On the previous day messengers came along this road and warned the inhabitants that the Fenians were to march that way to Port Colborne and to Port Robinson to capture the Welland canal. The farmers, whose houses are nearly all on the wayside, if their land touch it, removed their families and the best of their horses and cattle that day. Henry Angur, aged 73, afflicted with gout and moving only on crutches chose to remain. He is an intelligent veteran from the war of 1812, and the rebellion of 1837-38. He said his family wanted him to go in the waggon, but, “he had been in two wars and would risk a third.” O’Neil had been well informed of the inhabitants lining in that district, of the horses they possessed, with the number and names of their sons. On entering this house he looked the old man in the face and said: “Your name is Henry Angur?” “Yes, sir, Henry F. Angur; what may your name be, if you please?” “My name is O’Neil. I am chief in command of fourteen hundred men, (Mr. Angur feels sure he gave that number), now in possession of your premises, your farm and country from the ferry to Ridgeway; where are your sons?” “I have no sons at home, sir,” “No sons at home? nonsense! where is Jim?” “Well, sir, I don’t know where Jim have gone.” “When did you last see him?” “Last see him? well sir, Jim went yesterday to the mill with a grist, and I suppose he heard ill news and so have not come home.” “What ill news do you think he heard?” “The same as we heard here, I suppose.” “What was that?” “It was that the Fenians had landed, and to begin with had killed Dr. Kempson of the Ferry.” “But Dr. Kempson is not killed, nor injured, don’t you know that no harm has happened him or any one else, from us?” “I have heard since that he was not killed; but what, sir, are you going to do with us?” “Tell me first Mr. Angur, have you any Johnny Bulls around here?” “Johnny Bulls, sir? I don’t exactly comprehend.” “Yes, you comprehend quite well; have you seen any red-coats here about? any of Queen Victoria’s soldiers? or of Canadian Volunteers? any armed men? any cavalry? artillery? infantry?” “No, sir, I have not; I have not indeed, sir.” “Very well, that will do for the present. Captain” (to an officer of the staff) “you and a guard remain in charge of this house and this old man. Make every person prisoner you find.” O’Neil, after that conversation proceeded in the direction of the railway station at Ridgeway, but did not go farther, it is supposed, than about Hoffman’s tavern, the “Smuggler’s Home,” a mile in advance of Henry Angur’s house and about two miles short of the station.