L 1 B R_ A R Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVERSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 
 ^
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/granvillesirisht01talb
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 I^M irislj Ml 
 
 BY 
 
 THE HOK THOMAS TALBOT. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 EeutJou : 
 SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON, 
 
 CROWN BUILDINGS, 183, FLEET STREET. 
 
 18S2. 
 [All rights reserved.']
 
 LONEON : 
 
 PEIKTED BY GILBERT AND EIVINGTON, LIMITED, 
 
 ST. JOHN'S SQUAEE.
 
 
 CONTEXTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Tillage of Balltdi>'e .... 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Hebbeet GBAyyiLLE — OUB Heeo . . .11 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The Captain at Home 28 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Daijce, and Xellt Coekoea^''s Deeam . 40 
 
 y 
 
 v: CHAPTER Y. 
 
 ^ The Gba^jvilles — Heebebt lost in Specela- 
 
 S- TION ^7 
 
 <^ 
 
 ^^ CHAPTER VI. 
 
 .;' The Captain's Accoent of his Adtentuees 
 
 ^ IN FOBEIGN PaBTS 109
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Dik^er-Party at Brookfield Hall — 
 
 Various Opinions on Current Events . 149 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 A Grate Consdltation — Female Diplomacy 205 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 A Walk in the Glens— The Pledge . . 246 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A Suspicious Visit— The Captain studies 
 
 the Clouds 286
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 TO LADY LOYEDALE. 
 
 Dear Lady Lovedale, 
 
 I haye the honour to dedicate this 
 Work to you. As the granddaughter of 
 Herbert Granville— the central figure in 
 the drama unfolded in its pages — it will, I 
 have no doubt, afford you a peculiar in- 
 terest ; not only from the fact of its 
 recalling to your mind some of the tradi- 
 tions connected with the history of your 
 family, but also from the more important 
 fact of its presenting to your view some of 
 the virtuous and noble characteristics by 
 which that family has ever been distin- 
 guished. 
 
 If high and honourable bearing, pure 
 and disinterested patriotism, and an un-
 
 VI DEDICATION. 
 
 swerving adhesion to tliose principles of 
 justice and of liberty, wliicli constitute 
 tlie true foundation of social stability and 
 national greatness, can confer an enviable 
 distinction upon their possessors, as they 
 assuredly must ; then may you justly feel 
 proud of the noble and illustrious source 
 whence your origin is derived. 
 
 You will bear with me while I say thus 
 much of your ancestors : and believe me 
 when I assure you that I have not been 
 led to these observations by the unworthy 
 desire of enhancing the value of my 
 Work by setting forth the hereditary 
 virtues of those who constitute its prin- 
 cipal characters. A Work of this sort 
 must stand upon its own inherent merits : 
 if its characters are true to life, and its 
 scenes are the faithful reflex of Nature ; 
 if it fulfils the conditions essential to 
 success, in the unity and fidelity of the 
 portraiture it exhibits, and in the propriety 
 and wisdom of the teachings it incul- 
 cates — if it does this, it is all that a just 
 and reasonable criticism can demand. 
 There are, no doubt, degrees of merit in
 
 DEDICATIOX. Vll 
 
 the nature of tlie subjects of works like 
 this, as well as in tke treatment of sucli 
 subjects ; there are also greater or lesser 
 interests involved in them : but whatever 
 may be the subjects, and whatever their 
 interests, as long as they are treated with 
 a faithful adhesion to Nature and to the 
 exigencies of character, and are attended 
 with the inculcation of moral jorinciple and 
 virtuous conduct, they must be entitled to 
 the favourable consideration of impartial 
 judges. This is all that may fairly be ex- 
 pected on my part ; and hence you will 
 perceive that I can have no object in intro- 
 ducing the history of your family here, 
 beyond the gratification which I am 
 afforded in the contemplation of high 
 virtue and illustrious deeds. 
 
 I am aware that the principal events 
 narrated throughout the following pages 
 are already familiar to you through the 
 traditions of your family : you are also 
 acquainted with the varied scenery con- 
 nected with those events, for you have 
 been born and bred in the midst of it, and 
 still enjoy its changeless charms. You will
 
 Vm DEDICATION. 
 
 therefore be able to judge wlietlier or not 
 I have been true to those traditions, on 
 the one hand, and have transferred to 
 mj canvas a faithful dehneation of the 
 main features of that scenery, on the 
 other. 
 
 The minor characters of the drama you 
 may not, perhaps, be able so easily to de- 
 tect ; yet they are true to their originals ; 
 and their descendants, as well as those of 
 the principal characters, are still living and 
 moving amid the scenes of their ancestors. 
 Their real names, as well as the real names 
 of the places where the several incidents of 
 the drama took place, are of course dis- 
 guised. I say, of course, because it would 
 not be consistent with right feeling to un- 
 veil to the public gaze the errors, and de- 
 linquencies, and crimes of those who have 
 passed away, but whose descendants still 
 survive, and exhibit in their lives traits and 
 characteristics entirely different from those 
 of their progenitors, and such as entitle 
 them to the respect and esteem of all who 
 know them. 
 
 But my main purpose in gathering up
 
 DEDICATION. IX 
 
 tlie threads of those traditions, and shaping 
 them into the form in which I now present 
 them, isj as you are aware, to impress upon 
 my countrymen and yours the folly and 
 wickedness of those political organizations 
 which from time to time have exhibited 
 themselves in the history of our country. 
 No matter by what various names they 
 may have been known, whether as Peep- 
 o'-Day Boys, or Rockites, or Whitefeet, or 
 Fenians, or any other whimsical or fanciful 
 appellation, the attendant concomitants 
 and ultimate results of each and every one 
 of them have been the same — sin and 
 shame, and defeat and oppression. Com- 
 mencing in folly, and operating by crime, 
 they are sure ever to terminate in blood- 
 shed, misery, and ruin. 
 
 The events which I have recorded in 
 these pages in connexion svith the White- 
 feet Organization of half a century ago find 
 their exact reflex in the similar organiza- 
 tions of to-day. Change but the names, 
 and the same story may be told of them 
 all. The motives, the incitements, the 
 catastrophies are all the same. The
 
 X DEDICATION. 
 
 peasantry, as I have sliown, are incited to 
 acts of violence and depredation by some 
 idle, reckless, and designing knaves among 
 their own order, with the view of plunder 
 and revengfe. These ag:ain are encourao^ed 
 and stimulated by malicious and self- 
 interested knaves of a higher class, whose 
 chief aim is the gratification of some 
 passion, whether of jealousy, or revenge, 
 or avarice, or ambition ; and who keep 
 themselves aloof from active participation 
 in the crimes of their dupes, in order to 
 escape detection and the punishment that 
 is sure to follow. 
 
 The political and social condition of 
 Ireland, or of any country, cannot be 
 improved by such reckless, powerless, 
 and absurd organizations as those : on 
 the contrary, the evils, whatever they 
 might be, which are intended to be 
 remedied by such means, become only the 
 greater, the more intensified. Nothing 
 can possibly result from them — nothing 
 has ever resulted from them but disorder 
 and ruin. The poor, misguided peasantry 
 are shot down, or imprisoned, or driven
 
 DEDICATION. XI 
 
 from their homes ; while the country, 
 which they foolishly fancied they were 
 serving, sinks into a worse condition than 
 she had occupied before. This always is, 
 and always must be, the consequence of 
 such ill-advised, senseless, and wicked 
 enterprises. 
 
 Such are the views which I have en- 
 deavoured to enforce, though on a limited 
 arena, in the course of this Work. I have 
 pointed out the nature, mode of operation, 
 and final result of those illegal and mis- 
 chievous organizations ; and also the per- 
 sonal and social evils which follow in their 
 train. In order to relieve a narrative so 
 gloomy and repulsive, I have accompanied 
 it with episodes of love and courtship ; and 
 interspersed the whole with scenes in which 
 humour and drollery are the prevailing 
 elements. 
 
 I trust that the brief account which I 
 have thus given of the nature and contents 
 of the Work will add to the pleasure which 
 I know you will feel in its perusal. 
 
 I have only further to say that I shall 
 avail myself of this dedication to serve a
 
 XU DEDICATION. 
 
 triple purpose, namely, tliat of a Dedication, 
 an Introduction, and a Preface. 
 
 Witli sentiments of high regard 
 I remain, 
 dear Lady Lovedale, 
 Your most obedient and most 
 faithful servant, 
 
 The Authoii.
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE VILLAGE OF BALLYDINE. 
 
 TowAEDS the eastern extremity of a large 
 and luxuriant valle}^, situated in one of the 
 southern counties of Ireland, reposes in 
 graceful outline the beautiful village of 
 Ballvdine. It consists of two small rows 
 of houses bordering a public highway. 
 Beyond these is an irregular and broken 
 line of farm-houses ; flanked here and there 
 with neat and cosy cottages, whose white- 
 washed walls and trim little gardens, em- 
 bellished with flowers and rose bushes, 
 betray a degree of comfort not always to 
 be found in and around the dwellings of 
 the labouring classes of that country. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE GKANVILLES. 
 
 The farm-lionses, unlike many others 
 to be found in different parts of the coun- 
 try, are not huddled together in confused 
 masses, obstructing the free operations of 
 the occupiers in their daily agricultural 
 labours; but lying asunder, and at con- 
 siderable distances, affording freer scope 
 and accommodation for the various require- 
 ments incidental to rural occupations. 
 
 Each farmstead lies enclosed within its 
 own little domain, unmolested by the 
 encroachments arising from an over- 
 dose contiguity with its neighbours. 
 Propriety, accommodation, and comfort 
 are the predominant features that attract 
 the attention of the stranger as he casts 
 his eye over each homestead and its sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 The central structure, or farm-house, 
 with its neatly thatched roof and ele- 
 vated gables, and its white-washed walls 
 breathing the refreshing fragrance of the 
 hop and the honey- suckle, rendered still 
 more grateful by the suggestion of neatness 
 and order reigning within ; the out offices 
 flanking the dwelling house towards the
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 3 
 
 rear, and admirably adapted to the various 
 purposes for wliicli tliey are designed, 
 Trlietlier for dairy, stable, car-house, fowl- 
 house, cattle shed, or other object suited to 
 the necessities of a well-reo^ulated farm- 
 yard ; the neat grassy plot before the front 
 door, edged with the lilac and the box-tree, 
 the rose-bush, and the hollyhock, and sepa- 
 rated from the sheep paddock by a low 
 whitewashed wall, or, in some cases, a 
 railed or trellised fence painted green, and 
 overshaded here and there by the lime and 
 balsam tree ; the corn-fields and meadows 
 spread out in form of squares and paral- 
 lelograms on every side ; the carefully 
 trimmed hedges, topped with the yellow- 
 flowering furze, separating the several 
 fields ; the iron gates, flanked with round 
 or square piers that shone in sparkling 
 whiteness from the distance, opening from 
 the public road towards the farm-house, 
 or from one field to another ; all this varied 
 aspect of industry, economy, and taste 
 could not fail to create in the beholder 
 sensations of the most aoTeeable character. 
 The public road or thoroughfare, broad 
 B 2
 
 4 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 and smootli, and hemmed in on either side 
 by stout hedges of earth and stone, clothed 
 in part with a coat of moss or long wild 
 grass, and decked here and there with 
 patches of trailing ivy, traversed the whole 
 extent of the village at the time of which 
 we write. It led off towards a neighbour- 
 ing town some three or four miles distant ; 
 while here and there it threw off branch 
 roads at different points, leading to other 
 villages. 
 
 Rows of old trees — ash, oak, and elm — 
 lined this main road not only within the 
 limits of the village but also for miles 
 beyond ; forming an agreeable shade, 
 which in summer relieved the hot rays of 
 the sun, and in winter broke the rushing 
 fury of the gale, or relieved the rudeness 
 of the pelting hail. 
 
 Towards the north and east, and in the 
 immediate vicinity of the village the land 
 sloped gradually upwards until it termi- 
 nated in a rather lofty range of hills, broken 
 in outline, but beautiful in aspect, on 
 account of the varied forms they present, 
 and the lines and patches of plantation
 
 THE GRANVILLES. O 
 
 which cover their declivities, and crown 
 their summits. 
 
 From these hills the spectator might 
 obtain some of the most delightful, not to 
 say entrancing views that could be pre- 
 sented to the eye. Let the reader stand 
 by our side on one of these hills in the 
 middle of summer, when our story com- 
 mences, and with us survey the surround- 
 ing scene. 
 
 At a little distance beneath us lies the 
 village, smiling and beautiful in its repose ; 
 the corn fields are waving in their golden 
 luxuriance along the slopes ; the pastures 
 are thickly dotted with sheep and horned 
 cattle; and the meadows are enlivened 
 with rows of mowers plying their scythes 
 in harmonious sweeps. Up from this 
 scene of loveliness and cheerful labour 
 come softly and soothingly on the air the 
 varied sounds of gay and active life; the 
 laugh, the command, the ringing cheer, and 
 the shout of exuberant spirits, mingled with 
 the low of the cattle, the murmur of the 
 mountain streams, and the fitful gushing 
 music of the songsters of the grove.
 
 b THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 But outside tliis circle of busy and jovous 
 life, and spreading out into the distance, 
 lies an expanse of country upon wliicli tbe 
 eye loves to repose. It presents features 
 of enchanting beauty ; undulating plains, 
 dark slumbering groves, wooded parks, 
 sloping lawns, ponds, streams, and water- 
 falls, with here and there on every side 
 stately mansions, and smiling cottages, 
 meet and charm the sight wherever it rests. 
 Through the midst of this glorious land- 
 scape winds a river, on whose bosom float 
 numerous small craft bearing the produce 
 of the surrounding country to the quays 
 and stores of a town lying on the extreme 
 verge of the valley. The river, at its 
 entrance to this town, is crossed by a 
 bridge, beneath whose capacious arches 
 glide the smaller craft ; while the larger 
 vessels, with their sails swelling to the 
 breeze, are admitted through the open 
 space temporarily formed by the elevation 
 of a portion of the floor or drawbridge. 
 Beyond this bridge, and along the 
 southern margin of the river lies the town 
 of Cushport.
 
 THE GEAXVILLES. ;7 
 
 Its quay, or street bordering on tlie 
 river, runs in an almost unbroken line by 
 the water's edge to the distance of nearly 
 two miles, with sailing craft of every size 
 and form, from the punt and pleasure yacht 
 to the majestic barque and the frowning 
 frigate, lining its entire length. 
 
 From the point of elevation where we 
 now stand, and from which the landscape 
 we have been describing lies open to the 
 view, that is, the portion of the landscape 
 which embraces the valley with its winding 
 river, and the mountain amphitheatre 
 beyond, may be seen the cloudlike vapour 
 that hangs over the town abovenamed, 
 thouo'h the town itself lies hidden in the 
 distance. At the other extreme point of 
 the valley, that is, towards the west and 
 the source of the river, lies the town of 
 Melnook, whose position in the distance 
 may also be observed by the wreaths of 
 vapour which hang above it. These two 
 towns then may be said to form the two 
 extremities of this enchanting valley of the 
 Orma ; lying from each other at a distance 
 of between thirty and forty miles, and
 
 g THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 connected by fclie chain of tlie winding 
 Orma, as the river is called. Nearly mid- 
 way between the two towns and on the 
 banks of the river, lies another, of less 
 pretensions in point of size and commercial 
 activity, but fully equal, if not indeed 
 superior to either of them in beauty of 
 situation and elegance of surrounding, as 
 well as in all the characteristics of 
 prosperity and comfort. 
 
 This town, called Corrigcastle from the 
 circumstance of its being the site of a 
 stronghold, or castle, built on a rock by 
 the margin of the river by one of the feudal 
 lords of the soil in time gone by, jDresents 
 a lovely view from the position we are 
 occupying on the rising ground above the 
 village of Bally dine. Unlike the other two 
 towns at the opposite extremities of the 
 Yale of Orma, which can only be seen in 
 their festoons of vapour, the town of Cor- 
 rigcastle offers its unclouded features to 
 the view. The river flows in graceful 
 undulations along its entire length, reflect- 
 ing on its silvery bosom the old ruined 
 castle, the waving willow grove, the
 
 THE GR ANTILLES. \) 
 
 graceful cottage, and tlie variegated 
 •scenery, that decks its banks as it paces 
 onward in its conrse. 
 
 Besides these three towns we have 
 named, as constituting the prominent 
 features in the landscape before us, the 
 Yale of Orma is studded with villages and 
 hamlets, of greater or lesser extent, 
 throughout its whole expanse. These give 
 a fulness of vitality to the scene, without 
 which inanimate Nature, no matter how 
 beautiful and luxuriant in her general 
 aspect, would lack more than half her 
 grace, and fail in communicating to the 
 observer of her charms that idea of the 
 wisdom and goodness and munificence of 
 Him who has done so much for man. 
 
 Such then is the scene in which the 
 humble drama which I desire to present to 
 the reader has taken place. It is a scene 
 where nothing unworthy, nothing unbe- 
 coming the divinity which breathes upon 
 and around it, should ever have been 
 thought, or felt, or acted. It is a scene 
 which whispers peace and happiness, and 
 love ; where charity would seem to breathe
 
 10 THE GBA^VILLES. 
 
 her sweetest blessings ; and Hope to sMne 
 out with a radiance pure, bright, and holy. 
 But alas ! alas ! Sin and Sorrow find their 
 way to every scene.
 
 THE GEA^'yILLES. 11 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 HEEBERT GEANVILLE OUR HEEO. 
 
 The Tillage of Ballydine is all astir with 
 the operations of the season, which is that 
 of harvest time. Men, women, and children 
 are busily and jovouslv engaged in their 
 several occupations of reaping, binding, 
 and gleaning; and the song and the 
 gossip, the laugh and the jeer, keep pace 
 with the progress of their labour, and give 
 buoyancy to their spirits. 
 
 We shall pass into one of those corn- 
 fields on the verge of the village, and a 
 short distance from the main road, which 
 winds down from the .elevated station, 
 whence we were viewing^ the scene in the 
 preceding chapter ; and shall mix among 
 the group who are plying their labour 
 there ; and listen for awhile to the gossip 
 that is o-oino' around.
 
 12 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 The reapers — some ten in number — 
 have reached the headland, and are dis- 
 posing themselves, here and there, for a 
 short rest before again resuming their 
 labour. Some, with flint and steel and 
 tinder-box, are striking fire to light their 
 pipes; some are reclining against the 
 hedge in careless conversation, and some 
 are bandying jokes with the women who 
 are just binding the last sheaves of the 
 swarths ; but there are two who are 
 seated on the ground, and half resting on 
 their elbows, in earnest conversation on 
 some apparently interesting topic. 
 
 One of them is a man of a rather re- 
 markable appearance and address, when 
 taken in connexion with the occupation in 
 which he is now engaged. His dress, 
 though shabby and patched, is not that 
 of a field labourer, and his manner of 
 speech is not that of a man whose life had 
 been passed among the class of men with 
 whom he is now associated. 
 
 Instead of knee-breeches or corduroy 
 trousers — the usual dress of rural labourers 
 — he wears trousers of li^'ht blue cloth,
 
 THE GRAXYILLES. 13 
 
 with a broad red stripe running along tlie 
 entire leno^tli of each les^ on the outside. 
 This is patched in several places with pieces 
 of brown, grey, and scarlet cloth ; and the 
 legs are turned up two or three inches at 
 the ends, revealing a portion of white 
 cotton hose, seamed with black and purple 
 thread, which no doubt had been used for 
 the purpose of stopping up the fractures 
 that age and use had made in the original 
 web. His feet are covered with low" shoes 
 or pumps, scarcely reaching to the instep, 
 and tied with red tape in the shape of a 
 bow-knot; they are broken at the tops, 
 and his toes protrude a little from one 
 of them. His hair is of an iron-grey 
 colour, but thick and bushy, and rolled in 
 fantastic masses above his ears. His bead- 
 dress, or gear, as he was wont to call it, 
 presents the strangest anomaly of all ; and 
 stamps him as a man somewhat eccentric 
 in his habits, and independent of the 
 conventional usages of ordinary rural life. 
 It is of glazed leather, polished, and shining 
 like a mirror ; and in shape and structure 
 like a beehive, save that it has a broad
 
 14 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 rim, and flat top. The whole surface of 
 this hat is covered with arithmetical figures 
 made with chalk, and disposed in lines, 
 squares, and parallelograms, according to 
 the nature and extent of the calculations 
 they were intended to represent. This 
 completes his costume, with the exception 
 that his shirt, which is of striped calico or 
 cotton, is fastened at the neck with a 
 broad green ribbon, the ends of which hang 
 down some distance on his breast. His 
 companion is a man of the ordinary stamp of 
 rural labourers, short, stout, and muscular, 
 and evidently of a quick and vigorous 
 intelligence, and is now in the act of 
 brandishing his arm, as he exclaims, — 
 
 " No, Jack ; I tell you what — it 'ud be 
 betther for a man to be a galley shlave all 
 his born days than to be in the power of 
 those shoneens av blazes that haven't a 
 heart for God or man. Where's the use 
 intalkin', man? If you wur an angel from 
 heaven — and you're not — you couldn't 
 stand their grinding and parsecution ; — 
 and what for do they trample on the poor 
 people this way ? Was the counthry made
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 15 
 
 for themi Was ice made for themf Is 
 there a God above us ? I ask you that ? " 
 
 Here the speaker flung himself at full 
 length on the ground, turning his face up- 
 wards to the skj, and folding his arms 
 across his chest ; then closing his eyes, he 
 seemed to have fallen into a sudden fit of 
 the most imperturbable repose. 
 
 The man thus addressed as " Jack," 
 raising his hand quietly to his head, lifted 
 up the glazed hat, and with a slow, semi- 
 circular motion, brought it in a right line 
 with his eye ; and there poising it for a 
 moment, he laid it on the ground by his 
 side. He then, with a meditative movement 
 of his head, looked upwards to the blue 
 vault of heaven, and again slowly dropped 
 his eyes until they settled upon the crown 
 of the hat, when he muttered in broken 
 accents, — 
 
 " There's a reason for everything under 
 the heavens, and above the heavens — blow 
 me if there be'nt. Well," he continued, 
 "if Squire Croker ejected poor Eyan, he 
 had his reason for it, I s'pose ; and if so, he 
 was right. Eeason must be our landmark
 
 16 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 in our voyage along this here coast, as 
 well as elsewlieres ; I never known it to 
 fail in foul or fair -.weather; blow me if I 
 did. And so I always said when I was 
 talking to my worthy and noble friend, 
 old Squire Granville, may Grod receive him 
 in glory ! a noble soul with all his slips, 
 and slides, and follies. But he is'gone." 
 
 "Oh," drawled his companion, as he 
 opened his eyes, and looked into vacancy, 
 *'the Granvilles are a different kind of 
 people entirely — 'tisn't one day them- 
 selves and the Crokers ought to be com- 
 pared. The Crokers were always nothing 
 but shoneens of the devil — ^that's what I 
 say. Jack Gorman — and you know it as 
 well as any man in the country." 
 
 Saying this he rose from his recumbent 
 position, and was proceeding to his work, 
 when looking around in the direction of 
 the narrow byway that led to the field, he 
 exclaimed, "There goes Master Herbert ; — 
 poor fellow ! — maybe he is goin' to have a 
 little poetry with his colleen^ Miss Fanny 
 — a darlin' crature she is." 
 
 Saying this he w^alked away, followed
 
 THE GEAXVILLES. 17 
 
 by the other labourers, and resumed his 
 work. Jack Gorman, for such was the 
 name of him of the glazed hat, rose at the 
 same time, and taking his reaping-hook he 
 handed it to one of the women, saying, — • 
 
 '' I must tack for an hour or two, ISTelly 
 take this and put it away safe till I heave 
 round ao-ain." 
 
 He then stepped on lightly to the head- 
 land, and taking a loose, grey, broken coat 
 which lay at the bottom of the hedge, he 
 flung it oyer his shoulders, and advanced 
 to meet Herbert Granville, the young 
 person alluded to. As the two met, they 
 turned short into an opening that led by 
 a circuitous route towards the rear of the 
 farm-house, which stood a little above the 
 cornfield, where the reapers were employed. 
 Having arrived at a thick, low shrubbery 
 which shaded the house towards the north, 
 they sat down upon a green hillock, over- 
 shadowed by a tall sycamore, and com- 
 menced to converse. But before retailing 
 the burden of their conversation, we shall 
 introduce our young hero to the reader. 
 
 Herbert Granville was a young man of 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 18 THE GRAKVILLES. 
 
 about eighteen years of age, tall, liand- 
 some, and graceful. His lower limbs were 
 straight, and elegantly shaped, and ex- 
 hibited as he walked that species of 
 elasticity or springiness which gives indi- 
 cation of a proud and lofty spirit. His 
 complexion was fair, and might, per- 
 haps, be deemed delicate, if it had not 
 been for the light which radiated his 
 countenance as he cast his eyes around, 
 and gave expression to his sentiments 
 or feelings as he passed along. His 
 cheeks, which were round and full, had 
 a roseate freshness, which appeared to 
 be heightened by recent exercises, and 
 glistened in the light of a pair of dark 
 brown eyes — eyes, too, which shone with 
 that openness and lustre which indicate 
 generosity and candour. His nose was 
 of the Celtic caste, straight and hand- 
 some, with a very slight touch of an 
 upward inclination at its top ; his mouth 
 was full and expressive; and his lips, 
 when raised in the excitement of conver- 
 sation, revealed two rows of teeth, even 
 and smooth like circles of ivory. His dress
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 19 
 
 presented nothing to distinguish him, it 
 was that usually worn at that season of the 
 year by young men of his class, which was 
 that usually denominated *' country gen- 
 tlemen," though in his case the ordinary 
 pretentious flash and cutaway style was 
 set aside for one more grave and graceful, 
 for he wore a black cloth frock-coat over a 
 dark striped vest, and light grey pantaloons. 
 
 He carried a book under his arm, which 
 from its size and binding appeared to be 
 a copy of an edition of one of the poets, 
 which bad at that time been recently 
 issued from the press. Such then were the 
 figure and appearance of our hero as he 
 walked side by side with our eccentric 
 acquaintance. Jack Gorman; and seating 
 himself on the green sward beneath the 
 shade, entered into conversation with that 
 worthy. 
 
 ''Well," observed Gorman, "have you 
 looked straight at what I've been sayin' 
 to you ? or are your optics still unclarified, 
 and lost in the mist of speculation ? It is 
 time for you to fix on the point of the 
 compass that you are to sail by, and to 
 c 2
 
 20 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 remain no longer shivering your sails in 
 tlie eye of the wind. Time and tide, you 
 must know, wait for no one ; and again, 
 hesitation is the thief of time, and the 
 mother of disappointment. There are men 
 in the world who never do anything, but 
 are ever and always waiting to do it. 
 Time swings merrily by ; the crops come 
 and go ; the seasons change ; the world 
 goes round, and they are never a league 
 forward in the voyage of life. I've met 
 many such in my circumnavigation of life, 
 and blow me, if they didn't put me in mind 
 of frozen crocodiles, a sweltering in the 
 heat of summer, and shrunk and stiff, cold 
 and dreary in the winther breeze. They're 
 good for nothing, they're things out of 
 nature ; and Paddy Larkin himself — ha ! 
 ha! — couldn't tell what they were made 
 for. But, talkin' of Paddy Larkin, steer 
 clear of him ; he carries too much canvas 
 atop, little below, and no ballast in the 
 hould. He said to me awhile ago, what 
 do you think? why, no less than that 
 Squire Croker, and all shoneens of his sort 
 ought to be cleared out of the country.
 
