From what is here stated, it must be obvious, that no more appropriate name than that of "Fenian" could be given to the organization which now holds the destiny of Ireland in its hands, and which has ramified itself throughout almost every portion of the habitable globe.

We have already observed that the selection of this name was judicious in more than one relation. In the first place, it was far removed from that of any of the well known cognomens which had characterized so many of the noted revolutionary associations that had already failed in Ireland, and, in this respect, was strong; being free from any unpleasant reminiscences; while, from the fact of its import not being generally known to the masses, it stimulated enquiry on the part of the curious or weak nationalists which resulted in the most salutary consequences. The rarity of the name led to newspaper expositions of it, and moved the inquiring patriot to look into Irish history in relation to it; and in this manner a knowledge of much of the ancient greatness of Ireland became the common property of those who were formerly but slightly acquainted with such lore. The result was, thousands of the Irish became interested in relation to the past of their race; for, in connection with this name there was that which was calculated to arouse the spirit of patriotism within them and lead them on to a further perusal of the annals of their country.

It is evident, then, that no common appelation could have been fraught with such beneficial results; as there would have been nothing connected with it to stimulate enquiry or research. Repealers, Irish National Leagues, Whiteboys, Rockites, United Irishmen, &c., all had their day, and carried their meaning upon the surface; so that it was really necessary to give the new organization some occult, comprehensive and characteristic name, that would separate it in this aspect from all the Irish revolutionary bodies that had preceded it, and place it en rapport with the great past of the nation which was the grand receptacle of its traditions and source of its pride. Here, then, we leave this part of the subject, without presuming that we have thrown much more light upon the matter than has already been recognized by those who have at all looked into it; for it must, we think, be obvious to most Irish nationalists, that the energies and sentiments of their patriotic countrymen, could never have been grouped so successfully under any of the appelations just named, as they have been under that of "Fenians"—given, as we have already perceived, to the great national army of Ireland during the days of her early glory and power, and which alone represented the nation as a whole.

It is not our province to dwell here upon the infancy of the Brotherhood on either side of the Atlantic, or to enter into the various difficulties and unpleasant circumstances to which it has been subjected by alleged want of true patriotism and economy on the part of some of its founders. Sufficient to say, that through all such alleged obstructions it has struggled into the greatest and most powerful organization that has ever existed in any age of the world, and is, to-day, the mightiest and most invincible floating power that has ever influenced the destinies of any people. Its friends are numbered by millions and its members by hundreds upon hundreds of thousand. To its ranks belong soldiers, statesmen and orators, men of large pecuniary means and cultivated minds; cool heads and strong arms, and many guiding spirits who need but little light save that which shines within them. In addition, the sympathies of America and of every generous nation on the face of the earth, are with it; so that it has triumphed in advance, in a measure; for, backed by such influences, and actuated, as it is, by impulses so pure and holy, not a solitary doubt can obtain in relation to its ultimate success. True, that there are those who are thoughtless or traitorous enough to designate it as antagonistic to religion, and subversive, of the established order of things; but these, for the most part, are persons who reason through their pockets or their prejudices, and who are devoid of any thorough recognition of those great principles which are applicable to nations as well as to individuals and which are based upon the just doctrine, that resistence to tyrants is obedience to God—persons who are so methodical and patient under the sufferings of others, that they would pause to measure the precise length of rope that, was necessary to reach a drowning man. In the day of Ireland's triumph, such people, will cone to confusion; as will those who have withheld from her, in the period of her sore travail, the pecuniary aid; which they could have well afforded out of their ample means, with a view to relieving their kinsmen and suffering fellow countrymen from the grasp of a tyrant the most inexorable that ever drew breath.

Were the Fenian organization confined entirely to Ireland, and did no active outside sympathy obtain for that unfortunate country the day of her redemption might be postponed to an indefinite period. So completely are all the resources and defences of the land in the hands of the English, that it would be difficult for the natives to make any lengthened or effective stand against the usurper. England has her, navy and her army to operate against any rising of the inhabitants, at a moment's warning; while every office in the kingdom, of the slightest importance or trust, is in the hands of her minions. Again, among some of the recreant sons of the soil, she has, alas too ample scope for the use of her accursed gold; and thus it is; that to cope singled handed with her against such fearful odds, would involve oceans of blood, both on the field and on the scaffold. When, however, we come to dwell on the fact, that outside and beyond her control or reach, another body of Irish, which has been aptly termed a nation within a nation—when it comes to be understood, we say, that on the shores of free America a mighty and invincible Brotherhood has been built up, actuated by every sentiment of hostility which fires the breast of the most implacable of her enemies to-day, and that has for its aim and end an object in common with the people of Ireland at her own doors, then we begin to perceive how harrassed and powerless she must be. Neither her famine, fire nor sword, can avail her here. Secure beneath the ample folds of the glorious stars and stripes of the great Republic of America, and fired with the love of free institutions, and taught in the great principles of freedom by the liberty loving American people, this mighty band of exiles, in connection with their children born beneath the folds of the American flag, are steadily preparing to join fierce issue with her and test, upon the open field, the prowess she has so often set forth as superior to that of any other nation. This is what now disables and paralyses her. Ireland is, for the time being, beneath her heel; but what of the warlike hosts that loom in the western horizon and may soon rush down on her like a wolf on the fold, and wedge her in between two hostile walls? This is the great strength, of Ireland at the present moment. Her energies are not walled in by the ocean or a British fleet She is alive and active in other lands, and so powerful outside her own borders, that there is no such thing as circumscribing her influence or operations in so far as they relate to her struggles for independence. It is, then, from America that she is to obtain her most effective aid; and such being the case, it behooves the Irish nationalists on American soil to be true and steady to the great purpose in which they are now so ardently engaged; for so far, fortune has smiled upon them. The American people sympathize with them and feel that while they are aiding them to regain the long lost freedom of their country, they are bringing to the dust the very self-same enemy that sought, by stealth and the most cowardly means, to overthrow their own Commonwealth, and leave the Union a hopeless ruin before the world. It is this which now hangs a millstone about the neck of the British government, and which must ultimately develope itself in active sympathy with any people who have for their object the humiliation of the skull and cross-bones of St. George, on this side of the Atlantic at least.

And so the ball rolls; hourly accumulating force and magnitude, and destined, at no distant day, to sweep in upon Ireland and hurl the invader from her shores. No power on earth can stay its onward course. The freedom of Ireland is the creed of millions. The young lisp it; strong men repeat it in every clime; and the old of both hemispheres murmur it in their prayers. In short, it has taken a hold of the Irish heart wherever a true pulse warms it to-day, and has so incorporated itself with the hopes and aspirations of the Irish of all lands, that fate itself must yield to its power and universality. Within the last few years it has become part and parcel of the education of the Irish people wherever they are found; whether beneath the burning zone, in temperate latitudes or at the frozen poles; so that its ultimate success is beyond any possible contingency; from the fact that there never was a sentiment so widely spread and so religiously cultivated and cherished, that failed to accomplish all that it would attain.



CHAPTER VII.

While the children of Ireland were engaged in defending the flag of the Union during the late civil war, and sealing with their blood their fidelity to the great Republic, they were, also, acquiring a knowledge of arms and a warlike hardihood, which tended, on the cessation of hostilities, to render the Fenian organization more formidable than it could possibly have become, had peace pervaded the land from the inception of the Brotherhood to its triumph at Ridgeway. All through this gigantic struggle the hand of the Irish patriot and exile was prominently observable. Not a field had been fought from the firing of the first gun at Fort Sumter to the surrender of Lee's army, on which their blood had not flowed in rivers. Look at Murfreesboro, Corinth, Perrysville, Iuka, Antietam, Chickahomany, Winchester, Fort Donaldson, Island Ten, Shiloh, Lexington, Bull Run, Carnifex Ferry, the Rappahannock, the Mississippi, the Cumberland, the Potomac and Fredericksburg, "where one-half of Meagher's Brigade are still encamped under the sod," and we have evidence of the truth of this assertion, the most ample and complete. Amidst these scenes of terrific carnage, the warlike genius and matchless personal bravery of many a distinguished Irishman were eminently conspicuous; while the latent fires that had previously lain dormant in the breast of others, leaped forth into a glorious conflagration, that commanded the admiration of every true soldier and evoked the recognition of the Commonwealth at large. Amongst this latter class stood pre-eminently forward, the present President of the Fenian Brotherhood throughout the world—GENERAL JOHN O'NIELL, a brief sketch of whom we introduce here for obvious reasons, drawn from authentic records in our possession, as well as from the current newspaper literature of the day:

"To the Irish reader," observes a contemporary, well informed upon this subject, "and especially to that portion of our people, who are conversant with the past history of their country, and feel a patriotic pride in its glorious records, as well as a fervent hope for their renewal in the future—there is no name fraught with memories more inspiring than that of O'Neill—the princely house of Ulster, the champions of the Red Hand, who, for centuries, in the struggles of the nation against the Saxon invader, led the hosts of their people to victory, and only succumbed at last when poison and treachery, and chicane had accomplished what force failed to effect; for their valor was powerless against the dagger of the assassin, as were their honesty and open-heartedness against the bad faith of England's perjured tools. Like many a noble and ancient Irish house, its scions are to-day to be found scattered through the world, in every walk of life. But though its banner no longer floats over embattled hosts, there is magic still in its associations; and when men speak of the O'Neill, the Irish heart leaps fondly towards the historic name and the proud recollection of the days when Hugh and Owen stood for the rights of their people and native land, and dealt the assailants of both those sturdy blows which so well justified their claim to the blazon of the 'Red Hand.'

