Go in, Nancy Corbett, and let no women appear till all is over."

"Liar!" said Nancy, spitting on the ground as she passed by Cornbury.

"Bind his eyes, and lead him to the western edge," said the leader.

"Philip Cornbury, you have but few minutes to live. In mercy, you may
see the holy father, if you wish it."

"I'm no d----d papist," replied Cornbury, in a sulky tone.

"Lead him on then."

Cornbury was led to the western edge of the flat, where the cliff was
most high and precipitous, and then made to kneel down.

"Fitzpatrick," said the leader, pointing to the condemned.

Fitzpatrick walked up to the kneeling man with his loaded pistol, and
then the others, who had led Cornbury to the edge of the cliff, retired.

Fitzpatrick cocked the lock.

"Would you like to say, 'God have mercy on my treacherous sinful sowl,'
or anything short and sweet like that?" said Fitzpatrick; "if so, I'll
wait a couple of seconds more for your convanience, Philip Cornbury."

Cornbury made no reply. Fitzpatrick put the pistol to his ear, the ball
whizzed through his brain, the body half raised itself from its knees
with a strong muscular action, and then toppled over and disappeared
down the side of the precipice.

"It's to be hoped that the next time you lave this world, Master
Cornbury, it will be in a purliter sort of manner. A civil question
demands a civil answer anyhow," said Fitzpatrick, coolly rejoining the
other men.

Chapter XVIII

The whole of which has been fudged out of the History of England, and
will therefore be quite new to the majority of our readers.

Were we in want of materials for this eventful history, we have now a
good opportunity for spinning out our volumes; but, so far from this
being the case, we hardly know how to find space for what it is now
absolutely necessary that the reader should be acquainted with. Our
friends may probably recollect, when we remind them of the fact, that
there was a certain king, James II., who sat upon our throne, and who
was a very good Catholic--that he married his daughter, Mary, to one
William of Orange, who, in return for James's kindness in giving him his
daughter, took away from him his kingdom, on the plea, that if he was a
bad son-in-law, at all events, he was a sound Protestant. They may also
recollect, that the exiled king was received most hospitably by the
grand monarque, Louis XIV., who gave him palaces, money, and all that he
required, and, more