t across the old man's mind; and turning to
Owen he said in Irish: "He wants to get the mountain for sporting over;
but I'll not lave it."

The gentleman repeated his question.

"Troth, no then, yer honor; we've lived here so long we'll just stay our
time in it."

"But the rent is heavy, you say."

"Well, we'll pay it, plaze God."

"And I'm sure it's a strange wild place in winter."

"Its wholesome, any how," was the short reply.

"I believe I must go back again as wise as I came," muttered the
gentleman. "Come, my good old man,--and you, Owen; I want to know how
I can best serve you, for what you've done for me: it was my son you
rescued in the fair--"

"Are you the landlord--is yer honor Mr. Leslie?" exclaimed both as they
rose from their seats, as horrified as if they had taken such a liberty
before Royalty.

"Yes, Owen; and I grieve to say, that I should cause so much surprise to
any tenant, at seeing me. I ought to be better known on my property;
and I hope to become so: but it grows late, and I must reach the valley
before night. Tell me, are you really attached to this farm, or have I
any other, out of lease at this time, you like better?"

"I would not leave the ould spot, with yer honor's permission, to get a
demesne and a brick house; nor Owen neither."

"Well, then, be it so; I can only say, if you ever change your mind,
you'll find me both ready and willing to serve you; meanwhile you must
pay no more rent, here."

"No more rent!"

"Not a farthing; I'm sorry the favour is so slight a one, for indeed the
mountain seems a bleak and profitless tract."

"There is not its equal for mutton--"

"I'm glad of it, Owen; and it only remains for me to make the shepherd
something more comfortable;--well, take this; and when I next come up
here, which I intend to do, to fish the lake, I hope to find you in a
better house;" and he pressed a pocket-book into the old man's hand as
he said this, and left the cabin: while both Owen and his father
were barely able to mutter a blessing upon him, so overwhelming and
unexpected was the whole occurrence.

[Illustration: 060]

SECOND ERA

From no man's life, perhaps, is hope more rigidly excluded than from
that of the Irish peasant of a poor district. The shipwrecked mariner
upon his raft, the convict in his cell, the lingering sufferer on a sick
hed, may hope; but he must not.

Daily labour, barely sufficient to produce the commonest necessaries