"In our own day, too, the old blood has vindicated its inherent force and purity, and has found a worthy representative in the subject of our present sketch—GENERAL JOHN O'NEILL,—whose name, in the future history of the Irish race, will be as inseparably linked with the struggles of the present generation for national independence, as are those of his ancestors with the efforts made by our people in the past against English tyranny and usurpation. As this noble and patriotic Irishman is now occupying so much of the public attention, and his political conduct meeting with that cordial endorsement which is a just tribute to his bravery and patriotism—whether on the bloody fields of the South, routing a Morgan, or assuming the command of his colonel, or, with thirty men repelling the attack of a regiment; or, with his gallant band of Irish soldiers, chasing the 'Queen's Own' at Ridgeway—a brief review of his career will not be devoid of interest to all who desire to preserve a record of those who have deserved well of their country. Within the limits of such a sketch it would be impossible to do adequate justice to the character of a man like General O'Neill, and we can only assume to glance at the many attestations of his bravery and gentlemanly bearing which should have a public record, as they are from men of high position, and are of importance in illustrating the estimation in which he has always been held by his superior and brother officers. No man can produce a more unsullied one, or one better calculated to confirm his title to the high position in which his countrymen have placed him.

"General O'Neill was born on the 8th of March, 1834, in the townland of Drumgallon, parish of Clontibret, county Monaghan, Ireland. At his birth he was an orphan, his father having died a few weeks previously. The early part of his existence was spent with his grandparents in his native place. Bred up in a country, every hill and river and plain of which was linked in story with the deeds of the mighty men of old, it is not to be wondered at that the mind of young O'Neill seized with avidity every incident of the past connected with the condition and history of his fatherland, or that the bias of his future life was given by his meditations as he rambled along the slopes of Benburb, or traced the victorious steps of his ancient sept, through the classic region where his schoolboy days were passed. That it should be so is only natural; for he is a kinsman, as well as namesake, of the great Hugh O'Neill who, with his fearless followers, swept over Ulster and defeated so many of England's greatest generals, and brought the heads of some of her pets to the block. And there is no doubt but that some of her favorites of to-day shall be made to bite the dust ere the General has done with them.

"General O'Neill is a man of calm temperament, but a firm will, which, when excited, however, is stern and inflexible; uniting with this a good education and gentlemanly address, with a mind bold, independent and decisive. His person partakes of the character of his mind for if the one never succumbed in the council, the other never bent in the field. Few could imagine from his modest exterior the latent, fire and energy which burn in his bosom. His manner is as unassuming as his mind is noble; quiet, yet impervious to flattery or laudations, he seems at the same time to pay due regard to popular opinion, without in the least permitting it to influence him in the discharge of his duties.

"While he was yet quite young, the family of General O'Neill emigrated to the United States, and his mother settled at Elizabeth, N.J., where she still resides. He did not follow them until 1848, when he was fourteen years of age. Having devoted some time to the completion of his studies here, he determined to engage in commercial pursuits, and for some time travelled as agent for some of the leading Catholic publishing houses. In 1855 he opened a Catholic Book Store in Richmond, Va., and while residing there became a member of the 'Emmet Guard,' then the leading Irish organization in that section of the country. The inclination thus manifested for the military profession soon proved to be the ruling passion in the mind of the young Celt,—checked only by the repugnance of his family towards the soldier's life; for, in 1857, he gave up his business and entered the Second Regiment of U.S. Cavalry—a regiment which has since furnished the most distinguished officers who have figured on both sides during the late war.

"In the Regular Army, O'Neill rose steadily by his good character, bravery and aptitude, no less than by his education and invariable gentlemanly conduct. But though he has since filled positions of high responsibility, he has often declared that one of the most pleasurable emotions of his life was experienced when, for some meritorious act, he received, from his commanding officer, his warrant of Corporal.

"At the outbreak of the war, the regiment with which he was serving was recalled from California, and on the organization of the army under McClellan, was attached to the Regular Cavalry Division, which took part in the principal battles in the campaign of the Peninsula, during which O'Neill was in command of Gen. Stoneman's body guard. After the withdrawal of the army from the Peninsula, he was dispatched to Indiana, where he was retained for some time as instructor of cavalry, drilling the officers of the force then being raised for the defence of that portion of the Union against the incursions of the Confederate guerillas. He subsequently entered the 5th Indiana Cavalry as Second Lieutenant, and served with that regiment, during 1863, in the operations against the Southern leaders in Kentucky, Tennessee, Indiana and Ohio. In these expeditions, which, whether in the nature of scouts, reconnoisances or advances, generally took the shape of sharp running fights, Lieut. O'Neill's skill and daring not only attracted the attention of his commanding officers, but further enlisted the enthusiasm of the men, insomuch that, when one of those sorties was ordered, the first question asked was always—'Is O'Neill to lead it?'—and if the answer was in the affirmative, no matter how jaded the men might be, volunteers in any number were ready at once.

"There is no greater instance of personal bravery, or gallantry equal to any emergency, than that related by Archbishop Purcell, of Cincinnati, in his account of O'Neill's encounter with Morgan, the famous guerilla; and as many of our readers have not read the partial account given in Mr. Savage's 'Fenian Heroes and Martyrs,' it may prove of interest to them, as his encounter with Morgan is more generally spoken of than understood. Archbishop Purcell says:—

'There is a remarkably brave officer suffering from diarrhoea, contracted in a three month's chase after Morgan, now in St. John's Hospital, in this city—Lieut. O'Neill, of the 5th Indiana Cavalry. His mother resides in Elizabeth, New Jersey. Her adventurous boy enlisted in the regular army at the time of the Mormon excitement in Utah; was afterwards sent to California; was made Sergeant for distinguished services on the Potomac; employed on a recruiting tour in Indiana, and promoted to a Lieutenancy in the famous 5th Indiana cavalry.

'Respecting his encounter with Hamilton's rebel force, in May, the Indianapolis papers spoke of the exploit of Lieut. O'Neill, and a detachment of his company, as one of the most daring and brilliant achievements of the war. The Lieutenant has kindly furnished us with the following interesting account of the part he took in the defeat of Morgan. The authorities here have recommended him for promotion to the rank of Major.

'INCIDENTS OF THE FIGHT WITH MORGAN, AT BUFFINGTON'S ISLAND, ON THE 20TH OF JULY.

'On the night of the 19th, about 10 o'clock, Gen. Judah, with his cavalry and artillery command, left Pomeroy for Buffington. The General sent First Lieutenant John O'Neill, of the 5th Indiana cavalry, with fifty men, ahead, with instructions to try and open communications with the militia, said to be in close proximity to the island. The Lieutenant was delayed by losing the road during the night, and did not arrive till about an hour and a half after daylight. He then learned that the militia had been skirmishing with the enemy during the night, and that Gen. Judah's advance had been ambushed, the morning being foggy; and the General's Assistant Adjutant General, Capt. Rice, with some twenty-five or thirty men and a piece of artillery, and Chief of Artillery, Capt. Henshaw, had been captured and sent to Gen. Morgan's headquarters on the river road, some thirty miles ahead of him, on the enemy's left flank. The Lieutenant at once resolved to recapture what had been taken; and, with his Spartan band, kept steadily on. Several parties tried to stop him; but a volley from the "Sharp's" carbines of his boys invariably drove them back. At length he came on Morgan, with two regiments and a body guard of one hundred men. The Lieutenant halted his men suddenly, at an angle of the road, within one hundred and fifty paces. He gave the command "ready," and intended to have given them a volley; but seeing some of his own men in front, he did not fire, but commanded "forward," and dashed in amongst them. If he had fired, every shot must have told, he was so close. Morgan, with his two regiments and body guard, ran without firing a shot. All our prisoners were released, and about thirty of the enemy taken. Some were killed and wounded. The Lieutenant pursued Morgan about two miles clear off the field, and captured three pieces of artillery, which he carried off with him. This was the last of Morgan on the field. The Lieutenant cannot tell how many he killed or wounded, as his fight was a running one, extending over four miles; but the surgeon in charge of burying the dead and looking after the wounded, reported that most of both were along the river where O'Neill had been.'

