The night was agreeable, and nothing worth recording took place until they had come about five miles on the side of ------, when a loud voice ordered the coachman to stop. “Stop the coach, sir!” said the voice, with a good deal of reckless and bitter expression in it; “stop the coach, or you are a dead man.” Several pistols were instantly leveled at both coachman and guard, and the same voice, which was thin, distinct, and wiry, proceeded--“Keep all steady now, boys, and shoot the first that attempts to move. I will see what's to be had inside.” He went immediately to the door of the “Fly,” and opening it, held up a dark lantern, which, whilst it clearly showed him the dress, countenances, and condition of the passengers, thoroughly concealed his own. The priest happened to be next him, and was consequently the first person on whom this rather cool demand was made. “Come, sir,” said the highwayman, “fork out, if you please; and be quick about it, if you're wise.” “Give a body time, if you plaise,” responded the priest, who at that moment had about him all the marks and tokens of a farmer, or, at least, of a man who wished to pass for one. “I think,” he added, “if you knew who you had, you'd not only pass me by, but the very coach I'm travelin' in. Don't be unaisy, man alive,” he proceeded; “have patience--for patience, as everybody knows, is a virtue--do, then, have patience, or, maybe--oh! ay!--here it is--here is what you want--the very thing, I'll be bound--and you must have it, too.” And the poor man, in the hurry and alarm of the moment, pulled out one of the baronet's pistols. The robber whipped away the lantern, and instantly disappeared. “By the tarn, boys,” said he, “it's Finnerty himself, disguised like a farmer. But he's mid to travel in a public coach, and the beaks on the lookout for him. Hello! all's right, coachman; drive on, we won't disturb you this night, at all events. Gee hup!--off you go; and off we go--with empty pockets.” It happened that this language, which the robber did not intend to have reached the ears of the passengers, was heard nevertheless, and from this moment until they changed horses at ------ there was a dead silence in the coach. On that occasion one gentleman left it, and he had scarcely been half a minute gone when a person, very much in the garb and bearing of a modern detective, put in his head, and instantly withdrew it, exclaiming, “Curse me, it's a hit--he's inside as snug as a rat in a trap. Up with you on top of the coach, and we'll pin him when we reach town. 'Gad, this is a windfall, for the reward is a heavy one.--If we could now manage the baronet's business, we were made men.” He then returned into the coach, and took his seat right opposite the priest, in order the better to watch his motions, and keep him completely under his eye. “Dangerous traveling by night, sir,” said he, addressing the priest, anxious to draw his man into conversation.