Buck English is a real character—­his real name was Ryan, and he had been respectably reared, but gave himself up to the intoxicating excitement of the French Revolution—­he also fought in ’98, and subsequently, for his intelligence and daring spirit, became the leader of all the lawless and disaffected parties in his native County of Limerick, and, indeed, of all Munster.

The parties within the old ruin now made their appearance on the hill, and every man of them going to the head of his own body, they marched first to Hospital, a contiguous village, where they boldly beat a drum, the sound of which called up, as by enchantment, such a concourse of armed men as frightened the parties themselves.  They marched from that, westwards, to Knockany, where they dug up several extensive fields (of grass) belonging to Mr. O’Grady.  They marched on then, in the same direction, towards the residence of the Bolands, their numbers increasing as they went along, by voluntary and involuntary parties.

The Bolands, ever on the watch, soon learned that they were to be visited that night by those parties whom they had so long defied, but they never calculated that they Should be attacked by such a strong force as they now learned was approaching them—­for it is believed that the actual number could not have been less than five thousand men, contributed by the Counties of Limerick Clare, Kerry, Cork, Waterford, Tipperary, and Kilkenny.

However, they were not daunted, but immediately put themselves in order of battle.  They first sent out (off their premises) all their servants, men and women, lest there should be a spy or a traitor among them.  They then carried up all their arms and ammunition to the top floor of their (two-story, long, thatched) house.  The father and the younger sons planted themselves at one of the window’s facing the front.  The elder son and the family tutor, a young man of the neighborhood, who would not abandon them in their hour of danger, took their stand at the window which looked directly at the narrow strong door of the wall which inclosed the house.  The two daughters, with their mother, took up their places between the two windows, under cover of the wall, and having been well practiced for som, weeks previous, stood prepared to load and hand up the arms to their heroes when the occasion should arrive.  About the hour of one o’clock in the morning, the barking of dogs, and an odd random shot, gave the Bolands certain and unmistakable notice that their hour of terror was at hand.  And soon they could hear a monotonous sound of moving feet and suppressed voices, under the outer walls of their fortress.  A horn was then sounded, and the besieged were called upon to open their gates and surrender at discretion.  But no answer was received from within, where all was total darkness and apparent inactivity.  Several attempts were now made to burst the strong yard door, but without effect.  The assailants then began