s were flying in every
direction--so thick, indeed, that it might with truth be assevervated,
that many who were petrified in the dust, had their skulls broken in
this great battle between the factions.--God help poor Ireland! when
its inhabitants are so pugnacious, that even the grave is no security
against getting their crowns cracked, and their bones fractured! Well,
any how, skulls and bones flew in every direction--stones and brick-bats
were also put in motion; spades, shovels, loaded whips, pot-sticks,
churn-staffs, flails, and all kinds of available weapons were in hot
employment.

"But, perhaps, there was nothing more-truly felicitous or original in
its way than the mode of warfare adopted by little Neal Malone, who was
tailor for the O'Callaghan side: for every tradesman is obliged to fight
on behalf of his own faction. Big Frank Farrell, the miller, being
on the O'Hallaghan side, had been sent for, and came up from his mill
behind the town, quite fresh. He was never what could be called a good
man,* though it was said that he could lift ten hundred weight. He
puffed forward with a great cudgel, determined to commit slaughter
out of the face, and the first man he met was the weeshy fraction of
a tailor, as nimble as a hare. He immediately attacked him, and would
probably have taken his measure for life had not the tailor's activity
protected him. Farrell was in a rage, and Neal, taking advantage of his
blind fury, slipped round him, and, with a short run, sprung upon the
miller's back, and planted, a foot upon the threshold of each coat
pocket, holding by the mealy collar of his waistcoat. In this position
he belabored the miller's face and eyes with his little hard fist to
such purpose, that he had him in the course of a few minutes nearly
as blind as a mill-horse. The' miller roared for assistance, but the
pell-mell was going on too warmly for his cries to be available. In
fact, he resembled an elephant with a monkey on his back.

* A brave man. He was a man of huge size and prodigious
strength, and died in consequence of an injury he received
in lifting one of the cathedral bells at Clogher, which is
said to be ten hundredweight.

"'How do you like that, Farrell?' Neal would say, giving him a
cuff--'and that, and that; but that is best of all. Take it again,
gudgeon (two cuffs more)--here's grist for you (half a dozen
additional)--hard fortune to you! (crack, crack.) What! going to lie