In the neighbourhood of Killpatrick’s-town, Lady Dashfort said, there were several _squireens_, or little squires; a race of men who have succeeded to the _buckeens_, described by Young and Crumpe. _Squireens_ are persons who, with good long leases, or valuable farms, possess incomes from three to eight hundred a year, who keep a pack of hounds; _take out_ a commission of the peace, sometimes before they can spell (as her ladyship said), and almost always before they know any thing of law or justice. Busy and loud about small matters; _jobbers at assizes_; combining with one another, and trying upon every occasion, public or private, to push themselves forward, to the annoyance of their superiors, and the terror of those below them. In the usual course of things, these men are not often to be found in the society of gentry except, perhaps, among those gentlemen or noblemen who like to see hangers-on at their, tables: or who find it for their convenience to have underling magistrates, to _protect_ their favourites, or to propose and _carry_ jobs for them on grand juries. At election times, however, these persons rise into sudden importance with all who have views upon the county. Lady Dashfort hinted to Lord Killpatrick, that her private letters from England spoke of an approaching dissolution of parliament: she knew that, upon this hint, a round of invitations would be sent to the squireens; and she was morally certain that they would be more disagreeable to Lord Colambre, and give him a worse idea of the country, than any other people who could be produced. Day after day some of these personages made their appearance; and Lady Dashfort took care to draw them out upon the subjects on which she knew that they would show the most self-sufficient ignorance, and the most illiberal spirit. They succeeded beyond her most sanguine expectations. “Lord Colambre! how I pity you, for being compelled to these permanent sittings after dinner!” said Lady Isabel to him one night, when he came late to the ladies from the dining-room. “Lord Killpatrick insisted upon my staying to help him to push about that never-ending, still-beginning electioneering bottle,” said Lord Colambre. “Oh! if that were all; if these gentlemen would only drink:--but their conversation!” “I don’t wonder my mother dreads returning to Clonbrony Castle, if my father must have such company as this. But, surely, it cannot be necessary.” “Oh, indispensable! positively indispensable!” cried Lady Dashfort; “no living in Ireland without it. You know, in every country in the world, you must live with the people of the country, or be torn to pieces: for my part, I should prefer being torn to pieces.”