of enduring them. For a momont fancy
repeopled it;--again the stir of life, pastime, mirth, and hospitality
echoed within its walls; the train of his long departed relatives
returned; the din of rude and boisterous enjoyment peculiar to the
times; the cheerful tumult of the hall at dinner; the family feuds and
festivities; the vanities and the passions of those who now slept in
dust;--all--all came before him once more, and played their part in the
vision of the moment!

As he walked on, the flitting wing of a bat struck him lightly in
its flight; he awoke from the remembrances which crowded on him, and,
resuming his journey, soon arrived at the inn of the nearest town, where
he stopped that night. The next morning he saw his agent for a short
time, but declined entering upon business. For a few days more he
visited most of the neighboring gentry, from whom he received sufficient
information to satisfy him that neither he himself nor his agent
was popular among his tenantry. Many flying reports of the agent's
dishonesty and tyranny were mentioned to him, and in every instance he
took down the names of the parties, in order to ascertain the truth.
M'Evoy's case had occurred more than ten years before, but he found
that the remembrance of the poor man's injury was strongly and bitterly
retained in the recollections of the people--a circumstance which
extorted from the blunt, but somewhat sentimental soldier, a just
observation:--"I think," said he, "that there are no people in the world
who remember either an injury or a kindness so long as the Irish."

When the tenants were apprised of his presence among them, they
experienced no particular feeling upon the subject. During all his
former visits to his estate, he appeared merely the creature and puppet
of his agent, who never acted the bully, nor tricked himself out in his
brief authority more imperiously than he did before him. The knowledge
of this damped them, and rendered any expectations of redress or justice
from the landlord a matter not to be thought of.

"If he wasn't so great a man," they observed, "who thinks it below him
to speak to his tenants, or hear their complaints, there 'ud be some
hope. But that rip of hell, Yallow Sam, can wind him round his finger
like a thread, an' does, too. There's no use in thinkin' to petition
him, or to lodge a complaint against Stony Heart, for the first thing
he'd do 'ud be to put it into the yallow-boy's hands, an' thin,