absence. It is now ascertained that the
insurgents knew what arms every gentleman
possessed, and where he kept them. Cadgers,
tramps, and beggars swarmed about the lodges
and houses of the gentry. Pedlars, umbrella-
menders, clock-doctors, and itinerant musicians,
all strangers, endeavoured to gain entrance to
the farm-yards and kitchens unobserved by the
owner of the mansion or his family. They had
always stories of the American war to tell, and
spoke of an American expedition to Ireland as
a settled thing. They cleverly, and in the most
artful way, inquired respecting the habits of the
family and their friends. Scarcely a day passed
without a visit from persons evidently Americans,
with a horse and gig. They dashed up
the avenue, and insisted upon exhibiting to the
"ladies" of the household shawls, laces, patterns
of cloths, stuffs, and tweeds, as salvage from
imaginary wrecks. While one engaged the
attention of the inmates, the other examined
the approaches to the house and out-offices. I
detected one of these fellows sketching a plan
of the rectory-house, a place memorable for the
repulse of a rebel attack in " '98." He had
jotted down carefully the bearings of a road
through a defile, and under a " rath," or barrow,
close to the house. Ladies feared to walk in
their own grounds without male protection, and
our dogs were admitted to pleasure-gardens
from which before they had oeen rigidly
excluded. Strangers came in, we could not tell
from whence or how—whether through hedges
and over fences, or by the lodge gates with the
connivance of the keeper. To lock the gates
was no effectual means to keep them out. They
seemed to know all the "gaps" and "short cuts"
about the farm. Occasionally the lodge people
said they were threatened witn violence it they
did not allow the tramps to pass. It was a
time of vague fear and general insecurity.
Several of our leading families left for Dublin
or large towns, the gentlemen returning to
guard their homes or advise their tenantry.
The constabulary patrolled the public roads, and
passed through demesnes all the night through
in bodies of six or eight or ten, but they could
not be everywhere. The very precautions taken
to prevent alarm created apprehension.
Nothing of value was ever taken. The oats, wheat,
hay, and potatoes remained safe and untouched
in farm-yard or field. Yet every night there
was an alarm, often, as it seemed, unfounded.
One night we thought the hour of rising had
actually come, for fires flared up here and there
in our wood and plantation; we heard the
tramp of feet and voices of men. In the morning
we were told "the bird-catchers were here
last night, and kindled straw to daze and
bewilder the wood guests."

It might be true or false, for no one desired
by minute inquiries to show he distrusted those
about him. But the rope which daily hauled up
our Union Jack was cut and taken away, our
young ash-trees were carried off, our dogs were
maltreated, and our cattle came galloping from
the fieIds to the homestead in the dead of the
night. This undecided worry continued until
the latter end of October, when the police were
making numerous arrests. The seizure of the
Irish People and the leading conspirators had
baffled the plans for insurrection. Drilling
ceased, and we met no more of those bands of
silent men, while our nights were passed without
disturbance or alarm. But numbers of
young men, labourers or farm-servants, suddenly
disappeared. They had departed for America;
but how they obtained tie passage-money I could
not ascertain. Many a sorrowing mother has
since come to me to "write a line" for her to
her son at New York or Chicago, who seemed to
have forgotten "her and the old home." In the
autumn of 1866 only two attempts were made,
to our knowledge, to recommence drilling and
marching. But the numbers present were greatly
diminished, and the "Fenians" were plainly of
the very lowest grade. The constabulary seemed
to think that the danger was greater than in the
preceding year, but we saw no reason to believe
such was the case. We supposed that if a rising
was really intended, it would take place when
the harvest was gathered in, and before the
farmer sold his produce to pay his November
gale.

Nothing calculated to excite apprehension
occurred; the peasants pursued their usual
avocations, there was almost a total cessation of
tippling and drunkenness, and there was little
or no crime. The people did not like to speak of
the Fenians. The few whom you could draw
out condemned and cursed them as robbers,
who would pillage the poor farmers first, and
who were under the ban of priest and minister.

The autumn had passed away, and Christmas
was at hand without a ripple of trouble on the
surface of our societv, when suddenly we were
shocked and alarmed by the discovery that we
at least had been sleeping over a mine, and
that a trusted man in my own service was
suspected to be one of the chief leaders of
rebellion. It was for him I sought in vain at
Tallaght.

THE DEVIL'S TRAINING SCHOOL.

THERE are a great many subjects of the day
concerning which men hold, and must be
expected to hold, divided opinions. There are
some questions on which a man of moderate
views will hesitate to speak, because he
hesitates to think, decisively. There are not a
few, for instance, who rejoice that it does not
rest with them to determine to what extent
the franchise ought to be lowered, or what
should ultimately be done about church rates.
Indeed, this is a period when there is so much
to be said upon both sides of most questions,
that it is with something almost like a sensation
of relief that we approach a subject about
which we feel strongly, and can express
ourselves without doubt or hesitation. The
impropriety of allowing children to be used as
deputies, by adult beggars, is such a subject.