Purcel, on coming in sight of the parsonage, instead of keeping his horse to the rapid pace at which he had driven him along until then, now drew him up, and advanced at a rate which seemed to indicate anything but that of a man whose spirits were cheerful or free from care.  On reaching the front entrance he discounted very slowly, and with a solemn and melancholy air, walked deliberately, step by step, till he stood at the hall door, where he gave a knock so spiritless, depressed and disconsolate, that it immediately communicated itself, as was intended, to the usually joyful and rosy countenance of the rector, who surveyed, his agent as if he expected to hear that he either had lost, or was about to lose, half his family or the whole of his wealth.

“How do you do, Purcel?—­eh, what’s this?  Is there anything wrong?  You look very much dejected—­what’s the matter?  Sit down.”

“Thank you, sir; but I really do not think I am well—­at least my spirits are a great deal depressed; but indeed, Dr. Turbot, a man must be more or less than a man to be able to keep up his spirits in such times.”

“Oh! ho, my worthy proctor, is that all?  Thank you for nothing, Purcel.  I understand you; but you ought to know I am not to be caught now by your ’calamities’.”

“My calamities!  I declare to goodness, Dr. Turbot, I could rest contented if they were nobody’s calamities but my own; unfortunately, however, you are as deep in them as I am, and in a short time, God knows, we will be a miserable pair, I fear.”

“Not at all, Purcel—­this is only the old story.  Raw-heads and bloody-bones coming to destroy the tithes, and eat up the parsons.  Let me see—­it is now three years since you commenced these ‘lamentations.’”

“Three years ago; why we had peace and quietness then compared to what we have at present,” replied Purcel.

“And what have we now, pray?”

“Why, sir, the combinations against tithes is quite general over the whole country.”

“Well; so was it then upon your own showing.  Go on.”

“As I said, sir, it was nothing at that time.  There is little now but threatening notices that breathe of blood and murder.”

“Very good; so was it then upon your own showing.  Go on.”

“But of late, sir, lives have been taken.  Clergymen have been threatened and fired at.”

“Very good; so was it then upon you! own showing.  Go on, I say.”

“Fired at I say, and shot, sir.  The whole White boy system has turned itself into a great tithe conspiracy.  The farmers, the landholders of all descriptions, the cottiers, the daily laborers, and the very domestic servants, have all joined this conspiracy, and sworn neither to pay tithes themselves nor to allow others to pay them.  They compare the established church to a garrison; and although the law prevents them from openly destroying it by force, they swear that they’ll starve it out.”