortar, without the power of resistance on their part.

The castle-vaults were well victualled, and at all events could safely defy any attacks of hunger; and as the enemy had none of those despotic engines called cannon, my aunt’s garrison were at all points in tolerable security. Indeed, fortunately for Elizabeth, there was not a single piece of ordnance in the country, except those few which were mounted in the Fort of Dunrally, or travelled with the king’s army; and, to speak truth, fire-arms then would have been of little use, since there was not sufficient gunpowder among all the people to hold an hour’s fighting.

With these and some interior defences, Elizabeth imagined herself well armed against all marauders, and quietly awaited a change of times and a period of general security.

Close to the castle there was, and I believe still remains, a shallow swamp and a dribbling stream of water, in which there is a stone with a deep indenture on the top. It was about three feet high – very like a short joint of one of the pillars of the Giant’s Causeway. This stone was always full of limpid water, called St. Bridget’s water, – that holy woman having been accustomed daily to kneel in prayer on one knee, till she wore a hole in the top of the granite by the cap of her pious joint. She then filled it with water, and vanished from that country. It took the saint a full month, however, to bore the hole to her satisfaction.

To this well, old Jug Ogie, the oldest piece of furniture in Moret Castle, (she was an hereditary cook,) daily went for the purpose of drawing the most sacred crystal she could, wherewith to boil her mistress’s dinner; and also, as the well was naturally consecrated, it saved the priest a quantity of trouble in preparing holy water for the use of the warders. It was then also found to boil vastly quicker, and ten times hotter, than any common water, with a very small modicum of any kind of fuel. But the tradition ran that it would not boil at all for a year and a day after Madam Elizabeth died. It was believed, also, that a cow was poisoned, which had the presumption to drink some of it, as a just judgment for a beast attempting to turn Christian.

On one of these sallies of old Jug, some fellows (who, as it afterward appeared, had with a very deep design lain in ambush) seized and were carrying her off, when they were perceived by one of the watchmen from the tower, who instantly gave an alarm, and some warders sallied after them. Jug was rescued, and the enemy fled through the swamp; but not before one of them had his head divided into two equal parts by the hatchet of Keeran Karry, who was always at the head of the warders, and the life and soul of the whole garrison.

The dead man turned out to be a son of Andrew M‘Mahon, a faction-man of Reuben; but nobody could then guess the motive for endeavouring to carry off old Jug, the most ancient hag in that country. However, the matter soon became developed.

Elizabeth was accounted to be very rich, – the cleverest woman of her day, – and she had a large demesne into the bargain: and finding the sweets of independence, she refused matrimonial offers from many quarters; but as her castle was, for those days, a durably safe residence, such as the auctioneers of the present time would denominate a genuine undeniable mansion, the country squires determined she should marry one of them, since marry willingly she would not – but they nearly fell to loggerheads who should run away with her. Almost every one of them had previously put the question to her by flag of truce, as they all stood in too much awe of the lady to do it personally: till at length, teased by their importunities, she gave notice of her fixed intention to hang the next flag of truce who brought any such impudent proposals of marriage.

Upon this information, it was finally agreed to decide by lot, at a full meeting of her suitors, who should be the hero to surprise and carry off Elizabeth by force, which was considered a matter of danger on account of the warders, who would receive no other commandant, were well fed, and very ferocious.

Elizabeth got wind of their design and place of meeting, which was to be in the old castle of Reuben, near Athy. Eleven or twelve of the squires privately attended at the appointed hour, and it was determined, that whoever should be the lucky winner was to receive the aid and assistance of the others in bearing away the prize, and gaining her hand. To this effect, a league offensive and defensive was entered into between them – one part of which went to destroy Elizabeth’s warders root and branch; and to forward their object, it was desirable, if possible, to procure some inmate of the castle, who, by fair or foul means, might be induced to inform them of the best mode of entry: this caused the attempt to carry off old Jug Ogie.

However, they were not long in want of a spy; for Elizabeth, hearing of their plan from the gossoon7 of Reuben (a nephew of Jug’s), determined to take advantage of it. “My lady,” said Jug Ogie, “pretend to turn me adrift in a dark night, and give out that my gossoon here was found robbing you – they’ll soon get wind of it, and I’ll be the very person the squires want – and then you’ll hear all.”

