esponded the magistrate. Father Quilter still
maintaining his ground, the women crowded in around and behind him, the
men bringing up the rear at a respectable distance, and the small boys
shouting loudly. For a moment faint hopes arose within me that I was
about to witness one of the .exciting scenes of which I have more than
once read. But only for a moment. The magistrate ordered the police to
advance. As they drew near the wall with an evident intention of going
over it into the highway, Father Quilter and the women fell back, the
boys and men retreated up the opposite hill, and the brief battle of
Glenbehy was over.

A small messenger bearing a telegram then emerged from the crowd, and
showing his telegram, was permitted to pass. Father Quilter, in a loud
voice, commented upon this, crying out, "See now your consistency! You
said no one should pass, and you let the messenger come in!" To this
sally no reply was returned. After a little the priest, followed by most
of the people, went up the hill to the holding of another tenant, and
there, as the police came in and reported, held a meeting. From time to
time cries were heard in the distance, and ever and anon the blast of a
horn came from some outlying hill.

But no notice was taken of these things by the police, and when the
tedious formalities of the law had all been gone through with, a squad
of men were put in charge of the house and the holding, the rest of the
army re-formed for the march back, our cars came up, and we left West
Lettur. Seeing a number of men come down the hill, as the column
prepared to move, Mr. Roche, making his voice tremendous, after the
fashion of a Greek chorus, commanded the police to arrest and handcuff
any riotous person making provocative noises. This had the desired
effect, and the march back began in silence. When the column was fairly
in the road, "boos" and groans went up from knots of men higher up the
hill, but no heed was taken of these, and no further incident occurred.
I shall be curious to see whether the story of this affair can possibly
be worked up into a thrilling narrative.

We lunched at Mrs. Shee's, where no sort of curiosity was manifested
about the proceedings at West Lettur, and I came back here with Colonel
Turner by another road, which led us past one of the loveliest lakes I
have ever seen--Lough Caragh. Less known to fame than the much larger
Lake of Killarney, it is in its way quite worthy of comparison w