Mr. Biggar did not appear to relish the line he was on, and shunted to another topic; but he could not shake my view that the rents of 1880 were, on the average, twenty-five per cent. lower than in 1840.

‘You bought the Harenc estate over the heads of the tenants?’

‘No, I did not.’

’You spoke about an address which you received from the tenants when you were a candidate for Tralee?’

‘Yes.’

Then, with the snarl of a wild beast, Mr. Biggar blurted out:—­

’Have you any idea whether this was got up by the bailiffs on your property?’

’I am quite certain it was not, because I had no bailiffs on the property.  I gave an immense deal of employment, and I believe that had something to do with it.’

Mr. Biggar presently sat down, having made less of me than he and his friends hoped.

On re-examination, the Attorney-General observed:—­

’You say one of the bonfires, lighted when you succeeded, was put out.  I suppose the Irish people are not very averse to a row at times?’

‘Oh no.’

‘And bonfires do produce rows at times?’

‘Certainly.’

‘Your popularity did not depend on one bonfire?’

‘No.’

Nor did my life, fortunately, depend on the good will of Messrs. Parnell, Biggar, and their associates.

With reference to my freedom in telling the truth, an application was made against me, in July 1891, for an attachment of the Land Court.  It ended abortively, and permitted me to continue with perfect impunity to give in letters to the Times evidence I was debarred from giving in Court.

I certainly did not miss a chance of pointing out the proper path to the Commissioners, and I have taken an even affectionate interest in every department of the Land Commission.  Sarcastically, a Home Rule paper politely christened me as the fatherly patron of the Court, and informed me that my own conscience had given up communication with me, in consequence of the many snubs it had received.

The intimate knowledge of my most private affairs that this purports to represent proves the empty-headedness of the writer, and when he added that the strong indictment rebounded off my hide because I had heard myself a hundred times denounced in language equally eloquent, I can only agree that he was a mere lisping babe in comparison with some adjectival denunciators who, to their regret, find I am still alive and equal to them all.

CHAPTER XXIII

LATER DAYS

With advancing years comes a change in the point of view, for anticipation contracts even more than retrospect expands.  Associates of early days have passed away, and where I was once one of a battalion, to-day I am only a survivor of the old guard.  This is not a cause for sadness, but an incentive to take the best of what remains of life, though at times chills and other ills, including doctors, drugs, and income-tax, do their best to depress the survivor.  It has been said to be a characteristic of Irish humour that tears are very near the laughter, and sometimes the unshed tears over lost opportunities must be the chief bitterness of age—­one which I have been mercifully spared.