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There are few who have not something to be proud of. My woman of Clones is proud of the fact that she entertained and lodged for a night the potato pilgrims thirty-five of them who went to Captain Boycott's relief down to Lough Mask. After she had mentioned this circumstance a few times, and did seem to take much spiritual comfort from the face, I ventured to inquire if she were paid for it.
Boycott's potatoes, turnips, and mangolds are got in, and his oats are threshed out, when his sheep are either sold or devoured on the spot by his hungry defenders, he will accompany the Orangemen on their return march, at least to the nearest railway station.
It will be recollected that about a month ago a process-server and his escort retreated on Lough Mask House, followed by a mob, and that on the following day all the farm servants were ordered to leave Mr. Boycott's employment. I may mention that Mr. Boycott is a Norfolk man, the son of a clergyman, and was formerly an officer in the 39th Regiment.
Presently came the angle which marks the extremity of Captain Boycott's land. Taking the road to the right, we approached the house under ban, and around which a crowd of peasants had been expected. The only human beings in sight were the police guarding the entrance by the lodge, and those stationed near the hut on a slight eminence to the right.
Sir, In accordance with the decision made in Lord Erne's last letter to us, we want you to appoint a day to receive the rents. THE TENANTS. A reply requested." Mr. Boycott's reply was that he was ready to receive the rents at ten o'clock this morning, an hour after which time he received the following notice: "The tenants request an answer to the following before they pay you the rent: 1st.
"If they took ye for an Emergency man, it's small wonder they were none too swate on ye," observed Mr. Connolly. "But what does it mean?" asked the New-Yorker. "Well," began the old gentleman, "there's good and bad in this world of ours. When tenants kick and labourers clare out, an' a boycott's put on a man, they'd lave yer cattle to die an' yer crops to rot for all they care.
In their own opinion the most law-abiding of Her Majesty's subjects, the Ballinrobe folk indulged but very slightly in groaning or hissing, and when the little army got clear of the town its sole followers were a couple of cars, a market cart, and a private gig driven by a lady, the tag-rag and bobtail being made up of a dozen bare-legged girls, whose scoffs and jeers never went beyond the inquiry, "Wad ye dig auld Boycott's pitaties, thin?"
During all this we were sitting on the car viewing the field where the bivouac had been. A policeman with a questioning look on a pleasant face came along from the great house with a tin pail in his hand. "What have you got in the can!" asks this inquisitive car driver. "Milk," responded the policeman. "You would have got no milk at the big house in Captain Boycott's time."
The remainder of the Orangemen, when I saw them, were busy in the barn with a so-called "Tiny" threshing-machine, threshing Mr. Boycott's oats with all the seriousness and solemn purpose befitting their task. Nothing could have been more dreary and wretched than the entire proceedings. Mr.
The isolated dwelling itself was by far the most gloomy object in the landscape grey and prison-like as most of the Irish houses of its class. Mr. Boycott's habitation has thoroughly the look of a place in which crimes have been, or, as a native of these parts suggested, "ought to be committed."
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