likely to be invaded by the rebels—I shall carry
a diamond or some other precious stone
concealed in my dress, to pay for my ransom in the
event of my being taken.

THE IRISH IN ENGLAND.

THE pleasant good old combativeness in
support of a darling opinion, for which the Irish
nation has been always distinguished, is happily
not yet dead. Recent events show satisfactorily
that the irresistible logic of the stick is more in
favour than the closest syllogism in Barbara.

In the case of the Briton proper, there is
every reasonable excuse for the temporary abeyance
of this wholesome spirit. Police arrangements
have reached a perfection incompatible
with the free gratification of this mode of
discussion, and there is a tendency in the guardians
of public order to interfere with a calm and
satisfactory arrangement of personal differences
by this agency. Commercial pursuits have a
distracting influence, and, though much might
be reasonably hoped from the ennobling institution
of the Ring, still it is not to be concealed
that there is a sensible decay perceptible in the
popularity of the good old English argument of
the crab-stick.

It is some consolation to think that the old
cudgel Faith is still kept alive among a portion
of our fellow-subjects. Despite the cold shade
of the Saxon, the worship of the stick is still
fondly clung to, and carried on like the creed of
the early Christians, under persecution—in caves,
and deserts, and private places. The familiar
music of shillelagh rattling on shillelagh, still
enlivens the ignoble solitude; the traditional
invitation to tread on a portion of a gentleman's
wearing apparel is still occasionally heard at fairs
and places of public resort, though perhaps not
so frequently as could be desired. But the
recent successful arguments—kept up with such
spirit and enthusiasm both at Hyde Park and
Birkenhead—show that there is still a vitality
in the ancient exercises, and that we do not live
in such degenerate times after all.

Recently in this journal was presented a few
notes on the past glories of Ireland, when a
healthier tone in reference to the exciting
accomplishment of duelling was abroad in that
country. In the present paper it is proposed
to give a few extracts from the Fasti of the
more irregular engagements, that lack, perhaps,
the guidance of a code of rules and the elegance
of punctilio, but are not the less characteristic
and interesting. The Irish Pilgrim Fathers, in
their exodus from the land of their birth and
new settlement in Seven Dials, and other retired
and exclusive districts, bore with them their
cherished rites and traditions, keeping them
buried, as it were, until a suitable opportunity
should occur. The ceremony of reconciliation
was performed by burying, not the hatchet, but
an instrument less liable to the influences of
rust—the shillelagh.

Since the arrival of the Pilgrim Fathers,
whose ranks have been reinforced by periodical
additionals, their residence has been marked,
according to the necessary and invariable rule
of all settlements, by a series of desperate
encounters with the natives of surrounding
districts. Some of these were fought out with
doubtful issue, victory sometimes inclining to
this party, sometimes to that. The aborigines,
too, always having the unfair advantage on their
side of constituted authority, and what are
termed the "minions of the law:" an advantage
which in all instances they declined to forego,
an example that in the more chivalric land of
the Pilgrim Fathers would be visited with
reprobation.

So far back as the year seventeen hundred and
sixty-one the battle of King's Langley took
place. At that time, as at the present, the land
of the Saxon used to be invaded at certain
periods by hordes of nomad husbandmen, who,
armed with scythe and reaping-hook, ravaged
the country far and near in a peaceful fashion,
and swept every field clear of the results of "the
labours of the ox," and rich crops. It came to
pass that a strong party visited King's Langley
with these agricultural ends; and in the
arrangements incident to the relations between
employers and employed, a slight difficulty arose
as to terms, which was by-and-by inflamed into
mutual exasperation. It was finally decided to
appeal to arms, and "a great skirmish ensued."
Presently, the King's Langley farmers found
themselves getting worsted, and despatched a
messenger for prompt relief. It arrived in the
shape of the Royal Foresters, then quartered at
Watford, tremendous auxiliaries. Against this
interposition the reapers could make small way.
They were driven back and routed; six were
captured, and many wounded left on the field. But
the remnant of the reaping army managed to
retreat in good order, and, by a masterly piece of
strategy, shifted the war to the island of Ely,
where the advantages were greater for strangers
ignorant of the natural shape of the country, and
there renewed the fight with more success, but
with what final issue is not known.

Some thirteen or fourteen years later, the scene
shifts to the metropolis, and the year seventeen
'seventy-four is notorious for the battle of Mill-
hill. English and Irish haymakers are the
combatants, and a reference to the month and day of
the month—the third or fourth of July—shows
that a principle was involved, and that infuriated
rakes were being flourished in reference to the
tranquil river of the Boyne. No question of
vulgar wages was involved, and there justly
results what the prints of the time style,
with trepidation, "a dreadful affray." It was
kept up with spirit the whole of Monday and
Tuesday, to the great alarm of such inhabitants
of the district as loved monotony and quiet
pursuits. Numbers on both sides were severely
wounded, and carried off in a dangerous
condition, and one man, one woman, and one child,
who was brought into the battle, or
voluntarily rushed into the danger, killed. Eleven ring-
leaders were captured, and led away before the