Many a time, when these men--military-militia-yeomen, or whatever they call them, are sent out by this same Sir Robert, the poor fellows don't wish to catch what they call the unfortunate Papish-es, and before they come to the house they'll fire off their guns, pretinding to be in a big passion, but only to give their poor neighbors notice to escape as soon as they can." In a short time they reached widow Buckley's cabin, who, on understanding that it was Reilly who sought admittance, lost not a moment in opening the door and letting them in.

There was no candle lit when they entered, but there was a bright turf fire "blinkin' bonnilie" in the fireplace, from which a mellow light emanated that danced upon the few plain plates that were neatly ranged upon her humble dresser, but which fell still more strongly upon a clean and well-swept hearth, on one side of which was an humble armchair of straw, and on the other a grave, but placid-looking cat, purring, with half-closed eyes, her usual song for the evening.
"Lord bless us! Mr.Reilly, is this you?
Sure it's little I expected you, any way; but come when you will, you're welcome.

And who ought to be welcome to the poor ould widow if you wouldn't ?" "Take a stool and sit down, honest man," she said, addressing Fergus; "and you, Mr.Reilly, take my chair; it's the one you sent me yourself, and if anybody is entitled to a sate in it, surely you are.

I must light a rush." "No, Molly," replied Reilly, "I would be too heavy for your frail chair.
I will take one of those stout stools, which will answer me better." She then lit a rush-light, which she pressed against a small cleft of iron that was driven into a wooden shaft, about three feet long, which stood upon a bottom that resembled the head of a churn-staff.

Such are the lights, and such the candlesticks, that are to be found in the cabins and cottages of Ireland.