“Oh, no, no!” she exclaimed; “I'll not state it--I'm beginnin' to fear what your intentions is this night; and as for me, I'll not help you, by act or word, to fulfil that fearful intention. Oh, change it!” she exclaimed; “there has been too much blood shed in the country; too much bad work every way in it. Call upon God to change your hearts, and go home to your families while your hands isn't yet stained with blood! You all know what the law is when it's let loose upon you, as it ought be, whenever you commit murther, and take away your fellow-crature's life. I forgive Purcel and his sons; it was neither him nor them that took my boy's life, but the sogers--oh, no!” she exclaimed, “I see what you're bint on, and why you are sittin' to try the unfortunate Purcels. I read it in your black fearful looks, and dark faces--may God turn your hearts, and forgive you for bringin' me here this night! Surely you ought to know that one like me, who suffered so much by the spillin' of blood, wouldn't wish to see my fellow-cratures sufferin' as I am? Oh, no! I forgive the Purcels, and why shouldn't you? an' the worst prayer I have for them is, that God may forgive them and change their hearts!” Alas! that we should say so, but the truth is, that no charge against Purcel, how bitter and malignant soever it might have been, could have occasioned such a deep-seated and uncontrollable vengeance against the unfortunate family, as the language of this extraordinary and great-minded peasant woman. There was nothing further said at the moment, every attention was paid to her wishes; in accordance with which a party of men and horses were sent to convey her safely home. When she was gone, a neighbor of hers, who was present, came forward, and made an accurate and affecting statement of the circumstances connected with the death, or, as he termed it, and as we fear it was the murder of her son.