in open day, his son, a boy of fifteen or sixteen, having also a narrow escape.  Purcel’s position was now one of extreme danger and difficulty.  The combination against tithes had been carried to such a height, that not only were the people sworn to pay no tithes, but all the proctor’s laborers were forced, besides, to quit his employment.  No man could work for him, unless at the certain risk of his life.  By the mere influence of money, and the offer of triple wages, he succeeded in procuring a number of workmen from a neighboring county; but no sooner were they seen in his employment, than an immense crowd collected from all parts of the country, and after treating them with great violence, swore, every man of them, never to work for Purcel, or any other tithe-proctor whatever.  This treatment exasperated the Purcels exceedingly; indeed, so much so, that they expressed to the people a wish that their house should be attacked, in order that they might thereby have an opportunity of shooting the assailants like dogs.  In this way the feeling ran on between them day by day, until the acrimony and thirst for vengeance, on each side, had reached its utmost height.  In the meantime, a tithe auction was to take place at a distance of some three or four miles from the Proctor’s.  On the morning when it was to take place, Mogue Moylan told Alick Purcel that he wished to speak to him.  This scoundrel’s plausibility was such, that he had continued to act the spy and traitor in the family, without exciting suspicion in the mind of any one, with the exception only of Jerry Joyce, who being himself involved in Whiteboyism, was placed in a position of great difficulty and danger.  To have discovered Mogue’s treachery, would not only criminate himself, by the necessity of admitting his connection with this illegal combination, which was a felony at the time, but it would also have probably occasioned the loss of his life, by betraying the designs of his confederacy, and thus proving himself, as it would have been termed, a traitor to the people, and to the cause of his country.  Such, in truth, are the multifarious evils that result from illegal conspiracies among our impulsive and unreasoning countryman.

“It’s a word or two I’d wish to spake to you, Mr. Alick.”

“Well, Mogue, what’s the matter?  Are you still determined to be hard-hearted to poor Letty Lenehan?”

“That I may never sup sorrow, Mr. Alick, if I can help the foolish creature!  I do all I can to let her see that we are not aiquils; but the thoughtless girl won’t be convinced.  I belong to a family, sir, that always suffered for our counthry.  Widin the last six hundre’ years, I have it from sound authority, that there never was a ruction on Irish ground that wasn’t the manes of havin’ some o’ them hanged or transported, glory be to God!  An’ you know, Mr. Alick, that’s a proud boast, an’ what every one couldn’t say.”

“All I can say then, Mogue, is, that if you look upon that as an honor, I have no objection that the fate should follow the family, and, I suppose, neither have you.”