“Well, indeed now, and that I may never die in sin, but I think it an honor to oppose these Sassanagh laws; an’, for that matther, to die opposin’ them; however, as to myself, Mr. Alick, I am by nature of a peaceable, quiet turn, and not likely—­”

“To grace a gibbet, Mogue:  well, I believe not; but what is this you wish to say to me?”

“One or two things then, sir.  First, I hear that Mr. M’Carthy is comin’ down to stay wid the family here, bekaise they say it’s going to be attacked.”

“Well, is it not both a friendly and a manly offer for him to make?”

“Granted, Mr. Alick; but instead of help-in’ you all to keep the danger off, he’ll only be the manes of bringin’ it on; for as soon as it becomes known that he’s here, there will be ten enemies then for one there is now against you.  I happened to overhear a discoorse at the chapel on Sunday last; and it’s from that I’m givin’ you my advice.”

“I don’t care a d—­n,” said the impetuous young man, “about their discourses at chapel.  They go there more for the purpose of plotting murders, and entering into illegal combinations, than for that of praying sincerely or worshipping God!  No; we despise and defy them.”

“Well, then, Mr.—­”

“Silence, Mogue; not another word on that subject.  I am obliged to you, in the meantime, for you kindness, and the interest you feel for us.”

“That my bed may be made in heaven, thin, but I do feel all you say; and why shouldn’t I?  But I said I had a thing or two to mention, an’ although it goes against my heart to say it, still I like your family too well, not to throw you out a hint upon it.  ‘Tis regardin’ Jerry Joyce, ay—­an’ Mr. M’Carthy too, sir.”

“Jerry Joyce and M’Carthy; well, what about them?  Jerry’s a rollicking shallow fool, but honest, I think.”

“Well, Mr. Alick, this is to be buried between you and me.  I say, don’t trust him; an’ as for M’Carthy, it doesn’t become the likes o’ me to disparage him; but if there’s not a traitor to this family in his coat, I’m not here.  It’s purty well known that he’s a Whiteboy; he was a caravat it seems, two years agone, and was wid ould Paudeen Gar when Hanly was hanged for—­”

“And who was Paudeen Gar?” asked the other, interrupting him.

“He was the head o’ the Shanavests, and it so happened, that one Hanly, who was head of the Moyle Bangers, as they wor called, was hanged only for burnin’ the house of a man that tuck a farm over another man’s head.  Now the Shanavests and the Moyle Rangers, you see, bein’ bitther enemies, the Shanavests prosecuted Hanly for the burning, and on the day of his execution, Paudeen Gar stayed under the gallows, and said he wouldn’t lave the place till he’d see the caravat (* Carvat; fact—­such is their origin) put about Hanly’s neck; an’ from that out the Moyle Bangers was never called anything but Caravats.”

“But what does Shanavest mean?”