A small string of cars

main where they were, but the cavalry | 4 A.M. · the darkness might have been and police were to start at a very early felt, and, to make the gloom more inhour in the morning, and were to sur-tense, there was a heavy cold rain, round a Roman Catholic seminary for mingled with sleet, which chilled men priests, about five miles distant, before and horses. daybreak. Information had been received that an important Fenian leader had taken refuge there, and it was hoped that if the place was suddenly guarded and searched, he would be caught in his bed. Our destination was to be kept as quiet as possible, and the men were to receive no instructions except to parade at a given hour.

The

laden with constabulary, each man with his rifle between his knees, was ready to accompany us. Mr. Beresford, the resident magistrate, put himself at the head of our little column, and we dived into a labyrinth of miry roads from which nothing but his knowledge of the country extricated us. After more than an hour of slow and interrupted marching-for five As I had expected, immediately after nominal Irish miles are equal to an dinner Joscelyn asked me to go round unknown quantity of English - we arthe billets of his squad in addition to rived at a big bleak-looking barrack of those of my own, as he said he had an a place, which we were told was the engagement. This was rather an seminary we looked for. The cavalry exacting test of friendship, for the were disposed in small parties round night was wet, the town dirty, and the the building, with constant patrols billets, hidden in the queerest slums, moving from group to group. were not easily found. However, with constabulary guarded every door and the assistance of Corporal Morrogh, outlet, and we felt reasonably confident who was acting orderly sergeant, that if the sought-for Fenian was in armed with a lantern, I managed to the seminary, he could not slip through make my inspection, only hoping that the watchful double line when we beat Cissy Power would not profit too much up his quarters. The great gaunt by her opportunities. I could not help house loomed a dark mass before us, acknowledging to myself, in spite of details indistinguishable in the darkest my late prejudices against Morrogh, hour before the dawn. No light in any that in the performance of a disagree- window, and no noise in the surroundable duty I had never found a non-ing space but a muttered order to the commissioned officer more intelligent soldiers and police, the occasional clank or more anxious to make himself use- of a sword, or the faint rattle of bit and ful. As we were stumbling and collar-chain. splashing through the muddy ways, he The magistrate, with a small party told me that he knew some of the of constables, and accompanied by the people in this part of the country, and colonel and two or three officers, disthat if I could say what we were going mounted and knocked heavily at the to do on the following day, he could massive door, with a loud summons to make inquiries about roads and short" open in the queen's name." There cuts, and get some information about was continued silence for a minute. them which might be of use. I was Again the summous was repeated with rather inclined to ask him if he knew the seminary; but bearing in mind the directions not to say anything about our plans to the men in the ranks, I only repeated the order about early parade. I did not see Joscelyn again that night.

When we turned out in the morning everything was as disagreeable as it well could be. At the early hourLIVING AGE. VOL. VI. 306

its

The bolts were

increased emphasis, and a stir of life
woke in the building. Lights flitted
about, and steps were heard coming
down to the door.
drawn back, the key turned, and a
quaint-looking figure appeared, with
feet thrust in carpet slippers, and a
somewhat greasy old soutane buttoned
awry over a night-gown. The air of
astonishment at the early visit, if not

real, was uncommonly well assumed, I gave him a nudge, therefore, and and was not decreased when the mag-handed the scrap to him, saying, “Who istrate announced his intention of wrote that? I have just found it on searching the establishment. No op- the floor." When he saw it he turned position was made, of course; but deadly pale, and whispering, "For there was a great to-do. Doors of dor- God's sake, don't show it to anybody! mitories were half-opened, and sallow- it's Cissy's writing," gave it to me hurfaced, close-cropped heads were popped riedly back again, as if it burned his out in whispering curiosity. Mr. Beres- fingers. I don't think I should have ford knew his objective point, and paid any attention to his injunction if I pushed quickly up the stairs and along had not heard the order of the colonel, a corridor till he came to a small room who was following the magistrate, next door to the principal's lodging." Mr. Carew, go at once and say that We entered. It was empty; but the 200th are to be collected and formed up, ready to move off as soon as we have been through the house." I carefully put the scrap of paper away in my pocket-book for future use, and ran down-stairs to execute the order.

though the bedclothes had been folded down, there could be no doubt that it was not long vacant. I thought I caught a cunning gleam in the eye of the old priest who accompanied us, but his face again set immediately into a stolid expression of unconsciousness. It was evident that our bird had been alarmed and had flown. Mr. Beresford was furious, and had the whole house ransacked, though in doing so there was little hope of success. The fugitive, once disturbed, was pretty certain to have bolted to some other hidingplace. As we were leaving the room, where we were almost sure that he had not long ago been reposing, I saw a torn scrap of paper lying behind the door. Rather mechanically than from any set purpose, I picked it up and began twisting it round my finger. The old priest, who had, I believe, been watching us all like a cat, gave an unmistakable start, which woke my attention. I glanced at the scrap evidently a piece of a letter of which the remaining fragments had been destroyed. It had only the words written on it, "will be searched to-morrow" not very much in themselves, and only suggestive that a written warning had been sent. But what did strike me was that the handwriting, that of a woman, seemed familiar to me. I was just going to hand it to the magistrate, when I thought I would first show it to Joscelyn, to see if he could assist me in recalling the possible writer, as we had long lived so much together that my and his acquaintance with handwritings was likely to be mutual.

