that every Protestant young man was then an Orangeman, and that a strong, relentless feeling of religious and political hatred subsisted between them and the Catholic party, we think that there are few, even among our strongest Conservatives, if any, who would attempt to defend the inhuman policy of allowing one party of Irishmen, stimulated by the worst passions, to be let loose thus armed upon defenceless men, whom, besides, they looked upon and treated as enemies.

The men in question, who were known by the sobriquet of Deaker’s Dashers, were, in point of fact, the terror of every one in the country who was not an Orangeman, no matter what his creed or conduct might be.  They were to a man guided by the true Tory principle, not only of supporting Protestantism, but of putting down Popery; and yet, with singular inconsistency, they were seldom or never seen within a church door, all their religion consisting in giving violent and offensive toasts, and their loyalty in playing party tunes, singing Orange songs, meeting in Orange lodges, and executing the will of some such oppressor as M’Clutchy, who was by no means an exaggerated specimen of the Orange Tory.

Deaker’s Dashers were commanded on this occasion by a little squat figure, all belly, with a short pair of legs at one end, and a little red, fiery face, that looked as if it would explode—­at the other.  The figure was mounted on horseback, and as it and its party gallantly entered this city of cabins, it clapped its hands on its side, to impress the enemy, no doubt, with a due sense of its military character and prowess.  Behind the whole procession, at a little distance, rode M’Clutchy and M’Slime, graceful Phil having declined the honor of the expedition altogether, principally, he said, in consequence of the shortness of the days, and the consequent very sudden approach of night.  We cannot omit to state, that Darby O’Drive was full of consequence and importance, and led on his followers, with a roll of paper containing the list of fill those who were to be expelled, rolled up in his hand, somewhat like a baton of office.  Opposed to this display stood a crowd of poor shivering wretches, with all the marks of poverty and struggle, and, in many cases, of famine and extreme destitution, about them and upon them.  Women with their half starved children in their arms, many of them without shoes or stockings—­laboring care-worn men, their heads bound up in cotton handkerchiefs, as intimating illness or recovery from illness—­old men bent over their staves, some with long white hair, streaming to the breeze, and all with haggard looks of terror, produced by the well known presence among them of Deaker’s Dashers.

And this was Christmas eve—­a time of joy and festivity!