t not as an
exchange, but as a tribute, to pay the rent of absentee landlords--a
levy wrung from producers by those who in no wise contributed to the
production.

Captain O'Shea was not at all interested. He had the brain of a
blackbird, but not enough mind to oppose his wife. He just accepted
life, and occasionally growled because more money did not come from
this agent in Galway--that was all.

He still nominally belonged to the army, was a member of "The Canteen,"
a military club, played billiards in Winter and cricket in Summer, and
if at long intervals he got plain drunk, it was a matter of patriotism
done by way of celebrating a victory of English arms in the Congo, and
therefore in the line of duty. Captain O'Shea never beat his wife, even
in his cups, and the marriage was regarded as a happy one by the
neighboring curate who occasionally looked in, and at times enjoyed a
quiet mug with the Captain.

Mrs. O'Shea knew several of the Irish Members of Parliament; in fact,
one of them was a cousin of her husband.

This cousin knew John Dillon and William O'Brien. Dillon and O'Brien
knew Parnell, and belonged to his "advisory board."

Mrs. O'Shea was a member of Ruskin's Saint George Society, and had
outlined a plan to sell the handicraft products made in the Irish homes,
it being the desire of Ruskin to turn Irish peasantry gradually from a
dependence on agriculture to the handicrafts. Mrs. O'Shea had a parlor
sale in her own house, of laces, rugs and baskets made by the Irish
cottagers.

John Dillon told Parnell of this. Parnell knew that such things were
only palliative, but he sympathized with the effort, and when in June,
Eighteen Hundred Eighty, he accepted an invitation to dine at the
O'Shea's with half a dozen other notables, it was quite as a matter of
course. How could he anticipate that he was making history!

Disappointment in marriage had made lines under the eyes of pretty Kitty
O'Shea and strengthened her intellect.

Indifference and stupidity are great educators--they fill one with
discontent and drive a person onward and upward to the ideal. A
whetstone is dull, but it serves to sharpen Damascus blades.

Mrs. O'Shea's heart was in the Irish cause. Parnell listened at first
indulgently--then he grew interested. The woman knew what she was
talking about. She was the only woman he had ever seen who did, save his
mother, whose house had once been searched by the constabulary for
th