stations, with their little garrison of from six to
eight men. The constabulary barracks are
nothing more than ordinary houses, usually one
of a number, and in no way distinguished from
the rest. The police barrack at Tallaght is a
weak building, incapable of resisting determined
assailants. On the night of the 5th of March
there were fourteen constabulary in the
barrack, when an excited messenger gave
information that the Fenians had risen and were
marching on the Tallaght road. Almost at
the same moment the sound of a very large
number of advancing men was heard. The
inspector who commanded the constabulary
ordered his men to move out and face the enemy.
These could be heard and seen advancing like an
irregular moving wall. It seemed as if the earth
had risen five or six feet high, and were pressing
forwards. When the constabulary challenged
the crowd, no reply was given. Some order
was issued to the insurgents, and then a volley
came from the rebel ranks, irregular and
scattered, but the light of the rifles pointed
out the insurgents to the constabulary.
These had knelt down, and the insurgents' fire
passed over them without wounding a man.
Then the constabulary delivered their fire, all
together, like one shot. There was silence for
an instant, then terrific yells rent the air, and
screams of men in agony. The insurgents
recoiled and broke at once. I can compare their
breaking up to nothing but that of a "school"
of mackerel. They ran everywhere, jostling,
impeding, fighting each other, in anxiety to
escape. You could hear the pike-staves and
revolvers falling on the ground, as they were
thrown away in the panic.

The dark mass melted away, but on the
ground lay two dying men: one clutching at
the gravel, and screaming out, "O men! O
men!" The other was desperately wounded,
and insensible. Two others were found next
morning. They had been thrown into a ditch
to die. The bullets of the constabulary did
their work well; no one can tell how many
were "hurt badly" by that one volley. I know
there have been several clandestine burials and
unhonoured graves; and I believe that there
are still many sorely mangled lying in outhouses,
a terror to their friends.

During the remainder of the night, or rather
in the dark morning, the insurgents, who had
fled to Tallaght-hill, slipped off by ditches,
hedge-rows, and mountain-torrent beds. When
light dawned, there were not more than three
hundred men and boys together, the most timid
of the lot, who had feared even to attempt
escape. The military captured with ease one
hundred and eighty-six of these miserable
wretches, half dead with fear, and utterly worn
out with hunger and fatigue. They were
marched into Dublin, and "paraded" in the
Castle yard. Some begged for water, others
for a morsel of bread; many threw themselves
down on the flags to get a moment's rest. A
more dismal and disgusting spectacle was never
seen. There my duty ended. I had not found
the man I was ordered to seek out, though he
was at Tallaght-hill. How and where I found
him I may tell hereafter.

BEAUX AND BELLES.

MEN of any ambition are so fond of titles.
We have known eccentric folk who have
christened their children Lord Arthur, or Sir
Thomas, thinking thereby to secure to their
progeny a legal title, through the church if not
through the state. An American, who purchased
in Leicester-square a countship for five pounds,
was so proud of the distinction, that he boasted
he would defend his right to it at the expense of
his life. Titles, too, have been given in sport,
and in some instances have even been so
bestowed by kings and queens. Skill in archery
was even held deserving of public honour, though
only exercised as an amusement. In a pamphlet
edited by Sir William Wood (who was knighted
on account of his proficiency in the toxopholite's
art), published in the seventeenth century,
and entitled The Bowmen's Glory; or, Archery
Revived, we have an account of the many
signal favours vouchsafed to archers and archery
by Henry the Eighth, King James, and Charles
the First. William Wood was marshal or
captain of the Regiment of Archers attached
to the Artillery Company. There was, also,
a Society of Finsbury Archers. Even as
late as Charles the Second, the crown showed
favour to archers. In honour of Katherine,
the queen consort, the marshal of the society
wore a badge of silver with the circumscription
"Reginæ Katherinæ Sagitarii," and the arms
of England impaled with those of Portugal.
The device upon it was that of an archer
drawing a bow, in relief. This ornament, which
weighed 25 oz. 5 dwts., was presented to him
by the contribution of Sir Edward Hungerford
and others. It covered the whole breast of the
archer, as he is represented in a very scarce
old print in Harding's Biographical Mirror,
1795. A handsome cap and feathers grace the
archer's head, while in his right hand he holds
his bâton of office.

A curious monument was erected to the
memory of Sir William Wood, in the church of
St. James, Clerkenwell, by the Toxopholite
Society. Here is the inscription:

     Sir William Wood lyes very neare this stone,
     In's time in Archery Excell'd by none.
     Few were his Equalls. And this noble Art
     Has suffered now in the most tender part.
     Long did he live the honour of the Bow,
     And his Long life to that alone did owe.
     But how can Art secure? or what can save
     Extreme old age from an appointed grave?
     Surviving Archers must his Losse lament,
     And in respect bestow'd this monument:
     Where whistling arrows did his worth proclaim,
     And Eterniz'd his memory and name.

His reputation did not make Wood vain; for in
his book on archery we only meet with two
references to himself. He describes a grand procession