We there heard of the Ballingarry disaster.

Next morning we once more ascended Slievenamon, where we endeavoured to dissipate the heavy hours and the still heavier consciousness at our own hearts by firing at a mark.

The day suddenly darkened, and we had to seek shelter under rocks from a pitiless mountain shower.

We had dispatched a messenger to O'Mahony to demand an interview that evening; and, after he had returned, we were invited to partake of some new potatoes (then beginning to exhibit the blight), milk, eggs and butter.
I remember lying down in a bed, and getting so feverish that I believed my doom was sealed.

My noble young friend sat at my bedside, with a rifle and two pistols, prepared to defend my rest with his life.