the rich soil of a heart whose nature, once noble, has been perverted
and debased. Ere many weeks passed over, Owen, so far from disliking the
theme of violence and outrage, became half-angry with his comrades,
that they neither proposed any undertaking to him, nor even asked his
assistance amongst them.

This spirit grew hourly stronger in him; offended pride worked within
his heart during the tedious days he spent alone, and he could scarcely
refrain from demanding what lack of courage and daring they saw in him,
that he should be thus forgotten and neglected.

In this frame of mind, irresolute as to whether he should not propose
himself for some hazardous scheme, or still remain a mere spectator
of others, he arrived one evening in the old churchyard. Of late, "the
boys," from preconcerted arrangements among themselves, had rather
made a show of cold and careless indifference in their manner to
Owen--conduct which deeply wounded him.

As he approached now the little crypt, he perceived that a greater
number than usual were assembled through the churchyard, and many
were gathered in little knots and groups, talking eagerly together; a
half-nod, a scarcely muttered "Good even," was all the salutation he
met, as he moved towards the little cell, where, by the blaze of a piece
of bog-pine, a party were regaling themselves--the custom and privilege
of those who had been last out on any marauding expedition. A smoking
pot of potatoes and some bottles of whisky formed the entertainment, at
which Owen stood a longing and famished spectator.

"Will yez never be done there eatin' and crammin' yerselves?" said a
gruff voice from the crowd to the party within; "and ye know well enough
there's business to be done to-night."

"And ain't we doing it?" answered one of the feasters. "Here's your
health, Peter!" and so saying, he took a very lengthened draught from
the "poteen" bottle.

"'Tis the thrade ye like best, anyhow," retorted the other. "Come, boys;
be quick now!"

The party did not wait a second bidding, but arose from the place, and
removing the big pot to make more room, they prepared the little cell
for the reception of some other visitors.

"That's it now! We'll not be long about it. Larry, have yez the deck,'
my boy?"

"There's the book, darlint," said a short, little, de-crepid creature,
speaking with an asthmatic effort, as he produced a pack of cards,
which, if one were to judge from the dirt, made the sk