sh it, and the like.'

As they drove by, some men and women put their heads through the smoke
out of the cabins; pale women with long, black, or yellow locks--men
with countenances and figures bereft of hope and energy.

'Wretched, wretched people!' said Lord Colambre.

'Then it's not their fault neither,' said Larry; 'for my own uncle's
one of them, and as thriving and hard a working man as could be in all
Ireland, he was, AFORE he was tramped under foot, and his heart broke. I
was at his funeral, this time last year; and for it, may the agent's own
heart, if he has any, burn--'

Lord Colambre interrupted this denunciation by touching Larry's
shoulder, and asking some question, which, as Larry did not distinctly
comprehend, he pulled up the reins, and the various noises of the
vehicle stopped suddenly.

I did not hear well, plase your honour.'

'What are those people?' pointing to a man and woman, curious figures,
who had come out of a cabin, the door of which the woman, who came out
last, locked, and carefully hiding the key in the thatch, turned her
back upon the man, and they walked away in different directions: the
woman bending under a huge bundle on her back, covered by a yellow
petticoat turned over her shoulders; from the top of this bundle the
head of an infant appeared; a little boy, almost naked, followed her
with a kettle, and two girls, one of whom could but just walk, held her
hand and clung to her ragged petticoat; forming, altogether, a complete
group of beggars. The woman stopped, and looked back after the man.

The man was a Spanish-looking figure, with gray hair; a wallet hung at
the end of a stick over one shoulder, a reaping-hook in the other hand;
he walked off stoutly, without ever casting a look behind him.

'A kind harvest to you, John Dolan,' cried the postillion, 'and success
to ye, Winny, with the quality. There's a luck-penny for the child to
begin with,' added he, throwing the child a penny. 'Your honour, they're
only poor CRATURES going up the country to beg, while the man goes over
to reap the harvest in England. Nor this would not be, neither, if
the lord was in it to give 'em EMPLOY. That man, now, was a good and
a willing SLAVE in his day: I mind him working with myself in the
shrubberies at Clonbrony Castle, when I was a boy--but I'll not be
detaining your honour, now the road's better.'

The postillion drove on at a good rate for some time, till he came to
a piece of the r