g the two or three successive days, he went among his
old "cronies;" and no sooner was his arrival at any particular house
intimated, than the neighbors all flocked to him. Scythes were left
idle, spades were stuck in the earth, and work neglected for the time
being; all crowded about him with a warm and friendly interest, not
proceeding from idle curiosity, but from affection and respect for the
man.

The interview between him and widow Murray's children was affecting.
Owen felt deeply the delicate and touching manner in which they had
evinced their gratitude for the services he had rendered them; and young
Murray remembered with a strong gush of feeling, the distresses under
which they lay when Owen had assisted them. Their circumstances, owing
to the strenuous exertions of the widow's eldest son, soon afterwards
improved; and, in accordance with the sentiments of hearts naturally
grateful, they had taken that method of testifying what they felt.
Indeed, so well had Owen's unparalleled affection for his favorite child
been known, that it was the general opinion about Tubber Derg that her
death had broken his heart.

"Poor Owen, he's dead," they used to say; "the death of his weeny one,
while he was away in Dublin, gave him the finishin' blow. It broke his
heart."

Before the week was expired, Owen had the satisfaction of depositing the
lease of his new farm, held at a moderate rent, in the hands of Frank
Farrel; who, tying it up along with his own, secured it in the
"black chest." Nothing remained now but to return home forthwith, and
communicate the intelligence to Kathleen. Frank had promised, as soon as
the Lacy's should vacate the house, to come with a long train of cars,
and a number of his neighbors, in order to transfer Owen's family and
furniture to his new dwelling. Everything therefore, had been arranged;
and Owen had nothing to do but hold himself in readiness for the welcome
arrival of Frank and his friends.

Owen, however, had no sense of enjoyment when not participated in by his
beloved Kathleen. If he felt sorrow, it was less as a personal feeling
than as a calamity to her.

If he experienced happiness, it was doubly sweet to him as reflected
from his' Kathleen. All this was mutual between them. Kathleen loved
Owen precisely as he loved Kathleen. Nor let our readers suppose that
such characters are not in humble life. It is in humble life, where
the Springs of feeling are not corrupted by dissimul