“May every guinea, shilling, tester, and penny he looks upon, from this day forth for evermore, be a blight to his eyes, and a canker to his heart! But I can’t wish him a worse canker than what he has there already. Yes, he has a canker at heart! Is not he eaten up with envy? as all who look at him may read in that evil eye. Bad luck to the hour when it fixed on the mill of Rosanna!” “But what has he done to the mill? Take it patiently, and tell us quietly,” said farmer Gray, “and do not curse the man any more.” “Not curse the man! Take it quietly, master! Is it the time to take it quietly, when he is at the present minute carrying off every drop of water from our mill-course? so he is the villain!” At these words, Stafford seized his oak stick, and sprang towards the door. Robin and John eagerly followed: but, as they passed their father, he laid a hand on each, and called to Stafford to stop. At his respected voice they all paused. “My children,” said he, “what are you going to do? No violence. No violence. You shall have justice, boys, depend upon it; we will not let ourselves be oppressed. If Mr. Hopkins were ten times as great, and twenty times as tyrannical as he is, we shall have justice; the law will reach him: but we must take care and do nothing in anger. Therefore, I charge you, let me speak to him, and do you keep your tempers whatever passes. May be, all this is only a mistake: perhaps Mr. Hopkins is only making drains for his own meadow; or, may be, is going to flood it, and does not know, till we tell him, that he is emptying our water-course.” “He can’t but know it! He can’t but know it! He’s’ cute enough, and too ‘cute,” muttered Paddy, as he led the way to the mill. Stafford and the two brothers followed their father respectfully; admiring his moderation, and resolving to imitate it if they possibly could. Mr. Hopkins was stationed cautiously on the boundary of his own land. “There he is, mounted on the back of the ditch, enjoying the mischief all he can!” cried Paddy. “And hark! He is whistling, whilst our stream is running away from us. May I never cross myself again, if I would not, rather than the best shirt ever I had to my back, push him into the mud, as he deserves, this very minute! And, if it wasn’t for my master here, it’s what I’d do, before I drew breath again.” Farmer Gray restrained Paddy’s indignation with some difficulty; and advancing calmly towards Mr. Hopkins, he remonstrated with him in a mild tone. “Surely, Mr. Hopkins,” said he, “you cannot mean to do us such an injury as to stop our mill?”