When the Rebellion first broke out in the North, Lord Castlehaven had immediately repaired to Dublin and offered his services to the lords-justices. They were declined with the reply that “his religion was an obstacle.” After the prorogation of Parliament, as we have seen, he retired to his house in the country. Then, coming again to Dublin to meet a charge of corresponding with the rebels which had been brought against him, he was arrested by order of the lords-justices, and, after twenty weeks of imprisonment in the sheriff’s house, was committed to the Castle. “This startled me a little,” says Castlehaven--as it well might do; for the state prisoner’s exit from the Castle in Dublin in those days was usually made in the same way as from the Tower in London, namely, by the block--“and brought into my thoughts the proceedings against the Earl of Strafford, who, confiding in his own innocence, was voted out of his life by an unprecedented bill of attainder.” Therefore, hearing nothing while in prison but rejoicings at the king’s misfortunes, who at last had been forced to take up arms by the English rebels, and knowing the lords-justices to be of the Parliament faction, and the lord-lieutenant, the Marquis of Ormond, being desperately sick of a fever, not without suspicion of poison, and his petition to be sent to England, to be tried there by his peers, being refused, he determined to make his escape, shrewdly concluding, as he says, that “innocence was a scurvy plea in an angry time.” Arriving at Kilkenny, he joined the confederacy, as has been related. From this time the war of the Confederate Catholics was carried on with varying success until the cessation of 1646, and then until the peace of 1648, when the Confederates united, but too late, with the Marquis of Ormond to stop the march of Cromwell. A SWEET SINGER: ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER. She sang of Love--the love whose fires Burn with a pure and gentle flame, No passion lights of wild desires Red with the lurid glow of shame. She sang of angels, and their wings Seemed rustling through each soft refrain; Gladness and sorrow, kindred things She wove in many a tender strain. She sang of Heaven and of God, Of Bethlehem’s star and Calvary’s way, Gethsemane--the bloody sod, Death, darkness, resurrection-day. She sang of Mary--Mother blest, Her sweetest carols were of thee! Close folded to thy loving breast How fair her home in heaven must be! THE COLPORTEURS OF BONN.