whom he speaks, is. If he be a hard man
and an oppressor, it would be well to check
him."

"Och! and that's what he is—"

"Stop!" said the Duke; "I have heard
something of this steward before. Mr.
Macarthy, I will send over a trusty person
to make inquiry on the spot. Return home,
and mind you say nothing of your journey
hither. You shall hear from me; and, if I
find all that you say correct, I will forgive
you the arrears of rent for the service you
will have done your neighbours, and myself
also; for a steward that injures tenants,
injures the reputation of his landlord, and is
capable of injuring him otherwise. Go—be
discreet, if you can—and silent, which I fear
will be no easy matter for you."

It would be no easy matter, either, to
describe the wildness of the poor man's joy,
or the extravagance of his thanks to the
Duke, and to his kind intercessor, Mrs. Arrowman.
The good Quakeress was glad to be
relieved from the Irishman's vociferous gratitude,
and the shock of seeing him on his
knees in the ecstacies of his thankfulness.
Luckily for her, the Duke rang and ordered
Dennis to be conducted to the servants'-hall,
to receive a substantial refreshment, and then
to be driven in a gig to the next town to the
coach; the Duke at the same time putting
into the astonished man's hand a bank note,
more than sufficient to pay the whole of his
fare home.

It may be imagined that Mrs. Arrowman
had, that day, something to talk of when she
reached home. On the following rent-day,
she did not forget to inquire of her ducal
host what was the result of the business.
The Duke smiled, and informed her that he
sent over immediately a confidential person,
who, proceeding to the estate on which Dennis
Macarthy lived, soon ascertained, without
even letting Dennis know of his presence
in the neighbourhood, that all which he had
said was true.

The frauds and exactions of the steward
were only exceeded by his cruel and arbitrary
conduct to the poor tenants. He had grown
rich himself, and a number of the best farms
were in the hands of his own relatives, or of
people who had bribed him to eject others in
their favour. Time went on, and the day of
Dennis's ejection approached; but Macarthy
had ceased to speak of his quitting the farm,
and in reply to the curious inquiries of his
neighbours, said plainly that he did not mean
to quit.

"What!" exclaimed his astonished neighbours,
"not quit! What do you mean to do?
Will you wait to be turned out without house
to go to ?"

Dennis said he would. It was in vain that
his neighbours begged him to think of his
family, and look out for some other farm, for
go, he might depend upon it, he must and
would. Whenever did the steward relent?
And who was able to resist him? He would
come and, with a whole regiment of people at
his heels, throw him and his family into the
highway.

All that Dennis said was, "Let him come."
The whole of the neighbours regarded
Dennis as a man who had taken a secret
resolve of dogged vengeance; his silence, so
different to his former noisy talk; his keeping
away from the whiskey-shop, where he used
to be amongst the most voluble disputants,
were regarded as certain signs of it. Dennis
was seen ploughing and digging and fencing
with more diligence than ever. What could
the man mean ? Had he gone mad? What
sane person would be toiling, and even
improving, the farm, when he must so soon
vacate it for another's benefit ? No matter!
Dennis was as silent and as busy as ever, and
left everyone to wonder as he might. At
length, the steward himself appeared at his
door.

"Well, Macarthy, the time draws on; have
you looked out for yourself ?"

"And why need I look out," asked Dennis,
gruffly, "when I am quite well off here?"

"But you cannot stay here."

"Why not?" asked Dennis; "what ails
me, that I cannot stay here, and my father,
and his father, and all our fathers, staid here
before me? Och bother! and I tell ye, Mr.
Gripps, I'm quite contented, and can stay
here with all my heart."

"That," said Mr. Gripps, "is, if I let you;
and I have told you that you must prepare to
quit on Michaelmas-day, or you'll find
yourself going head-foremost, and rather more
roughly than you'll like. Do you hear that ?"

"Och! by the blessed Saints! and I do
hear it, Mr. Gripps; and much I'll be minding
it, for I know you're only a-joking."

"Joking! Curse the fellow! does he think
I joke on such a matter ? Look ye, Macarthy!
I shall be here for the rent; and, if you are
not ready to pay, stuff shall be detained for
the amount, and I shall proceed to forcible
ejection."

"Troth, and I'll be ready for ye."

The steward looked scowlingly at Macarthy,
as if this reply had some more meaning than
ordinary, and then rode off.

Oh the rent-day, many of Macarthy's
neighbours got together, and were seen hanging
about the neighbourhood of the farm, and
conversing in groups. They were full of
expectation of what would happen. Dennis was
seen going about his yard, as coolly as on any
other day; feeding his cattle, his pigs, and his
poultry, and calling, every now and then, on
one of his sons to help him, or his wife to
bring the wash for the swine, or a bit of grease
for his cart. Towards eleven o'clock, there
was a cry,—"Here comes the steward!" and
Gripps was seen riding towards the farm,
with a troop of stout fellows at his heels. The
number of people lounging about, seemed to
make him suspicious of an intended resistance;