med with swords and
bludgeons. Then, like a true Amazon,

Her back against a tree she bore,
And firmly placed her foot before,

and defended herself for some time, till one of the gang ran a sword up
her arm from her wrist to her elbow, and obliged her to drop her weapon.
Being no longer able to resist between extreme pain and loss of blood, she
was taken to a cabin, where the cousin came in with a priest and some
others. The priest told her that if she submitted to the ceremony of
marriage with Mr. Flinn, she should be treated with kindness and respect.
She declared she would rather die than marry one who had been guilty of
such outrageous conduct. They tried to force the ring on her finger, and
the priest was proceeding with the ceremony when the lady seized a jug of
milk which stood on a table near and dashed it in the face of "His
Reverence." Some of the party coming in gave the alarm to Flinn, saying in
a whisper that the country was raised and in pursuit of them. More
messengers came to confirm the news. The lady's arm was still bleeding
profusely, and they carried her out and plunged her up to the shoulder in
a bog, two men being left to guard her. This singular treatment stopped
the bleeding, but, though she was soon rescued, she remained twenty-one
days in great pain and danger. Her sister had previously escaped in time
to give the alarm. Some months after they came to Dublin and read their
recantation in Dr. Delany's church.

Miss MacDermot's courage was certainly admirable, but it must be admitted
that Mr. Flinn was not without his share of the same quality. Few men in
these degenerate times would care to have so brave a wife. Indeed, some of
these Irish dames were quite capable of defending both their rights and
their privileges against assailants belonging to what is called the
"stronger sex." Sir Jonah Barrington's great-aunt, Mrs. Elizabeth
Fitzgerald, and her husband held the castle of Moret against the O'Cahils,
who claimed it as having been originally theirs and taken from them by
another Elizabeth, the queen of England. They were repulsed with much
slaughter, but Squire Fitzgerald had the imprudence to venture outside the
walls, and was carried off by the survivors of the hostile faction. They
approached the castle again with their prisoner, and one of the party,
exhibiting a white cloth on a pike, came forward: "I'm a truce, my lady.
Look here!" (showing the terrified squire): "we have your