se
regions.

"Now for this same map, Mr. Kennyfeck, and let us bear the question for
which this Privy Council has been convened."

"This is the map," said Mr. Kennyfeck, unfolding a large scroll, "and
I believe a single glance will enable Mr. Cashel to perceive that some
little deliberation would be advisable before continuing in possession
a tenant whose holding completely destroys the best feature of the
demesne. This red line here is your boundary towards the Limerick road;
here, stands the house, which, from the first, was a great mistake. It
is built in a hollow without a particle of view; whereas, had it
been placed here, where this cross is marked, the prospect would
have extended over the whole of Scariff Bay, and by the west, down to
Killaloe."

"Well, what's to prevent our building it there yet?" interrupted Cashel.
"I think it would be rare fun building a house,--at least if I may
judge from all the amusement I've had in constructing one of leaves and
buffalo-hides, in the prairies."

Mrs. Kennyfeck and her eldest daughter smiled their blandest
approbation, while Olivia murmured in her sister's ear, "Oh, dear, he is
so very natural, isn't he?"

"That will be a point for ulterior consideration," said Mr. Kennyfeck,
who saw the danger of at all wandering from the topic in hand. "Give me
your attention now for one moment, Mr. Cashel. Another inconvenience
in the situation of the present house is, that it stands scarcely a
thousand yards from this red-and-yellow line here."

"Well, what is that?" inquired Cashel, who already began to feel
interested in the localities.

"This--and pray observe it well, sir--this red-and-yellow line,
enclosing a tract which borders on the Shannon, and runs, as you may
remark, into the very heart of the demesne, this is Tubberbeg, the
farm in question,--not only encroaching upon your limits, but actually
cutting you off from the river,--at least, your access is limited to a
very circuitous road, and which opens upon a very shallow part of the
stream."

"And who or what is this tenant?" asked Cashel.

"His name is Corrigan, a gentleman by birth, but of a very limited
fortune; he is now an old man, upwards of seventy, I understand."

"And how came it that he ever obtained possession of a tract so
circumstanced, marring, as you most justly observe, the whole character
of the demesne?"

"That would be a long story, sir; enough, if I mention that his
ancestors were the an