ot in any danger. But you had better speak to your
mother about it. For myself, I think I may say that I have never yet
behaved to any of you with any harshness. A son should, at any rate,
not be offended because a father thinks that he is entitled to some
consideration for what he does."

"There are some points on which a son cannot give way even to his
father, sir."

"You had better speak to your mother, Henry. She will explain to you
what has taken place. Look at that plantation. You don't remember it,
but every tree there was planted since you were born. I bought that
farm from old Mr. Thorne, when he was purchasing St Ewold's Downs, and
it was the first bit of land I ever had of my own."

"That is not in Plumstead, I think?"

"No: this is Plumstead, where we stand, but that's in Eiderdown. The
parishes run in and out here. I never bought any other land as cheap
as I bought that."

"And did old Thorne make a good purchase at St Ewold's?"

"Yes, I fancy he did. It gave him the whole of the parish, which was
a great thing. It is astonishing how land has risen in value since
that, and yet rents are not so very much higher. They who buy land
now can't have above two-and-a-half for their money."

"I wonder people are so fond of land," said the major.

"It is a comfortable feeling to know that you stand on your own
ground. Land is about the only thing that can't fly away. And then,
you see, land gives so much more than the rent. It gives position and
influence and political power, to say nothing about the game. We'll
go back now. I daresay your mother will be at home by this time."

The archdeacon was striving to teach a great lesson to his son when
he thus spoke of the pleasure which a man feels when he stands upon
his own ground. He was bidding his son to understand how great was
the position of an heir to a landed property, and how small the
position of a man depending on what Dr. Grantly himself would have
called a scratch income,--an income made up of a few odds and ends,
a share or two in this company and a share or two in that, a slight
venture in foreign stocks, a small mortgage and such-like convenient
but uninfluential driblets. A man, no doubt, may live at Pau on
driblets; may pay his way and drink his bottle of cheap wine, and
enjoy life after a fashion while reading _Galignani_ and looking at
the mountains. But,--as it seemed to the archdeacon,--when there was
a choice between this kind of thing, a