LI E) R.ARY 
 OF THE ^, 
 
 k623 
 Cl9v 
 v.i
 
 YALE.NTINE M'CL'JTCHY, 
 
 THE IRISH AGENT 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 THE IRISH AGENT 
 
 OR, 
 
 CHRONICLES OF THE CASTLE CUMBER PROPERTY. 
 
 BY WILLIAM CARLETON, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " TRAITS AND STORIES OF THE IRISH PEASANTRV, 
 " FARDOROUGHA, THE MISER," " JANE SINCLAIR," &C. &C. 
 
 QUI CAPIT ILLE FACIT. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 YOL.I. 
 
 DUBLIN: 
 PUBLISHED BY JAMES DUFFY, 
 
 23, ANGLESEA STREET. 
 
 LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, 18R, STRAND. 
 EDINBURGH . OLIVER AND BOYD. 
 
 1845.
 
 Thomas I. White, Printer, 15, Flect-strect, Dublin.
 
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 It ^vas not my intention to have written any 
 
 Preface to this book, but to have allowed it 
 
 simply to speak for itself As it is very likely, 
 
 however, that both it and the motives of its 
 
 author may be misrepresented by bigotted or 
 
 ^ venal pens, I think it necessary to introduce it 
 
 nto the reader by a few brief observations. In 
 
 ^"jthe first place, then, I beg to say, that the work 
 %i 
 presents phases of Irish life and manners that 
 
 have never been given to the public before by 
 
 -^ny other writer upon the same subject. So far 
 
 therefore, the book is a perfectly new book — 
 
 ^not merely to the Irish people, but also to the
 
 Vi PREFACE. 
 
 English and Scotch. I know not whether the 
 authenticity of the facts and descriptions con- 
 tained in it may be called in question ; but this 
 I do know, that there is not an honest man^ on 
 either side, who has lived in the north of Ire- 
 land, and reached the term of fifty years, who 
 will not recognise the conduct and language of 
 the northern Orangemen as just, truthful, and 
 not one whit exaggerated. To our friends across 
 the Channel it is only necessary to say, that 
 I was born in one of the most Orange counties 
 in Ireland (Tyrone) — that the violences and 
 licentious abuses of these armed civilians were 
 perpetrated before my eyes — and that the 
 sounds of their outrages may be said still to 
 ring in my ears. 
 
 I have written many works upon Irish life, 
 and up to the present day the man has never 
 lived who could lay his finger upon any passage 
 of my writings, and say " that is false!' I can-
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 not, however, avoid remarking here, that within 
 the last few years, a more enlarged knowledge 
 of life, and a more matured intercourse with 
 society, have enabled me to overcome many 
 absurd prejudices with which I was imbued. 
 Without compromising, however, the truth or 
 integrity of any portion of my writings, I am 
 willing to admit, which I do frankly, and without 
 hesitation, that I published in my early works 
 passages which were not calculated to do any 
 earthly good ; but, on the contrary, to give 
 unnecessary offence to a great number of my 
 countrymen. It is due to myself to state this, 
 and to say, that in the last edition of my 
 works I have left as many of these passages 
 out as I readily could, without diminishing the 
 interest, or disturbing the narrative. 
 
 K fortiori^ then, this book may be considered 
 as full of truth and fidelity as any I have ever 
 written ; and I must say, that in wTiting it
 
 VIU PREFACE. 
 
 I have changed no principle whatsoever. I am 
 a liberal Conservative, and, I trust, a rational 
 one ; but I am not, nor ever was, an Orange- 
 man ; neither can I endure their exclusive and 
 arrogant assumption of loyalty, nor the out- 
 rages which it has generated. In what portion 
 of my former writings, for instance, did I ever 
 publish a line in their favour, or in favour of 
 any secret and illegal confederacy ? 
 
 Again, with regard to the Landlords and 
 Agents, have I not written a tale called the 
 " Poor Scholar," and another called " Tubber 
 Derg?" in both of which their corruptions and 
 oppressions are exposed. Let it not be mis- 
 taken. The two great curses of L^eland are bad 
 Landlords and bad Agents, and in nineteen 
 cases out of every twenty, the origin of the 
 crime lies with the Landlord or Agent, instead 
 of the tenant. 
 
 With respect to the Established Church
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 of forty years ago, if there is any man living 
 who asserts that I have not under-drawn 
 her, rather than otherwise, he is less intimate 
 with truth than I could wish. On this subject 
 I challenge and defy inquiry. I grant you 
 she is much changed for the better now ; but 
 yet there is much to be done in her still. It is 
 true Irishmen at present get Mitres, a fact 
 which was unknown forty years ago. We 
 have now more Evangelicism, and consequently 
 more sleekness and hypocrisy, more external 
 decorum, and, I would also trust, more in- 
 ternal spirituality. We have now many emi- 
 nent and pious Prelates in the Church, whose 
 admirable example is enough even to shame the 
 Clergymen under them into a sense of their duty. 
 It is to be wished that we had many more such 
 as they, for they are wanted. The Irish Evan- 
 gelical party are certainly very numerous, and 
 they must pardon me a slight anacronism or 
 two regarding them, concerning what has been
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 termed the Modern Reformation in these vol- 
 umes. Are those who compose this same 
 party, by the way, acquainted with their own 
 origin ? If not, I will tell them. They were 
 begotten by the active spirit of the Church of 
 Eome, upon their own establishment, when she 
 was asleep ; so that they owe their very exist- 
 ence to those whom they look upon as their 
 enemies ; and if it were only for this reason 
 alone, there ought to be more peace between 
 them. In England the same spirit has effected 
 a similar seduction on that Establishment, but 
 with this difference, that the Puseyites are a 
 much more obedient and dutiful progeny than 
 the Irish Evangelicals — in as much as they 
 have the grace to acknowledge the relationship. 
 This book was written to exhibit a useful 
 moral to the country. It will startle, I humbly 
 trust, many a hard-hearted Landlord and 
 flagitious Agent into a perception of their 
 duty, and it will show the negligent and reck-
 
 PREFACE. Xi 
 
 less Absentee how those from whose toils and 
 struggles he derives his support, are oppressed, 
 and fleeced, and trampled on in his name. 
 
 It will also teach the violent and bigotted 
 Conservative — or, in other words, the man who 
 still inherits the Orange sentiments of past times 
 — a lesson that he ought not to forget. It will 
 also test the whole spirit of modern Conservat- 
 ism, and its liberality. If there be at the press, 
 or any where else, a malignant bigot, with great 
 rancour and little honesty, it is very likely he 
 will attack my book ; and this, of course, he is 
 at liberty to do. I deny, however, that modern 
 Conservatism is capable of adopting or cherish- 
 ing the outrages which disgraced the Orange- 
 men of forty years ago, or even of a later period. 
 And for this reason I am confident that the 
 Conservative Press of Ireland will not only sus- 
 tain me but fight my battles, if I shall be unge- 
 nerously attacked. Let them look upon these
 
 Xll PREFACE. 
 
 pictures, and if it ever should happen that arms 
 and irresponsible power shall be entrusted to 
 them, perhaps the recollection of their truth may 
 teach them a lesson of forbearance and humanity 
 towards those who differ from them in creed, 
 that may be of important service to our common 
 country. If so, I shall have rendered a service 
 to that country, which, as is usual, may probably 
 be recognized as valuable, when perhaps my 
 bones are mouldering in the clay, and my ear 
 insensible to all such acknowledgments. 
 
 As for myself, I have been so completely 
 sickened by the bigotted on each side, that I 
 have come to the determination, as every honest 
 Irishman ought, of knowing no party but 
 my country, and of devoting such talents as 
 God has given me, to the promotion of her 
 general interests, and the happiness of her whole 
 people. 
 
 Dublin, December 24, 1844.
 
 VALENTINE M^CLUTCHY, 
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AN IRISH FAIR AND SPOILEEN TENT A MARRIAGE 
 
 PROPOSAL AN UNDER AGENT AN OLD IRISH SQUIRE 
 
 AND UNION LORD. 
 
 The town of Castle Cumber it is not our intention to 
 describe at more length, than simply to say, that it 
 consists of two long streets, intersecting each other, 
 and two or three lanes of cabins — many of them 
 mud ones — that stretch out of it on each side at 
 right angles. This street, and these stragghng ap- 
 pendages, together with a Church, a Prison, Court- 
 house, a Catholic chapel, a few shops, and half a 
 dozen public houses, present to the spectator all the 
 features that are generally necessary for the descrip- 
 tion of that class of remote country towns of which we 
 write. Indeed, with the exception of an ancient Stone 
 Cross, that stands in the middle of the street, and a 
 Fair green, as it is termed, or common, where its 
 two half-yearly fairs are held, and which hes at the
 
 'I VALENTINE M'OLUTCHY, 
 
 west end of it, there is little or nothing else to 
 be added. The fair I particularly mention, be- 
 cause on the day on which the circumstances I am 
 about to describe occurred, a fair was held in the 
 town, and upon the green in question. The month 
 was December — the day stormy and unpropitious. 
 There had been a deep snow and hard frost for 
 nearly three weeks before ; but now the aspect of 
 the white earth contrasted wildly with the large 
 masses of black clouds which hung motionless in 
 the air, and cast a dark and gloomy spirit not only 
 over the appearance of inanimate nature, but into 
 the heart of man himself. 
 
 About noon, just when the whole fair had been as- 
 sembled, the storm commenced with wind, sleet and 
 rain. Never was a more striking or unexpected 
 change produced. Women tucked up nearly to the 
 knees, their garments, soaked with wet, clinging to 
 their bodies and limbs, as if a part of themselves — 
 men drenched and buttoned up to the chin — all plash- 
 ing through the slippery streets, their shoes spouting 
 with snow-broth — the falling of tents — the shouting 
 against the loudness of the storm, in order to be 
 heard — the bleating of sheep, lowing of cattle, the 
 deafening and wild hum of confused noises — all, when 
 added to the roaring of the sweeping blast, the
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 6 
 
 merciless pelting of the rain, and the inclement 
 character of the whole day, presented a scene that 
 was tempestuous and desolate beyond behef. Age, 
 decrepid and shivering — youth, benumbed and 
 stiffened with cold — rich and poor, man and woman, 
 all had evidently but one object in view, and that 
 was shelter. 
 
 Love, charity, amusement, business, were all 
 either disappointed, or forced to suspend their ope- 
 rations, at least for the present. Every one ran or 
 walked as quickly as possible, with the exception of 
 some forenoon drunkard, who staggered along at 
 his ease, with an eye half insolent and half stupid, 
 careless, if not unconscious of the wild uproar, both 
 elemental and otherwise, by which he was sur- 
 rounded. 
 
 Nay, the very beggars and impostors — to whom, 
 in general, severe weather on such occasions is a 
 god-send, as it presents them to their fellow-crea- 
 tures in a more pitiable aspect — were glad to dis- 
 perse. In truth, the effect of the storm upon them was 
 perfectly miraculous. Many a poor creature, blind 
 from birth or infancy, was gifted with, or restored to 
 excellent sight ; the maimed were suddenly cured — 
 the deaf made to hear — the dumb to speak — and 
 the sturdy baccagh, or cripple, bounded away, at
 
 4 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 the rate of six miles an hour, cursing the whole 
 thing as a bad spec — a dead failure. 
 
 Solemn assignations of long promise, rustic court- 
 ships, and earnest match-makings, were all knocked 
 up, unless in the case of those who had availed 
 themselves of the early part of the day. Time and 
 place, in fact, were completely forgotten by the 
 parties, each being anxious only to secure the 
 nearest and most commodious shelter. Nay, though 
 ashamed to write it, we are bound to confess that 
 some of our countrymen were ungallant enough, on 
 meeting with their sweethearts, fairly to give them 
 the shp, or only to recognise them with a kind of 
 dreary and equivocal salutation, that might be 
 termed a cross between a wink and a shiver. 
 Others, however, gallantly and magnanimously set 
 the tempest at defiance, or blessed their stars for 
 sending them an opportunity of sitting so close to 
 their fair inamoratas, in order that their lo^dng 
 pressure might, in some degree, aided by a glass of 
 warm punch, compensate the sweet creatures for the 
 unexpected drenching they had got. 
 
 It has been well observed, that there is no class 
 of life in which instances of great virtue and forti- 
 tude may not be found ; and the justness of the 
 apothegm was fully corroborated here. Cold, bitter,
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 tempestuous, and terrible as was the day, amidst 
 rain, wind, sleet, and hail, there might be seen, in 
 a thoroughfare about the centre of the town, a 
 cripple, apparently paralytic from the middle down, 
 seated upon the naked street, his legs stretched out 
 before him, hirphng onward, by alternately twist- 
 ing his miserable body, from right to left ; while, as 
 if the softer sex were not to be surpassed in feats of 
 hardihood or heroism, a tattered creature, in the 
 shape of woman, without cap, shoe, or stocking, 
 accompanied by two naked and shivering children, 
 whose artificial lamentations were now lost in those 
 of nature, proceeded up the street, in the very teeth 
 of the beating tempest, attempting to sing some 
 dismal ditty, with a voice which resembled the ima- 
 gined shriekings of a goul, more than the accents of 
 a human being. These two were the only indivi- 
 duals who, in the true spirit of hardened imposture, 
 braved all the fury of the elements in carrying out 
 their principles — so true is it, that a rogue will 
 often advance farther in the pursuit of a knavish 
 object, than an honest man will in the attainment of 
 a just one. To them may be added the poor fool 
 of the town, Joe Lockhart, who, from his child- 
 hood, was known to be indifferent to all changes of 
 weather, and who now, elated by the festive spirit
 
 6 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 of a fair day, moved about from place to place, 
 without hat or shoe — neither of which he ever wore 
 — just with as much indifference as if it had been a 
 day in the month of June. 
 
 If the inclemency of the day, however, was inju- 
 rious to the general transaction of business, there 
 was one class to whose interests it amply contri- 
 buted — I mean the publicans, and such as opened 
 shebeen houses, or erected refreshment tents for the 
 occasion. In a great portion of Ireland there are 
 to be found, in all fairs, what the people term 
 spoileen tents — that is, tents in which fresh mutton 
 is boiled, and sold out, with bread and soup, to all 
 customers. I know not how it happens ; but be 
 the motive or cause what it may, scarcely any one 
 ever goes into a spoileen tent, unless in a mood of 
 mirth and jocularity. To eat spoileen seriously, 
 would be as rare a sight as to witness a wife dancing 
 on her husband's coffin. It is very difficult, indeed, 
 to ascertain the reason why the eating of fresh mut- 
 ton in such circumstances is always associated with a 
 spirit of strong ridicule and humour. At all events, 
 nothing can exceed the mirth that is always to be 
 found among the parties who frequent such tents. 
 Fun, laughter, jest, banter, attack, and rapartee fly 
 about in all directions, and the only sounds heard 
 are those of light-hearted noise and enjoyment.
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 Perhaps if the cause of this were closely traced, 
 it might be found to consist in a sense of shame, 
 which Paddy good-humouredly attempts to laugh 
 away. It is well known that the great body of the 
 people pass through life, without ever tasting either 
 beef or mutton — a circumstance which every one 
 acquainted with the country knows to be true. It 
 is also a fact, that nineteen out of every twenty who 
 go in to eat spoileen, are actuated more by curiosity 
 than hunger, inasmuch as they consist of such per- 
 sons as have never tasted it before. Tliis, there- 
 fore being generally known, and each possessing a 
 latent consciousness of its truth, it is considered best 
 to take the matter in good humour, and escape the 
 shame of the thing, together with the poverty it 
 impUes, by turning it into ridicule and jest. This 
 indeed, is pretty evident, from the nature of the 
 spoileen keeper's observations on being paid, which 
 is usually — " Thank you, Barney ; you may now 
 considher yourself a gintleman ;" or if a female — 
 " Long life to you, Bridget ; you may now go into 
 high life any time." 
 
 It is unnecessary to say, that on the day in ques- 
 tion, the spoileen tents were crowded to suffocation. 
 In general these are pretty large, sometimes one, 
 occasionally two fires being kept in each ; over these,
 
 8 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 placed upon three large stones, or suspended from 
 three poles, united at top, is the pot or pots in 
 which the spoileen is boiled ; whilst patiently in a 
 corner of the tent, stand the poor invalid sheep, 
 that are doomed, as necessity may require, to fur- 
 nish forth this humorous entertainment. 
 
 Truth to tell, there are many reasons why this 
 feast is a comic one. In the first place, the descrip- 
 tion of mutton which they get is badly calculated to 
 prejudice honest Paddy in favour of that food in 
 general, it being well known that in ninety nine 
 cases out of a hundred, the sacrifice falls upon disease, 
 poverty, and extreme old age ; or if there be any 
 manifestation of humanity in the selection, it is — that 
 while the tenderer sex is spared, the male one is in 
 general certain to be made the victim, but never unless 
 when he has been known to reach a most patriarchal 
 length of years. Then the suddenness of the act 
 which converts a portion of the venerable patriarch 
 into a component part of honest Paddy, is equally 
 remarkable ; for it generally happens that the animal 
 now standing in a corner of the tent, will in about 
 half an hour be undergoing the process of assimilation 
 in his (Paddy's) gastric region. The elastic quahty of 
 the meat is indeed extraordinary, and such as with 
 the knowledge of that fact, does sometimes render
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 9 
 
 Paddy's treat of 5poz7ee?i to his sweet heart an act of 
 very questionable gallantry. Be this as it may, 
 there is scarcely any thing in life richer than to 
 witness a tent of spoileen eaters in full operation. 
 Tugging, pulling, dragging, tearing, swinging of the 
 head from side to side, want of success, loss of temper, 
 fatigue of jaw, recovery of good humour, and the wolf- 
 ish rally, mingled with mock curses, loud laughter, 
 shouting and singing, all going on together, are the 
 ordinary characteristics of this most original banquet. 
 
 About the centre of the town stood one of those 
 houses of entertainment, wliich holds rank in 
 such towns as a second rate inn. On the day in 
 question it was painfully overcrowded, and such was 
 the hubbub of loud talk, laughter, singing, roaring, 
 clattering of pewter pots, and thumping of tables, that 
 it was almost impossible to hear or understand any 
 thing in the shape of conversation. To this, however, 
 there was one exception. A small closet simply large 
 enough to hold a table, and two short forms, opened 
 from a room above stairs looking into the stable 
 yard. In this there was a good fire, at which sat two 
 men, being with a bed and small table, nearly as 
 many as it was capable of holding with ease. 
 
 One of these was a stout, broad shouldered person, 
 a good deal knock-kneed, remarkably sallow in the
 
 10 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 complexion, with brows black and beetling. He 
 squinted, too, with one eye, and what between this 
 circumstance, a remarkably sharp but hooked nose, 
 and the lowering brows aforesaid, there was altoge- 
 ther about him a singular expression of acuteness and 
 malignity. In every sense he was a person against 
 whom you would feel disposed to guard yourself, 
 whether in the ordinary intercourse of life and its 
 transactions, or still more in the secret workings of 
 the darker and more vindictive passions. He was 
 what they call a down looking man ; that is one who 
 in conversation could never look you straight in the 
 face, which fact, together with a habit of quivering 
 observable in his upper Hp, when any way agitated, 
 gave unquestionable proof that his cowardice was 
 equal to his malignity, as liis treachery was to both. 
 His age might be about fifty, or, perhaps, beyond it. 
 The other was a tall man, well featured, of a clear 
 fresh complexion, a fine blue eye, and altogether, a 
 kind, benevolent expression of countenance. He 
 had been rather stout, but not robust, and might, 
 perhaps, at the time we write of, be about the same 
 age as his companion. He was evidently a 
 man of respectability, well dressed, not badly edu- 
 cated, and on the present occasion wore good broad 
 cloth and top boots. The contrast between him
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 11 
 
 and the other, was in nothing more striking than 
 the honest, joyous, spirit of his laughter, which rang 
 clearly and mellowly on your ear, leaving behind it 
 an impression of candour, light-heartedness, and 
 good nature, that could not be mistaken. 
 
 "It's idle talk to speak about going such a day as 
 this," observed the beetle-browed man, who stirred 
 up the fire with something that passed for a poker, 
 in reply ; " and to tell you the truth, upon my credit, 
 Mr. M'Loughlin, I'm not sorry that we happened to 
 meet. You're a man I've a sincere regard for, and 
 always had — and on that account we'll have some- 
 thing more to drink." So saying, he stamped upon 
 the floor, which was exactly over the bar, in order 
 that some one might attend them with the Hquor. 
 
 " I'm obliged to you, Val," rephed his companion 
 dryly, "for your good opinion of me ; but at the same 
 time, God forbid that ever I should deserve it — eh ? 
 ha, ha, ha. Well, well, let us have some drink, as 
 you say, at all events ; only it must be at my expense 
 as well as the rest. Well, sure enough, you were 
 the devil's whip-thong in your day, and if you haven't 
 repented yet, all I can say is, there is little time to 
 lose, if you wish to have a bright look up at the last 
 day"- 
 
 " Ha, ha, go on, Mr. M'Loughlin, wo all know
 
 12 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 you, the same pleasant fellow you ever were, and 
 upon my credit, as good a companion as any one 
 could sit with. All I wish is that we had here more 
 of the family on both sides, that the boys and girls 
 might have sometliing to whisper to one another." 
 
 " I didn't care we had, Val, my boy ; but how on 
 earth will we get home ? Indeed such a terrible day 
 I've seldom seen, for many years." 
 
 " Faith, it's good to have a dry roof over our heads, 
 and a warm fire before us, at any rate. There's 
 many a poor half-drowned devil in the fair, would 
 give a trifle to change places with us ; there is, upon 
 my credit." 
 
 In a few minutes the refreshments came in, much 
 to the satisfaction of the parties, who felt a strong 
 sense of comfort, on contrasting the warmth of their 
 snug little room, with the uproar of the storm that 
 raged without, and spent its fury upon the cold, 
 bleak, and almost deserted streets. 
 
 " I am glad, indeed, Mr. M'Loughlin," continued 
 his companion, " that I happened to meet with you to- 
 day — you and I are now neighbours, and surely we 
 ought to live like neighbours. 
 
 " Well," rephed M'Loughlin dryly, " and don't 
 we do so ? You haven't found me troublesome as 
 a neighbour, have you ? Eh, Val, my man ?
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 13 
 
 "No," said the other, " certainly I have not — 
 upon my credit I haven't, an' that's what I complain 
 of; neither you nor your family associate with me 
 or mine." 
 
 '' Tut, Val, man," rephed M'Loughhn, still in the 
 same dry, ironical tone as before, " surely it's not 
 long since you came to march us. It's only two 
 years and a half since you wormed out the O'Hagans, 
 then the farm lay near two years idle — ay — why, 
 man, you're not four months our neighbour yet." 
 
 '' No — not all out ; still, Mr. M'Loughlin, somehow 
 you don't treat me or my family as neighbours. If 
 you have to borrow any thing, no matter what it is, 
 you never come to me for it. It was only the other 
 day that you wanted a rope to pull that breeding 
 mare of your's out of the drain — and yet you sent 
 past me near half a mile, up to Widow Lenehan's, 
 to borrow it." 
 
 " Heavens pity you, Val, for it's a hard case ; but 
 every one has their troubles, and it seems you are not 
 without your own, poor man — eh — ^ha ! ha ! ha ! — 
 Well, never mind, my friend ; you're better off now 
 for all that, than when you were only a process server 
 on the estate ; however, I'll tell you what, Val the 
 Vulture — you see I can be neighbourly sometimes — 
 j ust ] et me know whenever you stand in need of a rope
 
 14 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 — mark, I don't say whenever you deserve it — and 
 may I never taste worse liquor than this, but you 
 shall have it with right good will, hoping still that 
 you'll make a proper use of it — ha ! ha ! ha ! Come, 
 man, in the mean time take your liquor, an don't 
 look a^ if you'd eat me without salt ; for I tell you if 
 you tried it, you'd find Brian M'Loughlin a tougher 
 morsel than you imagine." 
 
 " If any body else spoke to me in the style you 
 do, Brian, I'd not be apt to overlook it ; upon my 
 credit and reputation I would not." 
 
 " No, but you'd look round it may be, ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 but go on, vulture, who minds what / say ?" 
 
 " Nobody to be sure, because you make one laugh 
 whether they will or not." 
 
 " Faith, vulture dear, and that's what nobody 
 can tax you with ; or if you do, it's on the wrong 
 side of the mouth you do it — and they say that same 
 is but indifferent mirth, Val." 
 
 " I wish, Brian, you would sometimes speak seri- 
 ously, and besides, you're always hard, too hard, 
 upon me. Anything I did harshly, it was always in 
 the discharge of my duty." 
 
 " Never mind, Val, the fewer of these old sores 
 you rip up, the better for yourself — I'm not going 
 to put you through your catechism about them. If
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 15 
 
 you're wise, let byegones be byegones ; take that 
 advice from me. WTiatever tricks you may have 
 practised, you're now a wealthy man, and for the 
 same reason the world will help you to forget them, 
 if you keep your toe in your pump." 
 
 " I am a wealthy man, and can set the wo^ld at 
 defiance, if it goes to that ; yes, Brian, a wealthier 
 man than the world thinks — and as I said, I defy it." 
 
 " Faith, and you needn't, for the world won't put 
 you to that trouble, at least a great part of it, if you 
 were ten times the vulture you are, so long as you 
 have a full purse. Eh, do you perceive me ? ha ! 
 ha! ha!" 
 
 " Well, damn the de\dl, heaven pardon me for 
 swearing, for it's a thing I hate " 
 
 " And yet, many a fat oath you've bolted in 
 
 your time. Now on the nick of your conscience, Val 
 darhng, how many bibles did you wear out, by a 
 long and honest course of hard swearing ? — eh — 
 ha ! ha! ha !" 
 
 '' Ha ! ha ! ha ! Brian, I see there is little use in 
 speaking to you, or being angry with you ; you are 
 a devilish pleasant hearty fellow, only something a 
 little too rough about the tongue." 
 
 " Never mind, Val, by all accounts it would be 
 easy to reckon them ; but seriously, is it true that
 
 16 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 the lower joint of your right thumb is horny, in con- 
 sequence of having caught the character of your con- 
 science from having kissed it so often ?" 
 
 " Go on, Brian, go on ; to be sure it is ; they 
 may say what they hke — I'm not depending upon 
 them, and I care Httle. But now, Brian, there is 
 one thing I will say, and I have long wished for an 
 opportunity of saying it." 
 
 " That's my bully, out with it ; don't be dashed, 
 Val, you'll get over your modesty ; upon my credit 
 you will — ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 
 " D — n it, you can't be serious for a minute ; 
 but no matter, I ivill out with it — here's your health 
 and fireside, in the mean time !" Brian merely nodded 
 in reply, but said nothing. " Now you know, Brian, 
 your farm and mine lie very snugly beside one 
 another ; observe that that's what I begin with'* 
 
 " Very good." 
 
 " Again, your family and mine live very close to 
 one another too." 
 
 " Very good." 
 
 " Now, what if part of the farms, and part of the 
 families were to become united, and get spliced 
 together, eh?" 
 
 " Very good, very good." 
 
 " Well, but do you really think so, Brian ?"
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 17 
 
 " Go on, if you please, and let us hear more of it ; 
 state your case, as you say at the sessions." 
 
 '' Well, then, there's your daughter Mary, a 
 handsome girl, and, by all accounts, as good as 
 she is handsome — and there's my son Phil, who, 
 excepting the cast* — is — but, at any rate, if he's no 
 beauty, he's a stout young fellow, for you know 
 yourself that that little closeness about the knees is 
 always a sign of strength." 
 
 " That little closeness, Val ! — why, vulture dar- 
 ling, isn't one knee sugar candy, and the other Hck- 
 ing it ? — but go on, it's not bad for so far, go on ; 
 upon my credit it's not." 
 
 " I am glad you like it for so far — then seriously, 
 what would you think of a marriage between them ?" 
 
 " Devil a prettier move you could make, Val. As 
 you say, the farms and the families he convenient to 
 one another — and I don't see what's to prevent your 
 proposal from being reahzed. You'll do well for Phil, 
 of course — for although he has the squint in both 
 eyes, instead of only in one, like yourself — and is 
 twisted very much about the knees, more than you 
 are a good deal — still Val — neighbour Val, as I now 
 may call you — he is a stout, left legged, round 
 shouldered blade ; and I question whether the red 
 
 * Squint.
 
 18 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 poll does not become him better than a black one 
 like yours would." 
 
 " Why, I grant you, Brian, that he looks better 
 on horseback than on foot, and when mounted on 
 * Handsome Harry,' with top boots and spurs, it's 
 not on every high- way you could meet his equal." 
 
 " Devil a lie in that, Val — nor a boy better made 
 to ride or shoot round a corner you could not meet in 
 Europe — but never mind ; go on, Val — go on, my 
 friend ; no, faith, on hill or in hollow, it would not 
 be easy to match him." 
 
 " He'd make an excellent good husband." 
 
 *' He would not be your son if he did not — well ?" 
 
 " Well, as to that, if the truth was known, I know 
 where the blame would lie — your daughter will not 
 be the shrew and scold to him, that my blister was 
 to me — upon my credit she won't." 
 
 " Devil a He in that either, Val — well, well — oh ! 
 I'll take my oath she won't." 
 
 " I don't see why he and she might not be very 
 happy together — you are able to do handsomely for 
 her, as report goes." 
 
 " And wilhng, Val, and a bad father I'd be, if I 
 were not." 
 
 " Well then, Brian, so far all looks fair, and devilish 
 glad I am that I broached the thing at oncC: I have
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 19 
 
 been thinking of it ever since I came to the neigh- 
 bourhood — upon my credit I have." 
 
 " Faith, and so am 1 glad of it— but what's to be 
 done next, Val darling?" 
 
 " Why the less time that's lost upon it the better 
 — we must bring the youngsters together till they 
 get acquainted — then we can have another meeting, 
 and settle the match out of hand. Did you ever see 
 Phil on ' Handsome Harry' ?" 
 
 " Didn't I ? — to be sure I did — and upon my 
 word, Val, he's a credit to the horse he rides, as the 
 horse is to him — a comely couple they are in truth. 
 But, Val, or neighbour Val, as I now may call you, 
 don't you think it would be better to wind up this 
 business now that our hand's in for it ? Let us hear 
 what you'll do, and I'll follow you on my part, 
 for there's no use in losing time about it — upon my 
 credit there's not." 
 
 " What would you think, then, of the farm we're 
 in now — that is, the O'Hagan property, as you call 
 it ? Suppose I give liim that, what will you come 
 down with for the girl ? I know it can't be under 
 three hundred — come say three hundred, and it's a 
 match." 
 
 " Three hundred ! Ah ! Val, you're too soft — 
 too moderate — too mild — indeed you are — why
 
 20 VALENTINE M^CLUTCHY, 
 
 tliree liunderd would be nothing against the O'Hagan 
 property, as you call it — and, indeed, I don't intend 
 to put my daughter off under five hundred, and 
 that's nearly double what three is — eh, Val, what 
 do you say, upon your credit now ?" 
 
 *' Faith, I'll not quarrel with you if you make it 
 six or eight." 
 
 " Well now," said M'Loughhn, rising up, whilst 
 his honest features were ht with indignation, " this 
 joke or this impudence on your part, has gone far 
 enough — listen to me. What did I or my family do, 
 I ask my own conscience in the name of God — what 
 sin did we commit — whom did we oppress — whom did 
 we rob — whom did we persecute — that a scoundrel 
 like you, the bastard spawn of an unprincipled pro- 
 fligate, remarkable only for drunkenness, debauchery, 
 and blasphemy — what, I say, did I and my family 
 do, that you, Ms son, who were, and are to this day, 
 the low, mean, willing scourge of every oppressor, 
 the agent of their crimes — the instrument of their 
 villanies — you who undermined the honest man — 
 who sold and betrayed the poor man — who deceived 
 and misled the widow and her orphans, and rose 
 upon their ruin — who have robbed your employers 
 as well as those you were employed against — a dou- 
 ble traitor — steeped in treachery, and perjured a
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 21 
 
 thousand times to the core of your black and deceitful 
 heart — what crime, I say again, did I or mine com- 
 mit — that we, whose name and blood has been 
 without a stain for a thousand years, should suffer 
 the insult that you have now offered us — eh, look 
 me in the face now if you can, and answer me if you 
 are able ?" 
 
 M*Loughlin, as he concluded, calmly folded his 
 arms, and looked at his companion resolutely, but 
 sternly. The other, to do him justice, did certainly 
 raise his head, and fix his evil eye upon him for a 
 moment, but only for a moment — it dropped after a 
 single glance; in truth, he quailed before M'Loughhn; 
 his upper Up, as usual, quivered — his brow lowered, 
 and looked black as midnight, whilst all the rest of 
 his face became the colour of ashes. In fact, that 
 white smile, which is known to be the very emblem 
 of cowardice and revenge, sat upon his countenance, 
 stamping on it at once the character of the spectre 
 and the demon — a being to be both feared and 
 hated." 
 
 "Well, Brian M'Loughlin," returned the other, 
 hear me." 
 
 " Don't dare to Brian me, sir," returned 
 M'Loughhn ; " I'm a very humble man, and ought to 
 be an humble man, for I know well what a sinner I
 
 22 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 am before God — but for all that, and if it were against 
 even religion itself — I feel too proud to suffer you to 
 speak to me as you do — no — don't Brian me, but 
 listen and let me show you what you are, and what 
 you have been ; I can't say what you will be, that 
 does not lie with any but God." 
 
 " Well," said M'Clutchy, " go on; I now can hear 
 you, and what is more, I wish to hear you — and 
 whisper — speak your worst." 
 
 It is said, that both cowardice and despair have 
 then* courage, and it would appear from the manner 
 and action of this man, that he now felt actuated by 
 some vague feehng resembling that wliich we have 
 described. He rose up and said, 
 
 " Brian M'LoughHn, do you think I ever can 
 forget this?" 
 
 " What do you mean by that ?" said M'Loughlin, 
 " look me in the face, I say, and tell me what you 
 mean by it. I'm a man, and an honest man, and 
 there's no treachery about me." 
 
 The sternness with which he spoke, made the 
 other quail again. 
 
 " There was little in it," he replied, in a rebuked 
 but cold and mahgnant spirit ; "I didn't think you 
 were so violent. I bore a great deal from you this 
 day, Mr. M'Loughlin — a great deal, indeed, and so 
 patiently as I bore it too ; upon my credit I did."
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 23 
 
 M'Loughlin made no reply, but stamped on the 
 floor, in order to bring up some person to whom he 
 might pay the reckoning. 
 
 •' You need not stamp," said the other, " this is 
 my share of the reckoning." 
 
 " Your share, no : I told you before, it must not 
 be yours. I wouldn't have it said, that bit or sup, 
 paid for by your ill gotten wealth, should ever cross 
 my hps — no, no." 
 
 The waiter, or rather waitress, a red haired, 
 barefooted wench, now came up. 
 
 " Here," said M'Loughlin, ''take the refreshment 
 we've had last out of that, and keep the change to 
 yourself. I have settled what we've had before, as 
 well as this." 
 
 " And why not allow me to settle for this ?" asked 
 M'Clutchy. 
 
 " Because," replied this honest and respectable 
 man, " I could not swallow a thimbleful of any 
 thing paid for by your money ; what is it ? If I did I 
 would dream for weeks of all that you have done, 
 or if I didn't dream, the sorrows and the wrongs of 
 my near relative. Widow O'Hagan and her family, 
 would prevent me from sleeping ; the Kellys that 
 you've driven to beggary — the Gormleys that you 
 got put out — good God ! and who now holds their
 
 24 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 places? your own cousin. It's useless however to men- 
 tion all you've done. You, Val the Vulture, as the 
 people call you, are one of those scourges that rise and 
 flourish upon the distresses of the poor, and the injus- 
 tice that you yourself bring upon them by your false- 
 hood and calumny ; and all because the property they 
 live on is neglected by those that have a right to look 
 after it. Ay, there is another of your white and cow- 
 ardly laughs. Well you know that there is not a neg- 
 lected estate in the country, but can produce another 
 vulture like yourself, playing the same heartless 
 pranks upon the poor people — lying, misrepresenting, 
 swaggering over and robbing them, and that too, in 
 the open face of day, merely because you think there 
 is no one to bring you to an account. 
 
 " Now go home," he added, " and when next you 
 want to get a wife for your spanking son, that's 
 hkely to become a squireen upon our hands, don't 
 come to Brian M'Loughhn, who knows you from the 
 pairing of the nails to the core of the heart." 
 
 M^Clutchy looked at him and laughed again ; 
 " before you go, at all events," he rephed, " I hope 
 you remember the observation I made when I intro- 
 duced the discourse." 
 
 " I can't say I do," said M'Loughlin, " but I sup- 
 pose you will let us hear it."
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 25 
 
 " I will," replied Val, and his brow darkened 
 as before ; "It was this — your farm and mine lie 
 very snugly together — observe, I said, ' that's ivhat 
 I begin with' — didn't I say that ?" 
 
 " You did, and now what else do you say ?" 
 
 " The very same thing — that your farm and mine 
 lie snugly together — and mark me, Mr. M^Lough- 
 Un " 
 
 " I do — oh, upon my credit I do — ha, ha, ha !" 
 
 " Then, that's ivhat I end ivith." 
 
 " Ah,"repUed M'Loughhn indignantly, "you think 
 you have the ball at your own foot, now that old 
 Topertoe is gone, and his son has made you his 
 under agent. A nice job indeed it was, that trans- 
 formed old drunken Tom Topertoe into Lord Cum- 
 ber, and made his son the present Lord too proud to 
 live on his own estate. However, I'd be glad to see 
 the honest man that ever envied the same old Tom 
 his title, when we all know that he got it for selling 
 his country. As for you. Vulture, I defy and 
 despise you ; when my rent's due, thank God, I am 
 able to pay it, so you may do your worst. While 
 Mr. Hickman's over you, the tenants have some 
 protection, in spite of your villainy, you unprincipled 
 scoundrel."
 
 26 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 " Our farms lie snugly together, Mr. M'Louglilin, 
 and thafs what I end with.'' 
 
 It was from the town of Castle Cumber, which we 
 have described at the opening of our narrative, that 
 old Tom Topertoe, a squire of the true Irish kidney, 
 took his title. Topertoe, or Lord Castle Cumber, 
 as we must now call him, like many others, had the 
 high honour of being a union lord — that is to say, 
 his attachment to his principles was so steady, that 
 he did not hesitate to sell his country for a title, 
 and we may add, something besides. It is not our 
 intention, at this distance of time, to discuss the 
 merits of either the union or its repeal; but in 
 justice to truth and honour, or, perhaps, we should 
 rather say, to fraud and profligacy, we are con- 
 strained to admit, that there is not to be found in 
 the annals of all history, any pohtical negociation 
 based upon such rank and festering corruption, as 
 was the legislative union. Had the motives which 
 actuated the English government towards this coun- 
 try been pure, and influenced by principles of equa- 
 lity and common justice, they would never have had 
 recourse to such unparalleled profligacy. Tliis is 
 self evident, for those who seek an honourable end 
 will scorn to obtain it by foul and dishonourable 
 means. The conduct of England, therefore, in this
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 27 
 
 base and shameless traffic, is certainly a prima facie 
 evidence of her ultimate policy — a policy blacker in 
 the very simplicity of its iniquity, than its worst 
 enemies can paint it, and so obvious in its character, 
 that we question whether a man could be found, of 
 ordinary information, belonging to any party, 
 capable at this moment of dehberately and consci- 
 entiously defending it, so far as pertains to that 
 transaction. But enough of this. 
 
 Before the union, old Topertoe was master of 
 three votes — that is, he sat himself for the county, 
 and returned members for two boroughs. He was 
 known by the soubriquet of Pater Noster Tom — 
 not from any disposition to devotion ; but because, 
 whether in parUament, on the hustings, or, indeed, 
 any where else, he never made a speech longer than 
 the Lord's Prayer. And yet, short as it was, it 
 generally puzzled the shrewdest and most sagacious 
 of his audience to understand it. Still, though not 
 without his faults, he was by no means a bad land- 
 lord, as landlords went. 'Tis true he was fond of 
 liis wine, and of his wench — as a proof of which, it 
 was well known that he seldom or ever went to bed 
 with less than four or five bottles under his belt ; 
 and as touching the latter, that he had two agents 
 in pay, to cater for his passions. In both these
 
 28 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 propensities, he was certainly countenanced by the 
 usages and moral habits of the times ; and the truth 
 is, he grew rather popular than otherwise, precisely 
 on account of them. He was bluff, boisterous, and not 
 ill-natured — one of that bygone class who would 
 horse-whip a tenant to-day, and fight a duel for him 
 to-morrow. Above all things, he resided on his 
 estate, knew all his tenantry by name and person, 
 and contracted, by degrees, a kind of anomalous 
 attachment for them, merely because they were his 
 property, and voted and fought for him at elections, 
 and often fought with him touching their relative 
 positions as landlord and tenant. Indeed, we ques- 
 tion whether he would not enter into a quarrel as 
 readily for a tenant, as he would for a favourite 
 dog or horse ; and we are inchned to think, that to 
 do him justice, he laid nearly as much value on the 
 one as on the other — a circumstance which we dare 
 say several of our modern landlords, both resident 
 and absentee, will consider as, on our part, a good- 
 humoured stretch of fiction. 
 
 His speech at elections absolutely became a pro- 
 verb in the country ; and, indeed, when we remem- 
 ber the good-natured license of the times, as many 
 still may, together with the singular blending of 
 generosity and violence, horse- whipping and protec-
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 29 
 
 tion, mirtli and miscliief, wliicli characterised the 
 bearing of such men as Topertoe, we are fain to 
 tliink, to vary the proverb a httle, that he might 
 have spoken more, and fared worse. 
 
 " Here I am again, ye blaggards ; your own ould 
 Topertoe, that never had a day's illness, but the gout, 
 bad luck to it. Damn your bloods, ye affectionate 
 rascals, sure you love me, and I love you, and 'tisn't 
 Gully Preston (his opponent) that can cut our loves 
 in two. No, boys, he's not the blade to do that, at 
 any rate ! Hurra then, ye vagabones ; ould Tom 
 Topertoe for ever ! He loves liis bottle and his 
 wench, and will make any rascal quiver on a daisy 
 that would dare to say bow to your blankets. Now, 
 Gully Preston, make a speech — if you can ! Hurra for 
 Tom Topertoe, that never had a day's illness, but 
 the gout, bad luck to it ! and don't hsten to Gully 
 Preston, boys ! Hurra !" 
 
 This speech, from which he never varied, was 
 waited for at elections with a vehemence of mirth, 
 and a force of popularity, which no eloquence 
 brought against him, could withstand. Indeed, it 
 was perfectly well known that it alone returned him ; 
 for when upon an occasion of considerable doubt and 
 difficulty, the two parties of the county having been 
 considered as equally balanced, he was advised by
 
 30 VALENTINE M'CLUTCIIY, 
 
 some foolish friend, or enemy in disguise, to address 
 them in a serious speech, the consequences were 
 near proving disastrous to Ms interests. When he 
 commenced — ^* Gentlemen — upon an occasion of such 
 important difficulty" — there was for about a quarter 
 of a minute a dead silence — that of astonishment — 
 Topertoe, however, who had stuck fast, was obHged 
 to commence again — " Gentlemen — upon an occa* 
 sion of such — " but it would not do, the groaning, 
 shouting, hooting, and yelhng, were deafening for 
 some minutes, much to the gratification of his oppo- 
 nent. At length there was something like a pause, 
 and several voices shouted out — " what the divil do 
 you mane, Tom?" " He's showin' the garran bane at 
 last," shouted another — " desartin' his colours !" — 
 "oh! we're gintlemen now it seems, an' not his own 
 blaggards, as we used to be — Topertoe's vagabones 
 that stood by liim — oh no ! Tom, to hell wid you an' 
 your gintlemin — three cheers for Gully Preston !" 
 
 Tom saw it was nearly over with him, and Pres- 
 ton's hopes ran high. " Aisy, boys," said the other, 
 resuming his old, and, indeed, Ms natural manner — 
 '' Aisy, ye vagabones — Topertoe's ould speech for 
 ever ! Here I am again, ye blaggards, that never 
 had a day's illness but the gout, bad luck to it !" &c. 
 &c. This was enough, the old feeling of fun and
 
 THE IRISH AGENT, 31 
 
 attachment kindled up — the multitude joined him in 
 his speech, precisely as a popular singer is joined by 
 the gods of the upper gallery in some favourite air, 
 and no sooner was it concluded, than the cheering, 
 throwing up of hats, and huzzaing, gave ample proof 
 that he had completely recovered his lost ground, 
 and set himself right with the people. 
 
 Such is a brief sketch of old Topertoe, the first 
 Lord of Castle Cumber, who, by the way, did not 
 wear his honours long, the gout, to which he was a 
 martyr, having taken him from under his coronet 
 before he had it a year on liis brow. He was one of 
 the men peculiar to his times, or rather who aided 
 in shaping them; easy, full of strong but gross 
 impulses, quick and outrageous in resentment, but 
 possessed of broad uncouth humour, and a sudden 
 oblivion of his passion. Without reading or education 
 — he was coarse, sensual, careless, and extravagant, 
 having no stronger or purer principle to regulate 
 him than that which originated in his passions 
 or his necessities. Of shame or moral sanction he 
 knew notliing, and consequently held himself ame- 
 nable to the world on two points only — the laws of 
 duelling and those of gaming. He would take an in- 
 sult from no man, and always paid his gambling debts 
 with honour ; but beyond that, he neither feared
 
 32 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 nor cared for any thing in this world — and, being a 
 member of the Hellfire Club, he did not believe in 
 the other. In fact he was the very man on whose pe- 
 culiar temperament and character, a corrupt and wily 
 pohtician might expect to impress his own principles 
 with success. Topertoe was consequently not only 
 the very man to sell his country, but to sell it at the 
 highest price, and be afterwards the first to laugh, 
 as he did, at his own corruption. 
 
