ve of heaven, don't.
There'll be murder here to-day if ye do."

"I have my instructions, Father Cahill, and it's sorry I am to have to
act under them to-day."

"It isn't the people's fault," pleaded the priest; "indeed it isn't."

"We don't wish to hurt them. We want that man O'Connell."

"They'll never give him up. Wait till to-night and take him quietly."

"No, we'll take him here. He's given the police the slip in many parts
of the country. He won't to-day." The magistrate pushed forward on his
horse through the fringe on the front part of the crowd and reined up
at the foot of the mount.

"Frank Owen O'Connell, I arrest you in the Queen's name for inciting
peaceable citizens to violence," he called up to the agitator.

"Arrest me yerself, Mr. Magistrate Roche," replied O'Connell.

Turning to an officer Roche motioned him to seize O'Connell.

As the officer pressed forward he was felled by a blow from a heavy
stick.

In a second the fight was on.

The magistrate read the riot-act.

He, together with Father Cahill, called to the mob to stop. They
shouted to O'Connell to surrender and disperse the people.

Too late.

The soldiers formed into open formation and marched on the mob.

Maddened and reeling, with no order, no discipline, with only blind
fury and the rushing, pulsing blood--that has won many a battle for
England against a common foe--the men of Ireland hurled themselves upon
the soldiers. They threw their missiles: they struck them with their
gnarled sticks: they beat them with their clenched fists.

The order to "Fire" was given as the soldiers fell back from the
onslaught.

When the smoke cleared away the ranks of the mob were broken. Some lay
dead on the turf; some groaned in the agony of shattered limbs. The
women threw themselves moaning on the bodies. Silence fell like a pall
over the mob. Out of the silence a low angry growl went up. O'Connell
had fallen too.

The soldiers surrounded his prostrate body.

The mob made a rush forward to rescue him. O'Connell stopped them with
a cry:

"Enough for to-day, my men." He pointed to the wounded and dying: "Live
to avenge them. Wait until 'The Day'!" His voice failed. He fell back
unconscious.

Into the midst of the crowd and through the ranks of the soldiers
suddenly rode a young girl, barely twenty years old. Beside her was a
terrified groom. She guided her horse straight to the magistrate. He
raised his hat and muttered a greeting,