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Updated: June 12, 2025
We need not again assure our readers that Julia Purcel possessed the characteristic firmness and courage of her family, but notwithstanding this she felt somewhat alarmed at the appearance of a lawless Whiteboy, who was at that moment most probably on his return from the perpetration of some midnight atrocity.
"Sally, achora," said Phelim, when he saw her in distress, "what's the fun? Where's your father?" "Oh, Phelim," she replied, bursting into tears, "long runs the fox, but he's cotch at last. My father's in gaol." Phelim's jaw dropped. "In gaol! Chorp an diouol, no!" "It's thruth, Phelim. Curse upon this Whiteboy business, I wish it never had come into the counthry at all."
She had scarcely uttered the last words, when a single Whiteboy, with blackened face, made his appearance at the end of the kitchen stairs, and approached them, waving his hands with a mingled expression of distraction and entreaty. "Dear John," he exclaimed, "be patient; and Julia, be calm, and hear me.
She had unconsciously paused a moment when the Whiteboy, as she believed him to be, first made his appearance, but now she pursued her way home, the latter, however, accompanying her. "Why, my dear Julia, I am thunderstruck! What can I have done thus to incur your displeasure?" "You are rude and impertinent, sir, to address me with such unjustifiable familiarity.
Was she fainting or in hysterics, or so overcome by terror as to be unconscious? 'I'll make you any wager you like, Kate did the whole thing herself. There was a Whiteboy attack to force the stairs when she was a child, and I suppose we rehearsed that combat fully fifty ay, five hundred times. Kate always took the defence, and though we were sometimes four to one, she kept us back. 'By Jove!
It was in the dining-room of the shooting-lodge that the Whiteboy meetings were uniformly held, although of late it had been usual for those who attended them to sit in Finnerty's house until the hour had arrived for commencing business, when they adjourned to the other.
Such measures as the Whiteboy Act of 1787, or the Insurrection Act and the Habeas Corpus Suppression Act of 1796, which were readily passed whilst the Irish Parliament was completely independent, are frequently referred to by modern agitators as amongst the brutal Coercion Acts which the tyranny of England has forced on an innocent people.
"Will you have anything to ate or dhrink," asked the guide of M'Carthy.. "Nothing," replied the other; "I only wish to get to bed." "Come, then," said the colossal Whiteboy, "I'll show you where you're to lie." They accordingly left the kitchen, passed through a tolerably large room, with two or three tables and several chairs in it, and entered another, which was also of a good size.
He then pulled out an old piece of crumpled paper that contained a mixture of lampblack and grease, with which he besmeared his whole face, from his neck to the roots of his hair, after which he stripped the shirt he wore outside his clothes, and in about two or three minutes completely metamorphosed our friend M'Carthy into a thorough-looking Whiteboy.
I probably have put the question too abruptly; but, in the meantime, you will have the goodness, either to go on before me, or to fall back, as I presume, you will grant that it is neither delicate nor becoming for me, who wear no disguise and am known, to be seen at such an hour holding conversation with a Whiteboy."
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