ociated with me. It may
be that I shall have to touch upon matters peculiar to the part of the
country in which I was born and reared, and to which I am proud to
belong. As far as I can I will make them clear; but even concerning
these I will make no great promises.

To begin at the beginning then, for I must do this to make everything
clear, and I desire above everything to make matters plain. My father,
Jasper Pennington, died when I was nineteen, leaving me as I thought
Elmwater Barton, a farm of about three hundred acres. I am called Jasper
too; indeed, for generations back there has always been a Jasper
Pennington. Elmwater Barton is by no means a bad farm. Nearly all the
land is under cultivation, and the house is roomy and substantial. You
must not imagine, however, that the Barton is the principal place in the
parish of St. Eve. Far from it. The parish contains twelve thousand
acres, and is, on the whole, the richest parish in Cornwall, and so
three hundred acres do not count much. Up to the time of my father
living at Elmwater Barton the place had always been held by a family of
yeomen by the name of Quethiock, respectable people, of course, but not
regarded as gentry. No, the principal house in St. Eve is Pennington,
which, when my father died, was owned by Richard Tresidder. My father
was born at Pennington, and my grandfather and great-grandfather were
born there; indeed, the estate, which is a very valuable one, has been
owned by the Penningtons for many generations.

The question, therefore, naturally arises, How did a Tresidder get into
the possession of the estate which has always belonged to the
Penningtons? It is well to explain this because evil tongues have told
lies concerning it.

My father's mother died soon after his birth, when my grandfather was a
comparatively young man; and when my father was about five years old,
his father called him into the library one day, and told him that it was
his intention to give him a mother.

"A mother?" said my father, "you told me my mother was dead."

"Yes, she is," said my grandfather, "and is in heaven if ever it is
possible for a woman to get there; that is why I want to give you
another, Jasper, one who will take care of you better than I can."

"Will she be kind to me?" asked my father.

"That she will," was the reply; "but more than that, she will bring you
a brother, who is about your own age, and he will be a playfellow for
you."

My father w