of the law; and my own notion is, that the law is nothing but lies and
fiction from beginning to end."

'A very loud cheer from Bob's audience proclaimed how perfectly they
coincided in his opinion; and a keg of whisky being brought into the
lawn, each man drained a glass to his health, uttering at the same time
a determination with respect to the law-officers of the crown that boded
but little happiness to them when they made a tour in the neighbourhood.

'In about a week after this there was a grand drawing-home: that's, you
understand, what we call in Ireland bringing in the harvest. And sure
enough, the farmyard presented a very comely sight, with ricks of hay,
and stacks of corn and oats and barley, and outhouses full of potatoes,
and in fact everything the country produces, besides cows and horses,
sheep, pigs, goats, and even turkeys; for most of the tenants paid their
rents in kind, and as Bob was an easy landlord, very few came without a
little present--a game-cock, a jackass, a ram, or some amusing beast or
other. Well, the next day--it was a fine dry day with a light frost, and
as the bog was hard, Bob sent them all away to bring in the turf. Why,
then, but it is a beautiful sight, Captain, and I wish you saw it--maybe
two or three hundred cars all going as fast as they can pelt, on a fine
bright day, with a blue sky and a sharp air, the boys standing up in the
kishes driving without rein or halter, always at a gallop--for all the
world like Ajax, Ulysses, and the rest of them that we read of; and the
girls, as pretty craytures as ever you threw an eye upon, with their
short red petticoats, and their hair plaited and fastened up at the back
of their heads: on my conscience the Trojan women was nothing to them!

'But to come back. Bob Mahon was coming home from the bog about five
o'clock in the evening, cantering along on a little dun pony he had,
thinking of nothing at all, except maybe the elegant rick of turf that
he 'd be bringing home in the morning, when what did he see before him
but a troop of dragoons, and at their head old Basset, the sub-sheriff,
and another fellow whose face he had often seen in the Four Courts of
Dublin. "By the mortial," said Bob, "I am done for!" for he saw in a
moment that Basset had waited until all the country-people were employed
at a distance, to come over and take him. However, he was no ways
discouraged, but brushing his way through the dragoons, he rode up
beside Bass