 THE GRANVILLE S. 21 
 
 and that it 'ud be only the part of a man 
 to send a bullet through his waistband. 
 I don't like this meand'rin' sort of talk, 
 blow me if I do ; and whenever I hear it 
 from the lips of man, woman, or child, 
 I set my proboscis against it, and I veer 
 about on the other tack. Whatever way 
 Croker served your father, no man has a 
 rio^ht to take the law into his own hands, 
 or to punish the stealin' of a rabbit by 
 burnin' of a house. No, leave that to the 
 right judge. There's a heaven and a hell, 
 and there's a judge above all. Paddy 
 Larkin's ways never turned out well for 
 this world or the next ; and the farther an 
 honest man keeps out of his wake, the 
 safer he'll be in his course, and the sooner 
 he'll arrive at port. I don't mane to say 
 that you're a man as is likely to sail under 
 his colours ; your blood is too good for that, 
 and your knowledge is above it ; but if 
 you hail him under any stress of weather, 
 or let him put foot on your deck, you'll be 
 only givin' him powder, as it were, for his 
 carbine, and trimmin' for his lugger. He 
 will boast of your acquaintance, and lift
 
 22 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 Ms jib to your wind. Cut clear of liim, 
 in every shape, manner, and form, and let 
 him pick out his own nuts. He is an evil 
 bird, and he'll have an evil end. Well, the 
 world is quare, and it isn't quare ; let 
 every man sail under honest colours, let 
 him keep an eye towin'ard, and steady his 
 helm, and all will go safe ; all ivill go safe. 
 Yes, all will go safe, no matter how it ends ; 
 for to live, or to die, is neither good nor 
 evil ; but to live Jionesthj, or to die honestly, 
 is what I call good, both the one and the 
 other. Yes, Masther Herbert, that's the 
 long and the short of everything on board 
 this here world of ours." 
 
 While Jack Gorman was thus airing his 
 philosophy for the benefit of his hearer, 
 young Granville was indulging his fancy 
 in the pages of the volume which he held 
 open before him. Occasionally, he would 
 raise his eyes from the volume, and 
 smile at the combined volubility and 
 philosophy of the speaker ; but at length, 
 finding that a pause had been made in the 
 elocution of his friend, he closed the book, 
 and commenced to speak.
 
 THE GRANTILLES. 23 
 
 *' I agree witli you, Jack, in all you have 
 said ; but I must take leave to correct what 
 I conceive to be your erroneous impressions 
 with regard to the relations subsisting 
 between myself and Paddy Larkin. Paddy, 
 as you are aware, has been a long time in 
 the service of our family, though since my 
 father's death he has left us, seeing that 
 we had no further employment for him. 
 This is the sole ground of his familiarity 
 with me, to which you allude. He has 
 been always a faithful servant, while in our 
 family, and whatever may be his errors 
 then or since, of which I am certainly 
 ignorant, one thing I venture to say, that 
 there is not in all Ireland a man of kinder 
 and more generous feeling, or who would 
 be less disposed to do an ignoble act. As 
 to his connexion with the Whiteboys, or 
 Whitefeet, or whatever the/ call them, of 
 that I am wholly unacquainted. He has 
 never mentioned a word of it to me, and T 
 assure you that I feel no interest in such 
 subjects. Yet, I cannot shut out from my 
 mind the unhappy condition of our suffer- 
 ing country, a condition which would seem
 
 24 THK GRANVILLES. 
 
 to liave been superinduced by some curse 
 or fatality, or whatever it may be called, 
 from a remote period. It is a condition, 
 however, which caimot be remedied in the 
 way that those secret and illegal societies 
 would seem to point out. Many of our 
 evils, I fear but too many, have been 
 brought on by our own improvident and 
 reckless conduct ; and if ever our state is to 
 be improved, rely upon it, such improve- 
 ment must come from principles of conduct 
 entirely different from those which have 
 marked our career for years past. But 
 again, what hope is there, or can there be, 
 of a change of condition for the better, 
 whilst the landed interest oE this country 
 continues to be used in the way it has been 
 these centuries past by the Government 
 of England ? We seem to be but a mere 
 outpost of British interests, and to be 
 maintained in that most anomalous condi- 
 tion through the agency of our own landed 
 aristocracy. But all this perversion of 
 things is simply the evolution of history ; 
 we were conquered, how or when, it mat- 
 ters not to inquire, but the result of that
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 25 
 
 conquest is the state in which we now find 
 ourselves. Tributary events and circum- 
 stances have heightened the results of this 
 conquest — such as repeated colonizations, 
 or plantations, as they are called, the 
 introduction of a new system of religion, 
 and the abolition of our own Parliament — 
 these things have but served to render the 
 conquest not only more galling, but more 
 hopeless as to any reaction in the circum- 
 stances produced by simple conquest alone. 
 But enough of this, I wish to speak with you 
 on matters more immediately affecting 
 me at present. Have you seen Miss 
 Moore ? " 
 
 "Have I seen Miss Moore? Yes, of 
 course I have ; and I have spoken to her, 
 too, about everything concernin' yourself 
 and herself, and found her what I always 
 knew she was — sound in hull, masts, and 
 rigging ; a craft fit for any weather." 
 
 While saying this, Jack Gorman, or 
 the captain, as he was sometimes euphoni- 
 ously styled, removed the beehive hat from 
 his head, and placing it between his knees, 
 with the concave upwards, he drew from
 
 26 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 its lining — which seemed to be divided 
 into corapartments or pockets for the re- 
 ception of various articles of daily use or 
 reference, such as ribbons, accounts, 
 ballads, newspapers, letters, and other 
 literary curiosities — he drew from amid 
 this varied store, a small note twisted 
 into the shape of a true lover's knot, and 
 handed it to Herbert. As he did this, he 
 pursed up his lips, and commenced whist- 
 ling, in a low subdued strain of melod}^, a 
 lively Irish jig, to the measure of which 
 he assented by the swaying of his head 
 upward and downward; whilst, meantime, 
 he busied himself in replacing in their 
 proper receptacles a few scraps of paper, 
 printed and written, which had come out 
 with the note. 
 
 Herbert unfolded the billet-doux, for such, 
 it was, of his beloved, and looked pleased 
 as he read it. He then said, turning to his 
 companion, '' What did she say, when you 
 liinted the probability of my leaving the 
 country ? Did she look satisfied ? " 
 
 "Look satisfied! no; that was not to 
 be counted on ; why should she ? Did you
 
 THE GE ANTILLES. 27 
 
 ever know or liear of sliip, barque, scliooner, 
 brig, or pinnace, that looked quiet and 
 easy -witli tlie wind ahead ? 'Tis not in 
 nature to put that in the calculation. No, 
 bub she looked calm, trembled a little, and 
 balanced her head in the palm of her hand. 
 I need tell you no more. When I told her 
 how you should return to the ould place, 
 and wake up all its glories again, as the 
 poet says, and when she would be the 
 brightest jewel there, she smiled, and then 
 leaving me, she said s'le'd be back in a 
 few minutes. She returned, gave me that 
 dockyment you have in your hand, and 
 told me to be sure to see you and deliver 
 it to you safe ; and so my song ends." 
 
 Herbert rising, placed the note in his 
 vest pocket, and after eujoining upon his 
 companion to meet him at a certain speci- 
 fied place on the next evening but one, he 
 placed his book under his arm, and left 
 the shrubbery.
 
 28 THE GEANVILLES, 
 
 CHAPTER III. • 
 
 THE CAPTAIN AT HOME. 
 
 After Herbert Granville had passed on in 
 the direction of the pnblic road which led 
 down to the village, and was fairly out of 
 sight, Gorman also left the shrubbery, 
 and taking a circuitous route, in order to 
 avoid returninof to the corn-field, where we 
 found him employed some short time 
 since, lie entered by a small gate into an 
 orchard in the rear of the farm-house; 
 and passing thence through a turnstile 
 in the farm-yard, he approached the barn- 
 door as if to speak to a gentleman who 
 was standing near it. No sooner had the 
 gentleman, Avho was no other than the 
 owner of the place, Mr. George Moore, 
 recognized Gorman, than he cried out, — 
 
 *' Hallo, captain, is that you ? you are 
 the very man I wished most to see. Can
 
 THE GEANVJLLES. 29 
 
 you let me know the quantity and amount 
 of tliat flour wliicli I had sold Jones at 
 Com2:castle last week? There is some 
 dispute about it ; and I have in some way 
 or other mislaid the papers ; so that I was 
 anxious to see you. But upon inquiring 
 after you from the reapers in the field, 
 they told me you had left some time ago. 
 Can you help me in this business ? " 
 
 The captain replied only by slowly re- 
 moving from his head the glazed hat ; and 
 after turning it round and round as though 
 in search of the particular square or 
 parallelogram of chalked figures with 
 which it was adorned, he at length fixed 
 his eye steadily upon one of those figured 
 decorations, and read from it the informa- 
 tion sought for by his questioner. 
 
 " That's it, exactly," he exclaimed, "to 
 the hundreth part of a decimal; but to 
 satisfy your honour that all is square and 
 tight, I will corroborate the report of the 
 day-book by the contents of the ledger;" 
 and drawino- from the interior of the hat 
 a brown coloured strip of paper, he pre- 
 sented it to him.
 
 30 THE GPtANVILLES. 
 
 It accorded, in its contents, with the 
 figures on the hat ; and Mr. Moore ex- 
 pressed himself satisfied with the correct- 
 ness of the record. 
 
 " Now, captain," he added, '' if you 
 would be good enough to just go down to 
 the men in the field below, and tell Paddy 
 Larkin that I wish to speak with him for 
 a minute, you would oblige me : and if 
 you have nothing else to do to-morrow 
 morning step down this way, and help me 
 to make up those mill accounts that I was 
 speaking to you about." 
 
 "All right, squire," replied Gorman, 
 ** I'll deliver the message to that distin- 
 guished patriot — ha ! ha ! — and I'll bear 
 down to this here port at the first favour- 
 able breeze in the morning. Good-bye, 
 squire," he added, as he wheeled round on 
 his heels, and touched his hat. Then 
 springing over the low stile which sepa- 
 rated the farm-yard from the adjoining 
 paddock, he tripped down in the direction 
 of the corn-field. 
 
 The reader cannot fail to notice, from 
 what he has seen of the manner and
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 31 
 
 address of Jack Gorman, or the captain, 
 that there was something in his habits and 
 character which indicated a training or 
 mode of life different from that of the 
 class of field labourers with whom he was 
 now associated. The peculiarity of his 
 address, and the superior information and 
 sagacity which he evinced, and which 
 rendered him an object of evident consider- 
 ation, not only to Mr. Moore, but also to 
 Herbert Granville, gave evidence that he 
 was a man of some degree of education, 
 as well as of experience in the ways of the 
 world; and that he also possessed an 
 amount of discretion and of prudence, which 
 entitled him to the confidence of those 
 gentlemen. The eccentricity manifested 
 in his attire, too, was calculated to attract 
 attention, and to point him out as one 
 who had a story to relate, or a record to 
 refer to outside the everyday life of his 
 rustic acquaintances. He was, in truth, a 
 man of no small sagacity; and to the advan- 
 tages which he owed to Nature, he added 
 those of an early education, conducted with 
 no little care in view of his moral improve-
 
 32 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 ment and religious principles, as well as of 
 Ms worldly advancement. His father liad 
 been a meclianic in comfortable circum- 
 stances, and bad spared no expense in 
 providing this, bis only son, witb tbe best 
 education wbicb tbe country schools in his 
 neighbourhood could afford. Besides this, 
 be bad paid particular attention to his 
 religious training, and to bis practice and 
 observance of those duties which the church 
 of his fathers enjoined. So far, therefore, 
 bis education was in every way calculated 
 to foster and develop his natural powers, 
 and to render him at once useful to himself 
 and to society. But the best intentions 
 of men are oftentimes impeded and coun- 
 teracted by circumstances and accidents 
 which no foresight, no matter how wise or 
 careful, can always obviate. The father 
 having died, and the family being after- 
 wards reduced to a state of great poverty 
 and distress, young Grorman, who was then 
 about sixteen or seventeen years of age, 
 took a situation as junior clerk in a drapery 
 establishment in the neighbouring town of 
 Corrisrcastle. He could do no better at the
 
 THE GKA^YILLES. 33 
 
 time ; and to this lie was impelled by liis 
 affection for liis mother and two sisters, to 
 whose support he was desirous to contribute 
 in the only way Avhich was then open to 
 him. In this employment two years had 
 passed over, when the family whom he 
 so ardently loved, and strenuonsly laboured 
 for, were suddenly laid on a bed of sick- 
 ness, having been seized with a contagious 
 fever which had been for some time raging 
 in their vicinity. In a few weeks the 
 mother and two daughters slept together 
 side by side in one grave. 
 
 Poor John Gorman reeled beneath the 
 blow : his spirit sank, and his usual energy 
 and activity seemed to have forsaken him. 
 He moped about for some time silent and 
 disconsolate; he abandoned his employ- 
 ment, and retired into the country, where 
 he lived with an uncle, his mother's 
 brother, until his grief began to subside, 
 and the necessity of exertion was forced 
 upon him. 
 
 One fine spring morning, within six 
 months after the death of those whom he 
 held so dear, he left his uncle's house, 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 and was no more seen in the places that 
 knew him, until his name and his sorrows 
 seemed to have been forgotten alike, and 
 the waves of time to have closed over his 
 memory. 
 
 More than a quarter of a century had 
 passed away, and Jack Gorman appeared 
 once more in his native village. He had 
 returned from his wanderings beyond the 
 wide Atlantic, and sought his early home 
 again, there to pass away whatever 
 additional years Providence might be 
 pleased to grant him. Whether the years 
 of his exile had improved the quality of 
 his head and heart, we do not undertake to 
 say ; but that his knowledge of men and 
 things, and his estimate of the world's 
 mingled cup of happiness and misery were 
 enlarged and improved, can admit of little 
 doubt, as we shall have occasion to observe 
 in the course of this history. 
 
 Having said thus much touching the life 
 and character of the captain, we shall now 
 follow him as he walks along by the hill- 
 side in the direction of his dwelling. He 
 delivered the message which Mr. Moore
 
 THE GEAIs^YILLES. 35 
 
 had given liiin for Paddy Larkin ; after 
 wliicli he sauntered along through the 
 village of Ballydine, making short turns 
 here and there, and entering the dwellings 
 of the farmers and cottars, until the sun 
 began to decline towards the verge of 
 the horizon, when he bent his footsteps 
 towards his own domicile, near the summit 
 of the hill above the village. The going 
 down of the sun was glorious on this August 
 evening, the sky was calm, lovely, and 
 clear, and the trees along the glens and by 
 the waysides slept dreamily in the soft light. 
 Having made a detour by the lower part 
 of the village, called the Gross, and leaving 
 Mulligan's tavern on his left hand, he 
 struck into the mountain road, which we 
 have already mentioned as leading to the 
 rising ground above the Yale of Orma. 
 After proceeding about a mile from the 
 Cross, and keeping the high road for about 
 half that distance, and a narrow lane, or 
 horun, as it was called, which wound by 
 the side of a deep precipitous glen at the 
 base of the hill, for the remaining part, he 
 struck off to the left, upon a path which 
 D 2
 
 o6 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 twisted diagonally along tlie rising ground 
 until he came to a stream wliicli tumbled 
 amid rocks and stunted firs down to the 
 ravine below. Crossing over this, on a 
 sort of bridge composed of rough unhewn 
 trees, lopped of their branches and cut 
 into suitable lengths, he breasted the hill, 
 over broken fields and ragged hedges over- 
 grown and tangled with furze, fern, and 
 briar, until he reached a point towards its 
 summit, where a large boulder rock, fringed 
 with heath and broom, and surmount- 
 ing a small rush-grown hillock, arrested 
 his progress. He ascended this rock, 
 which was flat and somewhat depressed on 
 the top ; and seating himself on its outer 
 edge, a smooth and level surface like the 
 rim of a basin, he gazed down upon the 
 valley that lay extended beneath him. 
 The sight was, in truth, entrancing. The 
 whole scene, which we attempted to 
 sketch in our opening chapter, spread 
 itself before him, bathed in the rich glories 
 of a retiring sun ; the sky waved its 
 streamers of brilliant and ever- shifting 
 hues above and around it ; the river Orma
 
 THE GKANVILLES. 37 
 
 glistened and glowed in its serpentine 
 course amid the wealth and luxury that 
 lined its path ; and mansion and cottage, 
 park and grove, farmstead and hamlet, lay 
 slumberinor in the midst of the encirclinof 
 splendours. Gorman's eyes seemed to 
 devour the landscape ; he folded his arms 
 upon his bosom; his legs lay extended 
 and crossed ; his breast rose and fell with 
 emotion ; and his whole soul seemed 
 rivetted upon the scene. What thoughts 
 and memories then held revel in his heart 
 and brain we shall not attempt to tell ; but 
 that the visions of his early life rose fresh 
 and vivid to his mind, and touched his 
 heart's most tender chords, we can readily 
 conceive ; for as he quietly rose from his 
 seat, and drew his hand across his eyes, he 
 uttered intrembhng and broken accents, — 
 " My own dear, dear mother ! I see you 
 near that tree again, as when your lips 
 pressed my cheek, and you looked — oh, 
 sweet mother ! — ^you looked for the last 
 time on your unhappy son. Oh ! I was 
 happy then ; how happy, ho^ happy ! " He 
 paused and again cast his eyes over the
 
 38 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 scene, while his lips trembled and moved 
 as though in prayer ; but the next broken 
 words he uttered were, '* Sweet sisters ! 
 may heaven's light ever shine upon you. 
 I remember the last time we parted. 
 Death had laid his cold hand upon you : — 
 sickness and sorrow were seated by our 
 hearth- stone. My hght of life went out, 
 the darkness of despair fell like a heavy 
 cloud upon my heart, and my soul longed 
 to be with you in another and a better 
 world. God ! my God ! " 
 
 He turned from the scene, and slowly 
 descending from the rocks, he made his 
 way along the ridge of the hill amid a 
 tangled growth of underwood and shrub, 
 until he reached a large grass-grown 
 hedge, shaded with willows and sycamores, 
 and forming a frontage to a small garden. 
 At the farthest point of this garden stood 
 a small cottage, perched in a nook beneath 
 a beetling rock, which rose like a castle 
 wall above its humble roof. A small 
 wicket opened into the garden, and from 
 this wicket a narrow pathway, strewn with 
 white sand, and bordered with box-trees and
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 39 
 
 rose buslies, led to the door of the cottage. 
 Gorman passed through the Tricket and 
 entered the cottage door which lay open 
 before him. A small chair made of straw, 
 with arms and back of the same material, 
 and displaying in its construction no small 
 amount of artistic skill, stood within the 
 door; upon this Gorman sat as soon as he 
 had entered, and extending his legs and 
 arms, with a long-drawn sigh, he muttered 
 to himself, " This is my home — the poor 
 old spot!"
 
 40 THE GR ANTILLES. 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 THE- DANCE — AND NELLY COKKORAn's DEEAM, 
 
 Gorman's cottage — within wliose portal be 
 now reposed, after his day's varied labour, 
 and his tramp along the hill — was a rather 
 remarkable object amid the rude wilder- 
 ness of the surrounding scenery. It was, 
 indeed, an oasis in the desert. It was 
 known, among the neighbouring peasantry, 
 by the name of the Glazement, from the 
 circumstance, we believe, of its being fur- 
 nished and adorned with windows of 
 framed glass, shaped and fitted with a 
 degree of propriety and fitness unknown 
 among the rude and scattered dwellings 
 which lay cowering in its vicinity. 
 
 Unlike those receptacles of squalidness 
 and poverty, it presented a clean and cosy 
 appearance, both inside and outside ; and 
 bespoke a degree of taste and refinement
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 41 
 
 in its proprietor unknown to liis less 
 enliglitened and less provident neighbours. 
 It had space, and comfort, and cleanliness 
 in the interior, while its external aspect 
 was marked with no ordinary degree of 
 sightliness and elegance. 
 
 It was a thatched house, of rather 
 ample proportions for its class, for it con- 
 tained a kitchen or general room, spacious 
 and lofty, two small bedrooms of con- 
 venient proportions whose doors opened 
 at the end of this, and another small room, 
 which was dignified with the name of 
 store, at right angles with the kitchen and 
 extending towards its rear, and partly cut 
 into a crevice of the rock which beetled 
 above it. A spacious hearth occupied one 
 extremity of the kitchen; and a decent 
 chimney of stone and mortar shining in 
 whitewash, rose above the roof. 
 
 The windows, which were five in 
 number, were, as we have said, framed and 
 glazed, and decorated on the outside — at 
 least four of them — with flowering wood- 
 bine, which gave a freshness and beauty to 
 the little dwelling that was peculiarly
 
 42 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 agreeable amid a scene so rude and re- 
 pulsive. 
 
 The four windows thus adorned were 
 the two that looked out from the kitchen 
 and the two which admitted light to the 
 bed-rooms, one of which was in a line with 
 the kitchen windows, while the other looked 
 out at the end. The fifth window was 
 placed in the roof of the room called the 
 store. The three front windows contained 
 each six small panes, and each of the others 
 four panes of the same size. 
 
 A small garden lay in front and extended 
 beyond the two ends of the cottage ; which 
 garden was protected and ornamented at 
 the same time by a hedge which ran around 
 it till it met the rock in the rear. It was 
 divided into plots and squares, devoted 
 principally to cabbages and potatoes ; but 
 here and there were small beds of onions, 
 parsnips, leeks and lettuce, garnished with 
 rose bushes, tulips, lilies, and other floral 
 beauties. The whole was shaded with a 
 row of hawthorn trees, interspersed with 
 tall sycamores and mountain ash which 
 flung their fragrance and their shadows at
 
 THE GEANYILLES. 43 
 
 the same time around the precincts of the 
 cottage. 
 
 The little paths or walks which inter- 
 sected the garden were trimmed with 
 bachelor's buttons, pansies, and other 
 small flowers, of different colour and 
 variety, and covered with white gravel or 
 sand ; while a small circular patch of clover 
 at the southern extremity of the cottage 
 and garden, lay embosomed amid fragments 
 of raofo^ed rocks, hurled in fantastic dis- 
 
 or) ' 
 
 order and confusion one upon another; 
 and added to the delicious odours of the 
 spot. 
 
 The small wicket which opened into the 
 garden was painted green, as was also the 
 cottage door ; while the window sashes 
 and sills shone in white : the roof was 
 ornamented upon the top, and along the 
 eave in front, with a sort of laced work of 
 straw, which contributed in no little 
 measure to its graceful aspect. 
 
 Standing at the door of this cottage, 
 and casting the eye around, an observer 
 could not fail to be impressed with a sense 
 of the silence and desolation which reigned
 
 M THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 on every side. It was not that tliere was 
 an entire absence of cultivation and of 
 dwellers, for there were many farm-houses 
 and labourers' cabins scattered around 
 everywhere ; but from the manifest absence 
 of supervision and of interest on the jDart 
 of the owners of the lands, the impression 
 became irresistible, that they had either 
 abandoned their properties altogether as 
 worthless, or were unable from some cause 
 to exercise over it their right of ownership. 
 
 In a civilized country, and an age of 
 progress, it was lamentable to observe the 
 evidences of squalid poverty and neglect 
 which appeared on every side; and this 
 too in a region which nature had treated in 
 no niggardly spirit. 
 
 The landscape was made up of hill, dale, 
 glen, and plain, with a background of 
 mountains retreating far away into the 
 clouds. It was such a scene as the 
 imagination could supply with a busy, and 
 prosperous, and enlightened population, in 
 the midst of flocks, and herds, and golden 
 fields, a population abounding in the com- 
 forts, and the blessings of a 23rogressive age;
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 45 
 
 yet there it lay in almost total silence, and 
 in all but the absolute desolation in which 
 the waves of the Great Deluge had left it. 
 
 Of course, it is not to be inferred that 
 the extensive and varied country lying 
 before us is altogether in its primitive 
 state ; by no means : but what we desire 
 to show is this, that it was in such a state 
 of deplorable neglect, as to be incapable of 
 supporting a hundredth part of the popula- 
 tion which might, under proper care and 
 an enlightened system of culture, draw not 
 only sustenance, but comfort and indepen- 
 dence from its bosom. 
 
 The country though rugged and marshy 
 in some portions of it, was on the whole 
 capable of being brought to a high state of 
 cultivation ; and from its general outline, 
 was calculated to present a landscape of no 
 ordinary variety, richness, and beauty. 
 
 However, it is not our business to 
 enter into discussions of political or rural 
 economy; we must turn our attention to 
 the Glazement, and introduce our readers 
 within its cosy and decent walls. The 
 kitchen, at the door of which the captain
 
 46 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 was seated in his straw arm-cliair, was, as 
 we have said, a room of respectable size. 
 Its furniture, though scanty, was decent 
 and convenient. A dresser, a small deal 
 table supported on a square frame with 
 four legs, two or three strong chairs with 
 rush or straw bottoms, a boss, or straw- 
 seat, round and comfortable, a long bench 
 of rude construction, and a short stool or 
 two, constituted, with the chair on which 
 the captain was seated, the whole inven- 
 tory of the kitchen furniture. 
 
 The floor of this apartment was of earth, 
 but so even, compact, and clean, that one 
 might eat off it. The two little bedrooms 
 were equally simple in their garniture, and 
 cleanly in their appearance. Each con- 
 tained a good-sized bedstead, with four 
 posts, a rack for clothes, and a box — the 
 box in that which appeared to be the 
 captain's room, was not so much a box as 
 a sea-chest, for it was long, strong, and 
 massive, and had on its cover the letters 
 J. G., cut with a penknife, or other sharp 
 instrument, to indicate the name of its 
 proprietor.
 
 THE GE AN VI LIES. 47 
 
 In this room were also some instruments 
 and implements whicli indicated some of 
 tlie employments or occupations of its 
 owner, sucli as a violin, a flute, a fishing 
 rod, a reaping hook or two, one or two 
 small nets, and a shelf with a dozen or so 
 of books upon it. Each room contained, 
 besides the respective articles we have 
 named, a small crucifix suspended above 
 the head of the bed, and a picture of the 
 crucifixion below at the foot, together with 
 two or three small pictures of saints fas- 
 tened upon the walls. 
 
 The room whose window looked out at 
 the end of the cottage, was evidently that 
 of a female, for the small rack against the 
 partition contained several articles of 
 female attire. In fact, the lady who occu- 
 pied it was l^elly Corkoran, she to whom, 
 the reader will remember, the captain 
 handed the reaping-hook in the corn-field 
 when he went to join Herbert Grranville. 
 
 To remove all mystery on this subject 
 then, we may at once inform the reader 
 that Nelly was the captain's cousin, the 
 only daughter of that uncle with whom he
 
 48 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 had lived previously to liis departure for 
 America. She had married a man of the 
 name of Corkoran ; who, dying within a 
 short space after their marriage, left her a 
 widow with one child — a daiio^hter. This 
 daughter who, married a cottar in the glen 
 beyond, and who was very comfortable and 
 happy in her way, had several children, 
 one of whom, a little girl, lived with her 
 grandmother at the Grlazement. The 
 family of the Glazement, therefore, con- 
 sisted of the captain (Jack Gorman had 
 never married), his cousin 'NeWj Corkoran, 
 and Nelly's grand-daughter, Minny Rice, a 
 child about seven years old. 
 
