One evening in the winter of 182—, a large party of the officers of the —— dragoons were dining together in the best room of the Green Dragon, the principal inn of ——, on the southern coast of Ireland. The district around was under military law, but though occasional outrages marked the wild and turbulent spirit which reigned, since their arrival in their present quarters no disturbances had taken place of sufficient magnitude to cause them serious alarm; and it appeared probable that, notwithstanding the efforts of the agitators to excite tumult, men’s passions would subside, and affairs resume their wonted, if not happy, current. To men under such circumstances, without danger to animate, or occupations to interest them, dinner is a meal of much importance, and the young cornets or captains were busily employed in dispelling their _ennui_ according to the received rules of social indulgence. Some two or three of the neighbouring gentry had been invited to join the mess; and as the generous wine passed quickly round, many a loud laugh and many a light jest told the gay and unconstrained merriment of the festive meeting. There was, however, one individual at the table, who, though he apparently shared in their mirth, and though no trace of uneasiness on his brow betrayed the working of the mind within, looked upon the proceedings of his young friends and their guests with feelings of an anxious nature. Their commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Warenne, feared that he could perceive, amid the joyousness of their good-humoured revelry, impending discord and confusion.