I was very foolish at that time, for I tried to reduce my weight, which has not varied four pounds in forty years, in order to ride in some races. I had ridden a good hunter in the Tweezledown[99] steeplechases soon after I returned from Ireland, but the horse was hopelessly outclassed, and in July I rode four races in succession one day, on a diet of a limited number of biscuits, for which folly I suffered considerably; for a fortnight later, after being very wet on parade, I got fever, and early in August fainted three times one morning in my office. I went to London and saw doctors, who prescribed perfect rest, and as my brother-in-law had decided to appoint another Agent, I went over to his estate in Ireland, hoping that the change of air might improve my health. I was still weak when I got to Clones, where I wished to see a tenant who had not paid his rent for eleven years. The annual sum was trifling, under two pounds, but the example set by the man was bad on an estate which had arrears of over £11,000 on a rental of £8000. My brother-in-law’s London solicitor was coming over to go through the estate accounts with me, and the day before he arrived, taking a car, I went out to see the recalcitrant tenant. I was uncertain of my reception, so, although the day was fine, I wore an overcoat, in the pocket of which I carried a big revolver. The driver pulled up alongside a punt, in which I was ferried over to the island on which McElnea lived, in a little cabin, and on entering I saw a fine tall man, nearly seventy years of age. He did not offer me a seat, but there were three stools, and I sat down on one, remarking, “You do not offer me a seat, but I am not well, and so sit down.” “Who the divil are ye? Are ye the landlord?” “No, but I am his brother-in-law, and very like him.” “Well, is it about the rint that ye have come?” “It is.” “Sorra a penny will I pay! Divil a man is there in Oirland to make me.” And as he spoke in came two fine specimens of humanity, over six feet in height. I looked at them, and putting my hand into my pocket, said to McElnea, “Well, I am going back into Clones, and you can pack up.” “Pack, is it? and why would I pack?” “Because when I get into Clones I shall issue a process against you, and you will be out in a week.” Changing from his defiant to a cringing tone, he said, “Why, yer honour will not be turning me out of the ould place; I am a very ould man, and I have always lived here.” I replied, “We do not want you here, and I will give you your crop and £5 to go away.” “I would much sooner stop, may I?” “If you pay a year and a half’s rent to-morrow, and a year and a half every year until you are clear, you can remain.” He paid, and on the next gale[100] day, saying he could not be bothered with accounts, paid up all arrears, and gave no further trouble.