 But while we are thus occupied in 
 tracing the genealogy of the occupants of 
 the Glazement, our friend the captain has 
 disappeared from his seat at the cottage 
 door; and Nelly and little Minny, in com- 
 pany with a stranger, a man of comic 
 aspect and bearing, have passed through 
 it, and are busying themselves — at least 
 Nelly is — in putting the house to rights, 
 lighting a fire in the hearth, and preparing 
 supper. The stranger — who is not a
 
 TIJE OruVNYlLLES. 49 
 
 stranger after all, for lie belongs to one 
 of tlie neighbouring villages, and a great 
 favourite to boot amono^ the surrounding^ 
 peasantry — is planted on one of the rush- 
 bottomed chairs, with an oblong green 
 bag, plump and stiff, laid on the table at 
 his elbow ; he is holding converse, or 
 rather cracking jokes with the captain. 
 
 The captain, too, appears metamorphosed, 
 for instead of the garb in which we first 
 introduced him to the reader in the early 
 part of the day, he is now arrayed in white 
 linen pantaloons, falling gracefully over a 
 pair of neat, tight pumps, and a light-blue 
 swallow-tailed coat, with vest and necktie 
 of unexceptionable style and material. In 
 short, he exhibits, in dress and movement, 
 the cut and fashion of a dancing master. 
 
 *'Well, I tell you what, my diamond," 
 the visitor with the green bag was going 
 on to say, addressing the captain, " I never 
 seen you look smarther nor suppler than 
 this blessed minute. God bless my sowel ! 
 to think of it is enough to make a man like 
 myself as sprightly as a lark, and as frisky 
 as a colt in a clover field. Well, glory be 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 to God, I can't complain myself ; I am 
 strong and hearty, full-winded, firm- 
 limbed, light and airy — Irishman-like, my 
 trump " (springing up and slapping his 
 open palm on the shoulder of the captain), 
 "prepared for war, women, and wine. 
 That's the chat, my jewel. Well now, 
 captain, I'll give you a blast on the 
 clhoJiauns.^^ 
 
 Here lifting the green bag from the 
 table, he untied the string at its mouth, 
 and drew from it a set of bag-pipes, or 
 dhoJmuns, as he termed them, and seating 
 himself again, commenced screwing them 
 together. 
 
 Just as he had commenced this opera- 
 tion Nelly had supper prepared, and was 
 covering the table with a clean coarse 
 cloth, when three or four persons, young 
 men and women, entered the cottage, with 
 the usual salutation of " God save all 
 here." 
 
 After a brief interchange of compliments 
 and jokes, the new comers seated them- 
 selves on the long bench; and the man 
 with the green bag broke into a merry
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 51 
 
 strain, plying liis chanter with great vigour 
 and dexterity. 
 
 " More power to your elbow, Denny, 
 my rattler ! you're the boy can do it on 
 the chanther," exclaimed one of the new 
 comers, a young fellow with a round red 
 face and laughing eye, who was half re- 
 clining on the bench beside a merry looking 
 girl with a white straw hat and blue ribbons, 
 who was looking archly into the face of her 
 companion. 
 
 *' Now, Denny," he continued, rising, '' if 
 you don't play the ' Humours of Glen ' 
 for Bill Cleary here, without missing a 
 note, I'll make twenty smithereens of your 
 pipes, and drive your caubeen flying into 
 the chimney. Come, my rasper, up wid 
 id." 
 
 '' Git away wid you, Ned Doolin," re- 
 plied Nelly Corkoran, who had just com- 
 pleted the supper arrangements, and placed 
 a couple of chairs and a stool around the 
 table. " Come, Dinny, and take some thin' 
 to ate before you plays any more." 
 
 The table looked inviting with its 
 burthen of hot smoking potatoes and 
 E 2 

 
 62 THE GEAXVILLES. 
 
 noggins of fresli skimmed milk, with a 
 dozen of boiled shining hens' eggs placed in 
 a wooden bowl at the top ; and Denny, 
 eyeing the feast (indeed, one eye was all 
 the corporeal light he could command), 
 immediately rose, unbound his instrument, 
 which he laid aside, and placed himself at 
 the table. 
 
 As he was going through this operation 
 he kept bantering Ned Doolin : — 
 
 '' And how is the Colleen Duv, Ned avick ? 
 Take care of yourself in that plantation, 
 for I tell you a secret — and you may be- 
 lieve one Denis Mullins of the Glen, head 
 piper of the Barony of Moonroe, when he 
 speaks — I tell you this, avick, there's a fox 
 near your hen roost." 
 
 The girls laughed merrily ; Ned bit his 
 lip; the piper chuckled and commenced 
 operations on the mealy potatoes; and 
 Nelly pressed the boys and girls to join in 
 the supper. They all refused, saying they 
 had supped already ; and remained on the 
 bench exchanging jibes and jokes with 
 Denny and with one another until the 
 supper was ended.
 
 THE GEANYILLES. 53 
 
 *' Xow," said Denny, as he rose from the 
 table, and drew himself up in the centre of 
 the floor, *' I'm ready for action; — I'm like 
 Lord Fairborough's tenants, ' neither dry 
 nor hungry, but continted and happy, and 
 burstin' Tvid fun.' Come now, my fair 
 coaxers — ye charmin' heart-breakers — I'm 
 your man for the melody that'll warm your 
 tinder sowls, and sind the blood a-frisking 
 through your veins like summer light - 
 enin' ; — hee ! hee ! hee ! " 
 
 He went into a fit of laughter, re- 
 sembling the prolonged and jerking voice 
 of a goat; and again resumed his pipes. 
 
 '' Well, captain," he said, addressing 
 Gorman, ''what's your fancy? — the Black- 
 hirclf the Bar cVs Legacy? Gatlileen Tlireealf 
 the ' Boijne Wather^ — hee-hee, hee ! or the 
 Goolin ? Anything you like, John Gorman ! 
 for you and I can't forget our g or soon 
 (boyish) years, when we played together, 
 and thripp'd id on the loight fantashtic 
 toe." 
 
 ''Pinnace, ahoy there," exclaimed the 
 captain, looking towards the girl with the 
 laughing eyes, whose name was Peggy
 
 54 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 Cummins ; and then stepping forth on the 
 floor, — '' Come, my Colleen Dhas (fair girl) 
 let us laid the van. Give us Haste to the 
 Wedding, Denny," he said, turning to the 
 piper, " and — whisper — may we soon be 
 hastenin' to your own. Come, sweep it 
 along, my blasther." 
 
 Denny commenced, but Peggy did not 
 seem content ; and Ned Doolin taking the 
 floor and leading the other girl out, 
 suggested the Fox-hmiter' s jig as a tune 
 that would please all, ''as there was 
 love and jollity in id," and it was a 
 favourite with Judy Casey, his partner. 
 Denny then jerked off the Fox-hunter'* s jig , 
 and the captain and Ned Doolin with 
 their respective partners did ample justice 
 to its measure. The piper interspersed his 
 melody with an occasional whoo-o-o, while 
 the dancers pounded the floor, flung their 
 limbs into all sorts of attitude, cracked 
 their fingers, whirled, curvetted, or jumped 
 until thought, feeling, sensation, every 
 faculty of the soul was involved in the 
 vortex of the excitement, or carried along 
 in the whirlwind of the music.
 
 THE GllANVILLES. 55 
 
 " That's you, Peggy Baicn, whip it on 
 the shtart ; now for it, Judy, achra ! grind 
 it in the middle, and reel it off wid a slap 
 — li'hoo ! that's you, my top ! Heel it, 
 captain ; take the weather gauge — hee, hee, 
 hee ! — Ha, ha, Ned Doolin, missed the 
 clinch ; no dreamin' of the Colleen Dlmv ; 
 mind your shteps — that's you, my lark. 
 Bravo, captain ! heel up on the quarter, and 
 let go your bowlin', hee, hee, hee ! flank the 
 inimy, and haul up ^^our braces — hee, hee, 
 hee ! " 
 
 Thus went on the piper, throughout the 
 whole performance ; until at length the 
 dancers appeared over-breathed, and 
 gradually subsided into a comparatively 
 easy and rational movement, when they 
 terminated the performance by a semi- 
 circular movement on the part of each 
 couple, with a bow and a scrape from the 
 captain and Xed Doolin, delivered to their 
 partners respectively. 
 
 " All right, Denny, ma hhochaV^ (my boy), 
 exclaimed Xed, as he wiped the perspira- 
 tion from his forehead, and resumed his 
 seat by Peggy's side on the long bench —
 
 56 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 ** may you never loose tlie tin knuckles, my 
 ould blowliarcl, or be disappointed by the 
 girl you loves." 
 
 '' Thank you, Ned ; I return you the 
 compliment in regard of the girl ; and 
 believe me, it won't be my fault if ye don't 
 be spliced before Advint ; a Avord in the 
 Coort, you know, is worth a crown in the 
 purse." 
 
 ''Come, girls," said Nelly, approaching 
 the young women, and taking one of them 
 by the arm, " come wid me, I want to show 
 ye my new cloak; come, and lave those 
 lads and Dinny settle the match atween 
 um." 
 
 The two young women sprang up from 
 the bench, and followed Nelly into her bed- 
 room, where a black teapot, some cups and 
 saucers, and a plate piled with large slices 
 of bread and butter met their delighted 
 gaze. 
 
 " Sit down now, on theboxhere, girls, and 
 we'll have a snorin' cup together. When I 
 finished the bindin' at Mr. Moore's in the 
 evenin' I wint down to the Cross, an' I 
 bought the makins of this at Peter
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 57 
 
 Mackey's; and a nate drop it is ye'll 
 find." 
 
 The girls laughed, pulled Nelly by the 
 cap and gown, and sat down to enjoy her 
 nate cup of tay, as she called it. 
 
 Now, at the time of which we write, 
 which is some forty years ago, the use of 
 tea in the houses of country farmers and 
 cottagers was a thing so novel in itself, and 
 withal deemed such a mark of extravagance 
 and folly, that those who indulged in it 
 were considered as being little short of 
 lunatics. They had, to use the common 
 phrase, " neither sinse, nor sliame^ nor con- 
 duct, who ivent on wid sichdoins\'^' yet the 
 practice was secretly indulged in by some of 
 the farmers and comfortable cottars' wives 
 and daughters, especially those who ''got a 
 taste of the town," and had friends and 
 cronies among the shopkeepers and trades- 
 men of the neighbouring towns. Butwhile 
 the ladies are secretly enjoying their odori- 
 ferous beverage, we shall return to our 
 friends in the kitchen. 
 
 " AYell now, Denny," observed the cap- 
 tain, "'tis a good spell ago since you and I
 
 58 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 first joined in a melody togetlier ; but " 
 (drawing a deep sigh) " where's the use of 
 looking back to those ould times ? There 
 was pleasure and merriment, to be sure ; 
 and good and loving hearts to share it ; but 
 there were dark hours, too, and sorrow, 
 and grief, and misfortune had a finger in 
 the pie. Nevermind; I like to hear the 
 old songs and old tunes ; they always veers 
 my heart round to the right point of the 
 compass, and swells my sails in the voyage 
 of life. Let us have one of the old tunes, 
 Denny ; come, fly your jib, and give her 
 topsails to the breeze." 
 
 As the captain w^as proceeding in this 
 strain of mingled soberness and levity, the 
 cottage door opened, and three persons — 
 two young women and a young man — 
 entered. The captain immediately rose 
 from his seat, and with playful politeness 
 expressed the '* honour and delight he felt 
 on receiving within his modest castle his 
 most illustrious and most welcome guests." 
 
 " I'm delighted to see you, Miss Fanny; 
 and you, Miss Granville, my sweet lady ; — 
 how is every inch of you both ? Sit down
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 59 
 
 here :" and lie placed seats for the two in 
 front of the piper. ''Master Harry, my 
 noble gentleman," he continued, ''you're 
 welcome — here you are — sit here;" and 
 he led him to a chair beside himself. 
 
 The new arrivals were, certainly, to use 
 the captain's phrase, illustrious looking 
 persons, when taken in connexion with 
 the place and its surroundings. It is true 
 that they were not in dress or manner 
 either very imposing or very formidable, 
 yet, in both these particulars, they ex- 
 hibited a very marked and very striking 
 distinction from those in whose society 
 they were now mingling. The young lady, 
 named Fanny, was the daughter of Mr. 
 Moore, in whose corn-field the captain was 
 first introduced to the reader — and she 
 whose name was mentioned in the interview 
 between the captain and Herbert Granville 
 in the shrubbery. She was a beautiful girl, 
 and one whose appearance at first sight 
 was calculated to leave a pleasing impression 
 upon the mind. She was not tall ; indeed 
 she scarcely reached the middle height; 
 but there was that in the shape of her face,
 
 60 • THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 the expression of Iter eye, and the forma- 
 tion and outlines of her figure — in her 
 hands, arms, bosom, waist, and lower 
 limbs — as far as these last were indicated 
 by her step and movement — there was that 
 in all these which at once awakened in the 
 heart and mind a sense of beauty and love- 
 liness such as are rarely to be met with, and 
 when met with, not easily to be forgotten. 
 She was plainly dressed — a gown of cheap 
 material, but of a neat striped pattern, sur- 
 mounted by a light brown woollen cloak, of 
 fine texture, that hung lightly on her body, 
 and was fastened over her bosom with a 
 small silver clasp, constituted the entire of 
 her external decoration ; if we except a 
 light pink kerchief that encircled her neck 
 above the dress, and a small Leghorn hat, 
 which rested jauntily on her head ; these, 
 with a pair of slight, polished, leather 
 shoes, and white cotton stockings com- 
 pleted her costume. Her face, which was 
 rather round than oval, was fair and beau- 
 tiful, and lighted with a pair of eyes of a 
 clear bright blue, whose light was tender, 
 soft, and wavy. Her head and neck were
 
 THE GEANVILLES. CI 
 
 covered and shaded with light brown, or 
 auburn hair disposed in rich-flowing ring- 
 lets which rested upon the shoulders. Her 
 hands were small, but plump and well 
 shaped ; and her feet were in keeping with 
 the general symmetry of her person — small, 
 curved, and elastic. 
 
 The other lady, who was attired in nearly 
 the same style of costume, except that the 
 colour of her dress was rather sombre, was 
 certainly beautiful, though her beauty was 
 different in character from that of her 
 companion. Her person was taller and 
 thinner, and her face, which was rather 
 pale, was more inclined to the oval than to 
 the round shape. Yet her face, neck, and 
 shoulders presented an outline of exquisite 
 curviture and grace; and her nose, which 
 was slio;htiv Eoman, but neither lars^e 
 nor pointed, was in perfect keeping with 
 the whole contour of the head and body. 
 Her eyes were dark brown, and emitted a 
 clear but gentle light, which at once im- 
 pressed the beholder. She wore her hair, 
 which was of a dark hazel colour, in folds 
 above her ears, and fastened on her head
 
 62 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 by a small comb of tortoise-shell. Her 
 figure was ligHt and graceful ; and lier 
 whole person, bearing, and expression indi- 
 cated refinement, gentleness, and good 
 nature. The two ladies seemed of an equal 
 age, which could not have exceeded seven- 
 teen or eighteen years. 
 
 Their companion, " Masther Harry," 
 was a smart, active, handsome young man, 
 of the middle size; with clear, flashing 
 brown eyes, a bounding gait, and a cheer- 
 ful aspect. He w^as dressed in a bottle- 
 green frock coat, light vest, and light 
 brown nankeen trousers. His neck was 
 adorned with a striped silk tie, closed in 
 front with an easy knot, which permitted 
 the unrestrained play of a full round and 
 white neck, rising between a pair of 
 shoulders broad and manly. His hat was 
 of brown felt, which covered a luxuriant 
 sfrowth of dark brown hair that waved 
 and curled around his neck and ears like 
 a cauliflower ; his age might be nineteen 
 or so. He was the brother of Miss Fanny 
 Moore ; and it was slyly whispered that he 
 had "notions about Miss Juha," the other
 
 THE GRANVILLE S. 63 
 
 young lady, wlio was the sister of Herbert 
 Granville. But while v^^e have been intro- 
 ducing the new visitors to the reader, 
 Nelly Corkoran has not been idle in 
 performing towards them the duties of 
 hostess. She has them, we mean the 
 young ladies just mentioned, already 
 ensconced in the sanctum of her bedroom, 
 with the two other young women ; and 
 while placing their hats and cloaks upon the 
 bed, she is earnestlv assuring^ them that a 
 betther or neat her bit of ta3^ couldn't be got 
 than that ; for I bought id myself at Peter 
 Mackey's, at the Cross ; and you may be 
 shure, miss," (looking sly at Fanny) " 'tisn't 
 the worst he'd give me. Come, ladies ! 
 now take the bread : maybe ye'd rather 
 the cakes — here taste these now. Take 
 another cup, Peggy : oh, is that the way 
 wid you, Judy Casey? the sorrow o'good 
 in yees at all." Thus was Xelly entertain- 
 ing her female friends ; while " Masther 
 Harry ' ' and the other young men were 
 cracking jokes, and bandying mock com- 
 pliments with the captain and the piper. 
 " Come, Denny," said the captain,
 
 64 THE GRAXVTLLES. 
 
 " make fast your tongue tliere ; let go the 
 main brace, and square the yards ; and let 
 the breeze fill the canvas. Now, Denny, 
 for the sake of old times, give us the 
 * Twisting of the rope.' " 
 
 " Bravo, captain," exclaimed Harry ; 
 " Denny is the boy that will do it justice ; 
 and there can be no doubt that justice will 
 not forget returning himself the compli- 
 ment some time or other before his music 
 is all forgotten, and will twist the rojpe for 
 him in the presence of a large party of 
 admiring friends." 
 
 " Ah, Masther Harry " replied the piper, 
 '' I don't know a gallow's rope between 
 Donaghada and Bantry Head that would 
 refuse your four bones ; if 'twas only for 
 the sake of example to the risin' genera- 
 tion. Be my word, you'd make a hand- 
 some picture shakin' in the wind of a May 
 mornin'. Hows'ever, here goes ;" and he 
 commenced tuning his pipes. He played 
 the *' Twisting of the Eope ; " and followed 
 it up, with a merr}^, rattling jig, to which 
 he kept time with the movements of his 
 head, and the rolling of his one eye,
 
 THE GEANVILLES. G5 
 
 occasionally lifting the chanter, and point- 
 ing it towards Harry; until he closed 
 the rhapsody with a sudden jerk, and a 
 wlioo-o-o that rang along the roof. 
 
 *' There, Harry, my nut-cracker," he 
 exclaimed, " what do you say to that ? " 
 
 " Good, very good, indeed," replied 
 Harry. *' I'll become a witness to character 
 for you, before the judge puts on the black 
 cap, and while the rope is being greased." 
 
 *' Ha, ha, you gaol-bird," was the 
 rejoinder. 
 
 To give Denny his merit, he was cer- 
 tainly an admirable performer on his 
 favourite instrument. He played with 
 great skill, taste, and spirit, especially in 
 that department of his art which embraced 
 the dancing tunes then in vogue among 
 the Irish peasantry, as well as the old 
 planxties, and airs of a bygone era. In 
 this twofold department he had none to 
 surpass him in the whole country side ; and 
 he w^as, therefore, very generally employed 
 in discoursing sweet music, not only by the 
 peasantry at their weddings, and parties, 
 and dances on the green, but also by the 
 
 VOL. I. 1'
 
 6id THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 gentry throughout a large area of the 
 country around. 
 
 In the meantime, the ladies having par- 
 taken of Nelly's taij, and put themselves 
 in order for the dance, issued forth into the 
 kitchen ; and the evening's programme was 
 proceeded with. 
 
 It must be observed here, that the captain 
 was an accomplished dancer, and was 
 acquainted with some of those fashionable 
 dances which had then been recently intro- 
 duced among the more respectable classes 
 in the rural districts. He, therefore, gave 
 lessons, sometimes at his own cottage, and 
 sometimes at the houses of the country 
 squires, to such as required his services in 
 that way. 
 
 This was, then, one of his terpsichorean 
 assemblies ; and he proceeded with the 
 business of the evening. Miss Fanny took 
 her lesson first, in a waltz ; then Miss Julia, 
 in the same dance ; and afterwards the 
 four ladies went through the process of 
 instruction in a quadrille. After this the 
 ladies joined the gentlemen in a cotillion ; 
 at which all manifested equal expertness.
 
 THE GRAXVILLES. Q7 
 
 facing, crossing, and turning, witli a rol- 
 licking alacrity and spirit tliat was truly 
 exhilarating^. 
 
 At tlie conclusion, tlie ladies retired with 
 Xelly to the bedroom, to resume their hats 
 and cloaks, as they thought it now time to 
 prepare for home. The gentlemen, how- 
 ever, expressed an unanimous desire that 
 the captain should favour them with a 
 hornpipe, to which he manifested no 
 reluctance, and Denny at once struck 
 lip " Murphy's Hornpipe." The captain 
 bowed to the gentlemen ; moved slowly 
 forward and backward on the floor, with 
 a lofty air of self-consciousness as to the 
 superiority with which he was about to 
 perform the dance ; and at length flung 
 himself into an attitude of earnest action. 
 He hopped around, now on one leg, and 
 now another in balanced unison with the 
 strain ; and returned in the same circle 
 with increasing ardour : he then dashed in 
 towards the centre, and facing the piper, 
 pounded the floor, like a drum, for a few 
 seconds, at the end of which he sprang into 
 the air, and came down spinning on his 
 p 2
 
 68 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 heels. He sprang up again, and again 
 pounded tlie floor as before ; tlien flung 
 himself to one side, back again ; down on 
 one knee, up again ; struck the sole of one 
 foot with his palm ; then the other ; and 
 thus he continued in varied movement, 
 now on a right line, now on a curve, sway- 
 ing, kneeling, whirling, pounding for the 
 space of ten or fifteen minutes ; while the 
 ladies, who had come out to witness the 
 performance, looked on with delight ; the 
 gentlemen approved and clapped ; and the 
 piper whoo-ood in unbounded transport. 
 
 At length the exhibition was concluded ; 
 ''good night;" ''a lamb's rest;" and 
 " pleasant dreams to you all," were ex- 
 changed between the several parties ; and 
 the visitors retired : ail but the piper, who 
 remained for the night, as was sometimes 
 his wont on such occasions. 
 
 The captain and hiaiself were old and 
 early friends ; and so they occ asionally 
 spent a night together, that is, when Denny 
 was not otherwise engaged ; and when his 
 mother, with whom he resided below in 
 the glen, for Denny was a ^' single boy,"
 
 THE GPvANVILLES. G9 
 
 as himself would say, was '' easy in her 
 mind about liim." 
 
 The company having gone, and every- 
 thing being set in order, Nelly, according 
 to instruction from the captain, laid a 
 bottle of whisky on the table, and placing 
 two tumblers and a bowl of sugar beside 
 it, took a small skillet from the hob, and 
 pouring its contents of hot water into an 
 earthen jug, placed the latter vessel also 
 upon the table. 
 
 '' Come, Denny, let us have a sober 
 glass together. The world goes round ; 
 but you and I will stick together in friend- 
 ship and love while the breath remains 
 in our bodies, please God. I'll mix for 
 you." 
 
 The two friends sat together at the table, 
 the sconce, or lamp which was fastened to 
 the wall, flinging its soft light upon their 
 countenances ; while Nelly, who had seated 
 herself on a box near the chimney, was 
 engaged mending a stocking. 
 
 " Well, in troth, 'tis queer," she said, in 
 alow voice, as if talking to herself; "I 
 never seen the like; never, never."
 
 70 THE GEANYILLES. 
 
 "Wliat is it, Nelly?" said the piper, 
 looking round towards lier. 
 
 " Oil, notliin', only about a dhrame, 
 Dinny." 
 
 '' Well," observed the piper, '' dlirames, 
 they say, go by conthraries : I hope 
 'twasn't about a weddin' : that 'ud be the 
 sign of a funeral. And 'twould be bad to 
 dhrame about a cat, or a magpie, or the 
 like of that. By my throth, Nelly — to tell 
 you the honest bint of my mind — I don't set 
 much value on dhrames at all. They're 
 nothin' here or there ; 'tis only the ramblin' 
 of the brain when the stomach is too 
 hard set to aise itself, and sind the blood 
 whisperin' soft through the veins. Hows' - 
 ever, some believes in 'um, and some don't ; 
 I am not all shure of it myself." 
 
 ''That's good," observed the captain; 
 '' but after all we may say or think, Denny, 
 there is something in those drames, — at 
 laste in some of 'um. That's my opinion. 
 But, after all, I'm no judge, and none of 
 ns is a judge in things of this sort: be- 
 cause why? because, you see, there is a 
 great dale of book knowledge necessary
 
 THE GEANYrLLES. ' 71 
 
 for a man to imdherstand some things, 
 especially things of this sort. Mother wit 
 is not enough; that's very well in one way, 
 but it's not enough, nor like enough in 
 unravelin' what I may call mystheries of 
 science, I heard Father Markham sayin' 
 the same words — and who can go beyond 
 Father Markham? But I like to hear 
 dhrames tould myself; for someway or 
 other, they're simj^le like, and just as if 
 God — blessed be His holy name — was 
 puttin' things before a person to warn us, 
 and put us on our guard." 
 
 " \Vell," said Denny, " that's all fair 
 and sthraight, John Gorman, and there's 
 no contradictin' what you said about 
 Father Markham, since, of course, no one 
 knows betther than him how things goes 
 in th' other world, and in this too ; but 
 still and all those priests — and I spake wid 
 raverance of their names — still and all, 
 they don't want to tell you or me, or the 
 likes of us, everything that consarns the 
 business of th' other world. All that's of 
 id, we're bound to do what they tell us, 
 but .we •can't inquire too far. That's my
 
 72 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 vardld ; " and raising tlie tumbler from 
 the table, '' Here's God bless us all, and 
 may we never forget our duty to God and 
 man. Your health, Nelly," he said ; and 
 then expressed his wish to hear her dream. 
 