The pickets and patrols were soon withdrawn, and the whole were formed up before the colonel and Mr. Beresford had finished their search. As they left the door I heard Mr. Beresford say to the old priest, "Remember, Father Leary, you have not heard the last of this. Circumstances are very suspicious."

Immediate orders were given to the cavalry to return to our last night's quarters, and the constabulary were to follow as soon as they had gathered and mounted their cars. An advanced guard was told off under Joscelyn, and ordered to lead the way along the homeward route, which, as it was now daylight, was easily to be distinguished. Just before they trotted away, Mr. Beresford said to Joscelyn, "This is an awkward enclosed bit of country, and you must keep a bright lookout for any parties of men lying concealed in a handy shelter. We may hit upon some of these fellows we want, as they will not expect us to be so quick. If you see any suspiciouslooking people you must stop them, if they don't obey your orders you may fire - I will be responsible."

and

Tony and his men were about a quarter of a mile ahead of the rest of us, who were jogging quietly along, smoking our pipes and discussing the coup manqué of the morning. We had left the seminary some distance behind

when we heard a shot, followed by the | somehow or other and rapidly formed sound of a sort of scattered volley. A a line. "Now, by your centre. Trot. man of the advanced guard galloped Gallop. Charge." What a general back and said, "Mr. Joscelyn reports sauve qui peut followed! The would-be that there is a crowd of men on each rebels, astonished at the prompt action side of the road with a couple of green of the cavalry, from whom they had flags, and they fired on us. None of thought themselves secure, turned and the men are hit, but there is a horse scuttled away like alarmed rabbits. killed." few harmless shots were fired, but

"This is your business now, colo-guns, scythes, and pikes were thrown nel," said Mr. Beresford.

The old chief gave no reply, but his command rang out, "Squadron, attention. Draw swords. Canter."

away, and I believe that the only in-
jury done to us was that two horses
were cut by treading on the abandoned
weapons. Several of our wretched
opponents were knocked over, but none
were seriously hurt. A lot of them got
away, but twenty or thirty, with one of
the uniformed leaders, who, we after-
wards discovered, was the man we had
searched for in the morning, were cor-
nered against a high bank, which they
had vainly tried to cross,
and were
made prisoners. A very soaked and
bedraggled green flag, picked up from
the mud, remained as the spoil of war.

We soon closed on the advanced guard, which we found in some disorder. The men were fumbling with their carbines in a helpless fashion, and one horse was dying on the road, while its late rider was ruefully contemplating its last struggles. The fields on both sides of the road were filled with men, a few with guns, but most of them provided with extemporized weapons pikes, scythes, and pitchforks. The road was blocked by a couple of cut-down trees; and as there was a deep ditch with an overgrown bank on each side, it looked very much as if we were caught in a trap. A couple of men on horseback, in some nondescript green uniforms, were giving orders to the crowd, and those who had guns were busy reloading and pre-made assurance doubly sure by giving paring for another volley.

"Why on earth didn't you fire, Mr. Joscelyn?" said the colonel.

"I did give the order, sir," replied Tony, "but there's something wrong with the carbines. None of them will go off."

"Some d-d carelessness, or worse, somewhere! Never mind. We can't be stopped like this, and we must chance the fence. Leading troop, right form. Lift your horses, men. For

By this time the constabulary on their cars had joined us, but there was nothing left for them to do except to furnish an escort for our cowed and miserable prisoners. We had no means of securing them, and though there was not much chance of their giving their guardians the slip, Mr. Beresford

the order, "Cut their braces." Wheu this was done their whole energies were required to hold up their nether garments, which, worn after the fashion of the Irish peasantry, most baggy and voluminous, would have otherwise fallen about their heels and most effectually hampered every movement.

Our little scrimmage was soon over, and we pushed on to our quarters, where we were glad to find food and shelter after our wet and disagreeable morning's work. Before the men were dismissed to their billets their carbines were inspected, and we found that the nipple of each (this was before the days of breechloaders) had been carefully plugged up, so that all were unserviceable.