"The above, from Archbishop Purcell, is an unquestionable testimony of the daring and audacity of the subject of this sketch in the field. The National Journal, in giving an account of the same battle, says:

'Lieutenant O'Neill, of the 5th Indiana Cavalry, now appeared by another road, with but fifty men, and charged two different regiments so desperately that they broke and left our captured guns, officers and men in our possession.'

"The Louisville Journal, after relating an instance of O'Neill's personal bravery, says:

'Lieutenant O'Neill is the same who, about two weeks ago, while out with Col. Graham, on the Tennessee side of Cumberland, with twenty men as an advanced guard, came up with Hamilton, having two hundred men drawn up in line—charged and ran him thirteen miles, and with his own hand, while ahead of his men, killed five—two of them with the sabre.'

"To go into detail, and give a minute account of the many instances of gallantry, pluck and determination displayed by the subject of our sketch, would be beyond the scope of our present purpose, as they, at the same time, would only tend to multiply instances, without lending any additional proof. But we cannot, as it directly bears on his letter of resignation, with accompanying letters of endorsement from distinguished Generals, pass over that singular and noble proof of unexampled bravery—his assuming the command of his Colonel Butler, when the latter showed signs of cowardice.

"The affair took place at Walker's Ford, on Clinch River, in East Tennessee, where the division to which O'Neill's regiment was attached was stationed, to dispute the passage of the Southern troops, which in large force occupied the adjacent country. O'Neill had only a few days before rejoined his command, after the illness incurred in his chase after Morgan, and was at breakfast when the alarm was given that the enemy had surprised the advanced guard, and were attacking in force. Springing on his horse, he rallied the company of picked men he commanded, and for a long time held the advancing forces of the enemy in check, to give time for others to form line of battle. But the enemy were rapidly getting in rear of the Union troops, and O'Neill fell back on the main body of his regiment, just in time to hear his Colonel cry out, 'Oh, God! all is lost! save yourselves, men, the best way you can. Nothing is left us but retreat!' 'Not by a long sight!' shouted O'Neill, as, sword in hand, he dashed in front of the mob of soldiers, upon whom panic and the example of their commander were rapidly doing the work of disorganization. 'Men,' continued he, turning to them, 'all of you who mean to fight, fall in with me.' The effect was almost miraculous. About one hundred and fifty of the fugitives rallied, and with these he drove back the advancing columns of the enemy, saved the day, and, though severely wounded in the action, remained master of the field.

"Of this attack, a correspondent of the Indianapolis Daily Journal, of January, 1864, says:

'The rebels, finding we were retreating, determined to drive us into the river. About three hundred mounted men came over the hills, charging Company "A," 65th Indiana, and three companies of the 5th, commanded by Col. Butler and Capt. Hodge. Our boys began to waver. The Colonel tried to rally them to no effect, when O'Neill rode up and took command. Taking a Henry rifle from one of the 65th boys, he commenced firing, at the same time yelling at the men to charge them, which they did. For about five minutes it was the most frightful scene I have ever witnessed. Out of the three hundred Confederates, only about twenty went back mounted, the balance being killed, wounded, and dismounted. A rebel officer, afterwards taken, admitted the loss of twenty killed and forty wounded in the charge. This so effectually checked them, and convinced them that a charge would not pay, that we very easily held our ground until the wagons and guns had crossed the river. But our brave Lieutenant, O'Neill, received a wound in the thigh while we were making our last stand. He rode out all day, never seeking shelter, cheering his men. When other officers had given up all as lost, he replied, "Not by a long sight." He met with a hearty response from the men. We afterwards learned that we were fighting three brigades, among them the "Texan Rangers."'

"There is no nobler instance of daring or pluck, or of presence of mind, or decisiveness of character, equal to any crisis, than this. But what is the sequel? The Colonel, narrow minded as he was cowardly, was piqued at young O'Neill's gallantry in repelling the attack, which at once stamped himself with cowardice, and lowered him, as a consequence, in the estimation of his brother officers. After the battle he sent a report of the officers and non-commissioned officers whom he recommended for promotion, omitting the name of O'Neill. This was a direct insult to the man who displayed the most bravery, and had saved them from a watery grave, a fiery death, or, worse than all, an ignominious surrender. It at once aroused all that was stern in his nature—to have such a coward offer him an insult. He went to the Colonel, and demanded if it was true that he had sent the names of certain officers to the Governor for promotion, and noncommissioned officers for commissions over him, and omitted his name altogether. The Colonel replied in the affirmative. 'Then,' said O'Neill, 'I shall never serve another day in your regiment.'

"We give these particulars in detail, as well as his resignation, not only on account of its boldness, but as some people try to put a different construction on the fact of his sending in his resignation at that time. Conformably with his determination, he went to his quarters, where, after a fortnight, he prepared his resignation, and sent it to headquarters. In the interim, the Colonel sent one day to know if he would drill the regiment. O'Neill sent back to know if it was an order or a request; on being assured it was the latter, he complied. He was expecting to be arrested every day; but the Colonel was too much of a coward, as he was afraid the consequences would be rather unpleasant. After a few weeks, his resignation was sent to headquarters, with letters of disapproval—but endorsing his complaints, and testifying to his bravery and efficiency—from Gens. Sturges and Stoneman. Comments on these letters would be superfluous, as they speak forcibly for themselves.

"CAMP NEAR PARIS, KENTUCKY, April 7th, 1864.

"Sir: I have the honor herewith to tender my resignation as First Lieutenant of Company 'I,' 5th Cavalry, 90th Regiment Indiana Volunteers, on account of promotions in the regiment, which have placed men over me whom I cannot consistently serve under. Some of them, Captains, have been Sergeants in the same regiment since I have been First Lieutenant; and while I have a high regard for these officers personally, I can never allow myself to be commanded by them in the field.

"I served in the regular army nearly four years, in Utah, California, and on the Peninsula: as private, Corporal, Sergeant, and acting-Sergeant-Major, and have been in the regiment, as Lieutenant, sixteen months.

"The enclosed copies of letters from Generals Hodson, Judah and Stoneman, with others from the present Colonel of my regiment, and the former, Colonel Graham, recommending me to Governor Morton, for the position of field-officer in one of the regiments being organized in Indiana, will show that I am not undeserving of promotion in my own regiment, and that I have some cause to be dissatisfied with not receiving it, and with having officers placed over me whom, in point of military knowledge and experience, I cannot regard as my superiors.

"I certify, on honor, that I am not indebted to the United States on any account whatever, and that I am not responsible for any government property, except what I am prepared to turn over to the proper officer on the acceptance of my resignation, and that I was last paid by Major Haggerty to include the twenty-ninth of February, 1864.

"Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

"JOHN O'NEILL, First Lieut., Co. 'I,' 5th Ind. Cav.

"Rather a bold epistle this! He tells his commander squarely he will not serve under officers whom he considers his inferiors in military knowledge. We shall now give the accompanying letters to which he refers, from Generals Sturges, Judah and Stoneman, which furnish unquestionable proof of his ability and military capacity. These letters, from men of fine military experience, are very high references of O'Neill's ability. The following is that from Major-General Stoneman:—

"HEADQUARTERS 23D ARMY CORPS, March 8th, 1864.

"I knew Lieut. O'Neill well on the Peninsula, and as a brave and worthy officer, in whose judgment and capacity I had the greatest confidence. I hope he will receive the promotion to which his merits entitle him, that of a field-officer in a colored regiment.

"GEORGE STONEMAN, Major-Gen., Com'g. Corps.

"That from General Judah is equally as commendatory. If the one refers to his bravery on the Peninsula, the other testifies equally to his daring during the war:—

"HEADQUARTERS SECOND DIVISION, 23D ARMY CORPS, In camp near Mossy Creek, Tenn., March 7th, 1864.

"It gives me pleasure to state that, from personal observation, I deem Lieut. John O'Neill, of the 5th Indiana Cavalry, one of the most gallant and efficient officers it has been my duty to command. His daring and services have been conspicuous, and I trust he may receive what he has so ably merited—his promotion.

"H.M. JUDAH, Brig.-Gen., Com'g. Division.

"The following endorsement, written on the resignation by General Sturges, when forwarded to the headquarters, shows that if merit, military and personal, could meet with its reward, Lieut. O'Neill should get speedy promotion:—

"HEADQUARTERS CAVALRY CORPS, PARIS, KY., April 7th, 1864.

"Disapproved and respectfully forwarded.

