unt
down and secure such dreadful depredators.

The waste and mischief they had committed in one night were absolutely
astonishing. Bean and turnip fields, and vegetable enclosures of all
descriptions, kitchen-gardens, corn-fields, and even flower-gardens,
were rooted up and destroyed with an appearance of system which would
have done credit to Terry Alt himself.

Their speed was the theme of every tongue. Hedges were taken in their
flight, and cleared in a style that occasioned the country people to
turn up their eyes, and scratch their heads in wonder. Dogs of all
degrees bit the dust, and were caught up dead in stupid amazement by
their owners, who began to doubt whether or not these extraordinary
animals were swine at all. The depredators in the meantime had adopted
the Horatian style of battle. Whenever there was an ungenerous advantage
taken in the pursuit, by slipping dogs across or before their path,
they shot off, at a tangent through the next crowd; many of whom they
prostrated in their flight; by this means they escaped the dogs until
the latter were somewhat exhausted, when, on finding one in advance of
the rest, they turned, and, with standing bristles and burning tusks,
fatally checked their pursuer in his full career. To wheel and fly until
another got in advance, was then the plan of fight; but, in fact the
conflict was conducted on the part of the Irish pigs with a fertility of
expediency that did credit to their country, and established for those
who displayed it, the possession of intellect far superior to that of
their opponents. The pigs now began to direct their course towards the
sties in which they had been so well fed the night before. This being
their last flight they radiated towards one common centre, with a
fierceness and celerity that occasioned the woman and children to take
shelter within doors. On arriving at the sties, the ease with which they
shot themselves over the four-feet walls was incredible. The farmer had
caught the alarm, and just came out in time to witness their return; he
stood with his hands driven down into the pockets of his red, capacious
waistcoat, and uttered not a word. When the last of them came bounding
into the sty, Hodge approached, quite breathless and exhausted:

"Oh, measter," he exclaimed, "these be not Hirish pigs at oll, they be
Hirish devils; and yau mun ha' bought 'em fra a cunning mon!"

[Illustration: PAGE 911-- These be not Hirish pigs at oll]

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