at into the baskets thrown across the meagre back of a
starveling ass. And farther on there were low-lying, swampy fields, and
between them and the roadside a few miserable poplars with cabins sunk
below the dung-heaps, and the meagre potato-plots lying about them; and
then, as these are passed, there are green enclosures full of fattening
kine, and here and there a dismantled cottage, one wall still black with
the chimney's smoke, uttering to those who know the country a tale of
eviction. Beyond these, beautiful plantations sweep along the crests of
the hills, the pillars of a Georgian house showing at the end of a
vista. The carriage turned up a narrow road, and our travellers came
upon a dozen policemen grouped round a roadside cottage, out of which
the furniture had just been thrown. The family had taken shelter from
the rain under a hawthorn-tree, and the agents were consulting with
their bailiffs if it would not be as well to throw down the walls of the
cottage.

'If we don't,' one of the men said, 'they will be back again as soon as
our backs are turned, and our work will have to be begun all over
again.'

'Shocking,' Alice said, 'that an eviction scene should be our last
glimpse of Ireland. Let us pay the rent for them, Edward,' and as she
spoke the words the thought passed through her mind that her almsgiving
was only another form of selfishness. She wished her departure to be
associated with an act of kindness. She would have withdrawn her
request, but Edward's hand was in his pocket and he was asking the agent
how much the rent was. Five years' rent was owing--more than the
travellers had in their purses.

'It is well that we cannot assist them to remain here,' said Edward.
'Circumstances are different, and they will harden; none is of use here.
Of what use--'

'You believe, then, that this misery will last for ever?'

'Nothing lasts in Ireland but the priests. And now let us forget
Ireland, as many have done before us.'

* * * * *

Two years and a half have passed away, and the suburban home predicted
by May, when she came to bid Alice a last good-bye, arises before the
reader in all its yellow paint and homely vulgarity. In this suburb we
find the ten-roomed house with all its special characteristics--a
dining-room window looking upon a commodious area with dust and coal
holes. The drawing-room has two windows, and the slender balcony is
generally set with flower-boxe