"This is an excellent officer—too valuable, indeed, to be lost to the service. He was severely wounded near Tazewell, under Colonel Graham, last December, and is estimated as one of the best officers of my command. This is not the only resignation which has been offered on account of the promotions of inferiors having been made in the 5th Indiana Cavalry over the heads of superiors, based upon political or other considerations, and altogether regardless of merit. By this system junior and meritorious officers find themselves cut off from all hope of advancement, and compelled to serve subordinate to others for whose qualifications they can entertain no respect.

"While, therefore, I disapprove his resignation for the public good, I would respectfully urge that some policy be initiated or recommended by which officers can see the way open for their advancement according to merit.

"Respectfully,

"L.D. STURGES, Brig.-Gen. Com'g.

"The following was the reply from Headquarters:—

"HEADQUARTERS DEPARTMENT OF THE OHIO, KNOXVILLE, TENN., April 16, 1864

"Respectfully returned from this Headquarters, Cavalry Corps, to Lieut. John O'Neill, 5th Indiana Cavalry.

"There appears to be no remedy for the evil referred to by General Sturges.

"By command of

"MAJOR GEN. SCHOFIELD.

"R. MOORE, Ass't. Adj't. Gen.

"Such attestations of the bravery, military skill and high moral character of General O'Neill, coming from his companions in arms, from the public press, and from Generals of experience and high position, form a record of which any man might be proud. Comment on them is unnecessary, as they speak forcibly for themselves. Of his noble spirit, decisiveness in the hour of danger, ability, pure character, and gentlemanly bearing, we have produced overwhelming testimony; but as he is now before the public in so very prominent a manner, it is necessary that the people should know minutely his every act and the nature of the man under whose leadership the Irish Nationalists in America are about to renew the good old fight for loved Erin's disenthralment. No matter whether on the field or in the drawing-room, his calmness of deportment and gentlemanly bearing are the same. The simplest child he would no more offend than the most powerful man. Uniting with such gentleness and heroic bravery, precise military knowledge, and a pure patriotism, may not Irishmen hope that in him they have found the man who is destined to lead them on to victory and liberty. In whatever sphere he moves, he is universally endeared to all; for

'In him is the heart of a woman, combined With a heroic life and a governing mind.'

"In the movement on Canada, in 1866, Gen. O'Neill sacrificed a business which, in a few years, would have made him a wealthy man. But he did so without hesitation; for he loved his country, and had pledged his life to her service. With the contingent raised by him in Tennessee, he proceeded to Buffalo, where, finding himself the senior officer, he assumed command of the troops there assembled, and, in obedience to the orders he had received, crossed the Niagara river, at the head of six hundred men, on the night of the 31st of May, and raised the Green Flag once more on the soil of the enemy. On the following evening, receiving information that the British forces were marching against him to the number of five thousand, in two distinct columns, he resolved to fight them in detail, and by a rapid march got between them. On the morning of the 2d of June, at Ridgeway, he struck them under Booker; and, though the enemy out-numbered his force four to one, routed them signally. Falling back on his original position at Fort Erie, he there learned that the United States Government had stopped the movement at other points, and arrested its leaders. Under the circumstances, nothing more could be done, at that time; and he was reluctantly obliged to re-cross the Niagara, and surrender to the United States forces. That he only did so under the pressure of necessity, is attested by his offer to the Committee in Buffalo to hold his ground, as his own report of the battle of Ridgeway attests, in which he simply says:

'But if a movement was going on elsewhere, I was perfectly willing to make the Old Fort a slaughter pen, which I knew it would be the next day if I remained; for I would never have surrendered!'

"At the Cleveland Convention of the Fenian Brotherhood, in September, 1867, General O'Neill was elected a Senator of that body; and having been chosen Vice President on the resignation of that office by James Gibbons, Esq., he succeeded President W.R. Roberts, on the resignation of that gentleman, Dec. 31, 1867.

"We have thus briefly sketched the principal incidents of General O'Neill's career, and, in conclusion, may venture to say that a more stainless, or meritorious, could scarcely be presented to the public. His whole history incontrovertibly illustrates as noble, determined and daring a character as ever led a brave but enslaved people to victory.

"We could supplement this with various other official documents and accounts, serving, if such were possible, to illustrate still further the proud daring and exalted spirit of this worthy son of an illustrious past; but shall, at this particular point of our story, content ourselves with what has just been said. We might, were we so inclined, introduce, also, various other Irish names that shone forth with unrivalled splendor during the late war, and point to the thousands upon thousands of Irish rank and file that, on numerous fields, piled up ramparts of dead around the glorious flag of the Union; but such would not serve our purpose here, as we are restricted in relation to the task before us; and as the fact of the exploits and the bravery of hosts of our loyal countrymen are known to the government and people of this Republic. Sufficient to say, however, that amongst all those of our race who fought and bled in defence of the North, and the integrity of the Commonwealth, there was not to be found one individual who evinced more profound judgment than he in handling the forces at his command, or more cool daring, or instances of personal bravery, as well as that tremendous and overwhelming dash, which gained for Ney the proud appellation, 'the bravest of the brave?' and placed the Marshals of France amongst the foremost in history.

"From out of this fierce civil contest, then, it is obvious from all that we have just said, that Fenianism, in its military aspect, received the largest and most important accessions. At the close of the conflict, thousands upon thousands of veterans joined its standard; and thus, in an incredibly short period, its warlike character became intensified, until, at last, the organization on the American continent loomed up before England with an aspect so threatening and a purpose so apparent, that she instantly set about putting her house in order, and began to glance in the direction of making some cunning, though paltry, concessions to Ireland.

"If, however, the military circles of the Brotherhood were distinguished by the accession of many brave and patriotic soldiers, at the juncture already referred to, the organization, in its civil aspect, was not less fortunate or noticeable. Led triumphantly through some of the most difficult phases of its existence, by such self-sacrificing and noble patriots as Colonel W.R. Roberts, of New York, its late President, and James Gibbons, Esq., of Philadelphia, its present Vice President—than whom two more disinterested and sterling Sons of the Sod do not exist—its basis enlarged and strengthened, we say, by such men as these, and the able and truehearted Senators that surrounded them, the Brotherhood, at the close of the war, was in a condition sufficiently exalted to attract to its centre many of the ablest soldiers who had fought on the side of the Union, and who, with their numerous and respective followings, were ready to evince their love of liberty and republican institutions further, by resuming their swords and striking home for the freedom of poor, down-trodden Ireland, against a tyrant the most infamous that has ever existed, and to whom America owes a debt of vengeance, that, under any circumstances, cannot fail to be one day repaid with tenfold interest.

"And so this grand confraternity of patriots prospered and became the greatest and most powerful that has ever appeared upon the theatre of human existence. To be sure, in a body so numerous and all but ramified throughout every portion of the habitable globe, there have been some unworthy members, who fell before the love of gain, or British gold; but, then, and with pride we say it, taking the gigantic proportions of the organization into consideration, and the temptations to sin which have been so constantly placed before it by that blood-thirsty assassin, England, it stands, by comparison, pre-eminently pure above any other similar revolutionary body that has ever obtained in either hemisphere, or in any age of the world. Up to the present hour, under the protection and guidance of a Divine providence, it has surmounted every difficulty that has beset it. It has outlived whatever of treason or mismanagement obtained in its own bosom; it has survived the cruel calumnies and falsehoods of a traitorous and subsidized press, and the machinations of that dangerous English element that sometimes steals into high places, and which has so often interfered with the true interests of America within her own borders, as well as touching her foreign relations. These and many either untoward influences it has surmounted; until, now, it stands upon a pedestal beyond the reach of danger; not only from its great inherent strength and virtue, but from its all but incomprehensible ubiquity, and positive existence in every land and clime. How futile, then, the efforts of its enemies to crush it either by ungenerous legislation, or through the propagation of falsehood. Fenianism is a power founded upon the immutable principles of truth and justice; and is, therefore, indestructible. Consequently, until it has achieved the grand and holy objects that it has set before it, it must win its way to triumph, step by step, if needs be no matter what the magnitude or the number of the difficulties that beset it."



CHAPTER VIII.

Early as Barry was up on the morning following his introduction to the reader, he found Tom and Greaves in the bar-room, discussing one of O'Brien's favorite decoctions, which was averred to possess the virtue of giving a "fillip" to the lagging appetite, and attuning it to the healthiest possible breakfast pitch. Nicholas, although not addicted to early potations, was prevailed upon to join the party. During, the friendly conversation which accompanied this faithless libation to the Goddess of Health, Greaves observed that while he did not feel himself at liberty to speak freely in the mixed company of the preceding evening, notwithstanding what might have been termed his unfriendly insinuations in relation to Ireland, he was himself a true friend of Irish freedom; and, on all befitting occasions, an humble champion of her total and unequivocal independence of England. Here he produced a letter, from a secret pocket in the lining of his vest, which he handed to Tom for hasty perusal; remarking, at the same time, that he well knew to whom he was submitting it. A hurried glance at the contents induced O'Brien to open his eyes wider than they had been opened for some time, and to regard his companion with an almost bewildered stare!

