knows what beside. Finally, pistol in hand, he bade
them produce their arms and put them in his dog-cart.

This they actually did--for they had imbibed no liquor to give them
false pluck--and, with a final curse, he whipped up his horse and drove
away 'with all their teeth' to the barracks, where he left a very useful
arsenal, and was never troubled by one of them again.

To thus obtain complete immunity by sheer coolness is as much a matter
of personal magnetism as anything else. An instance of this, which
impressed me much, occurred in a coiner-ghost story told by Mr. T.P.
O'Connor, which I venture to quote.

'The hero was no less a person than Marshal Saxe. One night, on the
march, he bivouacked in a haunted castle, and slept the sleep of the
brave until midnight, when he was awakened by hideous howls heralding
the approach of the spectre. When it appeared, the Marshal first
discharged his pistol point-blank at it without effect, and then struck
it with his sabre, which was shivered in his hand. The invulnerable
spectre then beckoned the amazed Marshal to follow, and preceded him to
a spot where the floor of the gallery suddenly yawned, and they sank
together through it to sepulchral depths. Here he was surrounded by a
band of desperate coiners who would forthwith have made away with him if
the Marshal had not told them who he was, and warned them that if he
disappeared his army would dig to the earth's centre to find him, and
would infallibly find and finish every one of them.

'"If I am reconducted to my chamber by this steel-clad spectre and
allowed to sleep undisturbed until morning, I promise never to relate
this adventure while any harm can happen to you by my telling it."

'To this the coiners after consultation agreed. He was led back to bed,
and next morning ridiculed all spectral stories to his officers. It was
not until the world of coiners was finally broken up that he related his
experiences.'

In that story I wonder who went bail for the Marshal's truth. Veracity
and gallantry may not have gone hand in hand, or perhaps they were
affianced, and therefore took care not to come near one another.

Another sort of gallantry was noteworthy in what was known as Young
Ireland, for in 'the set' were several ladies, Eva, Mary, and Speranza,
all prone to write seditious verse. Eva was Miss Mary Kelly, daughter of
a Galway gentleman, who promised her lover to wait while he underwent
ten years penal servitude