 Of his eldest son, who of course succeeded to his 
 rank and property there is not so much to be said at 
 present, because he will appear, to some extent, 
 as an actor in our drama. It is enough then to say 
 here that he inherited his father's vices, purged of 
 their vulgarity and grossness, without a single par- 
 ticle of his uncertam and capricious good nature. In 
 his manners he appeared more of the gentleman, was 
 lively, shallow, and versatile ; but havuig been edu- 
 cated at an English School and an English College, 
 he felt, or affected to feel, all the fasliionable preju- 
 dices of the day and of his class against his native 
 country. He was an absentee from both pride and 
 inclination, and it is not surprizing then that he knew 
 but little of Ireland, and that that little was strongly 
 to its disadvantage. 
 
 Another brother there was, whose unpretending
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 33 
 
 character requires little else than merely that he 
 should be named. The honourable Alexander Toper- 
 toe, who was also educated in England, from the mo- 
 ment his father stained what he conceived to be the 
 honour of their family, by receiving a title and twenty 
 thousand pounds, as a bribe for his three votes against 
 a native Parliament — hung his head in mortification 
 and shame, and having experienced at all times httle 
 else than neglect from his father and brother, he 
 hurried soon afterwards to the continent with a heavy 
 heart and a light purse, where for the present we 
 must leave him. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CHRISTIAN FORGIVENESS BIRTH AND ORIGIN OF MR. 
 
 M'CLUTCHY MR. HICKMAN, THE HEAD AGENT 
 
 DARBY o'dRIVE, THE BAILIFF AND AN INSTRUCTIVE 
 
 DIALOGUE. 
 
 Time, which passes with a slow but certain pace, 
 had already crept thrice around his yearly circle since 
 the fair already described in the town of Castle Cum- 
 ber. The lapse of three years, however, had made no 
 change whatsover in the heart or principles of Mr. 
 Valentine M^Clutchy, although it had on his external 
 manner and bearing. He now assumed more of the 
 gentleman, and endeavoured to impress himself upon 
 those who came in contact with him, as a person of 
 great authority and importance. One morning after 
 the period just mentioned had elapsed, he and his 
 graceful son, " Mister Phil," were sitting in the 
 parlour of Constitution Cottage, for so they were 
 pleased to designate a house which had no preten- 
 sion whatsoever to that unpretending appellation. 
 
 " So father," said Phil, '' you don't forget that 
 such was the treatment M'Loughlin gave you !"'
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 35 
 
 " Why, I remember it, Phil ; but you know, Phil, 
 I'm a patient and a forgiving man notwithstanding ; 
 you know that, Phil ; — ha, ha, ha !" 
 
 " That was certainly the worst case came across 
 us yet," rephed the son, " none of the rest ventured 
 to go so far, even when you had less power than you 
 have now." 
 
 " I didn't tell you all, Phil," continued the father, 
 following up the same train of thought. 
 
 " And why not," said Phil, " why should you 
 conceal any thing from me ?" 
 
 " Because," replied the other, " I think you have 
 heard enough for the present." 
 
 The fact was, that M'Clutchy's consciousness of 
 the truth contained in M'Loughlin's indignant re- 
 proaches, was such as prevented him from repeating 
 them, even to his son, knowing right well, that had 
 he done so, they could not exactly have looked each 
 other in the face without sensations regarding their 
 own conduct, which neither of them wished to avow. 
 There is a hypocrisy in villany sometimes so deep 
 that it cannot bear to repeat its own iniquity, even 
 in the presence of those who are aware of it, and in 
 this predicament stood Valentine M^Clutchy. 
 
 " May be he has relented," said Phil, " or that 
 he will give me his pretty daughter yet — and you
 
 36 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 know they have the cash. The linen manufactory 
 of M'LoughHn and Harman is flourishing. 
 
 " No, no, Phil," rephed the father, *' you must 
 give her up — that's past — ^but no matter, I'll forgive 
 him." 
 
 Phil looked at him and smiled, "Come, come, 
 father," said he, " be original — that last is a touch of 
 M' Slime — of honest Solomon. Keep back the for- 
 giveness yet awhile, may be they may come round — 
 begad, and upon my honour and reputation, I 
 shouldn't wish to lose the girl — no, father, don't 
 forgive them yet awhile." 
 
 " Phil, we'll do better for you, boy — don't be a 
 fool, I say, but have sense — I tell you what, Phil," 
 continued his father, and his face assumed a ghastly, 
 deadly look, at once dark and palhd, " Hsten to me ; 
 — I'll forgive him, Phil, until the nettle, the chick- 
 weed, the burdock, the fulsome preshagh, the black 
 fungus, the slimiest weed that grows — aye, till the 
 green mould of ruin itself, grows upon the spot that 
 is now his hearth — till the winter rain beats into, and 
 the winter wind howls over, it." 
 
 " No marriage, then," said Phil. 
 
 '' No marriage ; but what keeps Darby O'Drive ? 
 the ra.scal should have been here before — oh no,"
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 37 
 
 said he, looking at Ms watch, " he has better than 
 half an hour yet." 
 
 *' What steps do you intend to take, father ?" 
 
 " Phil, when I'm prepared, you shall know them. 
 In the mean time leave me — I must write to M' Slime, 
 or send to him. M'Shme's useful at a hint or 
 suggestion, but, with aU his wiliness and hypocrisy, 
 not capable of carrying a difficult matter successfully 
 out ; he overdoes every tiling by too much caution, 
 and consequently gets himself into ridiculous scrapes, 
 besides I cannot, and will not place full confidence in 
 him. He is too oiley, and cants too much, to be 
 trusted ; I tliink, still, we may use him and over- 
 reach him into the bargain. Are you going into 
 Castle Cumber ?" 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " Well, drop these couple of letters in the post 
 office, and tell Rankin he must have the carts finished 
 by Monday next, at the farthest, or it will be worse 
 for him. By the way, I have that fellow in my eye 
 too — he had the assurance to tell me the other day, 
 that he could not possibly undertake the carts until 
 he had M'Loughlin's job at the manufactory finished. 
 Off with you now, I see O'Drive and Hanlon com- 
 ing up." 
 
 Graceful Phil in a few minutes was mounted in
 
 38 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 his usual lofty state on " Handsome Harry," and 
 dashed off to Castle Cumber. 
 
 It may not be improper here, before we proceed 
 farther, to give the reader some additional know- 
 ledge of the parentage and personal history of Mr. 
 Valentine M^Clutchy, as well as a brief statement 
 concerning the Castle Cumber property, and the 
 gentleman who acted in the capacity of head agent. 
 
 The mother, then, of Valentine M'Clutchy, or as 
 he was more generally called, Val the Vulture, was 
 daughter to the county gaoler, Christie Clank by 
 name, who had risen regularly tlirough all the gra- 
 dations of office, until the power of promotion could 
 no farther go. His daughter, Kate Clank, was a 
 celebrated beauty, and enjoyed a considerable extent 
 of local reputation, independently of being a great 
 favourite with the junior portion of the grand jury. 
 Among the latter, however, there was one, a young 
 squire of very libertine principles, named Deaker, 
 whose suit to the fair Miss Clank proved more suc- 
 cessful than those of his competitors, and the conse- 
 quence was — the appearance of young Val. The 
 reader, therefore, already perceives, that M'Clut- 
 chy's real name was Deaker ; but perhaps he is not 
 aware, that, in the times of which we write, it was 
 usual for young unmarried men of wealth, not to
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 39 
 
 suffer their illegitimate children to be named after 
 them. There were, indeed, many reasons for this. 
 In the first place, the mere fact of assuming the 
 true name, was a standing argument of the father's 
 profligacy. Secondly, the morals of the class and 
 the period were so licentious, that the legitimate 
 portion of a family did not like to be either out- 
 numbered or insulted by their namesakes and illegi- 
 timate relatives, almost at every turn of the pubhc 
 roads. In the tliird place, a young man of this de- 
 scription could not, when seeking for a wife, feel the 
 slightest inclination to have a living catalogue of his 
 immorahties enumerated to her, under the names of 
 Tom, or Dick, or Val so and so, all his children. 
 This, of course, was an involuntary respect paid to 
 modesty, and, perhaps, the strongest argument for 
 suppressing the true name. The practice, however, 
 was by no means universal; but in frequent in- 
 stances it existed, and Val the Vulture's was one of 
 them. He was named after neither father nor 
 mother, but after his grandmother, by the gaoler's 
 side. Deaker would not suffer his name to be as- 
 sumed ; and so far as his mother was concerned, the 
 general tenor of her life rendered the reminis- 
 cence of her's any thing but creditable to her off- 
 spring. With respect to liis education, Val's grati-
 
 40 VALENTINE M*CLUTCHY, 
 
 tude was principally due to his grandfather Clank, 
 who had him well instructed. He himself, from the 
 beginning, was shrewd, clever, and intelligent, and 
 possessed the power, in a singular degree, of adapt- 
 ing himself to his society, whenever he felt it his 
 interest to do so. He could, indeed, raise or depress 
 his manners in a very surprising degree, and with 
 an effort that often occasioned astonishment. On 
 the other hand, he was rapacious, unscrupulous, 
 cowardly, and so vindictive, that he was never known 
 to forgive an injury. These are quahties to wliich, 
 when you add natural adi'oitness and talent, you 
 have such a character as has too frequently im- 
 pressed itself, with something like the agreeable sen- 
 sations produced by a red hot burning iron, upon the 
 distresses, fears, and necessities of the Irish people. 
 M^Clutchy rose from the humble office of process^- 
 server, to that of bailiff's follower, bailiff, head- 
 bailiff, barony constable, until, finally, he felt him- 
 self a kind of factotum on the Castle Cumber pro- 
 perty ; and in proportion as he rose, so did his man- 
 ners rise with him. For years before his introduc- 
 tion to our readers, he was the practical manager of 
 the estate ; and so judiciously did he regulate his 
 own fortunes on it, that without any shameless or 
 illegal breach of honesty, he actually contrived to
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 41 
 
 become a wealthy man, and to live in a respectable 
 maimer. Much, however, will have more, and Val 
 was rapacious. On finding himself comparatively- 
 independent, he began to take more enlarged, but 
 still very cautious measures to secure some of the 
 good things of the estate to him and his. This he 
 was the better enabled to do, as he had, by the ap- 
 parent candour of his manner, completely wormed 
 himself into the full confidence of the head agent — a 
 gentleman of high honour and integrity, remark- 
 able aUke for humanity and benevolence ; but utterly 
 without suspicion. Two or three farms, whose leases 
 dropped, he most ioiquitously took into his own 
 hands, and so far wheedled the agent, that he in- 
 duced that gentleman to think he was rendering a 
 service to the property by doing so. The tenantry 
 now began to murmur — a complaint came here, and 
 another there — here was an instance of private and 
 disguised oppression ; and this was followed by a 
 vindictive attempt to injure either the property or 
 character of some one who had the courage to tell 
 him what he thought of his conduct. 
 
 Val, apprehending that he might be outborne by 
 too powerful a mass of testimony, contrived just 
 then, through his misrepresentations to the agent, 
 who still confided in liim, and by the political influ-
 
 42 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 ence of his father, the squire, who was the landlord's 
 strongest electioneering supporter in the county, to 
 get himself formally appointed under-agent. Feel- 
 ing now quite confident in his strength, and that his 
 hold on the prejudices, and, we may add, the igno- 
 rance of the absentee landlord, was as strong, if not 
 stronger than those of the agent himself, he began 
 to give a greater and less guarded scope to his 
 natural principles. Mr. Hickman, the agent, had 
 been strongly disgusted by the pohtical profligacy 
 with which the union was carried ; and had, on more 
 than one occasion, intimated a doubt whether, as an 
 honest man, he could render political support to any 
 one who had participated in its corruption, or recog- 
 nised the justice of those principles on which it had 
 been carried. All this gave M'Clutchy that un- 
 perturbable Lasolence wliich is inseparable from petty 
 tyranny and licensed extortion. Day after day did 
 his character come out in all its natural deformity. 
 The outcry against him was not now confined to this 
 portion of the property, or that — it became pretty 
 general ; and, perhaps, at the time we have brought 
 him on the stage, there was not a man in Ireland, 
 holding the situation he did, who was more feared 
 and more detested. 
 
 Some time previous to this, however, Hickman's
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 43 
 
 eyes were opened to his undisguised character, and 
 what he could do he did. On finding that the Vul- 
 ture was reviving all the oppressive usages with 
 which property in Ireland is so penally taxed, he 
 immediately gave orders that such exactions should 
 be discontinued by M'Clutchy, and resisted by the 
 tenants. In spite of all this, however, there were 
 upon the property many timid persons, who, dreading 
 his mahgnity of purpose, still continued to yield to 
 his avarice and rapacity that which nothing else, 
 but a dread of his vengeance could extort from them. 
 Thus did he feather his nest at the expense of their 
 4;errors. 
 
 Hickman, who had also been agent to old Toper- 
 toe, felt a kind of personal attachment to that good 
 humoured reprobate, so long as he believed him to be 
 honest. Old Tom's venality, however, at the union, 
 made him rather sick of the connection, and the con- 
 duct, or rather the more expensive profligacy of the 
 young absentee Lord, rendered his situation as an 
 honest and humane agent, one of great pain to him- 
 self, considering his position between landlord and 
 tenant. 
 
 He knew besides, that many men of his class had 
 taken most scandalous advantages of the embarrass- 
 ments which their dishonesty had occasioned in the
 
 44 VALENTINE M^CLUTCHY, 
 
 affairs of their employers, and lent them their own 
 rents in the moments of distress, in order to get a 
 lien on their property. For this reason, and out of 
 a feehng of honour and self respect, Mr. Hickman 
 had made it a point of principle to lend the young 
 Lord no money under any circumstances. As far as 
 he could legitimately, and within the ordinary calcu- 
 lations of humanity, feed Lord Cumber's prodigahty 
 of expenditure he did it. This, however, was not 
 exactly the kind of agent which his lordship wanted, 
 and however highly he respected and honoured him, 
 still that direful word necessity goaded him into a 
 forgetfulness of his own real interests, and of what 
 was due to Hickman. He wanted an agent with 
 less feeling, less scruple, less independence, and more 
 of that accommodating principle which would yield 
 itself to, and go down with, the impetuous cur- 
 rent of his offensive vices, and satisfy their cravings 
 even at his own ruin. Such, then, was M'Clut- 
 chy — such the position of Mr. Hickman, the 
 agent — and such the general state of the Castle 
 Cumber property. As to the principles and neces- 
 sities of its proprietor, if they are not already known, 
 we may assure our readers that they soon will be. 
 Constitution Cottage, M'Clutchy's residence, was, 
 in fact, no cottage at all, as we have said, but a
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 45 
 
 very respectable house, and of considerable size. 
 Attached to it was an extensive yard and office 
 houses, an excellent garden, orchard, pigeon house, 
 and every thing, in fact, that could constitute sub- 
 stantial comfort and convenience. It was situated 
 beside a small clump of old beeches, that sheltered it 
 from the north — to the front lay, at a few miles 
 distance, a range of fine mountains — and between 
 them stretched as rich a valley, both in fertihty and 
 beauty, as the eye of man could rest upon. The 
 ground before the door fell by an easy and gradual 
 descent, until a httle further down it reached a green 
 expanse of level meadow, through which a clear 
 river wound its hngering course, as if loath to pass 
 away from between the rich and grassy banks that 
 enclosed it. It was, in fact, a spot of that calm and 
 perfectly rural character which draws the heart un- 
 consciously to the secret charm that rests upon it, 
 and which, even the casual traveller leaves behind 
 him with regret. Some improvements were at the 
 present time in an incipient state — such as planta- 
 tions — garden walls — and what seemed the lines of 
 an avenue, or approach to the house, which, by the 
 way, stood in the centre of a farm that consisted of 
 about eighty Irish acres. 
 
 At length a single knock came, which was given
 
 46 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 by O'Drive, for Hanlon, who was his assistant, 
 durst not attempt such a thing in his presence; 
 and if ever a knock conveyed the duphcity of the 
 man who gave it, that did. Though, as we said, but 
 a single one, yet there was no mistaking its double 
 meaning. It was at once impudent and servile ; it 
 was impudent, as much as to say to the servants, 
 " why don't you open the door quickly for a man 
 who is so deep in your master's confidence as I am?" 
 while to that master himself, it said, or seemed to 
 say, "I am your creature, your instrument, your 
 slave, ready to execute any oppression, any hardship, 
 or villany, on which you can employ me." 
 
 It is said, and we believe with truth, that in 
 military hfe no officer is so severe and oppressive as 
 he who has risen from the ranks, and been most 
 obsequious there. We do not doubt it, for the 
 principle is a strong one in human nature, and is by 
 no means confined to either the army or navy. At 
 all events, shuffling, and cringing, and shnking 
 Darby O'Drive presented himself to Val the Vulture. 
 There was a downcast, cowardly, shy, uneasy, ex- 
 pression in his blank, straggling, features, that 
 seemed to say, for God's sake spare my very hfe — 
 don't anniliilate me — here I am — you see through 
 me — heart, spirit, and soul — body, lungs, and hghts
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 47 
 
 — could I tell you a lie ? No, Could 1 deceive 
 you — such a man as you, that can look through me 
 as if I was a lanthorn, or a pain of glass without a 
 bull's eye in it. No ! only let me live and I'll do 
 your bidding. 
 
 " Well," said Val, in a sharp, imperious tone, 
 " you're punctual for a wonder." 
 
 " God be praised for that," replied Darby, wiping 
 the top of his nose with the finger and thumb of an 
 old mitten, " heaven be praised that I'm not late." 
 
 " Hold your damned canting tongue, you knave, 
 what place is this for it ?" 
 
 " Knave ! well I am then." 
 
 " Yes, you know you are — you are all knaves — 
 every bailiff is a knave — ahem — unless, indeed, one 
 in a thousand." 
 
 " It's truth, indeed, plaise your honour." 
 
 " Not but there's worse than you after all, and be 
 damned to you." 
 
 " An' betther, sir, too, i' you plaise, for sure, God 
 help me, I'm not what I ought to be." 
 
 " Well, mend then, why dont you ? for you want 
 it. Come now, no jaw, I tell you, but answer me 
 what I am about to ask you ; not a word now." 
 
 " Well, no then, plaise your honour, I won't in 
 thrath."
 
 48 VALENTINE M^CLUTCHY, 
 
 " Did you warn the townland of Ballymackscud ?" 
 
 " Yis, plaise your honour." 
 
 " Are they ready — have they the rent ?" 
 
 " Only some o' them, Sir — an other some is axin* 
 for time, the thieves." 
 
 " Who are asking for time ?" 
 
 " Why the O'Shaughrans Sir — hopin', indeed, 
 that your honour will let them wait till the markets 
 rises, an' not be forced to sell the grain whin the 
 prices is so low now, that it would ruin them — ^but 
 it's wondherful the onraisonableness of some people. 
 Says I, 'his honour, Mr. M'Clutchy, is only doin' his 
 duty ; but a betther hearted or a kinder man never 
 bruk the world's bread than he is to them that de- 
 sarves at his hands ;' so. Sir, they began to — but — 
 well, well, its no matther — I tould them they were 
 wrong — made it plain to them — but they wouldn't 
 be convinced, say what I might." 
 
 " Why, what did they say, were they abusing me 
 — I suppose so ?" 
 
 " Och ! the poor so wis, sure it was only ignorance 
 and fooHshness on their part — onraisonable cratures 
 all or most o' them is." 
 
 " Let me know at once what they said, you knave, 
 or upon my honour and soul I'll turn you out of the 
 room and bring in Hanlon."
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 49 
 
 " Plaise your honour, he wasn't present — I left 
 him outside, in regard that I didn't think he was 
 fit to be trust — a safe witn — no matther, 'twas for a 
 raison I had." He gave a look at M'Clutchy as he 
 spoke, compounded of such far and distant cunning, 
 scarcely perceptible — and such obvious, yet retreat- 
 ing cowardice, scarcely perceptible also — that no 
 language could convey any notion of it. 
 
 " Ah !" said Val, *• you are a neat lad — but go 
 on — what did they say, for I must have it out of 
 you." 
 
 *' That I may die in happiness, your honour, but 
 I'm afeard to tell you — but, sure, if you'd give your 
 promise, Sir — your bright word of honour, that 
 you'd not pay me off for it, I'll tell you." 
 
 " Ah ! you d d crawling reptile, out with it — 
 
 I won't pay you off." 
 
 " Well, then, here it is — oh ! the curse o' Crom- 
 wel an them this day, for an ungrateful pack ! they 
 said, your honour, that — bad luck to them I pray — 
 that there wasn't so black hearted a scoundrel on 
 the face of the airth as your four quarthers — that 
 the gallows is gapin' for you — and that there's as 
 many curses before you in hell as 'ud bhsther a 
 griddle." 
 
 M'Clutchy's face assumed its usual expression of 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 diabolical malignity, whilst, at the same time, he 
 gave a look so piercing at Darby, as if suspecting 
 that the curse, from its pecuhar character, was at 
 least, partially his own invention, — that the latter, 
 who stood like a criminal, looking towards the floor, 
 felt precisely what was going forward in the other's 
 mind, and knew that he had nothing else for it but 
 to look him steadily in the face, as a mark of his 
 perfect innocence. Gradually, therefore, and slowly 
 he raised his small grey eyes until they met those of 
 M'Clutchy, and thus the gaze continued for nearly 
 a minute between them, and that with such steadiness 
 on both sides, that they resembled a mesmeric doctor 
 and his patient, rather than anything else to which 
 we could compare them. On the part of M'Clutchy 
 the gaze was that of an inquisitor looking into the 
 heart of him whom he suspected ; on that of Darby, 
 the eye, unconscious of evil, betrayed nothing but 
 the purest simphcity and candour. 
 
 And yet, when we consider that Darby most un- 
 questionably did not only ornament, but give pecu- 
 liar point to the opinions expressed by the tenantry 
 against the Vulture, perhaps we ought to acknow- 
 ledge that of the two he possessed a larger share of 
 histrionic talent. 
 
 At length M'Clutchy, whose eye, for reasons with
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 51 
 
 which the reader is already acquainted, was never 
 either a firm or a steady one, removed it from 
 Darby, who nevertheless followed it with a simple 
 but pertinacious look, as much as to say, I have told 
 you truth, and am now waiting your leisure to 
 proceed. 
 
 "\Miat do you stare at?" said M'Clutchy, strongly 
 disposed to vent his malignity on the next object to 
 him ; " and, you beggarly scoundrel, what did you 
 say to that ? Tell me, or I'll heave you, head 
 foremost, through the window ?" 
 
 " WTiy," rephed Darby, in a quiet, confident, and 
 insinuating tone, " I raisoned wid them — raisoned 
 wid theni like a Christian. 'Now, SheemusO'Saugh- 
 ran,' says I, ' you've said what I know to be a lie. 
 I'm not the man to put ill between you and his 
 honour, Mr. M'Clutchy ; but at the same time,' says 
 I, ' I'm his sarvint, and as an honest man, I must do 
 my duty. • I don't intend to mintion a syllable of 
 what you said this day ; but as his sarvint, and get- 
 tin' bread through him, and undlier him, I can't, 
 nor I won't, suffer his honour to be backbitten before 
 his own face — for it's next to that. Now,' says I, 'be 
 guided by me, and all will be right. In the first 
 place, you know, he's entitled to duty-foiul* — in the 
 
 These were iniquitous exactions, racked from the poor ten- 
 antry by the old landlords or their agents.
 
 52 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 next place, he's entitled to duty-work. ' Ay, the land- 
 lord, is,' said they, ' but not the Vul ' ' Whisht,' 
 
 says I, in a friendly whisper, puttin' my hand across 
 Dan's mouth, and winkin' both my eyes at him; 
 ' send his honour down a pair of them fine fat tur- 
 keys — I know his honour's fond o' them ; but that's 
 not all,' says I — * do you wish to have a friend in 
 coort ? I know you do. Well and good — he's draw- 
 ing gravel to make a new avenue early next week, 
 so, Sheemus O'Shaughran, if you wish to have two 
 friends in coort — a great one and a httle one' — 
 manin' myself, God pardon me, for the little one, 
 your honour — ' you will,' says I, ' early on next 
 Monday mornin', send down a pair of horses and 
 carts, and give him a week's duty-work. Then,' 
 says I, * lave the rest to somebody, for I won't name 
 names.' — No, your honour, I didn't bring Hanlon 
 in. — By the same token, as a proof of it, there's 
 young Bandy Shaughran, the son, wid a turkey 
 under aich arm, comiii' up to the hall door." 
 
 " Well," proceeded M'Clutchy, without a single 
 observation, " did you call on the Slevins ?" 
 
 " Yes, Sir ; they're ready." 
 
 " The Magonnels ?" 
 
 " Not ready. Sir ; but a pair of geese, and two
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 53 
 
 men on next Thursday and Saturday. On Friday 
 they must go to market to buy two slips.''* 
 
 *-' Widow Gaffney ?" 
 
 " Not ready, Sir ; but that I may never die in sin, 
 a 'cute shaver." 
 
 *' Why so — what did she say ?" 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Hickman, Sir, the head agent, your 
 honour ; that's the go. Throth, the same Mr. 
 Hickman is — ^but, God forbid, Sir, I'd spake a word 
 against the absent ; but any way, he's a good round 
 thrifle, one way or the other, out of your pocket, 
 from Jinny warry to December." 
 
 "Darby, my good man, and most impertinent 
 scoundrel, if you wish to retain your present situa- 
 tion, never open your lips against that excellent 
 gentleman, Mr. Hickman. Mark my words — out 
 you go, if I ever discover that you mention him with 
 disrespect." 
 
 " Well, I won't then ; and God forgive me for 
 spakin' the truth — when it's not right." 
 
 " Did you see the MulhoUands ?" 
 
 *' Mr. Hickman again. Sir, an' bad luck to 
 
 Beg pardon. Sir, I forgot. Throth, Sir, when I 
 mentioned the duty work an the new aveny, they 
 f whistled at you." 
 
 * Young pigs.
 
 54 VALENTINE M^CLUTCHY, 
 
 ''Whistled at me!" 
 
 " Yes, Sir ; an' said that Mr. Hickman tould 
 them to give you neither duty fowl nor duty work, 
 but to do their own business, and let you do yours. 
 Ay, and 'twas the same from all the rest." 
 
 " Well," said Val, going to the window and look- 
 ing abroad for a minute or two, — " well — so much 
 for Ballymackscud ; now for its next neighbour, 
 Bally mackfud." 
 
 *' Mr. Hickman again, Sir. The devil sweep the 
 same Hickman, any way," said Darby, in an aside, 
 which he knew the other could easily hear. " Out 
 of the whole townland. Sir, all I got was two men 
 for the aveny — a goose from Barney Scaddan ; 
 and her last hen, along wid half-a-dozen eggs, from 
 that dacent creature. Widow M'Murt. Throth four 
 fine httle childre she has, if they had any thing on 
 them, or any thing to keep body and sowl to- 
 gether." 
 
 " You warned them all, of course ?" 
 
 " Every sowl in the townland of Bally mackfud ; 
 and there's the upshot. But it's all Mr. Hickman, 
 Sir ; for he tould them — ' I will have none of this 
 work,' says he ; ' the tenants mustn't be harrished 
 and fleeshed in this manner,' says he. Yes, your 
 honour, that's the upshot from Ballymackfud — two
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 55 
 
 days' work — a sick goose (for I disremembered to 
 mention that Barney said, wid a wink, that she'd 
 require great attintion, as she was in a delicate state 
 of health) — one ould hen, and half a dozen eggs ; 
 which wouldn't be the case, only for Hickman — not 
 but he's a very respectable gentleman — by all ac- 
 counts." 
 
 " I told you before, sirra, that I will have nothing 
 offensive to him mentioned in my presence. Give 
 this letter to Mr. M' Slime, and bring me an answer 
 as soon as you can. Will you have a glass of 
 spirits ?" 
 
 " Would it be intherfairin' wid my duty. Sir ?" 
 " If you think so, don't take it ; you ought to 
 know best." 
 
 " Well, then, for this one time, in regard of a 
 Ihin-roe* or the red wather in my stomach, I'll try 
 it. I drank bog-bine last night goin' to bed, but 
 divil a morsel o' good it did me." 
 
 M'Clutchy handed him a full glass, which he held 
 steadily before his eye, till the other put up the 
 decanter. 
 
 " Your honour's health, Sir," said he, " and fire- 
 side ; and if you war to throw me out o' fifty win- 
 
 * Lhin-roCy or red water — the Irish name for heart-burn.
 
 56 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, ETC. 
 
 dies, I'll add to tliat — here's wishin' that the devil 
 had his own, and I know where you'd soon be." 
 
 '' How, you viDanous scoundrel" said Val, starting 
 with rising wrath, *' what do you mean by that?" 
 
 Darby made no reply, but hastily tossing off the 
 glass, he seized his hat, bolted outside the door, and 
 putting in his head, said in a kind of loud but con- 
 fidential whisper — 
 
 " In Hickman's place, your honour 1"
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SOLOMON M'SLIME, A RELIGIOUS ATTORNEY HIS OFFICE 
 
 ' — ^FAMILY DEVOTIONS SUBSTITUTE FOR BREAKFAST 
 
 MISPRISION BLASPHEMY LETTER ON BUSINESS. 
 
 Pass we now to another worthy character, who had 
 locaUty upon the aforesaid property of Castle Cum- 
 ber. Solomon M'SHme, the law agent, was a satis- 
 factory proof of the ease with which rehgion and law 
 may meet and aid each other in the heart and spirit 
 of the same person. An attorney, no doubt, is at all 
 times an amiable, honest, and feehng individual, 
 simply upon professional principles ; but when to all 
 this is added the benignant influence of serious and 
 decided piety, it would not be an easy task to find, 
 among the several classes which compose society in 
 general, any thing so truly engaging, so morally 
 taintless, so sweetly sanctimonious, so seductively 
 comely, as is that pure and evangelical exhibition 
 of human character, that is found to be developed 
 in a religious attorney.
 
 58 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 Solomon M' Slime was a man in whose heart the 
 two principles kept their constant residence ; indeed 
 so beautifully were they blended, that his law might 
 frequently be mistaken for rehgion, just as his reli- 
 gion, on the other hand, was often known to smack 
 strongly of law. In this excellent man, these prin- 
 ciples accommodated each other with a benignant 
 indulgence, that manifested the beauty of hohness 
 in a high degree. If, for instance, law in its pro- 
 gress presented to him any obstacle of doubtful 
 morahty, religion came forward with a sweet but 
 serious smile, and said to her companion, " My dear 
 friend, or sister, in this case / permit you." And 
 on the contrary, if rehgion at any time felt over 
 sensitive or scrupulous, law had fifty arguments of 
 safety, and precedent, and high authority to justify 
 her. But, indeed, we may observe, that in a reli- 
 gious attorney, these illiberal scruples do not often 
 occur. Mr. M' Slime knew the advantages of reli- 
 gion too well, to feel that contraction of the mind 
 and principles, which in so many ordinary cases 
 occasions religion and common morahty to become 
 almost identical. Religion to him was a friend — a 
 patroness in whose graces he stood so high, that she 
 permitted him to do many things which those who 
 were more estranged from her durst not attempt.
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 59' 
 
 He enjoyed that state of blessed freedom which is 
 accorded to so few, and, consequently, had his " per- 
 missions" and his " privileges" to go in the wicked 
 warfares of this trying world much greater lengths 
 than those who were less gifted and favoured by the 
 sweet and consoHng principle which regulated and 
 beautified his life. 
 
 Solomon was a small man, thin, sharp-featured, 
 and solemn. He was dehberate in his manner and 
 movements, and correct, but slow of speech. Though 
 solemn, however, he was not at all severe or queru- 
 lous, as is too frequently the case with those who 
 affect to be religious. Far from it. On the con- 
 trary, in him the gospel gifts appeared in a cheer- 
 ful gi^avity of disposition, and a good-humoured 
 lubricity of temper, that could turn with equal flexi- 
 bility and suavity to every incident of life, no matter 
 how trying to the erring heart. All the hinges of 
 his spirit seemed to have been graciously and abun- 
 dantly oiled, and such was his serenity, that it was 
 quite evident he had a light within him. It was 
 truly a pleasure to speak to, or transact business 
 with such a man, he seemed always so full of in- 
 ward peace, and comfort, and happiness. Nay, 
 upon some occasions, he could rise to a kind of 
 sanctified facetiousness that was perfectly delightful,
 
 60 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, \ 
 
 i 
 
 and in the very singleness of his heart, would, of an 
 odd time, let out, easily and gently it is true, a : 
 small joke, that savoured a good deal of secular 
 humour. i 
 
 Then he was so full of charity and affection for 
 all that were frail and erring among our kind, that 
 he never, or seldom, breathed a harsh word against i 
 the offender. Or if, in the fulness of his benevo- 
 lence, he found it necessary to enumerate their ' 
 faults, and place them, as it were, in a catalogue, it j 
 was done in a spirit of such love, mingled with sor- j 
 row, that those to whom he addressed himself, often 
 thought it a pity that he himself did not honour ' 
 rehgion, by becoming the offender, simply for the 1 
 sake of afterwards becoming the penitent. 
 
 In the religious world he was a very active and j 
 prominent man — punctual in his devotional exer- 
 cises, and always on the look out for some of those 
 unfortunate brands with which society abounds, j 
 that he might, as he termed it, have the pleasure of j 
 plucking them out of the burning. He never went 
 without a bible and a variety of tracts in his pocket, 
 and seldom was missed from the platform of a reli- 
 gious meeting. He received subscriptions for all ■ 
 public and private charities, and has repeatedly been | 
 known to offer and afford consolation to the widow \
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 61 
 
 and orphan, at a time when the pressure of business 
 rendered the act truly one of Christian interest and 
 affection. 
 
 The hour was not more than ten o'clock a.m. 
 when Darby entered liis office, in wliich, by the 
 way, lay three or four bibles, in different places. In 
 a recess on one side of the chimney-piece, stood a 
 glass-covered book-case, filled with the usual works 
 on his profession, whilst hung upon the walls, and 
 consequently nearer observation, were two or three 
 pensile shelves, on which were to be found a small 
 collection of religious volumes, tracts, and other pro- 
 ductions, all bearing on the same subject. On the 
 desk was a well-thumbed bible to the right, which 
 was that used at family prayer ; and on the opposite 
 side, a rehgious almanack, and a copy of congrega- 
 tion hymns. 
 
 Darby on reaching the hall-door knocked with 
 considerably more decision than he had done at 
 M'Clutchy's, but without appearing to have made 
 himself heard ; after waiting patiently for some 
 time, however, he knocked again, and at length the 
 door was opened by a very pretty servant girl, 
 about seventeen, who, upon his inquiring if her 
 master was at home, replied in a sighing voice, and 
 with a demure face, '' oh, yes — at family prayer."
 
 62 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 '* When he's done," said Darby, " maybe you'd 
 be kind enough to say that Darby O' Drive has a 
 message for him." 
 
 The pretty servant did not nod — an act which 
 she considered as too flippant for the solemnity of 
 devotion — but she gently bowed her head, and 
 closed her eyes in assent — upon which was heard a 
 somewhat cheerful groan, replete with true unction, 
 inside the parlour, followed by a voice that said, 
 " ah ! Susanna!" pronounced in a tone of grave but 
 placid remonstrance ; Susanna immediately entered, 
 and the voice, which was that of our attorney, pro- 
 ceeded — " Susanna take your place — long measure, 
 eight lines, four eights, and two sixes." The psalm 
 was then raised or pitched by Solomon himself, who 
 was followed by six or eight others, each in a differ- 
 ent key, but all with such reluctance to approach 
 their leader, that from a principle of unworthiness, 
 they allowed him, as the more pious, to get far in ad- 
 vance of them. In this manner they sang two verses, 
 and it was remarkable, that although on coming to 
 the conclusion, Solomon was far ahead, and the rest 
 nowhere, yet, from the same principle of unworthi- 
 ness, they left the finish, as they did the start, 
 altogether to himself. The psalm was accordingly 
 wound up by a kind of understanding or accompani-
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 63 
 
 ment between his mouth and nose, which seemed 
 each moved by a zealous but godly struggle to excel 
 the other, if not in melody at least in loudness. 
 They then all knelt down, and Solomon launched, 
 with a sonorous voice, into an extempore prayer, 
 which was accompanied by a solemn commentary of 
 groanings, sighings, meanings, and muffled ejacula- 
 tions, that cannot otherwise be described, except by 
 saying, that they resembled something between a 
 screech and a scream. 
 
 Their devotions being over. Darby, having de- 
 livered M'Clutchy's letter, was desired to take a seat 
 in the office, until Mr. M' Slime should be at leisure 
 to send a reply. 
 
 " Sit down, my good friend. Darby, sit down, and 
 be at ease, at least in your body ; I do not suffer 
 any one who has an immortal soul to be saved to 
 stand in my office — and as you have one to be saved, 
 Darby, you must sit. The pride of this vain life is 
 our besetting sin, and happy are they who are 
 enabled to overcome it — may He be praised ! — sit 
 down." 
 
 *' I'm thankful to you, sir," said Darby, " oh, 
 thin, Mr. M'SKme, it would be well for the world if 
 every attorney in it was like you, sir — there would 
 be little honesty goin' asthray, sir, if there was."
 
 G4 
 
 " Sam Sharpe, my dear boy, if you have not that 
 bill of costs finished — " 
 
 " No sir." 
 
 " A good boy, Sam — well, do not omit thirteen 
 and four pence, for two letters, which I ought to 
 have sent — as a part of my moral, independently of 
 my professional duty — to widow Lenehan, having 
 explained to her, by word of mouth, that which I 
 ought in conscience, to have written — but indeed my 
 conscience often leads me to the — what should I say ? 
 — the merciful side in these matters. No, Darby, 
 my friend, you cannot see into my heart, or you 
 would not say so — I am frail. Darby, and sinful — I 
 am not up to the standard, my friend, neither have 
 I acted up to my privileges — the freedom of the 
 gospel is a blessed thing, provided we abuse it not — 
 well, Sam, my good young friend — " 
 
 " That was entered before. Sir, under the head of 
 instructions." 
 
 a Very right — apparently very right, Sam, and 
 reasonable for you to think so — but tliis was on a 
 different occasion, although the same case." 
 
 '' Oh, I beg pardon, Su*, I did not know that." 
 
 " Sam, do not beg pardon — not of me — nor of any 
 but One — go there, Sam, you require it; we all 
 require it, at least I do abundantly. Darby, my
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 65 
 
 friend, it is a principle with me never to lose an 
 opportunity of throwing in a word in season — but as 
 the affairs of this life must be attended to — only in 
 a secondary degree, I admit — I will, therefore, place 
 you at the only true fountain where you can be 
 properly refreshed. Take this bible. Darby, and it 
 matters not where you open it, read and be filled." 
 
 Now, as Darby, in consequence of his early atten- 
 dance upon M'Clutchy, had been obliged to leave 
 home that morning without his breakfast, it must be 
 admitted that he was not just then in the best pos- 
 sible disposition to draw much edification from it. 
 After poring over it with a very sombre face for 
 some time, he at length looked shrewdly at M'Shme, 
 closing one eye a httle, as was his custom ; " I beg 
 pardon, Sir," said he, '' but if I'm not mistaken 
 this book I beheve is intended more for the sowl 
 than the body." 
 
 " For the body ! truly. Darby, that last is a 
 carnal thought, and I am sorry to hear it from your 
 hps : — the bible is a spu-itual book, my friend, and 
 spiritually must it be received." 
 
 " But, to a man like me, who hasn't had his 
 breakfast to-day yet, how will it be sarviceable? 
 will reading it keep off hunger or fill my stomach ?" 
 
 '• Ah! Darby, my friend, that is gross talk — such 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66' VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 views of divine truth are really a perversion of the 
 gifts of heaven. That book although it will not fill 
 your stomach, as you grossly call it, actually will do it 
 figuratively, which in point of fact is the same thing, 
 or a greater — it will enable you to bear hunger as a 
 dispensation, Darby, to which it is your duty as a 
 Christian, to submit. Nay, it will do more, my 
 friend ; it will exalt your faith to such a divine pitch, 
 that if you read it with the proper spirit, you will 
 pray that the dispensation thus laid on you may 
 continue, in order that the inner man may be 
 purged." 
 
 " Faith, and Mr. M'Slime, with great respect, if 
 that is your doctrine it isn't your practice. The sorra 
 word of prayer — God bless the prayers ! — came out 
 o' your lips to-day, antil you laid in a good warm 
 breakfast, and afther that, for fraid of disappoint- 
 ments, the very first thing you prayed for was your 
 daily bread — didn't I hear you ? But I'll tell you 
 what, Sir, ordher me my breakfast, and then I'll be 
 spakin' to you. A hungry man — or a hungry 
 woman, or her hungry childre, can't eat bibles ; 
 although it is well known, God knows, that when 
 hunger, and famine, and starvation are widin them 
 and upon them, that the same bible, but nothing else, 
 is handed to them by pious people in the shape of
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 67 
 
 consolation and relief. Now I'm tliinkin', Mr. 
 M' Slime, that that is not the best way to make the 
 bible respected. Are you goin' to give me my break- 
 fast, Sir? upon my sowl, beggin' your pardon, if 
 you do, I'll bring the bible home wid me, if that will 
 satisfy you, for we haven t got e'er a one in our own 
 little cabin." 
 
 " Sharpe, my good boy, I'U trouble you to take 
 that bible out of his hands. I am not in the slightest 
 degree offended, Darby — you will yet, I trust, live 
 to know better, may He grant it ! I overlook the 
 misprision of blasphemy on your part, for you didn't 
 know what you said ? but you will, you will. 
 
 "This is a short reply to Mr. M'Clutchy's note. I 
 shall see him on my way to the sessions to-morrow, 
 but I have told liim so in it. And now, my friend, be 
 assured I overlook the ungodly and carnal tenour of 
 your conversation — we are all frail and prone to 
 error ; I, at least, am so — stUl we must part as 
 Christians ought, Darby. You have asked me for a 
 breakfast, but I overlook that also — I ought to over- 
 look it as a Christian ; for is not your immortal soul 
 of infinitely greater value than your perishable body? 
 Undoubtedly — and as a proof that I value it more, 
 receive this — this, my brother sinner — oh ! that I 
 could say my brother Christian also ! — receive it,
 
 68 VALENTINE M*CLUTCHY, 
 
 Darby, and in tlie proper spirit too ; it is a tract 
 written by the Rev. Vesuvius M'Slug, entitled 
 ' Spiritual Food for Babes of Grace ;* I have myself 
 found it graciously consolatory and refresliing, and 
 I hope that you also may, my friend !" 
 
 " Begad, Sir," said Darby, '^ it may be very 
 good in its way, and I've no doubt but it's a very 
 generous and Christian act in you to give it — 
 espeshilly since it cost you nothing — but for all that, 
 upon my sowl, I'm strongly of opinion that to a 
 hungry man it's a bad substitute for a breakfast." 
 
 " Ah ! by the way. Darby," lending a deaf ear to 
 this observation, " have you heard, within the last 
 day or two, anything of Mr. M'Clutchy's father, 
 Mr. Deaker — how he is ?" 
 
 "^Vhy, Sir," replied Darby, " I'm tould he's 
 breaking down fast, but the divil a one of him will 
 give up the lady. Parsons, and ministers, and 
 even priests, have all been at him ; but it's useless : 
 he curses and dams them right and left, and won't 
 be attended by any one but her — hadn't you betther 
 try him, Mr.M'Slime? Maybe you might succeed. 
 Who knows but a little of the ' Spiritual Food for 
 Babes of Grace,' might sarve him as well as others. 
 There's a case for you. Sure he acknowledges him- 
 self to be a member of the hell-fire club !
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 69 
 
 " He's a reprobate, my friend — impenitent, hope- 
 less. I have myself tried him, spoke with him, 
 reasoned with him, but never was my humility, my 
 patience, so strongly tried. His language I will not 
 repeat — but canting knave, hypocrite, rascal attor — 
 no, it is useless and unedifying to repeat it. Now 
 go, my friend, and do not forget that precious tract 
 which you have thrust so disrespectfully into your 
 pocket." 
 
 Darby, after a shrewd wink at one of the appren- 
 tices, which was returned, passed out, and left Mr. 
 M'Shme to the pursuit of his — salvation. 
 
 In the mean time, as we authors have peculiar 
 *' privileges," as Mr. M'Shme would say, we think 
 it only due to our readers to let them have a peep at 
 M' Slime's note to our friend Valentine M'Clutchy. 
 
 " My dear friend — I felt as deep an interest in 
 the purport of your note as you yourself possibly 
 could. The parties alluded to I appreciate precisely 
 as you do — M'Loughhn has in the most unchristian 
 manner assailed my character as well as your's. So 
 has his partner in the concern — I mean Harman. 
 But then, my friend, are we not Christians, and 
 shall we not return good for evil ? Shall we not 
 forgive them ? Some whispers, hints, very gentle 
 and delicate, have reached my ears, which I do not 
 wish to commit to paper ; — but this I may say, until
 
 70 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 I see you to-morrow, that I think your intentions 
 with respect to M'Loughhn and Harman are pre- 
 mature. There is a screw loose somewhere, so to 
 speak, that is all — but I beheve, I can say, that if 
 your father, Deaker, will act to our purposes, all will 
 be as we could wish. This is a delicate subject, my 
 dear friend, but still, I am of opinion that if you 
 could by any practicable means soften the unfortu- 
 nate female who possesses such an ascendancy over 
 him, all will be right. I would, myself undertake 
 the perilous task for your sake — and perilous to 
 ordinary men I admit it would be, for she is beyond 
 question exceedingly comely. In me this would 
 appear disinterested, whilst in you, suspicion would 
 become strong. Cash is wanted in the quarter you 
 know, and cash has been refused in another quarter, 
 and when we meet I shall tell you more about this 
 matter. In the mean time it is well that there is no 
 legitimate issue — but should he will his property to 
 this Dalilah, or could she be removed ? — I mean 
 to a local distance. But I shall see you to-morrow, 
 (d.v.) when we can have freer conversation upon 
 what may be done. With humble but sincere 
 prayers for your best wishes and welfare, 
 I am, my dear friend, 
 
 Thine in the bonds of Christian love, 
 
 Solomon M' Slime.
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 71 
 
 PS. As it is a principle of mine to neglect no just 
 opportunity of improving my deceitful heart, I 
 bought from a travelling pedlar this morning a book 
 with the remarkable title of ' The Spiritual Attorney, 
 or A Sure Guide to the other world.' I have not yet 
 had time to look at any thing but the title page, and 
 consequently am not able to inform you which of the 
 worlds he alludes to, ha ! ha ! You see, my friend, 
 I do not think there is evil in a joke that is harm- 
 less, or has a moral end in view, as every joke ought 
 to have. Thine as before, 
 
 '' Sol. M'Slime."
 
