evidently an Irish
Yankee, who might as well be looked after."

The Irish policeman, or "consthable," as he is familiarly known on his
native sod, is the son of a peasant. Finding life as a laborer or tenant
in either case intolerable, he debated in his own mind the question
whether he should emigrate to America, enlist in the British army, or
apply for a place on the constabulary. The first step was, to him, the
most acceptable, but he lacked the money to go; of the two courses left
open, enlistment in the army was the more pleasant, since in Ireland the
constabulary are almost entirely cut off from association with the people
in a social or friendly way, a general belief prevailing that the Irishman
who enters the police has deserted the cause of his country and entered
the service of her deadliest foe. So the police are avoided by their
former companions, shunned by old friends, and, lastly, what is of some
consequence to a genuine Irishman, are given the cold shoulder by the
ladies. To be sure, the Irishman who enlists in the British army would be
treated in the same way at his old home, but as he usually leaves never to
return, the case is materially different. Chance, or the obligation of
supporting aged parents or a helpless family of young brothers and
sisters, usually determines the question, and the young Irishman enters
the constabulary, thenceforth to be a social leper, for the constable is
hated by his countrymen with a hatred that knows no bounds.

From the day he puts on his neat blue uniform and saucer-like cap, the
constable, in the troubled west coast counties, carries his life in his
hand. Every hedge he scrutinizes with a careful eye; behind it may lurk an
assassin. Every division wall is watched for suspicious indications, his
alertness being quickened by the knowledge that he is guarding his own
life. He is compelled to undertake duties obnoxious to his own feelings
and sense of justice, and to risk life and limb to carry out repugnant
orders. A bad year comes, a tenant is in arrears and cannot pay rent; the
agent determines on an eviction and sends for the police. The constables
arrive in force, but the tenant has anticipated them and collected a crowd
of friends. The hut is closed and barred, while inside are half a score of
men and women, determined to resist as long as resistance is of any avail.

[Illustration: The Police and the Tenants]

As soon as the police appear on the