The table was ready in a second. He climbed upon it and explained his idea. The crowd, at first indifferent, became visibly antagonistic. Some agents of the Land League were present, and the great majority of the men assembled were manifestly hostile. Luckily Mr. Trench caught sight of a priest who had come with the others. “Boys,” said he, at the end of his speech, “you do not seem enchanted with my proposals. You know that I cannot discuss it separately with each one of you. But there is Father X----. Let him come on the table by my side; he will tell you what he thinks of it all.” Much surprised, Father X---- mounted the table and commenced to speak. He raised some objections, but listened attentively to Mr. Trench’s reasoning, and ended by declaring that, to him, the idea seemed excellent. This was quite enough to produce a complete change. The case was won; applause broke out on all sides; those nearest to the table already proposed carrying Mr. Trench in triumph. He resumed his speech. Once the principle was declared good, it became necessary to decide upon a place for the first dairy. Then the whole thing was spoilt. These men, who one minute before would not hear of a dairy at all, now quarrelled as to which village should possess it. At first they only abused each other, but as their tempers warmed, the shillalahs began to play. A formidable tumult commenced, the table was upset, Mr. Trench and the curate rolled into each other’s arms, and only picked themselves up to run away as fast as they could in great danger of having their skulls cracked in the brawl, a misfortune which happened to two or three dozen of those present. This meeting is still discussed on the country side. It was what they term “an illigant foight.” At last the dairy was founded and worked to the general satisfaction. Every one brings his milk, and is paid accordingly. The results are very satisfactory, in the sense that the butter, being well made, is sold for two or three pence more than other kinds, though it is still a long way from any rivalry with the Normandy butter--a decided proof of the inferiority of the pasturage in this country. I said, just now, that the situation is less strained here than in many other parts. But that does not mean that it is very brilliant. After talking to the manager of the dairy, I went into the office to say good-bye to Mr. Trench, whom I should not meet again before luncheon. He was reading a letter just brought to him. “There,” said he, giving it to me, “you have just come in time. Look what has taken place during my absence.” I have this letter on my table whilst I write these lines. I wish I could copy it _in extenso_. Unfortunately it is too long. I must therefore confine myself to giving a summary of its contents. It is another study from the life.