 CHAPTER IV. ; 
 
 POLL DOOLIN, THE CHILD CADGER RAYMOND, HER \ 
 
 SON SHORT DIALOGUE ON THE TIMES POLL's OPI- 
 NION ON THE CAUSES OF IMMORALITY — SOLOMON IS 1 
 
 GENEROUS A SQUIRE OF THE OLD SCHOOL AND A 
 
 MORAL DIALOGUE. j 
 
 J 
 
 The next morning was that on which the Quarter ' 
 Sessions of Castle Cumber commenced ; and of 
 
 course it was necessary for Darby O 'Drive, who ] 
 
 was always full of business on such occasions, to see \ 
 
 M'Clutchy, in order to receive instructions touching ' 
 
 his duties, on various proceedings connected with \ 
 the estate. He had reached the cross-roads that 
 
 ran about half-way between Constitution Cottage j 
 
 and Castle Cumber, when he met, just where the | 
 
 road turned to M'Clutchy's, a woman named Poll ] 
 Doohn, accompanied, as she mostly was, by her 
 
 son — a poor, harmless idiot, named Raymond ; ; 
 both of whom were well known throughout the 
 
 whole parish. Poll was a thin, sallow woman, with ; 
 
 piercing dark eyes, and a very gipsey-Hke counte- \
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 73 
 
 nance. Her dress was always black, and very much 
 worn ; in fact, every thing about her was black — 
 black stockings, black bonnet, black hair, and black 
 kerchief,' Poll's occupation was indeed a singidar 
 one, and not very creditable to the morals of the 
 day. Her means of living were derived from the 
 employment of cliild-cadger to the Foundling Hos- 
 pital of Dublin. In other words, she lived by con- 
 veying illegitimate cliildren from the places of their 
 birth to the establishment just mentioned, which has 
 been very properly termed a bounty for national 
 immorality. Whenever a birth of this kind occurred, 
 Poll was immediately sent for — received her little 
 charge with a name — whether true or false mattered 
 not — pinned to its dress — then her travelling ex- 
 penses ; after which she dehvered it at the hospital, 
 got a receipt for its delivery, and returned to claim 
 her demand, which was paid only on producing it. 
 In the mean time, the unfortunate infant had to 
 encounter all the comforts of the estabhshment, until 
 it was drafted out to a charter school, in which hot- 
 bed of pollution it received that exquisitely moral 
 education, that enabled it to be sent out into society 
 admirably quahfied to sustain the high character of 
 Protestantism. 
 
 " Morrow, Poll," said Darby ; ''what's the young-
 
 74 VALENTINE m'CLUTCHY, 
 
 est news wid you ? And Raymond, my boy, how 
 goes it wid you ?" 
 
 " I don't care for you," replied the fool ; " you 
 drove away Widow Brannigan's cow, an' left the 
 childre to the black wather. Bad luck to you !" 
 
 Darby started ; for there is a superstition among 
 the Irish, that the curse of an '' innocent" is one of 
 the most unlucky that can be uttered. 
 
 " Don't curse me," rephed Darby ; " sure, Ray- 
 mond, I did only my duty." 
 
 " Then who made you do your duty ?" asked the 
 other. 
 
 " Why, Val the Vul^hem— Mr. M'Clutchy, to 
 be sure." 
 
 " Bad luck to him then !" 
 
 His mother, who had been walking a little before 
 him, turned, and, rushing towards him, put her 
 hand hastily towards his mouth, with the obvious 
 intention of suppressing the imprecation ; but too 
 late ; it had escaped, and be the consequence what 
 it might, Val had got the exciting cause of it. 
 
 "My poor unfortunate boy," said^she, "you 
 oughtn't to curse any body ; stop this minute, and 
 say God bless him." 
 
 "God bless who?" 
 " Mr. M'Clutchy."
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 75 
 
 '' The devil bless him! ha, ha, ha! Doesn't he 
 harry the poor, an, drive away their cows from 
 them — doesn't he rack them, an' rob them — harry 
 them, vack them, rob them — 
 
 " Harry them, rack them, rob them, 
 Rob them, rack them, harry them — 
 Harry them, rack them rob them, 
 Rob them, rack them, harry them !" 
 This he sung in an air somewhat hke " Judy Cal- 
 lahan. 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! Oh the devil bless him ! and they 
 say a blessin' from the devil is very like a curse 
 from God." 
 
 The mother once more put up her hands to his 
 face, but only with the intention of fondling and 
 caressing him. She tenderly stroked down his 
 head, and patted his cheek, and attempted to win 
 him out of the evil humour, into which the sight of 
 Darby had thrown him. Darby could observe, 
 however, that she appeared to be deeply troubled 
 by the idiot's conduct, as was evident by the trem- 
 bhng of her hands, and a perturbation of manner, 
 which she could not conceal. 
 
 " Raymond," she said, soothingly, " won't you be 
 good for me, darlin' — for your own mother, my 
 poor helpless boy ? Won't you be good for me ?"
 
 76 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 •' I will," said he, in a more placid voice. 
 
 " And you will not curse any body any more?" 
 
 " No, mother, no." 
 
 " And won't you bless Mr. M'Clutchy, my dear 
 child?" 
 
 " There's a fig for him," he replied — " there's a 
 fig for him. Now !" 
 
 " But you didn't bless him, my darlin' — you 
 didn't bless him yet." 
 
 As she spoke the words, her eye caught his, and 
 she perceived that it began to gleam and kindle. 
 
 " Well no," said she hastily ; "no, I won't ask 
 you ; only hould your tongue — say no more." 
 
 She again patted his cheek tenderly, and the fiery 
 light which began to burn in his eye, died gradually 
 away, and no other expression remained in it, but 
 the habitual one of innocence and good-nature. 
 
 *' No, no," said she, shaking her head, and speak- 
 ing as much to herself as to Darby ; '' I know him 
 too well ; no earthly power will put him out of his 
 own way, once he takes it into his head. This 
 minute, if I had spoke another word about the 
 blessin', M'Clutchy would a got another curse ; yet, 
 except in these fits, my poor child is kindness and 
 tendherness itself." 
 
 " Well now," said Darby, " that that's over, can
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 77 
 
 you tell me, Poll, what's the news ? When were 
 you in Dublin ?" 
 
 " I've given that up," rephed Poll ; " I'm too ould 
 and stiff for it now. As for the news, you ought to 
 know what's goin' as well as I do. You're nearly 
 as much on the foot." 
 
 " No ; nor if every head in the parish was 'ithin 
 side o' mine, I wouldn't know as much in the news 
 line as you. Poll." 
 
 " The news that's goin' of late, Darby, is not 
 good, an' you know it. There's great grumbUn' an' 
 great complaints, ever since Val, the lad, became 
 undher agent ; and you know that too." 
 
 "But how can I prevent that?" said Darby; 
 " sure I'd side wid the people if I could." 
 
 '' You'd side wid the people, an' you'd side wid 
 the man that oppresses them, even in spite of Mr. 
 Hickman." 
 
 " God bless Mr. Hickman !" said Raymond, " and 
 the divil curse him ! and sure 'tis well known that the 
 divil's curse is only another name for God's blessin'. 
 God bless, Mr. Hickman !" 
 
 " Amen, my darlin' child, wid all my heart," said 
 Poll ; " but, Darby," she continued, " take my word 
 for it, that these things won't end well. The estate
 
 78 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 and neiglibourhood was peaceable and quiet till the 
 Vulture began his pranks, and now— — " 
 
 " Very well," said Darby, " the blame be his, an' 
 if it comes to that, the punishment ; so far as my- 
 self 's consarned, I say, let every herrin' hang by its 
 own tail — / must do my duty. But tell me. Poll — 
 hut, woman, never mind the Vulture — let him go to 
 the devil his own way — tell me — do you ever hear 
 from your son Frank, that Brian M'Loughlin sent 
 acrass ?" 
 
 '' No," said she, " not a word ; but the curse o' 
 heaven on Brian M'Loughlin ! Was my fine young 
 man worth no more than his garran of a horse, that 
 he didn't steal either, till he was put to it by the 
 Finigans." 
 
 " Well, sure two o' them were sent over soon afther 
 him, if that's any comfort." 
 
 " It's no comfort," replied Poll, "but I'll tell you 
 what's a comfort, the thought that I'll never die till I 
 have full revinge on Brian M'Loughlin — ay, either on 
 him or his — or both. Come, Raymond, have you ne'er 
 a spare curse now for Brian M'Loughlin? — you could 
 give a fat one to M'Clutchy this minute — an have 
 you none for Brian M'Loughlin ?" 
 
 "No," replied the son, "he does'ntbeharryinthe 
 poor."
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 79 
 
 "Well, but he transported your brother." 
 
 " No matter ; Frank used to beat me — he was bad, 
 an Brian M'Loughlin was good to me, an does be 
 good to me ; he gives me my dinner or breakfast 
 whenever I go there — an a good bed in the barn, 
 I won't curse him. Now !" 
 
 " It's no use," continued Poll, whose thin features 
 had not yet subsided from the inflammatory wildness 
 of expression which had been awakened by the curse, 
 " it's no use, he'll only do what he Hkes himself, an' 
 the best way is to never heed him." 
 
 " I believe so," said Darby, *' but where's your 
 daughter Lucy now. Poll?" 
 
 " Why," said Poll, " she has taken to my trade, 
 an' thravels up to the Foundhng ; although, dear 
 knows, it's hardly worth her while now — it won't 
 give her salt to her kale, poor girl." 
 
 *' Why, are the times mendin' ?" asked Darby, 
 who spoke in a moral point of view. 
 
 " Mendin' !" exclaimed Poll, " oh, ay indeed — 
 Throth they're not fit to be named in the one day 
 with what they used to be. But indeed, of late I'm 
 happy to say that they are improvin' a bit," said she, 
 speaking professionally. " MClutchy's givin' them 
 a lift, for Pve ever an' always remarked, that dis- 
 tress, and poverty, and neglect o' the poor, and
 
 80 VALENTINE M'CLUTCFIY, 
 
 hardship, and persecution, an' oppression, and any 
 thing that way, was sure to have my very heart 
 broke wid business." 
 
 " And tell me, Poll, did you ever happen to get 
 a job from a sartin pious gintleman, o' the name of 
 M'Slime ?— now tell the thruth." 
 
 " It's a question" replied Poll, " you have no right 
 to axe — you must know, Darby O'Drive, that I've 
 had my private business as well as my pubhc busi- 
 ness, an' that I'd suffer that right hand to be cut off 
 sooner than betray trust. Honour bright, or what's 
 the world good for !" 
 
 They now reached a spot where the road branched 
 into two, but Poll still kept to that which led to 
 M'Clutchy's. '' Are you for the Cottage too," 
 asked Darby. 
 
 " I am," replied Poll, " I've been sent for ; but 
 what he wants wid me, I know no more than the 
 man in the moon." 
 
 Just then the tramp of a horse's feet was heard 
 behind them, and in a minute or two, Solomon 
 M' Slime, who was also on his way to the Cottage, 
 rode up to them. 
 
 " A kind good morning to you. Darby, my friend! 
 I trust you did not neglect to avail yourself of the — 
 Ah !" said he complacently, on catching a glimpse
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 81 
 
 of Poll's face, '* I think I ought to recollect your 
 features, my good woman — but, no — I can't say I 
 do — No, I must mistake them for those of another 
 — but, indeed, the best of us is Uable to mistake and 
 eiTor — all frail — flesh is grass." 
 
 " You might often see my face," returned Poll, 
 *' but I don't think ever we spoke before. I know 
 you to look at you. Sir, that's all — an' it's thrue 
 what you say too, Sir, there's nothing but frailty in 
 the world — divil a much else — homsomever, be that 
 as it may, honour bright's my motive." 
 
 " And a good motto it is, my excellent woman — 
 is that interesting young man your son ?" 
 
 " He is. Sir ; but he's a poor innocent that hasn't 
 the full complement of wit. Sir, God help him !" 
 
 " Well, my good woman," continued Solomon, 
 " as he appears to be without shoes to his feet, will 
 you accept of five shillings, which is all the silver I 
 have about me, to buy him a pair." 
 
 "Many thanks, Mr. M'Sl-hem — many thanks, 
 Sir ; honour bright's my motive." 
 
 " And let it always be so, my excellent woman ; 
 a good morning to you very kindly ! Darby, I bid 
 you also good morning, and peace be with you 
 both." 
 
 VOL. 1. G
 
 82 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 So saying, he rode on at a quiet, easy amble, 
 apparently at peace with his heart, his conscience, 
 his sleek cob, and all the world besides. 
 
 The sessions of Castle Cumber having concluded 
 as sessions usually conclude, we beg our reader to 
 accompany us to Deaker Hall, the residence of 
 M'Clutchy's father, the squire. This man was far 
 advanced in years, but appeared to have been pos- 
 sessed of a constitution which sustains sensuality, or 
 perhaps that retrospective spirit which gloats over 
 its polluted recollections, on to the very verge of the 
 grave. In the case before us old age sharpened the 
 inclination to vice in proportion as it diminished the 
 power of being vicious, and presented an instance of 
 a man, at the close of a long life, watching over the 
 grave of a corrupted heart, with a hope of meeting 
 the wan spectres of his own departed passions, since 
 he could not meet the passions themselves ; and he 
 met them, for they could not rest, but returned to 
 their former habitation, like unclean spirits as they 
 were, each bringing seven more along with it, but 
 not to torment him. Such were the beings with 
 which the soul of this aged materialist was crowded. 
 During life his well known motto was, " let us eat, 
 drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die." Upon
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 83 
 
 this principle, expanded into still wider depravity, 
 did he live and act during a protracted existence, 
 and to those who knew him, and well known he was, 
 there appeared sometliing frightfully revolting in 
 the shameless career of this impenitent old infidel. 
 
 Deaker was a large man, with a rainhow protube- 
 rance before, whose chin, at the time we speak of, rested 
 upon his breast, giving to him the exact character 
 which he bore — that of a man who to the last was 
 studious of every sensual opportunity. His grey, 
 goatish eye, was vigilant and circumspect, and his 
 under lip protruded in a manner, which, joined to 
 the character of his age, left no one at a loss for the 
 general subject matter of his thoughts. He always 
 wore top-boots, and generally went on horseback, 
 having that part of his hat which rested on the collar 
 of his coat, turned up and greasy. 
 
 Squire Deaker's language was not more moral than 
 his life — for he not only enforced his principles by 
 his example, but also by his precept. His conver- 
 sation consequently resolved itself into a mingled 
 stream of swearing and obscenity. Ridicule of reh- 
 gion, and a hardened triumph in his own iniquitous 
 exploits, illustrated and confirmed by a prodigality 
 of blasphemous asseverations, constituted the staple 
 of his thoughts and expressions. According to his
 
 84 VALENTINE M^CLUTCHY, 
 
 own principles he could not look forward to another 
 life, and consequently all that remained for him was 
 to look back upon an unbroken hne of seduction and 
 proflicacj — upon wealth and influence not merely 
 abused, but prostituted to the lowest and grossest 
 purposes of our worst passions — upon systematic 
 crime — unmanly treachery — and that dishonest ava- 
 rice which constituted the act of heartless desertion 
 in himself the ultimate ruin and degradation of his 
 victims. Such was this well known squire of the 
 old school, whose portrait, taken from life, will be 
 recognized by every one who ever knew him, should 
 any such happen to peruse those pages. 
 
 At the period of which we write Squire Deaker 
 was near eighty, and although feeble and broken 
 down, he still exhibited the remains of a large, coarse, 
 strong boned animal, not without a vigorous twinkle 
 of low cunning in his eye, and a duplicity of charac- 
 ter and principle about his angular and ill-shaped 
 eye brows which could not be mistaken. He was 
 confined to his bed, and for the first time, during 
 many years, was unable to attend the Castle Cumber 
 quarter sessions. 
 
 It was the second or third day after their close 
 that about the hour of ten o'clock, a.m., he awoke 
 from a heavy and unhealthy doze, wliich could
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 85 
 
 scarcely be termed sleep, but rather a kind of middle 
 state between that and wakino^. At length he raised 
 his head, gasped, and on finding no one in the room 
 lie let fly a volley of execrations, and rang the bell. 
 
 " Is there any one there ? Any one within hear- 
 ing ? I say Isabel, Isabel, Jesabel, are you all dead 
 and d d ?" 
 
 " No, your honour, not yet — some of us at least," 
 replied a shrewd looking lad of about eighteen, 
 making his appearance. 
 
 " Ha, Lanty — it's you, is it ? What do you mean 
 by that, you devil's pick-tooth ? WTiere's Isabel ? 
 Where's Jezabel ? Playing her pranks, I suppose — 
 where is she, you devil's tooth-brush ? eh ?" 
 
 '* Do you want your brandy and wather, Sir ?" 
 
 " Brandy and h — l,^you scoundrel ! Wliere's Miss 
 Fuzzle ?" 
 
 " Why, she's just rinsing her mouth. Sir, wid a 
 drop of" — 
 
 " Of what, you devil's imp ; but I know — she's 
 drinking — she's drunk, you young candidate for 
 perdition ?" 
 
 " I'm not an ould one. Sir, any how ; as to Miss 
 Fuzzle, Sir, she bid me say, that she's doin herself 
 the pleasure of drinkin your health" — 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! Oh, if I were near her — that's all !
 
 86 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 drinking my health ! She's tipsy, the she scoundrel, 
 she never sends me that message, unless when she's 
 tipsy"— 
 
 " Not tipsy, your honour, only unwell — she's a 
 little touched wid the faUing sickness — she always 
 takes it, after rinsing her mouth, Sir ; for she's fond 
 of a sweet breath, your honour." 
 
 " Ah, she's a confounded blackguard — a living 
 quicksand, and nothmg else. Lanty, my lad, if the 
 Mississippi was brandy grog, she'd dry the river — 
 drinking at this hour ! — well, never mind, I was drunk 
 myself last night, and I'm half drunk yet. Here, you 
 devil's tinder box, mix me a glass of brandy and 
 water." 
 
 " Wouldn't you do it better yourself, Sir* ?" 
 
 " No, you whelp, don't you see how my hands, 
 and be hanged to them, tremble and shake. Put 
 in another glass, I say — carry it to my mouth now ; 
 hold, you croil — here's the glorious, pious, and im- 
 mortal memory ! Ho ! Lanty, there's nothing like 
 being a good Protestant, after all — so I'll stand to 
 glorious Bill, to the last ; nine times nine, and one 
 cheer more ! hurra !" 
 
 He then laid himself back, and attempted to 
 whistle the Boyne Water, but having only one tusk 
 in front, the sound produced resembled the wild
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 87 
 
 whistle of the wind through the chink of a door — 
 shrill and monotonous ; after which he burst out 
 into a chuckhng laugh, tickled, probably, at the 
 notion of that celebrated melody proving disloyal in 
 spite of him, and refusing, as it were, to be wliistled. 
 At this moment Miss Isabel, or as he most fre- 
 quently called her Miss Jesabel Fuzzle, came in with 
 a gleamiug eye, and an unsteady step — her hair 
 partially dishevelled, and her dress most negUgently 
 put on. The moment Deaker saw her, his whole 
 manner changed, notwithstanding his previous vio- 
 lence — the swagger departed from him, his coun- 
 tenance fell, and he lay mute and terror stricken 
 before her. It was indeed clear that her sway over 
 him was boundless, and such was the fact. On tliis 
 occasion she simply looked at him significantly, held 
 up her hand in a menacing attitude, and having 
 made a mock curtsey, immediately left the room. 
 
 " Lanty," said he in an undertone, when she had 
 gone, " Lanty, you clip, go and tell her to forgive 
 me ; I said too much, and I'm sorry for it, say — go, 
 you scoundrel." 
 
 " Faix I'll do no such thing, Sir," repHed Lanty, 
 alarmed at the nature of the message ; " I know 
 better than to come across her novj ; she'd whale the 
 life out o' me. Sure she's afthcr flaihng the cook
 
 88 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 out o' the kitchen — and Tom Corbet the butler has 
 one of his ears, he says, hangin off him as long as a 
 blood-hound's." 
 
 " Speak easy," said Deaker, in a voice of terror, 
 "speak lower, or she may hear you — Isn't it strange," 
 he said to himself, "that I who never feared God 
 or man, should quail before this Jesabel !" 
 
 " Begad, an' here's one your honour, that 'ill 
 make her quail, if he meets her. 
 
 " Who is it," asked the other eagerly, " who is it, 
 you imp ?" 
 
 " Why, Mr. M'Clutchy, Sir ; he's ridin' up the 
 avenue." 
 
 " Ay, Val the Vulture— Val the Vulture— I like 
 that fellow — I like him for his confoundedly clever 
 roguery ; only he's a hypocrite, and doesn't set the 
 world at defiance as I do ; — no, he's a cowardly 
 skulking hypocrite, nearly as great a one as M' Slime, 
 but doesn't talk so much about religion as that oily 
 gentleman." 
 
 In a few moments M'Clutchy entered. 
 
 " Good morrow, Val. Well, Val — well, my vul- 
 ture, what's in the wind now ? Who's to suffer ? 
 Are you ready for a pounce ? Eh ?" 
 
 " I was sorry to hear that your health's not so 
 good, Sir, as it was." 
 
 " You lie, my dear Vulture, you he in your
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 89 
 
 throat, I tell you. You're watching for my car- 
 case, snuffing the air at a distance under the hope of 
 a gorge. No — you didn't care the devil had me, 
 provided you could make a hawl by it." 
 
 " I hope, Sir, there's no " 
 
 " Hope! You rascally hypocrite, what's hope good 
 for ? Hope to rot in the grave is it ? To melt into 
 corruption and feed the worms ? \\Tiat a precious 
 putrid carcase I'll make, when I'm a month in the 
 dirt. Maybe you wouldn't much relish the scent of 
 me then, my worthy Vulture. Curse your beak, at 
 all events! what do you want? what did you 
 come for ?" 
 
 Val, who knew his worthy sire well, knew also 
 the most successful method of working out any pur- 
 pose with him. He accordingly rephed, conscious 
 that hypocrisy was out of the question — 
 
 " The fact is, Sir, I want you to aid me in a piece 
 of knavery." 
 
 " I'll do it— I'll do it. Hang me if I don't. 
 Come — I like that — it shows that there's no mock 
 modesty between us — that we know one another. 
 What's the knavery ?" 
 
 " Why, Sir, I'm anxious, in the first place, to 
 have Hickman, the head agent, out, and in the next, 
 to get into his place, if possible. Now, I know that 
 you can assist me in both, if you wish."
 
 90 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 " How ?" asked Deaker, who was quite as able a 
 tactitian as his son ; and wlio, in fact, had contrived 
 to put himself so completely in possession of the po- 
 litical influence of the county as to be able to return 
 any one he wished. " How is it to be done ? Tell 
 me that?" 
 
 " I have understood from George Gamble, Lord 
 Cumber's own man, that he wants money." 
 
 '' Tut," rephed Deaker, who now forgot a great 
 deal of his swearing, and applied himself to the sub- 
 ject, with all the coolness and ability of a thorough 
 man of business. " Tut, Val, is that your news ? 
 When was he ever otherwise ? Come to the point ; 
 the thing's desirable — but how can it be done ?" 
 
 " I think it can ; but it must be by very nice 
 handling indeed." 
 
 " Well — your nice handhng then ?" 
 
 "The truth is, that Hickman, I suspect, is almost 
 sick of the agency — thanks to Lord Cumber's extra- 
 vagance, and an occasional bit of blister which I, 
 through the tenantry, lay on him at home. Cumber, 
 you know, is an unsteady scoundrel, and in the 
 ordinary transactions of hfe, has no fixed principle ; 
 for he is possessed of little honour, and I am afraid 
 not much honesty." 
 
 " Oh murder ! this from Val the Vulture ! Let me 
 
 I
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 91 
 
 look at you ! Did M' Slime bite you '? or have you 
 turned Methodist ? Holy Jupiter, what a sermon ! 
 Curse your beak, Sir ; go on, and no preaching." 
 
 " Not much honesty, as I said. Now, Sir, if you 
 who have liim doubly in your power — first by the 
 mortgage ; and, secondly, as his political godfather, 
 who can either put him in, or keep him out of the 
 county — if you were to write him a friendly, confi- 
 dential letter, in which, observe, you are about to 
 finally arrange your affairs ; and you are sorry — quite 
 sorry — but the truth is, something must be done about 
 the mortgage — you are very sorry — mark — but you 
 are old, and cannot leave your property in an un- 
 settled state. Just touch that part of it so " 
 
 " Yes — touch and go." 
 
 " Exactly — touch and go. Well, you pass then 
 to the political portion of it. Hickman's political 
 opinions are not well known, or at least doubtful. 
 Indeed you have reason to believe that he will not 
 support liis lordship or his family — is not in the con- 
 fidence of government — displeased at the Union — 
 and grumbles about corruption. His lordsliip is 
 abroad, you know, and cannot think for himself 
 You speak as his friend — his tried friend — he ought 
 to have a man on his property who is staunch, can be 
 depended on, and who will see that full justice is
 
 92 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 done him in his absence. Hickman, too, is against 
 Ascendancy principles. Do you see, Sir ?" 
 
 " Proceed — what next ?" 
 
 " Why, we stop there for the present ; nothing 
 more can be done until we hear from the scoundrel 
 himself." 
 
 " And what do you imagine will be the upshot ?" 
 
 " Why, I think it not at all unlikely that he will 
 place himself and his interests, pecuniary and poli- 
 tical, altogether in your hands, and consequently 
 you will probably have the guiding of him." 
 
 " Well, Val, you are an able knave to be sure ; 
 but never mind ; I like you all the better. The true 
 doctrine is always — eat, drink, and he merry, for 
 to-morrow you die — take as much out of life, and 
 your fellow men as you can. There's no knavery 
 in the grave, my Vulture. There the honest man 
 and the knave are alike ; and this being the case, 
 what the devil is pubhc opinion worth?" 
 
 " It's worth a great deal if we use it for our own 
 purposes while we're here ; otherwise I agree with 
 you that it's valueless in itself." 
 
 " You're a cursed clever fellow, Val, an able knave, 
 as 1 said — but I don't like your son ; he's a dishonest 
 blockhead, and I needn't tell you that the man who
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 93 
 
 lias not brains enough to be dishonest is a most con- 
 temptible scoundrel." 
 
 " Are you not able to get up?" asked Val, 
 in a very dutiful and affectionate voice. 
 
 " Able enough now, but my head swam a while ago 
 at a duced rate. I was drunk, as usual, last night, 
 and could do notliing, not even put a tumbler to my 
 mouth, until I took a stiff glass of brandy and water, 
 and that has set me up again. When shall I write 
 to young Topertoe, the Cumber blade ?" 
 
 " The sooner the better, now ; but I think you 
 ought to rise and take some exercise." 
 
 " So I shall immediately, and to-morrow I write 
 then, according to your able instructions, most 
 subtle and sagacious Val. Are you off?" 
 
 " Yes, good bye, Sir, and many thanks." 
 
 " None of your stuff I say, but be off out of this — " 
 and as he spoke Val disappeared. 
 
 So far the first steps for ousting Mr. Hickman 
 were taken by this precious father, and his equally 
 valuable son. Val, however, entertained other spe- 
 culations quite as ingenious, and far more mahgnant 
 in their tendency. Hickman, of course, he might 
 by undercurrents and maneuvering succeed in eject- 
 ing from the agency ; but he could not absolutely
 
 94 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 ruin him. Nothing short of tliis, however, did he 
 propose to himself, so far as M'Loughhn, and we may- 
 add, every one connected with him, was concerned ; 
 for M'Clutchy possessed that kind of economy in his 
 moral feelings, that always prompted him to gratify 
 his interest and his malice by the same act of virtue. 
 How he succeeded in this benevolent resolution time 
 and the progress of this truthful history will show.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF A SUMMER EVENING A MYSTERIOUS 
 
 MEETING A JEALOUS VISION LETTER FROM SQUIRE 
 
 DEAKER TO LORD CUMBER LORD CUMBER's REPLY. 
 
 The season was now about the close of May, that 
 
 dehghtful month which presents the heart and all 
 
 our purer sensations with a twofold enjoyment ; for 
 
 in that sweet period have we not all the tenderness 
 
 and dehcacy of spring, combined with the fuller and 
 
 more expanded charms of the leafy summer — hke 
 
 that portion of female hfe, in which the eye feels it 
 
 difficult to determine whether the delicate beauty of 
 
 the blushing girl, or the riper loveliness of the full 
 
 grown maid, predominates in the person. The time 
 
 was evening, about half an hour before that soft 
 
 repose of twilight, in which may be perceived the 
 
 subsiding stir of busy life as it murmurs itself into 
 
 slumber, after the active pursuits of day. On a 
 
 green upland lawn, that was a sheep walk, some 
 
 portions of which were studded over with the
 
 96 VALENTINE M^CLUTCHY, 
 
 blooming and fragrant furze, stood an old ecclesias- 
 tical ruin, grey from time, and breathing with that 
 spirit of vague but dreamy reverie, which it caught 
 from the lovehness of the season, the calmness and 
 the golden light of the hour, accessories, that, by their 
 influence, gave a solemn beauty to its very desolation. 
 It reminded one somewhat of the light which coming 
 death throws upon the cheek of youth when he 
 treacherously treads in the soft and noiseless steps 
 of decline — or rather of that still purer light, which, 
 when the aged Christian arrives at the close of a 
 well spent Hfe, accompanied by peace, and hope, and 
 calmness, falls like a glory on his bed of death. 
 The ruin was but small, a remnant of one of those 
 humble, but rude temples, in which God was wor- 
 shipped in simplicity and peace, far from the noisy 
 tumults and sanguinary conflicts of ambitious man. 
 
 Through this sweet upland, and close to the ruin, 
 ran a footpath that led to a mountain village of con- 
 siderable extent. Immediately behind the ruin stood 
 a few large hawthorn trees, now white with blossoms, 
 whose fragrance made the very air a luxury, and 
 from whose branches came forth those gushes of 
 evening melody that shed tenderness and tranquiUity 
 into the troubled heart. 
 
 The country in the distance lay charmed, as it
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 97 
 
 were, by the calm spirit of peace which seemed to 
 have diffused itself over the whole landscape — 
 western windows were turned into fire — the motion- 
 less lakes shone like mirrors wherever they caught 
 the beams of the evening light, as did several bends 
 of the broad river wliich barely moved witliin its 
 winding banks through the meadows below. The 
 sun at length became half concealed beliind the 
 summit of the western hills, so that his rich and 
 gorgeous beams fell only upon the surrounding 
 uplands, now lit into purple, leaving the valhes 
 and lower parts of the country to repose in that 
 beautiful shadow which can be looked upon from the 
 higher parts, only through the crimson glory of 
 the departing hght. And now the sun has dis- 
 appeared — is gone — but still how beautiful is the 
 fading splendour that sleeps for a httle on the moun- 
 tain tops, then becomes dimmer and dimmer — then 
 a faint streak which gradually melts away until it is 
 finally lost in the soft shadows of that thoughtful 
 hour. And even thus passeth away all human 
 glory! 
 
 The ruin which we have mentioned stood about 
 half way between the residence of Brian M'Loughlin 
 and the mountain village to which we have alluded. 
 Proceeding homewards from the latter place, having 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 performed an errand of mercy and charity, was a 
 very beautiful girl, exquisitely formed, but somewhat 
 below the middle size. She was Brian M'Loughlin's 
 only daughter — a creature that breathed of goodness, 
 grace, and all those delightful qualities that make 
 woman a ministering angel amidst the cares, and 
 miseries, and sorrows of hfe. Her figure, symmetry 
 itself, was so hght, and graceful, and elegant, that a 
 new charm was displayed by every motion, as a new 
 beauty was discovered by every change of her ex- 
 pressive countenance ; her hair was hke the raven's 
 wing, and her black eye, instead of being sharp and 
 piercing, was more in accordance with the benignity 
 of her character, soft, sweet, and mellow. Her bust 
 and arm were perfection, and the small white hand 
 and taper fingers would have told a connoisseur or 
 sculptor that her foot, in lightness and elegance of 
 formation, might have excited the envy of Iris or 
 Camilla, 
 
 Having reached the ruin, she was rather surprised 
 to see the figure of a thin woman dressed in black 
 issue out of it, and approach her with somewhat of 
 caution in her manner. Mary M'Loughlin, was 
 a girl of strong mind and firm character, and not 
 likely to feel alarmed by any groundless cause of 
 apprehension. She immediately recognized the
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 99 
 
 woman, who was no other than our old friend Poll 
 Doolin, and in the phrases pecuHar to the country, 
 made the usual kind inquiry after her health and 
 welfare. 
 
 " It's a very unusual thing Poll," she proceeded, 
 *' to see you in this part of the neighbourhood !" 
 
 ''It is," returned Poll, "I wasn't so near the 
 mountains this many a day ; an' I wouldn't be here 
 now, only on your account, Miss M*Loughlin." 
 
 Now, Mary was by no means ignorant of the 
 enmity which this woman entertained against her 
 father and family, in consequence of having prose- 
 cuted and transported her profligate son. Without 
 the shghtest apprehension on that account, she felt, 
 however, a good deal puzzled as to the meaning 
 which could be attached to Poll's words. 
 
 *' How, on my account, Poll ? I don't understand 
 you." 
 
 " Neither you nor yours desarve it at my hands ; 
 but for all that, I'm here to do you a good turn." 
 
 ** I hope I never deserved any evil at your hands, 
 Poll." 
 
 " No, but you're your father's daughter for all 
 that, an' it's not usual to hate the tree, and spare 
 the branches." 
 
 •' I suppose you allude to the transportation of
 
 100 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 your son ; but remember, Poll, that I was only a 
 child then ; and don't forget that had your son been 
 honest, he might still be a comfort and a credit to 
 you, instead of a shame and a sorrow. I don't 
 mean, nor do I wish to hurt your feelings. Poll ; but 
 I am anxious that you should not indulge in such 
 bitterness of heart against my father, who only did 
 what he could not avoid." 
 
 *' Well," said Poll, " never mind that— although 
 it isn't aisy for a mother to forget her child wid all 
 his faults ; I am here, as I said, on your account 
 — I am here, to tell you, that there's danger 
 about you and before you, and to put you on your 
 guard against it. I am here, Miss Mary M'- 
 Loughlin, and if I'm not your friend — and I'm 
 not say in' that I am not — still I'm the friend of one 
 that is your friend, and that will protect you, if 
 he can." 
 
 " That is very strange, Poll, for I know not how 
 I can have an enemy. What danger could a simple 
 inoffensive girl hke me feel? I who have never 
 knowingly offended any body," 
 
 " I have said the truth," repHed Poll, '' and did 
 my duty — you're now warned, so be on your guard 
 and take care of yourself." 
 
 " But how, Poll ? You mention danger, yet have
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 101 
 
 not told me what it is, where it's to come from, nor 
 how I am to guard myself against it." 
 
 '' I'm not at hberty," said Poll, " but this I can 
 tell you, it's threatening you, and it comes from a 
 quarther where you'd never look for it." 
 
 Mary, who was neither timid nor surprised, 
 smiled with the confidence of innocence, and replied 
 after a short pause of thought — 
 
 " Well, Poll, I have been thinking over my friends, 
 and cannot find one that is hkely to be my enemy ; 
 at all events I am deeply obhged to you ; still if you 
 could mention what the danger is, I would certainly 
 feel the obligation to be greater. As it is, I thank 
 you again. Good evening !" 
 
 " Stay, Miss Mary," rephed Poll, walking eagerly 
 a step or two after her, stay a minute ; I have 
 run a risk in doin' this — only promise me, to 
 keep what I said to you a saicret for a while — as well 
 as that you ever had any private talk wid me. 
 Promise this. 
 
 " I shall certainly not promise any such thing, 
 Poll ; so far from that, I will mention every word 
 of our conversation to my father and family, the 
 moment I reach home. If, as you say, there is 
 danger before or around me, there are none whose 
 protection I should so naturally seek."
 
 102 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 " But this," said Poll, with an appearance of deep 
 anxiety, " this is a matther of mere indifference to 
 you : it's to me the danger is, if you spake of it — to 
 me, I say — not to you." 
 
 " But I can have no secrets from my family." 
 
 " Well, but is it ginerous in you to put me — ay, 
 my very life in danger — when all you have to do is 
 merely to say nothing ? However, since I must 
 speak out — you'll put more than me in danger — them 
 that you love betther, an' that you'd never carry a 
 light heart, if any thing happened them.'* 
 
 Mary started — and a hght seemed suddenly to 
 break upon her. 
 
 " How," said she, " my engagement to Francis 
 Harman is no secret ; our marriage at no distant day 
 being sanctioned by both our famihes. Is he in- 
 volved in danger connected with your hints ?" 
 
 " Deep and deadly, both to him and me. You 
 don't know it, Miss Mary. If you love him, as 
 you do — as is well known you do — if you would 
 keep him and my poor worthless self out of danger, 
 may be out of bloodshed — don't mention a syllable of 
 this meetin* to any one ; but of all persons livin' to 
 himself, untill I give you lave, untill I can tell you 
 it will be safe to do so. See, I kneel down with
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 103 
 
 hands clasped, I beg it of you for his sake and 
 safety !" 
 
 It was pretty well known through the whole 
 parish, especially by the initiated, that this same 
 Poll Doohn, had in truth most of its secrets in her 
 keeping ; and that she had frequently conducted 
 with success those rustic intrigues which are to be 
 found in humble, as well as in high life. The 
 former part of Poll's charater, however, was all 
 that had ever reached the youthful ears of poor 
 innocent Mary, whilst of her address as a diplo- 
 matist in the plots and pursuits of love, she was 
 utterly ignorant. Naturally unsuspicious, as we 
 have already said, she looked upon the woman's 
 knowing character, rather as a circumstance calcu- 
 lated to corroborate the truth of the mystery which 
 she must have discovered ; and was so much moved 
 by the unquestionable sincerity of her manner, and 
 the -safety of her own lover, that she assured her 
 she would keep the secret, until permitted to divulge 
 it ; which she begged might be at as early a period 
 as possible. Poll thanked her eagerly and gratefully, 
 and in a few minutes, having made a circuit behind 
 the ruin, sought the lower and richer country by a 
 different path. 
 
 Mary unconsciously stood for some time after
 
 104 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 Poll had left her, meditating over the strange and 
 almost unaccountable scene which had just taken 
 place, when a rich voice with which she was well 
 acquainted addressed her. She started, and on 
 turning about, found Francis Harman before her. 
 Twihght had now nearly passed away, and the dusk 
 of evening was deepening into the darkness of a 
 summer night. 
 
 " What on earth are you thinking of alone in 
 this place, my dear Mary, and who was that 
 woman who just left you ?'* 
 
 Mary though firm of character, was also tender 
 and warm of heart, and felt deeply for those 
 she loved. The interview with Poll, therefore had 
 excited apprehensions concerning Harman's safety, 
 which disturbed her far more than any she felt 
 for herself. He gave her his right arm as she spoke, 
 and they went on towards her father's house. 
 
 " Good God," he exclaimed, before she had time 
 to answer him, ''what has disturbed or alarmed 
 you, my sweet Mary ? I feel your heart beating 
 against my arm, in a most extraordinary manner. 
 How is this?" 
 
 The consciousness of the injunction so solemnly 
 and recently imposed, distressed her exceedingly. 
 Her love of truth, was like her love of life or of
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 105 
 
 heaven, a sacred and instinctive principle which she 
 must now not only violate, but be forced to run into 
 the hateful practice of dissimulation. All this passed 
 through her mind, in a moment. 
 
 " My dear Francis, I will freely admit that the 
 beatings of my heart are not altogether without 
 cause ; I have been somewhat disturbed, but it will 
 not signify ; I shall be quite well in a moment — but 
 where did you come from ?" 
 
 " They told me you had gone up to poor Widow 
 Carrick's — and I took the short way, thinking to 
 find you there. But what has disturbed you, my 
 dear Mary ? Something has, and greatly too." 
 
 She looked up with an affectionate smile into his 
 face, although there trembled a tear upon her eye- 
 Uds, as she spoke — 
 
 " Do not ask me, my dear Frank ; nor don't think 
 the circumstance of much importance. It is a little 
 secret of mine, which I cannot for the present 
 disclose." 
 
 " Well, my love, I only ask to know if the woman 
 that left you was Poll Doolin." 
 
 " I cannot answer even that, Frank ; but such as 
 the secret is, I trust you shall soon know it." 
 
 " That is enough, my darling. I am satisfied that 
 you would conceal nothing from cither your family
 
 106 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 or me, which might be detrimental either to yourself 
 or us — or which we oujrht to know." 
 
 " That is true," said she, '' I feel that it is true." 
 
 " But then on the other hand," said he, play- 
 fully, " suppose our little darhng were in possession 
 of a secret which we ought not to know — what cha- 
 racter should we bestow on the secret *?" 
 
 This, though said in love and jest, distressed her 
 so much that she was forced to tell him so — "my 
 dear Francis," she replied, with as much composure 
 as she could assume, " do not press me on this sub- 
 ject; — I cannot speak upon it now, and I consequently 
 must throw myself on your love and generosity only 
 for a short time, I hope." 
 
 " Not a syllable, my darling, on the subject until 
 you resume it yourself — how are widow Carrick's 
 sick children ?" 
 
 " Somewhat better," she replied, " the two eldest 
 are recovering, and want nourishment, which, witli 
 the exception of my poor contributions, they cannot 
 get." 
 
 " God love and guard your kind and charitable 
 heart, my sweet Mary," said he, looking down 
 tenderly into her beautiful face, and pressing her 
 arm lovingly against his side. 
 
 " What a hard hearted man that under agent,
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 107 
 
 M'Clutchy, is," she exclaimed, her beautiful eye 
 brightening with indignation — " do you know that 
 while her childi'en were ill, his baiHff, Darby O 'Drive, 
 by his orders or authority, or some claim or other, 
 took away her goose and the only half dozen of eggs 
 she had for them — indeed, Frank, he's a sad curse to 
 the property." 
 
 " He is what an old Vandal was once called for 
 his cruelty and oppression — the Scourge of God," 
 replied Harman, " such certainly the unhappy 
 tenantry of the Topertoe family find him. Harsh 
 and heartless as he is, however, what would he be 
 were it not for the vigilance and humanity of Mr. 
 Hickman ? But are you aware, Mary, that his 
 graceful son, Phil, was a suitor of yours ?" 
 
 " Of mine — ha, ha, ha ! — oh, that's too comical, 
 Frank — but I am not — Had I really ever that 
 honour ?" 
 
 " Most certainly ; his amiable father had the mo- 
 desty to propose a matrimonial union between your 
 family and his !" 
 
 '' I never heard of it," rephed Mary, " never ; — 
 but that is easily accounted for — my father, I know, 
 would not insult me by the very mention of it." 
 
 " It's a fact though, that the illegitimate son of the 
 blasphemous old squire, and of the virtuous and
 
 108 VALENTINE M*CLUTCHY, 
 
 celebrated Kate Clank, hoped to have united the 
 M'Loughhn blood with his I" 
 
 " Hush !" exclaimed Mary, shuddering, '' the very 
 thought is sickening, revolting." 
 
 " It's not a pleasant subject, certainly," said 
 Harman, *' and the less that is said about it the 
 more disgust we shall avoid, at any rate." 
 
 Her lover having safely conducted Mary home, 
 remained with her family only a few minutes, as the 
 evening was advanced, and he had still to go as far 
 as Castle Cumber, upon business connected with the 
 manufactory, which M'Loughlin and his father had 
 placed wholly under his superintendence. 
 
 Upon what shght circumstances does the happiness 
 of individuals, nay, even of states and kingdoms, too 
 frequently depend ! Harman most assuredly was 
 incapable of altogether dismissing the circumstances 
 of the evening — involved in mystery as they un- 
 questionably were — out of his mind; not that he 
 entertained the shghtest possible suspicion of 
 Mary's prudence or affection ; but he felt a kind of 
 surprize at the novelty of the position in which he 
 saw she was placed, and no little pain in consequence 
 of the disagreeable necessity for silence which she 
 admitted had been imposed on her. His confidence 
 in her, however, was boundless ; and from this perfect
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 109 
 
 reliance on her discretion and truth, he derived an 
 assurance that she was acting with strict propriety 
 under the circumstances, whatever might be their 
 character or tendency. 
 
 It may be necessary to mention here that a right 
 of passage ran from Beleeven, the name of the village 
 in which M'Loughlan resided, to the Castle Cumber 
 high road, which it joined a little beyond Constitu- 
 tion Cottage, passing immediately through an angle 
 of the clump of beeches already mentioned as growing 
 behind the house. By this path, which shortened 
 the way very much, Harman, and indeed every 
 pedestrian acquainted with it, was in the habit of 
 passing, and on the night in question he was pro- 
 ceeding along it at a pretty quick pace, when having 
 reached the beeches just alluded to, he perceived two 
 figures, a male and female, apparently engaged in 
 close and earnest conversation. The distance at first 
 was too great to enable liim to form any opinion as 
 to who they were, nor would he have even asked 
 himself the question, were it not that the way neces- 
 sarily brought him pretty near them. The reader 
 may form some conception then of his surprise, his 
 perplexity, and, disguise it as he might, his pain, on 
 ascertaining that the female was no other than Poll 
 Doohn, and her companion, graceful Phil himself —
 
 110 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 the gallant and accomplished owner of Handsome 
 Harry. 
 
