himself, while the pencil of the filial illustrator has rendered him
immortal in this primitive costume. In his speech he 'abused them
heartily and soundly.' Yet they cheered him vociferously, and then
carried him into the castle, where he could get nothing to cover his
nakedness but a countryman's frieze coat. It was when he had been
cheered vociferously, and kindly carried in, that Mr. Shirley's
architect appeared on the scene. Mr. Trench has not been just to that
gentleman, for he really came to his rescue, and perhaps saved his
life, by giving the people the only sensible advice they got that day.
In his sworn statement, made twenty-five years ago, Mr. Trench said:
'Mr. Shirley's architect then appeared, and by promising to speak
to Mr. Shirley in their favour, and by requesting them to send a
deputation, instead of coming in a manner like the present, _he
induced them to desist from further injury to me._'

If we had contemporary accounts of all the other romantic scenes which
have fascinated so many readers, the 'Realities' would lose much
of their gilding. Indeed, in most cases the internal evidence is
sufficient to convince us that the sensationalist has been laying on
his colours pretty heavily. In the sketch of the Farney rent campaign,
however, I am willing to accept Mr. Trench as a faithful historian. It
is a most suggestive narrative, because it shows what mischief could
be done by driving the agricultural population to desperation. A
general strike against the payment of rent would convulse society.
If the war which raged in Farney had spread all over the island, the
landlords would be in serious difficulty. The British army might then
have become rent collectors, as they had been tithe collectors in
1831.'

Mr. Shirley resolved, after much deliberation, to enforce his legal