try was interesting
to him; but since he had forbidden himself to think of a union with
Miss Nugent, his mind had lost its object and its spring; he was
not sufficiently calm to think of the public good; his thoughts were
absorbed by his private concern. He knew, and repeated to himself,
that he ought to visit his own and his father's estates, and to see the
condition of his tenantry; he desired to fulfil his duties, but they
ceased to appear to him easy and pleasurable, for hope and love no
longer brightened his prospects.

That he might see and hear more than he could as heir-apparent to
the estate, he sent his servant to Dublin to wait for him there. He
travelled INCOGNITO, wrapped himself in a shabby greatcoat, and took the
name of Evans. He arrived at a village, or, as it was called, a town,
which bore the name of Colambre. He was agreeably surprised by the air
of neat--ness and finish in the houses and in the street, which had
a nicely-swept paved footway. He slept at a small but excellent
inn--excellent, perhaps, because it was small, and proportioned to
the situation and business of the place. Good supper, good bed, good
attendance; nothing out of repair; no things pressed into services
for what they were never intended by nature or art; none of what are
vulgarly called MAKE-SHIFTS. No chambermaid slipshod, or waiter smelling
of whisky; but all tight and right, and everybody doing their own
business, and doing it as if it was their everyday occupation, not as
if it was done by particular desire, for first or last time this season.
The landlord came in at supper to inquire whether anything was wanted.
Lord Colambre took this opportunity of entering into conversation
with him, and asked him to whom the town belonged, and who were the
proprietors of the neighbouring estates.

'The town belongs to an absentee lord--one Lord Clonbrony, who lives
always beyond the seas, in London; and never seen the town since it was
a town, to call a town.'

'And does the land in the neighbourhood belong to this Lord Clonbrony?'

'It does, sir; he's a great proprietor, but knows nothing of his
property, nor of us. Never set foot among us, to my knowledge, since I
was as high as the table. He might as well be a West India planter, and
we negroes, for anything he knows to the contrary--has no more care, nor
thought about us, than if he were in Jamaica, or the other world. Shame
for him!--But there's too many to keep him in countena