INCIDENTS OF RENT-COLLECTION IN IRELAND.

The collection of rents in Ireland is often an unpleasant duty; but amusing incidents sometimes arise. Last year, a farmer in the county of Cavan came to me on the rent-day and said he could not pay more than half the sum he owed. He had much to tell of losses, bad times, and low prices, and I listened with patience until he had finished. I then reminded him that his rent had been reduced under the Land Act, and that I had voluntarily cancelled a considerable arrear; and I firmly refused to accept less than the full amount. Mickey Sheridan—that was his name—was married, and I knew his wife ruled the roast.

‘Now, Mickey,’ said I, ‘you ought to be ashamed of yourself! After what has been done to relieve you, I did expect you to behave better. I am sure your wife would not approve of your conduct.’

Mickey had frequently confided to me that ‘herself’—his wife—gave him ‘a sore life;’ and I desired to learn how far she had meddled in this matter.

After some hesitation, he replied: ‘Well, sir, if ye won’t discover on me, I’ll tell ye the thruth. Herself advised me to pay only half the rent. She’s a good scholar, an’ reads the papers; an’ she tells me a new Land Act will soon be passed an’ all arrears wiped out.—Will yer honour take the half-year?’

‘No, Mickey, I cannot. Be honest, and pay the money you owe. I feel sure you have it all in your pocket.’

That was a hit; for Mickey, with an Irish peasant’s quick sense of the humour of the situation, replied: ‘Begorra, it’s in two pockets! Herself made up the two half-years in separate parcels, an’ put thim into different pockets, to purvint any mistake; an’ I was only to give yer honour one of thim, if I could manage it. But here’s the full money, an’ maybe it’s best to keep out of debt.’

A few weeks later, when I was collecting rents in the county of Longford, one of the principal tenants came forward, before any money had been paid, as the spokesman of thirty others who were present, and asked for an abatement.

‘Why, Pat Molloy,’ said I, ‘you and all here hold your farms at reduced rents, which you agreed to pay under an amicable arrangement made only two years ago and according to the provisions of the Land Act. I cannot do what you ask; but if you really have not the full year’s rent, I will accept three-fourths of it and give you a reasonable time to pay the remainder.’

‘We thank yer honour,’ said Pat; ‘an’ here is my money.’

‘How much did you give me?’ said I, after I had carefully twice counted the bundle of notes.

‘Thirty pounds, sir; an’ all in one-pound notes; an’ shure, it’s the hard work I had to make it!’

‘Och, thrue for ye, Pat Molloy!’ said a voice behind him; ‘faith, it’s not aisy to make the rint those times!’

‘Well, Pat,’ said I, ‘you have given me thirty-nine pounds; and I now have the pleasure of handing you the receipt for the same.’

Whether the ten-pound note had been paid to Pat Molloy in mistake for one pound, and its value was unknown to him, or that he had omitted to take it out of the bundle, could only be matter of conjecture. He kept a close mouth, and left the room.

The misadventure of their leader broke up the concerted union of the tenants; and when I announced, after Molloy departed, that I should insist on full payments—seeing ten-pound notes were apparently plentiful in the district—nearly all the tenants came forward and paid.

It is well known that a great part of the thirty million of deposits held by the Irish joint-stock banks have been lodged by farmers. I have often received deposit receipts when collecting rents. I remember a thrifty man who used to lodge his savings when they reached even five pounds. On the rent-day, it was his annual custom to enlarge on the badness of the times and the low prices; but he invariably supplied the best refutation of his statements by producing a number of deposit receipts for small sums and indorsing them with much pride.

When the land agitation was at its height a few years ago, a friend of mine was collecting rents one day in a town in the county of Leitrim. He was seated in a large room of a hotel, and nearly fifty tenants were present. Very little money had been paid. Abatements were asked which the agent had no power to make, and there was more conversation than business going on. But my friend understands the Irish character and its love of talk, and he knew that if he permitted the men to expatiate on the reasons why they could not pay, he would be more likely finally to get the money; so, he patiently listened to the usual jeremiades, and bided his time. But fortune favoured him. The ringleader, or chief Land-Leaguer, amongst the assembled tenants was Denis Lynch. He held a small farm, but was also a cattle-dealer, and his time was of value to him; and finding he could extract no further concession from the agent, who had offered a fair abatement, he announced that he would pay a half-year’s rent.

‘I must be off,’ he said, ‘to the fair of Boyle, sir, an’ can’t delay here, like those men. Here is a deposit receipt for ten pounds, an’ the half-year’s rint is nine pounds. But be all the saints, yer honour, I made the little thrifle by dealing, an’ not out of the farm!’

‘Well, Denis,’ said the agent, ‘you could not deal in cattle without a farm to feed and rest your stock; and I have told you that I am instructed not to accept less than a year’s rent. But’—glancing at the deposit receipt, which he had taken from the man, and turning it down on the table—‘indorse this receipt, and I will consider your case.’

Lynch wrote his name across the back of the document; and the other adding his own signature, said to his clerk: ‘Take this receipt to the bank up the street and fetch me pound-notes for it.’ He then proceeded to fill a form of receipt for a year’s rent, and handed it to Lynch, who was astute enough to see that he might profit by what he supposed was an error, and quietly folded up the receipt and put it into his pocket.

When the clerk returned, the agent said: ‘Now, Denis, here is your change;’ and he began counting and pushing across the table, to the astonished tenant, note after note.

‘O sir,’ cried Lynch, ‘what are ye doin’ at all?’

‘Why, Denis,’ replied the other, ‘I am paying what is due to you. You gave me a deposit receipt for one hundred pounds; you have got a receipt for a year’s rent; and here are eighty-two one-pound notes, together with eighteen shillings in silver, which is five per cent. discount on your rent. You can’t blame me for retaining a year’s rent—you accepted a receipt for it. And indeed, when a man has hundreds at his banker’s, he may fairly be required to pay his rent in full. Yet, I make you an allowance. You cannot suppose, after what has taken place, and your readiness to avail yourself of what you believed to be an error in the rent receipt, that you should receive the ten per cent. abatement offered to the tenants generally. I have given you half of it, not wishing to be severe. But your tricks have not succeeded; and I hope you won’t forget the lesson of to-day, and that you will remember in future that honesty is the best policy.’

All eyes in the room were turned on Lynch, who hastily gathered up the notes and stuffed them into his pockets; and as he made his way to the door, he was heard to murmur, ‘Begorra, ’twas the wrong receipt!’

He departed, feeling he had lost all title to leadership; and as men will still worship success, even when accidental, many voices joined in complimenting ‘his honour, who was too sharp for Denis Lynch, who thought to act the rogue, but met wid a mistake, glory be to God!’

‘His honour’ was soon busily employed in receiving the full rents, which nearly all the tenants had brought with them. But he believes his collection on that day would have been a very small one, if Denis Lynch had not presented the ‘wrong’ deposit receipt.