and air of apparent occupation, however, deceived the other; and the
elder, supposing that I was engaged in considering the paragraph, said,
"You'll see the government proclamation on the other side, a general
amnesty to all under the rank of officers in the rebel army, who give up
their arms within six days. The French to be treated as prisoners of
war."

"Is he too late to regain the fleet," whispered the younger.

"Of course he is. They are already hull down; besides, who's to assist
his escape, Tom? You forget the position he stands in."

"But I do not forget it," answered I, "and you need not be afraid that I
will seek to compromise you, gentlemen. Tell me where to find the
nearest justice of the peace, and I will go and surrender myself."

"It is your wisest and best policy," said the elder; "I am not in the
commission, but a neighbor of mine is, and lives a few miles off, and if
you like we'll accompany you to his house."

I accepted the offer, and soon found myself descending the steep path of
the mountain in perfect good-fellowship with the two strangers. It is
likely enough, that if they had taken any peculiar pains to obliterate
the memory of our first meeting, or if they had displayed any
extraordinary efforts of conciliation, that I should be on my guard
against them; but their manner, on the contrary, was easy and unaffected
in every respect. They spoke of the expedition sensibly and
dispassionately, and while acknowledging that there were many things
they would like to see altered in the English rule of Ireland, they were
very averse from the desire of a foreign intervention to rectify them.

I avowed to them that we had been grossly deceived. That all the
representations made us, depicted Ireland as a nation of soldiers,
wanting only arms and military stores to rise as a vast army. That the
peasantry were animated by one spirit, and the majority of the gentry
willing to hazard every thing on the issue of a struggle. Our Killala
experiences, of which I detailed some, heartily amused them, and it was
in a merry interchange of opinions that we now walked along together.

A cluster of houses, too small to be called a village, and known as the
"Cranagh," stood in a little nook of the bay; and here they lived. They
were brothers; and the elder held some small appointment in the revenue,
which maintained them as bachelors in this cheap country. In a low
conversation that passed between them, it was agreed