Landlord and tenant ...

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LANDLORD AND TENANT.

AN HUSH DRAMA,

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 aure this is my 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 want to see him 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, Fat, 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 see him to night, my constitution is so racked. Oh, the malaria! Tell him that, Pat, but not about the woman and the gambling; but about hunting and fishing, and how expensive it all is — that is a good fellow. (Lord Arthur enters another room.)

Pat McTiernan. 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 Dunrose, and make my Lord Arthur have reason to say, I have malaria all through me. (Enter Lord Dunrose.)

Lord Dunrose. Well, Pat, where is your master; he is here, I suppose? I want to see him. Tell him so.

Pat McTiernan. Your Lordship, he is here; but on account of being knocked up from tlie 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?

Pat McTiernan. I did, your Lordship.

Lord Dunrose. 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 deceive your 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 ?

Pot 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 IS ew York. (Aside.) But in good hands, that will not stop with her long, if my name is Pat McTiernan, and can judge.

Lord Dunrose. 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 n\j 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 follows 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 questions 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 buffalo on the Staked Plains, hooked trout in the Rocky Mountains, killed bear in the Yellowstone 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 they dig it out of the mountains, it goes easy; and for my master to live as the rest of the fine young men out there, it cost him a good bit of money. Ah! your Lordship, 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 his hand iu his pocket for his money to win some of it. Everybody is trying his best to win that pile of money. Ah, you never saw the likes of it. And away out West, where } r ou 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 lhat game, I will warrant. Pat McTieman. 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 McTieman. I do, your Lordship, and will deliver your message. (Aaide.) And little he'll want to come, to be sure. (Exit Lord Dunrose. Enter 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 McTieman. 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 morning; and did he say what he wanted to see me about?

Pat McTieman. 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 McTieman. Yes, my master; he asked me about her also, and if you brought her back with you. Bat 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 Dunrose'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 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 understand. 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 her loose, too, where she can get her living by tying to the first man who has money and will take her as his mistress. Bat 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 happy 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 sure 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 you; and one pays so clearly for all he gets. I have brought a few trifles as souvenirs of the exploits I had while there, but they are not worth mentioning, I assure you; only valuable from association.

Lord Dwirose. 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 ?

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 Dunrose. 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 time 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 high 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 the boys play it, by Jove it is good. Thousands 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 f 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.

Lord 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 blackguard; he could help me out of it, I know. (Aloud.) Oh, not by any means, I assure you. Only played a little for amusement, but saw how U was from observation, you know; by Jove I did. (Aside.) I feel the malaria coming on.

Lord Dunrose. 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 off 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 they 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 tenants are giving us all the trouble they can, and every mail brings news of some additional complaints from some of them. I have so far refrained from proceeding to extremities, but we must live, ourselves, 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.

Lady Dunrose. Tes, we must refurnish our house this season, and I must have suitable apparel to appear in, wherever I go.

Lady Cecilia. 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.)

" Tour 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 season, but they yet hope to meet their arrears. But there are some who will never be able to pay, old John O'Brian among the number, 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 eannot 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 Cecilia. And that I will have to do without my new dresses, and will have to stay at home this season.

Lord Dunrose. Tes, yes ; but it would not be so bad if it had not been for Arthur's extravagance. Just think of spending five thousand pounds, and for nothing! At that rate he would consume the best estates in all the land.

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 Dunrose. 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 Dunrose. So it was to get rid of this strange affliction, 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 miserable, ungrateful wretches who want to ruin us. I would have Macguire 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.

Lady Cecilia. I quite agree with mother. There is no other way to do justice to ourselves but to get rid of all no-account, 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.

Lord Dunrose. Well, well, I suppose that is the best that can be 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 Dunrose. Poor fellow, poor fellow, he is so afflicted.

Lady Cecilia. Oh, it is too bad that he should suffer so much.

Lord Dunrose. I will send the orders to-day, 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. — CBrian 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 C Brian. John, do not cry out against Providence, but be thankful it is no worse. We still have this place to live in.

John C Brian. Yes, yes; but when I remember that my own forefathers 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 0' 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 still call home. Cheer up, my good man. We have indeed suffered much oppression in the loss of our two grandchildren, but they will yet come back to us, to cheer our old age, aud 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 aDy money for you. God help us! God help us ! J

Tim Grady. My Lord Dunrose 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 Grady. It is true, Mrs. O'Brian, and here is the written notice. 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 misfortune 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.

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 2. — 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 the 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 again, 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 disturb 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.)