The matter was agreed on, and old Jug Ogie and the gossoon were turned out, as thieves, to the great surprise of the warders and the country. But Jug was found and hired, as she expected; and soon comfortably seated in the kitchen at Castle Reuben, with the gossoon, whom she took in as kitchen-boy. She gave her tongue its full fling, – told a hundred stories about her “devil of a mistress,” – and undertook to inform the squires of the best way to get to her apartment.

Elizabeth was now sure to learn every thing so soon as determined on. The faction had arranged all matters for the capture: – the night of its execution approached: the old cook prepared a good supper for the quality: – the squires arrived, and the gossoon had to run only three miles to give the lady the intelligence. Twelve cavaliers attended, each accompanied by one of the ablest of his faction – for they were all afraid of each other, whenever the wine should rise upwards; and they did not take more for fear of discovery.

The lots, being formed of straws of different lengths, were held by M‘Mahon, the host, who was disinterested; and the person of Elizabeth, her fortune, and Moret castle, fell to the lot of M‘Carthy O’Moore, one of the Cremorgan squires, and, according to tradition, as able-bodied, stout a man as any in the whole country. The rest all swore to assist him till death; and one in the morning was the time appointed for the surprise of Elizabeth and her castle – while in the mean time they began to enjoy the good supper of old Jug Ogie.

Castle Reuben had been one of the strongest places in the county, situated on the river Barrow, in the midst of a swamp, which rendered it nearly inaccessible. It had belonged to a natural son of one of the Geraldines, who had his throat cut by Andy M‘Mahon, a game-keeper of his own; and nobody choosing to interfere with the sportsman, he, with his five sons, (all rapparees well-armed and wicked) remained peaceably in possession of the castle, and now accommodated the squires during their plot against Elizabeth.

That heroic dame, on her part, was not inactive; she informed her warders of the scheme to force a new master on her and them; and many a round oath she swore (with corresponding gesticulations, the description of which would not be over agreeable to modern readers,) that she never would grant her favours to mortal man, but preserve her castle and her chastity to the last extremity.

The warders took fire at the attempt of the squires. They always detested the defensive system; and probably to that hatred may be attributed a few of the robberies, burglaries, and burnings, which in those times were considered in that neighbourhood as little more than occasional pastimes.

“Arrah! lady,” said Keeran Karry, “how many rogues ’ill there be at Reuben, as you larn, to-night? – arrah!”

“I hear four-and-twenty,” said Elizabeth, “besides the M‘Mahons.”

“Right, a’nuff,” said Keeran: “the fish in the Barrow must want food this hard weather; and I can’t see why the rump of a rapparee may not make as nice a tit-bit for them as any thing else: four-and-twenty! – phoo!”

All then began to speak together, and join most heartily in the meditated attack on Reuben.

“Arrah! run for the priest,” says Ned Regan; “maybe yee’d like a touch of his reverence’s office first, for fear there might be any sin in it.”

“I thought you’d like him with your brandy, warders,” said Elizabeth with dignity: “I have him below: he’s praying a little, and will be up directly. The whole plan is ready for you, and Jug Ogie has the signal. Here, Keeran,” giving him a green ribbon with a daub of old Squire Fitzgerald, (who was hanged,) dangling therefrom, “if you and the warders do not bring me the captain’s ear, you have neither the courage of a weazel, nor – nor” (striking her breast hard with her able hand) “even the revenge of a woman in yees.”

“Arrah, be asy, my lady!” said Keeran, “be asy! by my sowl, we’ll bring you four-and-twenty pair, if your ladyship have any longing for the ears of such villains, my lady!”

“Now, warders,” said Elizabeth, who was too cautious to leave her castle totally unguarded, “as we are going to be just, let us also be generous; only twenty-four of them, besides five or six of the M‘Mahons, will be there. Now it would be an eternal disgrace to Moret, if we went to overpower them by numbers: twenty-four chosen warders, Father Murphy and the corporal, the gossoon and the piper, are all that shall leave this castle to-night; and if Reuben is not a big bonfire by day-break to-morrow, I hope none of you will come back to me again.”