 Nelly thus commenced, still plying her 
 needle : — 
 
 " Well, of all nights in the year, 'twas the 
 day that Misther Moore gave the thrate to 
 the boys and girls after they finished the 
 reek near the big orchard ; — and a line 
 day it was, and plenty of eatin' and 
 drinkin' w^as there: and shure enough Paddy 
 Larkin was in his elemints ; 'twould do 
 your heart good to see himself and Anty 
 Dreelin batin id out on the lawn, and 
 Masther Harry a playing on the fiddle for 
 'em. And when they finished the last 
 step, ^ Come, Nelly,' said the ould masther, 
 ' you and I must have a turn on the floor.' 
 Well, Dinny, in all your born days you 
 never seen that man that was in spirits 
 like the ould masther that day. ' Come, 
 Nelly,' says he to me, — and so he tuck 
 myself by the waist, and says he to Masther 
 Harry, ' Take up that vilin, you 3^oung
 
 THE GKAXVILLES. (6 
 
 shkamp, and give Nelly and myself tlie 
 *' Humours of Glin." ' Well, I was so 
 'shamed, I couldn't see the grass on the 
 lawn, and everyone was laughin' and 
 hurrawin' for the ould gintleman and 
 myself. Hows'ever, we turned out, and 
 Masther Harry struck up the ' Humours of 
 Glin.' And if th' ould masther didn't 
 cut capers, and shake himself, my name is 
 not Nelly Corkoran. Every one clapped 
 and shouted ; and myself ran away behind 
 the girls, when th' ould rogne — Grod pardon 
 me — was trying to catch me. Well, that 
 night, when I wint to bed I began dhramin ' ; 
 and what d'ye think appeared to me? As 
 shure as I'm here I thought 'twas in ^ 
 Eairborough Park I was, and there was 
 all the ladies and gintlemen in grand car- 
 riages rowlin' along afore the Coort, and 
 down the fields, and pipers and fiddlers 
 playin' as hard as ever they could, and 
 more ladies and gintlemen dancin' in the 
 demesne in another place, and all laughin' 
 and cheerin' and as funny as ever you see. 
 And what did I see but all the carriages 
 turned of a sudden into hearses, and black
 
 /4 THE GPiANYlLLES. 
 
 plumes hanging about 'em ; and crjin' 
 and bawlin', enough to soften your heart. 
 But who was there, d'ye think ? God 
 presarve 'em from all hurt and harm this 
 night, I pray. — Ye'd never think? No 
 less than Masther Herbert Granville and 
 Miss Fanny Moore. There's for ye : — and 
 she lyin' out in a corpse, the Lord save us, 
 and everyone cryin' and grievin' for the 
 sweet flower that was cut down in her 
 bloom. And meetin' Peggy Cummins in 
 the purcession, says I to her, ' Peggy 
 machree,' says I, ' what come over her, or 
 how did it happen at all, and she so young 
 and fair, and sperited, and stout, and 
 strong ? but none of us is shure of the day 
 nor the hour that the good God may call 
 on us. And poor Masther Herbert ! ' says I, 
 ' Peggy, what'll come of Mm ? I pity 'im 
 in my heart. See how pale and sorrow- 
 ful he's lookin'. Oh, Masther Herbert ! 
 Masther Herbert ! if there was one in the 
 world that loved another in the heart 
 widin', 'twas you that doated on Miss 
 Fanny, the darlin' lady. And now she 'is 
 gone from you, what'll become of you ? "
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 75 
 
 And tliere myself and Peggy sat down 
 under a tree cryin' and wailin' — but wliat 
 d'ye think ? — all of a sudden tlie sun blazed 
 out in the shky, and sich beautiful light ye 
 never see as began shinin' and sparklin' 
 all over the demense and round about 
 everywhere ; and the hearses turned into 
 carriages, and the funeral into a pattern, 
 and there was music and dancin', and all 
 sorts of merriment goin' on, and Masther 
 Herbert and Miss Fanny in the middle of 
 'em, the most beautiful couple ever your 
 eyes looked on. And up they came to 
 myself and Peggy : and we jumped up wid 
 the joy; — and, Lord save me! I struck 
 my head agin the bed-post, and woke 
 up." 
 
 " Hee-e-e ! hee-e-e ! " ejaculated Denny, 
 as he threw himself back in his chair^ and 
 gave vent to a prolonged laugh. 
 
 " Be the powders of war, Nelly," he said 
 at length, " you had a hard tussle of it. 
 And what do you make out of it now ? 
 Pm thinkin' 'twould take the wisest men 
 that ever was in Egypt to explain that 
 dhrame. AYell, at any rate,'' rising as he
 
 76 THE GRANVILLE?. 
 
 spoke, and extend ing his arm with a long- 
 drawn aspiration, ''I'm for a good, sound 
 sleep now. What's your will, captain ? " 
 
 "I'm for the same," replied the captain, 
 and both gentlemen retired into the front 
 bed-room, leaving Nelly to tidy everything 
 for the night. Nelly shortly afterwards 
 followed the example of her companions, 
 and all was soon silent in the Glazement,
 
 T]TE GRANVILLES. 77 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE GEANVILLES — HERBEET LOST IN 
 SPECULATION. 
 
 Perhaps tliere is nothing in all the per- 
 plexing changes and evolutions of life that 
 is more trying and painful than the sudden 
 descent from circumstances of affluence 
 and luxury to a state of* comparative 
 poverty and want. 
 
 Here the mind and feelings become to a 
 certain extent paralyzed ; and deprived of 
 their usual sustaining influences by the 
 unexpected stroke of fortune, they collapse 
 into such a state of helplessness and dismay 
 as renders them wholly powerless in pur- 
 pose and action. It is not that the accus- 
 tomed comforts and indulgences are with- 
 drawn from the sufferer in this retrograde 
 destinv; it is not that he has fallen upon
 
 78 THE GRANVTLLES. 
 
 rouglier ground, and is obliged to plod his 
 way tlirougli tangled and thorny paths 
 from which his better providence had 
 hitherto saved him, it is not all this that 
 constitutes the sorrow and the bitterness 
 and the pain of his altered situation ; oh 
 no, there is a something else that goes 
 deeper, and sharper, and more excruciating 
 into his existence, that pierces and stings 
 and lacerates his very being, that scars 
 his heart and blasts his brain ; it is this, 
 that the sympathies and affections of the 
 soul undergo a recoil, which is followed by 
 a wasting and desolation of the heart that 
 rob life of i^ charms and darken and 
 sadden its whole atmosphere. That 
 pure gushing fountain of affection which 
 God's own living touch called forth in 
 the deep recesses of the heart is checked, 
 and chilled, and frozen ; it is driven back- 
 ward in its soft sweet flow of friendship, 
 of tenderness and of love, and made to 
 recoil and darken, and thicken around its 
 centre, stopping up the orifices of the 
 heart, and overwhelming it in darkness 
 and in misery.
 
 THE GRANVILLE S. 79 
 
 It is true that there are to be found those 
 who do not frown upon the sorrows of the 
 poor and the unfortunate ; but who, on 
 the contrary, open their bosoms in sympa- 
 thetic response to their woes and disap- 
 pointments, and, thank God, it is so ; but 
 society so called, the taste, the fashion, the 
 wealth, the grandeur — the great ruling 
 circle of civilized life, — here it is that the 
 children of misfortune are hustled from 
 the scene, and sent back to fret, and sigh, 
 and mourn in the dark corners of their 
 isolation and neglect. "Who is there that 
 has not witnessed at one time or another, 
 in the course of his or her life, if that life 
 has been prolonged to any considerable 
 extent, the coldness and neglect which have 
 marked the conduct and bearing of indi- 
 viduals towards those who have fallen into 
 poverty through the vagaries of fortune; 
 but who, while the sun of prosperity had 
 shone upon their pathway, were courted, 
 and caressed, and idolized by those same 
 individuals. It is then this repulsion, this 
 laceration of the tender affections of the 
 heart which gives to the blow of ad-
 
 80 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 versitj its darkest and deadliest effect. 
 Everytliing can be borne but that ; 
 poverty, hardsliip, toil, all the various in- 
 conveniences and disadvantages accruing 
 from a state of dependence and struggle 
 are endurable, but neglect and contempt 
 sit heavily on the heart, and crush all its 
 vital energies. 
 
 But it may be said that patience and 
 fortitude, which are attributes of the soul, 
 and happily infused into it by the all- wise 
 Architect of the human economy, are suf- 
 ficient to counteract the evils here spoken 
 of, and to convert them even into sources 
 of contentment and peace. Doubtless 
 this is true, for God " tempers the wind to 
 the shorn lamb ;" but yet, in regarding 
 the conditions of society, and the arbitrary 
 laws, wise or unwise as they may happen 
 to be, which it imposes on its members 
 and its votaries, the punishment which it 
 inflicts on the victims of variable fortune 
 are difficult to be borne, and it is the 
 living and active Spirit of the divine in- 
 fluence alone that can mitigate the severity 
 of that punishment, and reconcile its
 
 THE GEAXVILLKS. 81 
 
 objects to tlieir altered circumstances. 
 The poor labouring classes, that is, those 
 wliose lot lias been early thrown amid the 
 hardships and trials of life, who bave been 
 born, as it were, to '' earn tlieir bread in 
 the sweat of tbeir brow," tbose are enabled 
 from habitude and special adaptation to 
 meet the rude storms of eveiyday life 
 without feeling any great degree of mental 
 or bodily disturbance ; within their own 
 proper s]3liere they may experience all the 
 comfort and happiness arising from an easy 
 mind, and a heart sustained and strength- 
 ened by the sympathies around them. 
 But to such as have been born in a loftier 
 sphere, and whose feelings and affections 
 have been matured therein ; and who have 
 afterwards fallen by the stroke of adversity 
 down to another sphere, where a different 
 set of accidents and circumstances await 
 them, the transition is dreadful, and the 
 suffering intense in the highest degree. 
 
 All this, however, must, and can be en- 
 dured, for Providence ever mingles the cup 
 of bitterness with a proportion of honey 
 that renders the draught bearable ; but 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 82 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 yet the sudden plunge from one tempera- 
 ture of fortune to another much lower 
 and colder cannot in the very nature of 
 the human constitution but be attended 
 with exquisite suffering. In many cases 
 this change proves fatal ; in many cases, 
 too, it is followed by no very distressing 
 results, and we may undertake to say that 
 in many cases it may be attended with 
 ultimate beneficial consequences ; but in 
 no case can it possibly occur without great 
 immediate suffering. 
 
 Such is the nature of man, such is the 
 nature of society ; from the combined in- 
 fluences of both, the heart and mind equally 
 suffer in the wreck of fortune. And this 
 suffering is of a character different from 
 anything that may arise in the lives of 
 the ordinary poor, and far more intense. 
 
 The influence of religion, no doubt, 
 restores peace to the sufferer and smoothes 
 the path of affliction, and it is the only in- 
 fluence that can effect this ; but in order to 
 avail of the services of this sweet comforter 
 of the human heart, she must be wooed 
 and won in the hour when fortune smiles,
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 83 
 
 and not sought for merely wlien the gloom 
 of calamity has spread over life's scene, 
 and the light of enjoyment has faded from 
 it, it may be, for ever. Eeligion invoked 
 then, may not answer to the call, the heart 
 may close its portals against the inspi- 
 ration that can alone draw her down from 
 her throne on high; and then, abandoned 
 and wrecked, forlorn and desolate, the un- 
 happy wretch sinks amid the dark and 
 pitiless waves of adversity. 
 
 But in the midst of all this desolation 
 of altered fortune, when the sympathy of 
 friends wanes into indiif erence and neglect, 
 when the light of social feeling fades into 
 the darkness of exclusion, and when all that 
 was once consoling, complimentary, and 
 flattering has disappeared like sunshine 
 from the scene, there is one steady change- 
 less light burning through the gloom, and 
 sending out its soft and mellow radiance 
 to cheer the stricken wanderer's way, and 
 that is the light of woman's love. No 
 matter how fiercely fortune may deal out 
 her blows to the wretched sufferer — no 
 matter how deep his wounds, how dark 
 G 2 ,
 
 84 THE GRANVILLE S. 
 
 his sorrows, how hopeless his fate ; no 
 matter bj whom forsaken and despised ; 
 the heart of woman offers him an asylum, 
 and sheds hope and comfort, and healing 
 in his path. And how strange is all this ! 
 Is there not a divinity breathing in this 
 extraordinary and wonderful sympathy 
 which the heart of woman feels and exer- 
 cises towards him she loves? When all 
 forsake him; when heaven itself would 
 seem to have closed its portals against 
 him, when nothing save desolation and 
 despair encompass him on every side ; then, 
 oh then, comes out from the clouds this 
 angel of light, spreads the wiags of hei* 
 love over and around him, recalls him from 
 his sorrows, and poursbalminto his wounds. 
 Is this not a divinity ? If it be a divinity 
 — and surely it is — what then is religion ? 
 Is love religion ? God is love ; and the 
 worship of God is love. 
 
 We shall now turn our attention to the 
 Granvilles, and trace, in as few words as 
 the nature of the subject will permit us, 
 the outline of the history of that family. 
 George Granville, the head of the family,
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 85 
 
 wlio liad been dead for some time previous to 
 tlie commencement of our stor j, was a man 
 of lionourable descent, as well as of honour- 
 able conduct, though not distinguished in 
 the management of his affairs by any great 
 amount of prudence or of foresight. In 
 fact, he was a most improvident man. 
 His conduct, it is true, though improvident 
 and careless, was not that of a man who 
 was indifferent to the interests of his 
 family, or who rested satisfied with pro- 
 curing his own gratifications while in this 
 vale of tears, but not unwilling to allow 
 his children to sink or swim after he had 
 himself passed away from the enjoyments 
 and pleasures of life. N'o, he had com- 
 bined in his character two traits which 
 appeared not a little contradictory, he was 
 fond of his ease and comfort, and spared 
 no expense to ensure them ; while, at the 
 same time, he felt anxiety — indeed, the 
 only anxiety he ever seemed to feel — that 
 his children should be independent and 
 happy after him, and with this view he was 
 ever planning and devising new schemes 
 for the improvement and enlargement of
 
 86 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 his property, but never putting those 
 schemes into operation. In plain terms, 
 he was a busy, idle man, fond of himself, 
 and fond of his family, but never advancing 
 the prosperity of either. 
 
 He had inherited considerable property 
 in land from his father; which, though 
 not a fee-simple property, was yet a secure 
 inheritance, and a source of unfailing 
 revenue, if only attended to and managed 
 with ordinary care and attention. This 
 property, which was let, or sub-let rather, 
 for as we have said, it was not held 
 in fee by the Granvilles, to some twenty 
 or thirty tenants, brought in an income of 
 some fifteen hundred pounds a year, 
 clear of the rent charge of the first pro- 
 prietor or owner, Lord Milford, an absentee 
 landlord. Indeed his lordship probably 
 never knew clearly that he had any claim at 
 all upon those lands whence the Granvilles 
 derived their chief income ; inasmuch as 
 he had never seen them, perhaps never 
 heard of them, and most certainly never 
 troubled himself about them. He had one 
 chief agent over his whole property, which
 
 THE GRANVILLE S. 87 
 
 lay in different parts of the country, and 
 from him he received every half year a 
 certain amount of rental, without troubling 
 himself about the ^Darticular lands that 
 produced it, or the accounts which were 
 connected with it. This agent of his, one 
 Bartholomew, or Bartley Croker, managed 
 the property and tenantry as it seemed well 
 to him ; and Lord Milford felt satisfied that 
 everything was as it ouglit to be. Besides 
 the townland of Gurthroo, from wliicli 
 Georo^e Granville derived the revenue we 
 have mentioned, he held a small piece of 
 land on the estate of Fairborough, contain- 
 ing a beautiful mansion, lawn, gardens, 
 and sheep walks, on which he resided. 
 For this he paid an adequate rent to the 
 Earl of Fairborough, who was a resident 
 nobleman, and one who differed almost in 
 every respect from his brother peer. Lord 
 Milford. In addition to all this, Georo^e 
 Granville derived a nice income from a 
 small property owned by his wife, who was 
 the daughter of a gentleman residing in a 
 neighbouring county. So that altogether 
 his circumstances were independent, and
 
 88 THE GKANVILLES. 
 
 such as promised a fair prospect of inde- 
 pendence and happiness to his descendants. 
 But, as we have said, he was a man of 
 strange contradictions ; he loved his ease, 
 and he loved his pleasures ; and although 
 he loved his wife and children too, he 
 never could accommodate himself to the 
 only rational mode of practicallj manifest- 
 ing that love. That is, to husband his 
 means, and so secure the permanence of 
 his income as to render it a jDerpetual 
 fountain for their use and enjoyment. 
 No, he could not acquire, under any 
 change of events, or from any example of 
 experience throughout his career, the 
 simple knowledge contained in the common 
 phrase which was so often on his own 
 
 lips,— 
 
 " Be wise and beware, 
 Of blessings take care." 
 
 He raced, he hunted, he gave great dinner- 
 parties, he drank, he kept a pack of 
 harriers — in short, he did everything that 
 was done by everybody else in his station, 
 without regard to means or results, but 
 from the sole motive of leading what he
 
 THE GRAXVILLES. 80 
 
 called au '' easy life," and of being as " good 
 as his neighbours." This was bad enough, 
 but even this mio^ht be borne to a o-reat ex- 
 tent, if due attention had been paid to the in- 
 terests of his property. This property, that 
 is, the land of Gurthroo, might be greatly 
 enhanced in value if he only devoted a little 
 expenditure to its improvement. It con- 
 sisted, in great part, of hilly and marshy 
 land, which, if judiciously manipulated, 
 would increase in value nearly twofold. 
 But this he would not trouble himself with ; 
 he wished to live " at his ease, and make his 
 family comfortable." This was his mode 
 of reasonino^: this was the sort of vas^ue 
 idea he possessed of happiness. He felt 
 " at ease " when hunting and racing, or 
 drinking and carousing; but to plan and 
 oversee the improvement of his property 
 would be a trouble altogether incompatible 
 with his view of what constituted " ease." 
 Bartley Croker, the chief agent of Lord 
 Milford, however, soon brought him to his 
 senses, and showed him the value of living 
 at his ease. This man, who had formerly 
 been a practising attorney, and who, as the
 
 90 THE GIJANVILLES. 
 
 tenantry used to say, was a matcli for tlie 
 devil — indeed he went by tlie sobriquet of 
 " Bartley the devil " — was very forbearing 
 towards George Granville, as regarded the 
 collection of the rent charge on the lands 
 of Gurthroo. He never troubled him about 
 it in fact ; but on the contrary, whenever 
 Granville referred to it at their convivial 
 meetings, Bartley would pooh-pooh the 
 whole thing as not worth mentioning. 
 " Don't mention it, Granville, my dear 
 fellow," he would say, " 'tis all right ; 
 the fact of the matter is, I question 
 whether there is any claim upon you 
 at all. At all events, never trouble your- 
 self about it ; I'll manage all that for 
 you." 
 
 ''Yes, Croker," Granville would say, "I 
 have often reflected upon that myself, and 
 I must say that in the main I agree with 
 you. It is, and ever has been, a question 
 with me, whether or not my ancestors 
 possessed a prior claim to the property — 
 ay before the name of Milford was known. 
 But, however that may be, I don't care to 
 trouble myself about it ; I feel as indepen-
 
 THE GRAXVILLES. 91 
 
 dent a man as Lord Milford himself — yes, 
 and by tlie great C^sar," slapping his 
 clenched hand upon the table, " I can boast 
 a longer line of honourable'descent than any 
 Milford that ever rose from the ashes of 
 his country." 
 
 ** I have always said so," would be the 
 rejoinder, *' and more than that, I have 
 ever contended that, if the matter were 
 well examined into, your prior right to the 
 inberitance of Garthroo could be estab- 
 lished beyond a cavil. But, look here, my 
 dear sir, it is not for me to exjDress publicly 
 — you understand me — opinions of this 
 sort. I have a duty to discharge to my 
 principal ; and that I shall fulfil to the 
 letter ; but in your case, my advise is sub 
 rosa, of course, never trouble yourself with 
 the payment of that rent charge. My 
 Lord Milford himself is quite conscious of 
 the dubious nature of his claim ; and, 
 depend upon it, he does not desire to stir 
 up litigation upon those points." 
 
 In such manner would this crafty and 
 tmscrupulous agent act upon the indolence 
 and vanity of Granville and lull him into
 
 92 THE GRA^^YILLES. 
 
 an oblivion of what related to liis duty and 
 his interests. The consequences of all this 
 must appear very evident. George Gran- 
 ville allowed the Gurthroo property to run 
 into arrear, until the amount was such as 
 rendered it impossible for him, in view of 
 his other liabilities, to meet it ; and, con- 
 sequently, in the course of not many years, 
 the crash came which reduced the Gran- 
 ville family from a state of independence 
 and of luxury to comparative poverty and 
 destitution. 
 
 Bartley the Devil had waited his oppor- 
 tunity until the accumulation of arrears was 
 such as to ensure success to his design, and 
 then he struck quick and hard. The lease of 
 Gurthroo was transferred to him by Lord 
 Milford, with a small rise of course in the 
 rent, but still it was merely nominal. 
 Ash Grove, the residence of the Granvilles, 
 became for a time the abode of keepers, 
 bailiffs, and proctors. Mrs. Granville's 
 dowry, which consisted of the profit rent 
 of a property bequeathed to her by her 
 father, in a neighbouring county, as already 
 referred to, was also embraced within the
 
 THE GEAXVILLES. 93 
 
 grasp of the law ; and ruin and desolation 
 sat cowering on the rooftree of a once 
 wealthy, independent, and happy family. 
 Lord Fairborough, however, in accordance 
 with his kindly nature, dealt considerately 
 and gently with the family. He forgave 
 them all the arrears of rent due to him on 
 the Ash Grove property; and otherwise 
 aided and relieved them under the pressure 
 of their distress. Xot so with the attorney 
 agent, he took his pound of flesh ; lie had no 
 mercy ; he was implacable ; he was acting 
 for his emploj^er, he said (the same em- 
 ployer was out of the country, and knew 
 nothing of the event beyond his agent's 
 version of it, and that was honest, no 
 doubt) ; he understood the rights of pro- 
 perty, and would maintain them ; and so 
 he seized, and clutched, and sold everythiug 
 that he could lay hand upon. But George 
 Granville was in an ocean of debt ; from 
 year to year he had borrowed large sums 
 of money to maintain his sporting extrava- 
 gance ; his betting losses alone amounted 
 to several thousands, and all those sums 
 had been borrowed. Such then was the
 
 04} THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 ultimate result of that ''easy *' life wliicli 
 lie had prided himself on passing ; a life, 
 bj-the-bye, which so far from being 
 *'easy," was one of the most harassing 
 and tumultuous, and floundering that it 
 was possible to conceive. He now, feeling 
 a little depressed, as he would say — this 
 depression was despair — began to attach 
 himself with unusual ardour to the whisky 
 bottle ; until after a few years of drinking, 
 and sleeping, and moping, he passed away 
 from the scenes of his folly and his impro- 
 vidence, leaving his family of two sons and 
 a daughter, with their poor afflicted 
 mother, to bewail their unhappy lot. But, 
 to do justice to the memory of the unhappy 
 man, some short time before death had 
 come to him, he opened his eyes to the 
 magnitude of the follies and wrongs he 
 had committed ; he became repentant, he 
 wept for his wife and children, whose at- 
 tentions to his declining health and to his 
 comfort were constant and loving. And 
 when the final moment came, his last words 
 as he expired in their arms, were — '' Kate 
 — my children — pardon, pardon — love me
 
 THE GPxANVILLES. 95 
 
 — Gocl ! my God, mercy — have pity on — 
 them." 
 
 After this sad termination of a reckless 
 and improvident career, the widow and 
 children endeavoured, as far as circum- 
 stances enabled them, to make their present 
 condition bearable. They were greatly 
 assisted in this by the kindhearted. bene- 
 volence of Lord and Lady Fairborough, 
 who not only frequently visited them, but 
 did them such other acts of kindness, and 
 in so delicate and considerate a manner, too, 
 as greatly lightened the burthen of their 
 calamity, and strengthened them to a re- 
 newal of exertion in their now contracted 
 and difficult sphere. Of the three surviving 
 children of George Granville, two, Herbert 
 and Julia, had finished their education in 
 the seminaries of the neighbouring city of 
 Cushport ; and the other, George, who was 
 called after his father, and was about 
 twelve yeEirs of age, had up to a recent 
 period attended a school in the village, 
 and was now about being placed under the 
 tuition of a gentleman who taught a class 
 composed of the sons of the neighbouring
 
 96 THK GRANVILLES'. 
 
 gentry in a villa close by ; the intention 
 being to have him prepared for the study 
 of the medical profession. Herbert pos- 
 sessed a high order of talents, and had 
 greatly distinguished himself at college. 
 He was high up in the mathematical 
 sciences ; and his classical attainments as 
 well as his intimate knowledge of some of 
 the languages of Europe^ gave a depth 
 and richness, as well as a polish and 
 brilliancy to his mind, which rendered him 
 one of the most accomplished gentlemen 
 in his county. 
 
 Julia also was highly educated ; not 
 only was she acquainted with music and 
 the languages of Italy and France, but 
 what is of far superior importance — in- 
 deed of the highest importance as a 
 subject of true and genuine education — 
 she was thoroughly imbued with the prin- 
 ciples of the Christian religion, and with 
 a knowledge of the duties of life. She 
 was besides a lady of active habits ; and 
 intelligent and judicious in the manage- 
 ment of domestic matters. 
 
 Mrs. Granville was, at the time of
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 97 
 
 wliicb we write, greatly broken down in 
 mind and body, but yet her fine natural 
 cliaracter was visible through the clouded 
 atmosphere that surrounded her; and 
 young George, though yet in the bud of 
 life, showed unmistakable symptoms of the 
 prominent characteristics of the family. 
 
 There lived with the family at this time, 
 and for many years previously, an old gen- 
 tleman, brother of Mrs. Granville, whose 
 name was Benjamin Brown, or '' Uncle 
 Ben," as he was familiarly called in the 
 household. He was her second eldest 
 brother, and had never married. He had 
 a small income derived from property 
 left him by his father, with whom he had 
 lived until the death of the latter ; after 
 • this event he removed from the old family 
 residence, which had now" come into the 
 possession of his eldest brother and his 
 children, to Ash Grove, the residence of 
 the Granvilles. 
 
 Uncle Ben was a good and amiable 
 man, and was very much attached to his 
 sister, Mrs. Granville, as well as to his 
 nephews and niece. He was fond of 
 
 VOL. I. n
 
 98 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 liunting and shooting, but after tlie 
 calamity that had befallen the family he 
 gave up these sports, and turned his 
 whole attention to the management of the 
 few acres which surrounded the mansion of 
 Ash Grove. 
 
 In point of fact, if it were not for Uncle 
 Een, it would be difficult to see how the 
 family could now get on. Ho bustled 
 about, and inspected and superintended 
 everything ; and was the greatest possible 
 support to the spirits and hopes of every 
 one. He was a fine, portly, cheerful man, 
 with a noble and benevolent countenance, 
 over which a ripple of discontent scarcely 
 ever passed. He had a brother, of whom 
 he often spoke with great affection and 
 admiration. He was next to himself, and 
 a year or two younger ; but he had been 
 away in Canada for many years, where he 
 had settled upon some lands which the 
 Government had bestowed upon him in 
 consideration of his services as a British 
 officer. He frequently communicated with 
 him ; and kept him posted up on the 
 principal events that were transpiring in
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 99 
 
 the '' Old land of St. Patrick," as lie would 
 say, but especially in all matters that 
 affected the '' old stock." 
 
 One evening, a few months before the 
 commencement of our storv, as he sat in 
 the parlour in his old brown leather arm- 
 chair, while Mrs. Granville, Julia, and 
 Herbert were seated around the table, oc- 
 cupied in reading and conversation, he 
 turned round, taking his pipe from his 
 mouth, and leisurely emitting a long line 
 of blue smoke into the air, and addressing 
 Herbert, said, — 
 
 " Herbert, I have received a letter from 
 brother Fehx to-day ; I forgot telling you 
 before ; — but I don't know that I have 
 seen you to-day before." 
 
 '' Upon my word you have, uncle, for I 
 was in the back meadow with you in the 
 morning, looking at the grass, and talking 
 about the prospect of the hay-crop." 
 
