“Now,” said Poll to the females who accompanied her—­“go home every one of yez; but, for goodness sake don’t be spakin’ of what you seen this night.  The poor girl’s correcther’s gone, sure enough; but for all that, let us have nothing to say to her or Mr. Phil.  It’ll all come out time enough, and more than time enough, without our help; so, as I said, hould a hard cheek about it.  Indeed it’s the safest way to do so—­for the same M’Loughlins is a dangerous and bitther faction to make or meddle with.  Go off now, in the name of goodness, and say nothin’ to nobody—­barring, indeed, to some one that won’t carry it farther.”

Whilst this dialogue, which did not occupy more than a couple of minutes, was proceeding, a scene of a different character took place in M’Loughlin’s parlor, upon a topic which, at that period, was a very plausible pretext for much brutal outrage and violence on the part of the Orange yeomanry—­we mean the possession, or the imputed possession, of fire-arms.  Indeed the state of society in a great part of Ireland—­shortly after the rebellion of ninety-eight—­was then such as a modern conservative would blush for.  An Orangeman, who may have happened to entertain a pique against a Roman Catholic, or sustained an injury from one, had nothing more to do than send abroad, or get some one to send abroad for him, a report that he had fire-arms in his possession.  No sooner had this rumor spread, than a party of these yeomanry assembled in their regimentals, and with loaded fire-arms, proceeded, generally in the middle of the night or about day-break, to the residence of the suspected person.  The door, if not immediately opened, was broken in—­the whole house ransacked—­the men frequently beaten severely, and the ears of females insulted by the coarsest and most indecent language.

These scenes, which in nineteen cases out of twenty, the Orangemen got up to gratify private hatred and malignity, were very frequent, and may show us the danger of any government entrusting power, in whatever shape, or arms or ammunition, to irresponsible hands, or subjecting one party to the fierce passions and bigoted impulses of another.

The noise of their horses’ feet as they approached M’Loughlin’s house in a gallop, alarmed that family, who knew at once that it was a domiciliary visit from M’Clutchy’s cavalry.

“Raise the window,” said M’Loughlin himself, “and ask them what they want—­or stay, open the door,” he added at the same time to another, “and do not let us give them an excuse for breaking it in.  It’s the blood-hounds, sure enough,” observed he, “and here they are.”

In a moment they were dismounted, and having found the hall door open, the parlor was crowded with armed men, who manifested all the overbearing insolence and wanton insult of those who know that they can do so with impunity.

“Come, M’Loughlin,” said Cochrane, now their leader, “you ribelly Papish rascal, produce your arms—­for we have been informed that you have arms consaled in the house.”