he place again, or
annoyin' his sisther, he'd split him with a spade. Afther that,
they were both very friendly--father and son--and when I brought my
half-year's rent--'never mind now,' said they, 'bring it home, Andy;
maybe you may want it for something else that 'ud be useful to you.
Buy a couple o' cows--or keep it till next rent day; we won't hurry
you--you're a dacent man, and we respect you.' Well, I did put the
money to other uses, when what should come down on me when the next half
year's rent was due, but an Execution. He got a man of his own to swear
that I was about to run away wid the rent, and go to America; and in
a few days we were scattered widout a house to cover us. May the Lord
reward him accordin' to his works!"

There were other unprincipled cases where Phil's profligacy was
brought to bear upon the poverty and destitution of the uneducated
and unprotected female; but it is not our intention to do more than to
allude to them.

We now return to young O'Regan himself, who, at the conclusion, once
more got a candle, and precisely in the same manner as he had done in
the beginning, held it up and asked in a full firm voice, "mother,
do you know your son?" And again received the same melancholy and
unconscious gaze. "Now," said he, "you've all heard an account, and
a true account, of these two villains' conduct. What have they left
undone? They have cheated you, robbed you, and oppressed you in every
shape. They have scourged to death and transported your sons--and they
have ruined your daughters, and brought them to sin and shame--sorrow
and distraction. What have they left undone, I ax again? Haven't they
treated yez like the dirt under their feet? hunted yez like bloodhounds,
as they are--and as if ye were mad dogs? What is there that they haven't
made yez suffer? Shame, sin, poverty, hardship, bloodshed, ruin, death,
and madness; look there"--he added, vehemently pointing to his insane
mother--"there's one proof that you see; and you've heard and know the
rest. And now for their trial."

Those blood-stirring observations were followed by a deep silence, in
fact, like that of death.

"Now," said he, pulling out a paper, "I have marked down here twelve
names that I will read for you. They are to act as a jury; they are to
thry them both for their lives--and then to let us hear their sentence."

He then read over the twelve names, every man answering to his name as
he called them out.

"Now," h