Whether the colonel might have dallied still longer is mere conjecture, when a letter marked “haste” was delivered by an orderly dragoon, and in half an hour the “leathern conveniency” was rumbling down the avenue.

The journey of the Wronghead family to London—­if I recollect the pleasant comedy that details it correctly—­was effected without the occurrence of any casualty beyond some dyspeptic consequences to the cook from over-eating.  Would that our migration to the metropolis had been as fortunately accomplished!

We started early; and on reaching the town where we were to breakfast and exchange our own for post-horses, found the place in feverish excitement.  A hundred anxious inquirers were collected in the market-place.  Three hours beyond the usual time of the mail-delivery had elapsed,—­wild rumors were spread abroad,—­a general rising in Leinster was announced,—­and the non-arrival of the post had an ominous appearance, and increased the alarm.

We hurried over the morning meal,—­the horses were being put to,—­the ladies already in the carriage,—­when a dragoon rode in at speed, and the worst apprehensions we had entertained were more than realized by this fresh arrival.  The mail-coach had been plundered and burned, while everywhere, north, east, and west, as it was stated, the rebels were in open insurrection,—­all communication with Dublin was cut off,—­and any attempt to reach the metropolis would have been only an act of madness.

Another express from the south came in.  Matters there were even worse.  The rebels had risen en masse and committed fearful devastation.  The extent of danger in attempting to reach the capital, or return to his mansion, were thus painfully balanced; and my father considering that, as sailors say, the choice rested between the devil and the deep sea, decided on remaining where he was, as the best policy under all circumstances.

The incompetency of the Irish engineering staff, and a defective commissariat, at that time was most deplorable; and although the town of ——­ was notoriously disaffected, the barrack chosen, temporarily, to accommodate the garrison—­a company of militia—­was a thatched building, two stories high, and perfectly commanded by houses in front and rear.  The captain in charge of the detachment knew nothing of his trade, and had been hoisted to a commission in return for the use of a few freeholders.  The Irish read character quickly.  They saw at a glance the marked imbecility of the devoted man; and by an imposition, from which any but an idiot would have recoiled, trapped the silly victim and, worse still, sacrificed those who had been unhappily intrusted to his direction.