quiring as to all the available means of locomotion, and
by what convenience he is to make various sea and land excursions."

"We have no carriage,--we have no roads, even," said Glencore,
peevishly.

"He knows all that; but he is concerting measures about a certain
turf-kish, I think they call it, which, by the aid of pillows to lie
on, and donkeys to drag, can be made a most useful vehicle; while, for
longer excursions, he has suggested a 'conveniency' of wheels and axles
to the punt, rendering it equally eligible on land or water. Then he
has been designing great improvements in horticulture, and giving orders
about a rake, a spade, and a hoe for himself. I 'm quite serious," said
Harcourt, as Glencore smiled with a kind of droll incredulity. "It is
perfectly true; and as he hears that the messenger occasionally crosses
the lough to the post, when there are no letters there, he hints at a
little simple telegraph for Leenane, which should announce what the mail
contains, and which might be made useful to convey other intelligence.
In fact, all _my_ changes here will be as for nothing to _his_ reforms,
and between us you 'll not know your own house again, if you even be
able to live in it."

"You have already done much to make it more habitable, Harcourt," said
Glencore, feelingly; "and if I had not the grace to thank you for it,
I 'm not the less grateful. To say truth, my old friend, I half doubted
whether it was an act of friendship to attach me ever so lightly to a
life of which I am well weary. Ceasing as I have done for years back to
feel interest in anything, I dread whatever may again recall me to the
world of hopes and fears,--that agitated sea of passion wherein I have
no longer vigor to contend. To speak to me, then, of plans to carry
out, schemes to accomplish, was to point to a future of activity and
exertion; and!"--here he dropped his voice to a deep and mournful
tone--"can have but one future,--the dark and dreary one before the
grave!"

Harcourt was too deeply impressed by the solemnity of these words to
venture on a reply, and he sat silently contemplating the sorrow-struck
but placid features of the sick man.

"There is nothing to prevent a man struggling, and successfully too,
against mere adverse fortune," continued Glencore. "I feel at times
that if I had been suddenly reduced to actual beggary,--left without
a shilling in the world,--there are many ways in which I could eke out
subsistence.