a moment and dropping into the native, "it's no time for talking at all. There's some of yez armed already; there's a gun for any mother's son here that will use it for the people, and swear on the book to leave the world with one tyrant less upon it. Come up, boys, and take the oath, and shame to them that hang back." Instantly there was a forward movement in the audience, as with shouts and cheers they pressed towards the speaker. He held aloft a book and recited the oath in a loud voice. As far as I remember it bound every one to be a loyal member of the society organised in that district to put down the tyrant and free Ireland from the English yoke. It bound him, without question, to obey any command or perform any service demanded of him in the cause. It pledged him to utter secrecy as to the existence and actions of the society. And it doomed him to the penalty of death for any breach of his vow. In fours, each with a hand on the book, the company advanced and took the vow, each man's name as he did so being written down and publicly announced. Even the two sentinels were called from their posts and replaced, in order that they might join. Finally the leader cried,-- "Is that the whole of ye?" "No," cried my custodian, pushing me forward with the butt-end of his gun. "There's a boy here, plaze your honour, captain, that we took this day. It's him that gave Larry Dugan his death that night we visited Knockowen." The leader turned me to the moonlight and scrutinised my face sharply. "I had forgotten him," said he; "he should have been left behind.--That was a bad business at Knockowen." "'Deed, sir," said I, plucking up a little heart at the mildness of his manner, "I did no more than your honour would have done in my shoes; I defended the women. And as for Larry Dugan, it was a mischance he was hit." A hurried consultation took place among the chief of the confederates, during which I was left standing in suspense. It was against me that I had been present and overheard all this business of the oath. That, it was evident, weighed more against me than the part I had taken in the defence of the Knockowen women. Were they to let me go now, the society would be at the mercy of my tongue. It would be simpler, as some advised, to put me out of harm's way then and there with an ounce of lead in my head. Presently the consultation ended. "Give him the oath," said the leader; and the book was held out to me, while a couple of guns were pointed at my head. It was an ugly choice, I confess. Little as I understood the nature of the work in hand, I had gathered enough to know that the oath sold me body and soul to men who would stick at nothing to gain their end, and that in taking it I became not only a traitor to the king, but an accomplice of murder and outrage.