"Ye appear to be a dacent sort of fellow," said one of the bailiffs. "Now, look here. If ye get us 'ut of thus, we'll gev ye a pun' note, and as much dhrink as ye can bear." Here there was a cheer. "The tide goes down at four o'clock," said Jem, "and thin for eight minits there is a dhry passage across the rocks. Thin ye must run for yere lives, and we'll be here to help ye. But how the divil did ye get there? We never saw but a goat there afore." "That's a matter for the Queen's Bench, my fine fellow. God help those who brought us here!" "Amen!" cried all devoutly, lifting their ragged hats. Then they departed to make the needful preparation. After they had half mounted the declivity, one was sent back. "The gintlemin who are going to resky ye," he said, "wants to know if ye have any conscientious objection to be brought over on the Sabbath; or wud ye rather remain where ye are till Monday?" He was answered with an oath, and went away sadly. He was scandalized by such profanity. "Sich language on a Sunday mornin', glory be to God! What is the world comin' to?" Four o'clock came, and the entire village of Kilronan turned out to the rescue. There were at least one thousand spectators of the interesting proceedings, and each individual of the thousand had a remark to make, a suggestion to offer, or a joke to deliver at the unhappy prisoners. And all was done under an affectation of sympathy that was deeply touching. Two constables kept order, but appeared to enjoy the fun. Now, in any other country but Ireland, and perhaps, indeed, we may also except Spain and France and Italy, a simple thing is done in a simple, unostentatious manner. That does not suit the genius of our people, which tries to throw around the simplest matter all the pomp and circumstance of a great event, and in the evolution thereof every man, woman, and child is supposed to have a personal interest, and a special and direct calling to order and arrange and bring the whole proceeding to perfection. Now, you would say, what could be simpler than to fling a rope to the prisoners and let them walk across on the dry rocks? That's your ignorance and your contempt for details; for no Alpine guides, about to cross the crevasses of a dangerous glacier, with a nervous and timid following of tourists, ever made half the preparations that Jem Deady and his followers made on this occasion. Two stout fishermen, carrying a strong cable, clambered down the cliff, and crossed the narrow ledge of rock, now wet with seaweed and slippery. They might have gone down, with perfect ease, the goat-path, sanded and gravelled, by which the bailiffs were carried the night before; but this would not be value for a pound and the copious libations that were to follow. They then tied the cable around the bailiffs and around themselves, and proceeded on their perilous journey. With infinite care they stepped on rock and seaweed, shouting hoarse warnings to their mates; but all their warnings were not