from Government, principally, he said, in consequence of his own influence, and because, in all his robberies, it had not been known that he ever took away human life.  In general, however, this was the policy of the Rapparees, unless when they identified themselves with political contests and outrages, and on those occasions they were savage and cruel as fiends.  In simple robbery on the king’s highway, or in burglaries in houses, they seldom, almost never, committed murder, unless when resisted, and in defence of their lives.  On the contrary, they were quite gallant to females, whom they treated with a kind of rude courtesy, not unfrequently returning the lady of the house her gold watch—­but this only on occasions when they had secured a large booty of plate and money.  The Threshers of 1805-6 and ’7, so far as cruelty goes, were a thousand times worse; for they spared neither man nor woman in their infamous and nocturnal visits; and it is enough to say, besides, that their cowardice was equal to their cruelty.  It has been proved, at special commissions held about those periods, that four or five men, with red coats on them, have made between two or three hundred of the miscreants run for their lives, and they tolerably well-armed.  Whether Sir Robert’s account of the Rapparee’s pardon was true or false will appear in due time; for the truth is, that Whitecraft was one of those men who, in consequence of his staunch loyalty and burning zeal in carrying out the inhuman measures of the then Government, was permitted with impunity to run into a licentiousness of action, as a useful public man, which no modern government would, or dare, permit.  At the period of which we write, there was no press, so to speak, in Ireland, and consequently no opportunity of at once bringing the acts of the Irish Government, or of public men, to the test of public opinion.  Such men, therefore, as Whitecraft, looked upon themselves as invested with irresponsible power; and almost in every instance their conduct was approved of, recognized, and, in general, rewarded by the Government of the day.  The Beresford family enjoyed something like this unenviable privilege, during the rebellion of ’98, and for some time afterwards.  We have alluded to Mrs. Oxley, the sheriffs, fat wife; whether fortunately or unfortunately for the poor sheriff, who had some generous touches of character about him, it so happened, at this period of our narrative she popped off one day, in a fit of apoplexy, and he found himself a widower.  Now, our acquaintance, Fergus Reilly, who was as deeply disguised as our hero, had made his mind up, if possible, to bring the Rapparee into trouble.  This man had led his patron to several places where it was likely that the persecuted priests might be found; and, for this reason, Fergus knew that he was serious in his object to betray them.  This unnatural treachery of the robber envenomed his heart against him, and he resolved to run a risk in watching his motions.