LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume III, Issue 269, 22 April 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

KILLING NO MURDER.

A STORY OF IRELAND IN 1840.

By E. G. Curtis.

{Continued. )

‘ Come home, John, agra,’ she whispered presently, when the reader had paused for a moment to take breath; and somehow to her surprise, O’Shee turned with her at once, and they went along the road together. ‘ j t’s meself doesn’t see much good in listenin’ to them papers,’ she began presently. ‘ It’s a heavy heart they give me, for somehow they only seem to make the boys discontented, and ’ ‘Then I wouldn’t listen, if I was you, Mary; let the boys mind themselves, women have no head for such things; an’ not much spirit, if it goes to that, to put their husbands up to do what’s best for every one ; —discontented, indeed ! shure it’s enough we have to make us that same.’ ‘ I never thought you’d cast it up to me that I wanted spirit,’ said poor Mary, her pale lips quivering ; ‘ didn’t I come over you about the drink, an’ aren’t we cornin’ on better now, glory be to God ? but sure as ever the Sunday comes round an’ the papers is read, me heart sinks down, an’ a tremblin’ comes over me; I have it now,’ added the poor woman, stopping, and pressing her hands over her heart, which was beating painfully. She i grew calmer presently, and they walked* on again, John moody as before. ‘ The times are hard sure enough,’ his wife continued, unable now she had begun to stop the How of her lamentations, * but the people are harder than the times ; still God is good, an’ I’ll never b’lieve that it’s on the papers we’ll find out what He’d have us to do.’

‘ JSTo ; but the papers puts the courage into us to rise up against the tyrants that would crush us,’ said John, his stride along the road becoming more vigorous as his anger rose. ‘We’ve been slaves too long, payin’ rent for the land that was our own once, an’ the money spent in feastin’ away over in England ! It’s more nor ten years since Mr Lendrick set foot in the place, an’ maybe you’ll tell me that is just an’ right ?’ ‘ Ay, is it ten years ’ replied Mary ; ‘ they went jist afore you an’ me was married, John; Miss Letty must be a fine young woman now, the heavens be her bed, here or there; is it true, I wonder, that they’re cornin’ home for a start ?’

‘ True enough, I b’lieve, but what good’ll it do us ! Aren’t they goin’ to make a new road right through our little place, an’ be d—d to them !’

‘ Through the place, J ohn ? Is it to take the roof from over us yer meanin’ ?’ ‘ Ay is it, Molly, turn us out neck an’ crop, an’ we may go to the poorhouse, or die in a ditch for what they care ; a short cut is more to them nor a poor man’s home, but maybe we’d get a shorter cut to heaven when our time conies after all. ’

‘ God knows, ’ responded Mary, fervently, while her husband continued, ‘ there’s nothing for us, that I can see, but to leave the country to the tyrants that robbed us, an’ has their foot upon our neck still.’ ‘Ah, John, but we know where we are, an’ we don’t know where we’d be going ; for one that does well in America there’s fifty starves, an’ I’m thinking if trouble came, it might be easier to bear it among our own people.’ ‘ I don't know that,’ replied O'Shee, wearily ; ‘ but if I stay in the country, I must join them that’s ready to do something for our rights, an’ maybe it would be better to leave it all behind us.’

As the young man spoke, he and his wife came in sight of their cottage; the afternoon was bright and clear, and the sun was shining full upon it; Mary had lived in the little home, and had loved it for years, but it had never struck her that it was a pretty place to look at before.

‘To leave it?’ she exclaimed, stopping short, ‘to leave the house, J ohn?’ ‘An’ why not?’ he said, with a bitter laugh; ‘ shure it’s only four mud walls after all.’

, ‘Only four mud walls!’ she repeated, ‘that’s true enough, but didn’t you bring me into them a bride, an’ haven’t 1 lived in them yer wife an’ the childre’s mother: Only four mud walls, but haven’t they sheltered us from rain an’ storm, an’ when eveiything was black outside hadn’t wc the light of happiness within? It's only a cabin I know, but it’s our own; we’ve never known what real trouble was in it yet, an’ shure if it comes we’ll bear it together. Stay by it, agra, if it isn’t a broken-hearted woman ye’d have for yer wife. ’ ‘ But don’t I tell ye, woman, that we’re to be turned out; we’re a trifle behindhand with the rent, and that will be excuse enough; howsomedever, I’ll stay on an’ wait for what comes, but I won’t be pointed at as a poor, mane crature; I’ll do as others do, an’ if the boys only join for their own good, shure there’ll no harm come of that.’

Poor Mary could only say again, ‘ God knows!’ as she and her husband entered the cottage together; it was something to have got his promise not to leave the home she loved without force, but there was a vague sense of impending trouble and danger over her, which she could not shake oil. As the door of the cabin closed behind her, she burst out crying, and throwing her apron

over her head, she rocked herself to and fro iu a wild passion of grief. ‘ May me hand drop off of me, but there’s others shall cry tear for tear,’ John muttered, as he looked at her.

