yonder side of the paling,
sir. A great bleak expanse, with stunted trees and a tasteless mansion,
full of, I take it, very dubious company; but perhaps you are one of
them?"

"I confess as much," said Roland, laughing; "but as I have not seen
them, don't be afraid I 'll take up the cudgels for my associates."

"Labor lost if you did," said the other, bluntly. "I only know of them
what the newspapers tell us; but their names are enough."

"Are they all in the same category, then?" asked Cashel, smiling.

"Pigeons or hawks; dupes or swindlers,--an ugly alternative to choose
from."

"You are candid, certainly, friend," said Cashel, half angrily; "but
don't you fancy there is rather too much of frankness in saying this to
one who has already said he is of the party?"

"Just as he likes to take it," said the old man, bluntly. "The wise man
takes warning where the fool takes umbrage. There 's a fine view
for you--see! there's a glorious bit of landscape," cried he,
enthusiastically, as they came to an opening of the wood and beheld the
wide expanse of Lough Deny, with its dotted islands and ruined tower.

Roland stood still, silently gazing on the scene, whose beauty was
heightened by all the strong effect of light and shade.

"I see you have an eye for landscape," said the old man, as he watched
the expression of Cashel's features.

"I 've been a lover of scenery in lands where the pursuit was well
rewarded," said Roland, thoughtfully.

"That you may; but never in a country where the contemplation called for
more thought than in this before you. See, yonder, where the lazy smoke
rises heavily from the mountain side, high up there amid the fern and
the tall heath, that is a human dwelling,--there lives some cottier a
life of poverty as uncheered and unpitied as though he made no part of
the great family of man. For miles and miles of that dreary mountain
some small speck may be traced where men live and grow old and die out,
unthought of and uncared for by all beside. This misery would seem at
its full, if now and then seasons of sickness did not show how fever and
ague can augment the sad calamities of daily life. There are men--ay,
and old men too--who never have seen bread for years, I say, save when
some gamekeeper has broken it to feed the greyhounds in a coursing
party."

"And whose the fault of all this?" said Cashel, eagerly.

"It is easy to see, sir," said the other, "that you are no landed
proprieto