A detachment of invaders broke off from the main body in passing Mr. Molesworth’s house, a brick villa with white columns supporting a verandah and standing among a thicket of trees, twenty or thirty yards from the road. They knocked loudly with the butt end of their rifles. Mr. Molesworth, his wife and family of young children were asleep. He looked upon the intruders from an upper window and asked what was wanted. They ordered him down to open the door, else they would break it in. He again asked who they were and what was wanted? The reply was that they were the Fenian army landed to liberate Canada; they wanted chunk; they wanted sugar. Mr. Molesworth not being acquainted with slang did not know that chunk and sugar meant money. He asked if they wanted bread. Their reply was “yes; bread, chunk, sugar.” He went down stairs, collected all the bread and cheese the house contained, carried it up, and lowered it out of the window. Still they cried for chunk and sugar. Presently officers with drawn swords and revolvers in hand drove that portion of the mob away ordering them to fall into their places on the road. Mr. Molesworth felt relieved by their absence, but was much puzzled to think what such a crew could want with sugar. Either these returned or others came and once more there was the cry, “chunk! sugar!” “I have given all the bread, everything eatable in the house,” responded the engineer. “We want money,” rejoined one of the marauders. But fortunately for that defenceless household, Fenian officers again called away, or forced off these men.