On the way the jarvey good-naturedly exclaimed, "Ah! there comes Mr.Lynch," and even offered to pull up that the magistrate might overtake us.
We found Mr.Hutchins at home, a cool, quiet, energetic, northern man, who seems to be handling the difficult situation here with great firmness and prudence.

Mrs.Hutchins, who has lived here now for nearly a year--a life not unlike that of the wife of an American officer on the Far Western frontier--very amicably asked me to lunch, and Mr.Hutchins offered to show me the holdings of Mr.Dunne and Mr.Kilbride.

Mr.Lynch proposed that we should all go on my car, but I remembered the protest of the jarvey, and sending him to await me at Father Maher's, I drove off with Mr.Hutchins.As we drove along, he confirmed the jarvey's hint as to the difference between the views and conduct of the parish priest and the views and conduct of his more fiery curate.

This is a very common state of affairs, I find, all over Ireland.
The house of Mr.Dunne is that of a large gentleman farmer.

It is very well fitted up, but it was plain that the tenants had done little or nothing to make or keep it a "house beautiful." The walls had never been papered, and the wood-work showed no recent traces of the brush.