Frank had summoned his honour and fair fame to his side; but what do they know of these things in the bogs of Ireland? thought he—His oath—ay, that was a tickler; but isn’t it like a custom-house oath—And then his poor mother. Frank yielded to their solicitations. The next point was to make his escape; but that was soon arranged,—he was dressed in a suit of his elder sister’s clothes, and under the cloud of night they set off on their return home. They had a weary journey travelling to Bristol, where they embarked on board the packet for Waterford, and were safely landed on Erin’s green isle once more. They had travelled a long day’s stage on their way home, and thinking themselves safe, were sitting in their lodging-house refreshing themselves with a cup of tea, when the sergeant who had enlisted Frank came into the house, and presented a billet to the landlady. He had been ordered to remove to another station, and was so far on the way with his party. He knew Frank’s mother the moment he came in, and coming over inquired for her family, and when she heard from her son. The poor woman was so confused, that she did not know what she was saying, and stammered out some nonsense, which, along with the petrified appearance of the daughters, raised a suspicion in his mind. Frank, in his female dress, sat holding down his head,—‘Is this your daughter Peggy that’s looking so bashful?’ said the sergeant, putting his hand out to raise up Frank’s chin, when he saw enough of the face to understand who it was. Frank saw he was detected, and dropping any attempt to disguise himself farther, lifted the stool on which he was sitting, to knock the sergeant down, as the only means of effecting his escape; but the sergeant had beckoned in his party, who were standing at the door, and he saw that resistance would be madness, and therefore submitted to his fate with the best grace he could. He was sworn in a deserter and committed to jail, having previously resumed his own dress, and was thus far on his way to Dublin, accompanied by his mother and sisters, who were determined, as they said themselves, to follow him to the _end of the world_. What became of poor Frank afterwards I never heard, but happening to be in Chatham about two years after, I inquired at one of the sergeants of the depot, and found his story perfectly correct. I had even the curiosity to go to the house where they had effected his disguise, the landlady of which corroborated the story so far as his mother and sisters being in the house, and the soldiers coming there after him when he was gone.