THE KNIGHT OF THE KNIFE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2209, 2 July 1896, Page 42

THE KNIGHT OF THE KNIFE.

Purcell is by no means an uncommon j name, and it'has been borne by a goodly number of unoommon men. And the Purcell I am now interested in' was a Purcell and no mistake. He was one of those strange compositions that Nature moulds .at times to prove what she can do when she is fanoiful, whan'she wants to ] amalgamate different—nay, antagonistic elements. For instance, he was a brave man and a miserly oho, and if there be any characteristics more divergent than bravery and penuridusnesß I am not aware of them. Yet, in the oase I am now speaking of there happened an occasion when the penurious spirit not only was the cause of. life being saved but actually brought about such a condition of affairs that the grit and courage and self-reliance of the Man were evinced in an extraordinary manner. Oar hero's name was John Paroell, commonly called the Knight of the Knife. . . . Those were the days of the Wbiteboys. Maddened peasants, looking for redress of grievances, were foolish enough, wild enough to try to reach right by doing wrong, and, as anybody in sober sense will admit, that is about the crookedeat road to travel -in the whole life of the whole world. John Parcell, on the other hand, would never yield an sinch, and the blood was up on both side?, and vengeance filled the wind. One of Purcell's gifts was a remarkable memory, and he exercisad it in a manner by no means calculated to endear him to the countryside over which ho ruled. It is, for example, narrated of him that he would receive rent from 70 or 80 tenants on the one day, and pass no receipt, nor make any note whatever in a book, placing all the money in a canvas bag, and depending entirely upon his recollection, to make matters square between landlord and tenant. No charge that ever I read or-faeard of could be brought against him on the score of honesty. There 1b no doubt that he was correct to a farthing; but, needless to say, it was a. method of management highly oalculated to exoite the worst feelings of a highly sensitive peasantry, and set tbe fcongae of provincial gossip wagging after a rude fashion. Purcell lived a lonesome life in a lonesorrfo place, and the times were troublesome and bloody, but he feared nothing. He contended that he had not done anything to make him hateful to the peasantry, but I suppose there were two opinions about that, as there are about most things. Anyhow, John went along in bis own queer fashion, a pretty humdrum life, till there came the 11th of March 1811, on the night of whloh mattere suddenly assumed a highly interesting appearanoe. John had come home somewhat late aud tired with a hard day'a routine arfd a long ride; he got his modest supper served in his bedroom. He then went to bed, and; as man/pf aa are obliged to do, he tossed awhile revolving the events of the day in bis mind, when-.suddenly it econrred to him that there were other and more immediate matters claiming his attention. He slept on the ground floor in a room adjoining the parlour, a door' communicating from one apartment to the other. Not having any use for this entrance he had some time before nailed it up, and some of the parlour furniture waa plaoed against it. Now John heard (She distinct oraokle of feet on the gravel in ths front of the house; everything is so easily heard at night, even at times the whisper of our own conscience, which we might* have believed to be forever dumb. He listened attentively, and I can well fancy him lying there in the quiet house and listening with his eyes in the darkness. Aye, with his eyes. Just dote the next time you are startled in the watches of the night, how, when you are afire with apprehension, you will open your eyes and fix them agape, as if to aid your ears, such is the sympathy between the senses. In another moment John Parcell heard bis parlour window pushed in, and immediately he heard the feet of the invaders as they leaped to the floor. He was a brave man, and he gob into no visible or audible flurry, but he calculated that there were 14 aggressors, and then that he had no weapon of defence in the apartment, no gun, no sword, no poignard. Then, just then, his penurious habits stood to him, and he remembered that the knife with which he had cut bis simple supper was on a chair somewhere-about. He rose silently in the blackness and groped around. Meantime the ruffians were moving the furniture away from the old door of the parlour, and avon they tugged and dragged at the door itself. Then John knew it was not robbery they had in their hearts, but murder. He had his knife, and he stood there calmly, with bis naked feet firmly gripped in the floor, determined that if he had to die, he would have company in his doom, J£ ho had only light 1 If he could see the forms of his would-be murderers and know where to thrust 1 Crash 1 In came the old parlour door, and into the room streamed the blebaed moonlight from the front window, at once helping and dismaying John Parcell. The dismay did not last long, however. His badroom waa in darkneas as the shutters were c\oßßd, but he beheld in the moonlight now flooding tbe parlour an armed body of men, some of whom had their faces blackened. Some .of them called to him, bat instead of answering he fastened the table knife more firmly in his hand, and stepped softly to the side of the door jast burst open. Oae of the gang sprang into the room, and instintly John's knife was plunged into him with <>uc'i a deperate thrust that rushing throng v ':. right arm It entered the breast till tho h -.[ gtopped its progress. Tbe fellow reeled ba^k ; among bis comrades with a blasphemous < oath, calling out that he was killed. Another i rushed in and John Paroell's knife went j forth again in similar fashion, and then the i scene became a sort of little war. The leader of the gang, seeing two of his men j lying bleeding to death, and probably not I knowing how many defenders were in the dark room, shouted bis orders to fire into it, and at once a man stepped forward with- a short gun that had the butt broken off and a piece of cord tied round tho barrel at the swell. As this respectable character stood in the act of firing Parcell had the astound* ing coolness to take a steady look at him, and. to cftlQalate. that to* oon.tejn.ts of th*

