tends to do?"

"Yes! he is at a respectable boarding-school."

"Boordin'-school! But isn't boordin'-schools Protestants, sir?"

"Not at all; he is at a Catholic boarding-school, and reading hard to be
a priest, which, I hope, he will soon be. He has good friends, and you
may thank him for being restored to your farm."

"Glory be to my Maker for that! Oh, sir, your tenants wor desaved in
you! They thought, sir, that you wor a hard-hearted gintleman, that
didn't care whether they lived or died."

"I feel that I neglected them too long, M'Evoy. Now take some
refreshment: eat something, and afterwards drink a few glasses of wine.
Your feelings have been much excited, and you will be the better for it.
Keep up your spirits. I am going to ride, and must leave you: but if you
call on me to-morrow, at one o'clock, I shall have more good news
for you. We must stock your farm, and enable you to enter upon it
creditably."

"Sir," said M'Evoy, "you are a Protestant; but, as I hope to enther
glory, I an' my wife an' childhre will pray that your bed may be made in
heaven, this night; and that your honor may be led to see the truth an'
the right coorse."

The Colonel then left him; and the simple man, on looking at the cold
meat, bread, and wine before him, raised his hands and eyes towards
heaven, to thank God for his goodness, and to invoke a blessing upon his
noble and munificent benefactor.

But how shall we describe the feelings of his family, when, after
returning home, he related the occurrences of that day. The severe and
pressing exigencies under which they labored had prevented his sons
from attending the investigation that was to take place in town. Their
expectations, however, were raised, and they looked out with intense
anxiety for the return of their father.

At length he was seen coming slowly up the hill; the spades were thrown
aside, and the whole family assembled to hear "what was done."

The father entered in silence, sat down, and after wiping his brow and
laying down his hat, placing his staff across it upon the floor, he drew
his breath deeply.

"Dominick," said the wife, "what news? What was done?"

"Vara," replied Dominick, "do you remimber the day--fair and handsome
you wor then--when I first kissed your lips, as my own darlin' wife?"

"Ah, avourneen, Dominick, don't spake of them times. The happiness we
had then is long gone, acushla, in one sense."

"It's before me like yestherday, Vara--th