rue. Now, since the Canadian mind was thus roused
up to this pitch of universal excitement, there existed a very general
watch for Fenian emissaries, and any of that brotherhood who showed
himself too openly in certain quarters ran a very serious risk. It was
not at all safe to defy popular opinion. And popular opinion ran
strongly toward the sentiment of loyalty. And anybody who defied that
sentiment of loyalty did it at his peril. A serious peril, too, mind
you. A mob won't stand nonsense. It won't listen to reason. It has a
weakness for summary vengeance and broken bones.

Now, some such sort of a mob as this began to gather quickly and
menacingly round my elderly friend, who had thus so rashly shocked
their common sentiment. In a few moments a wild uproar began.

"Put him out!"

"Knock him down!"

"Hustle him!"

"He's a Fenian!"

"Down with him!"

"Punch his head!"

"Hold him up, and make him stand up!"

"Stand up, you fool!"

"Get up!"

"Up with him! Let's pass him out over our heads!"

"A Fenian!"

"We'll show him he's in bad company!"
"He's a spy!"

"A Fenian spy!"

"Up with him!" "Down with him!" "Pitch into him!" "Out with him!" "Toss
him!" "Hustle him!" "Punch his head!" "Throttle him!" "Level him!"
"Give it to him!" "Turn him inside out!" "Hold up his boots!" "Walk him
off!"

All these, and about fifty thousand more shouts of a similar character,
burst forth from the maddened mob around. All mobs are alike. Any one
who has ever seen a mob in a row can understand the action of this
particular one. They gathered thick and fast around him. They yelled.
They howled. The music of the national anthem was drowned in that wild
uproar. They pressed close to him, and the savage eyes that glared on
him menaced him with something little less than death itself.

And what did he do?

He?

Why he bore himself splendidly.

As the row began, he rose slowly, holding his stick, which I now saw to
be a knotted staff of formidable proportions, and at length reared his
figure to its full height. It was a tall and majestic figure which he
revealed--thin, yet sinewy, and towering over the heads of the roaring
mob around him.

He confronted them all with a dark frown on his brow, and blazing eyes.

"Ye beggars!" he cried. "Come on--the whole pack of ye! A Fenian, ye
say? That's thrue for you. Ye've got one, an' ye'll find him a tough
customer! Come on--the whole thousand of ye!"

And saying this, he