ols of _their_ natures, they had read _his_ from end to end. They
scanned him with powers of observation no other people in Europe can
compete with; and while _he_ was philosophizing about the combined
influence of their superstitions, their ignorance, and their apathy
to suffering, _they_ were accurately speculating on all the possible
benefits which might accrue from the residence amongst them, of so very
kind-hearted, but such a _mere_ simpleton of a man as himself.

They listened with sincere pleasure--for they love any appeal to
themselves--to the precepts he so liberally bestowed regarding
"industry" and "frugality;" nor did they ever make the reply, which
was ready at every lip, that industry cannot be practised without
an occupation, nor frugality be pushed beyond the very borders of
starvation. No; they answered with a semblance of concurrence,--"True
for you, sir; the devil a lie in it--your honour knows it well."
Or, when pushed home by any argument against their improvidence, or
recklessness, the ever-present reply was--"Sure, sir, it's the will of
God;" a piece of fatalism, that rescued them from many a difficulty,
when no other aid was near.

"They are a simple set of people," said Sir Marmaduke, as he sat at his
breakfast; in the small parlour of the lodge, which looked out upon the
glen, "Very ignorant, very barbarous, but easily led--I see through them
clearly."

"I like them greatly," said his daughter; "their gratitude knows no
bounds for the slightest services; they have a kind of native courtesy,
so rare to find amongst a peasantry? how that poor fellow last night
wished to climb the cliff, where the eagle's nest is, because I
foolishly said I had never seen a young eagle."

"They are totally misunderstood," said Sir Marmaduke, sententiously,
rather following out the train of his own reflections, than noticing the
remark of his daughter, "all one hears of their absurd reverence for the
priest, or the devoted adherence they practise towards the old families
of the country, is mere nonsense, You heard how Dan laughed this
morning, when I joked with him about purgatory and the saints; and
what a droll description they gave of that queer household--the
chieftain--what is his name?

"The O'Donoghue."

"Yes; I never can remember it. No, no; they are not so bigoted; they
are merely uninformed. We shall soon see many changes among them. I
have written to Bradston about the plans for the cottages, and