 It appeared quite evident that the subject matter 
 of their conversation was designed for no other ears 
 than their own, or why speak as they did in low 
 and guarded tones, that implied great secrecy and 
 caution. Nay, what proved still a plainer corro- 
 boration of this — no sooner was the noise of his 
 footsteps heard, than Poll squatted herself down 
 behind the small hedge which separated the pathway 
 from the space on which they stood, and this clearly 
 with a hope of concealing her person from his obser- 
 vation. Phil also turned away his face with a 
 purpose of concealment, but the impression left by 
 his lank and scraggy outline, as it stood twisted 
 before Harman, was such as could not be mistaken. 
 Poll's identity not only on this occasion, but also 
 during her hasty separation from Mary, was now 
 estabhshed beyond the possibihty of a doubt ; a fact 
 which lent to both her interviews a degree of mystery 
 that confounded Harman. On thinking over the 
 matter coolly, he could scarcely help believing that 
 her appearance here was in some way connected with 
 the circumstances which had occasioned Mary so 
 much agitation and alarm. This suspicion, however, 
 soon gave way to a more generous estimate of her
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. Ill 
 
 character, and he could not permit himself for a 
 moment to imagine the existence of anything that 
 was prejudicial to her truth and affection. At the 
 same time he felt it impossible to prevent himself 
 from experiencing a strong sense of anxiety, or, 
 perhaps, we should say, a feehng of involuntary 
 pain, which lay like a dead weight upon his heart 
 and spirits. In truth, do what he might, and reason 
 as he would, he could not expel from his mind the 
 new and painful principle which disturbed it. And 
 thus- he went on, sometimes triumphantly defending 
 Mary from all ungenerous suspicion, and again 
 writhing under the vague and shapeless surmises 
 which the singular events of the evening sent 
 crowding to his imagination. His dreams on 
 retiring to seek repose, were frightful — several times 
 in the night he saw graceful Phil squinting at him 
 with a nondescript leer of vengeance and derision in 
 his yellow goggle eyes, and bearing Mary off, 
 like some mis-shapen ogre of old, mounted upon 
 Handsome Harry, who appeared to be gifted with 
 the speed of Harkaway or flying Childers, whilst he 
 himself could do nothing but stand helplessly by, 
 and contemplate the triumph of his hated rival. 
 
 In the mean time, the respected father and grand- 
 father of that worthy young gentleman were labour-
 
 112 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 ing as assiduously for his advancement in life, as if 
 he had been gifted with a catalogue of all human 
 virtues. Old Deaker, true to his word, addressed 
 the very next day, the following characteristic 
 epistle — 
 
 '' To the Right Hon. Lord Cumber. 
 " My Lord — It is unnecessary to tell you that I 
 was, during my life, a plain, blunt fellow in all my 
 transactions. When I was honest, I was honest 
 like a man ; and when I did the roguery, I did it 
 like an open, fearless knave, that defied the world, 
 and scorned hypocrisy. I am, therefore, the same 
 consistent old scoundrel as ever ; or the same bluff, 
 good-humoured rascal which your old father — who 
 sold his country — and yourself — who would sell it 
 too, if you had one to sell — ever found me. To 
 make short work, then, I want you to dismiss that 
 poor, scurvy devil, Hickman, from your agency, and 
 to put that misbegotten spawn of mine in his place. 
 I mean Val M'Clutchy, or Val the Vulture, as they 
 have very properly christened him. Hickman's not 
 the thing, in any sense. He can't manage the people, 
 and they impose upon him — then you suffer, of 
 course. Besides, he's an anti-ascendancy man, of 
 late, and will go against you at the forthcoming 
 Election. The fellow pretends to have a conscience,
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 113 
 
 and be cursed to him — prates about the Union — 
 preaches against corruption — and talks about the 
 people, as if they were fit to be any thing else than 
 what they are. Tliis is a pretty fellow for you to 
 have as an agent to your property. Now, I'll tell 
 what, my Lord — you know old Deaker well. His 
 motto is — ' let its eat, drink, and he merry, for to- 
 morrow yje die.' I'll tell you what, I say ; I have a 
 mortgage on your property for fourteen thousand 
 pounds. Now, put in Val, or I'll be speaking to 
 my lawyer about it. Put in Val, or you will never 
 warm your posterities in a seat for this county, so 
 long as I carry the key of it. In doing so, make no 
 wry faces about it — you will only serve yourself and 
 your property, and serve Val into the bargain. Val, 
 to be sure, is as confounded a scoundrel as any of us, 
 but then he is a staunch Protestant ; and you ought 
 not to be told at this time of day, that the greater 
 the scoundrel, the better the agent. Would you 
 have a fellow, for instance, whose conscience, mdeed, 
 must stand between you and your interest ? \A^ould 
 you have some honest blockhead, who, when you are 
 to be served by a piece of friendly rascahty, will 
 plead scruples. If so, you are a greater fool than 
 ever I took you to be. Make Val your agent, 
 and it is not you that will suffer l)y him, but the 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 VALENTINE M^CLUTCHY, 
 
 people — whom, of course, no one cares a curse about. 
 I ought to have some claim on you, I think. Many a 
 lift I have given your precious old father, Tom 
 Topertoe, when I did not think of pleading scruples. 
 To tell you the truth, many a dirty trick I played 
 for him, and never brought my conscience to account 
 for it. Make the most of this rascally world, and 
 of the rascals that are in it, for we are all alike in 
 the grave. Put in Val, then, and don't make an 
 enemy of 
 
 " Your old friend, 
 
 " Randal Deaker. 
 
 " P.S.— As to Val, he knows nothing of this 
 transaction — I told him I would say so, and I keep 
 my word. I forgot to say, that if you write this 
 beggarly devil, Hickman, a sharp letter for money, 
 he may probably save you the trouble of turning 
 him out. I know him well — he is a thin skinned 
 fool, and will be apt to bolt, if you follow my advice. 
 " Yours as you deserve it, 
 
 "R. D." 
 
 Now, it is necessary to say here, that amidst all 
 this pretence of open villany, there ran an under- 
 current of cunning that might escape the observation 
 of most men. In truth, old Deaker was not only a 
 knave, but a most unscrupulous oppressor at heart,
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 115 
 
 especially when he happened to get a man in his 
 power from whom he wished to extort a favour, or 
 on whom he wished to inflict an injury. In the 
 present instance he felt perfectly conscious of his 
 power over the heartless profligate to whom he 
 wrote such a characteristic letter, and the result 
 shows that he neither miscalculated the feeble prin- 
 ciples of his correspondent, nor the consequences of 
 his own influence over him. By due return of post 
 he received a reply of which the following is a 
 copy :— 
 
 " Old Deaker — You have me fast, and you know 
 it — so I suppose must is the word ; now I'll tell you 
 what I want, you old villain ; I want two thousand 
 pounds, and if M'Clutchy is to get the agency, I 
 must have the money — so there is my must as well 
 as yours. In the mean time I have written to Hick- 
 man on the same subject, want of money, I mean — 
 what the consequences may be I know not, but I 
 fancy I can guess them. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 " Cumber."
 
 CHAPTER VI. I 
 
 j 
 
 THE LIFE AND VIRTUES OF AN IRISH ABSENTEE DUTIES 1 
 
 OF AN IRISH LANDLORD AN APOLOGUE ON PROPERTY \ 
 
 REASONS FOR APPOINTING AN AGENT M'CLUTCHY's j 
 
 NOTION OF HIS DUTIES RECEIPT TO MAKE A FORTY | 
 
 SHILLING FREEHOLDER. 
 
 Lord Cumber to Henry Hickman, Esq. 
 
 " London, April 1st. 18 — j 
 
 " My Dear Hickman, | 
 
 "■ I wrote to you the day before yesterday, i 
 
 and as the letter was one of a very pressing nature, 
 
 I hope its influence won't be lost upon you. To you \ 
 
 who are so well acquainted with the cursed pickle in \ 
 
 i 
 
 which I am placed, it is unnecessary to say that I j 
 
 shall be fairly done up, unless you can squeeze j 
 
 something for me out of those rascally tenants of ' 
 
 mine. Fairly done up is not the proper term either ; ; 
 
 for between you and me, I strongly suspect a young 
 
 fellow called Swingler, an ironmonger's son, of giving 
 
 mc a twist too much, on more than one occasion, i
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 117 
 
 He was introduced, that is, proposed as a member 
 of our club, by Sir Robert Ratsbane, whose grand- 
 father was a druggist, and seconded by Lord Load- 
 stone, the celebrated lady killer, as a regular pigeon, 
 who dropped, by the death of old ' burn the wind,' 
 into half a miUion at least. The fellow did appear 
 to be a very capital speculation, but the whole tiling, 
 however, was a trick, as I strongly suspect ; for after 
 losing to a tolerably smart tune, our gentleman 
 began to illustrate the doctrine of re-action, and has, 
 under the character of a pigeon, already fleeced half 
 a score of us. Last week I suifered to the tune of 
 eight hundred — Sir Harry Heavyhead to that of 
 twelve — Bill Swag five — and the Hon. Tom Trick- 
 man himself, who scarcely ever loses, gave bills for 
 six fifties. I can't stand this, Hickman, that is, I 
 cannot afford to stand it. What is fifteen thousand a 
 year to a man Uke me, who must support his rank, or 
 be driven to the purgatorial alternative of being im- 
 prisoned on his own estate ? Hickman, you have no 
 bowels for me, although you can have for the hard fisted 
 boors on my property, who wont pay up as they ought, 
 and all through your indolence or neglect. You must 
 send me money, get it where you will ; beg, borrow, 
 rob, drive, cant, sell out — for money I must have. 
 Two thousand within a fortniglit, and no disappoint-
 
 118 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 ment, or I am dished. You know not the demands 
 upon me, and therefore you, naturally enough, think 
 very easily — much too easily — of my confounded 
 difficulties. If you had an opera girl to keep, as I 
 have — and a devilish expensive appendage the 
 affectionate jade is — perhaps you might feel a little 
 more Christian sympathy for me than you do. If 
 you had the expenses of my yacht — my large stud 
 at Melton Mowbray and Doncaster, and the yearly 
 deficits in my betting book, besides the never ending 
 train of jockies, grooms, feeders, trainers, et hoc 
 genus omne — to meet, it is probable, old boy, you 
 would not feel so very boundless an interest, as you 
 say you do, in the peace and welfare of another 
 man's tenantry, and all this at that other man's ex- 
 pense. You're confoundedly unreasonable, Hickman. 
 Why feel, or pretend to feel, more for these fellows, 
 their bare legged wives, and ragged brats, than you 
 do for a nobleman of rank, to whom you are deeply 
 indebted. I mean you no offence, Hickman ; you 
 are in other respects an honest fellow enough, and 
 if possessed of only a little less heart, as the times 
 go, and more skill in raising money from these 
 people, you would be invaluable to such a distressed 
 devil as I am. As it is, I regret to say, that you 
 are more a friend to my tenantry than to myself,
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 119 
 
 which is a poor quahfication for an agent. In fact, 
 we, the Irish aristocracy Uving here, or absentees as 
 you call us, instead of being assailed by abuse, want 
 of patriotism, neglect of duties, and all that kind of 
 stuff, have an especial claim upon the compassion of 
 their countrymen. If you knew what we, with Hmited 
 means and encumbered properties, must suffer in 
 attempting to compete with the aristocracy of this 
 country, who are enormously rich, you would say 
 that we deserve immortal credit for holding out and 
 keeping up appearances as we do — not that I think 
 we always come off scot free from their ridicule, 
 especially when they see the sliifts to which we are 
 put, in order to stretch onward at their own pace. 
 However, we must drink when we are thirsty as well 
 as they, and if the water happen to be low in the 
 cistern, which, indeed, is mostly the case with us, we 
 must, as the rook in the fable did with the pebbles, 
 throw in rackrenting, drivings, executions, mortgages, 
 loans, &c., in order to bring it within our reach — 
 for there is ingenuity in everything, as the proverb 
 says, except in roasting of eggs. 
 
 " Come, then, Hickman, set to work at once. My 
 yacht has been damaged by a foolish wager I made 
 to run her through a creek of reefs at low water, so 
 that the mere repairs will cost me a cool two hun-
 
 120 
 
 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 dred at least. Besides this, I have jjledgcd myself 
 to buy my charming little Signora, a pair of Blein- 
 hem spaniels that she has fallen in love with, for 
 which I shall have to fork out a hundred and fifty 
 down. I say, then, again, my dear Hickman, money, 
 money ; money by any means, but by all means 
 money ; rem, sed qiwcunque modo, rem. 
 
 " By the way is there not a man there, a kind of 
 under-fellow in something — agent, I believe — some 
 time appointed, named M'Switchy, or M'Smatchey, 
 or M^Clutchy, or some such euphonious appellative ? 
 Somebody, old Deaker I think, once mentioned him 
 to me in strong terms, and said he might become cap- 
 able of being useful; and you know, Hickman, as well 
 as I do, that every property circumstanced as mine 
 is, requires a useful fellow of that particular descrip- 
 tion. For instance, I dare say, there are certain 
 proceedings connected with your duty to which you 
 have no great inclination, and, under these circum- 
 stances, would it not be prudent at least to resort to 
 the agency of somebody like this M'Clutchy ; a 
 fellow not over-burthened with too strong a pre- 
 ception of the necessary pressure. But the truth is, 
 if I proceed in this manner, your humanity, as the 
 cant goes, will take the alarm ; you will say, that 
 my residence al)road has not improved my principles ;
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 121 
 
 and that I am rather strongly tainted with dul> 
 morahty, and the ethics of the gaming house. So 
 would you, perhaps, if you breathed my atmosphere, 
 and were exposed to my temptations. But now I 
 am preaching, and not to the right purpose either ; 
 so as I said before, I say again — money, money, 
 money. 
 
 " I am, my dear Hickman, 
 
 " Thy friend in distress, 
 
 " Cumber." 
 
 Henry Hickman, Esq., to the Right Honourable 
 Lord Viscount Cumber : — 
 
 " Primrose Hilli 
 '' April 18— 
 
 "My Lord, 
 
 " I have had the honour of receiving 
 both your commimi cations, and have read them, 
 especially that of the first instant, with great pain. 
 I need not tell you, that I have been your father's 
 friend — that I have been, and still am your friend, 
 and as such, from my age and anxiety for your 
 Lordship's welfare and reputation, I must take the 
 liberty of one who has both sincerely at heart, to 
 write to you in terms which a mere agent could not 
 witli propriety use. As this letter, therefore, is
 
 122 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 written for your own eye only, you will be good 
 enough to remember that in every thing severe and 
 home-spoken in it, the friend, and not the agent 
 speaks — at the same time, I must admit, that it is 
 from the knowledge gained as an agent, that I 
 remonstrate as a friend. 
 
 " It is now beyond a doubt, my Lord, that your 
 position is one surrounded with difficulties scarcely 
 to be surmounted, unless by measures which I, as 
 an honest man, cannot permit myself to adopt. 
 So long as the course of life, which it has pleased 
 your Lordship's better taste and judgment to 
 pursue, did not bring within the compass of my 
 duties as your agent, the exhibition of principles at 
 variance with humanity and justice, so long did I 
 fulfil those duties with all the abihty and zeal for 
 your just interests which I could exert. But now I 
 perceive, that you have driven me to that line 
 beyond which I cannot put my foot, without dis- 
 honour to myself. I have been the agent of your 
 property, my Lord, but I shall never become the 
 instrument of your vices ; and believe me, this is a 
 distinction which in our unhappy country, is too 
 seldom observed. Many an agent, my Lord, has 
 built himself a fortune out of the very necessities of 
 his employer, and left to his children the honourable
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 123 
 
 reflection that their independence originated from 
 profligacy on the one hand, and dishonesty on the 
 other. You see, my Lord, I find it necessary to be 
 very plain with you, and to say, that however you 
 may feel yourself disposed to follow the one course, 
 I shall not rival you in the other. I cannot become a 
 scourge inflicted by your necessities, not to use a 
 harsher word, upon a suffering people, who are 
 already exhausted and provoked by an excess of 
 severity and neglect. Think of the predicament in 
 which you would have me stand — of the defence 
 which you place in my Hps. Should your tenantry 
 ask me — ' why are you thus cruel and oppressive 
 upon us ?' what reply could I make but this — ' I am 
 thus cruel because his Lordship is profligate. He 
 wants money to support his mistress, to feed her 
 vanities and excesses, and you must endure distress 
 and privation, that the insatiable rapacity of a 
 courtezan may be gratified. His Lordship too, has 
 horses and dogs, in the welfare of which he feels 
 a deep interest.' ' But why does he not feel an 
 interest in us ?' ' So he does, for are not you the 
 persons by whose toil and labour he is enabled to 
 support them all ?' ' So that in point of fact, we 
 are made indirectly the agents of his crimes. The 
 privations which we suffer — the sweat of our brows —
 
 124 VALENTINE m'CLUTCHY, 
 
 tlic labour of our hands, go to the support of liis 
 wantonness, his luxury, and his extravagance ! This, 
 then, is his interest in us ?' ' Yes — work, that you 
 may feed them — starve, that his mistress may riot 
 in wantonness ; perish your children, that his dogs 
 may be fed !' In such a position as this, my Lord, 
 I shall never place myself, but you may easily find 
 many that will. The moment your necessities are 
 known, knavery will be immediately at work, and 
 assume its guardianship over folly. Indeed there is 
 a monarchical spirit in knavery, which has never yet 
 been observed. The knave keeps his fool, as did 
 the kings of old, with this only difference, and a 
 material one it is — that whilst the fool always lived 
 at the king's expense, the knave Hves at the fool's. 
 How your Lordship may feel under the new admin- 
 istration I cannot say, but I am inchned to think, 
 you will not find it a distinction without a difference. 
 By this, of course, you understand, my Lord, that 
 I at once resign my agency. 
 
 " And now, my Lord, in addition to many other 
 unavailable remonstrances made by me, not only 
 against your licentious habits as a man, but against 
 your still more indefensible conduct as a landlord, 
 allow mc to address you in a spirit of honesty, which 
 I fear is not easily found among the class to wliich
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 125 
 
 I belong. I look upon this as a duty which I owe 
 less to you than to my country, because I am satis- 
 fied that the most important ser^dce which cail be 
 rendered to any man, not ashamed of either your 
 habits or principles, is to lay before him a clear, 
 but short and simple statement, of that which con- 
 stitutes liis duty as a landlord — I should say an 
 Irish landlord — for there is a national idiosyncrasy 
 of constitution about such a man, which appears to 
 prevent him from properly discharging his duties, 
 either as a friend to himself, or a just man to his 
 tenantry. 
 
 " The first principle, therefore, which an Irish 
 landlord — or, indeed any landlord — should lay down, 
 as his fixed and unerring guide, is ever to remember 
 that his tenantry are his best friends — his only 
 patrons — and that instead of looking down upon 
 them with contempt, neglect, or even indifference, 
 he should feel that they are his chief benefactors, 
 who prop his influence, maintain his rank, and sup- 
 port his authority. 
 
 " The second is — that the duties of the landlord 
 to liis tenantry are much greater, and far more im- 
 portant than those of his tenantry to him, and 
 should at least be quite as equitably and attentively 
 discharged.
 
 126 VALENTINE m'CLUTCHY, 
 
 " The third is — to remember that the great mass 
 of the population in Ireland belong to one creed, and 
 the great bulk of landed proprietors to another ; and 
 to take care that none of those fierce and iniquitous 
 prerogatives of power, which are claimed and exer- 
 cised by those who possess property, shall be suf- 
 fered, in the name of religion, or politics, or preju- 
 dice of any kind, to disturb or abridge the civil or 
 religious rights of the people, and thus weaken the 
 bonds which should render the interests of landlord 
 and tenant identical. Prejudice so exercised is 
 tyranny. Every landlord should remember that 
 the soil is of no rehgion. 
 
 " The fourth is — simply to remember that those 
 who live upon our property have bodies and souls, 
 passions, reflections, and feelings like ourselves. That 
 they are susceptible of hunger, cold, grief, joy, sick- 
 ness, and sorrow — that they love their children and 
 domestic relatives, are attached to their rehgion, 
 bound by strong and heartfelt ties to the soil they 
 live on, and are, in fact, moved by all those general 
 laws and principles of life and nature, which go to 
 m[dic up social and individual happiness — to remem- 
 ber, in short, that they are men who have higher des- 
 tinies in life, than merely administering to the wants, 
 excesses, or crimes of others ; and that no condition
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 127 
 
 has ever yet been known to subsist between landlord 
 and tenant, or even between man and man, by which 
 one party is required to surrender comfort, freedom, 
 and enjoyment, in fact, all that life is good for, 
 merely to gratify the wants, vices, or ambition of 
 the other. 
 
 " The fifth and last is — not by oppression, cruelty, 
 or rapacity, to goad the people into madness and 
 outrage, under the plausible name of law or justice ; 
 or to drive the national mind — which is a clear one 
 — into reflections that may lead it to fall back upon 
 first principles, or force it to remember that the uni- 
 versal consent by which the rights of property are 
 acknowledged, may, under the exasperation of over- 
 strained pressure, in a land so pecuharly circum- 
 stanced as Ireland is, be altogether withheld, and 
 thus its whole foundations shaken or overturned, and 
 the justice of individual claims and prescriptive right 
 lost in the tumult. 
 
 These principles are simple, my Lord, but they 
 ought at least to be better known, or what would be 
 still more desirable, better practised. As, however, 
 my paper is nearly filled, 1 shall finish my commu- 
 nication with a short fable, to which I beg your 
 Lordship's serious attention. 
 
 There lived a man once who was foolish enough
 
 128 VALENTINE M'CLUTCIIY, 
 
 to entertain a senseless prejudice against cows, 
 because they did not give milk all the year round. 
 This man was married, and of course, had a 
 numerous family of children, and being very lazy 
 and improvident, depended principally upon the 
 kindliness of an excellent cow, whose milk was 
 the chief means of his support and theirs. At 
 length in the due course of time, the poor cow, as 
 every one must know, began to yield it in diminished 
 quantities, and as it happened to be a severe year, 
 and as the lazy man we speak of, had made no pro- 
 vision for its occurrence, it is unnecessary to say 
 that he and his family were put to the greatest 
 straits for subsistence. Finding, after much deli- 
 beration, that the poor animal, which they kicked 
 and cudgelled to excess, could not change the laws 
 of nature, or aiford them that which she did not 
 possess, it was determined by her proprietor, that as 
 she failed in supplying them with sufficient milk 
 they should try the phleme, and have recourse to 
 her blood, in order to eke out their support. Ac- 
 cordingly she was bled, along with being milked; but 
 if the quantity of milk she gave before was little, it 
 now became less, so that in proportion as they drew 
 upon the one the other diminished, as was but 
 natural. In this way they proceeded, milking and
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 129 
 
 bleeding the poor animal at the same time, not only 
 without any benefit to themselves, but with a certain 
 prospect of her ultimate loss, when one day the cow, 
 after having ruminated for some time on the treat- 
 ment she was receiving, began to reflect that she 
 could not be much worse, or rather, that she must 
 soon altogether sink under this system of double 
 drainage. ' Well,' thought she, ' I feel how matters 
 must close mth me at last ; I am indeed, near the end 
 of my tether ; what have I now to fear when I know 
 that I cannot be worse? And if I am to die, as I must, 
 is it not better to have satisfaction for my sufferings ?' 
 Accordingly, the next morning when her owner 
 went to get blood for their breakfast, it so happened 
 that the cow thrust a horn into him, and he was 
 found lying a corpse under her hfeless carcase — the 
 last drop of her blood having been expended under 
 the final operation of the phlemes. 
 
 " My Lord, the moral of this is as obvious as it is 
 fearful — and fearfully have the circumstances of the 
 country, and the principles of such men as you, 
 caused it to be illustrated. If landlords will press 
 too severely upon the functions of human suffering 
 and patience, it is not to be surprized, although it 
 is to be deplored, that where no legal remedy exists 
 against individual cruelty or rapacity, or that plau- 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 sible selfishness, which is the worst species of oppres- 
 sion — that the law, I say, which protects only the 
 one party should be forgotten or despised by the 
 other, and a fiercer code of vengeance substituted in 
 its stead. 
 
 *' With respect to Mr. M'Clutchy, surely your 
 lordship must remember that by your own letter he 
 was appointed under agent more than three years 
 ago. 
 
 *' If, after the many remonstrances I have had 
 occasion to make against his general conduct to the 
 tenants, you consider him a useful man upon your 
 property, you will, in that case, have to abide the 
 consequences of your confidence in him. You are, 
 at all events, duly forewarned. 
 
 " I now must beg leave, my Lord, to render up 
 my trust, to resign my situation as the agent of your 
 estates — I do so with pain, but the course of your 
 lordship's Hfe has left me no other alternative. I 
 cannot rack and goad your tenants, nor injure your 
 own property. I cannot paralyze industry, cramp 
 honest exertion, or distress poverty still further, 
 merely to supply necessities which are little less than 
 criminal in yourself and ruinous to your tenantry. 
 
 " Believe me, my Lord, I would not abandon you 
 in your cUfficulties, if I saw any honourable means
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 131 
 
 of extricating you from them. You know, however, 
 that every practicable step has been taken for that 
 purpose, but without effect — your property should 
 grow rapidly indeed, in order to keep pace with the 
 increasing and incessant demands which are made 
 upon it. We can borrow no more, and the know- 
 ledge of that fact alone, ought to set a hmit to your 
 extravagance. Excuse this plainness, my Lord, it is 
 well meant and void of intentional offence. 
 
 " I shall be ready in a few days to deliver all books, 
 papers, documents, &c., connected with the property, 
 to any person duly authorised by your Lordship to 
 receive them. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, &c. 
 
 " Henry Hickman." 
 
 The Right Honourable Lord Cumber, to Valen- 
 tine M'Clutchy :— 
 
 '' Doncaster, April 18 — 
 " Sir, 
 
 " In consequence of certain communications 
 which have passed between Mr. Hickman and myself, 
 I have determined that he shall no longer act in the 
 capacity of my agent. The situation is therefore 
 open, and, until a competent person shall be appointed,
 
 132 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 I authorize you to discharge its duties, and receive 
 from him a correct statement of all accounts between 
 us, together with all deeds, leases, books, papers, 
 &c., in his possession ; you first having procured me 
 adequate security, the amount of wliich will be 
 determined by M'Slime, my law agent, who will join 
 or aid you in making all necessary arrangements. 
 
 " You will also have the goodness as soon after- 
 wards as you feel it practicable, to transmit me a 
 bona fide account of the Ballyracket and Tullygrin- 
 dem estates, their capabihty of improvement, the 
 condition of the tenantry, what leases are expired, 
 if any, and those which will soon drop, with a view 
 of seeing what can be made out of it. In this, also, 
 M' Slime will aid you. 
 
 " As to the person who may succeed Hickman, 
 as a necessary preliminary he must lay down two 
 thousand pounds, in the shape of an equivalent for 
 the appointment. Could you within a fortnight or 
 so, raise so much? If so, let me hear from you 
 without delay, as it is not unlikely in that case, I 
 may appoint yourself. 
 
 " By the way, do you understand the manufacture 
 of forty shiUing free-holders in an economical way, 
 because if you do, it would be a desideratum. Par-
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 133 
 
 liament, it is said, will be dissolved in June, and I want, 
 as well as I can remember, nearly two hundred votes. 
 My brother lost the last election by something about 
 that number, and I know he feels very anxious to 
 get into parliament for many reasons. He is now 
 on the continent, where he has been for the last 
 three years." 
 
 Valentine M'Clutchy, Esq., to the Right Hon. 
 Lord Viscount Cumber : — 
 
 '' My Lord, 
 
 " I have had the honour of recei\dng 
 your Lordship's kind communication, to which I 
 hasten to make the earhest possible reply. And 
 first, my Lord, allow me to return sincere thanks 
 for your warm kindness, in promising to appoint 
 me your agent. You may rest assured, my Lord, 
 that I will go through my duties as such without 
 favour or affection to any one, barring your Lord- 
 ship, whose interests it will night and day become 
 my duty to study. With respect to the loan your 
 Lordship makes allusion to, I fear it will be out of 
 my power to raise it — that is to the full amount ; 
 but if one half would do, I might by the aid of 
 friends get it together. As for security, I trust it 
 is onl}' necessary to say, that Randal Deaker and
 
 134 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 Cadwallader Tullywagger, Esqrs., are ready to give 
 it to any amount, so that there is no difficulty there 
 at all events. 
 
 " On looking again at your Lordship's kind 
 letter, it appears possible that I made a mistake in 
 considering the two thousand as a loan ; but on the 
 other hand, there is not a man living, who respects 
 the liigh principles and delicate feelings of our 
 aristocracy more than I do, and the consequence 
 was, that I feared in supposing it otherwise than a 
 loan, I might offend your Lordship's keen sense of 
 honour, which I pledge my credit and reputation 
 would grieve my heart even to think of. Under 
 this impression, then, I shall continue to believe it a 
 loan, until I have the honour of hearing from your 
 Lordship again. 
 
 " Your anxiety, my Lord, to ascertain the state of 
 your property and the condition of your tenantry is 
 certainly honourable to yourself, as being a direct 
 proof of the generous interest you feel in their 
 welfare. It is fortunate in this instance, that your 
 Lordship should apply to a man who has had the 
 best opportunities of becoming acquainted with both. 
 True, I am a simple minded man, my Lord, and 
 if I possess one quality more than another it is a 
 love of truth, and a slow, but straight forward per-
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 135 
 
 severance in whatever is right. It is to this, always 
 under providence, that I owe every thing. I grant 
 indeed, that it ill becomes me to speak in this manner 
 of myself, but my object in doing so is, that as I am 
 about to enter into communications touching your 
 Lordship's tenants and property, you may be induced 
 to place the fullest confidence in whatever I shall 
 say. Many a time, indeed, my excellent and worthy 
 friend, Mr. Hickman, has made the same observation, 
 and I felt it gratifying in the highest degree to hear 
 this from a man who is truth itself ; and whose only 
 fault is — if it be one — that his heart is too kind, 
 and rather easily imposed on by those who deal in 
 fraud and cunning. A man like him, who, if he 
 cannot speak well of an absent friend, will be silent, 
 is a jewel in this life which ought to be worn in the 
 very core of the heart- 
 
 "With respect to the Bally racket estate, of which 
 I shall speak first, I cannot report so favourably as 
 I could wish. The task, in fact, is to me person- 
 ally, a very painful one ; especially with reference 
 to that well meaning and estimable gentleman, Mr. 
 Hickman. In the first place, my Lord, the tenan- 
 try are not at all in arrears, a circumstance which 
 is by no means in favour of the landlord, especially 
 an Irish one. Every one knows that an Irish land-
 
 136 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 lord has other demands upon his tenantry besides 
 the payment of their rents. Is there no stress, for 
 instance, to be laid upon his pohtical influence, which 
 cannot be exerted unless through their agency ? 
 Now a tenant not in arrears to his landlord, is com- 
 paratively independent, but it is not with an inde- 
 pendent tenantry that a landlord can work his wishes. 
 No, my Lord; the safe principle is to keep the 
 tenant two or three gales behind, and if he fails in 
 submission, or turns restiff, and becomes openly 
 contumacious, then you have the means of rectifying 
 the errors of his judgment in your own hands, and 
 it can be done with the colour of both law and justice^ 
 behind which any man may stand without the imputa- 
 tion of harsh motives, or an excessive love of subord- 
 ination. I am sorry that Mr. Hickman should differ 
 with me on this point, for he is a man whose opinions 
 are very valuable on many things, with the excep- 
 tion of his amiable and kind-hearted obstinacy. 
 
 " The next disadvantage to your interests, my 
 Lord, is another error — I am sorry to be forced to 
 say it — of Mr. Hickman. That gentleman is an 
 advocate for education and the spread of knowledge. 
 Now if an agent were as much devoted to the inte- 
 rests of the people, as he is and ought to be to 
 those of the landlord, this principle might pass : but
 
 THE IRISH AGENT, 137 
 
 as I take it, that the sole duty of an agent is to ex- 
 tend the interests of his employer exclusively, so 
 am I opposed to any plan or practice by which the 
 people may be taught to think too clearly. For 
 let me ask, my Lord, what class of persons, at the 
 approach of an election, for instance, or during its 
 continuance, are most available for our interests? 
 Who are driven without reluctance, without thought, 
 or without reason, in blind and infatuated multi- 
 tudes, to the hustings ? Certainly not those who 
 have been educated, or taught to think and act for 
 themselves ; but the poor and the ignorant. And, 
 my Lord, is not the vote of an ignorant man as 
 valid in law, as that of one who is enlightened ? For 
 these reasons, then, I do not approve of the new 
 schools which Mr. Hickman has estabUshed ; and I 
 was pleased to hear that your Lordship was suffici- 
 ently awake to your own interests, to decline grant- 
 ing them any support. No, my Lord ; an educated 
 people will be a thinking people — a thinking people 
 will be an independent people — but an independent 
 people will not be a manageable people ; and if that 
 is not placing the subject in a satisfactory light, I 
 know not what is. 
 
 " I need scarcely assure you, my Lord, that in 
 my own humble way, I did every thing I reason-
 
 138 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 ably could, to discountenance the education system. 
 I even went so far as to prevent several of the ten- 
 ants from sending their children to these schools ; 
 but, as usual, I experienced but little gratitude at 
 their hands, or at those of their parents. This, how- 
 ever, was not so much owing to my interference, as 
 to the accidental circumstance of three or four of 
 them having been hanged and transported for 
 crimes, which they were base enough to impute to 
 the ignorance occasioned by my principles — for so 
 they spoke. 
 
 " Such, then, is the condition of the Ballyracket 
 tenantry. They are not in arrears, and you may 
 consequently guess at the wretched state of their 
 moral feelings. They are, in fact, every day be- 
 coming more aware of the very kind of knowledge 
 which we don't wish them to possess. They do not 
 slink aside when they see you now ; on the contrary, 
 they stand erect, and look you fearlessly in the face. 
 Upon my credit and reputation this is truth — melan- 
 choly truth, my Lord — and I fear that at the next 
 election you will find it so to your cost. 
 
 " I have lost no time in ascertaining the other 
 particulars mentioned in your Lordship's letter. 
 The leases of three townlands expired on March last. 
 They are Derrydowny , Cracknaboulteen, and Bally-
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 139 
 
 weltem. The principal tenant of Derrydowny is a 
 very respectable widow — one Mrs. M' Swaddle — a 
 woman of serious habits, if not of decided piety. 
 She has three daughters, all of whom sit under the 
 ministration of a Mr. Boltham — which is pronounced 
 Bottom — a young preacher, belonging to the Metho- 
 dist connexion. They are to all appearance well 
 in the world, keep a conversation car, and have the 
 reputation of being very honest and saving. Old 
 M' Swaddle himself was a revenue collector, and it 
 is said, died richer than they are wilhng to admit. 
 Cracknaboulteen is altogether in the possession of the 
 celebrated family of the M'Kegs — or, as they are 
 called, the Five Sols — the name of each being Solo- 
 mon, which is shortened into Sol. There is lame 
 Sol, bUnd Sol, long Sol, uncertain Sol, and Sol of 
 the mountain. They are celebrated distillers of 
 poteen whiskey, but are not rich. The estate, in 
 fact, would be better without them, were it not for 
 their votes. The townland of Ballyweltem is princi- 
 pally the property of a wild faction, named M'Kip- 
 peen, whose great delight is to keep up perpetual 
 feud against an opposite faction of the O' Squads, 
 who on their part are every whit as eager for the 
 fray as their enemies. These people are also poor 
 enough, and in an election arc not to be depended
 
 140 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 on. I should say, in addition to this, tliat several 
 renewal fines will fall in during the course of the 
 winter. I shall, however, examine the leases, and 
 other documents, still more searchingly, and see 
 what can be got out of it, and how far we can go. 
 
 "The Tullygrindem estate is, I am sorry to say, 
 in a still more disheartening condition. There is a 
 very bitter and knowing family living on the town- 
 land of Beleeven, named M'Loughlin, who have 
 contrived to spread dangerous and destructive prin- 
 ciples among the tenantry. They are cunning, 
 unscrupulous, and vindictive, but cautious, plausible, 
 and cloaked with the deepest hypocrisy. I have 
 been endeavouring for years to conciliate, or rather, 
 reform them by kindness, but hitherto without 
 effect ; whether I shall ultimately succeed in purifying 
 this fountain head of bigotry and unconstitutional 
 principle — I do not wish to use a shorter, but a much 
 stronger term — I cannot yet say. I shall, at all 
 events, from a sense of justice to you, my Lord, and 
 of kindness — mistaken it may be, I grant you — to 
 them, continue to make the desirable attempt. My 
 amiable friend, Hickman, has certainly been made the 
 dupe of their adroitness, but, indeed, he is too simple 
 and credulous for this world, as every kind hearted 
 man, with great benevolence and httle judgment, usu-
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 141 
 
 ally is. If I had not risen honestly and honourably, 
 as I trust I may say, through the gradations of office 
 upon this property, I think it probable I might 
 myself have been deceived and misled by the natural 
 and seductive tact of this dangerous family. Mr. 
 Hickman espouses their quarrel, not exactly their 
 quarrel, but their cause against me ; but that is so 
 completely in accordance with his easy simplicity of 
 character, and his pardonable love of popularity, 
 that it rather endears him to me than otherwise. 
 
 " Indeed, I may say, my Lord, candidly and con- 
 fidentially, that there is a spirit abroad upon your 
 estates, which requires to be vigilantly watched, and 
 checked with all due and reasonable promptitude ; 
 I allude principally to these M'Loughhns, and when 
 I state that my excellent and well disposed friend, 
 is absolutely popular among your tenantry, even 
 although he made them pay up to the very last gale, 
 and that I am by no means in good odour with them, 
 you will not be surprised when I furnish your Lord- 
 ship with a key to this same state of feeling which 
 exists so generally in this country. This, then, my 
 Lord, is the secret : — whenever an Irish agent 
 devotes himself honestly to the wants, wishes, and 
 interests of his employer, especially if he be needy 
 and pressed for money, so sure will he become
 
 142 
 
 unpopular with the tenantry. Now, I am somewhat 
 unpopular with the tenantry, and my amiable friend 
 Hickman, is beloved by them ; but 1 think your 
 Lordship by this time understands the why and the 
 wherefore on both sides. As your agent, my Lord, 
 I should regret such popularity, at the same time, I 
 think the intentions of poor, sweet, amiable Hick- 
 man's heart, are such as we must all love and 
 admire. 
 
 "With respect, my Lord, to the manufacture of the 
 ' Forties,' as a certain comical class of freeholders 
 are termed, I could have easily undertaken to double 
 the number ^ you mention, on the most reasonable 
 terms, were it not for the discouraging system 
 adopted by Mr. Hickman. As it is, I must see what 
 can be done ; but your Lordship knows that I can 
 take no step either in this or anything else, until my 
 appointment shall be finally confirmed. Perhaps 
 you are not aware of the remarkable document, on 
 the subject in question, which has recently gone its 
 rounds in this country. It is called — 
 
 *A RECEIPT TO MAKE A FORTY SHILLING FREEHOLDER.' 
 
 " ' Take the poorest Irishman you can get, he must 
 be destitute and ignorant, for then he wiU be slavish, 
 give him a mud cabin, but no education ; let the 
 former be a bad model of an indifferent pig-stye, and
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 143 
 
 held at thrice its value. Put him to repose on a com- 
 fortable bed of damp straw, with his own coat and his 
 wife's petticoat, for bed clothes. Pamper him on two 
 half meals of potatoes and point per day — with water 
 ad libitum. For clothing — let him have a new shirt 
 once every three years — to give him exercise and 
 keep him clean — a hat once in every seven, and 
 brogues whenever he can get them. His coat and 
 breeches — lest he might grow too independent — 
 must be worn upon the principle of the Higlilander's 
 knife, which, although a century in the family, was 
 never changed, except sometimes the handle and 
 sometimes the blade. Let his right to vote be 
 founded upon a freehold property of six feet square, 
 or as much as may be encompassed by his own shirt, 
 and take care that there be a gooseberry bush in the 
 centre of it ; he must have from four to ten children, 
 as a proof of his standing in society, all fashionably 
 dressed, and coming at the rate of one every twelve 
 months. Having thus, by a liberal system of feeding 
 and clothing, rendered him strong for labour, you 
 must work him from dark to dark — pay him four 
 pence a day for three quarters of the year, with 
 permission to beg or starve for the remainder. When 
 in health task him beyond his strength, and when 
 sick neglect him — for there is nothing so beautiful as
 
 144 VALENTINE M'C'LUTCHY, 
 
 kindness in a landlord, and gratitude in a tenant — 
 and thus will your virtues become reciprocal. He 
 must live under a gradation of six landlords, so that 
 whoever defaults, he may suffer — and he will have 
 the advantage of six tyrants instead of one. Your 
 agent is to wheedle, and your bailiff to bully him ; 
 the one must promise, and the other threaten ; but if 
 both fail, you must try liim yourself. Should he 
 become intractable under all tliis, you must take 
 purer measures. — CompHment him on his wife — 
 praise and admire his children — play upon his 
 affections, and corrupt him through his very virtues 
 — for that will show that you love your country and 
 her people better than your own interests. Place a 
 promise of independence on one side of him, but a 
 ruined cottage and extermination on the other. — 
 When all his scruples are thus honourably overcome, 
 and his conscience skilfully removed, take liim for 
 twenty minutes or so out of his rags, put him into a 
 voting suit that he may avoid suspicion, bring him 
 up to the poll — steep him in the strongest perjury, 
 then strip liim of his voting suit, clap liim into his 
 rags, and having thus fitted liim for the perpetration 
 of any treachery or crime, set him at large once 
 more that he may disseminate your own principles 
 upon your own property, until you may requu-e him
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 145 
 
 again. Having thus honestly discharged your duty 
 to God and your country, go cabnly to your pillow, 
 where you can rest in the consciousness of having 
 done all that a virtuous man and true patriot can 
 do, to promote the comfort and independence of his 
 fellow-creatures. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, &c. &c. 
 " Val M'Clutchy.'* 
 
 Lord Cumber to Solomon M'Slime, Esq., Attor- 
 ney at Law : — 
 
 *' Dear Sir, 
 
 " Enclosed is a letter to Mr. M'Clutchy, 
 which I will trouble you to forward to him as soon 
 as you can. It contains his appointment to the 
 vacant agency, together with the proper power of 
 attorney, and I have every reason to hope, that my 
 property will improve under him. I did think it no 
 breach of any honourable principle, to make him 
 advance, by way of compensation, the sum of two 
 thousand pounds. It is a thing very usually done, 
 I am aware, and by men who would not bear any 
 imputation against their honour. But I know not 
 how it is, his letter has deterred me from taking the 
 money in that light. It would be certainly too bad, 
 to allow a person of his birth and standing in the 
 world, to teach one of mine a lesson in delicacy of 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 VALENTINE M'CLUTCIIY, 
 
 feeling. For this reason, then, let him advance the 
 money on the usual terms of loan : — that you can 
 adjust between you. All I ask is, that you will not 
 lose one moment of unnecessary time in accomplish- 
 ing this business, and remitting the money. Two 
 thousand in a fornight will be of more value to me 
 than four in a month, owing to the peculiar difficul- 
 ties in which I am placed. " Yours, 
 
 " Cumber. 
 
 " P. S. — I say, my little saint, I hope you are as 
 religious as ever — but in the mean time as it is not 
 unlikely — but on the contrary very probable — if not 
 altogether certain — that I shall be in Ireland should 
 an election take place, I trust you will have the 
 kindness to let me know if there's e'er a pretty girl 
 in the neighbourhood — that wants a friend and pro- 
 tector — ha, ha, ha — as great a sinner as ever, you 
 see — but for that reason you know the more entitled 
 to your prayers for my conversion. The greater 
 the saint, the greater the sinner now a days — or is 
 it the other way ? 1 forget. 
 
 " Cumber."' 
 
 Lord Cumber to Val M'Clutchy, enclosed in the 
 above : — 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 '' I am very happy in appointing you to the 
 important situation of my agent, with all the neces-
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 147 
 
 sary powers and authority to act as may seem best 
 to you for my advantage. The money I will take 
 on your own terms, only I beg that you will lose no 
 time in remitting it. I agree with you in tliinking 
 that Mr. Hickman, however well meaning, was 
 deficient in firmness and penetration of character, so 
 far as the tenants were concerned ; and I would 
 recommend you to avoid the errors which you per- 
 ceived in him. With many principles laid down in 
 your letter I agree, but not with all. For instance 
 if I understand you right, you would appear to 
 advocate too much indulgence to the tenantry at my 
 expense ; for what else is allowing them to run 
 into arrears. This certainly keeps the money out of 
 my pocket, and you cannot surely expect me to 
 countenance such a proceeding as that : — whilst I say 
 this, it is due to you that I consider your ultimate 
 object a correct one. Property loses a great portion 
 of its value, unless the landlord's influence over the 
 people be as strong as his right in the soil ; and for 
 this reason, the duty of every landlord is to exercise 
 as powerful a controul over the former, and get as 
 much out of the latter, as he can. The landlords, to 
 be sure, are of one religion, and the people of another ; 
 but so long as we can avail ourselves of the latter for 
 poUtical purposes, we need care but httle about their
 
 148 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 creed. The results in this case are precisely the 
 same as if the country were Protestant, and that is 
 as much as we want. Indeed I question, if the whole 
 Irish population were Protestant to morrow, whether 
 the fact would not be against us. I now speak as 
 identifying myself with British interests. Would 
 we find them as manageable and as easily shaped to 
 our purposes? I fear not. They would demand 
 education, knowledge, and all the fulness of civil 
 liberty ; they would become independent, they would 
 think for themselves, and in what predicament would 
 that place us ? Could we then work out British 
 interests, foster British prejudices, and aid British 
 ambition as we do ? Certainly not, unless we had 
 the people with us, and without them we are nothing. 
 
