equalled those of the French Revolution. From
thirteen to fifteen Protestants were put to
death every morning, the executioners crossing
themselves, and praying before they
discharged their muskets. They tortured many
prisoners—putting out their eyes and then starving
them. They compelled Protestants to shoot
each other. If a man was able to "prove
himself a Christian" by saying Catholic prayers,
they sometimes liberated him. Some men were
buried half alive, and in one or two cases even
then escaped and recovered.

About five hundred persons, men of
fortune, justices, clergymen, merchants, farmers,
labourers, and mechanics, perished in these
massacres. Several scenes of great pathos occurred
during these cruel trials in the camp. On the 30th
of May, William Neil, a farmer of Ballybrennen,
and his two sons, Henry and Bryan, were taken
to Vinegar Hill. Joseph Murphy, the leader of
the pikemen, swore that he would bring in no
more Orangemen unless they were put to death
quicker. A conference was held, and the father
and two sons were, of course, instantly
condemned. They first led out Bryan, who begged
them to shoot him, and not to torture him with
pikes. One of the men said he should not die
so easily, and struck him on the head with an
adze; as he reeled back, two others stabbed him
with spears, and a third then shoved the rest
aside and shot the man. The father was then
brought forward, and, soliciting to be shot, was
thrust on his knees and fired at by the
executioner three times. Father Roche, who
attended the execution, then ordered the man
who fired to try if his piece would go off in the
air. On its doing so, Father Roche liberated
the farmer, imputing his escape to Divine
Providence. Another of Neil's sons was burnt by
the rebels in a barn, with two or three hundred
other Protestant prisoners, at Scullabogue.

Another day, John Mooney, a doctor's
servant, was dragged out of the mill and placed
beside a row of sixteen dead men. Brien, the
executioner, according to custom, desired him to turn
his back.  Mooney refused, saying he was not
afraid to face a bullet; and seeing the
executioner was ragged, took off his coat, waistcoat,
and hat, gave them to him for his trouble, telling
him to come nearer and do the business
properly. The ruffian, struck with his courage,
swore it was a proof of his innocence, and he
would have nothing to do with him. On this,
Murtagh Brien, alias Kane, a savage wretch,
rose from his knees (for he was praying), and
presenting his blunderbuss, insisted on shooting
the heretic; but Brien interfered, threatened
to blow out the brains of any man who
even attempted to injure Mooney, and
dismissed the prisoner.

The men in the camp used to cry out to the
prisoners, " There will be soon but one religion
on the face of the earth. This is the handiwork
of God, for Father John Murphy catches red-hot
bullets in his hand. We tell you a priest can
bring a lighted candle out of a pail of water."
The priests also reviled them. " You sons of
Belial," they said, "that withstood our holy
religion, which existed eight hundred years
before yours began, you will see how these pike-
men will treat you unless there is a great
reformation in you."

On the 14th of June, a poor woman, named
Hall, went to the Vinegar Hill prison to see her
husband, who was shut up there. She forced
her way through the rebels, and found them
dragging his body by the heels, a man with a
green sash on superintending the execution.
As she knelt and took the body in her arms the
clouds thundered and lightened, on which the
rebels fell on their knees and blessed themselves.
She said, " God is angry at your act."

"No," they replied, with an oath, " God is
sounding the horn of joy because an Orange-
man is killed." Upon this her husband, whom
she had thought dead, stretched out his feet,
turned to her, said faintly, " Molly, my dear,
take me from these people," and expired. The
body was black as if with lashes, and was
pierced at the breast with a bullet. The rebels
refused to let her take the body, and said,
if she was so fond of a dead husband, they
would cut his body in pieces and fasten them to
her. There was an old man with a scythe, who
used to go round the bodies after an execution
and strike on the head those who still
breathed. Many were buried while still gasping.
The rebels frequently pierced the bodies
with swords, or dragged them with shouts
round the hill. Many of the prisoners were
shaved and pitch caps were placed on their
heads. Some were lashed with brass wire (this
mode of torture was fashionable recently in
Jamaica, but it was not the negroes who used it).
As the Protestants grew scarcer, the rebels used
slower tortures. A favourite cruelty of theirs
was to put a wedge-shaped stone in a
Protestant's mouth, and then to stamp on the
broader end.

Father John Murphy was a bold, light-
complexioned man of about forty-five. He was
not very tall, but well made, strong, and agile.
He was very passionate, and when in a rage
was savage as a mad tiger. He wore pistols
in a cross-belt over his vestment, and carried
a pix, oil for extreme unction, and a crucifix
in his pocket. Thomas Dixon, another
Wexford chieftain, was the son of a publican, who
had first been a tanner and then the master of a
merchant-vessel. His wife was even more savage
and relentless than himself. There were also
gentlemen among the rebel generals. John
Colclough was an amiable and excellent man, who
protested against all excesses. Mr. Grogan, of
Johnstown Castle, another chief, was an old
infirm man, who had been three times high sheriff.
The rebel governor of Wexford, Keogh, was a
half-pay captain, who had served with credit in
America. Another leader, who bitterly repented
having joined so bloodthirsty a set of patriots,
was Beauchamp Bagnal Harvey, of Bargay
Castle, an eccentric and good-natured barrister
—thin, shambling, short, with features cramped
with the small-pox, and a gay tremulous voice.
Father Clinch, another of the priests most active
in urging on the troops and in selling them