“I’ll tell you what, Harry, I think you have it in your power among you to punish these rogues; and I think, too, it’s a pity that Fethertonge should escape.  A breath will dislodge him, you say; but for fear it should not, we will give him a breeze.”

“I am to meet Vanston at Chevydale’s by-and-by, uncle.  There’s to be an investigation there; and by the way, allow me to bring Hycy’s anonymous letter with me—­it may serve an honest man and help to punish a rogue.  What if you would come down with me, and give him the breeze?”

“Well,” replied the uncle, “for the novelty of the thing I don’t care if I do.  I like, after all, to see a rogue punished, especially when he is not prepared for it.”

After a little delay they repaired to Chevydale’s house, armed with Hycy’s anonymous letter to Clinton, as well as with the document which the old squire, as he was called, had left for Thomas M’Mahon and his son.  They found the two gentlemen on much better terms than one would have expected; but, in reality, the state of the country was such as forced them to open their eyes not merely to the folly of harboring mere political resentments or senseless party prejudices against each other, but to the absolute necessity that existed for looking closely into the state of their property, and the deplorable condition to which, if they did not take judicious and decisive steps, it must eventually be reduced.  They now began to discover a fact which they ought, long since, to have known—­viz.:—­that the condition of the people and that of their property was one and the same—­perfectly identical in all things; and that a poor tenantry never yet existed upon a thriving or independent estate, or one that was beneficial to the landlord.

Vanston had been with his late opponent for some time before the arrival of Clinton and his nephew; and, as their conversation may not, perhaps, be without some interest to our readers, we shall detail a portion of it.

“So,” says Vanston, “you are beginning to feel that there is something wrong on your property, and that your agent is not doing you justice?”

“I have reason to suspect,” replied Chevydale, “that he is neither more nor less than feathering his own nest at the expense of myself and my tenantry.  I cannot understand why he is so anxious to get the M’Mahons off the estate; a family unquestionably of great honesty, truth, and integrity, and who, I believe, have been on the property before it came into our possession at all.  I feel—­excuse me, Vanston, for the admission, but upon my honor it is truth—­I feel, I say, that, in the matter of the election—­that is, so far as M’Mahon was concerned, he—­my agent—­made a cat’s paw of me.  He prevented me from supporting young M’Mahon’s memorial; he—­he—­prejudiced me against the family in several ways, and now, that I am acquainted with the circumstances of strong and just indignation against me under which M’Mahon voted, I can’t at all blame him.  I would have done the same thing myself.”