 '' Oh, to be sure," said Uncle Ben, '' so 
 you were — confound it, how things do 
 sometimes slip from my memory. But 
 then, I hadn't received the letter at that 
 time : it was only about four o'clock in 
 H 2
 
 100 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 the afternoon I received it. Well, wliat 
 do you think the old major says ? — not 
 that he is very old either ; for, confound it, 
 I'm not old, and he is a year or two younger. 
 How years do j>s.ss to be sure ! JSFow, 
 when I was a young man, that is, about 
 your age, or a little older — you are not 
 much over eighteen ; for Julia won't be 
 seventeen until next August, and you are 
 only eighteen months older than her ; what 
 would that leave you ? I can't calculate 
 it precisely myself." 
 
 Herbert and the ladies laughed ; but 
 Uncle Ben continued, — 
 
 " I should say, according to my calcu- 
 lation, that that would leave you eighteen 
 years and two months." 
 
 Herbert and Julia burst into another fit 
 of laughter ; but Mrs. Granville looked a 
 little puzzled. 
 
 ''Yes," continued Uncle Ben, "this is 
 June, and from this to August are two 
 months, that is it; so that you are then 
 exactly eighteen years and two months." 
 
 *' Well, really," observed Mrs. Granville, 
 '' that looks like it, but still it cannot be
 
 THE GKAXVILLES. 101 
 
 correct, for Herbert was born on the 12tli 
 of February; so that if he were only 
 eighteen years and two months now, he 
 must not have been born until April ; so 
 there must be a mistake somewhere, Ben," 
 and she smiled. 
 
 The young people again burst out into 
 immoderate laughter, while Uncle Ben and 
 Mrs. Granville looked at each other with a 
 puzzled but smiling expression of coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 " Xow, mamma," said Julia, ''you can- 
 not be in earnest," the tears still rolling 
 from her eves from the lauo-liter, ''vou 
 cannot be serious, mamma, surely ! " 
 
 '' How serious, dear ? " observed Mrs. 
 Granville. '' I am quite sure that the 12th 
 of February is Herbert's birthday; I 
 don't make any mistake in that; and I 
 cannot, therefore, see why you should 
 take me up, my dear; but I do confess 
 that I cannot still make out that Herbert's 
 age now is only eighteen years and two 
 months, for assuredly on the 12th of 
 August next you will be seventeen and he 
 will be eiofhteen and a half."
 
 102 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 *' Well now, mamma," broke in Her- 
 bert, '' don't you see you have only to 
 deduct from eighteen years and a lialf, 
 the two months intervening between this 
 and the 12th of August, and you have 
 my present age exactly, which is eighteen 
 years and four months ? " 
 
 *' To be sure, Herbert," ejaculated Uncle 
 Ben, waking up from a reverie in which he 
 seemed buried for the last five minutes, 
 *' two from six leaves four, that's ]plain to 
 anybody; don't you see it now, Letty ?" 
 (Letitia was the Christian name of Mrs. 
 G-ranville.) 
 
 ''Well, I knew," observed Mrs. Gran- 
 ville, " that there was some mistake, and I 
 now see how we both were led into it ; we 
 were allowing ourselves to suppose that 
 Herbert was born in this month, and we 
 added to his age the two months between 
 this and Auofust, fors-ettino^ that in Auo-ust 
 he will be eighteen years and a half, in- 
 stead of eighteen years and four months, 
 which our mode of calculation would 
 leave him." 
 
 *' Well, upon my word I am glad the
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 103 
 
 thing is satisfactorily arranged at last," 
 observed Herbert, as he leant back in his 
 chair and began tossing his sister's curls 
 around her neck, and facetiously com- 
 menting on their disorderly appearance. 
 But, uncle, what about the letter ? How 
 is Uncle Felix ? " 
 
 " Oh, confound it," exclaimed Uncle 
 Ben, " it had nearly passed out of my mind. 
 But, Herbert, he is still most desirous to 
 have you with him. You know, Letty, like 
 myself, hehas remained a bachelor — he shall 
 never marry now. That disappointment 
 he met with at Dublin he never could get 
 over. Confound me, if I ever believe that 
 she rejected him ; but, you see, that hard- 
 hearted speculating father of hers who was 
 aspiring to build up a family — he was of 
 very low origin himself — he it was who 
 compelled her to marry the other. You 
 see he had the advantage of possessing a 
 handsome estate, while Felix was dependent 
 entirely upon his commission. But at any 
 rate, like myself, his marrying days are 
 over." 
 
 **Why, uncle," observed Julia slily,
 
 104 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 *' manj men mucli older than you have 
 married — how I should be delio^hted to 
 have an Aunt Brown ! " 
 
 " Get away with you, you baggage ! a 
 pretty thing indeed, at my time of life to 
 enter into the cares and anxieties of 
 married life." 
 
 " What, uncle ? you don't mean to say 
 that married life is perplexed with more 
 cares and anxieties than single ? All have 
 cares, married and single, no doubt, but I 
 fancy that when the balance is struck be- 
 tween single life and married, all things 
 being weighed, the former has nothing to 
 boast over the latter in that respect." 
 
 « Well," replied Uncle Ben, '' much de- 
 pends on circumstances, indeed, the chief 
 circumstance is the suitableness of the 
 persons who are united ; if they accord in 
 every essential particular, then I say — all 
 else being right, I mean as to establish- 
 ment — then I say, that the married life is 
 the better and happier. But the union of 
 two persons incompatible in character and 
 manner, must be a fearful trial upon the 
 patience, and a desperate drawback to
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 105 
 
 happiness. Confound me, if I ttouM not 
 rather live alone in a wilderness than be 
 so united. At any rate, Julia, my dear, 
 your old Uncle Ben is not at all likely, at 
 this time of day, to change his present 
 condition. ^N'o, no — but hark'ee, Julia, I 
 hope I am not going to die before I see 
 somebody I know enjoying the blessings 
 of matrimonial life — ha ! ha ! you little 
 rogue," and he touched her chin with glee. 
 '' But," he continued, directing his 
 observations to Herbert, " brother Felix 
 expresses great anxiety to see you. He 
 thinks that Canada is the only place for 
 you under present circumstances ; it offers, 
 he says, a fine field for young men of 
 energy and ability ; and he states emphati- 
 cally that if you join him, all that is his, 
 or may be his hereafter, will be yours in 
 due course. That is something to think 
 of, my boy ; it is not every day that a man 
 is presented with a golden plum. Yet, 
 notwithstanding^ all this D:litter in the 
 distance, I am not the man that would 
 force any person to act against his con- 
 victions, or his views as to what was
 
 106 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 necessary for his welfare and happiness. 
 What is a blessing to one is often a curse 
 to another; so that no man — or woman 
 either — should be coerced into any manner 
 of proceeding that did not run in a straight 
 line with his feelings. Why, man, if I only 
 desired to gratify my personal inclinations, 
 I would never consent to your leaving 
 Ireland; because, whatever may be her 
 faults and her sorrows, whatever her dis- 
 orders and her misgovernraent, I feel that 
 she is dear to us all — I wouldn't leave 
 her for all the wealth of El Dorado. Nor 
 would your father. Confound me if I know 
 who would that ever passed the meridian of 
 his life upon her emerald bosom ; and — " 
 Uncle Ben was gradually verging towards 
 an enthusiastic love of country, when 
 Herbert checked him by observing care- 
 lessl}^ — 
 
 " I don't know that T should much care 
 what country held me, provided only I 
 were happy. It is very little difference I 
 think whether an Irish sky, or a Canadian 
 sky, or any other sky hung above the 
 place of our sojourn, provided our rational
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 107 
 
 aspirations vrere fulfilled. Isot that I am 
 indifferent to country — for I trust I have 
 sufficient patriotism to induce me to make 
 some sacrifice in that respect — it is not 
 that ; but there are particular times and 
 circumstances when and under which it is 
 difficult for one to reconcile himself to 
 living in the country which gave him 
 birth ; you are ever reminded of subjects 
 which disturb and torture you ; and you 
 cannot obtain that repose of the mind and 
 heart which is so essential to your happi- 
 ness. Again, look at the distracted and 
 wretched state of Ireland in other respects; 
 there is neither peace nor security within 
 her bounds. If Ireland were as she ought 
 to be, and — well, I am not altogether self- 
 ish, — but if Ireland were as she ought to 
 be, that is to say, wisely and judiciously 
 governed, and if my own reasonable views 
 as to my particular interests might be 
 carried out here, there is not a country in the 
 world I should prefer to it — of course not." 
 Here again he began to play with his 
 sister's curls, and to rest upon her 
 shoulder.
 
 108 TEIE GEANVILLES. 
 
 "Well, Herbert, here is the letter; read 
 it for yourself, I must retire now. I feel 
 a little weary. Good-night, Julia, good- 
 night, dear," and he saluted the foreheads 
 of his sister and niece. In a few minutes 
 after, all had retired, and silence reigned 
 throughout the mansion.
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 109 
 
 CHAPTEH YI. 
 
 THE captain's ACCOUNT OF HIS ADVENTURES 
 IN FOEEIGN PARTS. 
 
 " Denny," said the captain, on the morning 
 following the dance at the Glazement, when 
 he and the piper were seated at breakfast — 
 '' Denny, how did you rest last night ? A 
 person doesn't always feel tight and trim 
 when a navigatin' in sthrange wathers ; 
 though, it wasn't all sthrange to you either. 
 How long is it since you hove to in this 
 harbour before — a fortnight now or 
 more ? " 
 
 "Be the powers, nothin' could be 
 soundher than my sleep, captain. I 
 roulled id off like a spinnin' top ; and in 
 regard of how long since I was here ; why, 
 it was to-morrow three weeks, the night I 
 was comin' from Bawnguie, over the hills ;
 
 110 THE GRANV'ILLES. 
 
 and a hard niglit of wind it was; and 
 rainin' too. These are fine pratees, captain 
 — where do you get your milk ? At Mr. 
 Moore's be coourse ? — fine ropy milk it is. 
 These are rattlin' eggs, Nelly. You have 
 your own hens, be coorse ? " 
 
 ''Come now, Denny," broke in x^elly, 
 '' take this other egg, and ate somethin' ; 
 shure you'll stharve out an' out if you 
 don't ate more than that. Take that now, 
 I bid you." 
 
 '' Oh, now, don't ask me, Nelly ; agra — 
 I never ate more hearty in all my born 
 days. — Be the powers ; I'm fit for all sorts 
 of divarsion now, from coaxing a purty 
 girl, to highway robbery." 
 
 "Let us go out in the garden, Denny," 
 interposed the captain, ''if so be you won't 
 ate any more ; did you see my summer- 
 house yet?" 
 
 " Where is it ? " asked Denny ; " come, 
 let us have a stretch in it." 
 
 The captain and Denny proceeded to 
 the garden, and after passing to its 
 northern extremity, the captain opened a 
 small wicket, and passed out, followed by
 
 THE GEANVILLES. Ill 
 
 liis companion; tlien wheeling round to- 
 wards the rear of the cottage, they as- 
 cended the rock by steps cut into its face, 
 and reaching the summit they entered a 
 bower formed of birch, hazel, and spruce 
 trees, and whose opening or door looked 
 out over the glen below, and towards the 
 sloping hills that swept back in broken 
 folds to the eastward. The long stretch of 
 level and marshy land that lay off between 
 the north and east was also visible, w^ith 
 its scattered farm-houses, and occasional 
 little villages crouched beside the rough 
 thorn-crowned hedges that crossed and 
 re-crossed the wide expanse. 
 
 They sat upon a natural bench of stone 
 and turf inside the bower, and surveyed the 
 scene beneath and beyond them. It was a 
 lovely morning too ; the sun shone out in 
 remarkable brilliancy ; the sky was blue and 
 clear ; and the air was fragrant from shrub 
 and wild flower. The glen looked to ad- 
 vantage, for the bright morning rays were 
 shining down upon its scattered cottages 
 and gardens, and upon its prattling stream 
 that went dancing and winding among the
 
 112 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 rocks, and firs, and sedges, wliicli bordered 
 and adorned it on either side; the dis- 
 jointed hills too, or rather the collection oE 
 hilly mounds which lay scattered beyond, 
 and appeared as outposts to the receding 
 mountain, which rested its head in the 
 clouds far away — these too looked gay in 
 the radiance. It was a wild, but yet a 
 pleasing scene ; and to the captain and 
 the piper it was fraught with memories 
 which constituted, as far as they were 
 concerned, its chief charm. They sat 
 silent for a while calmly contemplating it ; 
 at length Denny observ^ed, — 
 
 '' The ould glen, after all, captain, is not 
 the worst place in the world ; what do you 
 say?" 
 
 '' No," answered the captain, '' far from 
 it. Do you know, Denny, that whenever I 
 sit here of a n\orning or an evening, some- 
 thing comes over me that softens my heart 
 and makes me feel queer ? It isn't sorrow 
 or pain that comes to me ; it isn't lone- 
 someness either; and it isn't all pleasure 
 either : but it is a feeling made up of all 
 these. My father and mother, and my two
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 113 
 
 sisters rise up before me ; I think of my 
 early years when I used to go over there 
 across the stream to ould Gleeson's school, 
 and when I had my friends, ay, and my 
 enemies too, among the boys — just like the 
 world, in all its stages ; my early wander- 
 ings in foreign parts, and my ups and 
 downs in the world are before my eyes ; 
 and then my present peace and comfort 
 here in the ould spot where my forefathers, 
 I may say, lived and died, mixes itself 
 up with the other thoughts, and I feel 
 as I said, queer. I like it, anyhow ; 
 and to tell you the truth, I often look for 
 it." 
 
 " Oh, be coourse," said Denny, " a 
 man's heart warms to the spot where he 
 was born, and where his mother nursed 
 him : that's the way it goes, you know. 
 There's my ould mother down there in 
 the glen, where her seven generations were 
 bred, born, and reared ; shure it stands to 
 raison that my heart warms to that spot 
 beyond any other place in the world. 
 "Why wouldn't it ? But not all the same 
 as you who were away in foreign parts, 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 and didn't see Ireland or the sky over it 
 for ever so long, I was always to the fore 
 and, maybe, didn't think as inuch of onld 
 times as if I was out of sighth of it. 
 That's the differ, captain." 
 
 We cannot help observing here, upon the 
 almost equality of sentiment which marked 
 these two men, who were otherwise very 
 different ; that is, they were very different, 
 not indeed in character and disposition, 
 for in this respect they resembled eacli 
 other very much, but in that degree of 
 knowledge and experience which causes 
 such a chasm between man and man. The 
 piper was possessed of much deep generous 
 feeling, but he knew very little of the ways 
 of men, their ambitions, their subtleties, 
 their frauds. He also possessed a certain 
 amount of sagacity which enabled him to 
 perceive the peculiar weaknesses and foibles 
 of those in his own sphere of life ; but 
 beyond this he could not go. 
 
 But the captain was to some extent an 
 educated man ; and in addition to this, his 
 experience, both in Ireland and America, 
 opened him a wide field in which to exer-
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 115 
 
 cise a naturally strong intellect, already 
 enlightened by the education he had re- 
 ceived, limited though it was. 
 
 They were both contemporaries, and 
 lived in the same neighbourhood; they 
 went to school together for a time ; they 
 played top, and hurled together : and they 
 played music, and danced together : and 
 all this formed a bond of union between 
 them which continued unbroken to the last. 
 They were still in the prime of life, and 
 vigorous in constitution. 
 
 " Hows'ever," continued Denny, after a 
 pause, " the ould place here looks grander 
 and purtier than ever it did widin my 
 recollection. But money'll do anything. 
 It cost you a good penny, captain, to put 
 it in repair as it is — I may say 'tis built 
 out o' the new ; and there's the garden 
 and the field, and the hedges, and the 
 trees. — Oh, begor, it must cost a power." 
 
 '' Yes, Denny, it cost something hand- 
 some ; but still an all, 'tis nothing com- 
 pared with the comfort of it. But, Denny, 
 I earned the money hard that I spent in 
 these little improvements ; and still and all, 
 1 2
 
 116 THE GRAKVILLES. 
 
 'tis well now. I have enougli to last for 
 my life, and to keep me in comfort ; and 
 when I die — and I hope to die in favour 
 with the Almighty who provides for and 
 watches over us all — I hope to be able to 
 lave somethin' that'll be of service to 
 others." 
 
 " I believe, shure enough," said Denny, 
 in slow musing accents, '' 'tis hard workin' 
 in America. I was thinkin' one time — oh, 
 long afther you were gone — to try my luck 
 there; but you see the ould mother 
 couldn't be left alone, and so I never 
 went. I always heeard 'twas a fine place 
 for a man : — what way does the music go 
 there?" 
 
 " Didn't I ever tell you about that part 
 of the world ? " asked the captain. " I 
 thought we often had long conversations 
 about different parts of America ? " 
 
 '' Oh, but nothin' to signify," said Denny, 
 " we had little sketches about it, that's 
 all." 
 
 " Well, now, as the morning is glorious 
 — praises be to His holy name who gives 
 us lisrht and life — and as neither of us have
 
 THE GKANVILLES. 117 
 
 Dotliing in particular to do, I'll tell you, 
 Denny, some of my own ups and downs in 
 America." 
 
 " Begorries ! " ejaculated Denny, '* nothin' 
 could be more pleasin'. And, shure enough, 
 'tis a ^Yondllerful fine day, glory be to God." 
 
 The captain then commenced. 
 
 *' Denny, do you know the reason they 
 call me captain ? " 
 
 ''Why, not very well," was Denny's 
 answer. 
 
 *' It is this, Denny ; I was once a sailor, 
 as I may say, in a vessel ; for that matter 
 I often acted in that line ; and sometimes 
 I was made captain of the watch ; and so 
 I was called captain on that account. 
 Blow me," he exclaimed, " but there's 
 many a worse life than a sailor's. At least, 
 I was not badly off when I lived on board 
 a ship. But to come to the point : after I 
 left my uncle's house, that morning — you 
 know all about that ? " 
 
 " Oh, in troth I do," answered Denny; 
 *' the ould man was out of his sinses when 
 he missed you ; but I pacified him when I 
 tould him all."
 
 118 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 " Well," resumed the captain, " after I 
 left, I went straight to Cork harbour ; and 
 it took me some time, and hardship too, to 
 reach there ; but I met with friends on the 
 road, and I got on well enough. I stayed 
 at a house — a sort of sheebeen or public- 
 house — at the Cove, waiting for a vessel 
 that I was told would be sailing to America 
 in a few days. I used to walk about there 
 while I was waiting ; and once I went up 
 to Cork city in company with a young man 
 who was staying in the same house vath 
 me, to inquire about the vessel that he was 
 waiting for to go back in, for he belonged 
 to some place in America ; I didn't mind 
 where, then. He was a decent young man, 
 and he had friends in the city ; and so he 
 took me about with him ; and I felt very 
 easy in my mind, considering everything. 
 After a couple of days the vessel was 
 ready, and we went back to the Cove, and 
 went on board. That young man behaved 
 like a brother to me ; I wasn't able to pay 
 for a place in the cabin, but he made up 
 for me the difference of price between the 
 cabin and the steerage ; and so I was with
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 119 
 
 himself in the cabin. There were only two 
 other passengers besides ourselves there ; 
 for she wasn't a regular passenger vesseh 
 So we set sail with a fair wind out of the 
 harbour — and a noble harbour it is ; fine 
 bold land around it on every side, covered 
 with great trees in different parts, and the 
 river Lee flowing into it like a great belt 
 of silver. After a few days I began to 
 recover from the grief that was sitting at 
 my heart while I could see the shores of 
 poor old Ireland, beckoning to me, like, to 
 come back and never mind roving. She 
 was a good, tight little ship ; her name was 
 the Boreas ; and when the sea rose, and 
 the waves came sweeping down like wild 
 frothing horses, she bent down, and then 
 rose up like a swallou^." 
 
 '' Stop, now, captain, if you plase," said 
 Denny, who while the narrative was pro- 
 ceeding, had his mouth open, and his eyes 
 intently fixed on the narrator, evidently 
 wonderiug at the extraordinary circum- 
 stances that were being unfolded. *' Stop, 
 captain, if you plase ; I was often thinkin' 
 what do they do in the night when they're
 
 120 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 goin' to America ; as I am tould, they don't 
 see no thin' but wather and shky when 
 they're on the road; — how do they con- 
 thrive in the night when they can't see 
 anything, I may say the length of my arm 
 from them ? That's what I often wondhered 
 at. Do they draw in towards the bank ; 
 and tie the ship to the trees, and then go 
 sleep in a house ? " 
 
 '' Too-ot, too-ot," was the reply ; " bank 
 indeed ! why, man alive, there's no more 
 bank there than on the palm of your hand. 
 Don't you know, that the Atlantic Ocean 
 is over two thousand miles wide in the 
 narrowest part of it ; and as for the length, 
 there's no bounds to it, I may say, except 
 the poles of the world ? " 
 
 Denny appeared much bewildered, but 
 said nothing, contenting himself to give 
 expression to his feelings by pursing out 
 his lips, and breathing a sort of prolonged 
 whistle, at the end of which he exclaimed, 
 " Thundher an' turf, that bates all ; and I 
 tell you what it is, Jack Grorman, I'd no 
 more go travellin' in sich a place than I'd 
 go leapin' from the top of Corrigduv ; and
 
 THE GKANVILLES. 121 
 
 that's what you might call a high 
 leap." 
 
 The captam continued : — 
 
 " Well, we went along safe enough, any 
 way ; and myself, and my friend, and the 
 other two passengers kept good company 
 together, for they were civil men, and had 
 good knowledge of the world. And the 
 captain and mate of the ship, too, were 
 conversable men, and desirous to do every- 
 thing to make our time pass by pleasantly. 
 The ship was bound to Canada ; so they 
 told me when we w^ere out about a week ; — 
 I never minded where we were going at 
 first, because all parts of America were 
 the same to me ; and all I cared was to 
 get rid of my grief and trouble after the 
 death of those that were dear to me ; and 
 to earn money somehow or other in 
 honesty ; and come back again to Ireland 
 and the old place if God was pleased to 
 prosper me." 
 
 " Stay, Jack Gorman," broke in Denny ; 
 " were you sick on the journey ? I always 
 heeard tell that the sea-sickness is wondher- 
 ful in ships, and that few escapes it."
 
 122 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 " The first day or two," resumed the 
 captam, " I was sick enough, beheve me ; 
 but the mate gave me a mug of salt water, 
 and after drinking it I began to get well 
 again. Well, we were more than half-way 
 on our voyage, and about a fortnight on the 
 water w^hen one night I heard great noise 
 and trampling on the deck, and the roaring 
 of wind, and the slapping of ropes, or 
 something or another that gave me a 
 proper start. I jumped out of bed, put on 
 my trousers and coat, and put my head up 
 above the cabin door : and such a sight I 
 never saw before ; I saw w^orse though 
 often enoug^h afterwards. There was the 
 ocean like a million of mad bulls with 
 white horns and manes, rearing, plunging, 
 roaring ; as if they wanted nothing but to 
 drive their horns through the ship, and 
 scatter her like a cock of hay." 
 
 " Oh, murther ! murther ! " ejaculated 
 Denny, as he drew np his legs close 
 together under his chin, his arms clasped 
 around them, and his eyes fixed on the 
 captain devouring every word that fell 
 from him. " Jack Gorman ! Jack Gorman,
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 123 
 
 agra ! did you lose your life ? Odi-aroo-oo, 
 what did you say to 'em ? Did you shut 
 your eyes, and run undher the table ? 
 Phoo-o-o, Jack, Jack, don't show 'em to 
 me any more." 
 
 The captain went on without heeding 
 the remarks of his companion : '* I was 
 not standing above half a minute on the 
 steps of the companion when a tremendous 
 sea swept over the deck, and struck me 
 back into the cabin, leaviog me senseless 
 on the floor below. Alter a little time I 
 recovered, but I was up to my knees in 
 water when I stood on my feet. By this 
 time my fellow-passengers were on their 
 legs ; and there was great confusion and 
 uproar everywhere. We all strove to 
 go up the stairs again to look out, but 
 the door was fastened above, and we 
 were obliged to go back again : we 
 couldn't stand or sit in the cabin on 
 account of the water ; so we had nothing 
 to do but to get into our bunks again, 
 and lie down. It was a dreadful time ; 
 the roaring and screeching of the waves 
 and wind were dreadful to hear : there
 
 124 THE GHANVILLES. 
 
 was thunder and lightning too, for the 
 lightning used to blaze into our berths 
 and almost blind us. How long we were 
 that way I couldn't tell then, but I 
 found out afterwards 'twas two days and 
 a night. 
 
 "At last the noise of the storm was gone ; 
 there was a soft easy moaning, like a ban- 
 shee, and a cliurning like tbe churning of 
 milk when the butter is gathering. After 
 this there was the noise of shuffling feet on 
 the deck; and a shouting far away like 
 the same as a woman shouting to men to 
 come in to dinner." 
 
 '' Glory be to God ! " exclaimed Denny, 
 who during the captain's recital of the 
 shipwreck was crouched upon his face, his 
 elbows and knees on the turf, his eyes 
 closed, and bis clenched hand occasionally 
 striking liis breast ; " Glory be to God ! " 
 he exclaimed, *' may be a house was hard 
 by, and the hanatliee (the housekeeper) was 
 callin' ye in to dry and warm yourselves ; 
 and give ye, may be a dhrop out of the 
 bottle, afore ye'd sit down to your dinners. 
 Anyway, 'twas a blessin' to seethe women
 
 THE GKANYILLES. 125 
 
 cliuriiin' the buttlier ; and 'tis like, tliat tlie 
 bread was tuck off the griddle, hot and 
 warm fit for a Cappara (a slice of bread 
 and butter) : and Jack, agra, did you run 
 for the bare life when you heeard the woman 
 callin' ? Oh, muUa go dho, lath, a heerna ! 
 (praise be to the Lord for ever.)" 
 
 The captain continued after this inter- 
 ruption, " The hatch was immediately 
 taken from the companion, and a voice 
 was heard shouting to ns to come np. We 
 jumped up, ascended the companion stairs, 
 and stood on the deck. And such a sight 
 as met our eyes ! there was no more mast, 
 nor sail, nor rope standing on the vessel 
 than there is on the palm of my hand, in 
 a manner. And side by side with us was 
 a large French barque that was after 
 coming to our relief." 
 
 " Hurroo, hurroo," shouted Denn}^ 
 jumping from his crouching posture on the 
 turf, and brandishing one of his arms above 
 his head ; " hurroo, the Frinch for ever ; 
 they were niver backward on a pinch ; and 
 whisper, Jack," he said, stooping down and 
 nearly breathing iuto the captain's mouth.
 
 126 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 " did they tell you, tliey were comin' to 
 save Ireland, eh ? " 
 
 ** Just listen," said the captain ; " fchere 
 ■were only three men standing on the deck 
 of our vessel besides ourselves — that is 
 besides the three other passengers and 
 myself — and those were the mate and two 
 of the sailors ; the rest were swept over- 
 board in the tempest. The French cap- 
 tain and three or four of his men, however, 
 stept on our deck ; and after talking a 
 little while with the mate, for the captain 
 spoke English fair enough, we all went on 
 board the French ship. She was called 
 the Gorveaic, I think; and a fine staunch 
 ship she was, though she looked a little bat- 
 tered. She was twice the size of our own 
 vessel, and had three masts ; but her top- 
 masts and yards were off, so that she didn't 
 look as tall as she would if they were 
 on. She was a banker, so they told me, 
 going home from the fishery on the banks, 
 near Newfoundland. So, you must think, 
 Denny, my boy, that we were in a droll 
 quandary, turning about on a voyage to 
 France, instead of going to Canada."
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 127 
 
 " Well,'* muttered Denny, lost in 
 apparent perplexity, *' ye miglit turn in to 
 Ireland on your way, and lind a liand to 
 the boys, if they were took to the moun- 
 tains ; but, may be, you'd rather not come 
 back again, that time ; well, couldn't you 
 be let go on the bank ; and thin you could 
 make your journey along the side of the 
 country to Canada, supposin' 'twasn't far 
 away from the place you were lost." 
 
