dreadful thirst for human blood seemed to seize the people, and the mere pleasure of tormenting them induced them to send several miles for prisoners, when those they had taken were all dispatched. Still, while our indignation is roused against the inhuman conduct of the Roman clergy, Christian charity teaches us to throw the mantle of charity over the deceived and deluded multitude, who were obsequious to their biddings.

CHAPTER XI.

Battle of Ross-7,000 insurgents slain-Oath found in the pocket of a Catholic.

TURNING from these scenes, at which humanity shudders, let us direct our attention to the more manly, though equally deplorable movements of their accumulating army.

During these transactions, expresses had been sent by the Loyalists to Dublin for aid, and troops began to arrive and concentrate at Ross, in the neighborhood of which we left the division of insurgents under B. B. Harvy, reveling and banqueting, on the eve of an eventful battle.

Ross was a place of considerable importance: it was situated on the eastern bank of a fine river, over which, at this place, there was an elegant bridge, seven hundred and thirty feet long, and forty feet wide. The town lay at the foot of a steep hill, down which most of the roads leading into the town were constructed on this hill the "look-out" guard of the garrison was placed. It has already been remarked that, on the evening of the 4th of June, the rebel army, 37,000 strong, encamped on Corbet Hill, half a mile from Ross. The picket guard on the hill above the town saw the rebels take position, and fired a gun at them. Notice of their approach was communicated to the garrison, which was drawn up at the evening parade. General. Johnson immediately marched out his men to meet them; but deeming it rather too late to commence hostilities, he posted his men advantageously, where they stood under arms till morning, observing the most profound silence. Fortunately for the Loyalists, that evening Lord Mountjoy, colonel of a regi ment of loyal troops, from Dublin, arrived, and united his force with that under General Johnson, for the defense of the place. This increased the number of troops to over

1,700 men. Mountjoy's men were weary and enfeebled by a forced march, and had suffered from hunger; but, without time or means of refreshment, marched out to meet the enemy. The conflict, however, did not commence till morning.

Early on the morning of the 4th, B. B. Harvy put his men in order. He then held a council of war, where it was determined to summon the town to surrender, supposing that, like Wexford, it would become an easy prey. Harvy therefore dispatched the following summons to General Johnson:

"SIR,-As a friend to humanity, I request you will surrender the town of New Ross to the Wexford forces now assembled against it. Your resistance will but provoke rapine and plunder, to the ruin of the innocent. Flushed with victory, the Wexford forces, now insurmountable and irresistible, will not be controlled if they meet with resistance.

"To prevent the total ruin of all property in the town, I urge you to a speedy surrender-a surrender which you will be forced to in a few hours, with loss and bloodshed, as you are surrounded on all sides. Your answer is requested in a few hours.

"Citizen Furlong comes with this letter, and will bring the answer. I am, sir, etc.,

"B. B. HARVY, M. G."

"Camp, Corbet Hill, half-past three o'clock,

Tuesday, 5th June, 1798."

When Furlong approached the advanced guard, they shot him down. This was an unwarrantable and injudicious act, and, it is but just to say, it was not authorized by the commander of the garrison.

The summons, which was found in the pocket of the unfortunate messenger, was forwarded to headquarters, but

no answer was returned. At four o'clock in the morning the insurgent army advanced to the attack, confident of success from their numbers-37,000 against scarce 1,800 men. The advanced posts of the loyal army were soon driven in, though they kept up, in their movement, a smart fire on the assailants. The insurgents approached in tolerable order. They drove before them all the cattle they could collect, for the purpose of disordering the ranks of the loyal army: a few discharges of grape and canister, however, soon sent them scampering over the plains and fields.

As the dense columns of the insurgents approached, they were met with a cool, but well-directed fire, from a portion of the troops under General Johnson. The fire was returned with great spirit by the insurgents, who now entered the town with enthusiastic shouts. But their advancing columns were mowed down by a deadly fire of musketry. Artillery was now brought to bear on the vast masses crowding to the scene of destruction. At every fire of the cannon a storm of grape-shot opened wide gaps in the insurgent body; these, however, were soon filled with others, who, in turn, were mowed down like grass. But thousands still behind, many half intoxicated and void of fear, rushed on, like tigers, to the onset. The artillery being in imminent danger of being taken, it was now withdrawn a short distance.

Encouraged by this movement, the insurgents shouted, and rushed down the street. Here they were met by a division of cavalry, who were ordered to charge through them. The horsemen could only cut their way into the solid masses, and now a terrible carnage ensued; heaps of dead lay piled up in confusion. The sabres of the desperate cavalry glittered in the sunbeams; and waving high over their heads, they fell on the maddened ranks below: frightened and wounded horses, riderless, rushed madly

through the field, trampling beneath their iron hoofs the crowded and terrified rebels.

To save their comrades, who were being cut to pieces by the horsemen, Harvy directed a body of pikemen to advance in front; and, as the retiring rebels gave way, these, with their long-handled weapons, stood firmly before the advancing cavalry. The latter, finding their swords too short to contend against such arms, were in turn obliged to retreat. For four hours had the action now been raging, and the streams from human bosoms rolled down the streets in torrents. Numbers, enthusiasm, and native valor, contended with military discipline, cool daring, and the tactics of war, and as yet victory hung in an even balance over the unequal hosts.

Steadily, however, the assailants pushed their raging masses onward to the centre of the town, climbing over heaps of the dead and dying; they threw themselves, like furies, on the wearied columns of the loyal troops; the ground trembled amid the shock and roar of battle, and the sound of clashing steel rang on the air. The Dublin troops, which had partly given way, were rallied by the brave Mountjoy, and led afresh to the charge; and the action was revived again in every part of the town, and raged with redoubled fury. At this moment the intrepid Colonel Mountjoy fell, pierced with a fatal ball; for a few moments his regiment fought like veterans round their fallen commander, but soon their thinned ranks were seen to waver; and, as there seemed no end to the torrent of assailants which poured in upon them, they retreated hastily from the town, across the bridge, and victory now perched on the insurgent banners.

As the retreating troops halted beyond the bridge, General Johnson came galloping up, crying, as he waved his sword over his head, "SOLDIERS! I will lay my bones this