The priest now made his appearance; he certainly seemed rather as if he had not been idle below during the colloquy on the leads; and the deep impressions upon the bottle which he held in his hand, gave ground to suppose that he had been very busy and earnest in his devotions.

“My flock!” said Father Murphy, – somewhat lispingly, – “my flock” —

“Arrah!” said Keeran Karry, “we’re not sheep to-night: never mind your flocks just now. Father! give us a couple of glasses a piece! – time enough for mutton-making.”

“You are right, my chickens!” bellowed forth Father Murphy, throwing his old black surtout over his shoulder, leaving the empty sleeves dangling at full liberty, and putting a knife and fork in his pocket for ulterior operations: – “I forgive every mother’s babe of you every thing you choose to do till sun-rise: but if you commit any sin after that time, as big even as the blacks of my nele, I can’t take charge of yeer sowls, without a chance of disappointing you.”

All was now in a bustle: – the brandy circulated merrily, and each warder had in his own mind made mince-meat of three or four of the Reuben faction, whose ears they fancied already in their pockets. The priest, spitting on his thumb, marked down the “De profundis” in the leaves of his double manual, to have it ready for the burials: – every man took his long skeen in his belt – had a thick club, with a strong spike at the end of it, slung with a stout leather thong to his wrist; and under his coat, a sharp broad hatchet with a black blade and a crooked handle. And thus, in silence, the twenty-five Moret warders, commanded by Keeran Karry, set out with their priest, the piper, and the gossoon with a copper pot slung over his shoulders as a drum, and a piece of a poker in his hand, to beat it with, on their expedition to the castle of Reuben.

Before twelve o’clock, the warders, the priest, Keeran Karry, and the castle piper, had arrived in the utmost silence and secrecy. In that sort of large half-inhabited castle, the principal entrance was through the farm-yard, which was, indeed, generally the only assailable quarter. In the present instance, the gate was half open, and the house lights appeared to have been collected in the rear, as was judged from their reflection in the water of the Barrow, which ran close under the windows. A noise was heard, but not of drunkenness; – it was a sound as of preparation for battle. Now and then a clash of steel, as if persons were practising at the sword or skeen for the offensive, was going forward in the back hall; and a loud laugh was occasionally heard. The warders foresaw it would not be so easy a business as they had contemplated, and almost regretted that they had not brought a less chivalrous numerical force.

It was concerted that ten men should creep upon their hands and feet to the front entrance, and await there until, by some accident, it might be sufficiently open for the ferocious rush which was to surprise their opponents.

But Keeran, always discreet, had some forethought that more than usual caution would be requisite. He had counted on dangers which the others had never dreamt of, and his prudence, in all probability, saved the lives of many of the warders. He preceded his men, crawling nearly on his breast; he had suspected that a dog overheard them, and a bark soon confirmed the truth of that suspicion, and announced the possibility of discovery. Keeran, however, was prepared for this circumstance; he had filled his pockets with pieces of bacon impregnated with a concentrated preparation of nux vomica, then, and at a much later period, well known to the clergy and spirituals on the continent.8 Its fatal effect on dogs was instantaneous; and the savoury bacon having rendered them quite greedy to devour it, it had now an immediate influence on two great mastiffs and a wolf-dog who roamed about the yard at nights. On taking each a portion, they resigned their share of the contest without further noise.

Keeran thus advanced crawling to the door; he found it fast, but on listening, soon had reason to conjecture that the inmates were too numerous and well armed to make the result of the battle at all certain. He crept back to the hedge; and having informed the warders of the situation in which they were placed, one and all swore that they would enter or die. The priest had lain himself down under a hay-stack in the outer yard, and the piper had retired nobody knew where, nor in fact did any body care much about him, as he was but a very indifferent chanter.

Keeran now desired the warders to handle their hatchets, and be prepared for an attack so soon as they should see the front door open, and hear three strokes on the copper kettle. The gossoon had left that machine on a spot which he had described near the gate, and Keeran requested that, in case of any fire, they should not mind it till the kettle sounded. He then crawled away, and they saw no more of him.

