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could die reconciled to herself, because reconciled to him. Next day the election was to take place, and both sides promised themselves a small majority, so that the interest excited was keen beyond example. At the first peep of morning, Father Eustace was inspecting the hustings, which were reared through his secret influence on that part of the village belonging to Lord Eaglescairn, and he peremptorily placed in the hand of each voter a card with the name of Mr. O'Grady on it, for whom he made them swear to vote. Several priests had been brought over from Ireland by the new Irish candidate to assist in his canvas, and a most animated scene of Hibernian disorder it was. Father Eustace seemed everywhere at once, and nowhere long, while his Irish brethren were quite at home in such scenes. At one time, he stood in a cart adorned with green boughs and lilacs, bringing in headlong a waggon-load of voters, some tied in pairs together to prevent escape, at another place Father Eustace was pursuing a refractory constituent over hedge and ditch, to force him into giving his free and independent vote for Mr. O'Grady. One poor man, M*Tavish,” who had two of his children at Lady Edith’s school, and was himself, though a good man, not a good Papist, had discovered that his Christian name in. the list of voters was registered wrong, David instead of Duncan he had been called,—therefore he rather gladly declined to take the necessary
* Times newspaper, 31st July, 1852.
oath; but Father Eustace, not to be conquered by a trifling difficulty, took the poor man to an alehouse, where he was unwillingly re-baptized by priest O'Connell, who assured him that this ought to satisfy the most unruly conscience, nevertheless still the unwilling recruit demurred. “You ungrateful renegade l’” said Father Eustace, collaring his captive at last, and dragging him towards the poll. “Duncan M*Tavish vote; or be destroyed body and soul. Brute! will you not hear your own priest?” Did I not bury your wife last week for you, ungrateful idiot as you are, and took not above 101. for my dues?” “I’ll bury the next myself,” replied Duncan, sulkily; “but I cannot vote to-day. I tied off last night with Donald M*Alpine. Though he has broke his leg since, and can’t attend, still a promise is a promise.” “Not if I absolve you from it,” said Father Eustace; “ in that case it is no more binding than a rotten straw.” “Ah!” said one of O'Grady's supporters, tipping a knowing wink to Father Eustace, “I saw Donald brought to the hustings on a shutter this minute, he gave his whole and entire vote for Sir Allan l’” “The rascal; I’ll do for him l’exclaimed Duncan, in high excitement, “his whole and entire vote indeed! But my whole and entire vote shall go contrary to his, therefore small profit he'll get by his shameful trick. Iittle did I expect it of Donald.”
“Ah! these Protestants will do anything, so they can only take our freedom of election from us,” answered Mr. O'Grady’s champion, forcibly hurrying the enraged Duncan straight to the poll. “Now vote like a man, and like a good man too.” “ Hallo, M*Tavish l’’ exclaimed Andrew Carre, “so you are going to break faith with us. Poor Donald M*Alpine died yesterday morning to be sure, but—” “Died l’’ exclaimed Duncan, staggering back before he had pledged himself, aghast with consternation, “If the O’Gradys have deceived me on purpose, they shall pay for it. I'd vote for the Grand Turk himself before I’d vote for any reverend deceivers that would cheat me by a falsehood.” “Beware what you say !” exclaimed Father Eustace, in a voice of thunder, “you shall be a marked man for life, or rather for death, if you do not instantly support the cause of hiberty, by recording your vote. I shall put up your name on the chapel door, I shall denounce you at the altar, I shall forbid you to enter the church, I shall refuse to baptize your child, I shall have the seat in chapel torn up where you sit, I shall let you be buried like a dog, I shall 25 Duncan M*Tavish became pale as a corpse, and grasped hold of a pillar for support; his lips quivered, his knees smote against each other, and the hand visibly trembled in which he held his stick. Father Eustace seeing this advantage, raised his hand as if about to pronounce a fearful malediction on the wavering and terrified culprit, when a sudden shout attracted the attention of both priest and voter, the street became suddenly filled with a roaring and yelling multitude, urged on to apparent insanity by the Irish brigade of priests belonging to Mr. O'Grady, and before Father Eustace could look round again for his prisoner, Duncan M*Tavish had sprung down the steps of the hustings and disappeared. The next moment he found himself within the door of that mournful house in which he then discovered his old friend Donald M*Alpine stretched out for interment, having died early on the previous day. The shouting mob which advanced, consisted of a pell-mell gathering of the lowest rabble from the Popish quarter of Clanmarina, dressed like Falstaff’s ragged regiment, in most picturesque tatters, and even more undisciplined than that celebrated corps. They had banded themselves together in a furious onset against the recently bereaved Robert Carre, who was slowly and firmly walking up the street, clothed in deep mourning, to record his vote for Sir Allan, amidst a storm of hisses and execrations: his countenance alone was calm, his step deliberate, and his eye mild, but solemn in its expression, as he looked mournfully around on the tumultuous mob, whose violence at length brought him to a complete stand still. “My friends and neighbours;” he said in a voice more of pity than of anger, “be rational in your conduct. There are no animals but geese and serpents that hiss. If you have anything reasonable to say, let me hear it. I am but going to exercise the birthright of a Scotchman; I am going to give my vote for the Chief of McAlpine, the successor of our good Sir Evan, the man that seems best fitted to maintain our laws, our real liberty, and our religion 29 “Down with tyrants down with oppressors O'Grady and freedom of election for ever ! keep him off the hustings!” shouted an Irish priest. “Hold him back; away with the heretic l Do not strike, but he who lets that man vote, is no friend to liberty; Pat, stand on the steps there ! Let nobody go up without my signal. We must defend our freedom—” Robert meanwhile resolutely advanced, his tall figure, calm demeanour, and invincible air, giving him an irresistible command, while the active use he had occasion to make of his arms in pushing aside the myriads of his opponents, gave to young Carre's progressive motion the look of a person swimming through the crowd, while opposed by a very tumultuous sea through which to buffet his way forwards. Father Eustace stood at the top of the steps, and Father O’Connell at the bottom, so that the fortress of the hustings seemed impregnable; but young Carre suddenly darted forward to one of the pillars, swung himself like a sailor up to the platform, and before any new violence could be perpetrated upon him, in spite of priest or mob, hooting or yelling, recorded his vote. Andrew Carre then with a loud cheer threw his hat in the air,