tranquilly, little thinking of what was to come. All
these men had been sworn to a very strange
oath "to God and the world, to certify the
truth;" also, "to dethrone all kings, plant the
tree of liberty in Ireland, and be a republic like
America." And their leader had further
inflamed their animosity with a stirring and
appropriate speech, in which he reminded them of
the rumours then abroad, that the Reverend
Mr. Knipe was shortly to be placed at the head of
one hundred thousand men, whom he would lead
in person, to exterminate the innocent Irish
peasantry. Captain Fearnought displayed some
knowledge of tactics in his arrangement for the
attack. The main body was drawn up so as to
carefully surround the house, and a picket of
twenty men was then told off to act as scouts,
and to give the alarm by firing six shots. Finally,
Captain Fearnought himself advanced to the
door, with huge sledge-hammers and crowbars,
and then taking with him thirteen of his men,
entered the house, just as the clock struck
one.

In a few moments Captain Fearnought and
his men emerged from the house, dragging with
them the body of Mr. Knipe, apparently dead;
having flung it down on the ground in front
of the hall-door, the others gathered round it in
a dense ring. Then Captain Fearnought, raising
his pistol, discharged it full into Mr. Knipe's
head, and two ruffians being called up from the
ranks, fired their blunderbusses full into the
body: which, as described by a witness of the
scene, seemed to rise in the air through the force
of the discharge. Their bloody work being thus
accomplished, Captain Fearnought and his men
dispersed and went to their homes.

It is the inevitable destiny of all who are
concerned in deeds of this description, and under
the patronage of a sworn secret society, to be
brought to justice through the agency of an
accomplice. In this instance, one of the party,
John Coghlan by name, came forward to offer
himself as king's evidence; and on his testimony
Captain Fearnought was indicted as plain John
Taite, and very nearly escaped. The jury could
not, or would not, agree; and, according to the
profound and enlightened practice of the times,
were "carted" to the border of the county, and
there shot out iguominiously into another
jurisdiction. But Nemesis came surely, though a little
late. At the next assizes Captain Fearnought was
satisfactorily convicted, and was hung in chains
in the usual way. The approver was taken care
of in the Ordnance Office at eleven shillings a
week, besides being employed in occasional spy
duty by the notorious Major Sirr: for which he
received a further sum of half a guinea per week,
besides an annuity from a grateful country of
twenty pounds a year for his natural life. This
was the story of the Reverend Mr. Knipe. The
only surprising part of the transaction is, that in
an age so eminently bloody, only one offering
was made to Moloch, and that a handsome
percentage of the three hundred, or at least a
decimation, was not sacrificed.

The well-known George Robert Fitz-Gerald,
who bore the complimentary sobriquet of Fighting
Fitz-Gerald, did not come by his death
through one of the risks he had so often
encountered without danger, but from a lawless
attack of this description made in broad daylight.
There was living at a place called Liberty Hall—
a name that had been changed from Chancery
Hall—a man called McDonnell, who had had
the misfortune to offend the famous fire-eater;
and the famous fire-eater, who now appears to
have been anything but a desperate antagonist,
but rather of a timid disposition, instead of
choosing the doubtful issue of the customary
cartel, preferred a surer and safer course. He
collected a band of desperadoes, over a hundred
in number, and led them to the assault of Liberty
Hall, alias Chancery Hall. The victim got
notice of these murderous designs, and, taking
horse, fled; but, by various strategical
movements on the part of "Colonel" Fitz-Gerald,
he was eventually surrounded and taken
prisoner. He was led away with others, treated
with great barbarity, and placed under a strong
guard, who had orders, on the slightest attempt
at a rescue, to shoot him dead. This was so
carefully impressed on the escort, that it is no
wonder that when a few shots were heard in the
rear the hint was at once taken, and the unfortunate
prisoner killed on the spot. For this offence
"Colonel" Fitz-Gerald (he bore this title by a
sort of loose assumption, analogous to American
brevet rank, and with an authority quite as
sufficient) was tried, found guilty, and hanged in
due course, to the great delight of all peaceably
minded men. It was said, indeed, that so anxious
were the community to be rid of this terrible
plague, that the law was purposely strained a
little, in order not to lose so advantageous an
opportunity of getting rid of such a disturber of
public peace and comfort.

What was known as the Holy Cross murder,
which took place in 1827, scarcely thirty-five
years ago, is full of dramatic horrors. The scene
was in view of one of the most beautiful and best
preserved of the old Irish ruins, which bore the
picturesque name of Holy Cross Abbey; and the
incidents have been very graphically given by
the late Mr. Sheil, who was present at the trial.
The centre figure is a Mr. Chadwick, a stern
old rigorist landlord of the Cromwellian pattern,
who gathered in his rents inflexibly, and where
there was default put the law in force without
an hour's delay. Low murmurings and suppressed
mutterings gave sign of growing discontent,
and he began to walk abroad amid ominous
tokens of an accumulating hatred. He affected,
however, a bitter contempt for those whom he
oppressed, and to show how completely he
despised even their power of doing him an injury
exhibited himself very conspicuously among them.
As he grew stout, he used to say to them
contemptuously, "I am fattening on your curses."
And they, with an artful disguise of their real
feelings, which is one of the characteristics of
the Irish peasant, would answer smoothly that
his honour was mighty pleasant, and shure, God
bless him, he was mighty fond of his joke! When,