tinued for years after to be fed by
Darby with victims for this crime; and several hundred were transported,
or went into voluntary banishment on account of this fearful butchery.
The writer of this knew well, and was at school with the secretary of
the Court of Kilteely Hill.

CHAPTER I.--The Chapel Green of Esker Dearg.

The chapel of _Esker Dearg_, or the Red Ridge, was situated in a rich
and well-cultivated country, that for miles about it literally teemed
with abundance. The Red Ridge under which it stood was one of those long
eminences, almost, if not altogether, peculiar to Ireland. It was, as
the name betokens, a prolonged elevation that ran for nearly a mile and
a half in a north-eastern direction without appearing to yield to, or
be influenced by, the natural position or undulations of the country
through which it went. The epithet of red which was attached to it,
originated, according to popular tradition, in a massacre which had
taken place upon it during one of the Elizabethan wars, others imputed
it to a cause much more obvious and natural, viz., its peculiar
appearance during all seasons of the year, owing to the parched and
barren nature of the soil, which, in consequence of its dry and elevated
Position, was covered only with furze and tern, or thin, short grass
that was parched by the sun into a kind of red-brown color.

Under that end of this Esker which pointed nearest to the south-west,
stood the chapel we have just mentioned. It was a rather long building
with double gables and a double roof, perfectly plain, and with no other
ornament, either inside or out, if we except a marble cross that stood
against the wall upon the altar, of which the good priest was not a
little vain, inasmuch as it had been of his own procuring. A public road
of course ran past it, or rather skirted the green unenclosed space, by
which, in common with most country edifices, it was surrounded. Another
road joined that which we have mentioned, within a few perches of it,
so that it stood at what might be nearly considered a cross-road. One
or two large trees grew beside it, which gave to its otherwise simple
appearance something of picturesque effect, especially during the
summer months, when they were thickly covered with leaves, and waved and
rustled in the sun to the refreshing breezes of that delightful season.

It was Sunday in the early part of March--we will not name the
year--when our story commences. The