affections must be fixed upon something, and we generally
find that where children are denied, the world comes in and hardens by
its influence the best and tenderest sympathies of humanity.

After a journey of two miles they came out on a hay-track, that skirted
an extensive and level sweep of meadow, along which they proceeded
with as much speed as a pillionless midwife was capable of bearing.
At length, on a gentle declivity facing the south, they espied in the
distance the low, long, whitewashed farm-house of Fardorougha Donovan.
There was little of artificial ornament about the place, but much of the
rough, heart-stirring wildness of nature, as it appeared in a strong,
vigorous district, well cultivated, but without being tamed down by
those finer and more graceful touches, which nowadays mark the skilful
hand of the scientific agriculturist.

To the left waved a beautiful hazel glen, which gradually softened away
into the meadows above mentioned. Up behind the house stood an ancient
plantation of whitethorn, which, during the month of May, diffused its
fragrance, its beauty, and its melody, over the whole farm. The plain
garden was hedged round by the graceful poplar, whilst here and there
were studded over the fields either single trees or small groups of
mountain ash, a tree still more beautiful than the former. The small
dells about the farm were closely covered with blackthorn and holly,
with an occasional oak shooting up from some little cliff, and towering
sturdily over its lowly companions. Here grew a thick interwoven mass of
dog-tree, and upon a wild hedgerow, leaning like a beautiful wife upon
a rugged husband, might be seen, supported by clumps of blackthorn, that
most fragrant and exquisite of creepers, the delicious honeysuckle. Add
to this the neat appearance of the farm itself, with its meadows and
cornfields waving to the soft sunny breeze of summer, and the reader
may admit, that without possessing any striking features of pictorial
effect, it would, nevertheless, be difficult to find an uplying farm
upon which the eye could rest with greater satisfaction.

Ere arriving at the house they were met by Fardorougha himself, a small
man, with dark, but well-set features, which being at no time very
placid, appeared now to be absolutely gloomy, yet marked by strong and
profound, anxiety.

"Thank God!" he exclaimed on meeting them; "is this Mary Moan?"

"It is--it is!" she exclaimed; "how are all wit