Q. Did you see me there?

A. I did not.

Q. How many did you see put to death? A. Mr. Hornick, Mr. Pentland, and another I was then taken down to the bottom of the hill.

man.

Q. by the court. Might not the prisoner have been in the mill without your knowledge?

A. He might; but I did not see him, nor hear tell of him.

Q. Are you now a prisoner?

A. I am.

Q. For what?

A. For suspicion of robbing my next neighbour.

John Rogan sworn.

Q. by the prisoner. Were you on Vinegar-hill on Whitsun-Tuesday?

A. I was not.

James Bryan sworn.

Q. by the prisoner. Were you on Vinegarhill on Whitsun-Tuesday?

A. I was.

Q. At what time?

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A. I was on every part of the hill from nine o'clock until three or four in the evening, and did not see you that day.

Q. Did you see any one taken out of the wind-mill?

A. I did not, but I saw a man dead that had been taken out.

Q. Who was the man?

A. A Mr. Pentland. I was lying on the hill when I heard that Mr. Pentland was to be killed. I ran to save him, but was too late. He was

dead when I got up. I heard that one Connors and one Byrne had killed him.

Q. by the court. Where do you live and what is your religion?

A. I am a Roman catholic, and live in the parish of Killann, of which Mr. Pentland was minister.

Q. What was his character in the parish?

A. He bore a most excellent character; a quiet mild man.

Q. Are you a prisoner now?

A. I am for suspicion of a rape.

William Wilkinson sworn.

Q. by the prisoner. Did you see me during the

rebellion?

A. I did.

Q. Did you see me in the guard-house at Enniscorthy?

A. I did. I was a prisoner there.

Q. What was my conduct there?

A. You used me civilly. You took me and seventeen more out, and saved us, the day that we were ordered to be murdered by Kerns the priest.

Q. Were
you with me during the rebellion?
A. I was very often; almost every day.

Q. What was my character during the rebellion?

A. You saved those I spoke of, but I cannot say any thing farther.

Q. by the court. Did you carry a pike?
A. I did not, nor a gun.

A. I had a stick with a piece of a nail rod in the end of it.

Q. Would it kill a man?

A. It would.

Q. Had you any conversation with the prisoner lately with respect to the evidence you were to give?

A. Not one word. I had no conversation with him on any subject.

Q. Were you not in the gaol with the prisoner?

A. I was not; I never was in the gaol.

Q. Do you swear that you had no conversation at all with the prisoner?

A. I had at a window.

Q. Where was this window?

A. I do not know whether it looked into the gaol yard, or into the street.

Q. Was it not the grated door of his cell you. spoke to him at?

A. I do not know whether it was a door or a window.

Q. Were you not drinking with the prisoner? A. He put a bottle through the bars, and bade me take a sup.

Q. Did not the prisoner give you money?
A. He gave me some to bear my expences.
Q. What expences?

A. The expences I was at to stay for his trial.
Q. When was this?

A. The day before yesterday.

Mary Hall sworn.

Q. by the prisoner. Did you see me during the rebellion?

A. I did. I saw you very often, but I do not recollect any particular day except WhitsunTuesday.

Q. Did you ever see me guilty of any outrage

or crime?

A. I never saw you guilty of any thing but breaking open a house and robbing it.

Q. Whose house was it?

A. Mr. Joseph Sparrow's, where you took every thing, even the sheets under two cripples that lay in the house. You behaved civilly to my little boy, and made the butcher give him a good bit of meat.

Q. by the court. You say you saw the pri soner often; in what capacity?

A. I cannot say. I have seen him with a drawn sword at the head of a party. They obeyed him. I remember he ordered them to fire into Mr. Joseph's Sparrow's house, and they did so. Q. Did you know Mr. Philip Annesly?

A. I did. I saw him dragged out of the mill on Vinegar-hill, the day my husband was murdered. I afterwards saw his body lying dead on the hill.

The reader may see, from the perusal of this trial, that Andrew Farrel, so active in robbery and murder, was a very great coward. In fact, the greatest plunderers and murderers, both of the rebel and of the loyalist parties, were the greatest cowards. This is the most deplorable state of society, when the worthless find themselves able to exert their malignant inclinations with impunity.

This remarkable circumstance attended the death of Andrew Farrel, that he died in the most solemn assertion of an evident falsehood, for what he doubtless regarded as a laudable and generous purpose. When he was led to execution, and on the point of being launched into the other world, he addressed a magistrate in words to this amount:

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Sir, to shew you on what sort of evidence men are liable to be condemned to death in

"this country, I now, at the moment of my