a slapping able fellow, that ought to be a Captain long ago--before he left Spain. The excisemen got up--not much worse o’ the wear--an’ Misther Morris ordthered me to remove the cars an’ horses, which we did to one side o’ the yard. He then called to the men to aim at the door when they got the word, and desired the Excisemen to pull out their lantherns, one of which he took, an’ threw the light on the door. “Now men:--ready--present--fire!” says he. Slap went a dozen bullets into the door. “Load!” was given, an’ the officer, with the Excisemen, went forward,--the men marched afther him,--ordthered to butt the door with their muskets; which they did: but neither the balls nor the butting had any effect whatever; for the door was as thick double oak as ever was; an’ well made too--one o’ the owld times.” The prisoners smiled with satisfaction, as the Corporal observed upon the door. “Well,” continued O’Callaghan, “we were dthrawn up a little distance from the house again, an’ another volley was sent right at one o’ the windows o’ the first floor. In went the wooden shutthers in smithereens about the ground, an’ slap comes a shot out at us. “Load!”--again--and again. Six men were ordthered to take post on our flank with the Sergeant, and the others with Misther Morris himself:--away went six bullets more into the same window, from the Sergeant’s party, while ours was ordthered to pop one by one, as Misther Morris directed. Another shot was now fired at us from the window, an’ knocked poor Hall head over heels.” “What! is Hall killed?” demanded the Serjeant and the men of the guard. “‘Faith! poor fellow he is--or all as one; the ball enthered his breast, an’ he was taken away to the surgeon with very little hopes o’ life.” At this information of the Corporal’s there was a general murmur of regret.