give to the poor_ being their motto.

The persons who accompanied him on this occasion were three of his own
gang, who usually constituted his body-guard, and acted as videttes,
either for his protection or for the purpose of bringing him information
of such travellers as from their known wealth or external appearance
might be supposed worth attacking. They were well-made, active, and
athletic men, in whom it would not be easy to recognise any particular
character at variance with that of the peasantry around them. It is
unnecessary to say that they were all armed. Having satisfied himself as
to the identity of master and man, with a glance at his companions, the
Rapparee said,

"What on earth brought you and Andy Cummiskey here, noble squire? Oh!
you lost your way Andy says. Well now," he proceeded, "you know I have
been many a day and night on the lookout for you; aye, could have
put daylight through you many and many a time; and what do you think
prevented me?"

"Fear of God, or of the gallows, I hope," replied the intrepid old man.

"Well," returned the Rapparee, with a smile of scorn, "I'm not a man--as
I suppose you may know--that ever feared either of them much--God
forgive me for the one, I don't ask his forgiveness for the other. No,
Squire Folliard, it was the goodness, the kindness, the generosity, and
the charity of the _Cooleen Bawn_, your lovely daughter, that held my
hand. You persecuted my old uncle, the priest, and you would a' hanged
him too, for merely marryin' a Protestant and a Catholic together. Well,
sir, your fair daughter, and her good mother--that's now in heaven,
I hope--went up to Dublin to the Lord Lieutenant, and before him the