loo GARRYOWEN 



" The time has come to put an end to the big 

 grazing ranches and to plant the people on the 

 soil," say the Patriots — as though the people were 

 seed potatoes. " You mustn't take a farm on an 

 eleven-month agreement," goes on this Areopagus 

 of plunderers and short-sighted politicians. "For," 

 continue the Patriots, " if you do, we'll drive the 

 cattle off your land with hazel sticks, and on you 

 we will commit every dirty, petty outrage that 

 the black heart of a low-down Irishman can 

 invint. Begob! " And they do. 



The Law of the Patriots is the law of the West of 

 Ireland. King Edward does not reign there in 

 the least. 



" Come down here," cried Mr French one 

 morning, standing in the hall and calling up the 

 stairs, where he had caught the flutter of Miss 

 Grimshaw's skirt. " Come down here till I show 

 you something you've never seen before. Come 

 in here." 



He led the way into a small room where he 

 received farmers and tenants, and there, sitting on 

 a chair, was an old man with a face furrowed hke 

 a ploughed field. His battered old hat was on the 

 floor, and he held in his hand two cows' tails; 

 and there he sat, half purbhnd, and twisting the 

 tails in his hands, a living picture of age and 

 poverty and affliction. 



" Don't get up, Rj'-an. Sit you down where you 

 are," said French, " and tell the young lady what 

 you have in your hands." 



