LANDLORD AND TENANT. 
 
 AN IRISH DRAMA, 
 
 IN FOUR ACTS. 
 
 BY H. A. LEWIS. 
 
 ST. LOUIS, MO.: 
 
 THE GILBERT BOOK COMPANY, 
 
 1883. 
 
LANDLORD AND TENANT. 
 
 M IRISH DRAMA, 
 
 m FOUR ACTS. 
 
 BY H. A. LEWia 
 
 ffj R 11 1882 
 
 ""^yo,^:-'-^'^ 
 
 ST. LOUIS, MO.: 
 
 THE GILBERT BOOK COMPANY, 
 
 1882. 
 
r 
 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress in the year eighteen hundred and 
 
 eighty-two, by 
 
 HC. .A.. LEVv^IS, 
 
 in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 
 David atwood, 
 
 PRINTER AND STEREOTYPER, 
 MADISO^, WIS. 
 
LANDLORD AND TENANT. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 LOKD DuNROSE, Earl of Dunrose Castle, Ireland. 
 Lord Arthur, Son of Lord Dunrose. 
 Pat McTiernan, Valet to Lord Arthur. 
 John Macguire, Steward of Dunrose Castle. 
 Tim Grady, Bailiff. 
 Collins, Attorney for the Crown. 
 Fltnnagan, Attorney at Law. 
 Brady, Irish-American Attorney. 
 Dennis O'Brian, Grandson of John O'Brian. 
 John O'Brian. Servant on Dunrose Estate. 
 Margaret O'Brian, Wife of John O'Brian. 
 Lena O'Brian, Granddaughter of John O'Brian. 
 Bridget O'Brian, Granddaughter of John O'Brian. 
 Lady Dunrose, Wife of Lord Dunrose. 
 Lady Cecilia, Daughter of Lord Dunrose. 
 Judge, Guards and Jury. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene 1.— Lodgings in London. Lord Arthur and Pat Mc- 
 
 Tiernan. 
 
 Lord Arthur (well in Ms cups). Home again ! Home again ! 
 Well, it is a relief to get back to Old England once more, and out of 
 that blasted country. Give me a chair. Say, now, by Jove, are you 
 sure this is ray place ? No mistake ? No scenes ? No more rows ? 
 I had enough of that sort of thing in America. That blasted 
 malaria, it is all through me, even in my hair. My hat don't fit. 
 Take it away. 
 
 Pat McTiernan. Yes, sir, this is your place ; rest easy about that ; 
 no trouble here. (Aside.) His conscience hurts him, and he has 
 been drinking a little drop too much and calls it malaria. Well, 
 this is pretty good. But I will get him into bed, for, the journey has 
 been too much for him and he needs rest, for the governor will 
 
4 LAiTDLORD AND TENANT. 
 
 Avant to see liiin to morrow, and he will then have malaria in his 
 head and hair sure enough, for my Lord, you drew too many drafts 
 on the governor. (Aloud.) Now, as you are not well, just let me 
 put you into bed, my Lord, and you will feel better. 
 
 Lord Arthur. Well, may be I would. But, Pat, what do you think 
 will become of Lena? And if the governor only knew about her, 
 what would he do? And the drafts — do you think they have 
 reached here yet? By Jove, I am ruined; and my constitution is 
 full of that accursed malaria, and it seems I will never get rid of it. 
 Pat McTiernan. Cheer up, my Lord; never take more trouble on 
 your head than you can kick off at your heels, you know. And 
 remember all the fun you had while in America — hunting, fishing 
 and gambling. 
 
 Lord Arthur. Yes, gambling; and the drafts, and the woman, and 
 my father when he finds it all out. Don't tell him, Pat, for the 
 world; don't tell him. Oh, that malaria! that malaria! Let me get 
 to bed. What is that knocking at the door? Oh, my father's voice. 
 Let me retire, quick. I cannot sep him to night, my constitution is 
 so racked. Oh, the malaria! Tell him that, Pat, but not about the 
 woman and tlie gambling; but about hunting and fishing, and how 
 expensive it all is — that is a good fellow. (Lord Autkxjr enters 
 another room.) 
 
 Pat McTierncm. Now for my Lord, and a pretty tale I must tell; 
 all for the sake of a man, my master, whose vices are many and 
 whose virtues are few, and merits the contempt of every man and 
 woman. But the woman he so basely deserted — he may well think 
 of her; for unless I am mistaken as to the situation, Pat McTiernan 
 has set the ball in motion that will humble the proud house of Dun- 
 rose, and make my L )rd Arthur have reason to say, I have malaria 
 all through me. (Eater Lord Dunuose.) 
 
 Lord DiiiiroHe. Well, Pat, where is your master; he is here, I sup- 
 pose? I want to see him. Tell him so. 
 
 Pat McTiernan. Your Lordship, he is here; but on account of be- 
 ing knocked up from the journey and having the malaria pretty bad, 
 he has retired, sir. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. What, retired ? and not to see me ? Go and tell 
 him I want to see him at once. 
 
 Pat McTiernan. Very good, sir. (Aside.) Now the war opsns 
 and a fine time we will have of it, to be sure. 
 Lord Dunrose. Hold, Pat; do you say he has already retired? 
 
LAN"DLOED AND TENANT. 5 
 
 Pat McTienian. I did, your Lordship. 
 
 Lord Dixnross. Here, here ! Come back here, and I will ask you a 
 few questions, and see to it that you tell me truth; and you can tell 
 your master in the morning, I want to see him at once. 
 
 Pat McTiernan. As it please your Lordship; and how could I de- 
 ceive j'our Lordship about anything. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. Now. Pat, I want to know what your master did 
 with all the money he spent in America. I hear he took old 
 O'Brian's granddaughter away from Dunrose Castle, and that she 
 went to America with him; but keeping her does not account for 
 the extravagance he indulged in Did he bring her back with him? 
 
 Pat McTiernan. Your Lordship knows it is not the duty of a 
 servant to inquire into his master's concerns, and leastways tell what 
 he sees that would not be to the credit of his master; but the young 
 woman was left in New York. (Aside.) But in good hands, that 
 will not stop with her long, if my name is Pat McTiernan, and can 
 judge. 
 
 Ljord Daaroae. You have grown very honest in your duty to your 
 master, but this won't do to me; for while you serve him you are in 
 my service; for he being my son and under my protection, makes 
 you mj'- servant while serving him. So now to it, and tell me what 
 you know. Did he bet or gamble in any way while over there? 
 
 Pat McTiernan. Your Lordship knows all gentlemen gamble 
 with their friends, and a lord would not be a lord who would not bet 
 on a horse-race. And my master is a very line gentleman and fol- 
 lows the example of his most noble father, and tried to keep up the 
 reputation of his ancestors while in America, and may be it did take 
 a good bit of money ; but I know my place, sir, and do not ask ques- 
 tions of my betters. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. Where did he go? and what did he do? 
 
 Pat McTiernan. Your Lordship well knows it is- an awful big 
 country, and he went all over it. Hunted buflfalo on the Staked 
 Plains, hooked trout in the Rocky Mountains, killed bear in the Yel- 
 lowstone Park, and panthers in New Mexico; and as there are mighty 
 few railroads in that country, it takes a good bit of money to travel 
 And money seems so plenty where tiiey dig it out of the mountains, 
 it goes easy; and for ray master to live as the rest of the fine young 
 men out there, it cost him a good bit of money. Ah! your Lord- 
 ship, to see a bushel of gold pieces stacked upon the gambling table 
 makes a man's mouth water for it, and before he knows it will run 
 
6 LANDLORD AND TENANT. 
 
 his haad ia his pocket for his moaey to win some of it. Every- 
 body is trying his best to win that pile of money. Ah, you never 
 saw the likes of it. And away out West, where you wouldn't think 
 the likes of money ever was at all. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. Yes, yes; I see it all. You have told enough; I 
 see it all. You never saw any one win in that game, I will warrant. 
 Pat McTCeriicm. Ah, sure and I did. One man won a bucketful 
 and then lost all again. Bad luck to him ! 
 
 Lord Dunrose. I see how it all is. Tell your master [ want to see 
 him the first thing in the morning, and to let nothing interfere with 
 his coming to me. Do you hear? 
 
 Pat MoTieraan. I do, your Lordship, and will deliver your mes- 
 sage. (Ande.) And little he'll want to come, to be sure. (Exit 
 Lord Dunrose. Eater Lord Arthur.) 
 
 Lord Arthur. Pat, Pat, bring me some brandy and soda. This 
 malaria! this malaria! it will be the death of me! What did the old 
 governor say ? Was he much mad ? 
 
 Pat McTiernan. His Lordship was very anxious to see you, and 
 says he must see you the first thing in the morning. 
 
 Lord Arthur. He wanted to see me, and must see me in the morn- 
 ing; and did he say what he wanted to see me about? 
 
 Pat McTiernan. He asked me about the trip, and what you did 
 with so much money, and whether or not you gambled. 
 
 Lord Arthur. I see. I am ruined man, a ruined man, when the 
 old governor finds it all out. And the girl, does he know about her, 
 too? 
 
 Pat McTiernan. Yes, my master; he asked me about her also, 
 and if you brought her back with you. But when I told him you 
 left her in New York, he seemed to be satisfied with it. 
 
 Lord Arthur. This malaria (holding glass in his hand), it will be 
 the death of me ! I wish this glass was large enough, I would drown 
 myself in it. But here goes to drown myself from the inside. Now, 
 Pat, stow me away where I can forget myself and go to sleep. Oh, 
 if there be one joy left for me on earth, its name is brandy and soda. 
 Oh, this malaria! It is all through me. 
 
 (End of scene 1.) 
 
 Scene II. — Lord Danrose's Mansion in London. Enter Lord 
 
 Dunrose. 
 Lord Dunrose. Well, I do not like the fix this confounded boy 
 has gotten me into. It is not pleasant; it is perplexing, for I do not 
 
LANDLOED AND TENANT. 7 
 
 exactly see my way out of it. How he could have spent five thou 
 sands pounds in one year, in such a country as the United States, to 
 keep up the dignity of the name he bears, is what I do not under- 
 stand. I can't see through it. I shall have a sharp talk with him. 
 As far as the girl goes, it does not much matter. I cannot blame 
 him, for she was very pretty, and he turned Iier loose, too, where she 
 can get her living by tying to the first man who has money and will 
 take her as his mistress. But to have so much trouble to collect 
 rents from those brutes of tenants, and have a son with such a genius 
 for spending money, do not go well together. But we will see. It 
 may not be so bad after all. (Eater Lord Arthur.) Ho'w now, 
 Arthur? I did not; get to see you last night. Your man said you 
 were very tired and not well, so had retired early. Hope you are all 
 right to-day, and returned full of valuable information of America, 
 and ready to shine when the Queen calls you to the House of Lords. 
 