 " On the whole, then, so long as we continue to 
 maintain our proper influence over them, I think 
 without doubt, we are much safer as we stand. 
 
 " With respect to the discharge of your duty, 
 your own judgment will be a better guide than 
 mine. As I said before, avoid Hickman's errors ; 
 I fear he was too soft, credulous, and easily played 
 upon. Excess of feeling, in fact, is a bad quaUfica- 
 tion in an agent. Humanity is very well in its place ; 
 but a strong sense of duty is worth a thousand of it. 
 It strikes me, that you would do well to put on a
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 149 
 
 manner in your intercourse with the tenants, as much 
 opposed to Hickman's as possible. Be generally 
 angry, speak loud, swear roundly, and make them 
 know their place. To bully and brow beat is not 
 easily done with success, even in a just cause, 
 although with a broken spirited people it is a good 
 gift ; but after all I apprehend the best method is 
 just to adapt your bearing to the character of the 
 person you have to deal with, if you wish as you 
 ought, to arrive at that ascendancy of feehng on 
 your part, and subserviency on theirs, which are 
 necessary to keep them in proper temper for your 
 purposes. 
 
 " Your receipt for making a forty shilling free- 
 holder contains many excellent ingredients, but I 
 do not think it was honestly drawn up ; that is, I 
 beheve it to be the production of some one who was 
 not friendly to that system of franchise. I have 
 httle else to say, except that you will find it 
 necessary I think to be very firm and rigorous. 
 Remember that we are here to day, and gone to 
 morrow ; so upon this principle keep them moving at 
 a steady pace. In three words, think of my diffi- 
 culties, and get all you can out of them — still 
 remembering, as we say in the ring, never to train
 
 150 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 them below their strength, for that would be the 
 loss of our own battle. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 " Cumber." 
 
 Solomon M' Slime, Esq., Attorney at law, to Lord 
 Cumber. 
 
 " My esteemed Lord, 
 
 " I had the unmerited honour — for, indeed, 
 to a man sensible of his many frailties as I am, I feel 
 it is an unmerited honour — to receive any communi- 
 cation from one whom the Lord hath exalted to a 
 place of such high rank in this world, as that which 
 your Lordship so worthily fills. It gives me great 
 gratification, my Lord, to learn from your last let- 
 ter that you have appointed my friend, Mr. Valen- 
 tine M'Clutchy, as your agent. I am not in the 
 habit of attributing such circumstances as this — be- 
 ing, as they generally are, matters of mere worldly 
 prudence and convenience — to any over-ruHng cause 
 from above ; but truly the appointment of such a 
 man at this particular time, looks as if there were a 
 principle of good at work for your Lordship's inte- 
 rests. May you continue, as you do, to deserve it ! 
 Your change of agents is, indeed, one that, through 
 the talent, energy, and integrity of Mr. M'Clutchy,
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 151 
 
 is likely to redound much and largely to your own 
 benefit. In his capacity of under agent, I have had 
 frequent opportunities of transacting business with 
 him ; and when I contrast his quickness, clearness, 
 
 honesty, and skill, with the evident want of but 
 
 no, my Lord ; far be it from me, as a Christian 
 man, to institute any rash comparison either in favour 
 of my fellow-creature or against him, so long as sin 
 and prejudice even for that which is good, and frailty, 
 may render us, as they often do, Hable to error. 
 In Mr. M'Clutchy it is possible I may be mistaken ; 
 in Mr. Hickman it is possible I may be mistaken — 
 I am not infalhble — I am frail — a very sinner, but 
 not removed wholly, I would trust, out of the range 
 of grace. My Lord, I say again, that, as a consci- 
 entious man, and as far as mere human reason — 
 which is at best but short-sighted — enables me to 
 judge, I am truly cheered in spirit by this, I trust, 
 providential change in the agency of your property. 
 My Lord, in my various correspondence, I gene- 
 rally endeavour to make it a rule not to forget my 
 Christian duties, or, so to speak, to cast a single 
 grain of the good seed into the hearts of those to 
 whom I am privileged to write. The calls of reli- 
 gion are, indeed, strong upon us, if we permitted 
 ourselves to listen to them as we ought. Will your
 
 152 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 Lordship then pardon me for reminding you, that, 
 however humble the instrument, I have before now 
 been the honoured means of setting your godly ex- 
 amples of charity before the world, with the single- 
 hearted purpose and hope, that it might imitate your 
 virtues. There is in the neighbourhood a case 
 at present of great distress, in the person of a 
 widow and her three young children, who have been 
 left destitute by the guilt and consequent deportation 
 of her unhappy husband to Australia, for the crime 
 of feloniously abstracting live mutton. I defended 
 him professionally, or, I should say — although I do 
 not boast of it — with an eye to the relief of liis inte- 
 resting wife, but without success ; and what render- 
 ed his crime more unpardonable, he had the unpa- 
 ralleled wickedness to say, that he was instigated to 
 it by the ill advice and intemperate habits of this ami- 
 able woman. Will your Lordship, then, allow me to 
 put your honoured name in the hst of her Christian 
 friends ? Allow me, my Lord, to subscribe myself, 
 " Your Lordship's frail, unworthy, 
 " but faithful and honoured servant, 
 
 " Solomon M'Slime. 
 *' p.S. — With respect to your jocose and ironical 
 postscript, may I again take the liberty of throwing 
 in a word in season. If your Lordship could so far
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 158 
 
 assume a proper Christian seriousness of character, 
 as to render the act of kindness and protection on 
 your part such as might confer a competent indepen- 
 dence upon a female of religious dispositions, I doubt 
 not, should your Lordship's charity continue un- 
 abated on your arrival here, that some such desirable 
 opportunity might offer, as that of rescuing a comely 
 but desolate maiden from distress. 
 
 " There is, indeed, a man here living on your 
 Lordship's property, who has a daughter endowed 
 with a large portion of that vain gift called beauty. 
 Her father and family are people of bad principle, 
 without conscience or honesty, and, withal, utterly 
 destitute of religion — not but that they carry them- 
 selves very plausibly to the world. Among such 
 people, my Lord, it is not possible that this engag- 
 ing damsel, who is now so youthful and innocent, 
 could resist the evil influence of the principles that 
 prevail in her family. Indeed, her abiding among 
 them cannot be for her welfare in any sense. 
 " I have the honour, &c." 
 
 Valentine M'Clutchy, Esq. to Solomon M'Shme. 
 " My dear M'Slime, 
 
 "As it is beyond any doubt that in the fair 
 discharge of our duty you and I can be mutually
 
 154 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 serviceable to each other ; and as it is equally evi- 
 dent that it is our interest, and what is more, the 
 interest of Lord Cumber, that we should be so, I 
 therefore tliink it right to observe, that in all trans- 
 actions between us, each should treat the other with 
 the most perfect confidence. For this reason, I beg 
 to assure you, once for all, that in any proceeding 
 that may appear harsh towards any of liis lordship's 
 tenantry, I am and shall be actuated by no other 
 feehng, than a strong, conscientious sense of my duty 
 to him. This is, was, and will be the principle of 
 my whole life. And you know very well, my dear 
 M' Slime, that if I were less devoted to those inte- 
 rests than I am, my popularity would be greater 
 among the tenantry. Indeed, few men have a right 
 to know this better than yourself, inasmuch as you 
 stand in precisely the same beloved relation to them 
 that I do. 
 
 " Our excellent friend Hickman, is a very worthy 
 man and exceedingly well meaning. Don't you 
 think so ? Oh, I am sure you do. Yet I know not 
 how it happened that he left out of his system of 
 agency some of the most valuable rights and privi- 
 leges of the landlord. These I will mention to you 
 when I see you, and when I have more time. I con- 
 sequently must say, that in attempting to revive
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 155 
 
 these rights, even while I was deputy-agent, the 
 unjust odium that is falhng upon me ah-eady, even 
 while I had scarce time to move in them, ought 
 rather to be — that is morally speaking — visited 
 upon him who allowed them to lapse. Now that 
 the fine old leases of the M'Loughlins and the Har- 
 mans, and others, have dropped, what can I do but 
 study Lord Cumber's interest, in the first instance ? 
 Not but I would serve them if I could, and will if I 
 can. I bear them no ill feeling ; and if they have 
 joined in the calumnies and threats that are so un- 
 justly uttered against me, what can I do, and what 
 ought I do, but return good for evil ? You, as a 
 truly rehgious and pious man, will feel dehghted to 
 support me in this principle, and also to aid me in 
 bearing it practically out. Any ser\'ices of a similar 
 kind that I can honestly and conscientiously render 
 you — and none other would you accept — I shall be 
 on my part delighted to offer. In the mean time, 
 let me have your excellent advice as to the most 
 efficient means of stifling the unreasonable murmurs 
 that are rising among the people — and as touching 
 M'Loughhn's and Harman's properties, I should be 
 glad to see you, in order to consult upon what may 
 or can be done for them, always compatibly with 
 Lord Cumber's interests.
 
 156 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 '' The pair of turkies which I send you are the 
 result of my reviving one of liis Lordship's rights. 
 They are duty-turkies, and I do not think they will 
 eat the worse for the blessings wliich Darby O' Drive 
 tells me accompanied them ; at least I don't find 
 they do. 
 
 "All that I have yet written, however, is only pre- 
 liminary ; but now to business. I have received the 
 letter which Lord Cumber transmitted to me, under 
 your frank, in which I am appointed his head agent. 
 He also is willing to accept the two thousand pounds 
 on my own terms — that is, of course, as a loan, at 
 the usual rate of interest. But don't you tliink, my 
 dear M'SHme, that with respect to this large sum, 
 an understanding might be entered into — or rather 
 an arrangement made, in a quiet way, that would, I 
 flatter myself, turn out of great ultimate advantage 
 to his Lordship. The truth is, that Lord Cumber, 
 like most generous men, is very negligent of his own 
 interests — at least much more so than he ought to 
 be ; and it would be most beneficial to him, in every 
 sense, to have a person managing his estates, in the 
 best possible condition to serve him. His propertyt 
 in fact, is not represented in the grand jury pannel of 
 the county. This is a great loss to him — a serious loss. 
 In the first place, it is wretchedly, shamefully de-
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 157 
 
 ficient in roads — both public and private. In the 
 next place, there are many rents left unpaid, through 
 the inabihty of the people, which we could get paid 
 by the making of these roads, and other county ar- 
 rangements, which the ill thinking call jobs. In the 
 third and last place, he has on his property no ma- 
 gistrate friendly to his aforesaid interests, and who 
 would devote himself to them with suitable energy 
 and zeal. Indeed, with regard to the murmurings 
 and heart-burnings alluded to, I fear that such a 
 magistrate wiU soon become a matter of necessity. 
 There is a bad spirit rising and getting abroad, 
 wherever it came from — and you know, my dear 
 M'Shme, that it could not proceed from either you 
 or me. You know that — you feel it. Now, what 
 I would propose is this — Lord Cumber has sufficient 
 interest with the government, to have me — all un- 
 worthy as I am — appointed a magistrate. Let the 
 government but hint it to the chancellor, and the 
 tiling is done. In that event, instead of giving him 
 this large sum of money as a loan, let it go as a per 
 contra to my appointment to the bench. And there 
 is another consideration by no means to be over- 
 looked, which is, that by this arrangement, the 
 government would be certain to have in the com- 
 mission a man who would prove himself one of the
 
 158 
 
 precise class whicli they stand in need of — that is, 
 a useful man, devoted to their wishes. 
 
 "Now; my dear M'Slime, I mention this to you 
 with all the confidence of unshaken friendship. From 
 you these representations will go to his Lordship 
 with a much better grace than they would from me. 
 Tell him in your own pecuhar way, that he shall 
 have the two thousand for the magistracy. That is 
 my first object as his friend — this once obtained, I 
 have no doubt of seeing myself, ere long, a member 
 of the grand pannel, and capable of serving him still 
 more extensively. 
 
 " Believe me to be, my dear M'Slime, &c. 
 
 " Valentine M'Clutchy." 
 
 P.S. — I heard you once express a wish about a 
 certain farm — but mum's the word — only this, I 
 have something in my eye for you." 
 
 Solomon M' Slime to the Rio-ht Hon. Lord Cumber. 
 
 '' My Gracious Lord, 
 
 *' I, of course, cannot look upon the 
 condition you annex to the appointment of the agent 
 as unreasonable, although my friend M'Clutchy, 
 insists, he says, for the honour of the aristocracy, 
 that it was a mistake on your Lordship's part, and 
 that a loan only was meant. Be this as it may, I
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 159 
 
 humbly hope a thought has been vouchsafed to me, 
 by which the matter may, under Providence, assume 
 a more agreeable character for all parties. Last 
 night, my Lord, immediately after family worship, 
 I found myself much refreshed in mind, but rather 
 jaded in my poor sinful body, after the fatigues of 
 the day — for, indeed, I had ridden a good deal since 
 morning. However, I desired Susanna — a pious 
 young person, who acts as children's maid, and 
 understands my habits — to procure me a little hot 
 water and sugar, into which, out of a necessary re- 
 gard for health, which is imposed as a duty on us all, I 
 poured a little brandy, partly for sustainment and 
 partly to qualify the water. Having swallowed a 
 little of this I found the two principles combine 
 together, almost like kindred spirits, and I conse- 
 quently experienced both nourishment and edification 
 from the draught. It was then, my Lord, that it 
 was given me to turn my mind upon the transaction 
 alluded to, I mean the condition of paying two 
 thousand pounds for the privilege of managing your 
 property. Indeed the thing was vouchsafed to me 
 in this light ; — your property, my Lord, is not 
 represented in the grand panel of the county, which 
 is certainly a serious loss to you, as there is no one 
 here to advocate your interests, especially since poor
 
 160 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 Mr. Deaker's infirmities (would that they were all 
 only of the body !) have caused him to attend the grand 
 jury less frequently. Many arrangements might be 
 advantageously made, by which your Lordship 
 would indirectly benefit; — that is, the money, so to 
 speak, might be made to go into one pocket, in order 
 that it should be transferred to yours. Then you 
 have not a magistrate on your estates devoted to 
 your special interests, as you ought to have ; this is 
 a very necessary thing, my Lord, and to which I 
 humbly endeavour to direct your attention. Again, 
 my Lord, you have no magistrate of true Protestant 
 and Ascendancy principles, who from time to time, 
 might manifest to the government that you did not 
 forget their interests no more than your own. Now, 
 my Lord, what man can be, or is better quahfied to 
 serve your Lordship in all these capacities than that 
 staunch and unflinching Protestant, Mr. Val M'Clut- 
 chy? In what individual could the commission of the 
 peace more appropriately or worthily rest than in 
 your own agent ? I therefore beg your Lordship to 
 turn this in your mind, and if advised by one so 
 humble, I would suggest the trial of a short 
 prayer previous to entering on it. Should you 
 exert your influence for that purpose with the 
 government, the gracious, I trust I may call it so —
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 161 
 
 appointment — would be immediately made, and I 
 think I know the grateful disposition of Mr. M'Clut- 
 chy sufficiently well to assure your Lordship, that 
 from a thorough Christian sense of your kindness, 
 the two thousand pounds will be, on that condition, 
 placed in your Lordship's hands. 
 
 *' I have the honour to be, my Lord, 
 
 " Solomon M'Slime." 
 
 P.S. Mr. M'Clutchy is ignorant that a suggestion 
 
 so well calculated to advance the best interests of 
 
 general religion, has been graciously intimated to 
 
 one so unworthy as I am. 
 
 Lord Cumber to Solomon M' Slime, Esq. 
 " It is done — a bargain — I have arranged the 
 business here with the secretary, and I am obliged 
 to you, my sleek little saint, for suggesting it ; I 
 wonder M'Clutchy himself did not think* of it. I feel 
 glad the old leases have dropped, for I am sure, 
 that between you and him, you will take out of these 
 farms all that can be taken. Of course M'Clutchy 
 and you are at liberty to revive any thing you like, 
 provided it be done properly. What is it to me, who 
 never go there? I do believe Hickman was not 
 merely an easy fellow, but a fool ; as to glove-money — 
 sealing-money — duty-fowls — and duty-work — I tell 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 VALENTINE M^CLUTCHY, 
 
 you again, provided you increase my remittances, and 
 
 work the casli out of these fellows, you may insist 
 
 upon as many of them as you can get. 
 
 '' Yours, 
 
 " Cumber." 
 
 P.S. — \\Tiat, my little saint, did you mean by 
 
 that charitable blunder, concerning the widow, in your 
 
 last letter ? I never knew before that a woman was 
 
 a widow merely because her husband was transported, 
 
 as he ought to be, for sheep stealing, or, because he 
 
 happened to hve, by compulsion, in another country. 
 
 However, no matter ; give her, for me, whatever you 
 
 think proper, and add it to your bill of costs, as you 
 
 will do. 
 
 " Cumber." 
 
 Solomon M'Slime, Esq., to Lord Cumber : — 
 
 My Gracious Lord, 
 
 " As I have never intentionally varied from 
 truth, I could not bear even for a moment to seem 
 to fall into the opposite principle. I was certainly 
 very busy on the day I had the honour and pri- 
 vilege of writing to your Lordship, and much dis- 
 tracted both in mind and heart, by the woeful back- 
 sliding of a member of our congregation. On looking 
 over the copy of the letter, however, I perceive one 
 thftig that is gratifying to me. My Lord, I made no
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 163 
 
 mistake. It is not, perhaps, known to your Lordship 
 that there are two descriptions of widow — the real 
 and the vegetable ; that is, the widow by death, and 
 the widow by local separation from her husband. 
 Indeed the latter is a class that requires as much 
 sustainment and comfort as the other — being as they 
 are, more numerous, and suffering all the privations 
 of widowhood, poor things, except its reahty. The 
 expression, my Lord, is figurative, and taken from 
 the agricultural occupation of ploughing ; for when- 
 ever one animal is unyoked for any other purpose, 
 such as traveUing a journey or the like, the other is 
 forthwith turned into some park or grassy paddock, 
 and indeed generally enjoys more comfortable 
 times than if still with the yoke-fellow ; for which 
 reason the return of the latter is seldom very 
 earnestly desired by the other. I am happy to tell 
 you, my Lord, that some very refreshing revivals in 
 the rehgious world have recently occurred here, 
 such as I trust will cause true rehgion to spread and 
 be honoured in the land ; but on the other hand, I 
 fear that satan is at work among many evil design- 
 ing persons on your Lordship's inheritance in this 
 our neighbourhood. Of this, however, that good and 
 conscientious man Mr. M'Clutchy, will, I doubt not, 
 give you all proper information and advice.
 
 164 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 " I have the honour to be, my Lord, with pro- 
 found humihty, 
 
 " Your Lordship's unworthy Servant, 
 
 " Solomon M'Slime." 
 
 Valentine M'Clutchy, Esq., J. P., to Lord 
 Cumber : — 
 
 " My Lord, 
 
 " In point of fact, nothing could be more 
 beneficial to your property, than my very seasonable 
 appointment to the commission of the peace. It has 
 extended my powers of working for your advantage, 
 and armed me with authority that will be found 
 very necessary in repressing outrages and distur- 
 bances when they occur ; and I regret to say, that 
 they are likely to occur much too frequently. I 
 should be sorry to doubt Mr. Hickman's candour, 
 but in spite of all my charity, I can scarcely avoid 
 thinking that he did not treat your lordship with 
 that openness of purpose and confidence to which 
 every landlord is entitled. Of course, I say this with 
 great pain, and rather between ourselves, as it were ; 
 for heaven forbid, that a single syllable should escape 
 either my tongue or pen that might injure that 
 gentleman's character. The path of duty, however, 
 ii often a stern one, as I find it to be on the present
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 165 
 
 occasion. The truth, then, is, that I fear Mr. Hick- 
 man must have kept the disturbed state of your 
 tenantry from your lordship's knowledge, owing pro- 
 bably to a reluctance in exposing his own laxity of 
 management. Indeed, I wish I could with a con- 
 scientious sense of my duty to your Lordship end 
 here, so far as he is concerned. But under every 
 circumstance, truth, and honesty, and candour, will 
 in the long run tell for themselves. It is an unques- 
 tionable fact, then, that from whatever cause it may 
 proceed, your tenantry and he, ever since my 
 appointment, have had much intercourse of — not 
 exactly a public — nor can I decidedly term it — a 
 private nature ; and it is equally true, that in pro- 
 portion as this intercourse became extended and 
 enlarged, so did the dissatisfaction of the people 
 increase, until they are now almost ripe for outrage. 
 I have observed, I think, that poor Hickman never 
 was remarkable for strength of mind, though not 
 destitute of a certain kind of sagacity ; and whether 
 his tampering — if it be tampering — with these people, 
 — be the result of a foolish principle of envy, or 
 whether on the other hand, there is any thing 
 pohtical in it, I really cannot say. All I can do is 
 to state the facts, and leave the inference to your 
 Lordship's superior penetration.
 
 166 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 If, however, it be the fact, that Hickman could 
 stoop to foment this unhappy feeUng on your pro- 
 perty, still, my Lord, he is not alone in it. Indeed 
 it is possible that the intercourse between him and 
 them may after all be innocent, however, suspicious 
 it looks. I trust and hope it is so — for there are 
 two other families in the neighbourhood who, to my 
 certain knowledge, have by diffusing wicked and 
 disloyal principles among the tenantry, done incalcu- 
 lable injury. I had indeed, some notion of commu- 
 nicating with government on the subject, but I have 
 not as yet been able to get any information suffi- 
 ciently tangible to work on. In the mean time, I 
 think the wisest and most prudent steps I could take 
 for your Lordship's advantage, would be to get them 
 as quietly as possible off the estate. I think, from a 
 twofold sense of duty, I shall be forced to do so. Their 
 leases very fortunately have dropped in the first place, 
 and it will not be your interest to renewthem on politi- 
 cal grounds ; for they have lately expressed a deter- 
 mination to vote against your brother — and in the 
 next, we can get much larger fines from other sources. 
 Besides his large farm, one of these men, M'Loughlin, 
 holds a smaller one of eighteen acres, of which there 
 arc fifteen years yet unexpired ; but on consulting 
 with Mr. M' Slime, and examining the lease, he is of
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 167 
 
 opinion that it contains a flaw, and can be broken. I 
 am sure, my Lord, for your sake, I shall be glad of it. 
 
 I cannot conclude without feeling grateful to heaven 
 for having given me such a son as I am blessed with. 
 He is indeed, quite invaluable to me in managing 
 these refractory people, and were it not for his aid 
 and vigour, I could not have been able to send your 
 Lordship the last remittance. He is truly zealous in 
 your cause, but I regret to say, that I am not likely to 
 be able to avail myself long of his services. He is 
 about taking a large farm in a different part of the 
 country with a view to marriage, a circumstance 
 which just now occasions me much anxiety of mind, 
 as he will be a serious loss to both your Lordship 
 and me. I am also looking out for an under agent, 
 but cannot find one to my satisfaction. Will your 
 Lordship be kind' enough to acknowledge the remit- 
 tance of last week ? 
 
 " I have the honour to be, my Lord, 
 
 '' Val M'C," 
 Lord Cumber to Val M'C, Esq. 
 
 " Dear Sir, 
 
 " The check came safely to hand, and 
 seasonably, and the oftener I receive such communi- 
 cations the better The best part of it, however, is 
 gone to the devil already, for I lost six hundred on
 
 168 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, ETC. 
 
 Alley Croker at the last Ascot meeting ; I write in 
 a hurry, but have time to desire you to keep your 
 son, if possible, on the property. By the way, as 
 the under agency is vacant, I request you will let 
 him have it — and, if he wants a farm to marry on, 
 try and find him one somewhere on the estate : 
 who has a better right ? and, I dare say, he will 
 make as good a tenant as another. As to Hick- 
 man, I think you are quite mistaken, the truth 
 being, that he resigned, but was not dismissed 
 the agency, and if he has not a vrish to get him- 
 self replaced — which I do not think — I don't see 
 what the deuce he should begin to plot about. I 
 rather think the cause of complaint amongst the 
 people is, that they find some difference between his 
 laxity and your rigour ; if so, you must only let 
 them growl away, and whenever they resort to 
 violence, of course punish them. 
 
 *' Very truly yours, 
 
 '' Cumber." 
 p.S. — By all means get those mischievous fellows 
 — I forget their names — off the property, as I shall 
 have no tenant under me who will create disturbance 
 or sow dissention among the people. I thank you 
 for the fine hamper of fowl, and have only to say, 
 as above, that the oftener, &c., &c. 
 
 *' Cumber."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON ABSENTEEISM VIRTUES OF A LOYAL 
 
 MAGISTRATE A SMALL DOSE OF FLATTERY A BRACE 
 
 OF BLESSINGS DARBY HAS NOTIONS OF BECOMING A 
 
 CONVERT HINTS TO A TRUSTY BAILIFF, WITH A BIT 
 
 OF MYSTERY DRUM DHU, AND THE COMFORTS OF 
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE AN EXTERMINATION. 
 
 One of the greatest curses attending absenteeism is 
 the facihty with which a dishonest and oppressive 
 agent can maintain a system of misrepresentation 
 and falsehood, either to screen his own deUnquency, 
 or to destroy the reputation of those whom he hates 
 or fears. An absentee landlord has no guarantee 
 beyond the honour and integrity of the man to whom 
 he entrusts the management of his property, and 
 consequently he ought to know that his very 
 residence abroad presents strong temptations to 
 persons, who, in too many instances, are not pos- 
 sessed of any principle strong enough to compete 
 with their rapacity or cruelty. Valentine M'Clut- 
 chy was one of those fellows in whom the heart was 
 naturally so hard and selfish, that he loved both 
 wealth and the infliction of oppression, simply on 
 account of the pleasure which they afforded him.
 
 170 VALENTINE M'cLUTCHY, 
 
 To such a man, and they formed too numerous a 
 class, the estate of an absentee landlord presented 
 an appropriate, and generally a safe field for action. 
 The great principle of his life was, in every trans- 
 action that occurred, to make the interest of the 
 landlord on one hand, and of the tenant on the other, 
 subservient to his own. This was their rule, and the 
 cunning and adroitness necessary to carry it into 
 practical effect, were sometimes scarcely deemed 
 worth concealment, so strong was their sense of 
 impunity, and their disregard of what seldom took 
 place — retribution. Indeed, the absence of the 
 landlord gave them necessarily, as matters were 
 managed, an unlimited power over the people, 
 and gratified that malignant vigilance which 
 ever attends upon suspicion and conscious guilt. 
 Many of the tenants, for instance, when driven to 
 the uttermost depths of distress and misery, have 
 been desperate enough to appeal to the head land- 
 lords, and almost in every case the agent himself 
 was enabled to show them their own letters, which 
 the absentee had in the mean time transmitted to the 
 identical party whose tyranny had occasioned them. 
 The appointment of Phil to the under agency was 
 felt even more strongly than the removal of Mr. 
 Hickman, or Val's succession to that gentleman ;
 
 THE HUSH AGENT. 171 
 
 for there was about honest Val something which the 
 people could not absolutely despise. His talents 
 for business, however, prostituted as they were to 
 such infamous purposes, only rendered him a greater 
 scourge to the unhappy tenantry over whom he was 
 placed. As for Phil, he experienced at their hands 
 that combined feehng of hatred and contempt with 
 which we look upon a man who has every disposition 
 to villany but the abihty to accomplish its purposes 
 in a masterly manner. 
 
 Val's promotion to the Bench did not occasion so 
 much surprise as might be supposed. It is well 
 known, that every such scoundrel, however he may 
 disregard the opinions of the people whom he de- 
 spises, leaves nothing undone that either mean- 
 ness or ingenuity can accomplish to sustain a plausi- 
 ble character with the gentry of the neighbourhood. 
 In the times of which we write, the great passport 
 to popularity among one party was the expression 
 of strong pohtical opinions. For this reason, Val, 
 who was too cunning to neglect any subordinate aid 
 to his success in hfe, had created for himself a cer- 
 tain description of character, which in a great degree 
 occasioned much of his dishonesty and oppression to be 
 overlooked or forgiven. Like his father, old Dcakcr, 
 he was a furious Orangeman, of the true, loyal, and
 
 172 VALENTINE m'CLUTCHY, \ 
 
 Ascendancy class — drank the glorious, pious, and 1 
 immortal memory every day after dinner — was, in j 
 fact master of an Orange Lodge, and altogether a 
 man of that thorough, staunch, Protestant principle, 
 which was then, as it has been since, prostituted to 
 the worst purposes. For this reason, he was looked i 
 upon by those of his own class not so much as a ! 
 heartless and unscrupulous knave, as a good sound 
 Protestant, whose religion and loyalty were of the j 
 right kidney. In accordance with these principles, ' 
 he lost no time in assuming the character of an active i 
 useful man, who considered it the most important i 
 part of his duty to extend his pohtical opinions by 
 every means in his power, and to discountenance, ; 
 in all shapes and under all circumstances, such^as i 
 were opposed to them. For this purpose, there was j 
 only one object left untried and unaccomplished ; but 
 time and his undoubted loyalty soon enabled him to i 
 achieve it. Not long after liis appointment to the ! 
 agency, he began to experience some of these un- '. 
 easy sensations which a consciousness of not having ] 
 deserved well at the hands of the people will occasion. , 
 The man, as we have said, was a coward at heart ; ^ 
 but, hke many others of the same class, he contrived ; 
 on most occasions, to conceal it. He now considered, J 
 that it would, at all events, be a safe and prudent ^
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 173 
 
 act on his part to raise a corps of yeomanry, secur- 
 ing a commission in it for himself and Phil. In tliis 
 case he deemed it necessary to be able to lay before 
 government such satisfactory proofs, as would ensure 
 the accomphshment of his object, and at the same 
 time estabhsh his own loyalty and devotion to the 
 liigher powers. No man possessed the art of com- 
 bining several motives under the simple guise of one 
 act, with greater skill than M'Clutchy. For in- 
 stance, he had an opportunity of removing from the 
 estate as many as possible of those whom he could 
 not reckon on for political support. Thus would he, 
 in the least suspicious manner, and in the very act 
 of loyalty, occasion that quantity of disturbance 
 just necessary to corroborate his representations to 
 government — free the property from disaffected 
 persons, whose consciences were proof against both 
 his threats and promises — and prove to the world 
 that Valentine M'Clutchy was the man to suppress 
 disturbance, punish offenders, maintain peace, and, 
 in short, exliibit precisely that loyal and truly Pro- 
 testant spirit which the times required, and which, 
 in the end, generally contrived to bring its own re- 
 ward along with it. 
 
 One evening about this period, our worthy agent 
 was sitting in his back parlour, enjoying with Phil
 
 174 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 the comforts of a warm tumbler of punch, when the 
 old knock already described was heard at the hall 
 door. 
 
 " How the devil does that rascal contrive to give 
 such a knock ?" said Phil — " upon my honour and 
 reputation, father, I could know it out of a thou- 
 sand." 
 
 " It's very difficult to say," rephed the other ; 
 " but I agree with you in its character — and yet, I 
 am convinced that Master Darby by no means en- 
 tertains the terror of me which he affects. However, 
 be this as it may, he is invaluable for Ms attach- 
 ment to our interests, and the trust which we can re- 
 pose in him. I intend to make him a sergeant in 
 our new corps — and talking of that, Phil, you are 
 not aware that I received this morning a letter from 
 Lord Cumber, in which he thanks me for the hint, 
 and says he will do everything in his power to for- 
 ward the business. I have proposed that he shall 
 be colonel, and that the corps be named, the Castle 
 Cumber Yeomanry. 1 shall myself be captain and 
 pay-master, and you shall have a slice of something 
 off it, Phil, my boy." 
 
 " I have no objection in hfe," rephed Phil, " and 
 let the slice be a good one ; only I am rather qua- 
 kerly as to actual fighting, which may God of his 
 infinite mercy prevent !"
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 Ill 
 
 " There will be no fighting, my hero," replied 
 the father, laughing; "if there were, Phil, I would 
 myself rise above all claims for military glory ; but 
 here there will be nothing but a healthy chase across 
 the country after an occasional rebel or whiteboy, 
 or perhaps the seizing of a still, and the capture of 
 many a keg of neat poteen, Phil — eh ? what do you 
 say to that, my boy ?" 
 
 " I have no objection to that," said Phil, " pro- 
 vided everything is done in an open, manly manner — 
 in broad day-hght. These scoundrel whiteboys have 
 such devihsh good practice at hedge-firing, that I 
 have already made up my mind to dechne all war- 
 fare that won't be sanctioned by the sun. I believe 
 in my soul they see better without hght than with it, 
 so that the darkness, which would be a protection 
 to them, could be none to me." 
 
 At this moment, a tap — such as a thief would give 
 w^hen ascertaining if the master of the house were 
 asleep, in order that he might rob him — came to the 
 door, and, upon being desired to *' come in and be 
 d d," Darby entered. 
 
 " You're an hour late, you scoundrel," said Val : 
 what have you to say for yourself?" 
 
 " Yes," added Phil, who was a perfect Achilles to 
 every bailiff and driver on the estate — " what have
 
 176 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 you to say for yourself? If I served you right, 
 upon my honour and reputation, I would kick you 
 out. I would, you scoundrel, and I ought." 
 
 " I know you ought, squire, for I desarve it ; but, 
 any how, sure it was the floods that sent me round. 
 The stick was covered above three feet, and I had 
 to go round by the bridge. Throth his honour there 
 ought to make the Grand Jury put a bridge acrass 
 it, and I wish to goodness, Square Phil, you would 
 spake to him to get them to do it next summer." 
 
 When Solomon said, that all was vanity and vexa- 
 tion of spirit, we hope he did not mean that the two 
 terms were at all synonymous ; because, if he did, we 
 unquestionably stand prepared to contest his know- 
 ledge of human nature, despite both his wisdom and 
 experience. \ .Darby's reply was not a long one, but 
 its effect was powerful. The very notion that Val 
 M'Clutchy could, should, might, or ought to have 
 such^influence over the Grand Jury of the county 
 was irresistible with the father ; and that he should 
 hve to be actually called squire, nay, to hear the word 
 vfith liis own ears, was equally so with the son. 
 
 Vanity ! What sensation can the hearts of thou- 
 sands — millions — feel, that ought for a moment be 
 compared, in an ecstatic sense of enjoyment, with 
 those which arise from gratified vanity ?
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 177 
 
 *' Come, you sneaking scoundrel, and take a glass 
 of spirits — the night's severe," said Val. 
 
 "Yes, you sneaking scoundrel, take a glass of 
 spirits, and we'll see what can be done about the 
 bridge before next winter," added Phil. 
 
 " All T can say is, gintlemen," said Darby, that if 
 you both take it up, it ivill be done. In the mane 
 time, here's both your healths, your honours; an' 
 may you both be spared on the property, as a pair 
 of blessins to the estate!" Then, running over to Phil, 
 he whispered in a playhouse voice — " Square Pliil, 
 I daren't let his honour hear me now, but — here's 
 black confusion to Hickman, the desaver !" 
 
 " What is he sayuig, Phil ? What is the cursed 
 sneaking scoundrel saying ?" 
 
 " Why, your honour," interposed Darby, " I was 
 axin' permission jist to add a thrifle to what I'm 
 goin' to drink." 
 
 " What do you mean?" said Val. 
 
 " Just, your honour, to drink the glorious, pious, 
 and immoral mimory ! hip, hip, hurra !" 
 
 " And how can you drink it, you rascal, and you 
 a papist ?" asked Phil, still liighly dehghted with 
 Darby's loyalty. " What would your priests say if 
 they knew of it?" 
 
 "Why," said Darby, quite unconscious of the 
 
 VOL. L N
 
 178 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 testimony he was bearing to his own dupHcity, '*sure 
 they can forgive me that, along with my other sins. 
 But, any how, I have a great notion to lave them 
 and their ralligion altogether." 
 
 "How is that, you scoundrel?" asked Val. 
 
 " Yes, you scoundrel; how is that?" added Phil. 
 
 " Why, troth," replied Darby, " I can't well account 
 for it myself, barrin' it comes from an enhghtened 
 conscience. Mr. M' Slime gave me a tract, some 
 time ago, called Spiritual Food for Babes of Grace, 
 and I thought in my own conscience, afther readin' 
 it carefully over, that it applied very much to my 
 condition." 
 
 " Ah !" said Phil, " what a babe you are ! but no 
 matter ; I'm glad you have notions of becoming a 
 good sound Protestant ; take my word there's no- 
 thing hke it. A man that's a good sound Protes- 
 tant is always a loyal fellow, and when he's drunk, 
 drinks — to hell with the Pope." 
 
 " Phil, don't be a fool," said his father, who in- 
 herited many, if not all of old Deaker's opinions* 
 '' If you are about to become a Protestant, Darby, 
 that's a very different thing from changing your 
 religion — inasmuch as you must have one to change 
 first. However, as you say, M' Slime's your man, 
 and be guided by him."
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 179 
 
 *' So I intend, Sir ; and he has been spakin' to 
 me about comin' forrid pubhckly, in regard of an 
 intention he has of writin' a new tract consarning 
 me, to be called the Converted Bailiff, or a Com- 
 panion to the Religious Attorney ; and he says, Sir, 
 that he'll get us bound up together." 
 
 " Does he ?" said Val, dryly ; " strung up, I sup- 
 pose he means." 
 
 " Troth your honour's right," replied Darby ; 
 *' but my own mimory isn't what it used to be — it 
 was strung up he said, sure enough. Sir." 
 
 "Very well," said Val; "but now to business. 
 Phil, my boy, you move off for a little — Darby and 
 I have a small matter to talk over, that nobody 
 must hear but ourselves." 
 
 " All right," rephed Phil ; " so take care of your- 
 selves ;" and accordingly he left the room. 
 
 Now the truth was, that M'Clutchy, who per- 
 fectly understood the half-witted character of his 
 son — for be it known that worthy Phil was con- 
 sidered, by those who had the honour of his ac- 
 quaintance, as any thing but an oracle — did not feel 
 himself justified in admitting the said Phil to full 
 confidence in all his plans and speculations. 
 
 " You see now," said he, addressing Darby 
 sternly — " you see the opinion which I entertain of
 
 180 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 your honesty, when I trust you more than I do my 
 son." 
 
 " Troth I do, your honour — and by the'same to- 
 ken did I ever betray you ?" 
 
 " Betray, you scoundrel ! what had you to be- 
 tray ?" said Val indignantly, " whatever I do is for 
 the benefit of the country in general, and for Lord 
 Cumber's property in particular : you know that." 
 
 " Know it ! does'nt the whole world know it, 
 Sir ?" 
 
 " Well then" — said Val, softening — " now to 
 business. In the first place, observe my words — 
 hsten." 
 
 Darby said nothing, but looked at him in the atti- 
 tude of deep and breathless attention. 
 
 " Whenever you happen to execute a warrant of 
 distress — that is, when removing furniture or any 
 other property off the premises, keep a sharp look 
 out for any papers or parchments that may happen 
 to come in your way. It will do no harm if you 
 should slip them quietly into your pocket and bring 
 them to me. I say quietly, because there is a spirit 
 abroad among the people that we must watch ; but 
 if they once suspected that we were on the look out 
 for it, they might baffle us ; these papers, you know, 
 can be returned."
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 181 
 
 " I see, your honour," said Darby — " there you 
 are right, as, indeed, you always are." 
 
 " Very well then. Is the night dark and stormy?" 
 " So dark. Sir, that a blind man could see it." 
 Val then approached the bailiff, looked cautiously 
 about the room — opened the door, and peeped into 
 the hall ; after which he returned, and placing about 
 half-a-dozen written papers in his hand, wliispered 
 sometliing to him with great earnestness and dehbe- 
 ration. Darby heard him with profound attention, 
 nodded his head significantly as he spoke, and placed 
 the point of his right hand fore-finger on the papers, 
 as if he said, " I see — I understand — I am to do so 
 and so with these ; it's all clear — all right, and it shall 
 be done before I sleep." 
 
 The conversation then fell into its original chan- 
 nel, and Phil was summoned, in order to receive his 
 instructions touching a ceremony which was to take 
 place on the following day but one ; which ceremony 
 simply consisted in turning out upon the wide world, 
 without house, or home, or shelter, about twenty- 
 three famiUes, containing among them the young, 
 the aged, the sick, and the dying — but this is a 
 scene to which we must beg the reader's more par- 
 ticular attention. 
 
 There stood, facing the west, about two miles from
 
 182 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 Constitution Cottage, an irregular string of cabins, 
 with here and there something that might approach 
 the comfortable air of a middle sized farm house. 
 The soil on which they stood was an elevated moor, 
 studded with rocks and small cultivated patches, 
 which the hard hand of labour had, with toil and 
 difficulty, won from what might otherwise be called 
 a cold, bleak, desert. The rocks in several instances 
 were overgrown with underwood and shrubs of 
 different descriptions, which were browsed upon by 
 meagre and hungry looking goats, the only descrip- 
 tion of cattle that the poverty of these poor people 
 allowed them to keep, with the exception of two or 
 three families, who were able to indulge in the 
 luxury of a cow. In winter it had an air of sliivering 
 desolation that was enough to chill the very blood 
 even to think of, but in summer, the greenness of the 
 shrubs, some of which were aromatic and fragrant, 
 reheved the dark depressing spirit which seemed to 
 brood upon it. This little colony, notwithstanding 
 the wretchedness of its appearance, was not, how- 
 ever, shut out from a share of human happiness. 
 The manners of its inhabitants were primeval and 
 simple, and if their enjoyments were few and hmited, 
 so also were their desires. God gave them the 
 summer breeze to purify their blood, the sun of
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 183 
 
 heaven to irradiate the bleakness of their mountains, 
 the morning and the evening dressed in all their 
 beauty, the musio of their mountain streams, and 
 that of the feathered songsters, to enliven their souls 
 with its melody. The voices of spring, of summer, 
 of autumn, were cheerful in their ears as the voices 
 of friends, and even winter, with all his wildness and 
 •desolation, was not without a grim complacence which 
 they loved. They were a poor, harmless, Uttle 
 community, so very humble *and inoffensive, as to be 
 absolutely beneath the reach of human resentment 
 or injustice. Alas ! they were not so. 
 
 The cause of the oppression which was now about 
 to place them in its iron grasp, was as simple as it 
 was iniquitous. They refused to vote for Lord 
 Cumber's brother, and were independent enough to 
 respect the rights of conscience, in defiance of 
 M'Clutchy's denunciations. They had voted for the 
 gentleman who gave them employment, and who 
 happened besides, to entertain opinions wliich they 
 approved. M'Clutchy's object was to remove them 
 from the property, in order that he might replace them 
 with a more obedient and less conscientious class ; 
 for this was his principle of action under such cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 It so happened that there lived among them a man
 
 184 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 named O'Regan, who, in point of comfort, was at 
 the head of this httle community. He was a quiet 
 and an affectionate individual, industrious, sober, and 
 every way well conducted. This inoffensive and 
 virtuous man, and his faithful wife, had been for 
 some time before the period we are describing, 
 under the shadow of deep affliction. Their second 
 child, and his little brother, together with the 
 eldest, who for two or three years before had been 
 at service in England, were all that had been 
 spared to them — the rest having died young. 
 This second boy was named Torley, and him 
 they loved with an excess of tenderness and af- 
 fection that could scarcely be blamed. The boy 
 was handsome and manly, full of feeling, and 
 possessed of great resolution and courage ; all this, 
 however, was ultimately of no avail in adding to the 
 span of the poor youth's life. One day in the 
 beginning of autumn, he overloaded himself with a 
 log of fir which he had found in the moors ; having 
 laid it down to rest, he broke a blood vessel in 
 attempting to raise it to his shoulder the second 
 time : he staggered home, related the accident as it 
 had occurred, and laid himself down gently upon his 
 bed. Decline then set in, and the handsome and
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 185 
 
 high spirited Torley O'Regan, lay patiently await- 
 ing his dissolution, his languid eye dim with the 
 shadow of its approach. From the moment it was 
 ascertained that his death, early and unexpected, 
 was known to be certain, the grief of his parents 
 transcended the bounds of ordinary sorrow. It was 
 indeed, a distressing thing to witness their sufferings, 
 and to feel, in the innermost chambers of your heart, 
 the awful wail of their desolation and despair. 
 
 Winter had now arrived in all its severity, and the 
 very day selected for the removal of these poor 
 people was that which fills, or was designed to fill, 
 every Christian heart with hope, charity, affection 
 for our kind, and the innocent enjoyment of that 
 festive spirit which gives to the season a charm that 
 throws the memory back upon the sweetest recollec- 
 tions of life — I mean Christmas eve. The morning, 
 however, was ushered in by storm. There had been 
 above a fortnight's snow, accompanied by hard frost, 
 and to this was added now the force of a piercing 
 wind, and a tremendous down pouring of hard dry 
 drift, against which it is at any time almost impos- 
 sible even to walk, unless when supported by health, 
 youth, and uncommon strength. 
 
