“'Sir—Having associated for the safety and quiet of this portion of the country, aa well as for the protection of our families and properties, we feel ourselves particularly called upon, on an occasion like the present, to stand forward and repel the attack made upon this loyal corps, and, indeed, on the whole body of yeomanry throughout this kingdom—in spiriting away, by your letters and undue influence, some of our members, and attempting to procure others to be withdrawn from a corps already enrolled, armed, and complete. Be assured, sir, we shall be at all times ready, and happy to afford every assistance in the formation of any new corps in our neighborhood, provided this co-operation shall have no effect in diminishing our own.
“'We, therefore, call upon you to reflect on the measures you have taken and are taking, and not to persevere in the error of keeping such deserters from our troop as have joined yours; as we shall in the case of your persisting to do so, most certainly publish the whole course of your proceedings in this matter for the satisfaction of our loyal brethren throughout the kingdom, and leave them to decide between you and us.
“'Philip M'Clutchy, Chairman. “'Valentine M'Cldtchy, Captain. “'Richard Armstrong, Second Lieutenant. “'Robebt M'bullet. “'Charles Cartridge. “'Boniface Buckram. “'Dudley Fulton, Secretary.'”
To these documents, which were so artfully worded as to implicate Hartley without openly committing themselves, that gentleman having already had the understanding with Lord Cumber of which our readers are already cognizant made the following brief reply.
“'To Richard Armstrong, Esq., second Lieutenant of the Castle Cumber Cavalry:—
“Sir: I have received two resolutions passed at a meeting of your troop in Castle Cumber, and regret to say, for the sake of the Yeomanry service of the country, that I cannot send any communication to those who bear the two first names on your committee. I trust I am a gentleman, and that I shall not knowingly be found corresponding with any but gentlemen. I have only now simply to say, that I repel with great coolness—for indignation I feel none—the charges that have been brought against me, both in the resolutions, and the letter which accompanied them. Neither shall I take further notice of any letters or resolutions you may send me, as I have no intention in future of corresponding with any one on the subject, with the exception of Lord Cumber himself, with whom I have had recent communications touching this matter.
“I am, sir, &c, “Henry Hartley.”
Our readers are, no doubt, a good deal surprised, that Phil, knowing, from sad experience, the courage for which all the Hartley family were so remarkable, should have ventured to undertake the post of chairman, on an occasion where such charges were advanced against the gentleman in question. And, indeed, so they ought to be surprised, as upon the following morning no man living felt that sensation so deeply or painfully as did worthy Phil himself, who experienced the tortures of the damned. The whole secret of the matter, therefore, is, that Phil had lately taken to drink—to drink at all hours too—morning, noon, and night. In vain did his father remonstrate with him upon the subject; in vain did he entreat on one occasion and command on another. Phil, who was full of valor under certain circumstances, told his father he did not care a curse for him, and d—d his honor if he would allow him to curb him in that manner. The fact is, that Phil was at the present period of our tale, as corrupt and profligate a scoundrel as ever walked the earth. His father had no peace with him and received little else at his hands than contempt, abuse, and threats of being horsewhipped. Perhaps if our readers can remember the extermination scene at Drum Dhu, together with the appearance of Kate Clank, they will be disposed to think that the son's conduct now, was very like judicial punishment on the father for what his own had been. Be this as it may—on the following morning after the meeting at Castle Cumber, Phil's repentance, had it been in a good cause, ought to have raised him to the calendar. In truth, it rose to actual remorse.
“Damn my honor, M'Clutchy”—for that was now the usual respectful tone of his address to him—“were you not a precious old villain to allow me to take the chair yesterday, when you knew what cursed fire-eaters these Hartleys are?”
“That, Phil, comes of your drinking brandy so early in the day. The moment you were moved into the chair—and, by the way, I suspect M'Bullet had a mischievous design in it—I did everything in my power, that man could do, to prevent you from taking' it.”