pleoa would pass oloia to his breast as ha stood in his concealed position. The ihoti was fired and lodged harmlessly in the w*IL where afterwards it was found to oonsist ct a brace of bullets and three slugs. Tteii John, having given bis new visitor W; opportunity, such as it was, made a vet) neat pasß at him with his table knife, and sent him howling baok among his obivalroua comrades.

Well, you know, flesh and blood oonldn'J 1 stand that sort of thing. A gang of murderers never set oat with tho idea of beln a murdered themselves, and when they fin? that the other party offers a protest, particularly a keen one like John's knife, their . astonishment begets indignation. Human nature soon gets tired of continual disappointment, and the leader lost bis temper, and ordered a simultaneous . advance into John's camera obsoura. When the fourth fellow bounded in John stabbed at him repeatedly, and the next moment he received himself a serious blow on the head, and the moment after he found himself grappled with, and— well, then came the tug-of-war. , The floor being slippery with the blood of . the wounded men, Puroall and his adversarj tumbled, interlocked in a deadly embrace. Paroell was undermost, and as he repeatedly stabbed with bis knife he found that it was not by any means doing as neat work as it had done in the beginning of the sensational visitation. H? consequently tried with his finger and found that the top was orookecf, and he had the audacity to endeavour to straighten it on the floor so as to sustain bis well-earned reputation, when ha found the villain's grasp on his throat relaxing, and In. another moment he rolled off him, exhausted from his wounds, in death.

The matter was now beginning to look altogether too serious, ■ and as there was every chance of the- murderers murdering eaoh other in the darkness and that help might arrive at any moment, the brilliant; leader called to bis dogs of war to remove the bodies and retire. John Purcell was a brave man, and a prudent one. While they were tumbling over eaoh other he quietly slipped out of his bedroom, retired to an outhouse, and waited till his assailants left. Only one of tho gang was subsequently detsoted. Purcell had killed two and wounded four, and some had run away thinking the house was defended by several persons. The short gan which was fired at Parcell was found under the bed of a man named Noonan, who was afterwards convicted and hanged at G- allows Ckeen, Cork. He confessed to having been present, but asserted that he never had bsen concerned in any other attaok, and that he had not the slightest reason for going to Purcell's house, only that he was sent for by his " leader," one named Higgins, and ordered to aocompany them. So did the Knight o£ the Knife win h!a spurs.— Weekly. Irish Times.

— Servant Girl (after an Interesting event, to abstracted professor) : " If you pleaee, air, a little boy has arrived." Profeisor : " Well, ask him bis business, or he can. take a. seat and wait."

— " You don't call upon Miss Sarcastic as much as you did ? " " \'o. Facb is, I have reasons for suspuetuig tva r . tny company is not bo agreeable as ifi might be. The last time I was there I suppose I did stay rather long, and when I got up to go Miss Sarcastic said : • Must you go now ? I was in hopes you would stop for breakfast.' Somehow I got an idea thatperhapß it wonld be just 'as well for me not to waste any more time at that house."