 *' Too-o-ot, too-o-ot," was the rejoinder, 
 " the banks are deep down in the water, 
 they're not what you think at all, Denny ; 
 they are fishing -banks or ledges where the 
 fishery is carried on, and they are hundreds 
 of miles from Canada, and no country at 
 all between the two places. But fortune 
 favoured us still further ; in the course 
 of the day we fell in with a vessel that 
 was bound to Newfoundland ; and we went 
 on board of her. She was a fish-vessel ; 
 and was returning from a place called Lab- 
 rador, with a cargo of fish, and a number 
 of fishermen who belonged to Newfound- 
 land and were now sfoing^ home after 
 spending the summer fishing in that place.
 
 128 THE GRAI^VILLES. 
 
 We were well treated, as well as could 
 be expected, as tliere wasn't much room to 
 spare in her, and there was a great crowd 
 on board of her. The captain of her 
 told us that we'd have an opportunity 
 of going to Canada from ISTewfoundland ; 
 and so we were very well satisfied ; and 
 sure we ought after the danger we went 
 through, and the sad prospect of being 
 brought to France, back over the ocean 
 again, without knowing what to do when 
 we arrived there. The other men, my 
 fellow-passengers, knew ISTewfoundland 
 very well, and told me that they were 
 there before, and that we wouldn't be long 
 going to Canada from there. So we got 
 on well enough, we had plenty to eat and 
 drink, fish and biscuit, and dough-boys, 
 and pork, and tea." 
 
 " Ah ! there's for you, tay,^^ interrupted 
 Denny ; " and were the men drinkin' tay ? 
 and what sort of atin' is dough-boys ? I 
 often heeard tell that they ates childer 
 (Grod 'etween us an' all harm) in foreign 
 parts far away : but. Jack, how could a 
 Christian stomach the likes ? Look now
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 129 
 
 (rising with a solemn gravity), I'd rather 
 ate my bag, ay, and my chanther to the 
 end of it, than touch one of them httle 
 childher wid my teeth. Be this stick in 
 my hand I would (he held no stick in his 
 hand), and more than that, I'd go to bed 
 fastin' for a month afore I'd looh at one 
 of 'embiled." 
 
 '' Too-o-ot, too-o-ot," resumed the cap- 
 tain, '' they're not children at all, man 
 alive ; they are balls made out of flour and 
 boiled with pork. However, at the end 
 of fourteen days we arrived at New- 
 foundland, at a j)lace called Conception 
 Bay. The vessel and her crew and 
 passengers belonged to a town called 
 Carbonear in that bay. The master of 
 the vessel, one Duggan, brought myself 
 and Gillespy — Charley Gillesj^y, that's 
 the young man that stayed at the 
 same lodging with me at the Cove — he 
 brought us to his own house : the other 
 two men went to a boarding-house. After 
 stopping for a day there we said we'd goto 
 a boarding-house, but he wouldn't hear of 
 it. ' No,' says he, ' stay here as long as 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 THR GEANVILLES. 
 
 je are in tlie town, and until ye get 
 a chance for Quebec, stay liere and 
 welcome.' " 
 
 " That was civil of m," observed Denny. 
 ^' I wondber might he be anything to the 
 Duggans of Shkelpstown ; they're clever 
 decent people as you'd meet in a day's 
 walk ; I stays wid 'm whenever I'm on my 
 rounds in them parts, and be the same 
 token, Paddy Duggan's sisther's son's 
 daughter that was married to Jim Leary's 
 uncle's daughter's brother-in-law is my 
 own third and fourth cousin ; and a fine 
 comely girl she was till she died of the 
 fever, God bless the hearers. But there's 
 the Duggans of Boolagh ; they're nothin' 
 to me though, but they're related to the 
 Brennans of Shronebeg, and the Brennans 
 and Reddigans are related be the mother's 
 side. That's the way it is." 
 
 '' No," replied the captain, '' he wasn't 
 one of that family at all, he w^as a Tipperary 
 man ; a noble specimen of his countrymen ; 
 he was, brave, generous, and hospitable. 
 He was well to do then, he had a fine 
 house, and his wife was as noble as himself.
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 131 
 
 He had three sons and tliree dauglitei^s, 
 that was bis family, and I never saw finer 
 young men and woQien, for, I may say they 
 were all men and women, the youngest, 
 who was a girl, being at least sixteen years 
 of age. 
 
 " Well, I stopped there for nearly a 
 month, myself and Gillespy; and no chance 
 offered all that time of a vessel going to any 
 part of Canada ; at last the two other men 
 who stayed at the boarding-house and used 
 to meet us or we them, every day, told us 
 one morning that they wouldn't wait any 
 longer, and that they had prepared to pro- 
 ceed to Halifax in Nova Scotia, to which 
 place they were informed a vessel was soon 
 going from St. John's the capital city of 
 Newfoundland. They said that they had 
 settled to go in the Carbonear packet-boat 
 the next day ; and that if we liked — that is, 
 myself and Gillespy — we might go with 
 them. 
 
 " Gillespy consented at once; but I hesi- 
 tated, because Mr. Daggan, our hospitable 
 entertainer, told me that if I liked to stay 
 in Newfoundland, he would give me em-
 
 132 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 ployment and good wages ; lie often said 
 this to me while we were staying at his 
 house ; and as I had no friend or relation 
 to meet in Canada, and as I left home only 
 for employment and reward in America, I 
 thought that it was no matter to me in 
 what part of that country I might be settled 
 provided I got what I wanted. So I agreed 
 to remain with Mr. Dao'Ofan. 
 
 "My fellow-passengers left Carbonear the 
 next morning, on their way to St. John's ; 
 and I didn't see them again for many years, 
 but I did meet 'em afterwards, as I'll let 
 you know before I have finished my 
 story. 
 
 " ' Now,' says Mr. Duggan to me the even- 
 ing after my companions went away, ' you 
 understand keeping accounts, so you told 
 me, very well ; I want a young man of your 
 sort to take charge of that store of mine 
 on the wharf below, that I showed you the 
 other day; the man I have there now 
 doesn't know much about figures, or writing 
 either ; now, I'll ship you for two summers 
 and a winter as storekeeper and general 
 man ; and I'll give you fifty pounds and
 
 THE GKAXVILLES. 133 
 
 jour diet for that term ; and if we like 
 eacli other afterwards, I'll rise your wages. 
 That's mj offer. I like you, young man,' 
 says he, ' and I have no doubt, that you 
 and I will agree well together. Come,' 
 says he, slapping me on the shoulder, 
 ' what do you think of that ? ' " 
 
 '' How much did he say ? " asked Denny, 
 interrupting the narrative. 
 
 '' Fifty pounds and. my diet for two sum- 
 mers and a winter," repeated the captain. 
 
 " How much might that be in the year ? " 
 asked Denny. 
 
 '' Why," answered the captain, '' it would 
 be nearly thirty-seven pounds, besides my 
 support." 
 
 ''Tare an' ages," exclaimed Denny, 
 " your fortune was made ; thundher and 
 turf, what did you say to 'm? maybe 
 though he wasn't in earnest. An' he wasn't 
 one of the Duggans of Shkelpstown ? 
 Tliirtij- seven pounds for one year, besides 
 eatin' and drinkin'. I often heeard tell 
 of Newfoundland ; but that's more than 
 ever I heeard yet. Whisper, Jack, isn't 
 id a cat chin' cod-fish they do be there ?
 
 134 THE GR ANTILLES. 
 
 TJiirty -seven pounds for one year, let alone 
 the atin' and drinkin' ! Ned Tracy was 
 in Newfoundland, Ned in tlie bog below ; 
 they call 'm the Codchj ; and he tould me 
 that the devil himself, God guard ns 
 all, couldn't stand the weather there. 
 ' Dinny,' says he to me one day, ' when 
 you'd be walkin' on the road in that 
 counthry you'd have to mind yourself 
 for fear any one was walkin' before you; 
 for, do you mind, the frost would set the 
 nails flyin' out of his shoes, and you'd be 
 struck in the eyes like a shot out of a gun, 
 and you'd never see a wink agin.' How 
 did you bring your eyesight out of it at all. 
 Jack?" 
 
 ''Too-o-ot, too-o-ot" replied the 
 captain, ** that's all balderdash, Denny. 
 There's great frost and snow there, to 
 be sure ; but not as bad as all that. I'll 
 tell you what I saw there, though; and 
 what I did myself. I saw the snow in a 
 street there as high as the houses ; and I 
 walked up that street ; and I used to step 
 on the roofs of the houses, here and there, 
 on either side of me, while I was going
 
 THE GRAXVILLES. 135 
 
 along. And more than that, I walked over 
 one of the hov.ses when I was leaving that 
 street to go into another street. That's 
 what I saw, and did, Denny; but itself, 
 the weather in that countrv is not so bad 
 as Ned the Coddy said. Ned was like 
 many others that went to America, they 
 were too idle and too lazy to work; and 
 they came back to Ireland again, 
 excusing^ themselves for havinsf nothinsf 
 after their time by blaming and abusing 
 the country they left. That's the way, 
 Denny ; I knew a good many of that 
 sort, and 'tis often I was ashamed of 'em ; 
 for the}^ were good for neither king nor 
 country. They were good enough for 
 drinking rum and whisky, and for making 
 fools of themselves ; but they had neither 
 industry, nor sinse, nor gumption, nor any- 
 thing that 'd be a credit to them or to the 
 country they hailed from. That's the way 
 'twas with them, Denny. 
 
 " But, to go on with my story. I 
 served out my time with Mr. Duggan 
 according to my shipping paper, that is, 
 my agreement ; and a good and pleasant
 
 136 THE GKANVILLES. 
 
 time enougli it Avas, when I once got used 
 to it. I stood tlie store tlie first winter, 
 that is, from the time I shipped until the 
 next spring ; that was the busy time for 
 store business. Then came the seal-hunting 
 time, about the 1st of March ; and sure 
 enough there was great work and bustle 
 going on then, preparing for the ice. 
 Mr. Duggan got his vessel and crew 
 ready among the rest; and he gave me 
 my choice to go with him in the vessel, 
 or to stay at home and mind the store. 
 But I made choice of going ; since I longed 
 to know what way the seals were hunted 
 on the ice, and by what contrivance the 
 vessels were brought through it. So one 
 of the skipper's daughters — skipper is the 
 name of a man who commands a vessel, or 
 who has the management of any business ; 
 the same as we call master — one of his 
 daughters took charge of the store — there 
 wasn't much doing there then — and away I 
 went to the ice. She was a snug tidy 
 craft, and called the Mary, after Mrs. 
 Duggan ; and she carried thirty-four men, 
 myself being one of the number. We were
 
 THE GEAXVILLES. 137 
 
 going for a day and a night, in siglit 
 of land all the time ; with the ocean 
 covered with ice on one side of us, and the 
 hilly uneven land covered with snow on the 
 other ; till at last, all of a sudden, the 
 second day after we left the harbour, I saw 
 nothing but ice all around, and no sign of 
 land. There were little lochs of blue water 
 shinino' here and there throu2rli the miles 
 of ice ; and along the edges of those lochs 
 and for yards and yards behind them were 
 scattered hundreds upon hundreds of little 
 creatures that I thought were white lambs, 
 but those were the seals. All now was 
 preparation and bustle ; every man took his 
 hauling rope and gaff ; and out they went 
 over the bows and sides of the vessel, and 
 myself among 'em. We scattered, two and 
 two over the ice, which by this time was 
 breaking and splitting into big and little 
 squares and pieces of every shape, like 
 blankets floating on a pond. Away we 
 went, leaping from i)a]i to jjan — that's the 
 name they call the floating ice — away we 
 went, till we reached the seals. When I 
 came to the first little creature, and saw it
 
 138 TUE GEANVILLES. 
 
 with its innocent face turned up to me, 
 and the tears rolhng down from its big 
 black soft eyeSj mj heart relented; I 
 couldn't strike it. When my comrade, who 
 AYas after using his bat on at least a score 
 of 'em all around, came up to where I 
 was, he lifted his bat to strike the creature 
 that was looking at me. I couldn't stand 
 it ; I jumped up from where I was 
 kneeling, and looking at the creature, I 
 turned the blow aside. ' No,' I said to the 
 man, 'you mustn't strike that seal; I'd 
 redden this ice with my own heart's blood 
 before I'd allow any man to shed one drop 
 of hers.' The man drew back, and looked 
 at me w^ith scorn ; and then lifting his arm 
 again, he was about to strike the seal ; but 
 before his blow came down I had sprung 
 at his neck, and flung him sprawling into 
 the sea. I took her into my arms, and I 
 rested her head on my breast : * No one 
 must touch you my innocent lamb ; your 
 mother, it may be, is dead ; and may be, 
 you had sisters, and they are dead ; but Jack 
 Gorman knows how to feel for the stricken 
 heart; — Go, and live;' and I dropped
 
 THE GKAXVJLLES. 139 
 
 her quietly into the ocean ; she dived under 
 the ice, and I saw her no more." 
 
 " And the man, Jack Gorman — was he 
 drowned ? " asked Denny, in a tremulous 
 tone. 
 
 '' Xo ; he was not drowned ; I watched 
 him, in order to prevent his being drowned, 
 if such a danger should appear ; but I saw 
 him rise upon a pan at the opposite side of 
 the loch, and walk away from the place. 
 And do you know what, Denny Mullins ? 
 From that day out there was no mortal 
 power could make me kill one of them 
 seals. I walked away from the spot with 
 a heavy heart ; and I turned my back on 
 the places where the men were killing them, 
 but I made a solemn vow to the throbbings 
 of my own heart that I would never lay a 
 murdering hand on any living creature that 
 looked into my face with the tears in its 
 eyes. 
 
 '' After this, I rambled about the ice for 
 an hour or more, sometimes resting myself 
 under an arch, or on the steps of a tower ; 
 and sometimes climbing up to one of the 
 galleries of a castle, or to the roof of a
 
 140 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 churcli, until at last I began to feel Imngr}^; 
 and I began to turn my steps towards tlie 
 ship. But wlien I looked around me, I could 
 see no ship. But I did see what made me 
 tremble, I tell you ; I saw the ice swelling 
 and rising, and heaving as if there was a 
 million of bullocks under it and trying to 
 get up. The ice pans, too, were breaking 
 and bursting, and tumbling one over 
 another in rows and heaps like big long 
 swarths of hay raked up together; and 
 there was a noise running through the 
 whole of it as if the bullocks were roaring, 
 and smothering, and knocking their horns 
 against each other. I was frightened, you 
 may be sure. I was tossed up and down 
 like a child in a swing ; and the sight left 
 my eyes. I blessed myself; and called 
 upon God not to forsake me. I began to 
 think that my sins were now coming 
 against me; and that the vengeance of 
 heaven was going to fall on me. My eyes 
 began to open ; and I could see before me 
 as j)lain as if 'twas wrote in big letters of 
 red ink, the whole history of my life. But 
 in the middle of that history, as it were, I
 
 THE GR ANTILLES. 141 
 
 saw raj mother and my sisters standing up 
 like towers in height, and dressed all in 
 white, with a blaze of light all-dazzling 
 aronnd them. I threw myself down on 
 my knees ; I raised np my hands and arms 
 to heaven, and I called for mercy ; I then 
 felt a reel in mj head, and I fell, my face 
 upon the ice. I knew — I heard no more 
 till I was grasped by the arm, and raised 
 on my legs. Two men stood near me ; 
 and telling me to ' come along,' they 
 walked on for a minute or two, one of them 
 holding me by the arm ; and then letting 
 me go, they told me to ' cheer up,' and to 
 follow them. Well, I recovered myself at 
 once ; and will you believe me ? I never 
 in the course of my life felt so much 
 courage in my heart as I did at that 
 moment. I jumped after them from pan 
 to pan, over tlie lochs of the ocean — and 
 some of them were more than three yards 
 wide, with, may be, a little round lump of 
 ice floating in the middle — sometimes one or 
 other of us fell into the water, not beingable 
 to make our leap good; but we were helped 
 out by the others, who used to reach out
 
 142 THE GEANYILLES. 
 
 the end of a bat, or long pole, by means of 
 wliicli we were lifted up on the other side. 
 I fell in, and was dragged out that way 
 myself three or four times. On, on, on we 
 went, and struggled, and toiled ; the 
 heaving, and rolling, and thundering of 
 the wide fields of white ice going on all 
 the time ; but worse than that, the sky 
 began to grow dark and sulky, and the 
 wind began to puff and shout through the 
 arches and towers of the ice-castles. But 
 we still rushed and reeled on, never 
 pausing to notice anything; except now 
 and then the two men would shout out a 
 word to each other about the direction 
 they were taking. 
 
 " In this way we continued for hours — I 
 can't tell now how long — but it appeared 
 as long as a whole day to me : at last, we 
 heard a crack, as if something had burst. 
 ' That's a gun,' says the foremost man. 
 • All right,' says the other ; ' heave 
 ahead :' and we still kept on. In about 
 half an hour after we had heard the shot — 
 for it was a shot fired from a vessel, for a
 
 THE GEAXVILLES. 143 
 
 signal — we saw a vessel, heavy and. black 
 looking, and half rolling on her side, with 
 two bare masts ; like a rick of turf bulged in 
 the side, and two poles stuck in the middle 
 of it. Up we came to her ; and after 
 going 'round and round her, looking for a 
 pan to jump on, for the sea was all around 
 her, we caught a rope at last, which was 
 thrown to us by one of the crew, and we 
 were hauled on deck — more dead than 
 alive, I tell you. But this wasn't the 
 vessel I belonged to. The fact of the 
 matter is, I never saw my own vessel 
 aofain durins; the sprino-. I continued in 
 this one, which was called the Mary Jane, 
 and belonged to St. John's, until the month 
 of May, when she returned to port with 
 four thousand seals on board. After stop- 
 ping about a week in St. John's, where I 
 was treated with great civility and hospi- 
 tality by the owner of the vessel, one ' Nor- 
 wood,' I set out for Carbonear. I went on 
 foot to a place called Portugal Cove, on 
 the sea-shore ; and from that I crossed 
 over the bay in the packet-boat to Car-
 
 144 THE GIJANVILLES. 
 
 bonear. It took me a day and a niglit to 
 make tlie journey, tliougli tlie distance is 
 not thirty miles. I found Mr. Duggan at 
 home before me, witli three thousand 
 seals in his vessel. He and the whole 
 family were delighted to see me. They 
 were afraid I was lost ; but still they had 
 hoped that I would be picked up by some 
 other vessel. So there, Denny, was my 
 first adventure in America." 
 
 During the recital of the captain's 
 narrative, Denny appeared bewildered, 
 and lost in amazement. He had drawn 
 closer to his companion ; and with his 
 elbows resting on his knees, and his chin 
 and cheeks buried in his broad palms, he 
 stared fixedly into the narrator's face; 
 while his mouth and eyes were drawn 
 back, and open to their widest capa- 
 city. 
 
 When the captain ceased, Denny changed 
 his position ; and turning his back on his 
 companion he commenced to speak, with- 
 out any apparent desire of being answered, 
 or in any way interrupted in the course 
 of his spoken meditations.
 
 THE GRANVILLE S. 145 
 
 '' I am bothered out and out," he began; 
 *' and what harm if it was any one but Jack 
 Gorman that made me this way ? Oh, Jack 
 Gorman, Jack Gorman, 'tis little I thought, 
 when you and I went to school together, 
 down to Pat Gleeson's at the Cross, and 
 were larnin' our prayers and our catechism, 
 that it would come to this at last ; you on 
 the black dismal sea, a say in' of your 
 prayers afore goin' to be drowned ; and I 
 far away at home, never knowin' where 
 you were, nor never thinkin' of nothin'. 
 And the motlier that bore you was sleepin' 
 in her grave ; and lyin' by her side in 
 darkness and peace were the sisthers that 
 loved you. The Lord look down on us all 
 this blessed day. And the little creature 
 was cryin' in the "middle of the sea. The 
 seal ; I wonder whatsis the seal ! And 
 where was her own people on that dismal 
 day ? May be they were dead and gone to 
 th' other world ; and shure enough 'tis 
 hard to tell. I wondher was her mother 
 alive ! There is myself ; if I was goin' 
 to be drowned, or, may be, to be killed ; 
 and my mother not knowin' about it, but, 
 
 VOL, I. L
 
 146 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 may be, clreamin' I was comin' liome to 
 her. — Ochone ! oclione ! And who is the 
 man was goin' to murther the creature, 
 and the tears in her eyes ? Be th' etarnal, 
 if I was to the fore I'd smash the two eyes 
 into smithereens in his head, the shoneen 
 of blazes. Ha ! ha ! what did I do when 
 that terrible miscreant, old Croker's son, 
 was ill-treating that poor honest colleen, 
 Teddy Bohn's danghther — what did I do 
 thin ? I came behind him, and I struck 'm 
 a wipe of my fist that sint him spinnin' 
 headlonof into the ditch : and I tould the 
 colleen to run for her life. Then when he 
 got up he followed myself, but Paddy 
 Larkin was comin' across from Moore's, 
 and when he see him, and what he was 
 doin', he runs at him, and gives him a 
 paulthogue (a blow from the fist) that sets 
 him rowlin' on the broad of his back. Ha ! 
 ha ! — only for Paddy Larkin came up, I'd 
 never ate a bit of the world's bread that 
 day. 
 
 '' Well, where's this I was ? Och, yes : I 
 was a spakin' of that cratur' that was cryin' 
 on the sea ; and where is she now, I won-
 
 THE GRAXVILLES. 147 
 
 dher? may be, gone to glory. 'Twas a 
 quare place for lier to be, and no one be- 
 longin' to her to the fore to take her part : 
 only for Jack Gorman, she'd be murthered 
 out and oat by that spalpsen of the devil 
 — God pardon me for mentionin' the 
 name of the baste." 
 
 Here he muttered a prayer, and struck 
 his breast ; after which he resumed : — 
 
 '^ And there was bullocks undher the sea, 
 and tryin' to come up ; — by what he tould 
 me, 'twas like a shaky bog, risin' and 
 sinkin' : — and what 'ud bring bullocks 
 there? They couldn't be natural bul- 
 locks — sea-bullocks, that's what they were. 
 Och, millia murther ! I'd lose my life if 
 I was there. And what could the poor 
 Christians do only for the mercy of God 
 that keeps 'em safe and sound, when every 
 one is tryin' to ruinate 'em ? But God is 
 stronger than the devil any how, and His 
 power and glory can't be put down." 
 
 He paused awhile ; and then turning to 
 his companion, he said, with the most 
 solemn emphasis and deliberation, — 
 
 " Jack Gorman, believe me, what I am 
 
 L 2 •':
 
 148 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 goin' to say, — Only for the mercy of tlie 
 blessed Eedeemer of the world, and the 
 inthersession of His blessed motber you 
 wouldn't be alive to-day."
 
 THE GRANVILLE S. 149 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 A DINNER-PARTY AT BROOKFIELD HALL — 
 VARIOUS OPINIONS ON CURRENT EVENTS. 
 
 AYhen Denny Mullins, the piper, had con- 
 cluded his meditations on the captain's 
 narrative of the seahng voyage, the latter 
 rose ff^m his seat, and telling Denny that 
 he had to be down at Brookfield Hall, the 
 residence of Mr. George Moore, at ten 
 o'clock, in order to see after some accounts, 
 and to lend a hand in making preparations 
 for a dinner-party that was to take place 
 there in the evening, he descended from 
 the summer-house followed by his com- 
 panion. When they had reached the door 
 of the cottage, the captain took a key from 
 beneath a flag that lay close by, and un- 
 locked the door. There was no one in-
 
 ]50 THE GEANYILLES. 
 
 side, for Nelly Corcoran had gone down to 
 the hall after breakfast to assist at the 
 harvest work. After the captain had 
 stayed about twenty minutes inside, he 
 issued out again arrayed in the garb in 
 which he was first presented to the reader, 
 with the exception that his trousers were a 
 light fustian web, and his feet were covered 
 with a pair of strong pumps, without hole 
 or break. Having locked the door, and 
 returned the key to its hiding-place, he 
 passed out of the garden, accompanied by 
 the piper. Instead of taking the ridge of 
 the hill as he had done on the preceding 
 evening when he was returning to the 
 cottage, he descended in a zigzag line 
 towards the bottom of the glen, following 
 the broken line of a thick furze-crowned 
 hedge which swept down through swell 
 and hollow, mid briar and fern, and frag- 
 ments of rock, to the narrow road which 
 wound down the glen in the direction of 
 Ballydine. Having reached this road they 
 slackened their pace, and walked quietly 
 along side by side, beguiling the way in 
 cheerful conversation.
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 151 
 
 " 'Twill be a great niglit, 'tis like, at 
 the hall, when the gintlemen and the ladies 
 will be all there ; and nothin' to thronble 
 'em but fine eatin' and drinkin'," observed 
 the piper, alluding to the approaching 
 dinner-party tliat was to be given at Mr. 
 George Moore's, the owner of Brookfield 
 Hall. 
 
 ''Are you going there?" asked tlie 
 captain. 
 
 " Oh, yes," was the reply, " Masther 
 Harry tould me to be there at seven o'clock 
 for my life, and to have my pipes in full 
 hlaze, as he said. He is a droll young 
 gintleman, too ; but, by my troth there is 
 a good drop in him ; he has a heart and 
 a hand for the poor and the distressed, 
 anyway; but shure 'tis kind father for 
 him. And for the matther of that where 
 would you find, in all Ireland's ground, a 
 betther or an ancienther family than the 
 Moores of Brookfield ? 'Tisn't all as one 
 as that flintgut mother of his ; but what 
 could you expect from the Credans of 
 Moolach? they were never good, locJc, 
 stock, or barrel,'^
 
 152 THE GIUNVTLLES. 
 
 " Yes, Denny," said the captain, " where 
 the seed is not sound, much can't be ex- 
 pected from the crop. The Moores are an 
 old, sound stock. From father to son, 
 through generations, running from the 
 fountain-head of the Milesian blood, they 
 came down to the present time, Avithout 
 spot or stain on 'em — true to their country, 
 true to their religion, and — what need to 
 say it — true to their God. Denny " (placing 
 his forefinger on the piper's shoulder), " fliat 
 man is ahvaijs true to his God, ivlien he is 
 found at the side of Ills religion and his 
 country. The Moores always wore well ; 
 they had neither break nor flaw in 'em. 
 As for the Ore dans — well, the less said the 
 better ! at any rate, Harry Moore or his 
 sister. Miss Fanny, haven't a drop of 
 Credan blood in their veins : thev are the 
 real blossom from the sound old seed." 
 
