Another man got up. “You all know,” said he, “that I hould fourteen acres in the townland of Augha-Winchal; and when Jerry Grogan went to America last spring, I offered for his farm of twelve acres, that lay into my own, marchin it. I offered him the rent he axed, which indeed was too much at any rate—but it lay so snug to me, that I could take more out of it than another. 'You shall have the farm, Frank,' said he; 'but if you do, there must be ten pounds of an Imput.'* Well and good, I paid him the ten pounds, and Paddy Gormly, of Aughadarragh, gave him another Input for the same farm; and yet, hell bellis the villain, he gave it to neither of us, but to one of his own Blood-hounds, who gave him twenty for it. But that wasn't all—when I axed him for my money, he laughs in iny face, and says, 'Is 'it jokin' you are? Keep yourself quiet,' says he, 'or may be I'll make it a black joke to you.' Hell re-save him!”
* Imput—a douceur—or, in other words, a bribe to the
agent, on entering upon a farm.
“He engaged me, and my horse and car,” said another, “and Toal Hart with his, in the same way; to draw stones from Kilrud-den; and he said that whatever we earned he'd allow us in the rint. Of coorse we were glad to bounce at it; and, indeed, he made us both believe that it was a favor he did us. So far so good; but when the rint day came, hell purshue the testher he'd allow either of us; but threatened and abused us, callin' us names till the dogs wouldn't lick our blood. The Lord conshume him for a netarnal villain!”
“That's all very well, but yait till you hear how he sarved me out,” said a poor, simple-looking creature. “It was at the gale day before the last, that I went to him wid my six guineas of rint. 'Paddy Hanlon,' says he, 'I'm glad to see you; an', Paddy, I've something in my eye for you; but don't be spakin' of it. Is that the rent?—hand it to me—an', Paddy, as this is Hurry Day with me—do like a good decent man, call down on Saturday about twelve o'clock, and I'll give you your receipt, and mention the other thing.' By coorse I went highly delighted; but the receipt he gave me was a notice to pay the same gale over agin, tellin' me besides, that of all the complatest rascals ever came acrass him I was the greatest; that he'd banish me off the estate and what not! Accordingly, I had to pay the same rint twiste. Now will any one tell me how that man can prosper by robbin' and oppressin the poor in this way? Hell scorch him!”
The next that rose was a tall, thin-looking man, with much care and sorrow in his face. “Many a happy day,” he said, “did I and mine spend under this roof; and now we may say that we hardly have a roof to cover us. Myself, and my wife, hould a cabin on' the estate of Major Richardson. My sons and daughters, instead of living comfortably at home with us, are now scattered abroad, earnin' their hard bread on other people's floors. And why? Because the Vulture's profligate son couldn't succeed in ruinin' one of my daughters; and because her brother 'Tom tould him that if ever he catched him comin' about the place again, or annoyin' his sisther, he'd split him with a spade. Afther that, they were both very friendly—father and son—and when I brought my half-year's rent—'never mind now,' said they, 'bring it home, Andy; maybe you may want it for something else that 'ud be useful to you. Buy a couple o' cows—or keep it till next rent day; we won't hurry you—you're a dacent man, and we respect you.' Well, I did put the money to other uses, when what should come down on me when the next half year's rent was due, but an Execution. He got a man of his own to swear that I was about to run away wid the rent, and go to America; and in a few days we were scattered widout a house to cover us. May the Lord reward him accordin' to his works!”
There were other unprincipled cases where Phil's profligacy was brought to bear upon the poverty and destitution of the uneducated and unprotected female; but it is not our intention to do more than to allude to them.
We now return to young O'Regan himself, who, at the conclusion, once more got a candle, and precisely in the same manner as he had done in the beginning, held it up and asked in a full firm voice, “mother, do you know your son?” And again received the same melancholy and unconscious gaze. “Now,” said he, “you've all heard an account, and a true account, of these two villains' conduct. What have they left undone? They have cheated you, robbed you, and oppressed you in every shape. They have scourged to death and transported your sons—and they have ruined your daughters, and brought them to sin and shame—sorrow and distraction. What have they left undone, I ax again? Haven't they treated yez like the dirt under their feet? hunted yez like bloodhounds, as they are—and as if ye were mad dogs? What is there that they haven't made yez suffer? Shame, sin, poverty, hardship, bloodshed, ruin, death, and madness; look there”—he added, vehemently pointing to his insane mother—“there's one proof that you see; and you've heard and know the rest. And now for their trial.”
Those blood-stirring observations were followed by a deep silence, in fact, like that of death.
“Now,” said he, pulling out a paper, “I have marked down here twelve names that I will read for you. They are to act as a jury; they are to thry them both for their lives—and then to let us hear their sentence.”
He then read over the twelve names, every man answering to his name as he called them out.