 Lord Arthur. I am most happ}^ to see you, father, and looking so 
 well. I was not well last night and retired early. Malaria, sir; have 
 been troubled with it of late. Have seen a great deal of America, 
 but it is all a bore, I assure you, sir — positively all a bore. All so 
 primitive; nothing worth mentioning or caring for. To be sui"e 
 there is the hunting and fishing, but one has to go so far to get it. 
 And when you get where the game is, any common fellow who 
 chances to come up with you, if he is a better shot than you are, will 
 carry off the game. All a bore, I assure you, and so very expensive. 
 Every one you meet wants to make all he can out of 5'ou; and one 
 pays so dearly for all he gets. I have brought a few trifles as souv- 
 enirs of the exploits I had while there, but they are not worth men- 
 tioning, I assure you; only valuable from association. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. You certainly enjoyed yourself while there. 
 
 Lord Arthur. Well, yes, after a fashion; but everything was so 
 very primitive and uncongenial, you know. Everybody on perfect 
 social equality; no distinction between a gentleman and his groom 
 you know. By Jove, it was disgusting. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. It seems to me, you indulged slightly in that sort 
 of thing yourself before leaving for America. Ha! ha! 
 
 Lord Arthur. How so ? I assure you I do not comprehend. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. Well, Lena O' Brian, for instance, was a maid at 
 Dunrose Castle, and I have been informed that you persuaded her to 
 leave there and go with you to America. 
 
 Lord Arthur. Who told you so ? 
 
8 LANDLOfiD AND TENANT. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. Now, come, I am not blaming you for it. I admit 
 she was very pretty; but, you know, choose even your mistresses 
 from your own circle, if you want to avoid trouble. But you got rid 
 of her like a man, and left her in New York. A very good place to 
 leave her. 
 
 Lord Arthur. Who told you all that nonsense. You would make 
 it appear that you were better posted in my affairs than I am myself. 
 By Jove, you would. 
 
 Lord Danrose. Well, never mind, it is something else I wanted 
 to talk to you about. My agent informed me you had drawn on him 
 for five thousand pounds while you were gone. Are the drafts yours, 
 or are they forgeries ? I must know, for if they are not yours, he 
 shall lose every one of them he has paid; for you had enough money 
 when you left here to have lasted until your return. 
 
 Lord Arthur. Well, by Jove, that fellow promised not to forward 
 them for collection until such lime as I could meet them, and I do not 
 think it will amount to that much. It is very expensive in America, 
 you know, and then a fellow has to keep up with the men he runs 
 with, you know; and by Jove, I was with the best bloods, and we 
 had a capital time. They bet higli and have the best of everything 
 the land affords, no matter what it costs; and I kept up with the 
 best of them, and sustained the reputation of the British peerage, 
 you know; by Jove I did. Then out West there was the game of 
 "Monte;" and the way tlie boys play it, by Jove it is good. Thou- 
 sands change hands in less than no time. By Jove, they play high 
 and no mistake; you " bet " they do. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. And you played with the boys? 
 
 Lord Arthur. Oh, yes; I learned the game for amusement. You 
 see there was not mucli else to do out there. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. I should like to know how the game is played. 
 
 Lord Arthur. Don't you do it t Don't you do it ! 
 
 Lord Dunrose. Don't do what? 
 
 Lord Arthur. Try to learn monte. It is too expensive ; you would 
 be a pauper in a week. Poker ain't a circumstance. 
 
 Tjord Dunrose. Ah, I see. I see where all the money went to. So 
 you undertook to learn this game, and found, when too late, how 
 expensive it was. 
 
 Lord Arthur (aside). I have given myself dead away, and do 
 not know how to get out of it. I wish Pat was here, the dirty black- 
 guard; he could help me out of it, I know. (Aloud.) Oh, not by 
 
LANDLORD AND TENANT. 9 
 
 any means, I assure you. Only played a little for amusement, but 
 saw how itwas from observation, you know; by Jove I did. (Aside.) 
 I feel the malaria coming on. 
 
 Lord DunroHc. Well, well, we will have to collect the rents more 
 closely, and not let any of the brutes escape; and you will have to 
 live more quietly now than I had intended you should. 
 
 Lord Arthur (aside). It is a great relief to get out of it so easily, 
 and as long as he goes for the tenants, it is all right with me. 
 (Aloud.) Thank you, father, I always knew you were a trump ; by 
 Jove I did. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. Well, you know, I used to be a little inclined that 
 way myself; very fond of the girls. Ha! ha! And I see you are a 
 chip oflF of the old block. I can not blame you for what I used to 
 do myself But be careful in the future, my boy, be careful in the 
 future. 
 
 (Enter Ladies Dunrose and Cecilia.) 
 
 Lord Arthur. My very dear mother, and my dear sister, how 
 do you both do ? I assure you I am very glad to see you after my 
 long absence. 
 
 Lady Dunrose. I am very well, and happy to see you back once 
 more. 
 
 Lady Cecilia. I am delighted to see you, but Pa says you have 
 been very naughty and spent so much money it will most break us 
 up ; and those miserable wretches of tenants have no feeling for us, 
 and only think of themselves. They do not want to pay the rent, 
 and say their houses are not good enough — the mean things, when 
 they are as good as they are used to having. 
 
 Lady Dunrose. Well, my dear son, we have, as your sister says, 
 been very much distressed ; but I feel like turning every one of 
 those ungrateful wretches out of our houses and farms, for the}' try 
 t ' give us all the trouble they can, and are wanting everything but 
 to pay their rent; and that is too high for them, they say, and harp 
 on their rights, as if they had any rights! Why, they have none ! 
 And if I had my way, and it was left to me, I would turn them all 
 out of doors and let them try that a while, and I. pledge my word 
 they would be glad enough to pay the rent in the future, and make 
 no complaint about it. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. As your mother and sister have just said, the ten- 
 ants are giving us all the trouble they can, and every mail brings 
 news of some additional complaints from some of them. I have so 
 
10 LAN'DLORD AND TENANT. 
 
 far refrained from proceeding to extremities, but we must live, our- 
 selves, and have money to keep up our establishment; we must live 
 and entertain befitting our station, and to do so we must have our 
 rents paid. 
 
 L<id,y Dtinrose. Yes, we must refurnish our house this season, and 
 I must have suitable apparel to appear in, wherever I go. 
 
 Lady Gecilia. And I must have ever so many new dresses, as I 
 have worn all I now have, and you know a young lady of station 
 never wears the same dress to more than one party, and we already 
 have invitations to scores of grand parties this season; and I would 
 drive those tenants all out of doors if they cannot pay the rent, and 
 get others that would . 
 
 Lord Dunrose. Here comes the mail now, and we will see what 
 further news from Dunrose Castle. Here is a letter from Macguire. 
 We will open it first, and see what there is in regard to our affairs 
 over there. (Opens and reads.) 
 
 "Your Lordship hardly knows or realizes the condition of things 
 here. There are many of the tenants who have declared they are 
 unable, at present, to pay the rent now due, but promise to pay next 
 season. Their crops have been very short on account of a bad sea- 
 son, but they yet hope to meet their arrears. But there are some 
 who will never be able to pay, old John O'Briau among the num- 
 ber, who, though he has been a good tenant heretofore, is now very 
 old and his wife is feeble, and since his grandson was transported, 
 and his granddaughter left her place and ran away, it has gone very 
 hard with them ; but without your orders. I would not give them 
 notice." 
 
 Lady Dunrose. If they are too old to work, let them go to the 
 poor-house. We certainly cannot afford to keep them on a good 
 farm for nothing. Whoever heard of such a thing! No, no, they 
 must go. 
 
 Lord Dunrose (reading): "I am of the opinion that not more 
 than half the usual return can be relied upon from the entire estate, 
 and all the tenants demand better houses and more fertilizers or a 
 great reduction in the rent." 
 
 Lady Dunrose. That means I cannot get new furniture and give 
 my usual entertainments. 
 
 Lady Oecilia. And that I will have to do without my new dresses, 
 and will have to stay at home this season. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. Yes, yes ; but it would not be so bad if it had not 
 
LANDLORD AKD TENANT. 11 
 
 been for Arthur's extravagance. Just think of spending five thou- 
 sand pounds, and for nothing! At that rate he would consume the 
 best estates in all the la.nd. 
 
 Lord Arthur. I have the malaria very badly; all- through me; 
 and I feel very badly. I believe I will go to my lodgings. 
 Lady Dimrose. Why, Arthur, what is the matter with you? 
 Lord Arthur. You see I was exposed a good deal, you know, 
 while in America, and got my system full of malaria, and it settled 
 in my head, and it cost me a good bit of money to get it cured ; but 
 it still affects me when anything worries me, or I get fatigued. I 
 think I had better go to my lodgings and rest a while. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. No, sir, you must not go now ! But this seems 
 
 very strange; I never heard of such a thing as malaria in the head. 
 
 Lord Arthur. No, it does not occur out of America, you know. 
 
 Lord Danrose. So it was to get rid of this strange aiBlction, was 
 
 where the immense amount of money you have spent has gone to, 
 
 is it? 
 
 Lord Arthur. Well, yes. But the fellow said he would wait for 
 the money, you know, and he has sent the drafts on. And besides, 
 he guaranteed a permanent cure, and you see it still affects me. I 
 had better go now, I think. 
 
 Lady Dunrose. This is dreadful to think of. And those miser- 
 able, ungrateful wretches who want to ruin us. I would have Mac- 
 guire to give notice to those tenants, every one, who did not pay the 
 rent, and those O'Brians particularly; they are all ungrateful. Just 
 to think of that Lena who left our service and ran away, and created 
 a scandal at our castle, and when she had a good place and good 
 pay — two pounds the year — and to run off with some worthless 
 fellow. I know it was some worthless fellow she ran off with. 
 And there is that Dennis who was transported. He will be getting 
 away and coming back, and will be sure to give us trouble. Do 
 not talk to me, my Lord Dunrose, you had better attend to this at 
 once, for we must live, as well as those miserable wretches. And 
 our poor Arthur, see how afflicted he is. 
 
