around the corners of his mouth. But I
was afraid he might rush matters here, and it would be dangerous. But
where's the use? He understood but one way of acting,--to grapple with
an abuse and strangle it. "You drop stones," he used to say, "and they
turn up armed men."

How he learned their place of meeting I don't know. But Sunday afternoon
was a favorite time for the rebels; and the coursing match on the black
hills and the rabbit hunt in the plantations were only preliminaries to
more important and secret work. Whether by accident or design, Father
Letheby stumbled on such a meeting about four o'clock one Sunday
afternoon. A high ditch and a strong palisade of fir trees hid him from
sight, and he was able to hear a good deal, and had no scruple in
playing the listener. This is what he heard. The village tailor, lame in
one leg, and familiarly known as "Hop-and-go-one," was the orator:--

"Fellow countrymen, de time for action has come. From ind to ind of the
land, the downtrodden serfs of Ireland are rising in their millions. Too
long have dey been juped by false pretences; too long have the hirelings
of England chated and decaved them. We know now what a shimmera,[2] what
a fraud, was Home Rule. Our counthry has been dragged at the tail of
English parties, who were purshuing their own interests. But 't is all
past. No more constitutional agitation, no more paceful struggle. Lead
will do what fine speeches didn't. And if the black militia, wid dere
ordhers from Rome, attimpt this time to interfere, we know what answer
to give dem. De West's awake, and 't isn't priests will set us to sleep
agin--"

At this juncture the orator was caught by the nape of the neck, and
lifted bodily off the turf ditch, which was his forum. When he looked
around, and saw who was his captor, he shrieked for mercy; and Father
Letheby, dropping him, as one would drop a rat, he scurried off as fast
as his lame leg would permit, whilst the priest, turning round to the
stupefied boys, warned them of their folly and madness:--

"God knows, boys," he said, "I pity you. You are bent on a desperate and
foolish course, the end of which no man can foresee. I know it is
useless to reason with you on the score of danger; but I warn you that
you are violating the laws of God and the Church, and that no blessing
comes from such action. And yet," he continued, placing his hand in the
breast-pocket of his coat, and drawing out a blue official paper, "t