ldiers were turned loose on the
island to rob, burn and destroy the natives.

As soon as counties and provinces were conquered, the military and lordly
pets of the various monarchs were given large grants of the lands stolen
from the people.

O'Neil, O'Brien, Desmond, O'Donnell, O'Connor, Burke, Clanrickard and
Tyrone disputed every inch of ground with Pellam, Mountjoy, Gray, Essex,
Raleigh and Cromwell; and, although the original commanders and owners of
the soil have been virtually banished or killed, their posterity has the
proud satisfaction of knowing that more than a million of Englishmen and
Scotchmen have been killed by the "Wild Irish," and the battle for liberty
shall still go on till the Saxon robber relinquishes his blood sucking
tentacles on the Emerald Isle.

Poet Spenser and Sir Walter Raleigh were rewarded by Queen Elizabeth with
thousands of acres, confiscated from the great estate of the Earl of
Desmond, who lived at the castle of Kilcolman, near the town of Doneraile.

Spenser paid for his stolen land by writing a dissertation on the way to
conquer and kill off the Irish race, regarding them no more than the wild
beasts of the forest. He also flattered Queen Bess by composing a lot of
flattering verse, called the "Faerie Queen," and made her believe she was
the beautiful, sweet, mild, chaste, angelic individual that had thrilled
his imagination in the royal realms of dreamland.

What infernal lies political courtiers, religious ministers and even poets
have told to flatter the vanity of governors, presidents, kings, queens,
popes and emperors!

Yet in all the grand sentiments Shakspere evolved out of his volcanic
brain, he never bent the knee to absolute vice, but pictured the horrors
of royalty in its most devilish attitudes. His pen was never purchased
against truth.

We remained at Kilcolman Castle with Spenser for about ten days riding and
sporting, and then with an escort of soldiers, were piloted through the
"Rebel" counties on to Dublin, where the head of O'Neil graced one of the
"Red" walls of that unlucky city.

On our route from Cork to Dublin we beheld misery and ruin in every form,
burned cabins, churches, monasteries and bridges, and starving women and
children on the roadside, crouching under bushes, straw stacks and leaking
sheds, with smouldering turf fires crackling on the ashes of despair!

We took shipping the next morning for Liverpool, as William was very
anxious to get