beating, Generals Lake, Dundas, and Wilford,
flanked by Colonel Campbell's light infantry,
charged up the hill on the south-east side, while
Johnson's brigade mounted from Enniscorthy,
bayonets gleaming and plumes in a line.

In vain Father Murphy's horsewhip and
Father Clinch's brandished scimitar; in vain
priestly hands waving to heaven with crucifix
and breviary; in vain consecrated scapular and
endless benedictions. The cannon flashed out
fitfully, but could not stop the swarming
redcoats. Pikemen lined the hedges and walls
one after the other with the true Irish courage,
and fought from dyke to dyke. The fire was
hot and fast, and the rebels fought with despair
till they fell dead in the trenches, or were thrust
back with bayonets over the broken walls. The
agile barefooted stripling leaped and ran faster
than the cavalry horses, and were so tenacious
of life that the soldiers swore they withstood
bullets through the lungs, and cutting their
heads off only half killed them.

The night before General Johnson had
been attacked by the rebels, who had advanced
in close columns from Enniscorthy, covered by
swarms of sharpshooters, and had driven them
back to the supporting columns which had halted
on an eminence where the general commanded
them. The peasants were astonished at the shells,
and much terrified at the scattering fragments
and the carnage that they occasioned. " They
spit fire on us," they cried. "We can stand
anything but those guns that fire twice."
Whenever the round-shot plunged into the
face of the hill, the rebels scrambled for them,
shouting and laughing. At last a shell from a
howitzer dropped, and fifty of these frieze coats
were fighting for it, when it burst and
scattered death among them.

This was the night before the general attack.
At daybreak, Johnson forced the rebels from the
height, hedge by hedge, back into Enniscorthy.
After halting an hour, to allow the attack on
the hill to employ the main body of the enemy,
the general pushed his columns into the town.
The rebels made a stubborn resistance, the pikemen
fighting for every street, and the fire being
hot from every window; every yard and alley
was contended for. One rush of pikemen
captured a six-pounder in the square before the
court-house, but it was instantly retaken, and the
bridge swept of the rebels. The light infantry
hesitating to scale the hill, Johnson called on
the County of Dublin regiment to do the work,
on which they gave three cheers, and, led on by
Colonel Vesey and Lord Blaney, pressed up the
steep hill-side, reaching it as the other columns
crowned it, and pushed the great scattered host
of grey-coats back headlong over the brow.

The day was lost to Father Murphy's army.
The men with the talisman scapulars were
falling by twenties under the sabre and the
bayonet; wigs, pikes, swords, muskets,
battered hats, and torn great-coats strewed the
hill. The great host had melted in a thaw of
terror. The rebels were in full retreat down
the section of the hill left open by
Needham's absence. Pistols were flashing at
fugitives, along miles of country road bleeding men
were crawling over bog and fen to die in lone
corners, under stone walls, and in bramble
coverts. The green flag was down at last from
the windmill. The great bell was dinted with
cannon-balls.

As for Father Clinch, on the big white horse,
the Earl of Roden chased him for a mile, received
his fire, and then shot him in the neck. An officer
riding up, gave the giant priest the coup de
grace. He had his vestments in his pocket,
besides forty guineas, a gold watch, and a snuff-box.

Soon after this rout, Bagnal Harvey and many
other rebel leaders were hung, and Father John
Murphy was taken prisoner at an alehouse.
When he was brought before the general's
aide-de-camp, he struck a fierce blow with his
fist at Major Hall, who had irritated him by
some question. In his pocket were found some
letters from Wexford ladies, begging him to save
the lives of their husbands and relations. He
was hanged the same day, his head fixed on the
market-house at Tullow, and his body burned.

Three of the chief leaders were gibbeted on
Vinegar Hill, near the windmill. Their bodies
were, from feelings of compassion, hidden in
large pitched sacks. The rebellion was now all
but stamped out. In August, General Humbert
and twelve hundred French landed at Castlebar,
but they were driven to surrender at Ballinamuck.
From that time the rebels became mere
wandering thieves, hunted down, and burnt out
wherever they could be met with in arms.

So ended an unhappy and useless rebellion,
which cost several thousand lives, and left the
Irish less free than it had found them.

Persons who had opportunities of watching
this disastrous outbreak have left on record
one or two deductions which are not
uninteresting. It was found that the village bullies,
famous for their prowess with the shillelagh,
were by no means in the front ranks in the
various engagements, while the quiet steady
men distinguished themselves by great bravery.
It was also noticed that while the fanatic
and stricter Catholics were often cruel, treacherous,
and unrelenting, the rakes and drunken
scapegraces were frequently generous and merciful.
Of the two thousand Irish priests, it
should in justice be mentioned that less than
twenty figured as leaders in the rebel camps,
and that, in spite of all the cruelties and atrocities,
outrages on women were very rare during
the whole rebellion.

FREDDY'S AUNT.

"You are the luckiest fellow in the world,
Freddy," said I, flinging back a letter, with
that smile of sour congratulation which greets a
friend's good fortune.

"One of them," said Freddy, modestly,
crumpling up the letter, and stuffing its
enclosure—a bank-bill for three hundred pounds—
into his waistcoat-pocket with provoking
indifference.

"At what do you return this model relative