good liquor before us. The
Captain in his quality of talker, I in my capacity of listener,
had filled and refilled several times. There was not anything like
inebriety, but there was that amount of exultation, a stage higher than
mere excitement, which prompts men, at least men of temperaments like
mine, not to suffer themselves to occupy rear rank positions, but at any
cost to become foreground and prominent figures.

"You have heard of the M'Gillicuddys, I suppose?" asked I. He nodded,
and I went on. "You see, then, at this moment before you, the last of
the race. I mean, of course, of the elder branch, for there are swarms
of the others, well to do and prosperous also, and with fine estated
properties. I 'll not weary you with family history. I 'll not refer to
that remote time when my ancestors wore the crown, and ruled the fair
kingdom of Kerry. In the Annals of the Four Masters, and also in the
Chronicles of Thealbogh O'Faudlemh, you 'll find a detailed account of
our house. I 'll simply narrate for you the immediate incident which has
made me what you see me,--an outcast and a beggar.

"My father was the tried and trusted friend of that noble-hearted but
mistaken man, Lord Edward Fitzgerald. The famous attempt of the year
'eight was concerted between them; and all the causes of its failure,
secret as they are and forever must be, are known to him who now
addresses you. I dare not trust myself to talk of these times or
things, lest I should by accident let drop what might prove strictly
confidential. I will but recount one incident, and that a personal one,
of the period. On the night of Lord Edward's capture, my father, who had
invited a friend--deep himself in the conspiracy--to dine with him,
met his guest on the steps of his hall door. Mr. Hammond--this was his
name--was pale and horror-struck, and could scarcely speak, as my father
shook his hand. 'Do you know what has happened, Mac?' said he to my
father. 'Lord Edward is taken, Major Sirr and his party have tracked him
to his hiding-place; they have got hold of all our papers, and we are
lost By this time to-morrow every man of us will be within the walls of
Newgate.'

"'Don't look so gloomily, Tom,' said my father. 'Lord Edward will escape
them yet; he's not a bird to be snared so easily; and, after all, we
shall find means to slip our cables too. Come in, and enjoy your sirloin
and a good glass of port, and you'll view the world more pleasantly.'
With a