 In O'Regan's house there was, indeed, the terrible 
 union of a most bitter and two-fold misery. The
 
 186 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, * 
 
 boy was literally dying, and to this was added the \ 
 
 consciousness that M'Clutchy would work his way j 
 
 in spite of storm, tempest, and sickness, nay, even | 
 
 death itself. A few of the inhabitants of this wild ■ 
 
 mountain village, which, by the way, was named , 
 Drum Dhu, from its black and desolate look, had 
 
 too much the fear of M'Clutchy before their eyes, J 
 to await his measures, and accordingly sought out 
 
 some other shelter. It was said, however, and ; 
 
 generally supposed, by several of the neighbouring ; 
 gentry, that even M'Clutchy himself would scarcely 
 dare to take such a step, in defiance of common 
 
 humanity, pubhc opinion, and the laws both of God . 
 
 and — we were about to add — man, but the word j 
 
 cannot be written. Every step he took was strictly j 
 
 and perfectly legal, and the consequence was, that , 
 
 he had that strong argument, " / am supported by \ 
 
 the laws of the land/' to enable liim to trample upon ' 
 
 all the principles of humanity and justice — to gratify j 
 
 political rancour, personal hatred, to oppress, per- i 
 
 sccute, and ruin. j 
 
 Removal, however, in Torley O'Regan's case, j 
 
 would have been instant death. Motion or effort of \ 
 
 any kind were strictly forbidden, as was conversation, J 
 
 except in the calmest and lowest tones, and every i 
 
 thing at all approaching to excitement. Still the ;
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 187 
 
 terror lest tliis inhuman agent might carry his reso- 
 lution into effect on such a day, and under such cir- 
 cumstances, gave to their pitiable sense of his loss a 
 dark and deadly hue of misery, at which the heart 
 actually sickens. From the hour of nine o'clock on 
 that ominous morning, the inhabitants of Drum Dhu 
 were passing, despite the storm, from cabin to cabin, 
 discussing the probable events of the day, and asking- 
 each other if it could be possible that M'Clutchy 
 would turn them out under such a tempest. Nor 
 was this all. The scene indeed was one which ought 
 never to be witnessed in any country. Misery in 
 all its shapes was there — suffering in its severest 
 pangs — sickness — disease — famine — and death — to 
 all wliich was to be added bleak, houseless, homeless, 
 roofless desolation. Had the season been summer 
 they might have slept in the fields, made themselves 
 temporary sheds, or carried their sick, and aged, 
 and helpless, to distant places, where humanity 
 might aid and reUeve them. But no — here were 
 the elememts of God, as it were, called in by the 
 mahgnity and wickedness of man to war against old 
 age, infancy, and disease. 
 
 For a day or two preceding this, poor Torley 
 thought he felt a little better, that is to say, his 
 usual symptoms of suffering were mitigated, as is
 
 188 VALENTINE M^CLUTCHY, 
 
 sometimes the case where human weakness Hterally 
 sinks below the reach of pain itself. Ten o'clock 
 had arrived and he had not yet awoke, having only 
 fallen asleep a little before day break. His father 
 went to his bed-side, and looking down saw that he 
 was still asleep, with a peaceful smile irradiating his 
 features, as it were with a sense of inward happiness 
 and tranquillity. He beckoned to his mother who 
 approached the bed, and contemplated him with that 
 tearless agony which sears the heart and brain, 
 until the feeling would be gladly exchanged for 
 madness. The conversation which followed was in 
 Irish, a circumstance that accounts for its figurative 
 style and tenderness of expression. 
 "AVhatisthat smile," said the father. 
 " It's the peace of God," said the mother, " shining 
 from an innocent and happy heart. Oh ! Torley', 
 my son, my son !" 
 
 " Yes," rephed the father, " he is going to meet 
 happy hearts, but he will leave none in this house 
 behind him — even little Brian that he loved so well — 
 but where was there a heart so loving as his ?" This, 
 we need scarcely observe, was all said in wliispers. 
 "Ah!" said liis mother, "you may weU ask — 
 but don't you remember tliis day week, when we 
 were talking of M'Clutchy" — ' I hope,' says he,
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 189 
 
 ' that if he should come, Fll be where no agent can 
 turn me out — that is, in heaven — for I wouldn't 
 wish to Hve to see you both and httle Brian put from 
 the place that we all loved so well' — and then he 
 wiped away the tears from his pale cheeks. — " Oh ! 
 Torley, my son — my son — are you laving us ! — 
 laving us for ever ?" 
 
 The father sat down quietly on a chair, and put 
 his hand upon his forehead, as if to keep the upper 
 part of his head from flying off — for such he said, 
 were the sensations he felt. He then wrung his 
 hands until the joints cracked, and gave one short 
 convulsive sob, which no effort of his could repress. 
 The boy soon afterwards opened his eyes, and fixed 
 them with the same peaceful and affectionate smile 
 upon his parents. 
 
 " Torley," said his mother, kissing him, " how do 
 you feel, our flower ?" 
 
 " Aisier," said he, " but I tliink weaker — I had a 
 dream," he continued ; '' I thought I was looking in 
 through a great gate at the most beautiful place that 
 ever was — and I said to myself, what country can 
 that be, that's so full of hght, and music, and green 
 trees, and beautiful rivers ?' ' That is heaven,' said 
 a sweet voice beside me, but I could see no one. I 
 looked again, and then I thought I saw my three httle
 
 190 VALENTINE M*CLUTCHY, 
 
 brothers standin' inside the gate smilin' — and I said, 
 'aren't you my brothers that died when you were 
 young ?' ' Yes,' said they, ' and we are come to wel- 
 come you here.' I then was goin' to go in, when I 
 thought I saw my father and httle Brian runnin' 
 hand in hand towards the gate, and as I was goin' 
 in, 1 thought they called after me — ' wait, Torley 
 dear, for we will follow you soon.' " 
 
 " And I hoj^e we all will, our blessed treasure ; 
 for when you lave us, son of our hearts, what tempta- 
 tion will we have to stay afther you? Your voice, 
 achora, will be in our ears, and your sweet looks in 
 our eyes — but that is all that will be left of you — and 
 your father and I will never have a day's happiness 
 more. Oh, never — never !" 
 
 " You both know I wouldn't lave you if I could 
 help it, but it's the will of God that I should go ; 
 then when I'll be so happy, won't it take the edge 
 off your grief. Bring Brian here. He and I were 
 all that was left you, since Ned went to England 
 — and now you will have only him. I needn't 
 bid you to love him, for I know that you loved 
 both of us, may be more than you ought, or 
 more than I desarved ; but not surely more than 
 Brian does. Brian, my darling, come and kiss your 
 own Torley that kept you sleeping every night in
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 191 
 
 his bosom, and never was properly happy without 
 you — kiss me when I can feel you, for I know that 
 before long, you will kiss me when I can't kiss you — 
 Brian, my darling life, how loth I am to lave you, 
 and to lave you all, father — to lave you all, mother." 
 
 As he spoke, and paused from time to time, the 
 tumult of the storm without, and the fury with which 
 it swept against the roof, door, and windows of the 
 house, made a terrible diapason to the sweet and 
 affecting tone of feehng which pervaded the remarks 
 of the dying boy. His father, however, who felt an 
 irrepressible dread of what was expected to take 
 place, started at the close of the last words, and with 
 a heart divided between the two terrors, stood in 
 that stupefaction which is only the resting place of 
 misery, where it takes breath and strengthens itself 
 for its greatest trials. He stood with one hand as 
 before, pressed upon his forehead, and pointed 
 with the other to the door. The wife, too, paused, 
 for she could not doubt for a moment, that she heard 
 sounds mingling with those of the storm wliich 
 belono-ed not to it. It ivas Christmas eve ! 
 
 " Stop, Mary, " said he, the very current of his 
 heart stilled — its beating pulses frozen, as it were, 
 by the terrible apprehension — "stop, Mary; you 
 can open the door, but in such a morning as this you
 
 192 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 couldn't shut it, and the wind and drift would come 
 in and fill the house, and be the death of our boy. 
 No, I must open the door myself, and it will require 
 all my strength to shut it." 
 
 " I hear it all now," said Torley, " the cries and 
 
 the shouting, the screechings and the well, you 
 
 need not be afeared ; put poor Brian in with me, for 
 I know there is no Irishman but will respect a death- 
 bed, be it landlord, or agent — ay, or bailey. Oh, 
 no, father, the hand of G od is upon us, and if they 
 respect nothing else, they will surely respect that. 
 They won't move me, mother, when they see me ; 
 for that would kill me — that would be to murder a 
 dying man." 
 
 The father made no reply, but rushed towards the 
 door, which he opened and closed after him with 
 more ease than he had expected. The storm, in 
 fact, was subsiding ; the small, hard drift had ceased, 
 and it was evident from the appearance of the sky 
 that there was likely to be a change for the better. 
 
 It would, indeed, appear, as if the Divine Being 
 actually restrained and checked the elements, on 
 witnessing the cruel, heartless, and oppressive pur- 
 poses of man. But, what a scene presented itself to 
 O'Regan, on going forth to witness the proceedings 
 which were then about to take place on this woeful 
 day!
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 193 
 
 Entering the northern end of this wild collectioa 
 of sheehngs was seen a posse of baiUffs, di'ivers, con- 
 stables, keepers, and all that hard-hearted class of 
 ruffians that constitute the staff of a land agent upon 
 occasions similar to this. Immediately behind these 
 followed a body of Orange yeomanry, dressed in regi- 
 mentals, and with fire-arms — each man carrying tliirty 
 rounds of ball cartridge. We say Orange yeomen 
 advisedly, because at the period we speak of Roman 
 Catholics were not admitted into the yeomanry, un- 
 less, perhaps, one in a corps ; and even out of ten 
 corps, perhaps, you might not find the ten excep- 
 tions. When we add to this the fact, that every Pro- 
 testant young man was then an Orangeman, and 
 that a strong, relentless feeling of religious and 
 pohtical hatred subsisted between them and the 
 Cathohc party, we think that there are few, 
 even among our strongest Conservatives, if any, 
 who would attempt to defend the inhuman policy 
 of allowing one party of Irishmen, stimulated by 
 the worst passions, to be let loose thus armed upon 
 defenceless men, whom, besides, they looked upon 
 and treated as enemies. 
 
 The men in question, who were known by the 
 soubriquet of Deaker's Dashers, were, in point of 
 fact, the terror of every one in the country who was 
 
 VOL. I, o
 
 194 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 not an Orangeman, no matter what his creed or 
 conduct might be. They were to a man guided by 
 the true Tory principle, not only of supporting Pro- 
 testantism, but of putting down Popery ; and yet, 
 with singular inconsistency, they were seldom or 
 never seen within a church door, all their religion 
 consisting in giving violent and offensive toasts, and 
 their loyalty in playing party tunes, singing Orange 
 songs, meeting in Orange lodges, and executing the 
 will of some such oppressor as M'Clutchy, who was 
 by no means an exaggerated specimen of the Orange 
 Tory. 
 
 Deaker's Dashers were commanded on this occa- 
 sion by a little squat figure, all belly, with a short 
 pair of legs at one end, and a little red, fiery face, 
 that looked as if it would explode — at the other. 
 The figure was mounted on horseback, and as it and 
 its party gallantly entered this city of cabins, it 
 clapped its hand on its side, to impress the enemy, 
 no doubt, with a due sense of its military character 
 and prowess. Behind the whole procession, at a 
 little distance, rode M'Clutchy and M' Slime, grace- 
 ful Phil having declined the honour of the expedition 
 altogether, principally, he said, in consequence of the 
 shortness of the days, and the consequent very sudden 
 approach of night. We cannot omit to state, that 
 Darby O'Drive was full of consequence and import-
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. ' 195 
 
 ance, and led on his followers, with a roll of paper 
 containing a Hst of all those who were to be expelled, 
 rolled up in his hand, somewhat like a baton of 
 office. Opposed to this display stood a crowd of poor 
 shivering wretches, with all the marks of poverty 
 and struggle, and, in many cases, of famine and 
 extreme destitution, about them and upon them. 
 Women with their half starved children in their 
 arms, many of them without shoes or stockings — 
 labouring care-worn men, their heads bound up in 
 cotton handkerchiefs, as intimating illness or recovery 
 from illness — old men bent over their staves, some 
 with long white hair, streaming to the breeze, and 
 all with haggard looks of terror, produced by the 
 well known presence among them of Deaker's 
 Dashers. 
 
 And this was Christmas eve — a time of joy and 
 festivity ! 
 
 Other features were also presented, which gave 
 to this miserable scene a still more depressing 
 character. The voice of lamentation was loud, es- 
 pecially from the females, both young and old — all 
 of whom, with some exceptions, were in tears. Many 
 were rending their hair, others clapping their 
 hands in distraction — some were kneeling to heaven 
 to implore its protection, and not a few to call down
 
 196 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 its vengeance upon their oppressors. From many 
 of the men, especially the young and healthy, came 
 stifled curses, and smothered determinations of deep 
 and fearful vengeance. Brows darkened, eyes 
 gleamed, and teeth were ground with a spirit that 
 could neither he mistaken nor scarcely condemned. 
 M'Clutchy was then sowing the wind ; but whether 
 at a future day to reap the whirlwind, we are not 
 now prepared to state. 
 
 At length it was deemed time that the ceremony 
 should commence ; and M'Clutchy, armed also with 
 a case of pistols rode up to Darby : — 
 
 '' O' Drive, you scoundrel," he shouted — for he 
 saw his enemy, and got courageous, especially since 
 he had a body of his father's Dashers at his back — 
 " O'Drive, you scoundrel, do you mean to keep us 
 here all day ? Why don't you commence ? Whose 
 is the first name on your hst ? The ejectment 
 must proceed," he added, addressing the poor people 
 as much as Darby — " it must proceed. Every thing 
 we do is by Lord Cumber's orders, and strictly 
 according to the law of the land. Every attempt at 
 refusing to give up peaceable possession, makes you 
 liable to be punished ; and punished, by h — n, you 
 shall be." 
 
 " Do not swear, my dear friend," interposed
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 197 
 
 M'Slime; "swear not at all; but let thy yea be 
 yea, and thy nay, nay ; for whatsoever is more than 
 this cometh of evil. My good friends," he added, 
 addressing himself to the people, " I could not feel 
 justified in losing this opportunity to throw in a word 
 in season for your sakes. I need scarcely tell you 
 that Mr.M'Clutchy, whose character for benevolence 
 and humanity is perfectly well known — and I would 
 allude to his strong sense of religion, and its prac- 
 tical influence on his conduct, were I not afraid of 
 giving rise to a feehng of spiritual pride in the heart 
 of any fellow-creature, however humble ; — I need not 
 tell you, I say, that he and I are here as your true 
 friends. I, a frail and unworthy sinner, avow myself as 
 your friend ; at least it is the most anxious and sin- 
 cere wish of my heart to do good to you ; for, I 
 trust I can honestly say, that I love my Catholic — 
 I mean my Roman Catholic friends, and desire to 
 meet them in the bonds of Christ. Yes, we are your 
 friends. You know it is true that God loveth whom 
 he chasteneth, and that it is always good to pass 
 through the furnace of tribulation. What are we, 
 then, but the instruments of His chastisement of you, 
 and of bringing you through that furnace for your 
 own good and for His honour ! Be truly grateful, 
 then, for this instance of His interposition in your
 
 198 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 favour. It is only a blessing in disguise, my friends 
 — strongly disguised, I grant you — but still a bless- 
 ing. And now, my friends, to provis my own sin- 
 cerity — my affectionate, and, I trust, Christian in- 
 terest in your welfare, I say unto you, that if such 
 among you as lack bread will come to me, when this 
 dispensation in your favour is concluded, I shall give 
 them that which will truly nourish them." 
 
 M'Clutchy could not stand this, but went down 
 to the little squab Dasher, who joined him in a loud 
 fit of laughter at M'Shme's little word in season ; 
 so that the poor dismayed people had the bitter re- 
 flection to add to their other convictions, that their 
 misery, their cares, and their sorrows, were made a 
 mockery of by those who were actually mflicting 
 them. 
 
 When Darby, on whose face there was a heart- 
 less smirk of satisfaction at this opportunity of grati- 
 fying M'Clutchy, was about to enter the first cabin, 
 there arose from the trembhng creatures a loud 
 murmur of wild and unregulated lamentation, which 
 actually startled the bailiffs, who looked as if they 
 were about to be assaulted. An old man then 
 approached M'Clutchy, bent with age and infirmity, 
 and whose white hair hung far down his shoulders — 
 
 " Sir," said he, taking off his hat, and standing
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 199 
 
 before him uncovered, severe and still bitter as was 
 the day — " I stand here in the name of these poor 
 creatures you see about us, to beg you, for the sake of 
 God — of Christ who redeemed us — and of the Holy 
 Spirit that gives kindness and charity to the heart 
 — not on this blake liill, undher sich a sky, and on 
 sich a day, to turn us out of the only shelter we 
 have on earth ! There's people here that will die if 
 they're brought outside the door. We did not, at 
 laist the most part of all you see before you, think 
 you had any thought of houldin' good your threat 
 in such a time of cowld, and storm, and disolation. 
 Look at us, Sir, then, and have pity on us ! Make 
 it your own case, if you can, and maybe that will 
 bring our distitution nearer you — and besides, Sir, 
 there's a great number of us that thought betther 
 about votin' with you, and surely you won't think of 
 puttin' them out." 
 
 " It's too late now," said M'Clutchy ; '* if you had 
 promised me your votes in time, it was not my in- 
 tention to have disturbed you — at present I am 
 acting altogether by Lord Cumber's orders, who 
 desires that every one refusing to vote for him shall 
 be made an example of, and removed from the 
 property — O'Drive, you scoundrel, do your duty." 
 
 At this moment there rushed forth from the again
 
 200 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 agitated crowd an old woman, whose grizzled locks 
 had escaped from under her dowd cap, and were 
 blown in confusion about her head ; she wore a 
 drugget gown that had once been yellow, and a deep 
 blue petticoat of the same stuff; a circumstance, 
 which, joined to the excitement, gave to her appear- 
 ance a good deal of picturesque effect. 
 
 " Low born tyrant," she shouted, kneeling rapidly 
 down and holding up her clasped hands, but not in 
 supplication — "low born tyrant," she shouted, "stop; 
 — spawn of blasphemin' Deaker, stop — bastard of the 
 notorious Kate Clank, hould your hand ! You see 
 we know you and yours well. You were a bad 
 son to a bad mother, and the curse of God will 
 pursue you and yours, for that and your other 
 villanies. Go back and hould your hand, I say — 
 and don't dare to bring the vengeance of God upon 
 you, for the plot of hell you are about to work out 
 this day. I know that plot. Be warned. Look about 
 you here, and think of what you're going to do. 
 Have you no feeling for ould and helpless age — for 
 the weakness of women, the innocence of children ? 
 Are you not afraid on such a day to come near the 
 bed of sickness, or the bed of death, with such an 
 intention ? Here's widows and orphans, the sick 
 and the dyin', ould age half dead, and infancy half
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 201 
 
 starved; and is it upon these, that you and blas- 
 phemin' Deaker's bloody Dashers are goin' to work 
 your will ! Hould your hand, I say, or if you don't, 
 although I needn't curse you myself, for I am too 
 wicked for that — yet in the name of all these harmless 
 and helpless creatures before you, I call their curses 
 on your head ! In the name of all the care, and 
 pain, and sorrow, and starvation, and affliction, 
 that's now before your eyes, be you cursed in soul 
 and body — in all you touch — in all you love — cursed 
 here, and cursed hereafter for ever, if you proceed 
 in your wicked intention this woful day !" 
 
 " Who is that mad-woman ?" said M'Clutchy. 
 " Let her be removed. All I can say is, that she has 
 taken a very unsuccessful method of staying the 
 proceedings," 
 
 " Who am I ?" said she ; " I will tell you that. 
 Look at this," she rephed, " exposing her bosom ; 
 these are the breasts that suckled you — between 
 them did you often he, you ungrateful viper ! Yes, 
 you may stare — It's many a long year since the 
 name of Kate Clank reached your ears, and now 
 that you have heard it, it is not to bless you. Well 
 you remember when you heard it last — on the day 
 you hunted your dogs at me, and threatened to 
 have me horse-whipped — ay, to horse-whip me with
 
 202 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 your own hands, should I ever come near your 
 cursed house. Now, you know who I am, and now 
 I have kept my word, which was never to die till I 
 gave you a shamed face. Kate Clank, your mother, 
 is before you !" 
 
 M'Clutchy took the matter very cool certainly — 
 laughed at her, and in a voice of thunder desired 
 the ejectments to proceed. 
 
 But how shall we dwell upon this miserable work ? 
 The wailings and screams, the sohcitations for mercy, 
 their prayers, their imprecations and promises, were 
 all sternly disregarded ; and on went the justice of 
 law, accompanied by the tumult of misery. The old 
 were dragged out — the bedrid grandmother had her 
 couch of straw taken from under her. From the house 
 of death, the corpse of an aged female was carried 
 out amidst the shrieks and imprecations of both men 
 and women ! The sick cliild that clung with faint- 
 ness to the bosom of its distracted mother, was put 
 out under the freezing blast of the north ; and on, 
 on, onward, from house to house, went the steps of 
 law, accompanied still by the increasing tumult of 
 misery. This was upon Christmas eve — a day of 
 joy and festivity ! 
 
 At length they reached O'Regan's, and it is not 
 our intention to describe the occurrence at any
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 203 
 
 length. It could not be done. O'Regan clasped his 
 hands, so did his wife ; they knelt — they wept — they 
 supphcated. They stated the nature of his malady — 
 decline — from having ruptured a blood vessel. They 
 ran to M'Clutchy, to M'Shme, to the squat figure 
 on horseback. They prayed to Darby, and espe- 
 cially intreated a ruffian follower who had been 
 remarkable for, and wanton in, liis inhumanity, but 
 with no effect. Darby shook his head. 
 
 " It couldn't be done," said he. 
 
 " No," rephed the other, whose name was Grimes, 
 *' we can't make any differ between one and another 
 — so out he goes." 
 
 " Father," observed the meek boy, " let them. I 
 will only be the sooner in heaven." 
 
 He was placed sitting up in bed by the baihffs, 
 trembhng in the cold rush of the blast ; but the 
 moment their father saw their polluted and sacrile- 
 gious hands upon him — he rushed forward accom- 
 panied by his mother. 
 
 " Stay," said he in a loud hoarse voice ; " since 
 you will have him out, let our hands, not yours, be 
 upon him." 
 
 The ruffian told him they could not stand there 
 all day, and without any further respect for their 
 feelings, they rudely wrapped the bed-clothes about
 
 204 VALENTNE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 him and, carrying him out, he was placed upon a 
 chair before the door. His parents were imme- 
 diately beside him and took him now into their own 
 care ; but it was too late — he smiled as he looked 
 into their faces, then looked at his little brother, 
 and giving one long drawn sigh, he passed, without 
 pain or suffering, saving a slight shudder, into hap- 
 piness. O' Regan when he saw that his noble and 
 beloved boy was gone, surrendered him into the 
 keeping of his wife and other friends, who prevented 
 his body from falhng off the chair. He then bent 
 his eye sternly upon the group of baihffs, espe- 
 cially upon the rude ruffian, Grimes, whose conduct 
 was so atrocious. 
 
 " Now hsten," said he kneeling down beside his 
 dead son — " hsten all of you that has wrought this 
 murder of my dying boy ! He is yet warm," he 
 added, grinding his teeth and looking up to heaven, 
 "and here beside him, I pray, that the gates of mercy 
 may be closed upon my soul through all eternity, if 
 I die without vengeance for your death, my son !" 
 
 His mother, who was now in a state between 
 stupor and distraction, exclaimed — 
 
 " To be sure, darhng, and I'll assist you, and 
 so will Torley." 
 
 The death of this boy, under circumstances of
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 205 
 
 such incredible cruelty, occasioned even M*Clutchy 
 to relax something of his original intentions. He 
 persisted, however, in accomphshing all the eject- 
 ments without exception, but when this was over, 
 he allowed them to re-occupy their miserable cabins, 
 until the weather should get milder, and until such 
 of them as could, might be able to procure somo 
 other shelter for themselves and families. 
 
 When all was over, M'SHme, who had brought 
 with him a sheaf of tracts for their spiritual suste- 
 nance, saw, from the deeply tragic character of the 
 proceedings, that he might spare himself the trouble 
 of such Christian sympathy as he wished to mariifest 
 for their salvation. He and M'Clutchy, to whom, 
 by the way, he presented the truly spiritual suste- 
 nance of some good brandy out of a flask, with 
 which he balanced the tracts in his other pocket, 
 then took their way in the very centre of the Dashers, 
 leaving behind them all those sorrows of life, for 
 which, however, they might well be glad to exchange 
 their consciences and their wealth. 
 
 The circumstances which we have just described, 
 were too striking not to excite considerable indigna- 
 tion amonof all reasonable minds at the time. An 
 account of that day's proceedings got into the papers, 
 but was so promptly and fully contrachcted by the 
 
 VOL. I. * O
 
 206 VA1.3XT1NE m'clutcjiy, 
 
 united testimony of M'Clutchy and M' Slime, that 
 the matter was made to appear very highly com- 
 plimentary to the benevolence and humanity of both. 
 " So far from the proceedings in question," the 
 contradiction went on to say, " being marked by the 
 wanton cruelty and inhumanity imputed to them, 
 they were, on the contrary, as remarkable for the 
 kindness and forbearance evinced by Messrs. M'Clut- 
 chy and M' Slime. The whole thing was a mere 
 legal form, conducted in a most benevolent and 
 Christian spirit. The people were all restored to 
 their tenements the moment the business of the day 
 was concluded, and we cannot readily forget the 
 admirable advice and exhortation offered to them, 
 and so appropriately offered, by Solomon M' Slime, 
 Esq., the truly Christian and benevolent law agent 
 of the property in question." 
 
 By these proceedings, however, M'Clutchy had 
 gained his point, which was, under the. guise of a 
 zealous course of public duty, to create a basis on 
 which to ground his private representations of the 
 state of the country to government. He accord- 
 ingly lost no time in communicating on the sub- 
 ject with Lord Cumber, who at once supported 
 him in the project of raising a body of cavalry for 
 the better security of the public peace ; as, indeed, it 
 was his interest to do, in as much, as it advanced his
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 207 
 
 own importance in the eye of government quite as 
 much as it did M'Clutchy's. A strong case was, 
 therefore made out by this plausible intriguer. In 
 a few days after the affair of Drum Dhu, honest 
 Val contrived to receive secret information of the 
 existence of certain illegal papers which clearly 
 showed that there existed a wide and still spread- 
 ing conspiracy in the country. As yet, he said, he 
 could not ground any proceeding of a definite cha- 
 racter upon them. 
 
 The information, he proceeded to say, when writ- 
 ing to the Castle, which came to him anonymously, 
 was to the effect that by secretly searching the eves 
 of certain houses specified in the communication 
 received, he would find documents, clearly corrobo- 
 rating the existence and design of the conspiracy 
 just alluded to. That he had accordingly done so, 
 and, to his utter surprise, found that liis anonymous 
 informant was right. He begged to enclose copies 
 of the papers, together with the names of the 
 families residing in the houses where they were 
 found. He did not hke, indeed, to be called a " Con- 
 spiracy hunter," as no man more deprecated their 
 existence ; but he was so devotedly attached to the 
 interests of his revered sovereign, and those of his 
 government, that no matter at what risk citlier of
 
 208 VALENTNE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 person or reputation, he would never shrink from 
 
 avowing or manifesting that attachment to them. 
 
 And he had the honour to be, his very obedient 
 
 servant, 
 
 Valentine M'Clutchy, J. P. 
 
 P.S — He begged to enclose for his perusal a let- 
 ter from his warm friend, Lord Cumber, on the ne- 
 cessity, as he properly terms it, of getting up a 
 corps of cavalry, which is, indeed, a second thought, 
 as they would be much better adapted, upon long 
 pursuits, and under pressing circumstances, for 
 scowering the country, which is now so dreadfully 
 disturbed. And has once more the honour to be, 
 
 Val. M'C. 
 
 Representations like these, aided by that most 
 foohsh and besotted tendency which so many of the 
 ignorant and uneducated peasantry have, of enter- 
 ing into such associations, did not fail in working out 
 M'Clutchy 's designs. Most of those in whose houses 
 these papers were placed, fled the country, among 
 whom was O'Regan, whose dying son Deaker's 
 Dashers treated with such indefensible barbarity ; 
 and what made every thing appear to fall in with his 
 good fortune, it was much about this period that 
 Grimes, the unfeehng man whom O'Regan appeared 
 to have in his eye when he uttered such an awful vow
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 209 
 
 of vengeance, was found murdered not far from his 
 own house, with a slip of paper pinned to his coat, 
 on which were written, in a disguised hand the words 
 — "Remember O'Regan's son, and let tyrants trem- 
 ble." 
 
 Many strong circumstances appeared to bring this 
 murder home to O'Regan. From the day of his 
 son's death, until the illegal papers were found in 
 the eve of his house, he had never rested one moment. 
 His whole soul seemed darkly to brood over that 
 distressing event, and to have undergone a change 
 as it were from good to evil. His brow lowered, his 
 cheek got gaunt and haggard, and his eye hollow 
 and wolfish with ferocity. Neither did he make 
 any great secret of his intention to execute vengeance 
 on those who hurried his dying child out of life 
 whilst in the very throws of dissolution. He was 
 never known, however, to name any names, nor to 
 mark out any particular individual for revenge. 
 His denunciations were general, but fearful in their 
 import. The necessity, too, of deserting his wife and 
 child sealed his ruin, which was not hard to do, as 
 the man was at best but poor, or merely able as 
 it is termed, to hve from hand to mouth. His 
 flight, therefore, and all the circumstances of the 
 case considered, it is not strange that he was the
 
 210 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 object of general suspicion, and that the officers of 
 justice were sharply on the look out for a clue to 
 liim. 
 
 In this position matters were, when the Castle 
 Cumber corps of cavalry made their appearance 
 under all the glitter of new arms housings and 
 uniforms, with Valentine M'Clutchy as their captain 
 and pay-master, and graceful Phil as lieutenant. 
 Upon what slight circumstances do great events 
 often turn. Because Phil had an ungainly twist in 
 his legs, or in other words, because he was knock- 
 kneed, and could not appear to advantage as an 
 infantry officer ; was the character of the corps 
 changed from foot to cavalry, so that Phil and 
 Handsome Harry had an opportunity of exhibiting 
 their points together. A year had now elapsed, 
 and the same wintry month of December had again 
 returned, and yet no search had been successful in 
 finding any trace of O'Regan ; but if our readers 
 will be so good as to accompany us to another scene, 
 they will have an opportunity of learning at least 
 the character which M'Clutchy's new corps had won 
 in the country.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A WINTER MORNING POVERTY AND SORROW FATHER 
 
 ROCHE A MOUNTAIN JOURNEY RA YMOND-NA- 
 
 HATTHA CABIN ON THE MOORS M'CLUTCHY's 
 
 BLOOD'HOUNDS THE CONFLICT A TREBLE DEATH. 
 
 It is the chill and ghastly dawn of a severe winter 
 morning ; the grey, cheerless opening of day bor- 
 rows its faint hght only for the purpose of enabling 
 you to see that the country about you is partially 
 covered with snow, and that the angry sky is loaded 
 with storm. The rising sun, like some poverty- 
 stricken invalid, driven, as it were, by necessity, to 
 the occupation of the day, seems scarcely able to 
 rise, and does so with a sickly and reluctant aspect. 
 Abroad, there is no voice of joy or kindness — no 
 cheerful murmur with which the heart can sym- 
 pathize — all the warm and exhilarating harmonies 
 that breathe from nature in her more genial moods 
 are silent. A black freezing spirit darkens the very 
 hght of day, and throws its dismal shadow upon 
 every thing about us, whilst the only sounds that
 
 212 VALENTINE m'CLUTCHY, 
 
 fall upon the ear, are the roaring of the bitter winds 
 among the naked trees, or the hoarse voice of the 
 half-frozen river, rising and falhng — now near, and 
 now far away in the distance. 
 
 On such a morning as this it was, and at such an 
 hour, that a pale-faced, thin woman, with all the 
 melancholy evidences of destitution and sorrow about 
 her, knocked at the door of her parish priest, the 
 Rev. Francis Roche. The very knock she gave, had 
 in it a character of respectful but eager haste. Her 
 appearance, too, was miserable, and as she stood in 
 the cold wintry twihght, it would have satisfied 
 any one that deep affliction and wasting poverty 
 were both at her humble hearth. She had on 
 neither shoe nor stocking, and the consequence was, 
 that the sharp and jagged surface of the frozen 
 ground, rendered severer by the impatient speed of 
 her journey, had cut her feet in such a mamier that 
 the blood flowed from them in several places. Cloak 
 or bonnet she had none ; but instead of the former 
 her humble gown was turned over her shoulders, 
 and in place of the latter she wore a thin kerchief, 
 drawn round her head, and held under her chin with 
 one hand, as the lower classes of Irishwomen often 
 do in short and hasty journies. Her journey, 
 however, though hasty in this instance, was by no
 
 THE IRISH AGENT 
 
 213 
 
 means short ; and it was easy to perceive by her 
 distracted manner and stifled sobs, that however 
 poorly protected against the bitter elements, she 
 had a grief witjiin which rendered her insensible to 
 their severity. 
 
 It was also apparent, that, though humble in life, 
 she possessed, like thousands of her countrywomen, 
 a mind of sufficient compass and strength to compre- 
 hend, when adequately moved, the united working 
 of more than one principle at the same moment. 
 We have said it was evident that she was under the 
 influence of deep sorrow, but this was not all — a 
 second glance might disclose the exhibition of a still 
 higher principle. The woman was at prayer, and 
 it was easy to perceive by the beads which she held 
 in her fervently clasped hands, by the occasional 
 knocking of her breast, and the earnest look of 
 supplication to heaven, that her soul poured forth its 
 aspirations in the deep-felt and anxious spirit of that 
 religion which aflliction is found so often to kindle in 
 the peasant's heart. She had only knocked a second 
 time when the door was opened, and having folded 
 up her beads, she put them into her bosom, and 
 entering the priest's house, immediately found herself 
 in the kitchen. In a moment a middle aged woman, 
 with a rush light in her hand, stirred up the
 
 214 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 greeshougli, and raking the live turf out of it, she 
 threw on a dozen well dried peats out of the chimney 
 corner, and soon had a comfortable and blazing fire, 
 at which the afflicted creature, having first intimated 
 her wish that his reverence should accompany her 
 home, was desired to sit until he should be ready to 
 set out. 
 
 "Why then," exclaimed the good-natured woman, 
 *' but you had a bitther tramp of it this could and 
 cuttin' mornin' — and a could and cuttin' mornin' it 
 is — for sure didn't I feel as if the very nose was 
 whipt off o' me when I only wint to open the door 
 for you. Sit near the fire, achora, and warm your- 
 self — throth myself feels like a sieve, the way the 
 could's goin' through me; — sit over, achora, sit over, 
 and get some heat into you." 
 
 " Thank you," said the woman, " but you know 
 it's not a safe thing to go near the fire when one 
 is frozen or very cowld — 'twould only make me 
 worse when I go out again, besides givin' me pain 
 now." 
 
 " Och, 'troth you're right, I forgot that — but you 
 surely didn't come far, if one's to judge by your 
 dress ; though, God knows, far or near, you have the 
 light coverin' an you for such a morning as this is, 
 the Lord be praised !"
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 215 
 
 " I came better than three miles," repUed the 
 woman. 
 
 "Than what?" 
 
 " Than three miles." 
 
 " Saver above, is it possible ! without cloak or 
 bonnet, shoe or stockin' — an you have your affliction 
 at home too, poor thing ; why the Lord look down 
 an you, an' pity you I pray his blessed name this 
 day ! Stop, I must warm you a drink of brave new 
 milk, and that'll help to put the could out of your 
 heart — sit round here, from the breath of that back 
 door — I'll have it ready for you in a jiffey ; throth 
 will I, an' you'll see it'll warm you and do you 
 good." 
 
 " God help me," exclaimed the woman, " I'll take 
 the drink, bekase I wouldn't refuse your kind heart ; 
 but it's not meat, nor drink, nor could, nor storm, 
 that's throubhn me — I could bear all that, and many 
 a time did — but then I had him ! but now who's to 
 comfort us — who are we to look to — who is to be our 
 friend ? Oh, in the wide world — but God is good I" — 
 said she, checking herself from a pious apprehension 
 that she was not sufficiently submissive to his will, 
 "God is good— but still it's hard to think of losing 
 liim." 
 
 " Well, you won't lose him, I hope," said the
 
 216 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 good creature, stirring the new milk with a spoon, 
 and tasting it to ascertain if it was warm enough — 
 " Of coorse it's your husband you — whitch ! itgch ! 
 —the devil be off you for a skillet, I've a'most 
 scalded myself wid you — it's so thin that it has a 
 thing boilin' before you could say Jack Robison. 
 Here now, achora, try it, an' take care it's not a 
 trifle too hot — it'll comfort you, any how." 
 
 It is in a country like Ireland, where there is so 
 much of that close and wasting poverty which con- 
 stitutes absolute misery, that these beautiful gushes 
 of pure and tender humanity are to be found, which 
 spring in the obscurity of life out of the natural 
 goodness and untutored piety of the Irish heart. 
 It is these virtues, unseen and unknown, as they 
 generally are, except by the humble individuals on 
 whom they are exerted — that so often light up by 
 their radiance the darkness and destitution of the 
 cold and lowly cabin, and that give an unconscious 
 sense of cheerfulness under great privations, which, 
 those who do not know the people, often attribute 
 to other and more discreditable causes. 
 
 While the poor woman in question was drinking 
 the warm milk — the very best restorative by the 
 way which she could get — for poverty is mostly 
 forced to find out its own humble comforts — Father
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 217 
 
 Roche entered the kitchen, buttoned up and prepared 
 for the journey. On looking at her he seemed 
 startled by the scantiness of her di^ess on such a 
 morning — and when she rose up at his entrance and 
 dropped him a curtsey, exclaiming " God save you, 
 Father!" — at the same time hastily swallowing down 
 the remainder of the milk that she might not lose a 
 moment ; he cast his eye round the kitchen to see 
 whether she had actually come in the dress she 
 wore. 
 
 " How far have you come this morning, my poor 
 woman ?" he inquired. 
 
 " From the side of the Sliebeen More Mountains, 
 plaise your reverence." 
 
 " What, in your present dress ! without shoe or 
 stocking ?" 
 
 " True enough. Sir : but indeed it was little the 
 cowld, or sleet, or frost, troubled me." 
 
 " Yes, God help you, I can believe that too — for 
 I understand the cause of it too well — but have 
 hope — Katty, what was that you gave her?" 
 
 '' A moutliful of warm milk, your reverence, to 
 put the cowld out of her heart." 
 
 " Ah, Katty, I wish we could put sorrow and 
 affliction out of it — but you did well and right in 
 the meantime ; still you must do better, Katty.
 
 218 VALENTINE M'OLUTCHY, 
 
 Lend her your cloak — and your shoes and stockings 
 too, poor thing !" 
 
 " I'm oblaged to your reverence," she repHed, 
 " but indeed I won't feel the want of them ; as I said 
 there's only one thought that I am suffering about — 
 and that is, for your reverence to see my husband 
 before he departs." 
 
 " Yes — but the consequences of this cold and 
 bitter journey may fall upon you at another time — 
 and before long too — so be advised by me, and don't 
 refuse to take them." 
 
 " It's not aisy to do that, Sir," she replied with 
 a faint smile, for as she spoke, his servant had the 
 cloak already about her shoulders, " it appears," she 
 continued " that this kind woman must have her will 
 and way in every thing." 
 
 " To be sure I will," said Katty, " espishally in 
 every thing that's right, any how — come here now, 
 and while his reverence is getting his staff and 
 mittens in the room above, I'll help you on with the 
 shoes and stockings. Now," she added in one of 
 those touching and irresistible whispers that are 
 produced by kindness and not by secrecy, " if any 
 thing happens — as God forbid there should — but if 
 any thing does happen, keep these till afther every 
 thing is over. Before strangers you know one
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 219 
 
 wouldn't like to appear too bare, if they could 
 help it." 
 
 The tone in which these words were spoke, could 
 not fail in at once reaching the poor woman's heart. 
 She wept as much from gratitude, as the gloomy 
 alternative involved in Katty's benevolent offer. 
 
 " God bless you," she exclaimed, " but I trust in 
 the Almighty, there may be hope and that they wont 
 be wanted. Still, how can I hope when I think of 
 the way he's in ? But God is good, blessed be his 
 holy name I" 
 
 So saying, the priest came down, and they both 
 set out on their bleak and desolate journey. 
 
 The natural aspect of the surrounding country 
 was in good keeping, with the wild and stormy 
 character of the morning. Before them in the 
 back ground rose a magnificent range of mountains, 
 whose snowy peaks were occasionally seen far above 
 the dusky clouds which drifted rapidly across their 
 bosoms. The whole landscape, in fact, teemed with a 
 spirit of savage grandeur. Many of the glens on 
 each side were deep and precipitous, where rock 
 beetled over rock, and ledge projected over ledge, in 
 a manner so fearful, that the mind of the spectator, 
 excited and rapt into terror by the contemplation of 
 them, wondered why they did not long ago tumble
 
 220 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 into the chasm beneath, so slight was their apparent 
 support. Even in the mildest seasons desolation 
 brooded over the lesser hills and mountains about 
 them ; what then must it not have been at the period 
 we are describing ? From a hill a little to the right 
 over which they had to pass, a precipitous headland 
 was visible, against which the mighty heavings of the 
 ocean could be heard hoarsely thundering at a dis- 
 tance, and the giant billows, in periods of storm and 
 tempest, seen shivering themselves into wliite foam 
 that rose nearly to the summit of their immoveable 
 barriers. 
 
 Such was the toilsome country over which our 
 two travellers had to pass. 
 
 It was not without difficulty and fatigue, that the 
 priest and his companion wended their way towards 
 one of the moors we have mentioned. The snow 
 beat against them with great violence, sometimes 
 rendering it almost impossible for them to keep their 
 eyes open or to see their proper path across the liills. 
 The woman, however, trod her way instinctively, 
 and whilst the priest aided her by his superior 
 strength, she in return guided liim by a clearer 
 sagacity. Neither spoke much, for in truth each 
 had enough to do in combating the toil and peril of 
 the journey, as well as in thinking of the melancholy
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. ' ' *' 221 
 
 scene to which they were hastening. Words of 
 consolation and comfort he did from time to time 
 utter ; but he felt that his situation was one of diffi- 
 culty. To inspire hope where there was probably 
 no hope, might be only to deepen her affliction ; and 
 on the other hand, to weigh down a heart already 
 heavy laden by unnecessarily adding one gloomy 
 forboding to its burthen, was not in his nature. 
 Such comfort as he could give without bearing too 
 strongly upon either her hopes or her fears he did 
 give ; and we do not think, that an apostle had he 
 been in his place, could or ought to have done more. 
 They had now arrived within half a mile of tho 
 moor, when they felt themselves overtaken by a man 
 whose figure was of a very singular and starthng 
 description, being apparently as wild and untamed as 
 the barren waste on which he made his appearance. 
 He was actually two or three inches above the 
 common height, but in addition to this fact, and as 
 if not satisfied with it, he wore three hats, one 
 sheathed a little into the other so tliat they could 
 not readily separate, and the under one he kept 
 always fastened to his head, in order to prevent the 
 whole pyramid from falling off. His person seemed 
 to gain still greater height from the circumstance of 
 his wearing a long surtout that reached to his heels, 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 222 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 and which he kept constantly buttoned closely about 
 him. His feet were cased in a tight pair of leather 
 buskins, for it was one of his singularities that he 
 could endure neither boot nor shoe, and he always 
 wore a glove of some kind on his left hand, but 
 never any on liis right. His features might be 
 termed regular, even handsome ; and his eyes were 
 absolutely brilUant, yet, notwithstanding this, it was 
 impossible to look for a moment upon his tout 
 ensemble, without perceiving that that spirit which 
 stamps the impress of reason and intellect upon the 
 human countenance, was not visible in his. Like a 
 new and well proportioned house which had never 
 been occupied, every thing seemed externally regular 
 and perfect, wliilst it was evident by its still and 
 lonely character, as contrasted with the busy marks 
 of on-going Hfe in those around it, that it was void 
 and without an inhabitant. 
 
 Like many others of liis unhappy class. Poll 
 Doolin's son, "Raymond-na-hattha," for it was 
 he, and so had he been nicknamed, in conse- 
 quence of his wearing such a number of hats, had 
 a remarkable mixture of humour, simplicity, and 
 cunning. He entertained a great penchant, or 
 rather a passion for cock-fighting, and on the pre- 
 sent occasion carried a game one under his arm.
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 223 
 
 Throughout the county no man possessed a bird of 
 that species, with whose pedigree he was not tho- 
 roughly acquainted ; and, truth to tell, he proved 
 himself as great a thief as he was a genealogist 
 among them. Many a time the unfortunate foxes 
 from some neighbouring cover were cursed and 
 banned, when, if the fact had been known, the only 
 fox that despoiled the roost was Raymond-na-hattha. 
 One thing, however, was certain, that unless the 
 cock were thoroughly game he might enjoy his 
 liberty and ease long enough without molestation 
 from Raymond. We had well nigh forgotten to say 
 that he wore on the right side of his topmost hat a 
 cockade of yellow cloth, from wliich two or three 
 ribbons of a scarlet colour fluttered down to his 
 shoulder, a bit of vanity which added very much to 
 the fantastic nature of his general costume. 
 
 " Ha ! Raymond, my good boy," said the priest, 
 " how does it happen that you are so early up this 
 stormy morning ? would you not be more comfort- 
 able in your bed ?" 
 
 " Airly up," replied Raymond, " airly up ! that's 
 good — to be sure you're a priest, but you don't 
 know every thing." 
 
 " Why, what am I ignorant of now, Raymond?" 
 
 *' Why, that I didn't go to bed yet— so that it's
 
 224 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 up late, instead of early, I am — d'ye hear ? ha, ha, 
 now take that." 
 
 " When, where, and how did you spend the night 
 then, Raymond ; but you seem in a hurry — surely 
 if you trot on at this rate we cannot keep up with 
 you." The truth is, Raymond's general rate of 
 traveUing was very rapid. " Where did you spend 
 the night, Raymond," continued the priest. 
 
 " Wid a set o' jolly cocks — ha, ha — now make 
 money of that, d'ye hear." 
 
 " You're a riddle, Raymond ; you're a riddle ; 
 there's no understanding you — where did you get the 
 cock ? — but I needn't ask ; of course you stole him." 
 
 " Then why do you ax if you think so ?" 
 
 " Because you're notorious for stealing cocks — 
 every one knows as much." 
 
 " No, never steal 'em, — fond o' me — come wid 
 me themselves. Look." The words were scarcely 
 uttered when he tossed the bird up into the air, and 
 certainly, after flying about for a few yards, he 
 alit, and tottering against the wind towards Ray- 
 mond, stretched out his neck, as if he wished to be 
 again taken up by him. 
 
