He then made an attack on the
poor men standing there, asking why they were not at home working, and
telling them what they should be doing. While he lectured these men in a
joking voice, he turned his eye from one to another of those present as
if he were seeking for applause.
These men, not heeding the agent, were presenting a petition to the sub-
sheriff. I drew near to learn what it was. They were thin, listless
looking witted men. One could not help wondering when they had last
eaten a square meal. Half-starved in look, wretched in clothing, stood
like criminals awaiting sentence, with dreadfully eager eyes and parched
lips that would not draw together over their teeth, before the plump
rosy sub-sheriff. They asked for some meal on credit which the sub-
sheriff refused. I asked them if they owed any rent. No, they did not
owe a penny of rent, they said. Remember there was only one harvest
between them and the famine year. They had also put in the crops in
their little holdings, they said, "but as God lives we have neither bite
nor sup to keep us till harvest time." The sub-sheriff asked why they
did not go to a certain dealer.
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