The moments were precious, and seemed to advance too fast. At one o’clock, a body armed possibly better than themselves, and probably much more numerous, would issue from the castle on their road to Moret, prepared for combat. The result in such a case might be very precarious. The warders by no means felt pleased with their situation; and the absence of their leader, priest, and piper gave no additional ideas of conquest or even security. In this state of things near half an hour had elapsed, when of a sudden they perceived, on the side of the hay-yard toward their own position, a small blaze of fire issue from a corn-stack – in a moment another, and another! The conflagration was most impetuous; it appeared to be devouring every thing, but as yet was not perceived by the inmates at the rear of the house. At length volumes of flame illuminated by reflection the waters of the river under the back windows. The warders now expecting the sally, rubbed their hands well with bees’ wax, and grasped tightly their hatchets, yet moved not: – breathless, with a ferocious anxiety, they awaited the event in almost maddening suspense. A loud noise now issued from the interior of the house; the fire was perceived by the garrison – still it might be accidental – the front door was thrown open, and above thirty of the inmates poured out, some fully, others not fully armed. They rushed into the hay-yard – some cried out it was “treachery!” whilst others vociferated “accident! accident!” – All was confusion, and many a stout head afterward paid for its incredulity.

At that moment the copper kettle was beaten rapidly and with force: – a responsive sound issued from the house – the garrison hesitated, but hesitation was quickly banished; for on the first blow of the kettle, the warders, in a compact body, with hideous yells, rushed on the astonished garrison, who had no conception who their enemies could be. Every hatchet found its victim; limbs, features, hands, were chopped off without mercy – death or dismemberment followed nearly every blow of that brutal weapon, whilst the broad sharp skeens soon searched the bodies of the wounded, and almost half the garrison were annihilated before they were aware of the foe by whom they had been surprised. The survivors, however, soon learned the cause (perhaps merited) of their comrades’ slaughter. The war cry of “A Gerald! – a Gerald! – a Gerald!” – which now accompanied every crash of the murderous hatchet, or every plunge of the broad-bladed skeen, informed them who they were fighting with: – fifteen or sixteen still remained unwounded of the garrison – their case was desperate. Keeran Karry now headed his warders. The gossoon rapidly and fiercely struck the copper, in unison with the sound of the fatal weapons, whilst the old and decrepit Jug Ogie, within the castle, repeated the same sound, thereby leading the garrison to believe that to retreat inside the walls would only be to encounter a fresh enemy.

The affair, however, was far from being finished; – the survivors rapidly retired, and got in a body to the position first occupied by Keeran’s warders. They were desperate – they knew they must die, and determined not to go alone to the other regions. The flames still raged with irresistible fury in the hay-yard. It was Keeran who had set fire to the corn and hay, which materials produced an almost supernatural height of blaze and impetuosity of conflagration. The survivors of the garrison were at once fortified, and concealed from view, by a high holly hedge, and awaited their turn to become assailants: – it soon arrived.

From the midst of the burning ricks in the hay-yard a shrill and piercing cry was heard to issue, of “Ough, murther – murther! – the devil – the devil! ough Holy Virgin, save me! if there is any marcy, save me!” The voice was at once recognised by the warriors of Moret as that of their priest Ned Murphy, who had fallen asleep under a hay-stack, and never awakened till the flames had seized upon his cloak. Bewildered, he knew not how to escape, being met, wherever he ran, by crackling masses. He roared and cursed to the full extent of his voice; and gave himself up for lost, though fortunately, as the materials of his habit did not associate with flame, he was not dangerously burned, although suffering somewhat in his legs. No sooner did they perceive his situation, than the warders, each man forgetting himself, rushed to save their clergy, on whom they conceived the salvation of their souls entirely to depend. They imagined that the fight was ended, and prepared to enjoy themselves by the plunder of Castle Reuben.