"Sure enough, it's his handwritin, and it's as thrue as the sun," ejaculated Tom, as he folded up the letter and returned it to the owner, "and it's a different opinion both Nick and myself had of you last night, although sorry I am for it now; and there's my hand for you."

"What's up now?" retorted Barry, well knowing that O'Brien would never have offered his hand to Greaves, unless there were good reasons for it.

"Nothin' more," returned Tom, "beyond that we had formed a wrong opinion of our frind here, last night; for, instead of his bein' what I was half inclined to take him for, he cannot fail to be other than the right stamp, or he never could have that letther in his pocket."

"That's enough for me, Tom," replied Barry, extending his hand to Greaves, "for whoever you endorse is sure to pass muster, in this place, at least."

The conversation here became low and confidential; being interrupted only by an occasional customer who dropped in to take his "morning;" until, at last, breakfast was announced, and the soldier and Greaves, taking the hint, were soon snugly seated side by side in the little parlor of the preceding night, at a neat and comfortable table, smoking with some of the good things which so constantly characterized The Harp. O'Brien, from his other avocations, was unable to join them at the moment; so they both conversed freely on the topic that had just commanded their attention in the bar, and which referred to neither more nor less than the intended invasion of Canada by the army of the Irish Republic, then said to be preparing for a descent upon the Provinces, in the neighboring Union. Nicholas was unable to give any definite information upon the matter; as the authorities of the organization in the United States were very reticent regarding it, and Greaves himself appeared but little better informed. Barry, however, expressed the opinion that, if any man in Canada had thorough information on the point, it was Tom; although he himself had no very tangible grounds for making the observation, notwithstanding the strength of his surmises.

"Do you not belong to the organization yourself, and if you do, ought you not to be in possession of some facts on this all-important movement?" rejoined Greaves, "and if you are not a member, surely you are sufficiently true to Ireland to have been informed, to some extent at least, in regard to it, by your friend O'Brien, who is, I learn, a Centre here."

"Well, strange as it may appear," returned the other, "I don't belong to the Brotherhood, not having, yet had an opportunity to join it; and as for Tom, whatever my suspicions may be, I really am unable to say positively that he is in any degree connected with the organization; although I am sensible that his sympathies, like my own, lie in that direction."

"How is your regiment situated on this point," remarked Greaves, leisurely breaking an egg and commencing to chip the shell.

"A good many of my way of thinking," replied the other; "but, as you know, it is necessary to be cautious, as not only is the commanding officer a tartar, but most of the swords and sashes are of the same kidney. The fact of the case is, however, several of our fellows have deserted, and no doubt will join the organization in the States, and render good service to the cause there, in a military point of view."

"Why don't you follow their example and do something for your poor, down-trodden country," said Philip in reply, "seeing that now is the time she needs the service of all her children?"

"There is no necessity for my deserting," rejoined Barry, "for I have already applied for my discharge, which I expect to receive this very day; so that ere the sun sets, in all probability, I shall be a freeman."

Greaves became silent here for a few moments, as if revolving something in his mind, when, lifting his head again, he resumed the conversation by asking:

"Are strangers permitted to visit the Fort? If so, I should be very glad to take a peep at it this morning, as I shall have a few boars to spare before I can do any business, or rather before the parties I have come to see will be prepared to meet me."

"Why, not as a general thing, just now," returned Nicholas, "but I think you may be able to gain admittance if you are accompanied by me, who will, of course, vouch to the sentry for you."

"Then if you allow me," said Greaves, "I shall avail myself of your kind invitation, and cross the bridge with you after we have breakfasted, for I can well imagine that during a period when such rumors are afloat, the Commandant as rather chary of permitting strangers to enter his gates."

In this strain the conversation flowed until breakfast was ended, when the friends proposed to sally forth from the Harp, and wend their way to the point already mentioned. As Barry was leaving the bar-room, however, Tom whispered something in his ear, which appeared to puzzle him for a moment, but returning a keen glance of recognition, both he and Greaves passed out into the cool, fresh morning-air, and began slowly wending their way to the Fort.

There being as yet no special order about the admission of strangers, Greaves, with Nicholas by his side, passed the sentry without question, and proceeded to the canteen, which, early as it was, showed some signs of life. Here Barry introduced his new acquaintance to many of his comrades; but in such common place terms, as to attract no attention whatever on the part of any person. Being for parade, however, he was obliged to leave his friend in other keeping, for a short period, and so hastened to the barrack-room to prepare himself for his morning duties. During the interval of his absence, Greaves stepped out of the canteen, alone, and learning that the Colonel was speaking to some of the officers near the parade ground, made his way towards where the group was standing, and crossing the path of the Colonel as he was walking towards his quarters, accosted him in a manner which soon arrested the progress and attention of that officer, and brought him to a dead halt. The conversation was brief and rapid, while a slip of paper thrust into the hands of the Colonel, by Greaves, seemed to place both on a strange footing of recognition. So brief was the interview, that it was not observed by any individual in the garrison; and so quickly did Greaves return to the canteen, that his absence was scarcely noticed. Here Barry found him as he had left him, making himself agreeable to the soldiers; being more than liberal in paying for all they drank. As the bugle sounded for parade, he bid our young hero "good bye for the present," and leaving the Fort, proceeded to retrace his steps towards the town, or city, as it may be called.

When he arrived here, instead of returning to The Harp, he bent his steps in another direction, and entered a hotel that was in every relation the very antipodes of the establishment in which he had passed the night. Here, in every direction, were to be found the traces of an English spirit and blind adhesion to wretched and exploded traditions. In the office hung the portrait of the cruel Queen of England, and that of her defunct consort, whose injustice and pedantry were so snubbed by the illustrious Humboldt. Here, too, were to be seen the likeness of the—iron-hearted, it should have been—Duke, presenting a birth-day present, or something of the sort, to a moonfaced yonker that sat fair and plump upon the knee of its royal mother. In another corner was to be found a representation of the Prince of Wales, for whose head and face the engraver had done infinitely more than nature; while directly opposite stood, in a dark, heavy frame, the one-armed hero of the Nile, who owed so much of his fame to poor Emma Harte—the unfortunate Lady Hamilton, who, after having conferred the most serious benefits upon England, was permitted to starve, with her daughter, in a garret somewhere in or near Calais; while some of the spurious offspring of orange and ballet girls filled many of the highest offices in the land she had so often served.

In this establishment the subject of Fenianism was discussed as a leading topic, in a manner quite different from the style in which it was treated at the Harp. Here no voice was raised in its favor—no word of justification advanced in its behalf. Still, although its importance was ignored ostensibly, there were a nervousness and misgiving about some of those who conversed upon it, which showed that they were ill at ease. There seemed, in addition, to be some vague sense of insecurity preying upon them, which could only have originated in their want of confidence in themselves, or in some person or persons to whom were entrusted the gravest interests of the Province. This was the more obvious, from the fact, that, from time to time, mysterious and half-whispered enquiries were made, in reference to one particular individual, whose state of health or mind seemed at the moment to engross no ordinary share of the attention of the numerous guests that filled the bar or office, for the apartment was used as both.

Greaves listened with open ears to all that transpired, and, after inspecting the hotel register, took up a morning paper and seated himself in an arm-chair at his side. While engaged, as he feigned to be, in perusing the news, although actually endeavoring to catch every whisper that floated around him, he gathered, that, for the week or ten days proceeding, one of the most important functionaries in the Province, who, although a clever man, was sorely addicted to fits of intemperence, was now, while the country was convulsed with gloomy forebodings, regarding Fenianism, again passing through one of his prolonged and fearful drinking bouts, and totally unfit to pay even the slightest attention to the momentous business of his office. Already, it was averred, numerous dispatches, of the most vital moment, were lying unopened upon his table, where they were scattered, wet and stained with wine and debauch, some of them having, as it was urged, been obviously disfigured, in part, for the purpose, perhaps, of lighting cigars; while, pale, wretched and half insane, the miserable creature to whom they were addressed, reclined on a sofa by their side, jabbering to a few bloated boon companions, obscene jests and amusing anecdotes, through which the fire of his own native wit sometimes shot brilliantly, though but for a single moment. This, we say. Greaves gathered from the conversation around him, and as in one or two cases he perceived, on the part of the speakers, scarcely any desire to preserve a tone of secrecy on the subject, he felt pretty much assured, that the case was a bad one indeed, and that the individual who could so far forget his own interests for the sake of the bottle, and who could be tolerated in any position of high trust in the State, while addicted to vices of such a character, not to mention others, thought by the Hamilton Quarterly Review to be of a graver nature were that possible, must be sustained by the influence of persons terribly deluded, or creatures vile in their degree in turn, and who, like himself, were regardless of the trust reposed in them by the people. And yet, as Greaves afterwards learned, this same man came to Canada a poor, bare-footed, Scotch lad, with a father whose only fortune was an old fiddle, and that inexorable but praiseworthy characteristic of his country—a determination to collect the bawbees at whatever shrine first presented itself on the shores of the New World. Be this as it may, the daily press of the Province has since verified the correctness of the whispers heard by Greaves, and made public the accusation, that this individual, so recently distinguished by a mark of royal favor, for three weeks previous to the invasion of Canada, was so lost in a whirlpool of the most deplorable intemperance, as to be utterly incapable of opening or attending to the important dispatches which lay scattered and unheeded upon his bedroom table.

