Some of the inhabitants were too poor to contribute to the Fenian breakfast. The operations in the principal hotel, were of this kind: The three lower sitting rooms were filled by men, who awaited their turn to pass into the bar-room. Sentries with loaded revolvers stood in front of the bar; the landlord stood behind it filling his liquors as long as bottles and jars held out. When these were drained he was escorted to his cellar by other guards with revolvers loaded and capped and assisted by willing “helps” to carry his liquid stock to the floor above. When all was drained, his cellar and bar empty, he was thoroughly cursed for not having more liquor on hand; and, at point of bayonet, driven to make haste and “help get breakfast ready.” All the butcher’s meat and cured hams in the hotel were cut up and cooked; coffee was made in pails and tubs and carried to a rising ground west of the village, on which O’Neil and his officers had posted the main body of their force. All the bread was soon consumed, and the flour in the hotel had been made into more bread and that eaten up. The landlord having drained off his liquors and given his eatables to his voracious visitors thought to rest himself, as he could do no more. The click of revolvers seconded the command to go and purchase. His faint reminder that he had drawn no money wherewith to purchase additional supplies, was stopped by curses, by pointed bayonets, and the language of menace which informed him that he had credit at the stores. Thither he went under a dancing, rollicking escort, and was ordered not to look miserable, but to be happy, to laugh and join in the hilarious joy now that, “degraded Canada was liberated, and from that day was a free country!” He shouldered a sack of flour; and, pricked with bayonets, trotted under his burden, laughing as best he could; assuring the liberators of Canada, that he was happy to see them; happy to see that day; overcome with joy in fact; oh, yes! very happy! hoorah for the Irish Republic! “You may as well not publish names,” said one of the villagers who with me listened to this recital; “when Colonel Peacocke and the army leaves here, some of those Buffalo men may come over and give us a licking.” During the plunder of the bar-room and cellar, the landlady, a delicate young person, and servants, with Fenian “helps” were cooking, baking, and boiling. Next day, during the absence of the Fenians at Limestone Ridge, this landlord, like most other residents on the Canada shore got the females of the family removed to the American side for safety. Other contributories to Friday morning’s breakfast were treated and employed similarly to the hotel keeper, though not all. Wherever O’Neil was, his men were moderate, merciful, obedient.