 " I see," said the priest, '' but answer me — where 
 did you spend last night now ?" 
 
 " I tould you," said Raymond, '' wid de jolly
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 225 
 
 cocks — sure I mostly roost it ; an' better company 
 too than most people, for they're fond o' me. Didn't 
 you see ? ha, ha !" 
 
 '' I beheve I understand you now," said Father 
 Roche ; " you've slept near somebody's hen-roost, 
 and have stolen the cock — to whom are you carrying 
 it ?" 
 
 " You won't tell to-morrow ; — ha, ha, there now, 
 take a rub too — that's one." 
 
 "Poor creature," said the priest to liis companion, 
 " I am told he is affectionate, and where he takes 
 a fancy or has received a Idndness, very grate- 
 ful." 
 
 The parish where the circumstances we are 
 describing occurred, having been that in wliich 
 Raymond was born, of course the poor fool was 
 famihar to every one in it, as indeed every one in it, 
 young and old, was to him. 
 
 During this short dialogue between him and the 
 priest, the female, absorbed in her own heavy 
 sorrow, was observed by Raymond occasionally to 
 wipe the tears from her eyes ; a slight change, a 
 shade of apparent compassion came over his coun- 
 tenance, and turning to her, he gently laid his hand 
 upon her shoulder, and said, in a voice different 
 from his flighty and abrupt manner —
 
 226 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 " Don't cry, Mary, he has company, and good 
 things that were brought to Mm — he has indeed, 
 Mary ; so don't be crying now." 
 
 " What do you mean, poor boy ?" asked the 
 woman ; " I don't understand you, Raymond." 
 
 " It is difficult to do that at all times," said Father 
 Roche, " but notwithstanding the wildness of his 
 manner, he is seldom without meaning. Raymond 
 will you tell me where you came from now ?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " From your house," he rephed; " I went to fetch 
 you to him ; but you were both gone, and I overtook 
 you — I could aisy do that — ha, ha." 
 
 " But what is the company that's with him, Ray- 
 mond?" asked the female, naturally anxious to 
 understand tliis part of his communication. Ray- 
 mond, however, was now in one of his silent moods, 
 and appeared not to hear her ; at all events, he did 
 not think it worth his while to give her any reply. 
 For a short period he kept murmuring indistinctly 
 to himself, or if a word or two became audible, it 
 was clear that his favourite sport of cock-fighting 
 had altogether engrossed his attention. 
 
 They had now reached a rough, dark knoll of 
 heath, which brought them in view of the cabin to 
 which they were going, and also commanded an ex-
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 227 
 
 tensive and glorious prospect of the rich and mag- 
 nificent inland country which lay behind them. The 
 priest and his now almost exhausted companion, to 
 whom its scenery was famihar, waited not to look 
 back upon its beauty, or its richness. Not so Ray- 
 mond, who, from the moment they began to ascend 
 the elevation, kept constantly looking back, and 
 straining his eyes in one particular direction. At 
 length he started, and, placing his right hand upon 
 the priest's shoulder, said in a suppressed but eager 
 voice — 
 
 " Go on — go on — they're coming." Then, turn- 
 ing to the female — " Come," said he ; " come, Mary, 
 — ril help you." 
 
 " Who is coming ?" she exclaimed, whilst the pale- 
 ness of death and terror settled in her face ; " for 
 God's mercy, Raymond, who is coming ?" 
 
 " I saw them," said he ; "I saw them. Come — 
 come fast — I'll help you — don't thrimble — don't 
 thrimble." 
 
 " Let us be guided by him," said the priest. 
 *' Raymond," he added, " we cannot go much faster 
 through this marshy heath ; but do you aid Mary as 
 well as you can ; as for me, I will try if it be possible 
 to quicken my pace." 
 
 He accordingly proceeded in advance of the other
 
 228 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 two for a little ; but it was only for a little. The 
 female — who seemed excited by some uncommon 
 terror, and the wild apprehensive manner of her 
 companion, into something not unlike the energy of 
 despair — rushed on, as if she had been only setting 
 out, or gained supernatural strength. In a few 
 minutes she was beside the priest, whom she en- 
 couraged, and besought, and entreated — ay, and in 
 some moments of more vehement feehng, absolutely 
 chided, for not keeping pace with herself. They 
 liad now, however, come within about a hundred 
 yards of the cabin, which they soon reached — the 
 female entering it about a minute or two before the 
 others, in order to make those humble arrange- 
 ments about a sick-bed, which, however poverty 
 may be forced to overlook on ordinary occasions, 
 are always attended to on the approach of the doc- 
 tor, or the minister of religion. In the instance 
 before us, she had barely time to comfort her sick 
 husband, by an assurance that the priest had arrived, 
 after which she hastily wiped his lips and kissed 
 them, then settled his head more easily ; after which 
 she spread out to the best advantage the poor quilt 
 which covered him, and tucked it in about his lowly 
 bed, so as to give it something of a more tidy 
 appearance.
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 229 
 
 The interior of the cottage, which the priest and 
 Raymond entered together, was, when the bitter 
 and inclement nature of the morning, and the state 
 of the miserable inmates is considered, enough to 
 make any heart possessing humanity shudder. Two 
 or three stools ; a couple of pots ; a few shelves, 
 supported on pegs driven into the peat wall ; about 
 a bushel of raw potatoes lying in a corner ; a small 
 heap of damp turf — for the foregoing summer had 
 been so incessantly wet, that the turf, unless when 
 very early cut, could not be saved ; a few wooden 
 noggins and dishes ; together with a bundle of straw, 
 covered up in a corner with the sick man's coat, 
 which, when shaken out at night, was a bed ; and 
 these, with the exception of their own simple do- 
 mestic truth and affection, was their only riches. 
 The floor, too, as is not unusual in such mountain 
 cabins, was nothing but the natural peat, and so 
 damp and soft was it, that in wet weather the 
 marks of their feet were visibly impressed on it at 
 every step. With the exception of liberty to go 
 and come, pure air, and the hght of the blessed day, 
 they might as well have dragged out their existence 
 in a subterraneous keep, belonging to some tyranni- 
 cal old baron of the feudal ages. 
 
 There was one small apartment in tliis cabin, but
 
 230 VALENTINE m'CLUTCHY, 
 
 what it contained, if it did contain any thing, could 
 not readily be seen, for the hole or window, which 
 in summer admitted the light, was now filled with 
 rags to keep out the cold. From this little room, 
 however, the priest as he entered, was surprised to 
 see a young man come forth, apparently much 
 moved by some object which he had seen in it. 
 
 " Mr. Harman," said the priest, a good deal 
 surprised, " who could have expected to find you 
 here ?" 
 
 They shook hands as he spoke, each casting his 
 eyes upon this woful scene of misery. " God pity 
 them," ejaculated the priest, clasping his hands, 
 and looking upwards, " and sustain them !" 
 
 " I owe it to poor Raymond, here," replied the 
 other, " and I feel obliged to him ; but," said he, 
 taking Father Roche over to the door, " here will 
 be a double death — father and son." 
 
 " Father and son, how is that ? — she mentioned 
 nothing of the son." 
 
 *' It is very possible," said Harman, " that they 
 are not conscious of his danger. I fear, however, 
 that the poor boy has not many hours to hve." 
 
 All that we have just described, occurred in three 
 minutes ; but short as was the time, the wife's im- 
 patience to have the rights of the church admi-
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 231 
 
 nistered, could scarcely be restrained ; nor was poor 
 Raymond's anxiety about the dying man much less. 
 
 •'' They're comin'," said he, " Mr. Harman, they 
 are comin' ; hurry, hurry, I know w-hat they'll do." 
 
 " Who are coming, Raymond ?" asked Harman. 
 
 " Oh !" said the fool, " hurry— M'Clutchy's 
 blood-hounds." 
 
 The wife clapped her hands, shrieked, and falling 
 on her knees, exclaimed in a piercing voice, " mer- 
 ciful God, look down on us ! Oh, Father Roche, 
 there is not a moment to be lost !" 
 
 The priest and Harman again exchanged a melan- 
 choly glance ; — " you must all retire into the httle 
 room," said the clergyman, '' until I administer to 
 him the last rites." 
 
 They accordingly withdrew, the woman having 
 first left a Ht rush light candle at his bed-side, as she 
 knew the ceremony required. 
 
 The man's strength was wasting fast, and his 
 voice sinking rapidly, but on the other hand he was 
 calm and rational, a circumstance which rehcved 
 the priest's mind very much. As is usual, having 
 put a stole about his neck, he first heard his con- 
 fession, earnestly exhorted him to repentance, and 
 soothed and comforted him with all those promises 
 and consolations which are held out to repentant
 
 232 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 sinners. He then administered the Extreme Unction ; 
 which being over, the ceremony, and a solemn one 
 it must be considered, was concluded. On this 
 occasion, however, his death-bed consolations did not 
 end here. There are in the Roman Catholic Church 
 prayers for the dying, many of them replete with 
 the fervour of Christian faith, and calculated to raise 
 the soul to the hopes of immortality. These the 
 priest read in a slow manner, so as that the dying 
 man could easily accompany him, which he did 
 with his hands clasped upon his breast, and his eyes 
 closed, unless when he raised them occasionally to 
 heaven. He then exhorted him with an anxiety for 
 his salvation which transcended all earthly and 
 temporal considerations, prayed with him and for 
 him, whilst the tears streamed in torrents down his 
 cheeks. Nor was the spirit of his holy mission lost ; 
 the penitent man's face assumed a placid and serene 
 expression; the light of immortal hope beamed upon 
 it ; and raising his eyes and his feeble arms to heaven, 
 he uttered several ejaculations in a tone of voice too 
 low to be heard. At length he exclaimed aloud, 
 *' thanks to the Almighty that I did not commit this 
 murder as I intended ! I found it done to my hand ; 
 but I don't know who did it, as I am to meet my 
 God !" The words were pronounced with difficulty ;
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 233 
 
 indeed they were scarcely uttered, when his arms 
 fell lifelessly, as it were, by his side : — they were again 
 suddenly drawn up, however, as if by a convulsive 
 motion, and the priest saw that the agonies of death 
 were about to commence ; still, it was easy to per- 
 ceive that the man was collected and rational. 
 
 It was now, however, that a scene took place, 
 which could not, we imagine, be witnessed out of 
 distracted and unhappy Ireland. Raymond, who 
 appeared to dread the approach of those whom he 
 termed M'Clutchy's blood-hounds, no sooner saw 
 that the rehgious rites were concluded, than he ran 
 out to reconnoitre. In a moment, however, he 
 returned a picture of terror, and dragging the woman 
 to the door, pointed to a dechvity below the house, 
 exclaiming — 
 
 " See, Mary, see — they're gallopin'." 
 The dying man seemed conscious of what was 
 said, for the groan he gave was wild and start- 
 ling ; his wife dropped on her knees at the door, 
 where she could watch her husband and those 
 who approached, and clasping her hands, exclaimed, 
 " To your mercy, O Lord of heaven, to your 
 mercy take him, before he falls into their hands, 
 that will show him none!" She then bestowed 
 upon him a look full of an impatient a2;ony,
 
 234 VALENTINE M*CLUTCHY, 
 
 which no language could describe ; her eyes had 
 already become wild and piercing — her cheek flushed 
 — and her frame animated with a spirit that seemed 
 to partake at once of terror, intense hatred, and 
 something like frenzy. 
 
 " They are gallopin' ! they are gallopin' !" she 
 said, " and they will find life in him !" She then 
 wrung her hands, but shed not a tear — "speed, 
 Hugh," she said, " speed, speed, husband of my 
 heart — the arms of God are they not open for you, 
 and why do you stay ?" These sentiments, we 
 should have informed our readers, were uttered, or 
 rather chaunted in a recitative of sorrow, in Irish ; 
 Irish being the language in which the peasantry 
 who happen to speak both it and Enghsh, always 
 express themselves when more than usually excited. 
 " The sacred oil of salvation is upon you — the sacra^ 
 ment of peace and forgiveness has lightened your 
 soul — the breath of mercy is the breath you're 
 breathin' — the hope of Jesus is in your heart, and 
 the intercession of his blessed mother, she that knew 
 sorrow herself, is before you ! Then, light of my 
 heart, the arms of God are they not open for you, 
 and why do you stay here ?" 
 
 " Nearer — nearer," she exclaimed, " they are 
 nearer — whippin' and spurrin' their horses ! Hugh
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 235 
 
 O'Regan, that was the sun of my life, and of my 
 heart, and ever without a cloud, hasten to the God of 
 mercy ! Oh, surely, you will not blame your own 
 Mary that was your lo\dn' wife — and the treasure 
 of your young and manly heart, for wishin' to see 
 you taken from her eyes — and for wishing to see the 
 eyes that never looked upon us all but with love and 
 kindness, closed on us for ever. Oh," said she, 
 putting her hands to her forehead, " an' is it — is it 
 come to this — that I that was dearer to him than his 
 own hfe a thousand times, should now be glad to see 
 him die — be glad to see him die ! Oh ! they are 
 here," she shrieked, "before the door — you may 
 hear their horses' feet ! Hugh O'Regan," and her 
 voice became louder and more energetic — "the 
 white-skinned — the fair of hair, the strong of hand, 
 and the true of heart — as you ever loved me that 
 was once your happy bride — as you ever loved 
 the religion of our holy church — as you hope for 
 happiness and mercy, hasten from me — from our 
 orphan — from all — oh, hasten to the arms of your 
 God!" 
 
 During this scene there was a solemn silence in 
 the house, the priest and Harman having both been 
 struck mute at the solemnity of the scene. 
 
 " They arc here — they arc here !" she screamed.
 
 236 VALENTINE M'CLUTCIIY, 
 
 '' Oh, son of my heart, think not now of me, nor of 
 the children of your love, for we will follow you in 
 time — but think of the happy country you're going 
 to, — to hve in the sunshine of heaven, among saints 
 and angels for ever ! Oh, son of my heart, think 
 too of what you lave behind you ! What is it '? 
 Oh ! what is it to you — but poverty, and misery, 
 and hardship — the cowld cabin and the damp bed — 
 the frost of the sky — the frown of power, and the 
 scourge of law — all this, oh, right hand of my affec- 
 tion, with the hard labour and the scanty food, do 
 you fly from ! Sure we had no friend in this world 
 to protect or defend us against them that would 
 trample us under their feet! No friend for us 
 because we are poor, and no friend for our religion 
 because it is despised. Then hasten, hasten, O 
 light of my heart — and take refuge in the mercy 
 of your God !" 
 
 " Mary," said the priest, who had his eyes fixed 
 on the sick man, " give God thanks, he is dead — and 
 beyond the reach of human enmity for ever." 
 
 She immediately prostrated herself on the floor 
 in token of humility and thanksgiving — then raising 
 her eyes to heaven, she said, " may the heart of the 
 woeful widow be grateful to the God who has taken 
 him to his mercy before they came upon him ! But
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 237 
 
 here they are, and now I am not afraid of them. 
 They can't insult my blessed husband now, nor 
 murdher him, as his father's villains did our dyin' 
 son, on the could Esker of Drum Dhu ; nor disturb 
 him with their barbarous torments on the bed of 
 death — and glory be to God for that!" 
 
 Many of our readers may be led to imagine that 
 the terrors of Mary O' Regan were altogether 
 unproportioned to any thing that might be appre- 
 hended from the approach of the officers of justice, 
 or, at least, of those who came to execute the law. 
 The state of Irish society at that time, however, 
 was very different from what it is now, or has been 
 for the last twenty years. At that period one party 
 was in the ascendant, and the other directly under 
 their feet ; the former was in the possession of irre- 
 sponsible power, and the other, in many matters, 
 without any tribunal whatsoever to which they could 
 appeal. The Established Church of Ireland was 
 then a sordid corporation, whose wealth was par- 
 celled out not only without principle, but without 
 shame, to the Enghsh and Irish aristocracy, but 
 principally to the English. Church livings were 
 not filled with men remarkable for learning and 
 piety, but awarded to political prostitution, and often 
 to young rakes of known and unblushing profligacy 
 VOL. I. R
 
 238 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 connected with families of rank. The consequence 
 was, that a gross secular spirit replete with political 
 hatred and religious rancour, was the only principle 
 which existed in the place of true religion. That 
 word was then, except in rare cases indeed, a dead 
 letter ; for such was the state of Protestant society 
 then, and for several years afterwards, that it mat- 
 tered not how much or how little a man of that 
 creed knew ahout the principles of his own church ; 
 and as it was administered, the less he knew of it the 
 better — all that was necessary to constitute a good 
 Protestant was " to hate the Pope." In truth — for 
 it cannot be concealed, and we write it with deep 
 pain and sorrow, the Estabhshed Church of Ireland 
 was then in point of fact, little else than a mere 
 pohtical engine held by the English government, 
 for the purpose of securing the adherence of those 
 who were wilhng to give support to their measures. 
 In such a state of things, then, it need not be 
 wondered at, that, neglected and secularized as it 
 was at the period we write of, it should produce a 
 class of men, whose passions in every thing con- 
 nected with religion and politics were intolerant and 
 exclusive. Every Church, no matter what its creed, 
 unfortunately has its elect of such professors. Nor 
 were these confined to the lower classes alone — far
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 239 
 
 from it. The squire and nobleman were too fre- 
 quently both aUke remarkable for the exhibition of 
 such principles. Of this class was our friend M'Clut- 
 ehy, who was now a justice of peace, a grand 
 juror, and a captain of cavalry — his corps having, a 
 little time before, been completed. With this posse, 
 as the officers of justice, the pranks he played were 
 grievous to think of, or to remember. He and they 
 were, in fact, the terror of the whole Roman Catho- 
 lic population ; and from the spirit in which they 
 executed justice, were seldom called by any other 
 name than that of M'Clutchy's Blood-hounds. Upon 
 the present occasion they were unaccompanied by 
 M'Clutchy himself — a circumstance which was not 
 to be regretted, as there was little to be expected 
 from his presence, but additional brutality and 
 insult. 
 
 On arriving at the door, they hastily dismounted, 
 and rushed into the cabin with their usual violence 
 and impetuosity, each being armed with a carbine 
 and bayonet. 
 
 Hallo !" said the leader, whose name was Sharpe ; 
 " what's here? shamming sickness is it?" 
 
 " No," said Father Roche ; '' it is death !" 
 
 " Ay ! shamming death then. Never mind — we'll 
 soon see that. Come, Steele, give him a prod — a
 
 240 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 gentle one — and I'll engage it'll make him find 
 tongue, if any thing will." 
 
 Steele, to whom this was addressed, drew his 
 bayonet, and commenced screwing it on, for the pur- 
 pose of executing his orders. 
 
 " A devihsh good trick, too," said he ; " and the 
 first of the kind that has been practised on us yet — 
 here goes " 
 
 Up until this moment O'Regan's wife sat beside 
 the dead body of her husband, without either word 
 or motion. A smile of — it might be satisfaction, 
 perhaps even joy, at his release ; or it might be 
 hatred — was on her face, and in her eye ; but when 
 the man pointed his bayonet at the corpse of her 
 husband, she started to her knees, and opening out 
 her arms, exclaimed — 
 
 " Here's my heart — and through that heart your 
 bayonet will go, before it touches his body. Oh, if 
 you have hearts in your bodies, you will surely spare 
 the dead !" 
 
 " Here goes, ma'am," he repeated, " and you had 
 better lave that — we're not in the habit of being 
 checked by the like of you, at any rate, or any of 
 your creed." 
 
 " I am not afeared to profess my creed — nor 
 ashamed of it," she exclaimed; ""and if it went to
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 241 
 
 that, I would die for it— but I tell you, that before 
 your bayonet touches the dead body of my husband, 
 it must pass through my heart I" 
 
 " Don't be alarmed, Mary," said the priest ; "they 
 surely cannot be serious. It's not possible that any 
 being in the shape of man could be guilty of such 
 a sacrilegious outrage upon the dead as they 
 threaten." 
 
 " What is it your business ?" said the leader ; 
 " go and tare off your masses, and be hanged ; none 
 of your Popish interference here, or it'll be worse 
 for you ! I say the fellow's not dead — he's only 
 skeming. Come, Ahck, put the woman aside, and 
 tickle him up." 
 
 '' Keep aside, I tell you," said Steele, again ad- 
 dressing her — " keep aside, my good woman, till I 
 obey my orders — and don't provoke me." 
 
 Father Roche was again advancing to remonstrate 
 with him, for the man's determination seemed likely to 
 get stronger by opposition — when, just as the bayonet 
 which had already passed under the woman's arm, 
 was within a few inches of O'Regan's body, he felt 
 himself dragged forcibly back, and Raymond-na- 
 hattha stood before him, having seized both carbine 
 and bayonet with a strong grip.
 
 242 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 *' Don't do that," he exclahned — " don't — you'd 
 hurt him — sure you'd hurt poor Hugh !" 
 
 The touching simphcity of this language, which, 
 to a heart possessing the least tincture of humanity, 
 would have more force than the strongest argu- 
 ment, was thrown away upon him to whom it was 
 directed. 
 
 " Fhng the blasted idiot off," shouted Sharpe ; 
 *' don't you see he has let the cat out o' the bag — 
 how could the man be hurted if he was dead ? I 
 knew it was a schame." 
 
 To throw Raymond off, however, was easier said 
 than done, as the fellow found on attempting it. A 
 struggle commenced between them, which, though 
 violent, was not of long duration. Raymond's eye 
 got turbid, and glared with a red fiery hght ; but 
 otherwise his complexion did not change. By a 
 vehement twist, he wrenched the arms out of Steel's 
 hands, hurling him from him at the same time, with 
 such force, that he fell on the floor with a crash. 
 
 " Now," said he, pointing the bayonet to his neck, 
 " would you like it ? — ha, ha ! — think of that." 
 
 Four carbines — the whole party consisting of five 
 — were immediately levelled at him ; and it is not 
 improbable that half a minute more would have
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 243 
 
 closed both his existence and his history, had not 
 Father Roche and the widow both succeeded, with 
 some difficulty, in drawing liim back from the pros- 
 trate officer of justice. Raymond, after a httle time, 
 gave up the arms ; but his eye still blazed at his 
 opponent, with a glare that could not be misunder- 
 stood. 
 
 Harman, who had hitherto taken no part whatso- 
 ever in the altercation, now interfered ; and with 
 feelings which he found it nearly impossible to 
 restrain, pointed out to them the wanton cruelty of 
 such conduct towards both the li\dno^ and the dead. 
 " I am ashamed of you," said he, " as countrymen, 
 as Irishmen. Your treatment of this poor heart- 
 broken woman, amidst her desolation and sorrow, is 
 a disgrace to the country that gave you birth, and 
 to the religion you profess, if, indeed, you profess 
 any." 
 
 '' Come, come, my good fellow," said Sharpe, 
 "^ what is it you say about my religion ? I tell you 
 I'll allow no man to spake a syllable against my reh- 
 gion ; so keep quiet if you're wise, and don't attack 
 that, otherwise, don't be surprised if I make you 
 dance the devil's hornpipe in half a shake, great a 
 hairo as you are." 
 
 " And yet you felt no scruple in just now in-
 
 244 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 suiting religion, in the person of this reverend 
 gentleman who never offended you." 
 
 '' Him ! why what the hell is he but a priest ?" 
 
 " And the more entitled to your respect on that 
 account — but since you are so easily excited in 
 defence of your own creed, why so ready to attack 
 in such offensive and insulting language that of 
 another ?" 
 
 *' Come, come, Sharpe," said another of them, 
 " are we to be here all day — whatever we're to do 
 let us do it at once ; if the fellow's dead, why he 
 has had a devilish good escape of it, and if not, let 
 us clap him on a horse, that is, provided he's able 
 to travel. I think myself he has got the start of us, 
 and that the wind's out of him." 
 
 "■ Take your time," said Steele, who felt anxious to 
 avenge his defeat upon some one, " we must know 
 that before ever we leave the house — and by the great 
 Boyne, the first person that goes between me and 
 him will get the contents of this," and as he uttered 
 the words he coolly and deliberately cocked the gun, 
 and was advancing as before to the dead body. 
 
 '* Hold back," said Harman, in a voice which 
 made the man start, whilst with a firm tread and 
 resolute eye, he stood face to face before him; " hold 
 back, and dare not to violate that sacred and awful
 
 THE IRISH AGENT, 245 
 
 privilege, which in every country and creed under 
 heaven is sufficient to protect the defenceless dead. 
 What can be your object in this ? are you men — 
 have you the spirit, the courage, of men ? If you 
 are human beings, is not the sight of that unhappy 
 fellow-creature — I hope he is happy now — stretched 
 out in death before you, sufficient, by the very still- 
 ness of departed life, to calm the brutal frenzy of 
 your passions ? Have you common courage ? No ; 
 I tell you to your teeth that none but spiritless 
 caitiffs and cowards would, in the presence of death 
 and sorrow — in the miserable cabin of the destitute 
 widow and her orphan boy — exhibit the ruffianly 
 outrages of men who are wanton in their cruelty, 
 merely because they know there is none to resist 
 them ; and I may add, because they think that their 
 excesses, however barbarous, will be sMelded by 
 higher authority. No, I tell you, if there stood 
 man for man before you, even without arms, in 
 their hands, you would not dare to act and swagger 
 as you do, or to play these cruel pranks of oppression 
 and tyranny any where, much less in the house of 
 death and affliction ! Fie upon you, you are a 
 disgrace to every thing that is human, a reproach to 
 every feeling of manhood, and every principle of 
 religion."
 
 246 VALENTINE M'cLUTCHY, 
 
 Hardened as they were by the habits of their 
 profligate and debasing employment, such was the 
 ascendancy of manly truth and moral feeling over 
 them, that for a minute or two they quailed under 
 the indignant glance of Harman. Steele drew back 
 his gun, and looked round on his companions to 
 ascertain their feeling. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Father Roche, anxious to mol- 
 lify them as much as he could — " gentlemen, for the 
 sake of that poor heart-broken widowed woman and 
 her miserable orphan son — for her and his sake, and 
 if not for theirs then, for the sake of God himself, 
 before whose awful judgment seat we must all stand 
 to render an account of our works, I entreat — I 
 implore you to withdraw — do, gentlemen, and leave 
 her and her children to their sorrows and their 
 misery, for the world has Uttle else for them." 
 
 " I'm wiUing to go," said a fellow, ironically called 
 Handsome Hacket, because he was bhnd of an eye 
 and deeply pock-pitted — " their 's no use in quarrelhn' 
 with a woman certainly — and I don't think there 
 can be any doubt about the man's death ; devil a 
 bit." 
 
 "Well said, Vainus," exclaimed Sharpe, "and 
 it not ten days since we were defrauded of Parra 
 Rackan who escaped from us in Jemmy Reilly's
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 247 
 
 coffin — when we thought to nab him in the wake- 
 house — and when we went away didn't they set hhn 
 at large, and then go back to bury the man that was 
 dead. Now how do you know Vainus, my purtty 
 boy, that this fellow 's not playin' us a trick o' the 
 same colour ?" 
 
 " Come, come," said another of them who had 
 not yet spoke, '' it's ais'y to know that. Curse me, 
 Steele, if you don't give him a tickle, I will — that's 
 all — we're losin' the day and I want my breakfast. 
 Living or dead, and be hanged to him, I'm starved 
 for want of something to eat — and to drink too — so 
 be quick I tell you." 
 
 "Very well, my buck," said Steele — " that's your 
 sort — here goes — " 
 
 He once more advanced with a savage determina- 
 tion to effect his purpose — when the priest gently 
 and in a mild spirit of remonstrance laid his hand 
 upon his shoulder ; but he had scarcely done so, when 
 one of them seized him by the collar and flung, or 
 rather attempted to fling, him back with great 
 violence. 
 
 " Go on, Steele," shouted the last speaker whose 
 name was Harpur — " go on — and be cursed, man, 
 we will support you." 
 
 The words, however, were scarcely out of his lips,
 
 248 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 when Raymond his eye glaring Uke that of a tiger 
 with the wildness of untamed resentment, sprung 
 upon him with a bound, and in a moment they once 
 more grappled together. It was, however, only for 
 a moment — for by the heavy blow he received from 
 Raymond the man staggered and fell, but ere he 
 reached the ground, the gun, which had been ineffec- 
 tually aimed at the poor fool, went off, and lodged 
 its contents in the heart of the last speaker who 
 staggered, groaned, and fell lifeless where he stood. 
 
 For a minute or so, this fatal and unexpected 
 catastrophe stunned them. They looked upon each 
 other amazed and apparently stupified. " AMiat," 
 cried Sharpe, "is Harpur dead? Two of them 
 then placed their arms against the wall, in order to 
 ascertain the exact nature of the injury inflicted. 
 
 At this moment, Sharpe who saw at once the man 
 was indeed lifeless, raised his gun about to take aim 
 at Raymond, when a blow from Harman felled him 
 to the earth. 
 
 '* And here's for your kindness. Mister Harman," 
 shouted Steele; but ere the words were uttered, 
 O' Regan's wife threw herself upon him so effec- 
 tually, that he felt it impossible to avail himself of 
 his fire-arms. 
 
 " Fight now," she shouted in Irish, " it is for
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 249 
 
 your lives — it is for the widow — for the orphan — 
 for the bed of death — and the dead that's upon it — 
 fight now — for God will be with us! May his 
 strength and power be in your arms and your hearts, 
 prays the woful widow this day ! Villain — \dllain," 
 she shouted, '' I have you powerless now — but it's 
 the strength of God that is in me, and not my own !" 
 
 The conflict that ensued now was bitter, savage, 
 deadly. The moment Sharpe was knocked down 
 Raymond flew to their fire-arms, handed one to 
 Harman, and kept the other himself. The men who 
 used them were fierce, and powerful, and cruel. In 
 a moment a furious contest took place. The four 
 men immediately grappled, each one attempting to 
 wrest the gun from his antagonist. Raymond whose 
 passions were now roused so as to resemble the 
 ravenous fury of madness itself, at one time howled 
 like a beast of prey, and shouted, and screamed, and 
 laughed with maniac wildness that was enough to make 
 almost any heart quail. His eyes blazed, his figure 
 dilated, his muscles stood out, his mouth was white 
 with froth, and his eye-brows were knit into a deep 
 and deadly scowl. Altogether his appearance was 
 frightful and appalling. 
 
 Harman was still better matched, and the struggle 
 with his foe was for some time doubtful enough, the
 
 250 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, j 
 
 i 
 
 latter being one of the strongest and most resolute 
 
 men in the whole parish. A powerful tug for the gun • 
 
 now took place, each pulling in opposite directions with \ 
 
 all his might. At length a thought struck Harman, who j 
 
 all at once let the gun go, when the other, having no ] 
 
 longer any resisting power to sustain him, fell back ' 
 
 upon the floor, and in an instant Harman's knee was i 
 
 on his chest and the gun in his possession. The man i 
 
 ground his teeth, and looking up into his face with ! 
 a black scowl of hatred exclaimed — 
 
 ''It is your turn now, but I will have mine." ^ 
 " You have had yours too long, villain," rephed 
 
 the other, " but in the mean time I wiU teach you i 
 
 to respect the bed of death and the afflictions of , 
 
 a widow." j 
 
 Saying which, he vigorously applied the but of ] 
 
 the gun to his ribs, until he had rendered him any ] 
 
 thing but disposed for further conflict. \ 
 
 Both victories were achieved much about the same i 
 
 i 
 
 time ; Raymond's opponent being far the more \ 
 
 severely punished of the two. \^niat, however, was j 
 their surprise after each had expelled his man from 
 the cabin, to find Steele down, his gun lying on one 
 side, O'Regan's wife fastened on his throat, and 
 himself panting and almost black in the face ! 
 
 " Here now," she exclaimed, " the battle of the
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 251 
 
 widow was well fought, and God gave iis strength. 
 Put this man out with the rest." 
 
 This was accordingly done, but as in the case of 
 his companions, the gun for the present was retained. 
 
 *' See now," she proceeded still in Irish, " what 
 the hand of a weak woman can do, when her heart 
 is strengthened by God, against cruelty and oppres- 
 sion. What made that strong man weak in my 
 grasp ? Because he knew that the weakness of the 
 widow was his shame — the touch of her hand took 
 away liis strength ; and what had he witliin or about 
 him to depend on ? could he look in upon his 
 wicked heart, and be strong? could he look upon 
 the darkness of a bad conscience, and be strong ? 
 could he look on me — upon my dead husband, and 
 his bed of death, and be strong ? No — and above 
 all, could he look up to the Almighty God in 
 heaven, and be strong — no — no — no — but from all 
 these /gained strength — for surely, surely, 1 had 
 it not in myself!" 
 
 She uttered these sentiments with wonderful 
 energy, and indeed, from the fire in her eye, and 
 the flush of her cheek, it was evident she was 
 highly excited. Father Roche who had been 
 engaged, and indeed, had enough to do in keep- 
 ing the poor child cjuiet and aloof from tlie fray.
 
 252 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 especially from his mother — now entreated that she 
 would endeavour to compose herself, as she had 
 reason to thank God, he said, that neither she 
 herself or her resolute defenders, had sustained any- 
 personal injury. She did not seem to have heard 
 him — for on looking on the hody of her husband 
 she almost bounded over to the bed, and kneeling 
 down rapturously, and in a spirit of enthusiastic 
 triumph, kissed his hps. 
 
 '^ Now, my husband," said she, " we have fought 
 and gained the victory — no insult did you get — no 
 dishonour on your lowly bed where you're sleepin' 
 your last sleep. Hugh, do you know, asthore, how 
 the wife of your heart fought for you ? Your own 
 poor, weak, sorrowful, heart-broken, but loving wife, 
 that was as feeble as an infant this mornin' ! But 
 who gave her the strength to put down a strong and 
 wicked man? The God — the good God — and to him 
 be the glory ! — in whose bosom you are now happy. 
 Ay, we conquered — ha — ha — ha — we conquered — 
 we conquered — ha — ha — ha !" 
 
 The dead body of Harper in the mean time had 
 been removed by his companions, who it was evident 
 felt as much, if not more bitterness at their own 
 defeat, than they did by the fatal accident which 
 deprived him of life.
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 253 
 
 Scarcely had the wild triumph of O 'Regan's wife 
 time to subside, when it soon became evident that 
 the tragical incidents of tliis bitter and melancholy- 
 morning were not yet completed. 
 
 The child alluded to by Harman in his first brief 
 conversation with Father Roche, had been for some 
 time past in a much more dangerous state than his 
 parents suspected, or at least than his unhappy 
 mother did, whose principal care was engrossed by 
 the situation of her husband. The poor boy, at all 
 times affectionate and uncomplaining, felt loath to 
 obtrude his httle wants and sufferings upon her 
 attention, knowing as he did, that owing to the 
 nursing of his father, she was scarcely permitted 
 three hours sleep out of the twenty -four. If he 
 could have been afforded even the ordinary comforts 
 of a sick bed, it is possible he might have recovered. 
 The only drink he could call for was " the black 
 water," as it is termed by the people, and his only 
 nutrition a dry potatoe, which he could not take ; 
 the bed he lay upon was damp straw, yet, did this 
 patient child never utter a syllable to dishearten his 
 mother, or deepen the gloom which hung over the 
 circumstances of the family, and his father's heart. 
 When asked how he was, he uniformly repHed 
 " better," and his large lucid eyes would faintly 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 254 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 smile upon his poor mother, as if to give her hope, 
 after which the desolate boy would amuse himself 
 by handling the bed-clothes as invalids often do, or 
 play with the humid straw of his cold and miserable 
 bed, or strive to chat with his mother. 
 
 These details are very painful to those whose 
 hearts are so elegantly and fashionably tender that 
 they recoil with humane horror from scenes of 
 humble wretchedness and destitution. It is good, 
 however, that they should be known to exist, for we 
 assure the great and wealthy that they actually do 
 exist, and may be found in all their sharpness and 
 melancholy truth, within the evening shadow which 
 falls from many a proud and wealthy dwelling in 
 this our native land. 
 
 After all it is likely, that had not the fearful 
 occurrences of this morning taken place, their sweet 
 boy might have been spared to them. The shock, 
 however, occasioned by the discharge of the gun, 
 and the noise of the conflict, acting upon a frame so 
 feeble, were more than he could bear. Be this as it 
 may, the constables were not many minutes gone, 
 when, to their surprise, he staggered back again out 
 of his little room, where Father Roche had placed 
 him, and tottering across the floor, slipped in the 
 deceased man's blood, and fell. The mother flew
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 255 
 
 to him, but Harman had already raised him up ; 
 when on his feet he looked at the blood and shud- 
 dered — a still more deadly paleness settled on his face 
 — his breath came short, and his hps got drj and 
 parched — he could not speak nor stand, had not 
 Harman supported him. He looked again at the 
 blood with horror, and then at his mother, whilst he 
 shrank up, as it were, into himself, and shivered 
 from head to foot. 
 
 " Darling of my heart," she exclaimed, " I under- 
 stand you. Bryan, our treasure, be a man for the 
 sake of your poor heart-broken mother — I will, I 
 will, my darling hfe, I will wipe it ojff of you, every 
 stain of it — why should such blood and my innocent 
 son come together ?" 
 
 She now got a cloth, and in a few moments left 
 not a trace of it upon him. He had not yet spoken, 
 but on finding himself cleansed from it, he stretched 
 out his hands, thereby intimating that he wished to 
 go to her. 
 
 " Do you not perceive a bottle on the shelf there ?'* 
 said Harman, " it contains wine which I brought 
 
 for his ," he checked himself; — " Alas ! my poor 
 
 boy," he exclaimed involuntarily, " you are doubly 
 dear to your mother noiu. Mix it with water," he 
 proceeded, " and give him a httle, it will strengthen 
 and revive him."
 
 256 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 '•' Better," said Father Roclie in a low voice, not 
 intended for his ear, " to put him back into his own 
 bed ; he is not now in a state to be made acquainted 
 with his woeful loss." 
 
 As he spoke the boy glanced at the corpse of his 
 father, and almost at the same moment his mother 
 put the wine and water to his lips. He was about 
 to taste it, but on looking into the little tin porringer 
 that contained it, he put it away from him, and 
 shuddered strongly. 
 
 " It's mixed with the blood," said he, " and I 
 can't ;" and again he put it away from him. 
 
 " Bryan, asthore," said his mother, "it's not blood; 
 sure it's wine that Mr. Harman, the blessin' of God 
 be upon liim, brought to you. 
 
 He turned away again, however, and- would not 
 take it. " Bring me to my father," said he, once 
 more stretcliing out liis arms towards his mother, 
 " let me stay a while with him." 
 
 " But he's asleep, Bryan," said Harman, " and I'm 
 sure you would not wish to awaken him " 
 
 " I would hke to kiss him then," he rephed, '' and 
 to sleep a while with him." 
 
 " Och, let him, poor darling," said his mother, as 
 she took him in her arms, " it may ease his Uttle 
 heart; and then he'll feel satisfied."
 
 THE IRISH AGENT, 257 
 
 '' Well, if you're allowed to go to him won't you 
 lie very quiet, and not speak so as to disturb liim ?" 
 said Harman. 
 
 " I'm tired," said the child, '' and I'd like to sleep 
 in his bed. I used sometimes to do it before, and my 
 father always kept his arms about me." 
 
 His mother's features became convulsed, and she 
 looked up in mute affliction to heaven ; but still, not- 
 withstanding her misery, she was unable to shed one 
 tear. 
 
 " Pulse of my heart," {cushla machree,) she said, 
 kissing him, " you must have your innocent and 
 lovin' wish." She then gently raised the bed-clothes 
 and placed him beside his father. 
 
 The poor pale boy sat up in the bed for about a 
 minute, during which he glanced at the still features 
 of the departed, then at his mother, and then at the 
 pool of blood on the floor, and again he shuddered. 
 All at once, however, he started, and looked about 
 him ; but in a manner that betokened dehght rather 
 than alarm — his eyes brightened — and an expression 
 almost of radiance settled upon his face, " Mother," 
 said he, " kiss me, and let Mr. Harman kiss me." 
 
 They both did so, and his poor mother felt her 
 heart relieved by the happiness depicted on his face. 
 " Glory be to God," she exclaimed, " sec what a
 
 258 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 change for the better has come over my blessed 
 child." 
 
 Father Roche looked at Harman, and shook his 
 head — '' Blessed he will be soon," said he, in a low 
 whisper, " the child is dying." 
 
 The boy started again, and the former serenity 
 lit up his pale features. 
 
 " Bryan, you are better, darling of my life ; you 
 look a thousand pounds better than you did awhile 
 ago." 
 
 The boy looked into her face and smiled. — " I 
 am," said he, "but did you not hear it?" 
 
 " Hear what, jewel of my heart ?" 
 
 '' There it is again ;" said he, looking eagerly and 
 dehghtedly about him, " my father's voice ; — that's 
 three times it called me, but it didn't come from the 
 bed, although he's in it. I will kiss him and then 
 sleep — but I will miss his arms from about me, I 
 think." 
 
 He then fixed himself beside that loving parent, 
 aided by his mother, and getting his arm around his 
 pulseless neck, he kissed him, and laying down his 
 fair head, he fell asleep in that affecting posture. 
 There was a solemn stillness for some minutes, and 
 a strange feehng of fear crept over his mother's 
 heart. She looked into the eyes of those who were
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 259 
 
 about her, but the looks they returned to her carried 
 no consolation to her spirit. 
 
 "My child," she exclaimed — "Oh, my child, what 
 is this ? Bryan, my life — my light, what ails you ?" 
 She stooped, and gently turning him about so as to 
 see his face, she looked keenly into it for a few mo- 
 ments, and there certainly was the same seraphic 
 expression which so lately Ht it up. Still she felt 
 dissatisfied, till putting her ear to his mouth and her 
 hand to his heart, the woeful truth became known 
 to her. The guiltless spirit of her fair-haired son 
 had followed that of his father. 
 
 When the afflicted widow saw the full extent of 
 her loss, she clasped her hands together, and rose 
 up with something of a hasty movement. She look- 
 ed about the miserable cabin for a moment, and then 
 peered into the face of every one in the room — all 
 of whom, with the exception of Raymond, were in 
 tears. She then pressed her temples, as if striving to 
 recollect what had happened — sat down again beside 
 her husband and child, and to their astonishment 
 began to sing an old and melancholy Irish air, in a 
 voice whose wild sweetness was in singular keeping 
 with its mournful spirit. 
 
 To the bystanders this was more affecting a thou- 
 sand times than the most vehement and outrageous
 
 260 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 grief. Father Roclie, however, who had had a much 
 more comprehensive experience than his companion, 
 knew, or at least hoped that it would not last long. 
 
 Several of the neighbours, having seen the dead 
 body of the constable borne away, suspected that 
 something extraordinary had occurred on the moun- 
 tain, and consequently came flocking to the cabin, anxi- 
 ous to know the truth. By this means theu^ acquaint- 
 ances were brought about them — aid in every shape, 
 as far as it could be afforded, was administered, and 
 in a short time they had a little stock of meal, but- 
 ter, milk, candles, and such other simple comforts 
 as their poor friends and neighbours had to bestow. 
 Such is the usual kindness of the Irish people to 
 each other in the moments of destitution and sorrow. 
 Nothing, on the present occasion, could surpass their 
 anxiety in ascertaining the wants of this unhappy fa- 
 mily ; and in such circumstances it is that the honest 
 promptings of the humble heart, and its sincere par- 
 ticipation in the calamities of its kindred poor, are 
 known to shine forth with a lustre, which nothing 
 but its distance from the observation of the great, or 
 their own wilful bhndness to it, could prevent it from 
 being seen and appreciated as it ought. 
 
 Having seen her surrounded by friends and neigh- 
 bours, Father Roche, after first offering, as far as
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 2(jl 
 
 he thought he could reasonably attempt it, some 
 kind advice and consolation, prepared to take his 
 departure with Harman, leaving Raymond behind 
 them, who indeed refused to go. " No," said he, 
 " I can feed Dickey here — but sure they'll want me 
 to run messages — I'm active and soople, an' I'll go 
 every place, for the widow can't. But tell me, is 
 the purty boy, the fair-haired boy asleep, or what ? 
 —tell me ?" 
 
 " Why do you ask, Raymond ?" said Father 
 Roche. 
 
 " Bekase I love him," rephed Raymond, " and I 
 hope he'll waken! I would like to see him kiss his 
 father again — but I'm afeard somehow I never will. 
 If he wakens I'll give him the cock any how — bad 
 luck to me but I will." 
 
 '' Hush," said the priest, whilst a tear started to 
 his eye at this most artless exhibition of affection 
 for the child — " don't swear, Raymond. The sweet 
 boy will never waken in this world ; but he will in 
 heaven, where he is awake already, and where you 
 will see him again." 
 
 " I would rather see him here," rephed the other; 
 " and I wish I had gev him the cock first, when he 
 came out of the room ; but what'll she do without 
 his white head before her ? — what'll she do. and not
 
 262 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 have tJmt to look at ? But stop," said Raymond — 
 " wait a minute, and we'll soon see whether he'll 
 waken or not." 
 
 He then went into the little room where the poor 
 child had lain during his illness, and immediately 
 returned, bearing the cock in his hands — 
 
 " Wait," said he ; "I was bringing the bird to 
 poor little Bryan, for I promised it to him. We'll 
 see — we'll see." 
 
 As he uttered the words, he placed the bird down 
 on the child's bosom, and called out — 
 
 " Bryan, here's your present for you, that I pro- 
 mised you — won't you waken ? — spake — open your 
 blue eyes, achora machree, and look at the fine 
 bird I brought you." 
 
 It was a most affecting little incident ; for the con- 
 trast between the fiery scintillations that flashed 
 from the eye of the noble bird, and the utter un- 
 broken stillness of death, as its character was so 
 mournfully impressed upon the fair sweet features 
 of innocence, was indeed such as few parental hearts 
 could withstand. Raymond looked awhile, as if 
 even he had been struck by it. 
 