 Lridy QeaLUa. I quite agree with mother. There is no other way 
 to do justice to ourselves bat to get rid of all no-acconnt, worthless 
 tenants, and get some that can pay the rent. And as mother says, 
 especially the O'Brians must go, and if they are old, they can go to 
 the poor-house. 
 hard Dunro&e. Well, well, I suppose that is the best that can be 
 
12 LANDLORD AND TENANT. 
 
 done; and I will write to Macguire and tell him to give them 
 notice. What say you, Arthur, about the O'Brians? May be they 
 can go to America, -where they may meet some of their friends. 
 
 Lord Arthur. Ah, I assure you, I cannot give any advice about 
 it, you know; it has been so long since I was there, you know. But 
 you must have the rent, you know. I feel very badly and must go. 
 (Exit Lord Arthur.) 
 
 Lady Danrose. Poor fellow, poor fellow, he is so afflicted. 
 
 Lady Geeilia. Oh, it is too bad that he should suffer so much. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. I will send the orders to-daj^, and I will warrant 
 when I get through, the tenants at Dunrose will be glad enough to 
 accept my terms. And you need have no fears about the O'Brians, 
 for I share your views. (Aside.) But for different reasons; and did 
 they but know how nearly they affected poor Arthur. I go at once 
 to attend to these matters. 
 
 Lady Dunrose. And we go to arrange for our entertainments. 
 
 (Exit all.) 
 
 (End act 1.) 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene 1. — 0' Brian Cottage, Ireland. Enter John and Margaret 
 
 O'Brian. 
 
 John 0' Brian. Poverty! poverty! It steals upon us with an iron 
 grasp, and soon the little life left in us will be hushed forever. 
 
 Margaret O'Brian. John, do not cry out against Providence, but 
 be thankful it is no worse. We still have this place to live in. 
 
 John O'Brian. Yes, yes; but wlien I remember that my own fore- 
 fathers owned all these lands, and were robbed of them, and that I 
 gave my own best years in defense of Great Britain, and followed 
 the noble Wellington through all his wars, and that our son died 
 fighting for his country at Sebastapol, and how we have devoted 
 fifty years to working this little farm and have paid all the profits of 
 our life-long labor to enrich our landlords, and see how they have 
 wronged us in every way; and now to see ruin staring us in the face, 
 and no prospect for improvement, it is too much to endure without 
 complaining. 
 
 Margaret O'Brian. All you say is true, too true; but try not to 
 look on the dark side. Hope that there will be some relief sent us, 
 and at least we will have this place, though humble, that we can 
 
LA1S"DL0ED AND TENANT. 13 
 
 still call home. Cheer up, my good man. We have indeed suffered 
 mucli oppression in the loss of our two grandchildren, but they will 
 yet come back to us, to cheer our old age, and while we have this 
 old place, we will struggle on and hope for the best. (Knocking at 
 the door.) 
 
 John 0' Brian. Who is there? Go, Margaret, and let them in. 
 There are some people at the door. (Enter Tim Grady, bailiff, and 
 assistant.) How now ! how now ! You have not come again for the 
 rent, to pester an old man, when you know he has had no chance to 
 get any money for you. God help us! God help us ! ^ 
 
 Tim Grady. My Lord Duurose has ordered notice to quit to be 
 served on all the tenants who have not paid the rent, and I have 
 come to execute his orders, and serve notice on you. 
 
 Margaret 0' Brian. My God, can this be true! After all we have 
 suffered, that now as winter is coming on, we two old people are to 
 be turned out of doors ! You cannot mean it. 
 
 Tim Orady. It is true, Mrs. O'Brian, and here is the written no- 
 tice. I leave it with you, Mr. O'Brian, and the law only gives you 
 ten days to vacate the premises; and if at the end of that time you 
 are not gone, I have my orders to eject you, every one. (Exit Tim 
 Grady.) 
 
 John O'Brian. What shall we do! what can we do! And no 
 place to go to. And no friends to help us in our troubles. Oh, 
 what can we do ! What will become of us I cannot tell. 
 
 Margaret O'Brian. If only Dennis were here he could take care 
 of and provide for us; but he was transported because he loved his 
 country and his people, and joined a society that was striving to 
 relieve their oppression and secure their freedom. 
 
 John O'Brian. Two old people, helpless! and yet driven out to 
 starve for the sake of a few shillings due a lord who spends his 
 thousands of pounds a year in fast living and furnishing his son 
 money with which to seduce and debauch our daughters, the 
 money being wrung from the hard earnings of the poor. And when 
 misfortuue overtakes our crops, though they have enjoyed the profits 
 of our labor for years, yet they will not give us a chance to live; 
 but must drive us out like dumb brutes to starve. This is too much, 
 too much to bear! 
 
 Margaret O'Brian. Oh, it cannot be that Lord Dunrose can be so 
 heartless. He will not drive us out. It cannot be possible that he 
 means to have it done. I cannot believe that it is possible. 
 
14 LA]S"DLOED AND TEKAKT. 
 
 John 0' Brian. I wish I thought so; but this notice — curse the 
 
 thing — is the badge of our servitude; and like the old horse when 
 
 he ceases to be of service, is driven out to die. So with us. We 
 
 have lived too long. Outlived our usefulness, and must be turned 
 
 out to die. (Exit all.) 
 
 (End scene 1.) 
 
 Scene 3. — On the road in Ireland. Enter Dennis O'Brian, singing 
 an Irish song. 
 
 Dennis O'Brian. Back to dear old Ireland once more, and on the 
 road to Dunrose Castle. To morrow I will be at the old home-place 
 again. How long it seems since I left. I wonder what the boys 
 are doing in Australia. It was too good the way I gave tlie guard 
 the slip. An Irishman will be an Irishman wherever he goes, and 
 the jack tars ou the Clipper ship — God bless them — stowed me 
 away, and here I am, well and hearty, and not much the worse for 
 the wear, after three years' service in a foreign country. But I must 
 keep very quiet or the constables will be after me — bad luck to 
 them — and send me back a^ain, and that won't suit me very well ; so I 
 must be on the lookout for the devils — may the curse of Mulchaley 
 be upon them. I wonder how the old folks are, and my two sisters. 
 All well, no doubt, as bad news never needs a carrier; it always 
 goes itself So as devil a bit of a word have I heard, that must be 
 good news to me. And I will be there to morrow and set them all 
 happy, no doubt. To-night I'll just sleep in the hedge and not dis- 
 turb them, and as I am used to rough times, it will not hurt me ; and 
 may be I will dream of home and the good time I will have when 
 I get there. (Exit, singing.) 
 
 (End scene 2.) 
 
 Scene 3. — O'Brian Cottage. Enter John and Maegaket O'Bkian. 
 MAKaARET O'Brian very ill and in bed. 
 
 Margaret O'Brian. I tell you, John, Dennis is coming. He will 
 be here very soon. 
 
 John O'Brian. I hope he may; but all looks gloomy enough 
 now. 
 
 Margaret O'Brian. 1 want to live long enough to see him, and tell 
 him all the wrongs we have suffered, and have him try to find poor 
 Lena. 
 
 John 0'' Brian. Poor Dennis' Is, will be little comfort he will 
 
LANDLORD AND TENANT. 15 
 
 take in coming back, when he sees us turned out of doors and every- 
 tliing gone. 
 
 Margaret 0' Brian. I hear him! I hear him! I know his foot- 
 steps! (Enter Dennis O'Beian.) 
 
 Dennis O'Brian. How do you do, grandfather, and grandmother, 
 too, and you so ill. I had expected to have seen you both well, and 
 as I left you. 
 
 John 0' Brian. The world has gone very ill with us since you left 
 us, my son, and it is a bad way we are in now, to be sure ; but we 
 are both glad to see you. Margaret said you would be coming 
 to-day, but I little thought how you could come back to us again. 
 
 Margaret 0' Brian. I knew you would come. I saw you last night 
 in the hedge, and was so glad you were coming, for I am not long 
 for this world; and I wanted to tell you how we have been treated 
 and how much we had suffered, before I died. 
 
 Dennis O'Brian. Do not talk about dying, grandmother. I have 
 come back now and will take care of you, and you will soon be well 
 again. But where are my two sisters, are they not here ? 
 
 John O'Brian. Bridget is a nurse at the hospital, but only makes 
 a bare living for herself. Lena went to Danrose Castle, into service 
 there as maid, but — but — 
 
 Margaret 0' Brian. But is gone now, and — and — that is one thing 
 I want to tell you of. We have notice to quit this place because we 
 cannot pay the rent, and we must leave here and cannot stay any 
 longer than to-day. And we do not know where to go or what is to 
 become of us. But I feel that I wiil not need a place long, and if 
 God spares me to tell you of our wrongs, my son, I shall be content 
 to die. But before I begin, let me know how you made your escape 
 and got back here. Then I will tell you all. While you talk I will 
 rest, and collect my thoughts, to tell you what you must hear. 
 
 Dennis O'Brian. My tale is soon told. I took leg-bail on them 
 and was not long in getting on a ship, where I found some of my 
 own countrymen, and they stowed me away; and after I reached 
 Ireland, it did not bother me much to get home ; and that is all that is 
 worth the telling. But I will have to keep clear of the constables 
 for a while, for they might want to send me back to that same place 
 again, and I am not ready to go. 
 
 John 0' Brian. We are very thankful to see you back, even if you 
 did run away from them; but I am sorry you find us so bad off. 
 
