lost, in order to secure the
crops of the agent. If he had spirit to refuse, he must expect to become
a martyr to his resentment. In renewing leases his extortions were
exorbitant; ten, thirty, forty, and fifty guineas he claimed as a fee
for his favor, according to the ability of the party; yet this was quite
distinct from the renewal tine, and went into his own pocket. When such
"glove money" was not to be had, he would accept of a cow or horse, to
which he usually made a point to take a fancy; or he wanted to purchase
a firkin of butter at that particular time; and the poor people usually
made every sacrifice to avoid his vengeance. It is due to Colonel
B------ to say, that he acted in the investigation of his agent's
conduct with the strictest honor and impartiality. He scrutinized every
statement thoroughly, pleaded for him as temperately as he could; found,
or pretended to find, extenuating motives for his most indefensible
proceedings; but all would not do. The cases were so clear and evident
against him, even in the opinion of the neighboring gentry, who had been
for years looking upon the system of selfish misrule which he practised,
that at length the generous Colonel's blood boiled with indignation
in his veins at the contemplation of his villany. He accused himself
bitterly for neglecting his duties as a landlord, and felt both
remorse and shame for having wasted his time, health, and money, in
the fashionable dissipation of London and Paris; whilst a cunning,
unprincipled upstart played the vampire with his tenants, and turned his
estate into a scene of oppression and poverty. Nor was this all; he
had been endeavoring to bring the property more and more into his own
clutches, a point which he would ultimately have gained, had not the
Colonel's late succession to so large a fortune enabled him to meet his
claims.

At one o'clock the tenants were all assembled about the inn door, where
the Colonel had resolved to hold his little court. The agent himself
soon arrived, as did several other gentlemen, the Colonel's friends, who
knew the people and could speak to their character.

The first man called was Dominick M'Evoy. No sooner was his name
uttered, than a mild, poor-looking man, rather advanced in years, came
forward.

"I beg your pardon, Colonel," said Carson, "here is some mistake; this
man is not one of your tenants. You may remember I told you so this
morning."

"I remember it," replied the Colonel;