h him, argued,
persuaded, all in vain. William Quirke has a wish to remain in this
sublunary sphere. His spirit is not anxious to take unto itself the
wings of a dove, that it may fly away and be at rest. Like the dying
Methodist, whose preacher reminded him of the beauties of Paradise, he
likes "about here pretty well." Mr. Heard, Divisional Commissioner in
charge of the constabulary organisation of the Counties of Cork,
Limerick, and Kerry can get nothing out of William Quirke.
County-inspector Moriarty can stir nothing, nor Major Rolleston,
Resident Magistrate, nor Inspectors Wright, Pattison, and Huddy, all
of whom have done their level best. These gentlemen assert that
obviously Quirke knows the moonlighters, and for my own part, I am
certain of it. The married son is equally dumb. "They were disguised,"
he says. "But you would recognise their voices." Then comes the
strangest assertion, "They never spoke a word." In other words, he
affirms that a number of men, not less than seven or eight, burst open
his door, dragged him from bed, maltreated and shot him, to the
accompaniment of his wife's terrified screaming and his own
protestations, without uttering a single syllable! The bold
Gladstonians whose influence removed Mr. Balfour from office and
delivered the country into ruffian hands, will say: And serve the
people right! If they will not bear witness let the victims suffer.
You cannot help people who will not help themselves. The police are
there, the magistrates are there, the prisons are there, the hangman,
if need be, is there. If they will not avail themselves of the
protection provided, let them suffer. Let them go at it. All their own
fault. Nobody but themselves to blame.

All very plausible and reasonable--in theory. Let us look a little
closer into this matter. What does William Quirke say:--"Nobody can
help an Irish farmer in a lonely part of Ireland. There are too many
ways of getting at him. Suppose I gave such evidence as would satisfy
anybody--I do not say I could--I don't know anything; but suppose I
knew and told, would a Limerick jury convict? Certainly not. Everybody
knows that. The police, the magistrates, will tell you that, every one
of them. Nobody will say anything else. Then, why rouse more enmity? I
shall give up the land even if I lose the money, the savings of a
life-time, added to a loan, which I can repay in time. That is
settled. What good would the land do me, once I were dead? I