been, I believe, but few hard fights in the world, to which Irishmen
have had anything to say, without a Hugh Riley somewhere in the thickest
part of them.

The preparations being now complete, Murray anchored his shallop near a
convenient landing,--perhaps within the Mattapony Creek.

In the dead of winter, about the 30th of January, 1685, Mrs. Talbot,
with her servants, her child, and nurse, set forth from the Proprietary
residence in St. Mary's, to journey over to the Patuxent,--a cold, bleak
ride of fifteen miles. The party were all on horseback: the young boy,
perhaps, wrapped in thick coverings, nestling in the arms of one of the
men: Mrs. Talbot braving the sharp wind in hood and cloak, and warmed
by her own warm heart, which beat with a courageous pulse against the
fierce blasts that swept and roared across her path. Such a cavalcade,
of course, could not depart from St. Mary's without observation at any
season; but at this time of the year so unusual a sight drew every
inhabitant to the windows, and set in motion a current of gossip that
bore away all other topics from every fireside. The gentlemen of the
Council, too, doubtless had frequent conference with the unhappy wife of
their colleague, during her sojourn in the Government House, and perhaps
secretly counselled with her on her adventure. Whatever outward or
seeming pretext may have been adopted for this movement, we can hardly
suppose that many friends of the Proprietary were ignorant of its
object. We have, indeed, evidence that the enemies of the Proprietary
charged the Council with a direct connivance in the scheme of Talbot's
escape, and made it a subject of complaint against Lord Baltimore that
he afterwards approved of it.

Upon her arrival at the Patuxent, Mrs. Talbot went immediately on board