 Margaret O'Brian. You know we have lived here for a long time 
 
16 LAKDLOED AND TEifANT. 
 
 on this place and worked hard to keep ourselves above want and 
 raise our children in the right way. You have often heard how it 
 was that your grandfather here followed the noble Wellington 
 through all his campaigns, and was so terribly wounded at the battle 
 of Waterloo, and since that time has cultivated this poor farm and 
 never was in arrears with his rent until this year. How, though he 
 was crippled in the defense of the honor of England, he has been a 
 slave to a lord, and though oppressed and wronged, that goveranient 
 which he so gallantly defended has never protected him. How your 
 own father, our son, answered the call for soldiers to protect 
 England's interest against the encroachments of Russia, and lost his 
 life in the Crimea, leaving a widow and three little children to 
 mourn his loss. His poor wife soon followed him in death, and 
 you all were left to us to shelter and care for as best we could; and 
 you know too well the many years of watching and struggling it 
 cost us. But the government, whose battles your father gave his life 
 to win, never thought of you, nor cared what became of you. Time 
 rolled on and you were grown to manhood, when the oppression of 
 the landlords, supported by the government, became too much to 
 bear, and a society was organized to protect the people from the 
 tyranny of the landlords and the despotism of the government for 
 whose interests they had so often given their lives to defend and 
 maintain. You being but a boy, full of the impetuosity of youth, 
 feeling the stings of injustice, joined this society, and I need not 
 remind you of the penalty you paid for loving j^our own people and 
 wanting to see them freed from the yoke of servitude. But deeper 
 wrongs are yet to be told ; those you know not of; but such as will 
 tear your heartstrings, and if there be any manhood left in you, will 
 make you swear vengeance against them, and never let you rest con- 
 ent until you have visited that punishment upon them they so richly 
 deserve, and let them suffer as we have done at their hands. 
 
 Dennis 0' Brian. Never fear, grandmother. Go on, tell me all; 
 and I promise you I will never rest until I have wrung from the 
 oppressors a full recompense for all the wrongs they have done you 
 in my absence. 
 
 Margaret O'Brian. Be but patient and you shall hear all. Even 
 more than you will want to know has happened, and would to God 
 it had never occurred; but being done, calls for vengeance. 
 
 John O* Brian. Do not tell him any more now, mother; it might 
 excite the boy and make him do something rash. You know he 
 
LANDLORD AND TENANT. 17 
 
 must keep himself kind of close for a while. You had better not 
 tell him any more now. Wait a little; it won't do to tell all now. 
 
 Margaret O'Brian. I will not be here much longer, and I must 
 ^ell him while I can. Your sister Lena was but a child when you 
 were carried away, but she grew up, very soon, to be a beautiful 
 woman; in size and appearance fullj^ mature, but indisposition and 
 experience a perfect child. She went to Duurose Castle to do ser- 
 vice there as maid. We were too poor to keep the arirls, and they 
 had to care for themselves, and we thought it for the best, God 
 knows. Not long after she went there to live. Lord Arthur came to 
 Ireland and spent some time at the castle, where he saw Lena, and 
 her beauty seemed to fascinate him. He did everything he could to 
 accomplish her ruin; but did not succeed until he cloaked his vil- 
 lainies in the lawful guise of a proposal of marriage; but imposed 
 secrecy upon her, and charged her not to tell any of her friends or 
 family about it, as he intended keeping it a secret from his own peo- 
 ple, as it would ruin him if found out. And by various means he 
 kept her imagination fed, and held out all the allurements of wealth 
 and station, and thus gained her consent to a secret marriage. You 
 can guess the rest. He had a mock service performed, and she be- 
 lieving she was married, left with him, and they both went to 
 America. After having been gone a year, hp has returned without 
 her, and I hear basely deserted her there, in a strange country, witii- 
 out money and without friends. And this was your sister! Beauti_ 
 ful, and as pure as an angel, seduced, debauched, and deserted ; 
 ruined for earth and Heaven! And yet that man still lives, and his 
 father orders us to be cast out of this our only shelter, to starve and 
 die where we may. And yet this is Great Britain, a free govern- 
 ment ! But its provisions do not reach the poor of Ireland, except to 
 sustain their oppressors. 
 
 Dennis 0' Brian. Ruined for earth and Heaven ! Mother, oh 
 mother, I swear to you this base crime shall not go unpunished. 
 He is not worthy to be called a man and suffer such wrongs as these 
 to be heaped upon him, and still bow the suppliant neck. Ah, no! 
 I have not sunk so low as to allow this most unnatural wrong to 
 pass unheeded and unavenged. (Noise outside. John O' Brian ^oes 
 out and finds bailiff and guards there.) 
 
 John O^Brian. Do go away. We have one more day, and the old 
 woman is very sick and cannot be moved to-day, or I would have 
 been gone. She has been very bad oflf ever since you were here. 
 2— L. &T. 
 
18 LA1S"DL0RD AND TEISTANT. 
 
 Do give us one more day. It will do no harm W anj^body, one day 
 will not, and she is so ill, and the weather is very bad, and we are 
 both so old, and have no place to go to and no one to help us. 
 
 Tim Grady. Get out with you. I have my orders and cannot 
 wait a day for anybodj', sick or well. I will tumble you all out, 
 and to-day, too. 
 
 JoTinO'Brian. (Gatching Jiold of Mm.) No! no! do not go in, 
 she is very ill and we will leave. 
 
 Tim Grady. Out with you. I will get her out, never fear. (Jerks 
 loose from John-, and the old man falls, and Tim Grady enters. Den- 
 nis has stepped to one side out of view. Tim Grady going to the bed, 
 catches hold of Mrs. O' Brian.) 
 
 Tim Grady. Get out of that; you can't fool me; it will not work. 
 (Pulls her to her feet on the floor. Dennis rushes towards him, draw- 
 ing a knife, Gatch"s Tim Grady by the throat, and stabs, and Tiu falls 
 to the floor.) 
 
 Dennis O'Brian. Let her loose, and take that to hell with you, 
 where you will have time to make your settlements. (Margaret 
 O'Brian, bsinj released from Ms hold, is about to fall, but is caught 
 by Dennis, who throws Ms knife down and gently lifts her onto the 
 bed. but the shock has been too much for her, and she is dead.) 
 
 Dennis O'Brian. She is dead! she is dead! and that brute has 
 killed her. (Guards run in and catch him and pinion his arms, be- 
 fore he realiz3s what is being done. Looking around and seeing the 
 situation.) I am lost! I am lost! Ruined for earth and Heaven, 
 and yet I am unavenged on the man who has so cruelly wronged us. 
 
 (Exit all.) 
 
 (End of act II, scene 3.) 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene 1. — Dunrose Mansion, London. Enter Lady Dunrose. 
 
 Lady Dunrose. 1 am blessed with such a noble son and such a 
 charming and beautiful daughter. Never did a mother have greater 
 reason to feel proud ot her children. Both are courted and admired 
 by all they meet. And the wa}'- young ladies single out Arthur to 
 lavish their attentions and charms on him, is really disgusting. He 
 could choose any one of them for a wife, and have her for the ask- 
 ing. It is really wonderful. And Cecilia! the gentlemen throng 
 
LAlfDLORD A]S^D TENAKT. 19 
 
 about and follow her wherever she goes. (Enter Lady Cecilia.) 
 Good morning, my daughter, I hope you feel well this morning. 
 After so much gaiety last evening you would hardly be otherwise 
 than tired to-day. 
 
 Lady Cecilia. Ah, no! Not tired, but on the contrary very well. 
 I enjoyed the evening so much, and my Lord Clarence was so agree- 
 able ; and did you observe how very attentive he was to me ? It made 
 the Countess of Beargrass very jealous that I should have commanded 
 his time, when she had intended to secure him for one of her plain 
 daughters. How can I thank you for the beautiful blue dresses you 
 ordered from Worth's. That one I wore last night was so admired by 
 every one. In fact, all ten of them are exquisite in every way, and 
 oh ! so lovely and so becoming to me. 
 
 Lady Dunrose. They ought to be nice when they cost one hun- 
 dred pounds apiece. But if they suit you, and are becoming, I do not 
 care for the cost. I am determined you shall appear well dressed. 
 
 Lady Geeilia. I was afraid those miserable tenants' not paying 
 their rent would prevent me from getting what I needed. But if I 
 were father I would have the money out of them. What use have 
 they for money, anyway ? They have never been accustomed to have 
 anything, and would not know what to do with it if they had. I 
 hate low, common people. I do not see what use they are in the 
 world, and we would be better off if there were none. They are only 
 fit to serve us who require them to wait on us, and do the drudging, 
 for our constitutions are too delicate to work, and besides it is un- 
 refined. 
 
 Lady Dunrose. You are right, my daughter. I have always felt 
 that way. But here comes some wine. Your father has just pur- 
 chased a lot that is said to be very fine — a guinea the bottle; and, if 
 you like, you can join me in sampling a bottle, and we will see if it 
 equals its reputation. 
 
 Lady Cecilia. Certainly, most happy to join you. Your health! 
 Ah, it is delicious. I hope he has secured a plenty of it. 
 
 Lady Dunrose. Oh yes, he has obtained quite a liberal supply, 
 for we will use a good deal in our entertainments this season. 
 
 Lady Cecilia. Mother, I looked in the Heraldry last night when 
 I returned from the party, and find Lord Clarence's family were 
 titled by William the Conqueror. How nice to have such quarter- 
 ings. Oh, how utterly delightful ! And I think he will propose the 
 next time he comes to call. He said last evening he wanted to see 
 
20 LANDLOBD AND TEN"AN"T. 
 
 my father on some business as soon as possible, and I Isnow it is to 
 procure his consent; but he need not have taken that trouble. But 
 you know he is such a fine gentleman, and so noble and agree 
 able, and will have a very large estate with his title. Marchioness 
 
 of ! I cannot speak the name; it is too delightful to think of. 
 
 What grand living we will have. Do you think father can afford 
 me a respectable dower? Oh, there come those miserable tenants 
 with the rents unpaid to interfere again with my happiness. 
 
 Lady Dunrose. You have every reason to feel proud of the con- 
 quest of my Lord, and as to the dower, if we have to turn every one 
 of the wretches off of the estate in order to raise the amount, why 
 ■we will do it. We cannot afford to sacrifice your future happiness 
 to gratify such a lot of whining, complaining, shiftless set of de- 
 graded wretches. Ah, no! not by any means! And if they must 
 all be turned out, why turn them out. And my Lord Dunrose will 
 have no peace, day or night, until he does it. He knows me, and 
 ■will not dare refuse me anything I ask in earnest ; for he knows I am 
 a determined woman and will have mj- way about such things. 
 Sacrifice a marriage with a noble house like my Lord's, fi)r the sake 
 of the comfort and gratification of such things as tenants! No, 
 never! 
 
 Lady Cecilia. How can I express to you my gratitude. For this 
 arranged, and I married to my Lord, then indeed my happiness 
 would be complete — one constant flow of bliss. 
 
 Lady Dunrose. Show your gratitude by leaving it all to me, and 
 I tell you, it all shall be arranged satisfactorily. (Enter Lord Dun- 
 
 KOSE.) 
 