This was the moment for the defeated garrison: – with a loud yell of “a Moore! a Moore! a Moore!” they fell in their turn upon the entangled warders in the hay-yard, five of whose original number had been wounded, and one killed, in the first fray; whilst many had subsequently thrown down their hatchets, to rescue their pastor, and had only their spikes and skeens wherewith to defend themselves. The battle now became more serious, because more doubtful, than at its commencement. Several of the warders were wounded, and four more lay dead at the entrance to the hay-yard; their spirit was dashed, and their adversaries laid on with the fury of desperation. Keeran Karry had received two sword-thrusts through his shoulder, and could fight no more; but he could do better – he could command. He called to the warders to retreat and take possession of the castle, which was now untenanted: this step saved them; they retired thither with all possible rapidity, pursued by the former garrison of the place, who however were not able to enter with them, but killed another man before the doors were fast closed. Keeran directed the thick planks and flag-stones to be torn up, thereby leaving the hall open to the cellar beneath, as had been done at Moret. The enemy were at bay at the door, and could not advance, but, on the other hand, many of the warders having, as we before stated, flung away their hatchets, were ill armed. The moment was critical: Keeran, however, was never at a loss for some expedient; he counted his men; five had been killed in the hay-yard, and one just outside the walls; several others were wounded, amongst whom was the piper, who had been asleep. Keeran told the warders that he feared the sun might rise on their total destruction, if something were not immediately done. “Are there,” said he, “five among ye, who are willing to swap your lives for the victory?” Every man cried out at once – and, I! – I! – I! – echoed through the hall. “It is well!” said Keeran, who without delay directed five men, and the gossoon with the copper kettle, to steal out at the back of the castle, creep through the hedges, and get round directly into the rear of the foe before they attacked; having succeeded in which, they were immediately to advance, beating the vessel strongly. – “They will suppose,” said the warlike Keeran, “that it is a reinforcement, and we shall then return the sound from within. If they believe it to be a reinforcement, they will submit to mercy: if not, we’ll attack them front and rear – and as our numbers are pretty equal, very few of us on either side will tell the story to our childer! but we’ll have as good a chance, at any rate, as them villains.”

This scheme was carried into immediate execution, and completely succeeded. The enemy, who were now grouped outside the door, hearing the kettle in their rear, supposed that they should be at once attacked by sally and from behind. Thinking they had now only to choose between death and submission, the mercy, which was offered, they accepted; and peep-o’day being arrived, the vanquished agreed to throw their arms into the well, – to swear before the priest that they never would disturb, or aid in disturbing, Lady Elizabeth or the castle of Moret, – that no man on either side should be called upon by law for his fighting that night; and finally, that the person who had succeeded in drawing the lot for Elizabeth, should deliver up the lock of his hair that grew next his ear, to testify his submission: this latter clause, however, was stipulated needlessly, as M‘Carthy O’Moore was discovered in the farm-yard, with nearly all his face sliced off, and several skeen wounds in his arms and body. Early in the morning, the dead were buried without noise or disturbance in a consecrated gravel-pit, and both parties breakfasted together in perfect cordiality and good-humour: those who fell were mostly tenants of the squires. The priest, having had his burnt legs and arm dressed with chewed herbs9 by Jug Ogie, said a full mass, and gave all parties double absolution, as the affair was completed by the rising of the sun. The yard was cleared of blood and havock; the warders and garrison parted in perfect friendship; and the former returned to Moret Castle, bringing back Jug Ogie to her impatient mistress. Of the warders, thirteen returned safe; six remained behind badly wounded, and six were dead. Keeran’s wounds were severe, but they soon healed; and Elizabeth afterward resided at Moret to a very late period in the reign of George the First. Reuben soon changed its occupant, M‘Mahon, who, in the sequel, was hanged for the murder of his master; and that part of the country has since become one of the most civilized of the whole province.

I have given the foregoing little history in full, inasmuch as it is but little known – is, I believe, strictly matter of fact, and exhibits a curious picture of the state of Irish society and manners in or about the year 1690. A small part of Moret castle is still standing, and presents a very great curiosity. One single ivy tree has, for a period beyond the memory of man, enveloped the entire ruins; has insinuated its tendrils through the thick walls; penetrated every seam and aperture; and now contributes to display one solid mass of combined masonry and foliage. It stands on the old Byrne (now Lansdowne) estate, about a mile from the great heath, Queen’s County.