that we would not attack the town, and required five hundred men for another enterprise.  A short time afterwards some directions were required, and I wrote one or two sentences on a scrap of paper which was taken from the messenger by the Rev. Mr. Byrne and torn.  What his influencing motives might have been I know not, nor do I care to inquire.  My first impulse was immediately to appear in the town and throw myself on the protection of the people.  My friend dissuaded me from this attempt and proposed to go into town himself, which he could do without danger, to ascertain what would be the probability of my proposal’s success.  After two or three anxious hours, he returned, impressed with the conviction that such an attempt would be fatal.

By this time crowds began to assemble at the place of rendezvous before alluded to, and word was brought us that the Reverend Mr. Morrissey, the parish priest of that place, was endeavouring to disperse them.  Owing to his character, there was not much to be apprehended from his influence with the people.  His associations had been with the aristocracy, and most of his friendships and sympathies contracted at the fox-covert, or on the “Stand House.”  This is mentioned, not in disparagement of the man, but for the purpose of rescuing his Order from imputations attaching to his conduct alone.  The very fact of his interference would suggest the conclusion that the course he recommended was opposed to the general sentiments of his brethren; so we felt at this time.  But we mistook his influence with the people.  It was reported to us that he used certain arguments, incredible, because blasphemous.  But the argument which succeeded, and which all alike attested, was this, “that he would put himself at the head of the people if they but waited three weeks.”

Influenced by this promise, the people had dispersed before my friend arrived at the place of rendezvous.  He returned to me sadly discouraged, after a day and night of labour and agitation as intense as ever strained the energies of man.  I then determined to ride on to Cashel, to learn the fate of Mr. O’Brien and his comrades.  I was accompanied by two young farmers, well armed.  We arrived about midnight at Brookhill, where I was made acquainted with all that had occurred at Cashel.

The history was more melancholy than our own.  My absence was used as an argument, sincere or pretended, against any effort in that town.  Mr. O’Brien, in ignorance of whom to apply to, took counsel with one man at least, since accused of the darkest treachery.  Others, from whom I had different hopes, shrank from an encounter which, at other times, they seemed to long for as the dearest blessing Heaven could bestow.  There no clergymen interfered—­the people were left to act for themselves; but it must be admitted that the actual people never had an opportunity of proving their courage.  A young friend of mine, who had all my trust, and justified it by unshaken fidelity through many a trial, was despatched to the country to procure assistance, but he applied to the wrong source, and, deluded by the character of him to whom he had spoken, returned under the mistaken conviction that from the country nothing was to be expected.