ievances, one at a
time."

An old man near sixty rose up, and after two or three attempts to speak,
was overpowered by his feelings, and burst into tears. "Poor Jemmy
Devlin!" they exclaimed, "may God pity you!"

"Spake for Jemmy, some of you, as the poor man isn't able to spake for
himself."

"Why, the case was this," said a neighbor of the poor man's. "Jemmy's
son, Peter, was abused by Phil, the boy, because he didn't pay him
duty-work, and neglect his own harvest. He told Peter that he was a
Popish rebel and would be hanged. Peter told him to his teeth that he
was a liar, and that he couldn't be good, havin' the father's bastard
dhrop in him. That was very well, but one night in about a month
afterwards, the house was surrounded by the bloodhounds, poor Peter's
clo'es searched, and some Ribbon papers found in them; they also got, or
pretended to get, other papers in the thatch of the house. The boy
was dragged out of his bed, sent to goal, tried, found guilty on the
evidence of the bloodhounds, and sentenced to be flogged three times;
but never was flogged a third time, for he died on the fourth day after
the second flogging; and so, bein' an only son--indeed all the child the
poor couple had--the old man is now childless and distracted, God help
him!"

"Very well," exclaimed Owen bitterly--"very well--who next?"

A man named M'Mahon rose up,--"The curse of the Almighty God may for
ever rest upon him!" he exclaimed. "He transported my two brave sons,
because they were White-boys; and if they were, who made them Whiteboys
but himself and his cruelty? I will never see my darling sons' faces
again, but if I die without settlin' accounts wid him, may I never know
happiness here or hereafter!"

The usual murmur of commiseration followed this.

"Well," said Owen, "whose turn comes next?"

About a dozen of those who had been turned out of Drum Dhu now stood up.

"We were turned out," said one of them, who acted as spokesman, "on one
of the bittherest days that God ever sent on the earth; out of shame, I
believe, because your brother and ould Mary Casey died, he let us back
for a few days, but after that we had to flit. Some of the houses he had
pulled down, and then he had to build them again for his voters. Oh, if
it was only known what we suffered!"

"And why did he turn you out?"

"Why, because we didn't promise to vote as he wished."

"He took my crop," said another, "at his own valuation, drew it home,