Before another week had passed, the Lendricks were once more at home. An effort had been made to give them a suitable welcome; it had been proposed by the rector and seconded by the parish priest, but it failed utterly; someunseen opposition was at work, for nothing could arouse the smallest amount of enthusiasm among the people, so accordingly the carriage containing Mr and Mrs Lendriek and Letty, followed by a waggonette tilled with supercilious English servants, prepared to be as uncomfortable and discontented as possible, drove from the station to Mount Lendriek without exciting more than ordinary interest; the women whom they passed eourtesied, and some of the men touched their hats, but that was all: and Letty, who had expected a triumphal arch at the entrance to the village, and a cheering crowd ready to take out the horses and draw the carriage up to the house, was terribly disappointed.

‘ It is not like coming home, ’ said she,

‘Ah, my dear, we have left home behind,’ sighed her mother, and she shivered as the carriage turned in at the lodge gates. Lendriek made his first appearance in public at the Petty Sessions, two days after his return; there was no lack of warmth in the greetings which he received from his fellow magistrates, but there was that iu their manner which made him feel as if they were willing, for the sake of old acquaintance, to overlook something in his conduct of which they were bound to disapprove. The fact was, his excellent colleagues on the bench did strongly disapprove of absenteeism, while they heartily envied those who were bold enough to indulge iu the objectionable practice.

The rector, who had grown grey and wrinkled, and, mentally, somewhat rusty, during the past ten \ ears, shook him warmly by the hand, sajdng, ‘ Glad to see you amongst us again, Mr Lendrick. ’ The parish priest, whom he met in the village said, pointedly, ‘ That he hoped Mr Lendrick’s family would find it possible to live in that dull place after the pleasures of London ;’ and during the Sessions he had to listen patiently while Acts of Parliament and the like, which he knew perfectly, were elaborately explained to him by the old ‘justice:?,’ who had grown verbose from long habit, and who considered minutiae one of the pillars of the State. Lendrick, who had of late been accustomed to talk to men whose thoughts and speech moved fast, soon grew bored and weary, and wished himself back again in London at his club. With Mrs Lendrick and Letty things were no better; the latter rushed off to visit sundry poor people whom she remembered, and found that she was herself forgotten : her stylish London costume, although made of material suitable for country wear, excited far more interest than her evident desire to show her father’s tenants that she was glad to be among them again, and the sensation that she w r as being stared at soon made her feel as uncomfortable in the village as her father was upon the bench. With the lady visitors, who soon Hocked to call at Mount Lendrick, it was also up-hill work to get on smoothly. Mrs Lendrick, of course, found plenty to say to her old friends and contemporaries in the county, but with the younger women poor Letty was utterly at sea ; and the shy country girls were evidently not at their ease with the young lady, who had so unmistakably lived in and seen more of the world than they; quite unconsciously, for she was well-bred and thoroughly goodnatured, Letty made her visitors feel uncomfortable, and the result naturally was that they did not like her. So, on the whole, the home-coming was a disappointment even greater than Mrs Lendrick had anticipated, and Letty was obliged to confess that the usual trip abroad would have been more agreeable. However, after ten days or a fortnight, matters had somewhat improved; the mother and daughter grew accustomed to the loneliness of the place, and Mr Lendrick to the garrulity and ouc-sidedncss of the resident gentry ; he found besides plenty of work cut out for him and his agent. The latter, a really conscientious and hard-work-ing man, had a grand scheme in his head for the improvement of the property; he believed that the greater part of the estate ought to be in Lendrick’s own hands, and by him devoted to the pasturage of cattle. Ireland did a large trade in fat stock for the English market, and the agent thought that his employer would do well to provide for supplying some of the demand. Lendrick liked the idea of adding to his income—his son was of age, and required a handsome allowance —but ho did not like the idea of evicting his tenants wholesale. However, by-and-by the thought grew less obnoxious ; the numerous small holdings held by yearly tenants, at small rents, were almost all disgracefully neglected; so he made up his mind that the slovenly tenants should go, and that those who were deserving should be granted leases at a moderate increase of rent, and it was hoped that the sense of greater security in their tenure would reconcile them to the heavier demand upon their profits; finally the new road, which was to cut down the cottage of the O’Shee’s, was decided upon as the first of the innovations which was to take place. Lendrick was very sorry for the O’Shees, and he determined that they should also be the first to feel the advantage of the new system, by being put into possession on lease of a nice farm and a good house on a distant part of the estate, out of which he was about to evict a ne’er-do-weel tenant. He also undertook to speak to the O’Shees himself about the impending and inevitable change.

Rumours of the approaching revolution in the management of the estate were soon rife amongst the Mount Lendrick tenantry, and the surprise, not to say censteruation, was universal. The Irish people dislike change even when it is for their own good, and it may be easily supposed that what was about to take place gradually on the property was eagerly discussed by the people and magnified a hundred fold. Dark and lowering faces were to be seen on every side, secret meetings were more frequent than ever, and it was but too plain that mischief was brewing. ( To he continued.')