 Lord Dunrose. Your sentiments do you honor. But from my 
 mail that reaches me to-day, I fear your expressions are a little posi- 
 tive, considering the condition of our affairs in Ireland. And if 
 you will give me your attention, I will read you what I have re- 
 ceived. 
 
 Lady Dunrose. What has happened now? No more bad news; 
 and all seemed so smiling and lovely. What can it bs to further 
 annoy us ? 
 
 Lady Uecilia. And my chances so flattering to become a mar- 
 chioness. It will be too dreadful if anything occurs to prevent it. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. A marchioness! Well, Lord Clarence did hint to 
 me that at some convenient time he had something to communicate 
 to me, and that is where the wind lies, is it? But I fear, for the 
 
LANDLORD AND TENANT. 21 
 
 present, that will have to be postponed, as you will see wnen I read 
 what I have here. (Beads.) " I gave notice on tenants as you 
 ordered, and Tim Grady, a very trusty man, served the notices; and 
 at the proper time to eject them, took a guard, and all those who did 
 not pay the rent he had them set out of doors. But when he came 
 to old O'Brian's, who should be there but Dennis O'Brian, and wheu 
 Tim undertook to execute the writ, Dennis stabbed him with a 
 knife and killed him. But the guard took Dennis prisoner and he 
 is now in the jail. But if he is not dealt with severely, it will be 
 no use trying to do anything here, as the tenants are all in sympathy 
 with him, and everything looks very discouraging to get any money 
 out of them. If your Lordship can find the time, it might be well 
 for you to just come over and see to the trial; for no one will be 
 safe to do business if the likes of this occurs and goes unpun- 
 ished." What do you tliink of that? It seems that the rents are 
 not to be paid and possession surrendered without trouble and blood- 
 shed. But Artliur and I will both go over there and see that the 
 scoundrel gets his dues, and teach the others a lesson they will not 
 forget for a while. 
 
 Lady Duarose. Oh, dear! to think all our plans are interfered 
 with and set at naught by such low, degraded and miserable things 
 as those tenants are. It is humiliating to think that they can in 
 any way control us. Oh, it is dreadful! But I would go and teach 
 that scoundrel what it is to kill one of my bailiffs, in the proper dis- 
 charge of his duty, in maintaining our rights. The audacity of 
 such a thing ! I thought he had been transported. How came he 
 there at that time, I would like to know? 
 
 Lord Dunrose. Macguire does not say, and I do not know. But 
 I shall attend to his case when I get over there. But I must see 
 Arthur and prepare for the journey. Delays are dangerous, and if 
 the prosecution is to have any effect, it must be done quickly. There 
 is too much at stake to hesitate now. 
 
 L^ady Cecilia. I am in despair. I would rather see a hundred 
 tenants starve to death than to have my marriage with my Lord in- 
 terfered with. Because they have no feelings, they think we have 
 none. 
 
 Lord Dunrose (looking around sees Worth^sbill). What is this? 
 You do not mean to say you have indulged in this extravagance at 
 this time? (Beading.) "Two thousand pounds! " It is not possi- 
 ble ! Why, with Arthur's trip to America, and the failure to collect 
 rents, I have already overdrawn my bank account. 
 
22 LANDLORD AND TENANT. 
 
 Lady Bunrose. You do not suppose we can go naked ! If you 
 had begun in time with those tenants, you would have had the rent 
 long ago, and suffered none of this inconvenience ; but you left it to 
 Macguire, who does not care what beomes of us. Now, if you go 
 there yourself and let them know you will have it out of them, they 
 can and will pay you all. 
 
 Lady Cecilia. How could I ever expect to find a suitable husband 
 unless 1 dressed becoming my station; and to go into society with- 
 out fashionable clothes, is to go to be ridiculed and laughed at, 
 and it would be far better not to go at all. 
 
 Lord Bunrose. The situation is exasperating, but I cannot waste 
 words now. I must see Arthur and prepare to go to Ireland. I 
 will send for him to come here, and while I wait for him, will be 
 arranging my affairs for our departure. (Exit Lord Dunrose.) 
 
 Lady Dunrose. I have no patience with those miserable tenants. 
 And if I had my way and the power, would drive them all out to 
 starve if they did not find some way to live. But we must be pre- 
 paring for that grand party that we go to this evening, and we have 
 no time to think of such disagreeable, disgusting tilings — such low, 
 contemptible things as tenants who will not pay their rent. 
 
 Lady Cecilia. No, they are not worth considering for a moment. 
 Oh, I will meet my Lord again tonight, and I shall be so happy in 
 his company, and seeing liim smile so sweetly upon me. Oh, it is 
 simply lovely to have a handsome young man smile upon you and 
 look as if he could eat you for pure love ! Oh, it is heavenly ! 
 But I must go to prepare, and I must look my best. 
 (End scene 1.) 
 
 Scene 3. — Lodgings in London. Enter Lord Arthur and Pat 
 
 McTlERNAN. 
 
 Pat McTiernan. Your Lordship, here is a note from Lord Dun- 
 rose; it was just delivered by a servant. (Lord Arthur opens and 
 reads.) 
 
 Lord Arthur. He says he wants to see me at once, and to prepare 
 to go with him to Ireland, as one of his bailiffs has been killed by 
 one of the tenants, because the bailiff was trying to eject him. I do 
 not see what good it would do for me to go there. I do not think it 
 is very healthy over there. I am not entirely over my trip to Amer- 
 ica, and if I have a relapse it will be fearful hard on me. Pat, that 
 country is not healthy for one in my condition, do you think it is? 
 
LAITDLORD AND TENANT. 23 
 
 Pat McTiernan. You seemed to be very well when there before, 
 sir, and I do not think it likely the country has changed very much, 
 sir. (Aside.) I expect he is afraid of meeting some one he does not 
 want to see. 
 
 Lord Arthur. I see you want to go yourself and expect to accom- 
 pany me if I make the trip, and you shall; but mighty little time 
 you will have to frolic when we get there. Confound it ! there are 
 all the parties and my little affair with Lady Ann. Why, I could 
 marry her and get enough dower with her to keep me going for 
 some time; but this knocks it all up, to be sure. By Jove, it is hard, 
 luck for a fellow to be so near taking the game and then be com- 
 pelled to g'ive up the chase, you. know. By Jove, it is rather hard. 
 But I do not want to go to Ireland. That woman might get back, 
 and — and — she might be troublesome, you know. Pat, do j^ou 
 know what tenant it was that did the killing? 
 
 Pat McTiernan. I heard, sir, that it was Dennis O'Brian, sir; and 
 that he had just got back from transportation, sir, and that he stuck 
 a knife in Tim Grady, sir, and that was all I heard, sir. 
 
 Lord Arthur. What Dennis O'Brian? Lena's brother? 
 
 Pat McTiernan. The very same, sir, as I live. (Aside.) That 
 scares him all over. 
 
 Lord Arthur. Then I do not want to go there. The fellow might 
 take otfense at what I did — that little affair with Lena — and take 
 a notion to stick a knife in me, too. That malaria, it is very bad 
 again, and it would be out of all reason for me to expose myself to 
 a relapse by going to such a country as Ireland. But I must go to 
 my father, and learn from him what he wants to do. (Exit Lord 
 Akthur.) 
 
 Pat McTiernan. A fine young man that, to be sure. And " Den- 
 nis might take offense at what he had done! " Dennis would be a 
 dog if he did not, and you well may talk about the country being 
 unhealthy. It is, for the likes of you. (Exit.) 
 (End of scene 2, act III.) 
 
 Scene 3. — Lord Dunrose's Mansion, London. Enter Lords Dtjnrose 
 and Arthur. 
 
 Lord Bunrose. Well, you received my message, did you? 
 Lord Arthur. Yes, sir, and am here in response to it. If I may 
 ask, what is it that called for so much haste ? 
 
24 LAISTDLORD AKD TEN'ANT. 
 
 Lord Dunroste (handing him Macguike's letter). Read that and 
 see what you think of it. It is my opinion that we cannot be too 
 prompt in taking action in the premises; and cost what it may, we 
 are bound to get that fellow convicted and executed; for while he 
 lives our own lives are not safe. It is a high-handed outrage to kill 
 an officer of the law in the discharge of his duty. 
 
 Lord Arthur. It looks as though it was rather taking things by 
 storm. By Jove, it does. And we are not sure that he will not try 
 his hand on us if it is in his power. But I will be careful to keep 
 out of his way if that is his style, you know. It would not be very 
 pleasant, you know, to have one's self dissected while yet alive. By 
 Jove, it would not be just the thing. It might be disfiguring. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. Now, Arthur, I have made up my mind that you 
 and I had better go to Ireland immediately, and see that Dennis 
 O'Brian has a trial as soon as possible, and is convicted, and no time 
 lost in his execution. You can go and prepare to make the trip, for 
 our own safety dej^ends upon it. 
 
 Lord Arthur. Do you think it is necessary for me to go, too? My 
 health is very poor, you know, and this accursed malaria is all 
 through my system, and I might have a relapse, and, by Jove, that 
 might be very serious in its consequences, you know. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. Come, come ! I think it best for both of us to go, 
 so do not waste any time in getting ready for the journey. 
 
 Lord Arthur. My health is so poor, don't you think you could 
 get along without me? Oh, that malaria; il is awful! And they 
 might bring it out about the woman, and that would ruin my pros- 
 pects with Lady Ann, you know; and she is ver}' sweet on me just 
 now, and if I propose she will no doubt accept me, and you see this 
 is a critical lime. Don't you think you could get along without me 
 over there? , 
 
 Lord Dunrose. I admit it is very hard to take you away from so 
 charming a young lady, but I have thought the matter over and 
 think it best for you to go with me. There will be a great many 
 things to be attended to there, and you will have to go to assist me. 
 In such cases it will not do to trust anything to servants. Besides, 
 tiio value of my estates in Ireland depends on the blow we strike 
 now; for unless we make such things odious, we will never be able 
 to collect our rents at all, as they would kill all our agents who 
 undertook to enforce payment. We must prosecute this fellow above 
 any other for yonv safety. If he will kill a bailiff who only repre- 
 
liAKDLORD AND TENANT. 25 
 
 sents us, you may be sure he only wants an opportunity to take our 
 lives too. So go now and prepare for the voyage, as it will soon be 
 time for us to start. 
 