 '' Ah then," interrupted Denny, '' what 
 is your notion, captain, about the Gran- 
 villes and theirselves ? — I mane, by coourse, 
 about Masther Herbert and Miss Fanny ; 
 they say he have no chance with Mrs. 
 Moore, the ould flintgut ; and that she must
 
 THE GRANVILLE S. 153 
 
 have her own way. I don't know myself 
 liow it's goin' to be, exceptin' this — that 
 the Granvilles is a match any day for the 
 Moores ; yis, for all that they aren't come 
 of the ould Mileesy stock itself — bnt it's 
 all alike ; as yoa said this minnte, the 
 Granvilles were always loyal to their God ; 
 and true to religion and counthry. Where'll 
 yon find a young gintleman equal to 
 Masther Herbert in figure and fashion, 
 and larnment, ay, and in noble blood ? 
 That's the chat, captain. Isn't he fit to be 
 the husband of the Kino- of Eno-land's 
 daughter ? But I don't know myself how 
 it's goTng to be." 
 
 " The Granvilles, Denny, are an old 
 family in Ireland," replied the captain, 
 '' they came over with Strongbow ; but 
 they always behaved like gintlemen. As 
 for Milesian blood, that's good, but we 
 must be reasonable — there's blood as good 
 as ever it was — and why not ? The Gran- 
 villes have a mixed stream in 'em, and 
 'tis all noble. They are Normans by 
 descent; and show me better blood than 
 that. They have a dash of the Danish
 
 154 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 drop in 'em, too ; and that's not to be 
 despised. And these two are strengthened 
 and sweetened with the Milesian blood, 
 dropping in, dropping in, these last seven 
 hundred years. Nothing can beat that, 
 Denny, my brick " (slapping the piper on 
 the shoulder). 
 
 By this time they had arrived at an angle 
 of the road, whence a narrow passage, 
 evidently the bed of a winter stream, 
 wound up the side of the hill on the left 
 of the road, that is the hill opposite to that 
 on which stood the captain's cottage, or 
 Glazement. The piper turned up this 
 defile ; while the captain proceeded on his 
 way towards the village. 
 
 Having arrived at the extremity of the 
 narrow road, where it joined the highway 
 leading down to the village, the captain 
 crossed over the fields in the rear of 
 Broohfield Hall, and shortly issued out at 
 the gate leading to the farmyard, where he 
 found Mr. Moore occupied in the inspection 
 of some sheep which he had recently pur- 
 chased. His large ruddy face was wet 
 with perspiration, and his broad chest,
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 155 
 
 which was only partially covered, was 
 heaving with agitation, as he fanned him- 
 self with a handkerchief which he held in 
 one hand, while he held a broad-brimmed 
 white hat in the other. 
 
 *' Hang those sheep," he was going on to 
 say, addressing himself to three or four of 
 his serving-men who were trying to turn 
 the sheep into a paddock, " hang those 
 sheep, they have already done more mis- 
 chief than they are worth ; that infernal 
 blockhead, Whitmore, hns, I fear imposed 
 upon me ; he is cunning enough at a 
 bargain, the fellow, with all his silly ways. 
 Holloa, captain, is this you ? Come along 
 with me, I want you to see to the amount 
 of these sheep, and to other little matters 
 I haven't had time to attend to." The 
 captain followed him into the coach-house. 
 *' Here," he said, pointing to the wall, 
 '' are the numbers and the prices of the 
 several classes of those sheep ; make a note 
 of them, and when you have done it, go 
 into the kitchen and tell the old steward 
 to give you the whole number of days those 
 reapers and binders have been employed,
 
 156 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 and the wages per clay at wliicli they have 
 been engaged ; he has it all on a tally. 
 I depend upon your accuracy in these 
 matters. And, look ye here, captain ; 
 after you have done this, go down to the 
 village and order up a few gallons of 
 whiskey from that curmudgeon, Peter 
 Mackey ; I want to give the workmen 
 some drink this evening. By-the-bye, 
 captain, you know there are to be a few 
 gentlemen dining with me to-day; don't 
 foro^et beino^ here then ; and mind, have 
 your best pumps on." 
 
 " All right, squire," was the reply, " I'll 
 run my craft alongside at the appointed 
 hour; and have everything snug and 
 tight." 
 
 The squire walked away, shaking his 
 stout heavy sides with laughter, as he 
 bustled across the farm-yard. The captain 
 took the glazed beehive from his head, and 
 casting his eye around at the several 
 squares and pillars of chalked arithmetic 
 which decorated it, he at length spat upon 
 one of the squares, and rubbed out the 
 figures ; then he took from his trouser's
 
 THE GEAXVILLES. 157 
 
 pocket a small cane of chalk, and copied 
 upon the vacant square tlie figures on the 
 wall. This done he placed the hat upon 
 his head, crossed over the yard, and en- 
 tered the kitchen. 
 
 " Steward ahoy ! " was his exclamation 
 as he entered. That ancient functionary 
 waddled along from the scullery when he 
 heard the summons, and bowing witli 
 mock reverence to his visitor, asked what 
 might be his honour's will and pleasure. 
 After an interchange of whimsical and 
 satirical compliments between the two 
 gentlemen, the captain demolished one of 
 the arithmetical pillars of the glazed hat, 
 and substituted therefor another pillar 
 representing the numbers of the steward's 
 notched tallies. The captain then bowed 
 graciously to the steward, waving his bee- 
 hive in the action ; to which parting salu- 
 tation the steward ducked, like a jack-in- 
 the-box ; for, to bend his back was 
 impossible, seeing that his frontal as well 
 as postern protuberance barred the opera- 
 tion. The captain, having thus far dis- 
 charged the offices imposed upon him by
 
 158 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 the squire, retraced his steps out into the 
 yard, and thence into the corn-fields, on 
 his way to the village. As he was going 
 along by the hedges, whistling a slow, sooth- 
 ing air, he encountered Paddy Larkin, the 
 man with whom we saw him in conversa- 
 tion in the corn-field on the day before. 
 Paddy was whistling too ; but it was the 
 brisker air of ''The Goose in the Bog." 
 The moment they perceived each other 
 the double melody ceased, and a mutual 
 frown passed over the visage of each. 
 The shadow, however, was only momen- 
 tary, for they saluted each other with 
 words of cheerful banter ; Paddy wheel- 
 ing round on his heel, and walking back 
 with the captain. When they came to 
 a curve in the line of the hedge by the 
 side of which they were advancing, they 
 both sat down in the shade of a larg^e oak- 
 tree, whose extended arms concealed them 
 from the view of the reapers in the field. 
 
 " Captain," said Paddy, casting a keen 
 glance into the face of his companion, 
 " did you say anything to the masther 
 yestherday about what we were saying ?
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 159 
 
 You knoY^', whatever I might say to you, 
 I wouldn't like the masther to be made the 
 wiser of it. He and the likes of 'm are 
 aginst any changes in the counthry ; and 
 so well they may, since they have the 
 crame of it all to theirselves ; and divil a 
 care they have for the poor people that's 
 wearin' their lives out to keep 'm in 
 grandeur. If I thought you tould 'm what 
 we were saying, I wouldn't like it; and 
 other people wouldn't like it either, that's 
 what I say. The masther is a good man 
 in his way, to be shure, and divil a man I 
 know of would lay a finger on him or his, 
 for the matther o' that; but yoii know, 
 and others know that he would do his best 
 to stop anything that would be goin' on 
 for our freedom ; becase why ? Shure 'tis 
 plain to be seen ; he wants for nothin' ; 
 and besides, he is afraid that when the 
 ruction would be up, may be stragglers 
 might come down on him, and whip away 
 anything from him. Believe me, captain, 
 there's wiser and longer heads than mine or 
 yours either, if you knew it, directin' this 
 business."
 
 160 THE GEANVTLLES. 
 
 '' jS[ow, Paddy Larkin," replied the 
 captain, 'S^ou are out of trim, from stem 
 to starn ; 3'Our ballast is liglit ; and what 
 you have of it, besides, is not rightly 
 stowed awa}^ Listen to me now ; lower 
 your top sails, haul in your flying jib, and 
 heave to a bit. Xow, first and foremost, I 
 said nothing to the master about you or 
 any one else of those you mean. Mind that, 
 my flying Dutchman. Mind, again, what 
 I'm going to say to you ; keep clear of 
 those that are advisino: you as-ainst sinse 
 and reason, and against the laws of God 
 and man. They have longer and wiser 
 heads is it ? I tell you what ; their heads 
 and your head will not keep company with 
 your shoulders very long if ye go on much 
 farther with your foolishness, a}^, and 
 your ivicJcedness too ; since, what else is it 
 but wlcJiedness, to be blowing under poor 
 ignorant, but innocent men, to commit 
 robbery and murder, and then to be 
 hanged and jibbeted like dogs. What is 
 it that ever and always came of this work ? 
 Did any one ever hear tell of such societies 
 and factions doing any good to king or
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 161 
 
 country, to God or man ? Blow me if I 
 did ; and I'd like to see the man that could 
 say lie did. Paddy Larkin, you're a good 
 and decent man, by family and nature, I 
 know that, and I respect you, and I re- 
 spected your father before you; but I 
 know this much, that you are led astray, 
 and that you are in the dark concerning 
 what you are about. Take my advice — the 
 advice that I always gave you — furl your 
 sails, and come to anchor, and when you 
 want to go on a cruise keep in safe water. 
 That's Jack Gorman's advice to you and 
 to all men." 
 
 As he concluded he rose and walked 
 away. His companion rose too, evidently 
 much confounded, and uncertain as to 
 "whether or not he should offer any further 
 remarks in vindication of himself and his 
 principles. After a brief pause, however, 
 he addressed a few words to his retiring 
 companion. 
 
 " Jack Gorman," he said, '' I clear you of 
 being an informer agin me or others, but 
 you're not the man to tell me what to do. I 
 am advised by some of the brightest men 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 in Ireland. And tliey know wliat's 
 best." 
 
 He then walked away, and joined tlie 
 reapers. 
 
 The captain resumed his quiet whistle, 
 and proceeded on his w^aj across the fields, 
 until he reached the mountain road, down 
 w^hich he passed without any interruption 
 until he arrived at the Cross, and entered 
 the shop of Peter Mackey. 
 
 Peter was standing behind his little 
 counter, arranging various bottles, jars, 
 and small parcels upon shelves, and 
 titavating, as he expressed it, his little 
 concerns. Peter was a man of no small 
 importance in the village, at least, so he 
 thought himself, and so did others. Like 
 other great men, he had risen from small 
 beginnings by industry and perseverance, 
 but more than all, as his neighbours be- 
 lieved and said, by cuthery, that is, cunning. 
 He had thus risen to comparative indepen- 
 dence and comfort. 
 
 He was a coarse, vulgar-looking man, 
 with a large red nose, an awkward gait, 
 and watchful grey eyes. It was said by
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 163 
 
 all who knew liim well that he was not over- 
 burdened with patriotism, though few were 
 louder in their admiration of O'Connel and 
 Eepeal. He was a favourite with the gentry 
 all round, whether O'ConneHtes or anti- 
 O'Connelites, Repealers or anti-Repealers, 
 and agreed with them all ; taking care, 
 however, to lean always towards the views 
 of those whose influence and wealth and 
 power were in the ascendant, especially 
 whenanyoneofthemhappenedtobepresent, 
 or, which was the same thing, when any 
 of their servants happened to be purchas- 
 ing anything in the shop, or taking a quiet 
 drop in the little back parlour. In short, 
 Peter Mackey was a diplomatist; no better or 
 worse than those of his species] who went 
 before him in all grades and classes, or who 
 were to come after him in due order of suc- 
 cession. His back was turned towards the 
 captain when the latter entered the shop. 
 
 ''Ship ahoy, thereV' exclaimed the 
 captain. 
 
 Peter hustled round, presenting his nose 
 to the voice, and grinning with anticipated 
 delight. 
 
 M 2
 
 164 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 '* Jingo, captain; jingo tliere," was tlie 
 response. 
 
 '' How does your hull bear up against 
 time and weatlier, my copper-fastened 
 clipper," inquired tlie captain. 
 
 '' Come, captain, none of your outlandish 
 lingo this morning; I'm not, to say, fit 
 for hard sparring this morning ; my 
 dandher is not rightly settled down since 
 last night. I tell you what, captain" (here 
 he pressed his big lips together, and gave 
 an ominous shake of the head), ''the times is 
 enough to make honest people look sharp-7- 
 jingo, there." 
 
 " Peter," replied the captain, closing 
 one of his eyes, and piercing his neighbour 
 with the other, '' there is no man I know 
 of who can see breakers ahead clearer, even 
 with one eye, than your four bones. You 
 are a jewel, Peter ; but never mind. Send 
 up four gallons of whiskey (don't trouble 
 putting water in it, reserve that civility 
 for your other friends) to the Hall this 
 evening early — there's the order," taking 
 off the glazed beehive and presenting one 
 of the chalked parallelograms to the gaze 
 of the publican.
 
 THE GEAXVILLES. 165 
 
 '' All square, captain," said Peter, " I 
 have as good spirits as ever dribbled from 
 a worm ; and tlie man who says that I 
 ever touch it with a drop of water doesn't 
 know the proprietor of the sign of the 
 ' Golden Sheaf,' that's all I say. Come 
 along, follow me, my ould sea-dog. I want 
 to give you a trial of this new dribble," 
 and he passed into a small room at the 
 end of the counter, followed by the cap- 
 tain. 
 
 '' See here," he observed, as soon as they 
 were in the room, " that damned rascal, 
 Paddy Larkin, and about half a dozen of 
 his comrades were here last night, and a 
 nice row they got up with some respect- 
 able men that came in, and were taking a 
 little refreshment. I must give Mr. Moore 
 a touch of my mind about that fellow — 
 but you needn't say anything. Jingo is 
 the word. Now, look at that spirit" 
 (holding up a bottle to the captain's view), 
 " and tell me, isn't it the danchj f Taste it 
 now ; there, that much, just to be able to 
 say that it's the rale sort." 
 
 The captain, having tasted the whiskey —
 
 166 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 barely tasted it, for lie never drank spirits, 
 except when in his own cottage he enjoyed 
 a tumbler of punch with a friend — he pro- 
 nounced it good ; he then wished the 
 publican good-bye, and walked out of the 
 shop. 
 
 No sooner had he disappeared than 
 Peter commenced a preparation by which 
 lie increased a certain quantity of the 
 spirit into double its bulk, after which he 
 filled a large jar, not with the compound, 
 but with the pure spirit, and despatched 
 a small boy and an ass with it to the 
 hall. 
 
 Towards the close of the evening the 
 Hall and its environs presented a busy 
 and bustling scene. The servants inside 
 were busily occupied in preparations for 
 the dinner-party, running to and fro, and 
 shouting out orders and counter-orders 
 from every part of the house ; while the 
 reapers and binders, mingled with beggars 
 and stragglers of all sexes and sizes, were 
 enjoying themselves in the farmyard in 
 drinking, singing, dancing, and caperiag, 
 with scarce an intermission.
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 167 
 
 Tlie harvest liad been nearly completed, 
 and hence the last great gathering of the 
 out-door labourers for the season was 
 celebrated with all the hilarity and enthu- 
 siasm which became the occasion. Paddy 
 Larkin and Anty Dreelin were footing it out 
 to the best music of Denny Mullins, who 
 volunteered to play a few tunes for the 
 saJce of the hoys and girls, and not for any 
 lucre. He scorned that, for they were all 
 the boys and girls of the place, and he 
 wasn't jpartildar. 
 
 The captain made his appearance on the 
 scene, and was loudly greeted and called 
 upon to dance a hornpipe ; but he declined, 
 because, as he said, he was not in proper 
 trim. Some of the neighbouring farmers' 
 sons and daughters were also there, and 
 took part in the dance — Peggy Cummins 
 and Judy Casey, with Ned Doolin and 
 Bill Cleary were especially conspicuous, 
 and won much admiration for their gay 
 and agreeable demeanour. 
 
 When the merriment was at its height, 
 and while Denny the piper was in full 
 blaze, accompanying the shrill music of his
 
 168 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 clianter witli the still more piercing music 
 of his voice, as he shouted to the dancers 
 to " mind their steps," and to '' heel and 
 toe it," with the exclamations — '' That's 
 you, Ned Doolin, drive it home ; " ''Glory 
 to you, Peggy Cummins ; " " Now, Bill 
 Cleary, clinch it, your sowl ; " '' Long life 
 to you, Judy Casey; — hee-e-e ! hee-e-e ! " at 
 this auspicious moment the shuffling and 
 burly figure of Peter Mackey, the publican, 
 with its red nose, appeared in the yard. 
 This seemed to have given a still loftier 
 swing to the hilarity. 
 
 Peter was a man of rather doubtful 
 popularity; he was suspected of being 
 rather unfavourable to the general views 
 entertained by his customers on political 
 subjects, and this greatly diminished the 
 confidence which he would otherwise have 
 secured through the medium of his friendly 
 and apparently confiding character. At 
 any rate, he was generally regarded as a 
 " cute, sensible man," who minded his own 
 business, and acted civilly towards his 
 customers. When he made his appearance 
 on the present occasion, there arose a
 
 THE GR ANVIL LES. 169 
 
 general cheer for laim; a clieer, wliicli, 
 doubtless, contained a large vein of irony ; 
 but Peter wasn't particular as to the nature 
 of the concealed feelings — he was conver- 
 sant enough in that species of disguise 
 himself; he therefore returned the compli- 
 ment, to all appearance with interest, 
 exclaiming, as he waved his hat, and 
 elevated his nose, — 
 
 " Long life to vees, ladiesand gentlemen; 
 and to you, Denny MuUins, and not for- 
 getting the captain here " (the captain's 
 countenance assumed a comic expression 
 at this moment) ; '' long life, and many 
 happy years to yees all;" here he took 
 from his coat pockets three or four bottles 
 of whiskey, and holding them to view, 
 exclaimed, — '^ Jingo, there! and now, boys, 
 it'll do yees no harm to take a small drop 
 from me." 
 
 The applause which followed this action 
 and speech was deafening. The glasses 
 and cups were in requisition immediately ; 
 and healths and jokes went round, all 
 tending to the health and happiness, and 
 fame and glory of Peter Mackey.
 
 170 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 At this time the sounds of carriages and 
 of horsemen were heard in front of the 
 mansion. The dinner-party was assem- 
 bhng. The Hall was all astir. The 
 steward rolled his huge bulk from pantry 
 to kitchen, and from kitchen to dining- 
 room, ordering, counter-ordering, approv- 
 ing, condemning, growling, coughing, 
 sneezing, aud staggering. The announce- 
 ment of guests to the drawing-room 
 proceeded in rapid succession — Mr. Credan, 
 Mrs. and Miss Credan, Mr. Whitmore, 
 Rev. Dr. Markham, Mr. Granville and Miss 
 Granville, Sir Michael Carey, the Misses 
 Carey, Rev. Mr. Grigger, and some others. 
 Mr. Moore was in high glee, and talked 
 about his sheep, his corn crop, and the 
 prices of farm stock. Mrs. Moore was 
 delighted with the good looks, and the 
 charming dresses of the Misses Carey, and 
 expatiated on the elegance and propriety 
 of style and contrast. The Misses Moore, 
 Credan, and Granville were bubbling with 
 joy and felicitation. All appeared smiling 
 and happy, like an unclouded summer's 
 day. After a little time dinner was
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 171 
 
 announced, and Mr. Moore took in tlie 
 Misses Carej, one on either side ; Sir 
 Micliael gave his arm to Mrs. Moore ; Mr. 
 Whitmore approached Miss Moore with his 
 arm raised, but the lady happening to 
 catch the eye of Mr. Granville, at the 
 time glided round and took his arm ; while 
 Miss Credan took the arm of Mr. Whit- 
 more; Master Harry and Miss Granville 
 went in together, and the remaining 
 gentlemen followed. The Rev. Dr. Mark- 
 ham said grace, and the feast was 
 inaugurated. 
 
 Mr. Granville, who sat a little below the 
 head of the table on the left side with Miss 
 Moore on his right, was replying to some 
 observation addressed to him by Mr. 
 Moore, when Miss Moore, with a coun- 
 tenance a little flushed and bent, evidently 
 eudeavouring to suppress a titter, touched 
 his elbow, and said in a low voice, — 
 
 " For mercy, look over." 
 
 He glanced across the table, and met the 
 eyes of Whitmore rivetted upon him, with 
 an expression of such ludicrous intensity 
 as made him inclined to laugh outright,
 
 172 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 but he restrained himself, and observed to 
 Miss Moore, — 
 
 '' Such a droll expression ! what can be 
 the matter with him ? ' ' 
 
 "I think," replied the lady, still 
 labouring to suppress the laughter that 
 was struggling for vent, " I think that he 
 is calculating the importance and influence 
 of landed property." 
 
 Herbert G-ranville smiled ; and after a 
 few seconds observed, — 
 
 ** Isn't he a worshipper of yours ? " 
 
 '' Oh dear, yes," was the reply, " a most 
 indefatigable one ; can't you see how woe- 
 begone he looks ; he is dying for the 
 opportunity of investing me with the 
 splendour of his lofty attributes of power 
 and genius." 
 
 ''Oh, I know," rejoined Herbert, "his 
 power of wealth, and genius for intrigue 
 form his constant boast. I fear I am in 
 danger, and, perhaps," looking into 
 Fanny's eyes with a meaning smile, '' I am 
 not quite safe either. The influence of 
 parents and friends is sometimes a dan- 
 gerous impediment in the domain of love.
 
 THE GRANVILLE S. 173 
 
 But jet, I suppose jou won't permit me 
 to despair ? " 
 
 " Take care of yourself," whispered 
 Fanny, " the fleetest hound, as papa says, 
 is not always first in at the death." 
 
 Mr. Whitmore, in the meantime, had 
 directed his attention to Miss Credan, who 
 appeared quite enchained with his conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " I say, Whitmore," exclaimed Sir 
 Michael, " how is that field of turnips of 
 yours promising." 
 
 " Oh, 'tis cracJco, I tell you, Sir Michael. 
 Every one of 'em as big as your head, and 
 a stone to the yard. I know how to 
 handle the acres ; maybe, I shall make a 
 round two hundred out of that field, be- 
 sides what shall go to the farm-yard." 
 
 '' Ha ! ha ! " exclaimed the baronet, '' if 
 any man can do it, I wager you're that 
 man. You always keep a close eye on the 
 profits, Whitmore— not the proj^hets of the 
 Lord, though, ha ! ha ! ha ! " 
 
 The other gentlemen joined in the laugh, 
 and so did the ladies except Mrs. Moore, 
 who looked a little ruffled. Mr. Yfhitmore
 
 174 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 grinned, and plunged into the plate before 
 liim. 
 
 '' I am glad to perceive that tlie general 
 crop is good this year," observed the Rev. 
 Mr. GriofQfer, the Protestant rector. 
 
 " Impossible for it to be better," said 
 Mr. Moore, '' except, perhaps, the hay 
 crop, which is not so Iicslyj as it might 
 be : that's owing to the early drought." 
 
 " I venture to say now," interposed 
 Sir Michael, *' that Mr. Whitmore's hay 
 crop was more than an average this 
 year." 
 
 Mr. Whitmore, who was at this time 
 engaged with the leg of a turkey and with 
 the eloquence of Miss Credan, turned round, 
 without, however, relinquishing the bone ; 
 in doing so, his elbow came in contact 
 with his wine-glass, the contents of which 
 dropped into the dress of the lady. Thus, 
 in replying to the observation o£ Sir 
 Michael, and stammering out an apology 
 at the same time, for the accident of the 
 wine-glass, a strange confusion of ideas 
 flowed from him. 
 
 " Oh, yes, very good — down — cracko
 
 THE GEA^'VILLES. li 
 
 — marshy soil — all wet, Miss Credan — ex- 
 cuse — the dry weather — 'twas a blunder 
 — in the season, only served — your dress 
 — at the right time — to make it all right, 
 Sir Michael, with my crop, — Miss Credan, 
 pardon me." 
 
 " Miss Carey, the pleasure of wine ? " 
 said Mr. Moore, bowing to that lady. 
 
 Mr. "Whitmore hearing the word wine, 
 and coupling it with the accident, cried 
 out, '' Only an accident, Mr. Moore ; the 
 glass turned, Miss Credan got a little on 
 her dress." 
 
 The ladies smiled. Mr. Moore now 
 directing his conversation to the Rev. Dr. 
 Markham, the Catholic ^^riest, observed 
 that a great change for the better was 
 latterly apparent upon the face of the 
 country, the tillage was greatly improved, 
 and the people seemed more alive to the 
 advantage of a rotation of crops. The 
 Rev. Dr. concurred in the remarks of Mr. 
 Moore, and said that Ireland needed reposo 
 from disturbing influences ; if the 23eople 
 were more impressed with the necessity 
 of steady industry and self-reliance the
 
 176 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 country could not fail to advance in pros- 
 perity and peace. 
 
 "No doubt of it, no doubt of it," ob- 
 served Sir Micbael, ''I never could agree 
 in tlie -wisdom of this everlasting agitation 
 whicli has prevailed throughout the country 
 so long. It is calculated to unsettle the 
 minds of the people, and to turn them from 
 the pursuits of honest and useful industry. 
 I never myself objected to the justice and 
 reasonableness of the demand for Catholic 
 emancipation, as urged by O'Connel; in 
 fact, it was always to me a matter of sur- 
 prise how so reasonable a measure could 
 have been withheld so long, but this 
 grievance being removed, I don't see why 
 the country should be still kept seething 
 in the whirlpool of agitation." 
 
 '' Your views are quite in accordance 
 with my own on that point. Sir Michael," 
 observed Dr. Markham ; '' persistent agi- 
 tation upon subjects of questionable im- 
 portance is attended, and must ever be 
 attended with injurious results to the 
 morals and social habits of the people." 
 
 " If every one was of my mind," inter-
 
 THE GEANVJLLES. 177 
 
 posed Mr. Whitmore, " I know liow all 
 agitators shoald be served." 
 
 '' How, Whitmore ?" asked Mr. Moore. 
 
 " How ! why, thej should be hanged at 
 every tree and housetop throughout the 
 country where they dared to show their 
 noses. That's my receipt for the cure of 
 agitation." 
 
 A general laugh followed this shrewd 
 observation. 
 
 '' I must say," observed the Eev. Dr. 
 Markham, '^ that your remedy has at least 
 the merit of simplicity ; but I question 
 whether it is exactly in accordance with 
 the spirit of the British constitution." 
 
 "Oh," observed Sir Michael, "Mr. 
 Whitmore generally goes by the spirit of 
 his own constitution, and allows the British 
 one to take care of itself ." 
 
 The cloth having been removed, Mr. 
 Moore asked the gentlemen to fill their 
 glasses. He then proposed to them the 
 health of the king, and in doing so, said 
 that he admired the Sovereign who now 
 sat upon the British throne on account of 
 his many virtues and exalted qualities. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 He was a Sovereign wlio governed in the 
 spirit of even-handed justice to all ; and 
 no matter how men might differ in their 
 opinions as to this or that measure — no 
 matter what political party might hold 
 the reins for the time being, he maintained 
 that the Sovereign, whose principles and 
 actions showed him to be moved only by 
 one consideration, that is, the general 
 welfare and happiness of his people, was 
 entitled to the respect and support of every 
 honourable man. He now asked them to 
 drink health and long life to His Majesty 
 the Kiug. The whole company rose, and 
 the toast was received with enthusiasm. 
 
