benevolence of disposition--for, alas! he was incapable of being benevolent in any practical sense--that, unless among the bigoted officials of the day, there existed no very strong disposition to hand him over to the clutches of the terrible statute which he had, good easy man, been prevailed on to violate. In the meantime, the formidable body who had saved Reilly's life and his own dispersed, or disappeared at least; but not until they had shaken hands most cordially with Reilly and the priest, who now found themselves much in the same position in which they stood previous to their surprise and arrest. “Now,” said Reilly, “the question is, what are we to do? where are we to go? and next, how did you come to know of the existence in this precise locality of such a body of men?” “Because I have set my face against such meetings,” replied the priest. “One of those who was engaged to be present happened to mention the fact to me as a clergyman, but you know that, as a clergyman, I can proceed no further.” “I understand,” said Reilly, “I perfectly understand you. It is not necessary. And now let me say--” “Always trust in God, my friend,” replied the priest, in an accent quite different from that which he had used to the peasantry. “I told you, not long ago, that you would have, a bed to-night: follow me, and I will lead you to a crypt of nature's own making, which, was not known to mortal man three months ago, and which is now known only to those whose interest it is to keep the knowledge of it silent as the grave.” They then proceeded, and soon came to a gap or opening on the left-hand side of the road through which they passed, the priest leading. Next they found themselves in a wild gully or ravine that was both deep and narrow. This they crossed, and arrived at a ledge of precipitous rocks, most of which were overhung to the very ground with long luxuriant heather. The priest went along this until he came to one particular spot, when he stooped, and observed a particular round stone bedded naturally in the earth. “God-blessed be his name--has made nothing in vain,” he whispered; “I must go foremost, but do as I do.” He then raised up the long heath, and entered a low, narrow fissure in the rocks, Reilly following him closely. The entrance was indeed so narrow that it was capable of admitting but one man at a time, and even that by his working himself in upon his knees and elbows. In this manner they advanced in utter darkness for about thirty yards, when they reached a second opening, about three feet high, which bore some resemblance to a Gothic arch. This also it was necessary to enter consecutively. Having passed this they were able to proceed upon their legs, still stooping, however, until, as they got onwards, they found themselves able to walk erect. A third and larger opening, however, was still before them, over which hung a large thick winnow-cloth.