better, because the less tithe that went into the absent minister’s pocket the more would they all be pleased.  To be sure the tithe-proctor always exacted to the last farthing, and more than the minister—­and it is believed that Mr. Boland was not behind any of the trade—­and some people say, indeed, that, from his knowledge of farming and the ins and outs of people’s little tillage, he sometimes exacted to within a trifle of one-fifth of the produce.  Indeed, in my own case—­and I am but a poor brogue-maker, with half-a-dozen acres of the |poorest lands of F------, he took from me, between citations to the Bishop’s Court and other costs, with the original tithes, at least one-fourth of the entire produce of my little farm; nor do I know any one in the parish that fares better than myself, especially the poor people who don’t understand the law, and who are not able, or willing, to get into it.  However, I confess, I never regretted my own share of the loss, where I knew and thought that it all went to the glory and grandeur of the Masters and Misses Boland.  Nor shall I ever forget the cutting-up which young Mick Boland gave me, with the butt-end of his loaded whip, the day I went to their house to complain that their driver had put all my sheep into the pound, for a debt of sixteen shillings, tithe-money.  And now, my Lord Justice, as I have said so much of the truth in favor of Mr. Boland and his family, I hope your lordship will pass a merciful and just sentence oh them, and that this just jury won’t find these friends to us, to our religion, and to our country, guilty.”

There was a suppressed murmur of approbation, accompanied by an audible stamping of feet, at the conclusion of this merciful harangue.  But silence being called, the jurors put their heads together across the table, and in less than two minutes their foreman handed up the issue-paper to the secretary, who sat by the side of the judge on receipt of which that functionary arose and in a solemn, scarcely audible voice, read from the paper a verdict of “guilty” against Michael Boland and his two sons.  The judge then immediately arose from his chair, and in a low, solemn, but firm and distinct tone of voice, pronounced the verdict of the court to be, “Death and Dark Destruction to Michael Boland and his two sons,” and that the sentence should be executed that very night.  On the announcement of the verdict a low shriek of exultation arose from the audience, followed by a simultaneous half-suppressed cry of, “Long life to our Judge!  Long life to Buck English!”

The judge stood up again and said:  “Now, boys, I know that there is no man here present but a man who has been often well tried in exploits of danger and of death:  every man of you is the leader of a party of brave fellows, who, with yourselves, have sworn to sustain the oppressed; crush the tyrant, and right the wronged.  Your men are brave, bold, and hearty; keep them to:  their duty, and in perfect submission to your orders.  Let the old tyrant and his young cubs be cut off, at all hazards, but spare the women—­nay, make every possible exertion to save them, but, more especially, and by all means, let the eldest daughter, Miss Anna, be saved, secured, and brought to me, as you all know how long I have vainly endeavored to make her mine.  And now, boys, every man to his post, and I, your commander, shall lead you on.”