 " Ah no," said he, going down to his mother ; 
 " no, Mary, he will never waken — and then what 
 will you do for Bryan's white head?"
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 263 
 
 " Whisht !" she replied ; " whisht, and I'll sing 
 you a song. I have nothing else to do now but to 
 sing and be happy — 
 
 ' ' ' Farewell father, farewell mother, 
 
 Farewell friends, and farewell foes ; 
 I now will go and court some other, 
 
 For love it was the causer of all my woes.' 
 
 " An' so it was," she said ; " for I did love some 
 one, I think ; but who they were, or where they are 
 gone to, I cannot tell. Is your name," she added, 
 her eye blazing as she spoke to Raymond, " is your 
 nameM'Clutchy?" 
 
 " Say it is," suggested one of the neighbours ; 
 "may be it may startle the poor thing into her 
 senses." 
 
 " That's not very likely," repHed another, " for 
 it has startled her out of them — God in his mercy 
 pity her !" 
 
 Raymond, however, adopted the first suggestion, 
 without knowing why ; and said in a loud voice — 
 
 " Ay is it ; my name is Val the Vulture, that 
 commands the blood-hounds." 
 
 The creature started — became for a moment as 
 if convulsed — then proceeded at a speed that was 
 incredible, screaming frightfully, across the dark
 
 264 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, ETC. 
 
 and desolate scenery that surrounded the house. 
 It was in vam to pursue her ; for there was none 
 there capable of doing it with success, unless Ray- 
 mond, who understood not that she had become 
 insane.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A DIALOGUE, EXHIBITING SINGULAR PRINCIPLES OF JUS- 
 TICE — Solomon's tracts and triumph — a sincere 
 
 CONVERT darby's VIEWS OF RELIGION POLL DOO- 
 
 LIN's HONESTY — SOLOMOn's CHRISTIAN GENEROSITY 
 
 TO A MAN IN DIFFICULTY M'LOUGHLIN AND HIS 
 
 FAMILY. 
 
 The extraordinary scene which we have just 
 detailed as occurring in the mountain hut, took 
 place on Saturday morning, and about twelve on 
 the subsequent Monday, the following dialogue 
 passed between honest Val and his son, Philip the 
 graceful. 
 
 " That was a most unlucky accident that happened 
 Harpur on Saturday," said Val, dryly, and looking 
 with a good deal of significance at the other. 
 
 " Unlucky," said Phil, '' faith and honour, my 
 good father, I don't know what to think." 
 
 " You don't, Phil !" rephed Val; " why, what the 
 deuce could you deem more unlucky than to be shot 
 stone dead, without a moment's notice." 
 
 Phil's colour went a little at the bare notion of 
 such a fate ; but on observing an expression of
 
 266 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 peculiar complacency lurking in Ms father's eye, it 
 returned again, and after a little assurance settled 
 down into its original hue. 
 
 " To himself certainly," said Phil, " it was a bad 
 business ; no one can deny that." 
 
 "But, my excellent son, Phil, it may turn out a 
 very lucky incident for us in the mean time. He 
 is, Phil, a wise man in this world who can turn the 
 misfortunes or crimes of others to his own advantage. 
 There is Harman for instance, Phil ; now I beheve 
 you are not excessively attached to him." 
 
 '' I hate him as I do hell," replied Phil. 
 
 "Very good — you hate him as you do hell — • 
 well, on the other hand, there is M'Loughlin, his 
 partner in the manufactory, and his joint lessee in 
 their farm — now I hate him as I do — I was about 
 to say the devil — but I feel loth to render that 
 misrepresented gentleman an injustice — that is, if 
 there be such a gentlemen — which with my worthy 
 father I much doubt. Don't you tliink now it is a 
 fortunate thing that we can indict Harman for 
 Harpur's murder. I really think, and it is said, he 
 murdered him. We would include the priest in the 
 indictment as an accessory, but that might be at- 
 tended with personal danger — and the less real 
 danger we incur the better for ourselves."
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 267 
 
 " Faith and honour, father, that doctrine 's worthy 
 of an oracle — as indeed, most of what you say is." 
 
 " But mark me, Phil ; our object is simply his 
 ruin, not his death. Let us beggar M'Loughlin and 
 him, and drive them out of the country. No — no — 
 not the death of either of them ; on the contrary, I 
 should wish them to hve, if it was only that they 
 might feel my revenge — and that I knew they felt it. 
 I would not hang them if I could, for my own sake." 
 He got pale, ground his teeth, knit his black beetle 
 brows, and exhibited that diabolical cast of features 
 for which he was remarkable whenever his evil 
 passions began to stir in his heart. 
 
 " Now," said he to Phil, " keep a close mouth 
 above all things, for we must proceed with caution. 
 I have here a letter from Lord Cumber, in which, 
 at my private suggestion, he declines to renew their 
 leases. Indeed, on serious consideration, I have 
 recently advised him to grant no renewals, except 
 in cases where every reliance can be placed upon 
 the principles of the parties. The want of a lease 
 is a very wholesome restriction on the conduct of our 
 enemies. M'SUme opposes me in this, because he 
 cannot pocket as much as usual ; but although I 
 cannot readily break with him, still, I trust, that in 
 a short time I shall be able to turn his flank in a
 
 268 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 manner for which he is but little prepared. I have 
 reason to think he is tampering with O' Drive — in 
 fact O'Drive told me as much — O'Drive, however, is 
 at work for me, although honest Solomon does not 
 suspect him. The pious attorney, who is bestowing 
 more of his attention to religion than ever, has got 
 bitten by the Conversion mania, and thinks he will 
 be charged with a neglect of his gifts, as he calls 
 them, unless he can produce a live convert actually 
 made by his own hands. I accordingly suggested 
 to O'Drive to consult him on some rehgious scruples 
 that he is supposed to have felt from the perusal of 
 a tract written by M' Slime himself." 
 
 " Why," said Pliil, " are you not aware that he 
 gave me three or four dozen of them for gratuitous 
 distribution, as he calls it. Yes, it is called * The 
 Religious Attorney,' being a reconcilement between 
 honesty and law, or a blessed union between light 
 and darkness ; by Solomon M' Slime, attorney at 
 law." 
 
 " Which tract," continued Val, '' was written for 
 the sole purpose of recommending himself to the 
 notice of the religious world aforesaid, more, by the 
 way, as an attorney than as a Christian. And a 
 very good speculation it proved, for, whereas he was 
 then scarcely able to make both ends meet by mere
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 269 
 
 professional roguery, and dressed in a black gown — 
 wliich you know he always wears in court — yet he no 
 sooner threw the cloak of religion over that, than he 
 advanced rapidly — and the consequence is that he 
 is now privately a usurious discounter of bills." 
 
 " Faith and honour, now, father, do you tell me 
 so?" 
 
 " It's fact, Phihp, my son, and what is more — but 
 the truth is, that neither he nor I can afford to 
 quarrel with each other." 
 
 '' Why, father ? what's that ' more' you were 
 going to add ?" 
 
 " At this present time, Phil, it must be secret — 
 but it is arranged between him and me, that he is 
 to succeed Harman in Beleveen ; whilst you are to 
 come in for M'Loughhn's holding." 
 
 " For which I shall have the pleasure to drink 
 your health to-night, my old boy — upon my honour 
 and soul you are an excellent old cock, and I'm very 
 proud of you." 
 
 " Go ahead, Phil; no nonsense. But stay, are those 
 fellows of mine come yet? — I shall receive their infor- 
 mations, and have Harman in the stone jug before 
 night. It is a bad case of murder committed upon 
 a man in the execution of the law, do you see, Phil, 
 and consequently I cannot take bail." 
 
 VOL. I i
 
 270 VAJLENTNE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 " No, certainly not, captain — as Darby says, 
 certainly not, plaise your worship — ha, ha, ha !" 
 
 " Come, Phil, keep quiet ; it is now time that ope- 
 rations should seriously commence. I have gained 
 most of my points, thank — Valentine M'Clutchy, at 
 all events. I am Head Agent ; you are my Deputy — 
 Master of an Orange Lodge — a Magistrate, and write 
 J. P. after my name — Captain and Paymaster in the 
 Castle Cumber cavalry, and you Lieutenant ; — and 
 though last, not least, thanks to my zeal and activity 
 in the Protestant cause, I am at length a member of 
 the Grand Panel of the county. Phil, my boy, there 
 is nothing like religion and loyalty when well 
 managed, but otherwise — " 
 
 " They are not worth a feather," replied Phil ; 
 *' right, captain — there's an oracle again." 
 
 '* And, Phil, my son, what is there wrong in 
 this ? In fact there is scarcely a better capital to 
 trade on than religion and loyalty. You know what 
 I mean, Phil ; — not the things, if there he such things, 
 which I must beg leave to doubt ; but that principle 
 which causes one man toliate another, in proportion 
 to its influence over him." 
 
 " Ay," said Phil, ''just as you and I, who have 
 not got a touch of religion in our whole composition, 
 have the character of beino; two of the staunchest 
 Protestants in the county."
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 271 
 
 " Yes,*' replied the father, " and in this case the 
 fiction is as good and better than the truth. The 
 fiction, Phil, under which our rehgion appears is 
 our own interests — no, I am wrong — the fiction 
 under which our interest appears is our rehgion — 
 that is the way of it ; and the truth is, Phil, that 
 ninety-nine men out of every hundred will go ninety - 
 nine miles for their interests, before they will go one 
 for either religion or truth — that's the way of it, 
 too. However, pass that — now about Poll Doolin 
 and the hint I gave you ?" 
 
 " Why, you know, at that time matters were not 
 ripe for it. Don't you remember telling me so your- 
 self?" 
 
 "I do, but I speak of your present intentions." 
 
 " Faith, my present intentions would be to marry 
 the girl. Papist though she be, if I could ; but as that's 
 out of the question, I will now follow up your hint." 
 
 *' Then you had better see Poll, and go on with 
 it. Are you aware, besides, that the concern is tot- 
 tering ?" 
 
 *' The manufactory ? No — is that possible ?" 
 
 " It is a fact ; but you know not how honest So- 
 lomon and I have been at work. It is tottering, 
 Lieutenant M'Clutchy, and in a short time you will 
 see what you shall see."
 
 272 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 " Well," said Phil, ''so far every thing is turning 
 out very fortunate for us — but I think. Captain, that 
 you are one of those men who are born under what 
 they call a lucky planet ; — eh ? old boy ?" 
 
 " Well, I think so ; but in the mean time see Poll 
 Doolin, and after that pay a visit to my father. The 
 old scoundrel is upon liis last legs, and there can be 
 no harm in paying liim some attention now. You are 
 not a favourite of his ; so smooth him down as much 
 as you can. I don't myself expect that he will 
 remember either of us in his will ; but, as he is hasty 
 and capricious, it is difficult to say what effect a 
 favourable impression might have upon him." 
 
 '' Neither are you Si favourite with Isabel, or 
 Jezabel, as he calls her." 
 
 " No, I made a bad move there — but, after all, 
 what did I, or rather, what could I lose by neglecting 
 her '? Did she not succeed in banishing every 
 one of his relatives from about him ? It was neither 
 her interest nor her inchnation to keep in with his 
 friends : — go and see him, at all events ; reconnoitre, 
 and report accordingly — and now if these fellows 
 are come let them be sent in. 
 
 Phil accordingly withdrew to follow up his own 
 speculations, and in a few minutes our friends, who 
 so bravely distinguished themselves in the widow's 
 cabin, entered the office
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 273 
 
 Val, like most men of his class and experience, 
 was forced to undergo strong contests between the 
 vanity occasioned by his success in hfe, and his own 
 shrewd sense and acute perception of character. 
 "Whenever he could indulge that vanity without 
 allowing its gratification to be perceived by others, 
 he always did so ; but if he happened to have a 
 person to deal with, whom he suspected of a suffi- 
 ciently keen penetration, his own sagacity always 
 checked its display. No man ever puzzled him so 
 thoroughly as O'Drive, who so varied and timed his 
 flattery, as to keep him in a state of perpetual alter- 
 nation between a perception of the fellow's knavery, 
 and a behef m his simpHcity of heart. On one 
 occasion he would exclaim to liimself or Phil, " This 
 O'Drive is a desperate knave, — it's impossible that he 
 can be honest ;" and again, '• Well, well ; there is too 
 much simpUcity there, too much truth unnecessarily 
 told, to allow me to consider that poor devil a rogue 
 — no, he is honest." The consequence was, that 
 Darby flattered him, and he relished it so strongly 
 because he did not imagine it was intentional, that 
 Darby understood his weak points, in that respect, 
 better than any man Uving. This, in a country where 
 the people are shrewd observers in general, could 
 scarcely be supposed to escape their observation ;
 
 274 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY^ 
 
 nor did it. Darby's manner was so naturally imitated 
 by others, that even the keen and vigilant Valentine 
 M'Clutchy was frequently over-reached without 
 being at all conscious of the fact. 
 
 When the men of the Castle Cumber corps came 
 in, they found their captain sitting, or rather lolhng, 
 in a deep seated arm-chair, dressed in a morning 
 gown and red morocco slippers. He was, or appeared 
 to be, deeply engaged over a pile of papers, parch- 
 ments, and letters, and for about a minute raised 
 not his head. At length he drew a long breath, and 
 exclaimed in a soliloquy — "just so, my Lord, just so; 
 every man that scruples to support the Protestant 
 interests will meet no countenance from you ; — * nor 
 shall he, Mr. M'Clutchy, from you, as my repre- 
 sentative,' you add — 'and I beg you' — he went on to 
 read a few hues further — ' to transmit me the names 
 and capacities of all those who are duly active on 
 my property in suppressing disturbance, convicting 
 criminals, and preserving the peace ; especially those 
 who are remarkable for loyal and constitutional 
 principles ; such are the men we will cherish, such 
 are the men we must and ought to serve.' It is very 
 true, my Lord, it is very true indeed, and — " oh ! 
 my good friends I beg your pardon! I hadn't noticed 
 you — oh, dear me ! how is this ? why I didn't
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 275 
 
 imagine you had been so sadly abused as all this 
 comes to — this is dreadful, and all in resisting the 
 king's warrant against the murderer. But how did 
 it happen that this Harman murdered our poor 
 friend Harpur ?" 
 
 " Harpur is done for, captain, sure enough ; there's 
 no doubt of that." 
 
 " Well, it's one comfort that we live in a country 
 where there is justice, my friends. Of course you 
 will prosecute him for this diabohcal murder ; I sent 
 for you to receive your informations, and we shall 
 lodge him in gaol before night." 
 
 "I would rather prosecute that blackguard Rimon a 
 Hattha,"said a man, whose head was awfully swollen 
 and bound up with a handkerchief, " Rimon, captain, 
 is the greatest rascal of the two — he is, by Japurs." 
 
 " Yes, but is he not an idiot, Johnston ? In point 
 of law he is only a fiction, and cannot be prosecuted." 
 
 " Fiction, captain ? Sowl, I don't know what you 
 call a fiction — but if I'm guessin' properly, hell to 
 the much of it was in his blows — look at how my 
 head is, and I wish you could see my ribs, plaise 
 your worship." 
 
 " Well, but let us come to the most important 
 matter first — and before I go further, my friends 
 and brothers, I would just throw out for your satis-
 
 276 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 faction a few observations that I wish to impress 
 upon you. Recollect that in this business, and in 
 every business like it, you must have the pleasure at 
 least of reflecting that you have now a magistrate 
 who will see that all due care is taken of your 
 interests — who will accompany your proceedings step 
 by step, and see that all is as it ought to be. That 
 is not partiality, my dear friends ; that is not favour 
 nor affection, nor leaning to you ; no, nor, — ha, ha, 
 ha, leaning from you either, my friends." 
 
 " Long hfe to your worship ! Long life to you, 
 captain ! You're the right sort, and no mistake." 
 
 *' M'Dowel, what detained you from your lodge 
 on Thursday night ?" 
 
 " I was buying a springer in Rush fair, and didn't 
 get home in time, your worship." 
 
 " Well, M'Dowel, mark me, — I neither can, nor 
 will, overlook neglect in these matters. The man 
 that neglects them wilfully, is a man I won't depend 
 upon — and two of your neighbours were absent 
 from parade on Wednesday week. Now, it's really too 
 bad to expect that I, or any other gentleman in the 
 country, will exert ourselves so strenuously to sustain 
 and extend our own principles, or to speak plainly, to 
 keep them up, — to maintain our ascendancy, — if we 
 cannot reckon upon the earnest and cordial support
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 277 
 
 of those for whose sake we take all this trouble — 
 upon my honour it's a shame." 
 
 " It is a shame, captain, and I say that here's one," 
 placing his hand upon his heart, " of the right kidney. 
 By the holy William, there is." 
 
 " We're all so, your worship," replied Sharpe, 
 and sure every one knows it — " but, plaise your 
 honour, what's to be done about Harman ?" 
 
 " Why, prosecute him for the murder of course." 
 
 " But then," said one of them, " sure Harman 
 didn't murder him, captain — among ourselves, it was 
 all accident." 
 
 M'Clutchy seemed surprised at this, and after 
 hearing theu^ individual opinions, which, indeed, 
 conflicted very much, some positively asserting that 
 he did, and others that he did not, murder the man, 
 he began to view the matter in a somewhat different 
 and more cautious light. He mused for some time, 
 however, and after a second and more deliberate 
 investigation, finding that there were two for the 
 murder and only one against it, he at length took 
 their informations resolving to bring the matter to 
 trial at all hazards. The warrant for Harman's 
 apprehension was accordingly issued, and entrusted 
 to about a dozen of the most resolute fellows in his 
 corps ; who so far enabled our magistrate to fulfil
 
 278 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 liis intention, that they lodged his enemy in the 
 county prison that very night. 
 
 The next morning, when reading the papers, our 
 captain was not a ' httle surprized at reading in one 
 of them an advertisement to tl/e following effect : — 
 
 " To the Pubhc— Found, in the office of Mr. 
 Solomon M' Slime, a Bank of Ireland Note, of large 
 amount. The person losing it may have it by giving 
 a proper description of same, and paying the ex- 
 penses of this advertisement. N.B. — It is expected, 
 as the loser of the note must be in affluent circum- 
 stances, that he will, from principles of Christian 
 sympathy, contribute, or enable some Christian 
 friend to contribute, a moderate donation to some of 
 our greatest public charities. Thus will that which 
 at the first view, appears to be a serious calamity, 
 be made, under Him, a blessing and a consolation, 
 not only to the wealthy individual who lost the 
 money, but to some of our destitute fellow creatures. 
 This, however, is not named as a condition, but 
 merely as a suggestion, offered from motives of 
 benignity and duty. 
 
 " Also, just pubHshed, the Religious Attorney ; 
 being a reconcilement between Honesty and Law ; 
 or a blessed Union between Light and Darkness. 
 By S. M^S. Tenth Thousand.
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 279 
 
 " Also, in the Press, and will soon be published, 
 done up neatly in foolscap, and rogue's binding for 
 cheapness, by the same author, the Converted 
 Bailiff; being designed as a companion to the Reli- 
 gious Attorney. These productions need not be 
 sought for with any of the profane booksellers of the 
 city ; but only at the Religious Depositories, or at 
 those godly estabhshments in Sackville-street and 
 College-green." 
 
 This, however, was not all. In a different column 
 appeared the following ; which, however, did not 
 surprise M'Clutchy : — 
 
 " Glorious Triumph of Religious Truth! 
 " In another part of our paper, our readers will 
 perceive in an advertisement, an additional proof, if 
 such were necessary, of the strong integrity of that 
 ornament to his profession, both as an Attorney and 
 Christian, Mr. Solomon M'Shme. This gentleman, 
 whilst he devotes lumself, with a pure and guileless 
 heart, to the extensive practice which his high prin- 
 ciples and great skill have gained him in his pro- 
 fession, does not neglect the still higher and more 
 important interests of himself and his fellow crea- 
 tures. It is a gracious thing to know that a spirit 
 of deep and earnest inquiry is now abroad, by whicli 
 hundreds arc, under God, brought from darkness to
 
 280 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 light — from the gall of bitterness and the bond of 
 iniquity, out into the freedom of perfect day. Verily 
 there is a New Reformation abroad — the strongholds 
 of Popery are fast falling one after another. In the 
 neighbourhood of Mount-starve-'em, the spirit has 
 been poured out most abundantly ; and this mani- 
 festation is the more gracious, when we reflect that 
 the dreadful famine which now prevails throughout 
 the country, has been made (always under Him) the 
 precious but trying means of bringing the poor be- 
 nighted creatures to taste the fruits of a better faith. 
 Nothing, indeed, can equal the bounty of that excel- 
 lent nobleman, Lord , who supplies beef and 
 
 blankets — bibles and bread — to those who may 
 be likened to the multitude that were fed so miracu- 
 lously in the wilderness — that is to say, who followed 
 the good shepherd for his doctrine, and were filled 
 with bread. Mr. M' Slime, who has within his own 
 humble sphere not been inactive, can boast at least 
 of having plucked one brand out of the burning, in 
 the person of Darby O'Drive, the respectable 
 bailiff of Valentine M'Clutchy, Esq., the benevolent 
 agent of the Castle Cumber estate — to which Mr. 
 M' Slime himself is law agent. It is understood that 
 on next Sabbath (d. v.) Mr. O'Drive will make a 
 public profession of his faith — or, in other words, 
 " that he will recant the errors of Popery, and em-
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 281 
 
 brace those of Protestantism."* The merit of his 
 conversion is due — but merit there is none — to Mr. 
 M'SHme, or rather to his two very popular and 
 searcliing tracts, called ' Spiritual Food for Babes of 
 Grace,' and ' The Rehgious Attorney,' which he 
 had placed for perusal m Mr. O'Drive's hands. Mr. 
 O'Drive now declares himself a Babe of Grace, and 
 free from the bonds of sin ; or, as he more simply, 
 but truthfully and characteristically expresses it — a 
 beautiful specimen indeed of his simphcity of views 
 — " he is replevined from the pound of human frailty 
 — no longer hkely to be brought to the devil's auc- 
 tion, or knocked down to Satan as a bad bargain." 
 For ourselves, we cannot help thinking that this 
 undoubted triumph of religious truth, in the person 
 of Mr. Darby O'Drive, is as creditable to the zeal 
 of Mr. M'Slime, as it is to his sincerity. Encouraged 
 by this great success, Mr. M'SUme, seconded by 
 several of our leading controversiaUsts, has suc- 
 ceeded in getting up a polemical discussion, on the 
 merits of the Protestant and Popish creeds. The 
 particulars have not been decided upon, but they 
 shall probably appear in an early number of our 
 paper. In the mean time we are authorised by Mr. 
 
 * This expression has been attriliuted to Faulkner, the printer of 
 Swift's works ; but it is much more likely that it belongs to the 
 Dean himself.
 
 282 
 
 Darby O'Drive to issue a formal challenge to any- 
 Popish and idolatrous bailiff in Ireland, to discuss 
 with him the relative powers, warrants, processes, 
 triumphs, conflagrations, and executions of their re- 
 spective churches." 
 
 He had scarcely finished this characteristic para- 
 graph, when O'Drive's knock, as usual, was heard, 
 and in a few minutes the redoubted champion and 
 challenger entered. There was a knavish demure- 
 ness about him, and a kind of comic solemnity in liis 
 small cunning grey eye, that no painter could copy. 
 
 '' Why, you scoundrel," said Val, " you're over- 
 doing the thing altogether ; is it possible that 
 M' Slime is such a spooney as not to see through 
 you?" 
 
 '' Ah, captain, you don't make any allowance for 
 my simplicity — sure you know, sir, I must grow 
 young and innocent, if I'm to become a babe of grace, 
 your worship." 
 
 " But what's the meaning of all this work about 
 discussions and such stuff ?" 
 
 ''Faith, sir, it's all thrue enough at any rate; 
 we're to have a rehgious field day here in the Sessions 
 house of Castle Cumber ; the whole thing is regu- 
 lated — the seconds, and bottle boulders, and all is 
 appointed. There's the Rev. Christopher Gammon, 
 Rev. Vesuvius M'Slug, who's powerful against popery
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 283 
 
 — the Rev. Bernard Brimstone, and the Rev. Phineas 
 Lucre, with many more, on the side of thruth. On 
 that of Popery and falsehood there's the Rev. Father 
 Mistake, the Rev. Father OTlary,the Rev. Father 
 M'Fu'e, and the Rev. Nicholos O'Scorch, D.D. Dr. 
 Sombre is to be second on our side ; and Father 
 M'Fud on the part of Popery and idolatry." 
 
 " And when is this precious spouting match to 
 take place, you rascal ?" 
 
 " Why, Sir, on Monday week ; and on next Sun- 
 day, Sir, I'm to read my rekintation, plase God." 
 
 " But I didn't intend that you should go to such 
 lengths as that — however, that's your own affair." 
 
 " But, captain ahagur, sure it's on your account 
 I'm doin' it — won't it enable me to get the bhnd side 
 of him about one or two things we want to come at." 
 
 " Indeed, I believe certainly, that if he has a bhnd 
 side at all, it is his own hypocrisy." 
 
 " Be my sowl, and it'll go hard or we'll worm out 
 the sacret we want. There is one thing I'm sartin 
 of, he thinks, now that I'm turnin' by the way, that 
 I'm ready to desart and desave you, captain — an' 
 indeed he says many things of you that he ought not 
 to say." 
 
 " Let us hear them." 
 
 " Why, sir, he said the other day — but sorra one 
 o' me likes to be repeatin' these things."
 
 284 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 '' Come, come, you rascal, out with it." 
 
 " He said, Sir, that he feared the divil had a 
 hard ho wit o' you — that was the day I brought him 
 the last letter. Sir — that your heart, captain, was 
 full o' desate, and damnably wicked, plase your 
 worship, and that if you didn't improve your morals 
 you'd go where there is — something about gnashing 
 of teeth, your honour." 
 
 •' He's a double distilled scoundrel," rephed Val 
 bitterly, '' and although I know him well, I am 
 determined still, to know him better." 
 
 '' Double distilled ! — ay, faith, rectified many de- 
 grees above proof; but never mind; if I don't put a 
 spoke in his wheel, I'm not here." 
 
 " Well, never mind now, either — give the hypo- 
 critical little scoundrel this letter." 
 
 " I will, and thank you, captain ! God bless your 
 honour, and grant you ' long to reign over us, happy 
 and glorious, God save the king ! amin.' You see, 
 captain, I've the right strain of loyalty in me any 
 how, ha, ha, ha! Throth, if I ever change in 
 airnest, it isn't among the yallow belhes I'll go ; but 
 into his majesty's own church, captain Val — the 
 brave church where they have the bells, and the big 
 blessed lookin' bishops, and their organs and coaches ; 
 aye, faith, and where every thing is dacent and
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 285 
 
 gintlemanly. Sure blood alive, captain Val, beggin' 
 your pardon, what's the use of a religion if it's not 
 respectable and ginteel? What signifies a ministher of 
 any rehgion, if he hasn't a fat purse in his pocket, and 
 a good round belly before him, for that shows, plaise 
 your worship, that rehgion is more than a name, any 
 how; — an' upon my conscience — oh, holy Moses, cap- 
 tain Val, if M'Slime was to hear me swearin'this way ! 
 God pardon me ! howandever, but upon my consci- 
 ence, it isn't the rehgion that keeps a man poor, but the 
 religion that puts the flesh on his bones, and keeps it 
 there, that is the right one — aye, and not only that, 
 but that keeps a good coat to his back, your honour 
 and a good pair of breeches to his posterals — 
 for which raison, whenever I do sariously turn, it'll 
 be — but you may guess — it'll be to the only true and 
 loyal church ; — for when a man can get both fat, and 
 loyal, and rehgious, all at one move, he's a confounded 
 fool that won't become religious." 
 
 This certainly, though not intended, for it was a 
 true and bitter comment upon the principles of such 
 men as M'Clutchy, who considered a profane and 
 licentious attachment to a mere Estabhshment as a 
 high duty, not because that establishment was the ex- 
 ponent of divine truth ; but of a mere political symbol, 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 286 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 adopted by subordinate and secular aids, to bind 
 men of the same principles together." 
 
 " Begone, you rascal, and confound your disser- 
 tation. Go and dehver the letter, as I desired you, 
 and bring an answer." 
 
 " Sartinly, captain, and will have an eye about 
 me, into the bargain. How is captain Phil, Sir, 
 before I go ?" 
 
 M^Clutchy made a motion of indignation, but could 
 not, in the mean time, altogether repress a smile ; 
 and Darby taking his hat with a kind of shrewd and 
 confidential grin, ran out of the office. 
 
 Our narrative now passes to the house of Poll 
 Doolin, which was situated in a row of cottages 
 towards the north side of Castle Cumber. Her son 
 Raymond, and she, were its only inmates, and the 
 former was in the act of replacing a hat among the 
 tria juncta in uno, which he always wore. 
 
 " Raymond," said his mother, " now that you've 
 got your supper, you must keep house till I come 
 back." 
 
 " Must 1 indeed ? — why must I ? answer me that, 
 there now, that's one." 
 
 " Becase I'm goin' out on business." 
 
 " What business ? — where to ? — what brought
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 287 
 
 Phil M'Clutchy here yestherday ? — tell me that— 
 eh?" 
 
 " Oh, I couldn't tell you that, Raymond." 
 
 " Don't do anything for Phil, he's Val's son, that 
 keeps the blood hounds. Ah, poor Bryan, and his 
 white head — no, he'll never waken — never waken — 
 an' what has she now to look at ! Mother, I'd give 
 all the cocks I ever had to see him and his white 
 head in his mother's arms again — God's curse on 
 Val ! God's curse on him ! I hate him — I hate Phil 
 — I hate all of them — don't, mother ; do nothing for 
 them." 
 
 " You foolish boy, what do you know about it ? 
 — keep the house till I come back, and I'll bring you 
 a pennyworth of tobaccy ?" 
 
 "But you will go," said Raymond. 
 
 " I must, you fool." 
 
 " Very well, then, take it out o' that — there now, 
 that's one." 
 
 It was now drawing on towards dusk, and Poll 
 assuming her black bonnet, and throwing her black 
 cloak about her shoulders, sallied out with that fur- 
 tive air which always accompanies one who is con- 
 scious of something that requires concealment. Her 
 motions always were rapid, but on this occasion she 
 walked like one whose mind brooded over difficulties
 
 288 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 — sometimes she went very quick, then slackened 
 her pace, and once or twice stood still, musing with 
 her right hand to her chin. At length she reached 
 the residence of Bryan M'Loughlin, just after night 
 had set in — she entered not, but glided about the 
 house, waited, watched, listened, and peeped into 
 the house, very like a thief that was setting the 
 premises. Ultimately she took her stand at a par- 
 ticular window in the rere of the building, where she 
 kept watch with great patience, though for what pur- 
 pose it would appear very difficult to guess. Patience, 
 however, is often rewarded, and it was so in the case 
 before us. After about half an hour a light fell 
 through the glass, and Poll avaihng herself of the 
 opportunity, tapped gently : at first it was not 
 noticed, and she tapped again, somewhat louder ; 
 this was successful — a gentle voice inquired in tones 
 more of surprise than alarm, " who is there, and 
 what is your business ?" 
 
 " A friend," said Poll. 
 
 *' Poll Doolin !" 
 
 " The same, and I'm here on a case of life and 
 death. Could you come out for a start — three 
 minutes will do." 
 
 " Certainly not— you trifled unnecessarily with my 
 feeUngs before — I will have no more mysteries. I
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 289 
 
 can raise the window, however, and any thing you 
 have to say can be said where we stand." She 
 raised the sash as she spoke, " Now," said she, 
 " what is your business. Poll ?" 
 
 " Life and death, as I said," replied Poll, " do 
 you not know that Mr. Harman is to be tried for 
 murder, and that the assizes will open in a few 
 days?" 
 
 " Unfortunately I do," repHed Mary, sighing 
 deeply, '' but there can be no doubt of his acquittal. 
 Father Roche has been here, who was present, and 
 told us how the whole circumstances occurred." 
 
 " I don't doubt that," said Poll, " but this I tell 
 you, and this you may rely on, that hang he will, in 
 spite of fate ; he's doomed." 
 
 " Great God !" exclaimed the now terrified girl, 
 *' you chill the blood in my veins — doomed ! — what 
 do you mean, Poll ?" 
 
 " M'Clutchy will have him hanged in spite of all 
 opposition — you know his power now — he can carry 
 every thing his own way." 
 
 " I know," rephed the other, '' that his influence 
 is unfortunately great, no doubt, and cruelly is it 
 exercised ; but still, I don't know that he can carry 
 everything his own way." 
 
 " Do you know what packing a jury means?"
 
 290 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 " Alas !" replied Mary, starting, and getting pale, 
 " I do indeed, Poll. I have heard of it too frequently." 
 
 " What, then, has the Vulture, the blood-hound, 
 to do but to get twelve Orangemen upon the jury, 
 and the work is done ?" 
 
 The unhappy girl burst into tears, and wrung her 
 hands, for, however questionable the veracity of her 
 present informant, she knew, from the unfortunate 
 circumstances of the country, that such corrupt 
 influences had too frequently been exerted. 
 
 " Don't you know," added Poll, " that the thing 
 can be done ? Isn't the sheriff himself an Orange- 
 man — isn't the sub-sheriff an Orangeman — isn't the 
 grand jury Orange, aren't they all Orange through 
 other ?" 
 
 *' I believe so, indeed," said Mary, still weeping 
 bitterly, " and there is, I fear, little or no hope." 
 
 "Well, but," replied Poll, "what if I could give 
 you hope ?" 
 
 " You, Poll, what can you mean ? You !" 
 
 " Yes, me," said Poll, " poor as I stand here now.'* 
 
 " Well, but how ?" 
 
 " Through them that can turn ould Val the Vulture 
 round their finger. What do you think brought me 
 here — or who do you think sent me ? Don't you 
 know that I have no raison to like a bone in the
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 
 
 291 
 
 skin of one o' your family, and that it's more, of 
 coorse, to plaise others than myself that I'm here ; but, 
 over and above that, you, Miss M'Loughlin, never 
 offended or injured me, and I'm wilhn' to sarve you 
 in this business, if you will sarve yourself." 
 
 " But, how— but, how ?" replied the distracted 
 girl, " only tell me how ?" 
 
 " There is one, and only one, that can twist 
 Val round his finger, and in this same business 
 is wilHng to do so — and that one is liis own son, 
 Phil." 
 
 Mary stood for a moment without even breathing ; 
 indeed, she exhibited strong symptoms of disgust at 
 his very name, 
 
 " He is a person I detest," she rephed, " beyond 
 any human creature." 
 
 " That may be," said Poll, " but still he can save 
 the man that is to be your husband ; and that's what 
 you ought to tliink of — the time is short now, and 
 the loss of a day may ruin all. Listen, Miss 
 M'Loughhn : — Mr. Pliil desired me to say to you, 
 that if you will allow him a few minutes conversation 
 with you behind the garden, about dusk or a little 
 after it, he'll satisfy you that he can and will save 
 him — but it must be on the condition of seeing you, 
 as I say."
 
 292 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 '* Let him be generous," she replied, " and impose 
 no such condition." 
 
 '' He won't interfare on any other terms," repHed 
 Poll ; "he knows, it seems, that you have an 
 unfavourable opinion of him, and he wishes to prove 
 to you that he doesn't desarve it." 
 
 Mary paused for some time, and appeared very 
 much distressed. 1 fear, thought she, it is selfish in 
 me to think of my own feehngs, or to have a 
 moment's hesitation in sacrificing them to his safety. 
 It is, certainly, a disgusting task to meet this man ; 
 but what ought I not to do, consistent with conscious 
 rectitude of motive, to save my dear Harman's life, 
 for I fear the circumstances come to that. 
 
 '*Well, then. Poll, if I meet this man, mark me, it 
 is solely for the purpose of striving to save Mr. 
 Harman's life; and observe, because Mr. M'Clutchy 
 is ungenerous enough to make my meeting him the 
 condition of his interference." 
 
 '* That," said Poll, " is for yourself to consider ; 
 but surely you would be a strange girl, if you refused 
 to meet him for such a purpose. That would be a 
 quare way of showing your love to Mr. Harman." 
 
 " I shall meet him then," said Mary, " at the 
 style behind the garden ; and may God direct and 
 protect me in what I purpose !"
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 293 
 
 Poll gave no amen to this, as it might be supposed 
 she would have done, but simply said — 
 
 " I am glad, Miss M'Loughlin, that you're doin' 
 what you are doin'. It'll be a comfort may be to 
 yourself to reflect on it hereafther. Good night, 
 Miss !" 
 
 Mary bade her good night, and after closing the 
 shutters of her room which she had come to do, 
 retired ; and with an anxious heart returned to the 
 parlour. 
 
 M'Loughlin's family consisted of three sons and 
 but one daughter, Mary, with whom our readers are 
 already acquainted. The eldest, James, was a fine 
 young man of twenty three ; the second, Tom, was 
 younger than Mary, who then was entering her 
 twenty-first ; and the youngest, called Bryan, after 
 his father, was only eighteen. The honest fellow's 
 brow was clouded with a deep expression of melan- 
 choly, and he sat for some time silent after Mary's 
 return to the parlour. At length he said in a kind 
 of soliloquy — 
 
 I wish, Raymond-na-hattha, you had been behind 
 the SUevbeen Mountains that bitter morning you 
 came for James Harman !" 
 
 " If he had," said Tom, " poor James wouldn't be 
 where he is to night."
 
 294 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 " But I hope father," said Mary, m a voice which 
 though it trembled a httle, yet expressed a certain 
 portion of confidence — " I hope as it was an accident, 
 that there will not be any serious risk." 
 
 " I would be sorry to take any hope out of your 
 heart that's in it, Mary ; but, still, I can't forget 
 that Val the Vulture's liis bitterest enemy — and we 
 all know what he's capable of doing. His son, too, 
 graceful Phil, is still worse against him than the 
 father, especially ever since Harman pulled his nose 
 for what he said of Mary here. Did I ever men- 
 tion it to you ? 
 
 " No, Sir," replied Mary, colouring without 
 exactly knowing why, " you never did." 
 
 '*I was present," said young Bryan, "but it wasn't 
 so much for what he said, for he got afraid, but the 
 way he looked.'' 
 
 " The scoundrel," said James, indignantly, '* well 
 Bryan — " 
 
 '' 'Twas at the Ball Alley," proceeded the young 
 fellow, '' in Castle Cumber ; Mary was passing 
 homewards, and Phil was speaking to long Tom 
 Sharpe, father to one of the blood-hounds. * That's 
 a purty girl,' said Sharpe, ' who is she ? Oh,' says 
 Phil, ' an acquaintance of mine — but I can say no 
 more — honour bright,' and he winked one of liis
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 295 
 
 squinting eyes as he spoke. James Harman who 
 was standing behind him stepped forward, ' but I 
 can say more,' said he, ' she's daughter to Bryan 
 M'Loughhn, and no acquaintance of yours — and 
 what is more, never will be ; ay, and what is more,' 
 said James, ' here is a proof of it ;' and as he spoke 
 he pulled Phil's proboscis, and then wiped his fingers 
 in his purty face. Now you cowardly scoundrel,' 
 he added, ' let that teach you not to speak of any 
 respectable female in such a tone, or to claim an 
 acquaintance where you have it not.' " 
 
 " Never mind, my good fellow," said Phil, " I'll 
 make you smoke for this." 
 
 " You know where I am to be found," said James, 
 " and your remedy too ; but you haven't the spirit 
 to take it like a man — and so I leave you with the 
 white feather in your cap." 
 
 This anecdote for various reasons distressed Mary 
 beyond belief. It increased her detestation of young 
 Mr. Clutchy to the highest possible pitch, and ren- 
 dered the very thought of him doubly odious to her 
 heart. Her understanding became bewildered, and for 
 a while she knew not what she said or did. Taking 
 a candle and attempting to conceal her agitation, 
 she withdrew again to her own room, where she 
 sat for nearly half an hour endeavouring to shape
 
 296 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 her tumultuous thoughts into something of clearness 
 and order. 
 
 M'Loughlin's brow, however, after her departure, 
 still remained clouded. '' Misfortunes they say," 
 said he, " never come single ; here is our lease out, 
 and we will not get a renewal notwithstanding the 
 fine we oifered — and to mend the matter some good 
 friend has spread a report that the firmof M'Loughlin 
 and Harman is unsafe. Our creditors are coming 
 down upon us fast — but it's the way of the world, 
 every one striving to keep himself safe. If these 
 men were not set upon us by some coward in the 
 dark, there would be neither loss nor risk to them 
 nor to us ; but if they press on us out of the usual 
 course, I fear we wont be able to stand it. Then 
 poor Harman too ! heighonee !" 
 
 After some further conversation, in which it was 
 clear that M'Clutchy's and M'Slime's manoeuvres 
 had begun to develope themselves, Mary rejoined 
 them. Her countenance on her return was evidently 
 more composed, and impressed with a more decided, 
 perhaps, we should say, determined character. She 
 had made her mind up. M'Clutchy, junior, was no 
 doubt one of the most detestable of men, but as she 
 knew that she hated him, and felt a perfect consci- 
 ousness of all that was truthful, and pure, and cautious
 
 THE IRISH AGENT. 297 
 
 in herself, she came once more to the resolution of sac- 
 rificing her own disgust to the noble object of saving 
 her lover. Besides, it was by no means an unreason- 
 able hope on her part ; for such was the state of party 
 and pohtical feeUng at the time, that wiser and more 
 experienced heads would have calculated rightly, 
 and calculated as she did. 
 
 '* Father," said she, on returning to the parlour, 
 " don't be cast down too much about Harman — I 
 think, considering every thing, that his case is far 
 from being hopeless. There is Father Roche — as 
 for poor Mary O' Regan, in consequence of her 
 insanity, she unfortunately can be of no use — and 
 one of the bloodhounds are against the two others. 
 Now, two to two, is surely strong e\ddence in his 
 favour." 
 
 She did not, however, make the slightest allu- 
 sion to the grounds on which she actually did rest 
 her hope — that is to say, on Phil's influence over his 
 father. 
 
 M'Loughhn was glad to see that her spirits were 
 so much more improved than they had been ; and 
 so far from uttering any thing calculated to depress 
 them, he appeared to feel much more easy in his 
 mind than before — and, perhaps, actually did so. 
 
 '• Well," said he to his wife, who was a woman of
 
 298 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 few words but deep feeling ; '' Kathleen, will you 
 see that we get a glass of punch — the boys and I ; 
 
 there can be no harm surely in drinking a ; but 
 
 it's time enough to drink it when we see the liquor 
 before us. Mary, avourneen, as you are activer 
 than your mother, will you undertake that duty ? — 
 do, avillish machree." 
 
 In a few minutes Mary quietly but actively had 
 the decanter, sugar, and hot water before them ; 
 and Bryan, having mixed a tumbler for himself, and 
 shoved the materials over to his two eldest boys, 
 resumed the conversation. 
 
 *' Come, boys ; are you mixed ?" 
 
 " All ready. Sir." 
 
 " Well, here's that James Harman may triumph 
 over his enemies !" 
 
 This was drank, we need not say, with an 
 anxious and sincere heart. 
 
 " Do you know now," said M'Louglilin, " that I 
 think there's a very great difference between little 
 M'Slime, and that Vulture of hell, M'Clutchy. The 
 little fellow came riding past to-day, and seeing me 
 in the field, he beckoned to me : — 
 
 '' ' I hope,' says he, ' that certain reports, which 
 I was sorry to hear of, are unfounded ?' 
 
 '* ' What reports, Mr. M'Slime ?' says I to him.
 
 THE [RIsiH AGENT. 299 
 
 *' * WliY,' said he, ' it is not out of idle curiosity 
 that I nTake the inquiry, bui I trust from better 
 and more Christian motives ;' and, upon my con- 
 science, the httle fellow turned up his eyes towards 
 heaven, in a way that would shame Father Roche 
 himself. Faith, if there wasn't truth there, I don't 
 know where you could get it. ' The reports I speak 
 of,' says he, ' touch the solvency of your firm.' 
 
 " ' Able to pay fifty sliillmgs in the pound,' said 
 I, not willing to encourage the outcry. 
 
 " ' I'm delighted to hear it,' says generous little 
 Solomon ; * but all I have to sav is, that if it had 
 been otherwise, or should it actually be otherwise, 
 so far as a few hundred pounds go, you may draw 
 upon a man — a sinner — a frail mortal and an un- 
 worthy — named Solomon M'SHme. This,' he went 
 on, ' is not mere worldly friendship, Mr. M'Lough- 
 lin, that promises much until the necessity arrives, 
 and then do all such promises flee as it were into 
 the wilderness. ' No, my friend,' says the warm 
 hearted little saint, ' no, my friend, these offers are 
 founded not on my own strength, so to say, but upon 
 those blessed precepts, Mr. M'Loughlin, which teach 
 us to love our neighbours as ourselves — and to do 
 unto others even as we wish they should do unto us.' 
 He squeezed my hand, and whispered in my ear —
 
 300 VALENTINE M'CLUTCHY, 
 
 * As far as three hundred pounds go, should you 
 require it, rely on me ; but harkee,' says he, ' and 
 now,' — well, here's his health — ! — ' and now,' — oh ! 
 I knew he was in earnest — * and now,' says he, ' o'^o 
 word with you — I trust — I hope, I may say, that I 
 am a Christian man, who would not speak aught 
 against my neighbour ; but this, out of a principle 
 of Christian kindness, I will say ; — beware of Valen- 
 tine M'Clutchy. It is known, ^Aere/'said he, point- 
 ing his finger, and turning up his eyes to heaven — 
 ' it is known there from what motives 1 speak this. 
 I am glad I saw thee — peace be with thee — fare- 
 well, and do not despise or overlook my services, 
 or my poor sinful offers.' 
 
 "Now," said the simple minded but upright and 
 unsuspicious man, " I do say that was no every day 
 offer, I would be glad ta hear M'Clutchy make 
 such an offer to any man — for which reason here's 
 little Solomon's health once more, and long life to 
 him !" 
 
 END OF VOL. \. 
 
 Thomas I. White, Printer, 45, Flect-street.