Their most unjustifiable excesses, however, Were committed in his absence, and without his orders; for it is due to Deaker himself to say, that, although a staunch political Protestant and infidel, he never countenanced violence against those who differed from him in creed.  Deaker’s creed was a very peculiar one, and partook of the comic profligacy which marked his whole life.  He believed, for instance, that Protestantism was necessary, but could not for the life of him understand the nature or tendency of religion.  As he himself said, the three great Protestant principles and objects of his life were—­to drink the “Glorious Memory “—­“To hell with the Pope”—­merely because he was not a Protestant—­and to “die whistling the Boyne Water.”  If he could accomplish these successfully, he thought he had discharged his duty to his king and country, and done all that could be fairly expected from an honest and loyal Protestant.  And, indeed, little, if anything else, in a religious way, was expected from him, or from any other person, at the period of which we write.

Be this, however, as it may, the formation of a new corps of cavalry was determined on, and by unanimous consent, the conduct of the matter in all its departments was entrusted to Mr. Hartley, the gentleman already mentioned, as selected to contest the county against Lord Cumber or his brother, for it had not yet been decided on between them, as to which of them should stand.  Lord Cumber expected an Earldom for his virtues, with a seat in the house of Lords, and should these honors reach him in time, then his brother, the Hon. Richard Topertoe, should be put in nomination.  In point of fact, matters between the two parties were fast drawing to a crisis, and it was also in some degree to balance interests with Lord Cumber, and neutralize the influence of the Irish government, that Hartley and his friends deemed it advisible to have a cavalry corps at their disposal.  The day of the dissolution of parliament was now known, and it naturally became necessary that each candidate should be found at his post.

It was at this very period that a circumstance occurred, which, although of apparently small importance, was nevertheless productive of an incident that will form the catastrophe of our chronicles.  Our readers cannot forget the warm language which passed between the man Sharpe and our exquisite friend, Philip M’Clutchy, on their way from Deaker’s.  Now, it is due to this man to say, that, on looking back at the outrage which occurred in O’Regan’s cottage, and reflecting upon the melancholy consequences it produced—­not forgetting the heart-rending insanity of O’Regan’s wife—­he felt deep regret, amounting almost to remorse, for the part which he bore in it.  Independently of this, however, the conduct of Phil and his father, in their military capacity over the corps, was made up of such tyrranical insolence at one time, and of such contemptible meanness at another, that the men