task to which they were accustomed—­entered the house with an Execution to seize for rent.  This, at all times and under all circumstances, is a scene in which a peculiar license is given to brutality and ruffianism; but in the present case there were additional motives; with which the reader is already acquainted, for insulting this family.  Not that the mere-levying of an Execution was a matter of novelty to either Mary or her mother, for of late there had unfortunately been several in the house and on their property before.  These, however, were conducted with a degree of civility that intimated respect for, if not sympathy with, the feelings of a family so inoffensive, so beneficial to the neighborhood by the employment they afforded, and, in short, every way so worthy of respect.

“What is all this about?” asked Harman.

“Why,” said one of the fellows, “we’re seizin’ for rent:  that’s what it’s about.”

“Rent,” observed the other, surprised, “why, it is only a few minutes since Mr. M’Loughlin told me that M’Clutchy assured him—­”

“Captain M’Clutchy, sir, if you plaise.”

“Very well—­Captain M’Clutchy, or Colonel M’Olutchy, if you wish, assured him that—­”

“I have nothing to do with what he assured him,” replied the fellow; “my duty is to take an inventory of the furniture; beg pardon, ladies, but we must do our duty you know.”

“Let them have their way,” said Mrs. M’Loughlin, “let them have their way; I know what they are capable of.  Mary, my dear, be firm—­as I said before—­our only trust is in God, my child.”

“I am firm, my dear mother; for, as James said, the grief of griefs has been removed from me.  I can now support myself under anything—­but you—­indeed, James, she is battling against illness these three or four days—­and will not go to bed; it is for you I now feel, mother.”

Mr. M’Loughlin and his family here entered; and truth to tell, boundless was the indignation of the honest fellow, at this most oppressive and perfidious proceeding on the part of the treacherous agent.

“Ah,” said he, “I knew it—­and I said it—­but let the scoundrel do his worst; I scorn him, and I defy him in the very height of his ill-gotten authority.  My children,” said he, “keep yourselves cool.  Let not this cowardly act of oppression and revenge disturb or provoke you.  This country, as it is at present governed—­and this property as it is at present managed—­is no place for us to live in.  Let the scoundrel then do his worst.  As for us, we will follow the example of other respectable families, who, like ourselves, have been forced to seek a home in a distant country.  We will emigrate to America, as soon as I can conveniently make arrangements for that purpose; for God knows I am sick of my native land, and the petty oppressors which in so many ways harass and goad the people almost to madness.”