Mr. Stacpoole told us some of his own experiences nearer home.  Not long ago he was informed that the National League had ordered some decent people, who hold the demesne lands of his neighbour, Mr. Macdonald (already alluded to) at a very low rental, to make a demand for a reduction, which would have left Mr. Macdonald without a penny of income.  To counter this Mr. Stacpoole offered to take the lands over for pasture at the existing rental, whereupon the tenants promptly made up their minds to keep their holdings in defiance of the League.

Last year a man, whom Mr. Stacpoole had regarded as a “good” tenant, came to him, bringing the money to pay his rent.  “I have the rint, sorr,” the man said, “but it is God’s truth I dare not pay it to ye!” Other tenants were waiting outside.  “Are you such a coward that you don’t dare be honest?” said Mr. Stacpoole.  The man turned rather red, went and looked out of all the windows, one after another, lifted up the heavy cloth of the large table in the room, and peeped under it nervously, and finally walked up to Mr. Stacpoole and paid the money.  The receipt being handed to him, he put it back with his hand, eyed it askance as if it were a bomb, and finally took it, and carefully put it into the lining of his hat, after which, opening the door with a great noise, he exclaimed as he went out, “I’m very, very sorry, master, that I can’t meet you about it!” This man is now as loud in protestation of his “inability” to pay his rent as any of the “Campaigners.”  Mr. Stacpoole thinks one great danger of the actual situation is that men who were originally “coerced” by intimidation into dishonestly refusing to pay just rents, which they were abundantly able to pay, are beginning now to think that they will be, and ought to be, relieved by the law of the land from any obligation to pay these rents.

It seems to be his impression that things look better, however, of late for law and order.  On Monday of last week at Ennis an example was made of a local official, which, he thinks, will do good.  This was a Poor-Law Guardian named Grogan.  He was bound over on Monday last to keep the peace for twelve months towards one George Pilkington.  Pilkington, it appears, in contempt of the League, took and occupied, in 1886, a certain farm in Tarmon West.  For this he was “boycotted” from that time forth.  In December last he was summoned, with others, before the Board of Guardians at Kilrush, to fix the rents of certain labourers’ cottages.  While he sat in the room awaiting the action of the Board, Grogan, one of its members, rose up, and, looking at Pilkington, said in a loud voice, “There’s an obnoxious person here present that should not be here, a land-grabber named Pilkington.”  There was a stir in the room, and Pilkington, standing up, said, “I am here because I have had notice from the Guardians.  If I am asked to leave the place, I shall not come back.”  The Chairman of the Board upon this declared that “while the