They won't move me, mother, when they see me; for that would kill me--that would be to murder a dying man." The father made no reply, but rushed towards the door, which he opened and closed after him with more ease than he had expected.

The storm, in fact, was subsiding; the small hard drift had ceased, and it was evident from the appearance of the sky that there was likely to be a change for the better.
It would, indeed, appear, as if the Divine Being actually restrained and checked the elements, on witnessing the cruel, heartless, and oppressive purposes of man.

But, what a scene presented itself to O'Regan, on going forth to witness the proceedings which were then about to take place on this woeful day! Entering the northern end of this wild collection of sheelings was seen a posse of bailiffs, drivers, constables, keepers, and all that hard-hearted class of ruffians that constitute the staff of a land agent upon occasions similar to this.

Immediately behind these followed a body of Orange yeomanry, dressed in regimentals, and with fire-arms--each man carrying thirty rounds of ball cartridge.

We say Orange yeomen advisedly, because, at the period we speak of, Roman Catholics were not admitted into the yeomanry, unless, perhaps, one in a corps; and even out of ten corps, perhaps, you might not find the ten exceptions.