The leaders were bold only in sordid personal quarrels.

The mass of the people were utterly untouched by the idea of nationality, in earnest about nothing but huckstering and petty gains.

Over all was the grip of a foreign bureaucracy and a selfish Church tightening slowly, squeezing out the nation's life, grasping and holding fast its wealth.

No man any longer made any demand except to be allowed to earn what would buy whisky enough to fuddle him into temporary forgetfulness of the present misery and the imminent tyranny.
The slatternly maid-servant who brought him his meals and made his bed tapped at the door.
'Please, sir, Jimmy Loughlin's after coming with a letter from Mr.
Quinn, and he's waiting to know if you'll go.' Hyacinth read the note, which asked him to call on his employer that afternoon.
'Tell him I'll be there.' 'Will you have your dinner before you go?
The chops is in the pan below.
Or will I keep them till you come back ?' 'Oh, I've time enough.

Bring them as soon as they're cooked, and for goodness' sake see that the potatoes are properly boiled.' He took up a great English weekly paper, with copies of which Canon Beecher supplied him at irregular intervals, and propped it against the dish-cover while he ate.