The military force in the town amounted to
seventy-five men, and by the sound of trumpet they were at once summoned
to their post, and positive directions were given that under no
circumstances should the invading party be allowed to enter the town.
The interposition of a long schoolhouse prevented the military from
being seen until the party were within twenty yards of the school. The
orders were then given to prime and load, and I cannot describe what my
feelings were as the clink of the ramrods clearly denoted what was
likely to follow. Fortunately, the force upon this occasion was under
the command of Mr. Michael Galwey, J.P., a gentleman remarkable for his
firmness and courage, his kindness and humanity, and extraordinary
influence among the people. When a sanguinary affray was almost
inevitable, he took advantage of a temporary lull, and cried out in a
stentorian voice: "Three cheers for the Queen, and plenty of employment
to-morrow," a call which was immediately responded to in the best manner
that the weakened vocal powers of the multitude would admit of. The
threatening aspect of affairs was completely changed. Mr. G., in his own
familiar phraseology, said, "H----, we must get the biscuits, and we
will all then go home in good humour.
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