When Greaves returned to The Harp, he found O'Brien in a state of great excitement. A soldier, as it appeared, had just arrived from the Fort, with the information that the Colonel, on second consideration, did not find it justifiable to apply for Barry's discharge, at a moment when the country was threatened with danger; and that, as the regiment should soon be ordered home, as he was assured, he had determined not to recommend any discharges until it had reached England. This intelligence had been conveyed to Nicholas by the Colonel in person, after parade, and in a manner which precluded the slightest hope of its being reversed by any succeeding alteration of opinion on the part of the individual who communicated it. A thunderbolt, had it fallen at the feet of the young soldier, could not have startled or paralyzed him more. He was actually struck dumb by it Here was the chalice dashed from his lips at last. He turned away in despair; but as he was for duty, he was constrained to smother the tumultuous feelings within his breast. When alone, however, and pacing his lonely round with his musket on his shoulder, he had time to measure, with sufficient calmness and accuracy, the length, breadth and depth of the great misfortunes that had befallen him. There was but one course left open to him. He had sought to purchase his discharge and leave the service, without the taint of desertion attaching to his name amongst any of his comrades, although he felt that he was not morally bound to remain in the service of England, for a single moment longer than it served his own private ends. Desertion, then, was the only course left open to him, and he was determined to follow it, upon the first fitting opportunity. Another reason why he would rather have been discharged in the ordinary manner from the service: if he once deserted he should never again, with any degree of security, visit any portion of the British dominions; and as Canada lay so close beside the United States, he would gladly have avoided the inconvenience of being shut out from it, as O'Brien and more than one of his friends resided there. However, there was now no help for it; to England he should never return, and so he disposed of the matter in his own bosom. When relieved of duty, then, and with his purpose fixed firmly in his heart, he once again visited The Harp, where he found Tom and Greaves lamenting over the intelligence of his misfortune, and to whom, in a moment of anxiety and excitement, he disclosed his determination to quit the service, and gain the shores of the neighboring Republic the first favorable moment that presented itself. Tom appeared somewhat agitated if not alarmed; at so serious a disclosure, made with such apparent unconcern; and it was only when Barry remembered the hint of the morning, which O'Brien gave him as he was about proceeding to the garrison, that he, himself, felt that he had perhaps been too incautious and precipitate before a person who, after all, was but a stranger to him, although apparently a kindly one. The cat being out of the bag, however, there was now no help for it; and as Greaves seemed to enter warmly into the project, and even offered to share his purse with Nicholas, if there was any necessity for it, the matter was allowed to rest as it was, and suspicion of Greaves, if any remained in the breast of either the soldier or Tom, was driven into the background, and constrained to remain in abeyance for the time being.

When Barry again returned to his quarters, he freely discussed his disappointment among his comrades, and declared his determination to lay the matter before the Commander-in-Chief, averring, with great earnestness, that he had always done his duty, and that he was not accountable for the state of the country, and should not be called upon to suffer for a condition of things outside and beyond his control, and which he was in no manner instrumental in bringing about. His argument seemed plausible enough, but then what, at any time, his argument, when it ran counter to the desires or intentions of his commanding officer? Therefore, the matter, after having been subjected to due discussion, was allowed to fall asleep in the usual stereotyped style; although as may be supposed, there were one or two breasts, at least, that were kept alive and active by it. Nicholas, believing that any intelligence of his embarrassment on the subject would but perplex and pain Kate, determined not to write to her regarding it, but to be the first to bear her the news himself. As already observed, she had written to him to procure his discharge at the earliest possible moment, and now to learn that his freedom was jeopardized for an indefinite period, involving, in addition, his return to England first, would be a renewal of her old agony. This he was determined to spare her; so, to those of his company in whom he could confide, and who were themselves ripe for any project that would tend to their total disseverment from the flag they so detested, he cautiously communicated his intentions, finding, in return, that more than one of them were on the eve of trying their fortune in the same manner. Soon, then, a sturdy little band had determined to leave the Fort, whatever night Barry should pitch upon; premising, of course, that it should be some one on which he would be on duty, and at a favorable point.

This much arranged, Greaves and Tom were made acquainted with the whole particulars of the plot; the former entering, to all appearance, heart and soul into it, and furthering it in every manner within the limits of his power. In fact, Greaves was actually behaving in a manner which staggered some suspicions still entertained by Tom, notwithstanding the letter to which reference has already been made, for he agreed to assist in forwarding the escape of one of Nicholas' company that had deserted sometime previously, and was still concealed in the outskirts of the town, in a place known to Barry only, and where he was hemmed in by detectives from his regiment that were continually traversing the city in colored clothes, or stationed as look-outs at certain points in its vicinity. Barry was most anxious that this poor fellow should not be left behind, and as Greaves promised to procure a disguise for him and have him conveyed secretly to Tom's on the night that the project of leaving the Fort was to be put into execution, Barry, at the request of Greaves, penned a note, which he hastily sealed with a love device well known to the deserter, and which he had himself received at the hands of the beautiful girl of his heart. The note ran thus:—

"Place the fullest confidence in the bearer. Follow his directions implicitly. Your fate hangs in the balance. He will lead you to where we shall meet. In great haste, &c.,

"NICHOLAS BARRY."

This note he handed to Greaves, who immediately consigned it to his pocket-book, and set forth, as he alleged, to reconoitre the hiding place of the soldier, and make such arrangements in his behalf as the necessities of the case required.

As the brief missive just quoted was written in O'Brien's, and in the presence of Tom himself, when Greaves left the premises, the host with some uneasiness observed:—

"I don't know how it is, Nick, but somehow or other I cannot divest myself of sartain lurkin suspicions which I have of that man; although there is not a single Irish Nationalist in the city that would not offer him his hand and a glass afther seein the letther that I saw. However, you will remimber that the first night he came I didn't warm to him, as I tould you, notwithstandin that I had to give up the next mornin. Still, and withal he appears to be actin fair, although I can't make out exactly what he's about here. Any way, in for a pinny in for a pound, so we must make the best of it; but, if I find that he is playin foul—well, God Almighty help him, and that's all I'll say. However, three nights from this will tell the whole story, and if you all make good your escape, you may take my word for it, I'll make a clane breast of it to him and ask his pardon into the bargain. I think with you that it was wise not to write to Kate about your throuble and disappointment, or apprise her of your intintion, as it would only agonize the poor craytshure; but should you be foiled and taken, what a dreadful thing it would be for her to hear instead of the intelligence of your freedom, that you were in the depths of a dungeon from which you might have no manes of escape for years!"

Barry absolutely shuddered at the possibility of such a denouement to the scheme that now absorbed his whole mind and soul. Although sensible of the risk he ran, he never paused to regard the peculiar features of the case as presented by his friend; but now that they loomed up before him in such bold and fearful relief, he almost shrank from pushing farther the dangerous project he had undertaken. Yet, there was no other channel through which he could hope to become speedily the husband of the woman he loved; while, if he abandoned it, he might probably be separated from her forever, as he felt convinced, that should an ocean roll once more between them, she would not long survive the calamity. In a moment, then, the faintness of his heart had passed away, and in its stead came the firm resolve to prosecute his design to the death; feeling that imprisonment for any term of years on the shores trodden by the being he adored, was preferable to freedom, such as it was, in a land cut off from her by the trackless desert of the great deep.

Re-assured once more, then, he continued cautiously the preparations for his departure, attending to his duties with his usual assiduity, and still murmuring at the decision of the Colonel. Neither he nor Tom, of course, ever approached the hiding place of the refugee already mentioned, although they managed to hear from him occasionally, and to keep his spirits up. Had either, by day or night, ventured near his retreat, they could scarcely have escaped notice—the one from his soldier's uniform and the other from his remarkable height and personal appearance; they were, therefore, with all their misgivings, relieved of their embarrassment in this relation, by the generous offer of Greaves, who, as it seemed, had abundance of means at his command to further any project that he might think proper to undertake relative to the escape of the deserter, or those who had now determined to join him.