There was a court of inquiry ordered to sit at once to collect evidence how such a thing could have

been done. The captains of troops | not anywhere be discovered. We were positive that all were in perfect knew that no train had left the station, order when they were inspected on the so we hoped that he would be found previous evening, and the men were before long in the little town or its equally certain that the only person neighborhood. It was curious that he who could have subsequently touched had disappeared just when arrest was them was Corporal Morrogh, who, as threatened, and we could only suppose acting orderly sergeant, had visited the that some one in the telegraph office billets several times before the morn-had warned him. His cipher papers ing parade. The evidence was not were sent to Dublin to be translated, complete enough, however, to fix such as we could find no key to their meana serious offence upon a non-commis-ing. sioned officer so smart and energetic as Morrogh, and the matter remained for the time a mystery. I gave the piece of paper which I had picked up in the morning to Mr. Beresford; but though both Tony Joscelyn and I thought that the writing was Cissy Power's, it was impossible to swear to the fact, and I said nothing of our suspicions. After all, it was much more satisfactory to have caught the Fenian leader in open rebellion than to have surprised him in his bed before he had committed himself, and it was not of much consequence to ascertain who had given him his warning. Tony admitted to me that he had told Cissy that the seminary was to be searched; but he maintained that it was impossible to believe that a girl like her, who professed to hate the Fenians as she did, could have been in communication with one of their leaders.

Later in the day I was busy writing, to the colonel's dictation, a report of our day's work for the Dublin authorities, when a telegram arrived from headquarters giving instructions that Corporal Morrogh was to be at once arrested, and his kit was to be searched, as information had been received that he was connected with the Fenian movement. This was a blow to us, as we had fondly hoped that, if there was disaffection anywhere in the ranks of the army, our own regiment had escaped the contagion. The orders, however, were clear and precise, and the troop officers were sent to carry them out. In a short time they returned, and produced a variety of cipher papers which had been found in Morrogh's valise. He himself could

In the evening Tony Joscelyn went to visit Cissy Power, more, I believe, in hopes of finding out something about the scrap of writing than to pay his usual devotion; but he found that she and her mother had left the town without leaving any trace of their movements. All that he could learn was, that two women had been seen early in the evening on a car by a constabulary patrol.

Under the energetic action of government all over Ireland, things settled down before long pretty well, and the fiasco, in which the rising which we had quelled had terminated, was the last of any disturbances in County Shillelagh. Our little column was broken up, and the squadron of the 200th returned to Dublin. Nothing official was ever heard of Corporal Morrogh; but when his papers were deciphered, they proved that he had enlisted as a Fenian, to forward the conspiracy, and if possible to seduce other soldiers from their allegiance. Two months later Joscelyn received letter with the New York post mark : —

a

I heard afterwards that Alderman | guished, is already an old book, and we' Morrogh was a very influential man in dare not undertake to say how it is the corporation of New York, and that he had a very pretty wife. Could he have been our escaped Fenian?

Tony Joscelyn did not remain long in the service. He came into some property, and leads a very retired life. He has never married, and, I believe, has never forgotten the fair Fenian spy. C. STEIN.

From The Edinburgh Review. LIFE AND LETTERS OF MRS. CRAVEN.1

IT is always difficult to form a just estimate of society and ways of living different from our own, even when these are within our own country, and more or less within the conditions of our own existence. But this difficulty is greatly increased when country, language, and uses differ from ours, and we have to strain our intelligence to follow the lines of a life with which we have no familiarity. We, in our insular ways, are more separate from the rest of the kingdoms of the earth than are any of those nations who divide the Continent among them. We love, we rejoice, and mourn, as they do; we encounter the same human episodes and revolutions, but we do not express ourselves in the same way, and we often find it difficult to understand or to sympathize with their modes of expression. On the other hand, the very absence of this faculty of expression often gives to a journal intime from another language a popularity and an influence to which in itself it has little right.

regarded by the new generation, which has a standard of taste SO much changed from that of the last; though it may indeed be said to be a classic, and therefore one of the books which it touches the reputation of all who profess a love of literature to know. We cannot but hope, however, that the book now before us, which is in some sort the completion and winding up of that wonderful history of love and sorrow, will do much to bring it back to the reader. Seldom has there been so full and delicate a record of youth, of love, of happiness and gaiety, and trouble and grief. The life of Mrs. Craven, its author, records the maturer years, the riper thoughts, the consolations and philosophy of a woman tried with every possible shock and sorrow, yet retaining the spirit and courage, the gay heart, the happy blood-to use a phrase of her own-of her early years through all.

These modest volumes have thus many claims upon the interest of the reader. They reveal to us a life with which only a limited number of people out of France can be acquainted — a life full of the most curious and piquant contrasts, and which, perhaps, is already fading out of the contemporary phases of existence, society in France having passed through more fundamental changes than in any other country in Europe. They bring back to our knowledge one of the finest varieties of the race, more different, perhaps, than any we find among ourselves from the common strain, yet so fully revealed that we become more intiThe book before us is interesting mately acquainted with it than we are, from both these points of view. It is it may almost be said, with many of our one of the best indications we could nearest friends. Coming from the very have of French life and character, and fine fleur of that French society at a it is a kind of sequel to a work which period more unlike the present than in of all journaux intimes is the most ex- our steadier order we can well underquisite and touching. The "Récit stand, profoundly pious, brilliantly d'une Sœur," by which the name of Mrs. Craven will always be distin

mondaine, at home in half the courts of Europe, and in all the convents, with all the wit and logic of France in her talk, and the mystic worship of a devout Catholic in her heart, Pauline de