exertion made to prevent him from accelerating his own fate. So true
is it that public feeling scruples not to gratify its appetite for
excitement, even at the risk or actual cost of human life. His parents
and relations mourned him as if he had been already dead. The grief
of his mother had literally broken down her voice so much, that from
hoarseness, she was almost unintelligible. His aged father sat and wept
like a child; and it was in vain that any of their friends attempted to
console them. During the latter part of the day, every melancholy stroke
of the death bell pierced their hearts; the dead march, too, and the
black flag waving, as if in triumph over the lifeless body of their only
son, the principal support of their declining years, filled them with
a gloom and terror, which death, in its common shape, would not have
inspired. This savage pageant on the part, of the Dead Boxer, besides
being calculated to daunt the heart of any man who might accept his
challenge, was a cruel mockery of the solemnities of death. In this
instance it produced such a sensation as never had been felt in that
part of the country. An uneasy feeling of wild romance, mingled with
apprehension, curiosity, fear, and amazement, all conspired to work upon
the imaginations of a people in whom that quality is exuberant, until
the general excitement became absolutely painful.

Perhaps there was not one among his nearest friends who felt more
profound regret for having been the occasion of his disgrace, and
consequently of the fate to which he had exposed him, than Meehaul Neil.
In the course of that day he sent his father to old Lamh Laudher, to
know if young O'Rorke would grant him an interview, the object of which
was to dissuade him from the battle.

"Tell him," said the latter, with a composure still tinged with a
sorrowful spirit, "that I will not see him to-day. To-morrow I may,