In this way, then, matters stood on the very evening which was to close in the night selected by the intending fugitives, to put their designs into execution. Everything was ready, and as the clock struck twelve and the streets of the city were partially deserted, a cab rumbled up to the door of The Harp, and Greaves and a stranger, muffled to the eyes, stepping from it, entered the establishment and passed through the bar into Tom's little parlor. Greaves had kept his faith—the stranger was the deserter!



CHAPTER IX.

As might be presumed, from what we have already said regarding Kate McCarthy, from the moment she took up her abode with her relatives at Buffalo, she resumed her industrious habits, and set to work, in real earnest, to add something to whatever young Barry had realized from his own abilities and steady conduct on both sides of the Atlantic; for, since his arrival in Canada, he had plied his pen amongst his comrades, and in other quarters, copying papers and instructing the children of the soldiers where he was stationed. She consequently soon found her little store increased, and her time fully occupied. In music and the earlier branches of English, she had several young pupils; while for some of the fancy millinery stores of the city, she occasionally employed her needle on some of those delicate and exquisite ornaments of female dress which are at once so expensive and attractive. Her labors were, of course, cheered through constant intercourse by letter with Barry; and so the time rolled on up to the very point when Nicholas first applied for his discharge. It may be considered strange, that Barry had not left the service on his first arrival in Canada; but, then, let it be understood, that neither he nor Kate had yet acquired sufficient means with which to begin the world; while both were steadily accumulating a little, slowly but safely; and when, besides, he felt assured, that having the means at his command, he could, at any moment, procure his discharge. We have already said, that owing to his proud and unyielding nature, he was not a favorite with his officers, and that such being the case, he never 'rose above the ranks; but, then, after all, the most of his superiors had, at times, recourse to his pen and excellent education in various matters connected with the regiment, requiting him for his services handsomely enough; but still at enmity with his Irish blood, and what they feared was, his anti-British tendencies. Such inducements as these, although accompanied with drawbacks, moved him to remain in the service for a longer period than he should have done under other circumstances, and reconciled his lover to an absence which she believed could be terminated at any moment. And so time sped with her, until the eve of the very day, on the night of which Barry and his comrades were to leave the Fort, when returning towards her home in the direction of Black Bock, from the city, just as it began to get dusk, she was met by an over-dressed stranger, who accosting her in a most respectful manner, begged to know if she could direct him to the residence of Miss Kate McCarthy.

After recovering her surprise, and casting a searching glance at her interrogator, she replied, that she was, herself, Miss McCarthy, and begged to know what was his business with her. The man appeared to hesitate, as if not crediting her assertion, and proceeded to say, that he had a message for Miss McCarthy, but that he was led to believe that that lady was a much older person than the one whom he now addressed.

"Possibly," returned Kate, "there is some other lady of my name here; but if such be the case, I am totally unaware of it. However," she continued, "as I expect no message from any person of my acquaintance, doubtless I am not the person you seek," and bowing slightly to the stranger, she turned to pursue her way in the direction of her home.

"I beg your pardon for attempting to delay you," rejoined the stranger, "but after all, you may be the lady I seek. If you are," he went on to say, "you will be apt to recognize this token;" holding something in his hand, which he now thrust out towards her.

In an instant, her whole manner altered, her cheeks flushed, and a strange light burned in her eyes, as she exclaimed hurriedly, and while greatly agitated:

"Yes, I am the person; let us walk towards the house. It is but a short distance from where we stand."

In a few moments, they were both engaged in the most earnest conversation, and evidently entering into some stipulation that was to be carried out without delay. On nearing her residence, however, the stranger expressed his opinion, that it were better that he should return to the city at once, and make some arrangements in connection with the subject of their conversation, whatever that was; enforcing upon her, in the meantime, the most profound secrecy, and the strange necessity, above all things, of not informing any of her friends or relations of the project upon which they had decided.

"Twelve o'clock, at the Lower Ferry, then!" observed the stranger, as he turned his face towards the city.

"Twelve o'clock!" she returned. "No fear! I shall be awaiting you!"

When she entered the house, with a view to concealing her emotions and making some secret preparations for the accomplishment of the sudden project foreshadowed by the words of the stranger, she hastily gained her chamber. When alone, she gazed confused yet enraptured on the unexpected talisman that had been given her, and which she still held firmly in her grasp. Soon, however, becoming more calm, she set about making such arrangements for her midnight tryst as she conceived necessary; upon the completion of which, she penned a few lines to her kind relatives, begging them to make no inquiries after her, as she was safe; although, for reasons afterwards to be explained, she was obliged to leave their roof by stealth, and for the moment in utter darkness as to her destination. She assured them, nevertheless, that although her conduct was for the present suspicious and inexplicable, she was free from any taint of wrong, and was only obeying a voice that would soon justify to the fullest, and before them personally, the step she was now about to take. This note was left upon her bed-room table, where she knew it would be discovered; so, after declining to join the family at tea, on the plea of slight indisposition, she filled a traveling satchel with what necessaries she thought she might require for the few days she presumed she should be absent, and extinguishing her lamp at the hour she usually retired to rest, awaited, alone and in silence, for the clock to strike eleven; at which time she knew the family would have all sought their couch and be sunk in slumber.

From her chamber window she perceived that the lights soon began to disappear from the casements of the few dwellings that were in the immediate vicinity of her habitation, and that the quiet of repose was stealing over the neighborhood. Busied with her own thoughts, and anxious for the future, the time for her departure drew nigh more rapidly than she had anticipated; so, when the last stroke of eleven had died away through the house, she, having previously attired herself for her journey, and secured, about her person, whatever money she possessed, took up her satchel, and cautiously descending the stairs, soon emerged out into the gloomy night, hastily bending her footsteps towards the place of rendezvouz.

Here, besides encountering the individual already introduced to the reader, who was waiting for her, she having had to travel a considerable distance, and it being now close on midnight, she found a second party stationed by the side of a good sized boat, into which all three stepped upon her arrival; the two strangers seizing the oars and striking boldly out for the Canadian side of the river. Although rapid the current at the point of their crossing, so admirably did they manage their craft and lustily did they pull, they did not deviate much from the light on the opposite shore, which seemed to gleam from some cottage window, and which they took as a beacon and guide to their course. In the space of about half an hour, they landed at the point they expected to make, where they found a team waiting, with a lantern so ingeniously fixed in the wagon as to be discernible from the American side of the river only; this being the light by which the two boatmen had steered.

As they all stepped ashore, Kate had a full opportunity of scrutinizing the appearance of the second stranger, who aided her in crossing the river. He was a short, thick-set, heavy man, of a most forbidding aspect, with a huge mouth and a broad, flat nose, without a bridge. He wore a blue flannel shirt and a heavy, short over-coat and slouched hat, and was, taking him all and all, about as villainous a looking specimen of humanity as one could well meet in a day's walk. Nor was the driver of the wagon into which she now was lifted, a very decided improvement in this relation. He, also, was a most suspicions looking fellow, although civil enough in his way. Kate felt relieved, however, when her earliest acquaintance of the evening took his seat beside her, and when she perceived the man with the blue shirt re-entering the boat and pushing off for the American shore once again.

The driver now having adjusted himself in his place in front of Kate and her polite companion, the whip was laid to the horses, and the party moved briskly along the bank of the river, until they struck into a road which evidently led into the interior of the country. This road they pursued at a slow pace until the first gray streaks of dawn were visible in the eastern horizon; Kate's companion, from time to time, making such commonplace observations as the necessity of the case required; she supposing that the presence of the driver prevented him from offering her any farther explanation on the subject of her singular adventure. Just as surrounding objects were becoming more distinct, they pulled up before an isolated building, in what appeared to be a country place, and in which, early as it was, there was some person already astir, as was evident from the light which shone from one of the windows.

Here they all alighted and were received at the door of the dwelling by a middle aged woman, with a strip of red silk bound round her head and drawn down over one of her eyes. She was dressed in a plain but neat manner, and exhibited sufficient traits of feminine beauty to recommend her to either sex. The driver was evidently her husband, and no very affectionate one either, if the coarse, cold manner in which he received her welcome could be taken as any indication on this head. However, as Kate was cold and weary, she gladly accepted an invitation to alight and enter the building, where she found a large fire blazing and crackling upon the hearth, in an apartment that was used as a dining-room and kitchen; although the house was a large one and clearly contained many apartments. When seated by the fire, and while the driver was seeing to his horses, her companion, who also seated himself by the warm blaze, informed her that, for the present, she was at the end of her journey—that the driver, his wife and a grown up niece or daughter, were the only inhabitants of the house, and that the place was selected as her retreat for the time being, for reasons that would doubtless be explained to her in due time. Although surprised and mystified at all she had already experienced, she, of course, had not one word to say in opposition to the disposition that had been made of her; for had she not in her bosom the guarantee that all was right; so, professing her willingness to remain in her temporary abode until the period for her release arrived, and promising to be as patient as possible, under the circumstances, she begged the woman of the house to show her to her room, as she needed a few hours rest, to which request her hostess readily acceded, having first, though in vain, endeavored to prevail upon her to take some refreshments after her journey.

