yells that they heard, but had been pelting them with hard turf, stones, and brickbats.  From one of these my father received a blow on the side of his head, which came with such force as to stagger and almost to stun him; but he kept himself from falling, knowing that if he once fell he would be trampled under foot.  He walked on steadily till he came within a few yards of the inn, when one of the mob seized hold of Major Eustace by the collar.  My father seeing the windows of the inn open, called with a loud voice, “Major Eustace is in danger!”

’The officers, who were at dinner, and who till that moment had supposed the noise in the street to be only drunken rejoicings, immediately ran out and rescued Major Eustace and my father.  At the sight of British officers and drawn swords, the populace gave way, and dispersed in different directions.

’The preparation for the illumination then went on as if nothing had intervened.  All the panes of our windows in the front room were in a blaze of light by the time the mob returned through the street.  The night passed without further disturbance.

’As early as we could the next morning we left Longford, and returned homewards, all danger from rebels being now over, and the Rebellion having been terminated by the late battle.

’When we came near Edgeworth Town, we saw many well-known faces at the cabin doors looking out to welcome us.  One man, who was digging in his field by the roadside, when he looked up as our horses passed, and saw my father, let fall his spade and clasped his hands; his face, as the morning sun shone upon it, was the strongest picture of joy I ever saw.  The village was a melancholy spectacle; windows shattered and doors broken.  But though the mischief done was great, there had been little pillage.  Within our gates we found all property safe; literally “not a twig touched, nor a leaf harmed.”  Within the house everything was as we had left it—­a map that we had been consulting was still open upon the library table, with pencils, and slips of paper containing the first lessons in arithmetic, in which some of the young people had been engaged the morning we had driven from home; a pansy, in a glass of water, which one of the children had been copying, was still on the chimney-piece.  These trivial circumstances, marking repose and tranquillity, struck us at this moment with an unreasonable sort of surprise, and all that had passed seemed like an incoherent dream.  The joy of having my father in safety remained, and gratitude to Heaven for his preservation.  These feelings spread inexpressible pleasure over what seemed to be a new sense of existence.  Even the most common things appeared delightful; the green lawn, the still groves, the birds singing, the fresh air, all external nature, and all the goods and conveniences of life, seemed to have wonderfully increased in value from the fear into which we had been put of losing them irrevocably.