 Lord Arthur. "Well, if you thinli best, I will go; but fear that 
 awful malaria that is all through my system. (Enter Ladies Dun- 
 rose a?ifZ Cecilia.) This is awful news fi-om Ireland. I do not know 
 what is to become of us if this goes on much longer. There is no 
 telling where it will all end; and we go to Ireland. 
 
 Lady Dunrose. Yes, yes. And do not let your father show them 
 any mercy, but see to collecting all the rents. 
 
 Lady Cecilia. Just think how terrible to kill an officer of the law 
 in the discharge of his duty, and by a man who had been transported, 
 and whose sister had left a good home and service to run off with 
 some worthless fellow and disgrace herself It is a bad family, all 
 of them, and tliat man ought to be hanged. Hanging is too good 
 for him. With a knife to kill an officer who was simply doing his 
 duty. Ah, those tenants! I hate them all, and do not see that they 
 are good fir anything except to wrong people. The ungrateful 
 wretches ! When we furnish them everything they have, and then 
 they do not want to pay the rent. 
 
 Lady Dunrose. Look to it, Arthur, that they get justice done them, 
 and do not let one of them escape. That miserable girl ! No doubt 
 when she hears her brother is in trouble, she will be coming back 
 with that pretty face of hers to try and use it to defeat justice. But 
 you and your father must see to it, that it does no good. A woman 
 with a pretty face can sometimes do wonders with men, even men of 
 station. But you are going to prepare for your journej% and we will 
 not detain you any longer, so good-bye. 
 
 Lord Arthur. Good-bye, mother. I will try to remember all you 
 say, and do it. That is a very bad family, I know. Farewell, 
 Cecilia. 
 
 Lady Cecilia. Adieu! And do not forget to do all you can to 
 have the bailiff avenged. And if the girl turns up, just have her 
 sent to the work-house or some other place, for running away. I 
 know it was with some low fellow she ran away. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. Well, are you through ? If so, listen to me. Do 
 not indulge in any foolish extravagance while I am gone, and when 
 I get those affairs in Ireland arranged and return, I will have time 
 to consider things of less importance. 
 
 Lady Dunrose. What, call my daughter's settlement in life of less 
 
26 LAKDLOBD AND TENANT. 
 
 importance than a bailiflf and a few tenants, who, if they had their 
 just deserts, would all be hanged ! But we will not discuss the sub- 
 ject further; but hope you will remember your family requires 
 means to live upon, and the tenants must pay their rent, come what 
 will. 
 
 Lord Bunrose. Very good. But things are sometimes more easily 
 said than done. I must say good-bye, and when T return will hope 
 to find you well and happy. If it chance that I will be detained 
 there very long, I may send for you. And Cecilia, if my Lord Clar- 
 ence seems to desire it, you can invite him over to Dunrose Castle, 
 where there is capital hunting and fishing. 
 
 Lady Dunrose. You see that Dennis O'Brian gets his just dues, 
 and, if need be, we will come over too. Farewell ! 
 
 Lady Cecilia. I will certainly invite my Lord Clarence if you 
 send for us. Adieu! Adieu! 
 
 (E7id act III, scene 3.) 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene 1. — Room in Ireland. Enter Lobds Dunrose and Arthur, 
 and Collins. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. You see, Mr. Collins, this is a very aggravated 
 case, and we must secure a conviction at all hazards. You know 
 what our reasons are for wanting to get rid of this man. Our own 
 personal safety depends upon it. And you may rest assured that 
 you shall be well paid for your services; and no stone must be left 
 unturned, 
 
 Collins. But, my Lord, it will be difficult to secure a conviction 
 for murder, when the man supposed to have been killed still lives. 
 The defense may get wind of it, and then we could do nothing. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. Never fear, I will see that the attorney for the de- 
 fense shall be well cared for, and they have no way of connecting the 
 man in the hospital with the bailiff supposed to have been killed. 
 And long before he gets well, we can have the fellow tried, con- 
 victed and executed. Positively, sir, if an example is not made of 
 this fellow, my estates in Ireland will not be worth the owning. 
 Besides, our personal safety demands his execution; and I had 
 rather sacrifice the lives of half my tenantry than endanger our 
 own. 
 
LANDLORD AND TENANT. 27 
 
 Collins. Perfectly right, sir; perfectly right. And I shall do my 
 best, and God help him, for He alone can save him when we begin. 
 
 Lord Arthur. My life is in danger, and in the shattered condition 
 of my constitution, this sort of thing is not pleasant. The fellow, I 
 hear, swears vengeance against me on account of my little affair with 
 his sister, you know, when he ought to feel flattered, by Jove. The 
 malaria is affecting me, and I wish I could go back to England ; it 
 is far more agreeable. But if I must stay, will have to endure it, 
 you know. You think we can get rid of this fellow? It will be a 
 great relief; avoid scandal, you know. 
 
 Collins. Well, if you have no further instructions, I will go and 
 prepare for the case, as it is nearly time for the court to be opened. 
 We do not want any delays, and if we can exclude the old man's tes- 
 timony, as I think we can, there will be virtually no defense, unless 
 the man Tim Grady turns up in court. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. I do not see that they have anything else that 
 would mitigate the aggravation, if you can get the court to exclude 
 his evidence. As to Tim Grady appearing, there is no danger of his 
 being able to leave the hospital for some time to come. But we will 
 adjourn to the court. (Exit all.) 
 
 (End scene 1, act IV.) 
 
 Scene 2. — Court room in Ireland. Enter Judge, Officers, etc. 
 
 Collins. May it please the court : The cause now coming on to be 
 heard is the Crown vs. Dennis O'Brian, charged with the crime of 
 murder ; and for and in behalf of the Crown, I am here to announce 
 ready for trial. 
 
 Judge. What says the defendant, is he ready? 
 
 FUnnagan. The defendant is ready, your honor. 
 
 Collins. The defendant is charged in this indictment with the of- 
 fense of murder. 
 
 Judge. How does the defendant-plead to the charge — guilty or 
 not guilty ? 
 
 FUnnagan. Not guilty, and on this he is willing to put himself 
 upon the country. 
 
 Judge. Call the jury, and let them enter the box as called. 
 (Clerli calls jury, and they enter the hox.) 
 
 Judge. What says the Crown's attorney to the panel ? 
 
 Collins. The Crown will take the jury. 
 
28 LAKDLOBD AKD TE2S"Al!fT. 
 
 Judge. What says defendant ? 
 
 Flinnagan. The defendant is satisfied with the jury. 
 
 Judge. You will proceed to open your case, Mr. Crown Attorney. 
 
 Collins. May it please the court and gentlemen of the jury: This 
 defendant is charged in this indictment with the crime of murder, 
 and we expect to prove every material allegation set forth therein. 
 And we do not think it in the power of the defence to produce any 
 evidence that will be in contravention thereof. That Dennis O'Brian, 
 as is set out in this indictment, did unlawfully and with his malice 
 aforethought, willfully and maliciously assault and kill, with a 
 knife, one Tim Grady, an officer of tlie law, in the lawful discharge 
 of his official duties, on or about the 10th day of December, in the 
 
 year of our Lord, 18 — , in the county of , in Ireland, against 
 
 the peace and dignity of the Crown, we expect to prove conclusively. 
 And we will further prove that at that time he was an escaped con- 
 vict, having been sentenced to transportation, and his term was not 
 then, nor is it yet expired. All these facts we will plainly show to 
 the satisfaction of this court and this jury, and we do not think it is 
 in the power of this defendant to prove anything to the contrary. 
 We will call bailiff as first witness. (Bailiff., after being sicorn, 
 takes the stand.) 
 
 Collins. What is your occupation ? 
 
 Bailiff. I am second bailiff, sir. 
 
 Collins. Do you know the defendant in this case? If so, point 
 him out, and tell his name, if you know it. 
 
 Bailiff. Dennis O'Brian is his name, and that is the man. 
 (Pointing.) 
 
 Collins. Where were you, and what were you doing, on or about 
 December 10, 18—? 
 
 Bailiff. I was with Tim Grady, ejecting tenants on the Dunrose 
 estate. 
 
 Collins. State whether or not you saw this defendant there, and if 
 so, what took place when you saw him. 
 
 Bailiff. It was at old John O'Brian's, and while I stood outside, 
 Tim Grady went in to get the old woman out, and I saw this de- 
 fendant run at Tim Grady and catch him by the throat and stick a 
 knife into him, and Tim Grady fell down dead, sir, and the guards 
 and I ran into the house and took him prisoner; and while some car- 
 ried Tim Grady home to be buried, I took charge of the prisoner 
 and carried him to jail, sir. That is all I know about it, sir. 
 
LAN"DLOKD AND TEISTANT. 29 
 
 Collins. Do you know that Tim Grady was killed at that time ? 
 
 Bailiff. I do, sir. I saw him dead there, before my owq eyes. 
 
 Collins. Do j'ou kuow whether or not Tim Grady was aa officer 
 of the law? 
 
 Bailiff. Sure and I did ; for I was one myself, and was there with 
 him,, and he was doing his duty in ejecting tenants. 
 
 Collins. We are through witli this witness. 
 
 Flinnagan. I do not wish to cross-examine the witness. 
 
 Collins. I wish to introduce a record to show a former convic- 
 tion of this defendant for felony, and his sentence to transportation. 
 
 Flinnagan. We admit that fact, as it is a matter of record in this 
 court. 
 
 Collins. Then the prosecution will rest, as we have already proven 
 the material allegations set out in the indictment. 
 
 FUnnagan^ May it please the court and gentlemen of the jury: 
 We do not expect to prove that Dennis O'Brian did not make the 
 attack on Tim Brady, as testified to by the bailiff, but we do expect 
 to show sucli mitigating and exasperating circumstances as drove 
 him to make the attack; and for that purpose will introduce on the 
 witness stand the grandfather of the defendant, who will testify to 
 the harsh manner of the officer, and to a previous conversation 
 which had just taken place between the defendant and his grand- 
 mother, and liad so excited him that he was unable to control him- 
 self, and in the sudden heat of passion, did the deed for which he is 
 being tried. John O'Brian will take tlie stand and be sworn. (Take's 
 the stand and is sworn.) 
 
 Flinnagan. Xow, John O'Brian, please tell the court and jury 
 what the conversation was that had so aroused Dennis just before 
 the bailiff came to your house. 
 
