scapulars to protect from lead and steel, was a
burly man, of huge stature, who rode a large
white horse, and wore a scimetar, with a broad
cross-belt, and a pair of long horse-pistols.

While the camp was being organised, and
Vinegar Hill was being soaked with Protestant
blood, Wexford had been seized by the
insurgents, and a provisional government
established. The rebels had already shown a desire
to imitate the French Jacobins by dancing round
a tree of liberty at Enniscorthy, by openly
comparing two of their leaders to Santerre and
Marat, and by singing semi-French songs with
the chorus of " Viva-là." The chief Wexford
Protestants were seized, and thrust into a sloop
in the harbour, the town jail, and the market-
house. Murder soon commenced.

On the morning of the 19th of June, Thomas
Dixon, the rebel captain, rode to the jail door,
and swore loudly that by sunset not a prisoner
should be left alive, nor a soul left to tell the
tale. Soon after the town bell rang, and the
drums beat to arms to assemble the pikemen
who were to march to the Three Rocks against
General Morris's brigade. That same evening
Dixon assembled his men, and hoisting a black
flag, which had on one side a large blood-red
cross, and on the other the initials M.W.S.
(" Murder Without Sin"), signifying it was no
sin to murder a Protestant, led the prisoners
to the bridge where they were to be executed.
Each batch was preceded by a black flag, some
drummers and fifers, and was escorted by a
strong guard of pikemen. The mob consisted
of more women than men, and they shouted at
the death of each victim. The usual manner of
putting them to death was this: Two rebels
pushed their pikes into the prisoner's breast, and
two into his back. They then lifted him up
writhing in torture, held him suspended till he
died, and then threw him over the parapet into
the water. Some Protestants, however, saved
themselves by going through Roman Catholic
ceremonies, or repeating the Ave Maria.

While the massacre was proceeding, a rebel
captain besought the popish bishop, who was
calmly sipping his wine after dinner, to save the
prisoners. The bishop replied that it was no
affair of his—the people must be gratified, and
requested the captain to sit down and take a
glass of wine. The captain, however, indignantly
refused, and took his leave. When about
ninety-seven victims had already suffered, Roche
came galloping into the town and ordered the
drums to beat to arms, as Vinegar Hill was
nearly surrounded by the king's troops, and
every man was wanted in the camp. At this
very moment the bridge was drenched with
blood, and blood was streaming down the pikes
of the four executioners, who had a man aloft
struggling on their spears. When the ill-news
arrived, the assassins hurried off, leaving three
prisoners to be led back to the jail. Dixon,
returning, ordered more Protestants from the
jail, prison-ship, and market-house to be
murdered in batches of from ten to twenty.
Six Protestants out of ten had been
impaled, when Father Corrin came running up
to save the residue. Finding all his
arguments useless, the priest at length took off his
hat, and desired the murderers to kneel down
with him and pray for the souls of the poor
prisoners before they put them to death. Having
got them in this attitude, he said:

"Now pray to God to have mercy on your
own souls, and teach you to show that kindness
towards these men which you expect from
Him in the hour of death and in the day of
judgment."

He then rose and led the Protestants back to
prison unopposed. The massacre ceased about
eight o'clock in the evening; out of forty-eight
in the market-house, only nineteen had escaped.

In the mean time, the camp on Vinegar Hill
was gradually being surrounded by General Lake
with infantry, militia, and cavalry. A vast mob
of Shanavests, Caravats, United Irishmen, White
Boys, and Peep o' Day Boys, were occupied
in murdering prisoners, dancing, drilling, feasting,
and praying, within sound of the big bell
stolen from Enniscorthy. Father Murphy, the
tigerish priest, was there in his vestments and
cross-belt, and Father Clinch, the giant, on
the bony white horse. There were thirteen
guns, the largest a six-pounder, on the hill, and
many carts full of shot. The rebels also used
round stones and hard clay balls instead of iron
or lead, and manufactured a rough kind of
gunpowder that lost its force after a few days.
Their pieces they fired with lighted sods of turf
and wisps of straw.

Even at the moment that Vinegar Hill was
surrounded, the rebels continued their cruelties.
Flying parties were continually bringing in fresh
victims to be shot, piked, or slashed with
scythes outside the windmill wall; men still
alive were thrown into marl-pits or hurled into
burning houses. Catholics shot their oldest
neighbours and friends who had sought shelter in
their lofts or pigsties. The houses of the gentry
were attacked by night by men who, covered
with feather-beds as shields, drove in the doors
and windows with sledge-hammers. Often the
rebels were repulsed by the desperate fire kept
up by Protestants driven to despair, and fighting
for their wives and children. In one horrible
instance a beautiful girl was shot in mere wantonness
and thrown into a shallow grave, her golden
hair remaining outside the earth and blowing
to and fro for days, till some rebels in pity gave
the mangled body a more complete interment.

The war had become a religious war. There
was fear on the one side, and hatred on the
other. The Protestant yeomanry plundered and
burnt houses with or without reason. They
flogged and shot any one they met, and often
on the most unreasonable suspicions. They
hung and burnt the rebels by scores whenever
they had an opportunity. The Hessians
in particular were as cruel as mercenaries
generally are. They repeated in Ireland the
atrocities which had before rendered their name
detestable in Scotland and in America. The
volunteers were brutal, and hardly less ferocious
in their cruel retaliations.
The rebels under the green flag on the windmill,