e have received far worse than this; it has been
written by some hedge schoolmaster; as for my part, I despise it."

"Well, boys, at all events," proceeded the proctor, "be a little more
sparing with the horse-whip. The scoundrels deserve it to be sure; but
at the same time it is not a thing that can be defended."

"Why, it's impossible to keep it from them, father," replied John;
"their insolence is actually more than flesh and blood can bear. But had
we not better make some inquiries into this precious production?"

"Where is the use of that?" said his father, to whom such communications
had lost all their novelty and much of their interest; "however, you may
do so; perhaps some accidental clue may be found that would lead us to
discover the villain who wrote it."

Mogue was accordingly called in.

"How did this letter come into your hands, Mogue?" asked the proctor.

"It didn't come into them, sir," replied Mogue, with a smile which he
intended to pass, for one of simplicity; "it was lyin' I got it, upon
the hall-door steps."

"Did you see any strange person about the place, or near the hall-door
to-day?" he asked.

"None, sir, sorra a creature--well now, wait--that I may never sup
sorrow, but I did--there was a poor woman, sir, wid a whack of a son
along wid her."

"Did you see her near the steps?"

"That I may be happy, sir, if I could take it upon me to say--not
wishin' to tell a lie--but she might a' been there, the crathur."

"What kind of a looking woman was she?" asked John.

"A poor woman, sir, as I said."

"I do not mean that; of course, I know she was; but what dress had she
on, and what kind of features or complexion had she? Was she big or
little?"

"I'm just thinkin'," replied Mogue, seemingly attempting to recollect
something, "was it to-day or yesterday I seen her."

"Well, but answer directly," said Alick, "what was she like?"

"The son of her was a bullet-headed _ownsha_," replied Mogue, "and
herself--well now, that I may never die in sin, if I could say rightly.
I was fetehin' some oats to Gimlet Eye, an' didn't take any particular
notice. The _ownsha_ had black sooty hair, cut short, an' walked as
if his feet were sore--and indeed it strikes me that he had kibes--for
these poor people isn't overly clane, an' don't wash their feet goin' to
bed at night, barrin' at Christmas or Easther, the crathurs. But, sure
the Lord look down on them, they have enough to do to live at all!"

"