while in apparent
meditation, and then suddenly raising himself on his hand, said, in a
full and manly tone--"One thing I still can do in this world, if it
may not be too late. Leave me here; I must die; go back in all haste
to your friends, and tell them to prepare either to fly or defend
their lives. This is the night appointed for the breaking out of the
insurrection. Fifty thousand men are already armed in the mountains,
and ready for the signal to march on the principal towns. The few
troops in the country are to be made prisoners in their barracks. The
government stores are to be divided among the people. Before twelve
hours are over we shall have a force of a hundred thousand men on
foot; and a republic will be proclaimed."

The intelligence was startling, but not wholly unexpected. I demanded
the names of the leaders; but on this head he refused to make any
answer. I next enquired, whether the rebel directory had any hope of
assistance from the Continent. "That I can fully answer," said he, now
almost at his last gasp. "I myself was the negotiator. It is but a
month since I was in Paris. The government agreed to send seven sail
of the line, with ten thousand troops, and Hoche, the favourite
general of the republic, to the north; or, in case of unexpected
obstacles, to the south of Ireland. I have been looking out for their
flag from hour to hour." The man sank back on the ground. I prepared
to run for help, if there were any to be found in that desolate place.
He grasped my hand; his was icy. "No," said he, "I must now be left
alone; I am dying, and I am not sorry to die. I am free from your
blood, and I shall not share in the horrors which I see at hand. Men
in health, and men dying think differently of those things. Farewell!"
He gave my hand a convulsive clasp, and expired.

My situation was an anxious one. Night had fallen, and the hour was
full of peril to those whom I had left behind; it was even possible
that the insurrection might have already broken out. Sounds, which
seemed to me, in the stillness of the hour, to be the signals of the
peasantry--the echoes of horns, and trampling of bodies of
horse--began to rise upon the gust, and yet I was unwilling to leave
my unfortunate victim on the ground. A length a loud shout, and the
firing of musketry on the skirts of the wood, awoke me to a sense of
the real danger of my situation. I forced my way through the thickets,
and saw a skirmish between a large m