ained fact. That they usually declare
they have no clue to the offenders is equally well known. The
difficulty of arresting suspected men is enhanced by the fact that the
moonlighters have a complete system of scouts who in this bare and
thinly populated district, descry the police when miles away, giving
timely warning to the marauders; these, besides, are readily concealed
by their neighbours and friends, who in this display an ingenuity and
enthusiasm worthy a better cause. Suppose the villains are caught
red-handed; even then the difficulties are by no means over. In
Ireland a felon once in the hands of the police, by that one
circumstance at once and for ever becomes a hero, a martyr, a man to
be excused, to be prayed for, to be worshipped. No matter how black
his offence, the touch of the constabulary washes him whiter than
snow, purifies him from every earthly taint, surrounds him with a halo
of sanctity. Those whom he has injured will not bear witness against
him, because their temerity might cost them their lives, the loss of
their property, the esteem of their fellow-men. What this means we
shall shortly see. The cases I have examined will speak for
themselves. And let it be remembered that close proximity to the
scenes described produces an incomparably stronger effect than any
description, however minute, however painstaking. The utter
lawlessness of the districts I have visited since penning Monday's
letter has produced a profound, an indelible impression. I pass over
the means employed to get over the ground, merely stating that
horseflesh has borne the brunt of the business. That and pedestrianism
are the only means available, with untold patience and perseverance to
worm out the true story. People will not show the way, or will direct
you wrongly. Their ignorance, that is, their assumed ignorance, is
wonderful, incredible. They are all sthrangers in those parts. They
never knew a family of that name, never heard of any moonlighting,
swear that the amusement is unknown thereabouts, assert that the
whole thing is a fabrication of the police. All the people round are
decent, honest, hard-working folks, without a fault; pious, virtuous,
immaculate. You push on, and your friend runs after you. Stay a
moment, something has struck him. Just at the last distressing hour,
his brain displayed amazing power. Now he comes to think of it,
something was said to have happened over there, at Ballygammon, ten
miles in th