eagerly
together in Irish; and as each came out of the office, he was speedily
surrounded by several others, questioning him as to how he had fared,
and what success he met with.

Few came forth satisfied--not one happy-looking. Some, who were
deficient a few shillings, were sent back again, and appeared with the
money still in their hands, which they counted over and over, as
if hoping to make it more. Others, trusting to promptitude in their
payments, were seeking renewal of their tenures at the same rent, and
found their requests coldly received, and no pledge returned. Others,
again, met with severe reproaches as to the condition of their dwellings
and the neglected appearance of their farms, with significant hints that
slovenly tenants would meet with little favour, and, although pleading
sickness and distress, found the apology hut slightly regarded.

"We thought the ould agent bad enough; but, faix, this one bates him
out, entirely." Such was the comment of each and all, at the treatment
met with, and such the general testimony of the crowd.

"Owen Connor! Owen Connor!" called out a voice, which Owen in a moment
recognised as that of the fellow who had visited his cabin; and passing
through the densely crowded hall, Owen forced his way into the small
front parlour, where two clerks were seated at a table, writing.

"Over here; this way, if you please," said one of them, pointing with
his pen to the place he should stand in. "What's your name?"

"Owen Connor, sir."

"What's the name of your holding?"

"Ballydorery, Knockshaughlin, and Cushaglin, is the townlands, and the
mountain is Slieve-na-vick, sir."

"Owen Connor, Owen Connor," said the clerk, repeating the name three or
four times over. "Oh, I remember; there has been no rent paid on your
farm for some years.''

"You're right there, sir," said Owen; "the landlord, God be good to him!
tould my poor father--"

"Well, well, I have nothing to do with that--step inside--Mr. Lucas
will speak to you himself;--shew this man inside, Luffey;" and the grim
bailiff led the way into the back parlour, where two gentlemen were
standing with their backs to the fire, chatting; they were both young
and good-looking, and, to Owen's eyes, as unlike agents as could be. .

"Well, what does this honest fellow want?--no abatement, I hope; a
fellow with as good a coat as you have, can't be very ill off."

"True for you, yer honor, and I am not," said Owen in reply to