 Collins. I object to the admission of any testimony touching 
 what occurred before tlie bailiff reached there, as it is irrelevant and 
 not a part of the res gestce. Nothing can be admitted but what is 
 directly bearing on the facts in the case, and nothing transpiring 
 prior or subsequent thereto can have any application whatever. 
 Therefore think your honor will exclude this evidence. 
 Judge. The objection is well taken. 
 
 Flinnagan. If the court adheres strictly to this ruling, the de- 
 fense has no further evidence to present, and will simply ask the 
 mercy of the court and the jury in behalf of the accused, and re- 
 luctantly announce that the defense has closed. 
 
30 LAKDLOED AND TENANT. 
 
 Collins. May it please the court and gentlemen of the jury : It is 
 only necessary to remind your honor of the law applicable in this 
 case, that you may instruct the jury as to their duty. The indict- 
 ment has been sustained by the evidence, and there is nothing further 
 to be done in behalf of the Crown, since there has been no defence 
 made. Gentlemen of the jury, it will hardly be worth the while to 
 call your attention to the facts, as the testimony is direct and posi- 
 tive, and entirely unincumbered with any conflicting evidence. 
 You will therefore have no trouble, under the instructions of the 
 court, in finding a verdict; and that can only be to find the defend- 
 ant guilty. It is a painful duty for a jury to render a verdict that 
 will result in the execution of a fellow being; but where a man so 
 far forgets himself as to take the life of another, and that, too, with- 
 out provocation and in cold blood, as is plainly shown to have been 
 done in this case, all sentimentalities must be laid aside, and let the 
 majesty of the law take its course. And to-day you will vindicate 
 the honor of the Crown, and discharge your duty as good citizens, 
 by rendering a verdict in accordance with the evidence that has been 
 presented before you. 
 
 Judge. Gentlemen of the jury: You have heard the evidence in 
 the case, and if you believe from the testimony that the defendant is 
 guilty, you will so find in your verdict. But if there is a reasonable 
 doubt in your minds as to the fact that the defendant did do the 
 killing, then in that case you will acquit the defendant. You can 
 select your own foreman, and he will take charge of the papers in 
 the case, and when you have arrived at your verdict, you will write 
 it down and the foreman will present it to the court in your pres- 
 ence. If you have already made up your minds, it will not be 
 necessary to leave the box; but if not, you can retire for further de- 
 liberation. (Jury consult in hox.) 
 
 Foreman. We have agreed on a verdict, and I have been selected 
 foreman to present it to your honor. ( Presents verdict. Court reads.) 
 
 Judge. " We, the jury, find the defendant guilty of murder as 
 charged in the indictment." The court will allow the defendant time 
 for such motions for new trial or to take the necessary steps for an ap- 
 peal, if he desires ; and if he does not wish to take advantage of these 
 rights, then the court, at the expiration of the time allowed by law, 
 will pass sentence on the prisoner in accordance with the law and 
 the verdict. The officer will take charge of the prisoner and be pre- 
 pared to produce him in court at the proper time. Court will have 
 recess. 
 
LA]S^DLORD AKD TENANT. 31 
 
 John 0' Brian. Oh, my son! my son! Is it possible that you have 
 been convicted, and I was not allowed to testify in your defense. 
 What will become of me! what will become of me! Oh, Dennis! 
 Oh, my son! Is it a dream, a terrible dream, or can all I have seen 
 be true ! 
 
 Dennis O'Brian. Dear grandfather, do not distress yourself about 
 me. It is not more than could be expected. Justice will never be 
 given a poor man in this country. And when he has offended the 
 rich, there is no law for his benefit; but he must be gotten out of the 
 way. Cheer up, cheer up ! You still have Bridget to look after you ; 
 and poor Lena, she may come back to you again. I am but another 
 victim to the oppression that is crushing the people of our poor un- 
 happy country. Soon the cup will overflow, and then— (Leading 
 him out.) 
 
 John O'Brian. My poor son ! my poor son ! I cannot live much 
 longer. This is too much ! This is too much ! 
 
 Lord Dimrose. Well, Arthur, I think we are nearly rid of him. 
 Collins, you managed well ; and if we can keep things dark for a 
 few days, it will be the end of him at least, and I will breathe easier. 
 
 Collins. Oh, yes, I think everything is in a flattering condition. 
 But you had better give Flinnagan employment that will take him 
 away for a few days, and I will move the court at the earliest time 
 possible to pass sentence upon him. Then it will all be over with 
 him, unless he has more influence to secure his pardon than I think 
 he can command. You had better look after Flinnagan, my Lord. 
 "A hint to the wise," you know. 
 
 Lord Diinrose. I shall do so at once. Arthur, send for your 
 mother and sister. We will celebrate our victory by making Dun- 
 rose Castle the scene of pleasure. (Exit all.) 
 
 (End scene 2, act L V.) 
 
 Scene 3. — Hospital. Enter Tim Grady and Bridget O'Brian. 
 
 Tim Grady. What is the matter, my good nurse ? You are very 
 downhearted to-day. What has gone wrong with you ? 
 
 Bridget O'Brian. Oh, you are a stranger, but I have had so much 
 trouble, and everything seems to have gone wrong with me and my 
 family. My poor brother ! He has beeu convicted of murder, and 
 will be sentenced to-day to be hung, and I want to go to the court to 
 see him once more. Oh, my poor brother ! They never give a poor 
 
32 LANDLORD AND TENANT. 
 
 man a chance for his life in this country, and we have no friends to 
 help us. 
 
 Tim Grady. My good woman, do not distress yourself. May be 
 something can yet be done for him. What is his name, and whom 
 did he kill ? 
 
 Bridget 0''Brian. My brother's name is Dennis O'Brian, and he 
 killed one of my Lord Dunrose's bailiffs. I do not know his name ; 
 but nothing can be done to help him, I know. It is too late. 
 
 Tim Orady, What, Dennis O'Brian ! Old John OBrian's grand- 
 son ! Has he been convicted ? 
 
 Bridget O^Brian. Indeed he has, and will get his sentence to-day. 
 
 Tim Grady. Is he your brother? You who have nursed me 
 into life again ? 
 
 Bridget 0''Brtan. He is my brother, my only brother. And Lord 
 Arthur took my sister off with him to America, and grandmother 
 had just been telling him about it when the bailiff got there, and his 
 patience was all gone. But he has a good heart, and had only come 
 back from Australia, where he had been transported. And to think 
 that just after he had reached home! Oh, my poor brother! I wisli 
 I could save you. What would I not give to save you. 
 
 Tim Grady. My dear good woman, I can and will save him. I 
 am the man he is charged with kiirtng, and it is an outrage on 
 humanity the way this prosecution has been conducted. And since 
 you have explained to me how it came about, I bear him no malice; 
 and for your sake, if nothing else, I will go to the court room, and 
 there prove to the court that your brotlier has been wrongfully con- 
 victed. And in the future, I for one will never persecute my own 
 people again. 
 
 Bridget O'Brian. Is what you say true? And can you really 
 save my brother's life ? I am so glad. 
 
 Tim Grady. Indeed it is true, and I will do it. But you will have 
 to assist me, as I am too weak to go by myself 
 
 Bridget O'Brian. Oh, I will do anything. You are now so thin 
 and light, I think I might even carry you there, if necessaiy to save 
 his life. And to think all this time I have been nursing you, and 
 never knew who you were ! But you came in while I was away. I 
 had gone to my grandmother's funeral. You know she died at that 
 time. 
 
 Tim Grady. What, did she die at that time? And I did not be- 
 lieve she was even sick. My own roughness killed her. And it was 
 
LAN"DLOED AJSTD TEKANT. 33 
 
 that caused your brother to attack me. I see it all. I was a brute 
 then, but am the more determined to deliver him. Ah ! this is a vile 
 conspiracy to take an innocent man's life, and I have been kept in 
 ignorance of all that has been taking place, so that their schemes to 
 take his life might not be interfered with. 
 
 Bridget O'Bricm. We have but little time to spare if we are to get 
 there in time to save his life, so we had better be oflf. Let me assist 
 you, and, with God's help, we will be in time. 
 
 Tim Orady. It is to save a man's life, and we must be there in 
 time. And may God and the Holy Mother help us! Such crimes as 
 these will make every Irishman a patriot, and such wrongs cry out 
 with flaming tongues to every man who has a soul, to rise up in the 
 defense of his country; and makes us realize that we have been 
 slaves. But this will not last much longer. When Irishmen are 
 once aroused — and such damnable outrages as this will soon awaken 
 them — nothing will check them; and they will sweep every vestige 
 of this despotism from the land. But let us go to prevent this mur- 
 der of your brother. God help us and him ! (Exit all) 
 
 (End scene 3, act IV.) 
 
 Scene 4. — Court-room in Ireland. Enter Lords and Ladies, Court, 
 Attorneys, etc. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. This is the scene of our triumph. To-day we will 
 have the victory complete, and it will establish the rights of land, 
 lords. 
 
 Lady Dunrose. It is time, I am sure, that those creatures had been 
 taught to know their places, and that they owe all they have to their 
 lords and masters. 
 
 Lady Gecilia. Will he soon be brought in ? I know he looks like 
 a monster. It will do me good to see him get his dues. 
 
 Collins. I did not think you so hard-hearted, my Lady, as to want 
 to see anybody executed. 
 
 Lady Cecilia. Oh, this is such a monster and a brute, and has 
 committed a murder, and has been transported, and belongs to a horrid 
 family. And besides, what difference does it make to such things as 
 they are, whether they live or die ? 
 
 Lord Dunrose. I say, Collins, everything works to our purpose, 
 does it? I acted on your suggestion about Flinnagan. 
 
 Collins. It could not have gone off better, and you will soon see 
 3 — L. & T. 
 
34 LANDLORD AKD TENANT. 
 
 the end of it, as the court will only allow him the accustomed op- 
 portunity to say why sentence should not be passed upon him ; and 
 if he fail at that time to show cause, he is past redemption. Ha! ha! 
 (Enter prisoner and guards. Others, following in the rear, enter.) 
 
 Lord Dunrose. See to everything, Collins, and be sure there are no 
 slips; for you see I have my family and friends here to witness our 
 triumph. Look sharp! 
 
 Lady Gecilia. Why, he is quite handsome looking. I wonder 
 what he will say. What are those other people doing here, they have 
 just arrived ? Oh, what a beautiful lady, dressed in black! 
 