The room to which Kate was shown was far from a despicable one, and possessed many articles of furniture infinitely superior to those in the department she had first entered. The floor was carpeted, and the chairs and tables of quite a superior quality; the bed, also, seemed invitingly clean and comfortable, while some excellent books were to be found in a small, neat case, standing in one corner of the apartment. On the table there burned a handsome lamp, and a fire blazed cheerfully in a small, open stove, as though her arrival had been expected and well cared for. When her hostess left her, she examined her chamber door and windows, and found the latter quite secure, while in the lock of the former was a key, one turn of which would cut her off completely from any intrusion whatever. Seating herself beside her lamp, she reviewed rapidly the events of the night, and finding no solution for them, she slowly undressed, and consigning herself to the care of heaven, was soon lost in a calm and refreshing slumber, from which she did not awake until the sun had nearly attained his meridian glory.

When she opened her eyes and collected her scattered senses, she hastily arose, and dressing herself, rang a small bell that lay on her table, and which her hostess desired she should use when she required any attendance. Immediately a gentle tap was heard at her chamber door, upon opening which, a young girl, about sixteen years of age, presented herself with a pitcher of fresh water, begging to know, as she placed it on the wash-stand, at what period she should bring up breakfast; setting about opening the windows as she spoke, and otherwise busying herself in arranging the room. There was something in the appearance of this young creature, that at once enlisted the sympathy and kindly feelings of Kate. Her features were strangely handsome and prepossessing, and her form of the very finest proportions. Her hands, although rough with hard work, were, nevertheless, small and delicately shaped, while her feet, notwithstanding that they were encased in a pair of over-large slippers, were obviously very beautiful. She was tall for her age, and apparently better educated than her seeming condition in life might warrant. But what was most peculiar about her, was an air of sadness, that seemed native to her expressive countenance, and which pervaded her smiles even, with a strange, subduing power, that nearly allied them to gentle tears. Her voice, too, was singularly sweet, low and melodious; while her whole demeanor was so tinged with what might be termed some lone, hidden sorrow, that Kate felt drawn towards her in a manner the most unaccountable. In answer to a query put to her, she said she was not, as was generally supposed, the daughter of the owners of the establishment, but their niece, as she believed; and that she had now been residing in the locality for over five years. That her uncle did a great deal of teaming, and was often from home; and that, in his absence, she and her aunt took care of a small patch of ground that lay at the back of the house. She was almost glad, she said, that the lady had come to stay sometime with them, and hoped that she would allow her to often sit by her and read during the times her uncle would be away; as it might tend to beguile many a weary hour; that is, provided the lady would have to remain any length of time with them.

There was something in all this which seemed to move Kate strangely. The expression "almost glad" sounded curiously in her ears, and awakened in her feelings of a no very pleasurable character. However, she determined, upon so slight an acquaintance, not to push her inquiries further just then; and by way of forming a friendly compact with her attendant, assured her, that so long as she remained in the house, she should always be happy to have her as a companion whenever she could be spared from her domestic duties; and further, that it would afford her the greatest possible pleasure to sit and listen to her, whenever she could find a moment's time to either read for her or while away a few minutes in friendly conversation. This condescension seemed to light up the face of the interesting young creature with a flush of gratitude the most ardent; and with a lighter step than that with which she had entered the chamber, she tripped away, for the purpose of bringing up the breakfast to which she had already referred.

When Martha, as Kate's new acquaintance was called, again entered the apartment, she was accompanied by her aunt, who was dressed just as she had been the night before, with the exception that the strip of red silk had been replaced by a purple band of the same material. As the breakfast, which was excellent for a country place, was being placed upon the table, Kate perceived that one side of the woman's face was discolored, and being moved to make some inquiries regarding the cause, was informed, that while breaking up some kindling wood, a splinter had accidentally struck her face. This went to satisfy her, of course, although she thought the large, black patch which fell down along the cheek was singularly dark and wide to be traceable to the small splinter that the woman asserted to be the cause of it. A strange look from Martha, too, aroused a suspicion that the origin of the disfigurement was not that named; so here the matter rested for the present.

During her repast, she learned from Martha, who remained with her, that the name of the people of the house was Wilson; that they were English, and that the person who had arrived in company with her uncle, who was also English, was called Stephen Smith; but where he resided she was unable to say. This she knew, however, that he made occasional visits to the family, and was sometimes accompanied by a very ill-looking man, who remained a day or two, after having left some boxes or cases in charge of her uncle, who subsequently disposed of them in some manner unknown to her.

"But," she continued, "I don't like these men. They always come in the night, and go away in the night, and are ever whispering; you must not, however," she went on to say, "mention this to either my aunt or my uncle; for, if they should know I had said so much, they would doubtless be very angry with me."

"Oh!" returned Kate, "you may rely upon it, that whatever you may choose to say in relation to the men in question, or anything else, shall remain in my bosom; for to betray any confidence of the kind, would, in my eyes, be criminal in the last degree."

"What brought you here, then!—what brought you here!" ejaculated Martha, in an anxious, nervous tone. "There must be something wrong!—some treachery, or I am sure a lady so good and pure as you seem to be, would never cross this threshold."

Kate, becoming instantly alarmed, broke off suddenly in her repast, and begged the young girl, for Heaven's sake, to be more explicit.

"I really don't know what more to say than I have already said," replied the girl; "but, as I feel drawn towards you by some invisible power, short as our acquaintance has been, I will say, that I fear my uncle's associates are lawless men, and believe that my aunt knows it, and regrets it, too. But a few nights ago, when Smith came here to make arrangements about your arrival, as I suppose, I heard high words between my relatives after his departure, and, the next morning, found my aunt's face just as you have seen it. But we dare not say much in opposition to any proposition that my uncle might choose to make in any connection, so violent and brutal is his temper at times. For my own part, however," she proceeded, "so soon as I can escape from such thraldom and associations, I shall try and make my own way in the world; for my impression is, my uncle has some idea of a union between me and the detestable creature, Smith, who accompanied you here last night, and who, after an hour's rest, was again driven off by my uncle, doubtless to whatever point he came from."

This intelligence, as may be supposed, caused poor Kate the greatest possible anxiety; but what had she to fear so long as she took the talisman for her guide? Here there could be no mistake, anyway; for had she not it in her bosom, and was it not from him? Still, that there was something perfectly mysterious about the whole affair, she was quite ready to admit; but as she had received the strictest injunctions from Smith not to permit herself to be seen for the present in the vicinity of the place, or outside the dwelling, she determined to obey one to whom no small power in her case had unquestionably been delegated by her lover.

During the day Martha and Kate were frequently together—the poor young girl disclosing her history scrap by scrap, until at last Kate learned that she was in reality an orphan; that both her parents died when she was yet quite young; that her aunt, who was possessed of an excellent education, had been twice married—once to her own mother's brother, and subsequently to the man whom she now called uncle; that her own parents had been Irish, and that on their death, her real uncle became her guardian and true friend until his death; when, on this second, unfortunate marriage, the affairs of the family becoming hopelessly embarrassed, she and her relatives embarked for America, taking up their abode first in Toronto, and subsequently in the place where they now resided. In addition, she stated that her opportunities of education had been good, and that, somehow or other, since she had crossed the Atlantic, she managed to keep a few choice books about her, and avail herself of the assistance of her aunt, whenever they could, in the absence of her uncle, devote an hour to study or the perusal of some new work.

The small clearing, on the verge of which the house occupied by the Wilsons stood, was surrounded with woods, and no other habitation was to be found in its immediate vicinity. From the morose disposition and suspicious character of the proprietor himself, but few of the neighbors were on visiting terms with the family; so that they might be said to lead a completely sequestered life. From time to time only, an occasional visit was paid him by some one who stood in need of the services of his team; and thus his standing in the neighborhood was that of a suspected or banned man—the general impression being, that he was neither more nor less than a dangerous and daring smuggler, who was constantly engaged in the interests of unprincipled merchants on both sides of the lines. This idea obtained footing from the circumstance that he had been observed returning late one night from the frontier with his wagon laden down with suspicious looking boxes and bales; and from the further fact, that his absences from home were frequently lengthy and mysterious—no one knowing the precise nature of his business, or the points to which his journeys were made so often.