 Lady Dunrose. Look, my Lords, can you tell me who the stran- 
 gers are, who have just come into court? Arthur, do you know who 
 the lady is? She is lovely looking, and the gentleman is hand- 
 some. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. I do not know who they are, but will inquire 
 after awhile. 
 
 Lady Cecilia. Do you know, Arthur ? (Lord Arthur recognizes 
 Lena.) 
 
 Lord Arthur. Ah, how should I know everybody? I am no di- 
 rectory. I am so afflicted with the malaria. They are looking over 
 here now. It is a piece of impudence. The malaria is very try- 
 ing on me. (Aside.) What is she doing here, and who is that man 
 with her? I feel as if it was all over with me now. It looks like 
 that American attorney. 
 
 Judge. Dennis O'Brian, have you aught to say why the sentence 
 of the law shall not be passed upon you? If so, you are at liberty 
 to state it. 
 
 Dennis 0^ Brian. That the trial at which I was convicted was a 
 farce, no one who knows the circumstances will hesitate to affirm. . 
 It is not that I fear the penalty of the law that I would wish to live, 
 but that there are those who need my protection from the wrongs 
 that have been and are being heaped upon them. But as I have not 
 even been allowed to introduce such evidence as I had at hand, it 
 gives me no choice. But while the law takes its course, Justice 
 stands aloof, and I die as I have lived, for the freedom of Ireland, 
 and am one more added to the list of martyrs who died for the liber- 
 ties of their people. 
 
 Brady. May it please the court: Before sentence is passed on 
 this prisoner, I wish to be heard in his behalf, as his counsel is not 
 here, it seems, and I have been employed by his friends to represent 
 him. 
 
LANDLORD AND TENANT. 35 
 
 Collins. I object to any one appearing for the prisoner as his 
 attorney, vdio, for aught we know, is not an attorney of this court; 
 and it is late in the day to be changing counsel. 
 
 Judge. Let the gentleman state who and what he is. 
 
 Brady. My name is Brady, and not unknown to your honor in 
 times long past, at Trinity College, Dublin, and I feel sure the court 
 will not require anything further from me at present than to say I 
 represent this man by legal employment. I have just arrived from 
 America, and have had no time to fortify myself with my papers. 
 
 Judge. You have permission of the court to proceed. 
 
 Brady. In the first place, Dennis O'Brian has been convicted of 
 murder, and the man murdered was Tim Grady. Come forward, 
 Tim Grady, and be identified. (Tim Grady takes the stand, pale and 
 weak.) State to the court who you are, and when you learned about 
 
 the trial. 
 
 Tim Orady. My name is Tim Grady, sir, and I am a bailiff, sir, 
 and have been in the hospital, and very bad off, sir. I only found 
 out about the trial to-day, sir, and with the assistance of my nurse, 
 who had saved my life, came down here to save an innocent man's 
 life. For it was my fault that he struck me as he did. And I am the 
 same Tim Grady that was at the O'Brian cottage and got stabbed for 
 serving a brute; and if ever I serve another lord against my own 
 people, may the devil fly away with me. 
 
 Judge. Is it possible that the prisoner has been convicted for kill- 
 ing a man who is still alive ? (To bailiff. ) Is this the man you tes- 
 tified had been killed, in your evidence in the trial of Dennis 
 O'Brian? 
 
 Second Bailiff. It is the very same, sir, and the dead has come to 
 life, to be sure ; for as sure as I live, I saw him killed at that time. 
 Lord Bunrose. What does all this mean ? and who is this offi- 
 cious person who has come here at this hour to interfere and defeat 
 all our plans ? 
 
 Collins. I never saw him before, but fear he has undone us, for 
 it appears he knows everything about the case. 
 
 Lord Arthur. I have the malaria all through me. What is to be- 
 come of us? That is that American attorney, and he will get us all 
 into trouble, no doubt. (Aside.) Oh, that w-oman, she will be the 
 death of me ! She has caused all my trouble, and he here with her. 
 Lady Bunrose. Is this fellow come here to interfere in our af- 
 fairs ? I would like to pull his nose, and if I were a man, would do 
 it for him. 
 
36 LANDLORD AKD TElfAKT. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. Arthur, he seems to have an under^tandiug with 
 your man. What, does Pat know him ? And will he hetray us and 
 our plans to that fellow ? If he does, we are undone. 
 
 Lord Arthur. If he has, I will discharge the fellow without char- 
 acter. But it would be my luck if he has done so. Oh, the ma- 
 laria! the malaria! it unfits me for anything. 
 
 Lady Cecilia. What are they waiting for ? I thought it would not 
 take long for the sentence, and the»n we were all to go on with the 
 hunting pai ty, and it will soon be too late to overtake them. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. This is no time for hunting parties. That fellow 
 is about to ruin us all with his accursed officiousness. 
 
 Brady. I think it is clear to the court that this man has been con- 
 victed of an offence he had never committed. And that there has 
 been a deep-laid conspiracy to take his life, I am prepared to prove, 
 by unimpeachable evidence; and can further unfold the reasons 
 that prompted this conspiracy. That such a scheme should have 
 ever been originated shows the rottenness of the sj^stem of govern- 
 ment under which it could have existed. It is such gross injustice 
 as has been practiced by this self-constituted tyrant that makes all 
 Ireland cry out for relief; and every such act but cements the people, 
 and moves them by a common inspiration to throw off the yoke of 
 tyranny that so mercilessly galls them. Can anj^ man who deserves 
 the name of man, listen to such wrongs and not have his very blood 
 boil within him? And do you expect the people, driven to desper- 
 ation by the perpetration of every conceivable wrong upon them, 
 to still bow patiently the suppliant knee ? Oh, no ! they do not know 
 Ireland or her people if they think so. But the case at bar is too 
 diabolical to be believed as occurring in this day of civilization in 
 any country. Conspiracy to take a man's life under the cloak of 
 justice ! And for what reason was it undertaken ? Because a guilty 
 conscience so haunted two men, bearing honorable names, for the 
 deepest wrongs heaped upon this poor family, that they knew did 
 they get justice at the hands of this young man they would pay the 
 penalty with their lives. And this is why they are here to-day, to 
 witness this poor man's sentence in the name of justice, that they 
 might rest at ease. But they have failed to carry their end, but have 
 done most valiant service for the freedom of Ireland. 
 
 Lord Arthur. Ah, that malaria! Confound that fellow! 
 
 Lord Dunrose. We are undone ! We are ruined ! 
 
 Judge. The prisoner will be discharged, as the clerk has re- 
 
LAKDLOED AND TENANT. 37 
 
 ceivecT a proclamation of pardon that had been issued prior to his 
 escape. Mr. Attorne}', can you substantiate the charges of conspir- 
 acy you have just made in this court? 
 
 Brady. May it please your honor, I would like to confer with 
 my Lords Dunrose and Arthur, before taking auy further steps in 
 this matter. 
 
 Judge. Permission is granted. 
 
 Dennis 0' Brian. Can it be that I am indeed free ! (Lena, Bkidg-et, 
 John O'Bkian and Tim Geady all surround Mm, Musing and shak- 
 ing hands.) Oh, this is too much joy! and when I had expected 
 to be sentenced ! Lena, my sister ! My sister ! (Embraces her.) It 
 was your wrongs that made me wild, and Bridget and grandfather, 
 how happy we all are. 
 
 Tim Grady. I forgive you, Dennis. God bless you! And we 
 will go hand in hand fighting for the freedom of L'eland. It has 
 made me see that my own people are slaves to a few lords, who use 
 us while they may, and kick us out to die, when of no further use 
 to them. 
 
 Dennis O^Brian. Thank you, Tim. I was sorry all the time 
 when I thought I had killed you. But as now I know I have not 
 the life blood of one of my countrymen upon me, I rejoice in your 
 forgiveness, and thank you kindl3\ For it was you and that sweet 
 lawyer — God bless him — who have saved my life. 
 
 Brady. My Lords, it is useless to bandy words. I have the proof 
 to convict you, and you know you are guilty. I also know and 
 have proof of your marriage. Lord Arthur, with Lena O'Brian; and 
 it has been all proven up. And as you have an hefr, you had better 
 recognize her as your wife and present her to your family. The 
 bogus' marriage, as you thought, is legal and binding. So you had 
 better accept the situation. 
 
 Lord Arthur. What shall I do ! It cannot be so ! It is some 
 scheme you have devised to force me to take her as my wife, and 
 have brought her here from America for that purpose. I tell you I 
 never married her. 
 
 Brady. Not so fast. I have the proofs with me, and the wit- 
 nesses are here. So do not deny the fact, my Lord Dunrose. I will 
 expect you to make suitable provision for the poor people you have 
 so deeply wronged, now related to your family through the mar- 
 riage of your son. 
 
 Lord Dunrose. I will never accede to your demands. 
 
38 LAlfDLOED AIlfD TEN"A]S"T. 
 
 Lord Arthur. Nor will I. That malaria! It's all through me. 
 
 Brady. Take your choice, gentlemen — prison or my terras. For 
 when once I leave you, there will be tlie cause of Ireland on one 
 side, and two worthless Lords on the other ; and it would not he 
 hard to prophesy the result. So make your choice, and at once. 
 
 Lord Arthur. Let him have his way, father ; he is a fearful fellow. 
 And this malaria! I cannot stand scenes. 
 
 Lord Bunrose. Well, he seems to have us in his power. 
 
 Brady. JVly Lady, go to your husband and be presented to your 
 husband's family. (Lena goes to Akthub.) May it please the 
 court, everything has been amicably arranged, and I ask leave to 
 withdraw my charges for the present. 
 
 Lady Bunrose. What do I see ! What does this mean ! We are 
 disgraced ! It is too much ! too much ! Take me away. 
 
 Brady. Pat McTiernan, I must inform you that your investments 
 in American mines have made you a millionaire, and it will not be 
 necessary for you to serve my Lord any longer, as he has a true- 
 hearted Irishwoman to take care of him. 
 
 Pat McTiernan. Good news again ! Well ! well ! I am rich and 
 so are all my friends, but some are not satisfied with the situation. 
 
 To laugh at first may end in tears; 
 And those may laugh who start with fears. 
 But woe will end when grief is past — 
 The better part's to laugh at last. 
 
 (End act I V.J 
 
vm:. 
 
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