 After the cheering had subsided, Mr. 
 Whitmore rose. He exhibited consider- 
 able nncertainty in his appearance and 
 bearing, his hands were moving up and 
 down in his trousers' pockets, his lower 
 lip hung, while the right corner of his 
 mouth was slightly curled ; his eyes, which 
 were misty, wandered slowly up and down 
 the table as if in search of admiration, and 
 his head kept pace with their movement. 
 After a preliminary cough or two, he
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 179 
 
 opened by observing, tbat lie was mucli 
 pleased with the loyalty shown by the 
 toast, and then continued, — 
 
 ** I like all men to show their true 
 colours, cracJi'oif I don't — the loyal man who 
 never flinches from his post, as well as 
 the man whose heart is opposed to our 
 king and constitution, no matter what his 
 tongue may utter. That's me, straight 
 up, and straight down — no mistake in me. 
 And I maintain that it is only the landed 
 interest that's loyal in this country. There 
 are men who have no pretensions — who 
 can have no pretensions to loyalty " (here 
 his eyes rolled in their misty orbits and 
 rested upon Herbert Grranville) ; "to such 
 men, I say, show yourselves in your true 
 colours, and don't be hiding in the dark." 
 (Herbert here flashed a look at the speaker, 
 a look of mingled sarcasm, contempt, and 
 ridicule). " I will commence to show the 
 points of view in which I consider the 
 question of loyalty." 
 
 The ladies rose to retire ; some of the 
 gentlemen also rose to see them out, and the 
 orator being left without an audience.
 
 180 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 looked for a moment considerably bewil- 
 dered; lie then, after looking slowly, and 
 very apislily around liim, fixed his eyes on a 
 decanter and filled himself a glass of wine. 
 Lifting it to his lips, he said, " Here's to all 
 real loyal men, and time hlues,^^ and he swal- 
 lowed the libation. Then resuming his seat, 
 he leantback and commenced a low, scarcely 
 audible whistle, to which he kept time with 
 his large purple hands upon the table. 
 The gentlemen resumed their seats, and 
 commenced a running conversation upon 
 various topics. 
 
 At length Mr. Moore rose, and said that 
 he desired to propose a toast. The toast 
 he wished to give them, and he felt great 
 pleasure in proposing it, was the health of 
 his worthy friend. Sir Michael Carey. 
 
 ** I need not," he continued, '' dwell 
 at any length on the merits of that gentle- 
 man in the presence of those who know 
 him as well as you do. As a landed pro- 
 prietor he stands forth an encouraging- 
 example to us all, as respects those various 
 duties which we owe to our depen- 
 dents and tenantry, as well as to the in-
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 181 
 
 terests of tlie country at large (hear, 
 hear). He is one whom we are always 
 dehghted to meet in the social circle, for 
 his manners and bearing shed a lustre upon 
 the festive board. And whether at ses- 
 sions, or county meetings, or in the jury- 
 room, or on the public platform, he is 
 equally worthy of imitation by all who have 
 the peace and prosperity of the country at 
 heart." 
 
 The toast was drunk with enthusiasm ; 
 all shouting out in unison the name of Sir 
 Michael Carey. 
 
 That gentleman then rose to return 
 thanks. He said, '' Gentlemen, I cannot 
 sufficiently express the gratification which 
 I feel from the compliment which has been 
 paid me by my venerable friend and neigh- 
 bour, our worthy host, and also by you, gen- 
 tlemen, in the hearty manner in which you 
 have received his kind, and I must say flat- 
 tering expression of sentiment towards me. 
 I have always endeavoured, it is true, to dis- 
 charge, as far as my ability has enabled me, 
 the duties which I owe to the various interests 
 with which I am directly or indirectly con-
 
 182 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 nected ; but I fear that I Lave fallen short 
 of the full accomplishment of my desires 
 in that respect. However, we must all 
 aim at the best, and strive to fulfil, accord- 
 ing to our various abilities and opportuni- 
 ties, the offices which society and the coun- 
 try at large demand at our hands. Now, 
 gentlemen, I shall invite you to join me in a 
 toast which I am sure I need only mention 
 in order to call forth your cordial approval. 
 I give you, without a word of preface — 
 for the toast will speak for itself — I give 
 you the health, prosperity, and long and 
 happy life of our host, Mr. Moore." 
 
 All rose to their legs, and the name of 
 Mr. Moore rang along the ceiling, with 
 three times three, and again, and again. 
 
 Ere the echo of the last cheer had died 
 away, Mr. "Whitmore, who had been all 
 this time leaning back in his chair and 
 surveying the ceiling, except when he rose 
 to join in the toasts, gathered himself up, 
 wath an appearance of vigorous importance, 
 clenching his thick lips, and swelling out 
 his eyes, and after a muddled glance to the 
 head of the table, rose, and said,^^
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 183 
 
 " Mr. Moore, and gentlemen — I mean, 
 landed proprietors of the county — such 
 are the men I mean to address, for they 
 are the real loyal men and true blues, I 
 don't care one cracko for any other 
 man, for I am straight up and straight 
 down." 
 
 " Rather doubtful," interrupted Sir 
 Michael, laughing. 
 
 "I repeat it," resumed Mr. "Whitmore. 
 
 " Ob, never mind repeatmg it," inter- 
 rupted Mr. Moore, rising; which action 
 was simultaneously followed by the other 
 gentlemen, and all proceeded to the draw- 
 ing-room to join the ladies. Mr. Whitmore 
 sat down, yawned, and filling himself 
 another glass, drank to the health of the 
 "real loyal, and the true blues. ^^ Then, 
 looking moodily around, he got up, and 
 strolled into the drawing-room. 
 
 The ladies occupied themselves by turn 
 at the piano, playing some of those exquisite 
 Irish airs, which Moore has so happily 
 clothed in Englisli dress ; while Harry 
 Moore was playfully assuring them of the 
 relationship existing between himself and
 
 184 THE GEx\NVILLES. 
 
 tlie poet, more particularly in the sestlietic 
 sense, representing himself as being some- 
 times carried away by an extraordinary 
 flow of inspiration, which raised him to 
 the loftiest reo^ion of songf. 
 
 In the meantime, Sir Michael Carey and 
 the E-ey. Dr. Markham were discussing 
 topics of political interest as they sat half 
 reclining on a couch in a distant corner of 
 the room. 
 
 " I cannot," observed Sir Michael, 
 " agree in the propriety, or indeed in the 
 ultimate utility of O'Connel's movements. 
 As a Catholic I have always felt that our 
 disabiUties — those political and religious 
 disabilities — under which we have so long 
 suffered, should be removed ; they were not 
 calculated to subserve any useful purpose 
 that I could ever see, but on the contrary 
 they tended to weaken the empire by 
 stimulating to periodical convulsions, and 
 engendering bad feeling. Now, however, 
 we have nothing to complain of in this 
 respect. The last link, I may say, in the 
 chain of bondage is broken by the Eman- 
 cipation Act, and therefore, there should
 
 THE GKANVILLES. 185 
 
 be a cessation of that agitation and turmoil 
 wliich, however excusable or even justi- 
 fiable under former circumstances, can 
 serve no useful purpose at the present 
 moment. I must confess I cannot under- 
 stand the wisdom of attempting to re- 
 peal the Act of Union. I think, and I 
 have ever entertained the opinion, that a 
 return to the old state of things would not 
 be for the better. A united Parliament is 
 better for these islands than a political 
 system of disjointed action." 
 
 " It is not at all very clear," said Dr. 
 Markham, "that a repeal of the Union 
 would be attended with all the blessings 
 that its advocates foreshadow. Possibly 
 it would entail greater evils than those we 
 are now labouring under. In the present 
 state of the world a consolidation of empire 
 would appear to be the consummation to 
 which statesmen and politicians should 
 direct their efforts. A divided family is as 
 much, exposed to evil fortune in a political, 
 as in the domestic sense. Their interests 
 are made to flow in contrary channels, and 
 weakness and exposure to danger from
 
 186 IHE GEAXYILLES. 
 
 witliin and from without must necessarily 
 follow. At the same time the British 
 Government does not appear to regard us 
 in the light of an integral portion of the 
 empire, at least the laws are so framed as 
 to justify this view of the case. I speak 
 now altogether with reference to the re- 
 ligious question. That England being 
 Protestant, should be compelled by law to 
 support her own religious establishment is 
 a matter which may or may not be con- 
 sidered wise or judicious, according to the 
 predominant opinion of Englishmen ; but 
 that Ireland, being Catholic, should be 
 forced, under the operation of law, to 
 maintain a religious establishment not her 
 own, admiits of no justification in argument. 
 If, therefore, a repeal of the Union would 
 tend to the removal of this manifest in- 
 justice, it would unquestionably be pro- 
 ductive of at least one good result; a 
 result too not alone beneficial to this 
 portion of the empire, but also to the 
 whole, by the kindly feeling which would 
 thereby be made to supplant the existing 
 rancour. But would this consequence
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 187 
 
 necessarily flow from a repeal of the Act 
 of Union ? I doubt it myself, I am sorry 
 to say, and I have more than one reason 
 for entertaining such doubt. However, if 
 this anomaly regarding the Church Esta- 
 blishment could be removed by British 
 legislation, apart from the repeal of the 
 Union, I should much prefer it. It is 
 certainly a matter for congratulation that 
 those unhappy restrictions and disabilities 
 which have so long stamped their degrading 
 marks upon us, have been at length re- 
 moved. And although it is pretty gene- 
 rally believed that no important advantages 
 will accrue to our country from this 
 measure of emancipation, yet it must be 
 confessed that its spirit and essence 
 breathes of such advantages: they may not 
 be brought into view at once ; they may be 
 obscured by imprudent action or by in- 
 judicious manipulation for a time ; but I 
 think that ultimately they must evolve 
 themselves as inseparable and inherent 
 results, contained in the principle of the 
 measure. There is one subject, however, 
 which, in my mind, overtops all others in
 
 188 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 its bearing upon tlie material and social 
 advancement of this portion of the empire. 
 I mean that of the relation subsisting be- 
 tween the owners and occupiers of the Irish 
 soil. This is a subject which should com- 
 mand the attention of British statesmen be- 
 yond any other that relates to this country. 
 Ireland can never advance in any depart- 
 ment of national (if I may use the word) 
 prosperity as long as the present anomaly, 
 for it is an anomaly, involved in the tenure 
 and use of the soil is permitted to 
 continue." 
 
 " I do not at all disagree with you on that 
 point," said Sir Michael, " but a repeal of 
 the Union would not, in my opinion, effect 
 any good in that way. The British Parlia- 
 ment ought to be able, and, doubtless, is 
 able to provide the remedy necessary to the 
 removal of this evil. I have always felt 
 the importance of this subject ; and I have 
 always practised as I have preached in this 
 particular, as you know, doctor." 
 
 The doctor smiled his assent, and Sir 
 Michael continued, — 
 
 " It is not the sentimental consideration
 
 THE GEANYILLES. 189 
 
 of not being allowed to let their land 
 according to the terms which under every 
 varying combination of circumstances may 
 be secured — it is not this the landowners 
 dread in any change of the law ; their real 
 apprehension arises from the possibility of 
 the tenants becoming independent occupiers 
 of the soil; for in that event — an event 
 that I think in very many, or rather in 
 most instances would unquestionably arise 
 — the political power of the landowners 
 would decline. There is, indeed, no 
 question that the existing state of the law 
 is replete with injury to the solid interests 
 of this country. In England, it is true, the 
 occupier of the soil is not favoured by any 
 special enactment for his protection against 
 the arbitrary will of the landowner, but 
 then, in England, unlike to what prevails 
 in Ireland, there is a substantial public 
 opinion, which is a law stronger than some 
 enactments and which bends the English 
 landowner as with a chord of adamant. 
 There is no public opinion in Ireland 
 worth a pinch of snuff. This eternal 
 meeting and hurrooing throughout the
 
 190 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 country is not a public opinion. I believe 
 O'Connel means well — of that I have no 
 doubt, for I cannot see what object he can 
 have in meaning otherwise : but it does not 
 follow from this fact that his conduct and 
 proceedings are not calculated to do much 
 injury — and injury of a permanent nature 
 too. Now that emancipation is carried, 
 he should cease this turbulent agitation, and 
 allow rational scope and play to the new 
 political system. If this senseless move- 
 ment for a repeal of the Union should go 
 on, the fruits of emancipation will as- 
 suredly be lost, for the representation of 
 Ireland will be thrown into the hands of 
 half-educated and needy men, which can 
 have no other issue than a certain dis- 
 appointment to the hopes of the country. 
 Such men can have no possible weight in 
 the British House of Commons ; and I am 
 sure, doctor, you will agree with me when 
 I say that the only weight they desire to 
 have is that of rubbish in turnino^ a scale 
 — they will vote with the Minister for the 
 promise of some paltry office, and then their 
 Constituencies will be either forced by
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 191 
 
 bribery and intimidation to retain their 
 precious services, or to elect others not one 
 whit better than them. That is what I fore- 
 see as the likely result of this swagger- 
 ing, speech- making system of agitation 
 which is overspreading the country like a 
 miasma,'^ 
 
 At this moment the Eev. Mr. Grrigger 
 and Herbert Granville crossed over from 
 another corner of the room, and joined 
 Sir Michael and Dr. Markham. 
 
 "We are just talking of O'Connel's 
 meetings and agitation, Mr. Grigger," 
 observed Sir Michael, turning round on 
 the couch, and addressing that reverend 
 gentleman ; " I am saying to Dr. Markham 
 that they can be productive of little or no 
 good." 
 
 "Why that is the very subject that 
 myself and my young friend here, Mr. 
 Granville, have been discussing since we 
 came into the room. My young friend 
 thinks that agitation when wisely directed 
 is beneficial ; and in that I agree with him, 
 but w^e differ as to the wise direction of 
 the present agitation. In fact, my opinion
 
 192 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 is that O'Connel means a revolution — in 
 plain terms, lie desires, as I believe, to 
 throw open the door to robbery, plunder, 
 and bloodshed. What is your opinion, 
 Dr. Markham?" 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Grigger," replied the doctor, 
 smiling, "I do not at all think as you do ; on 
 the contrary, I believe that O'Connel is as 
 much averse to revolution, that is, to a 
 physical and blood-stained revolution, as 
 you and I are. At the same time I do not 
 see that his mode of proceeding, his pro- 
 miscuous and irregular gatherings of the 
 labouring and dissatisfied classes, is cal- 
 culated to effect any good. Quite the 
 contrary. Those classes have no interest 
 in the question of whether or not the Act 
 of Union ought to be repealed, for I really 
 believe that if it was repealed to-morrow, 
 no substantial good would follow to them 
 from such repeal. At least, Ireland is not 
 prepared at the present moment — and God 
 only knows when her time of preparedness 
 is to arrive — to enter upon a career of 
 self-government. Well, whenever that 
 time comes, those who shall then live,
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 193 
 
 will use it, I liope, for tlie national 
 benefit." 
 
 '' I have been endeavouring," observed 
 Herbert Granville, with a playful grace, 
 " to convince Mr. G-rigger of the advan- 
 tages- of self-rule or home administration ; 
 but he will not view the matter in the 
 same light with me." 
 
 As Herbert was proceeding, Mr. Whit- 
 more, or Joe Whitmore, as he was familiarly 
 called, came up from the direction of the 
 ladies ; and catching the last words of the 
 speaker, interrupted him by saying, — 
 
 " Nor do I either see it in the same light ; 
 nor does any gentleman of property see 
 it either. Cracko ! it would be a pretty 
 thing if we did." 
 
 Sir Michael, looking up with a rather 
 comic expression of countenance, said, — 
 
 "Why, Joe, that property of yours 
 hangs like a mill-stone around your neck ; 
 it won't strangle you though — it has been 
 fairly got — ha! ha! ha!" and the 
 baronet laughed heartily, the more so when 
 he saw Joe protruding his chest, and 
 eyeing his own person with evident self- 
 
 VOL. ].
 
 194 THE GRAxNYILLES. 
 
 complacency. Here Sir Micliael rose, and 
 accompanied by Dr. Markliam and Herbert 
 approaclied the ladies, wlio were pressing 
 Miss Moore to sing. Sir Micliael backed 
 tliem in their request ; but still she 
 manifested an unwillingness to comply. 
 As they continued their request, she 
 sought Herbert's eye, and immediately 
 rising she approached the piano, and 
 sang an air of exquisite pathos and 
 melody, in a voice singularly sweet and 
 tender. 
 
 " How sweet is the light of the morning 
 When May decks the meadows with flowers ! 
 How sweet is the woodbine adorning 
 The foliage of bright Summer bowers ! 
 But sweeter to me is the beaming 
 The eyes of Affection impart, 
 When gently it touches, bright-streaming, 
 The answering chords of my heart. 
 
 " How sweet is the voice of the nightingale 
 
 Tuning her song in the grove ! 
 
 How sweet are the echoes of glen and dale 
 
 Muttering the accents of love ! 
 
 But sweeter to me are the soft words 
 From the lips of Affection that roll, — 
 And sweeter their touch on the light chords 
 That thrill 'mid the depths of my soul."
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 195 
 
 Having concluded the song, slie rose 
 from the piano, and walked towards 
 another part of the room with her aunt, 
 Mrs. Credan, who had motioned her to 
 follow her ; while Miss Carej, at the re- 
 quest of Mr. Moore, whose solicitation 
 was supported by the Eev. Dr. Markham 
 and the Rev. Mr. Grigger, and others pre- 
 sent, sat to the piano, and commenced one 
 of Moore's melodies. 
 
 "Xow, my dear Fanny," said Mrs. 
 Credan, addressing Miss Moore, when they 
 were alone and unobserved : '* now, my 
 dear Fanny, I do not think that you are 
 acting properly — I mean, that you are not 
 doing exactly the right thing in behaving 
 so coolly towards Mr. Whitmore this 
 evening. I fear he has observed some- 
 thing — that is, I fear he suspects that you 
 are rather attentive to that young man, 
 Granville. Of course, I know that you 
 are merely kind to him, poor young man, 
 on account of his misfortunes, and those 
 of his family; and that is a praiseworthy 
 feeling, for we should always avoid wound- 
 ing the feelings of the unfortunate : but 
 2
 
 19G THE GllANVILLES. 
 
 then tliere is a medium, you know, a 
 certain point beyond which we shouldn't 
 go even in our kindness and charitable 
 intentions ; because we are liable in such 
 cases to offend those of our own rank, 
 or circumstances, or — you know what 1 
 mean. There is Mr. Whitmore, who is so 
 much attached to you, and who, of course, 
 expects your undivided attention, that is, 
 with a due regard to a proper observance 
 of the rules of politeness towards others ; 
 — he has evidently noticed something this 
 evening. You haven't paid him that 
 attention which you ought. Mr. Gran- 
 ville may be well enough in his way ; but 
 that's all. He can have no pretensions to 
 aspire to your hand ; — and see, my dear, 
 you should never by word or act encourage 
 him to anything so foolish. Now, let me 
 beg of you to go over to Mr. Whitmore, 
 and let him understand that your feelings 
 are with him : show him that nothing can 
 inflaence you to place your happiness out 
 of his keeping." 
 
 Here Miss Moore burst into a fit of 
 laughter; after which she said, still
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 197 
 
 agitated by the emotions of ridicule excited 
 by ber aunt's observations, — 
 
 " What in the world, my dear aunt, 
 makes you imagine that I entertain any 
 feeling for Mr. AYhitmore, beyond that of 
 the merest neighbourly regard ? Surely, 
 you don't suppose that I am smitten by 
 him, or that my heart is carried captive by 
 the force of his all- conquering charms ? " 
 and here again she gave vent to her feelings 
 of merriment. 
 
 Mrs. Credan looked very solemn; she 
 crossed her arms over her bosom, pressed 
 her lips, and looked inquiringly into the 
 eyes of her niece. She then said, — 
 
 " Fanny, listen to me now : I expected 
 more deference to my opinions from you 
 than you seem willing to give them. I 
 have always felt an interest in you, and I 
 have made it a point to study the means of 
 promoting your welfare. You are called 
 after me. Fanny is a Credan family name ; 
 it does not belong to the Moores. It came 
 do^v^n to our family through the great 
 O'Phouls, who were descended from the 
 clan MacGlower; and it has passed on
 
 198 THE GRAT^VILLES. 
 
 century after century, I don't know liow 
 many indeed, but tliey are very many ; I 
 say it has passed on century after century, 
 througli the various branches of our race, 
 and now you and I share it between us as 
 the latest representatives of the family. I 
 say, then, you shouldn't forget this ; and 
 being called after me you have a right to 
 attend to what I design for your welfare. 
 Your mother, I need scarcely say, is 
 altogether of my mind with regard to Mr. 
 "Whitmore; she thinks with me that the 
 families of the county, the families, I mean, 
 who are possessed of property — landed 
 proprietors — these should always form 
 matrimonial alliances, and by that means 
 uphold their stations and respectability. 
 You must know, my dear, that people of 
 broken fortunes should be avoided — I mean, 
 of course, in the way of alliances — God 
 forbid I should mean anything else. To 
 be sure, the Whitmores are not of the old 
 Irish stock, but then they hold a large 
 property; it may not be a property of 
 ancient inheritance, of course it is not, but 
 then, we mustn't always look for perfection,
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 199 
 
 because in these times of cliangfe and 
 adversity it is not easily found. Perfection 
 is a thing not easily found. So now, you 
 must, my dear, think better of this ; and 
 do not trifle with your happiness. Mr. 
 Whitmore may not be possessed of all 
 those qualities which attract the mind, but 
 he has personal attractions : he is a good- 
 looking young man, his education, it is 
 true, hasn't been of a high order, but he 
 can read and write well ; in fact, his pen- 
 manship is splendid, nothing can be more 
 so ; and I have heard that he is a good 
 accountant — that he can manage figures 
 well, that is, in a plain way." 
 
 Miss Moore, who for the last five 
 minutes was using every possible exertion 
 to appear grave and attentive to her aunt's 
 admonitions, could no longer restrain 
 herself. She burst out into a ringing peal 
 of laughter, which attracted the audience 
 at the piano, some of whom turned round 
 to inquire the cause of the amusement, 
 when they saw Miss Moore with her arms 
 around the neck of Mrs. Credan, playfully 
 caressing her, as though she wished to
 
 200 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 propitiate lier offended dignity ; for the 
 latter lady appeared drawn up at her full 
 height, wearing a look of the most austere 
 gravity, made still more intense by a 
 slight contraction of her brows and lips. 
 
 Sir Michael Carey and Dr. Markham 
 immediately joined the niece and aunt ; Sir 
 Michael informing them, with apparent 
 glee, that the company were about to retire 
 to the Hall to see a dance. There was 
 then a simultaneous exit from the draw- 
 ing-room, and the hall soon presented a 
 scene of excitement. 
 
 Denny Mullins, the piper, was there in 
 all his glory, doing the most ample justice 
 to that ancient and memorable melody 
 the " Coolin." His eyes were half-closed 
 and directed to the ceiling, while bis under 
 lip and jaw moved with a ti-emulous 
 emotion to the quavering cadence of the 
 song. The chanter now rose and fell 
 upon his knee with quick and jerky pre- 
 cision, and now with an easy slow motion 
 which permitted the full and swelling 
 egress of the melody. Nelly Corcoran 
 was there, with her granddaughter, Minny
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 201 
 
 Eice, in the immediate vicinity of Dennj. 
 The captain sat on a table at the lower 
 extremity of the hall, entertaining the fat 
 steward with anecdotes of his travels. 
 Paddy Larkin was in one corner, seated on 
 a bench, with Anty Dreelin by his side, 
 into whose ear he was breathing, not soft 
 whisperings of love, we are sorry to say, 
 but black desig^ns of treason. There were 
 also present, Ned Doolan and Bill Cleary, 
 Peggy Cummins and Judy Casey, and, 
 though last not least, the loijal and true 
 Peter Mackey, from the Cross, publican 
 and general grocer. 
 
 These were the notabilities : others were 
 there whose names we do not think it 
 necessary to record. 
 
 Upon the entrance of the ladies and 
 gentlemen into the hall, the piper's chanter 
 became mute, and a general silence ensued ; 
 but only for a second or two, for then all 
 rose to their feet, the captain leading, and 
 gave three most vociferous cheers for the 
 ladies and gentlemen. 
 
 Mr. Moore and the other gentlemen, as 
 also the ladies, acknowledged the compli-
 
 202 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 ment tlius paid tliem, by bowing and 
 smiling all round. After a little time all 
 had again resumed their places ; and 
 Denny commenced to play '' The Wedding 
 of Balljmafad." This having been con- 
 cluded, Mr. Moore requested the captain 
 to favour the company by dancing a 
 hornpipe. The captain cheerfully com- 
 plied, and Denny struck up a tune of 
 exquisite measure and modulation, to 
 which the captain responded with a spring 
 and bound, after which he flung himself 
 into full accord with the jerking roll of 
 the melody. He was clapped and cheered, 
 and after a display of remarkable dexterity, 
 not unmixed with graceful action, wdiich 
 continued for about ten minutes, he con- 
 cluded by bounding into the air, striking 
 his heels together w^hile thus raised, and 
 then coming to the floor with his feet at 
 rio'ht ano^les. 
 
 Sir Michael Carey then taking Miss 
 Moore by the hand, asked for a waltz. 
 Denny played, and the baronet and his 
 partner circled round in gay and graceful 
 movement to the music. Other gentlemen,
 
 THE GKANVILLES. 203 
 
 taking partners, followed the example thus 
 set them, and the hall became redolent of 
 light-hearted gaiety. 
 
 There was one there, however, who did 
 not seem to enter into tlie excitement of 
 the scene. This was Mr. AVhitmore, who, 
 standing by the chimney-place, appeared 
 somewhat absorbed in reflection. He 
 threw his eyes occasionally in the direction 
 of the baronet and his partner, and oc- 
 casionally in that of Herbert. Granville, 
 who was engaged in the dance with one of 
 the baronet's daughters. He then became 
 engaged in the survey of his own person, 
 looking at his shoulders, and then at his 
 breast, and so on, until his glance reached 
 the toes of his boots, which he turned up a 
 little and gravely admired. He was thus 
 occupied when the baronet concluded his 
 dance, and was advancing towards the 
 top of the hall with his partner leaning on 
 his arm. Seeing this, Whitmore stepped 
 forward and asked Miss Moore to do him 
 the honour of taking a '' whirl " with him. 
 She politely declined on the plea of fatigue ; 
 when he said, with an affected jocularity, —
 
 204 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 '' Oh, I suppose you don't consider me 
 entitled to tlie honour ; if I were a beggar 
 without character — a rebel— then I might 
 succeed. Cracko ! haw ! haw ! haw ! " 
 
 Miss Moore drew herself up, coloured 
 slightly, and flashed a look of contempt 
 into his face, while Sir Michael frowned, 
 and waved him back with his arm. 
 
 Soon afterwards the ladies and gentle- 
 men retired, and the scene of festivity was 
 terminated.
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 205 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A GHAVE CONSULTATIOX— FEMALE DIPLOMACY. 
 
 Feom tlie observations and bearing of Joe 
 Whitmore, as given in the preceding 
 eiiapter, the reader cannot help perceiving 
 that he was a man essentially vulgar in 
 his nature, and addicted to those vices of 
 manner and conduct which are the neces- 
 sary products of such a nature. He was 
 rude and arrogant, and always on the 
 watch for an opportunity to obtrude his 
 loyalty, his property, and his person upon 
 the notice and attention of his audience. 
 One would imagine, from the pecuhar 
 phraseology which he sometimes employed, 
 such as " Real loyal, and true blue," that 
 he belonged to some fraternity or organiza- 
 tion whose distinctive characteristic was
 
 206 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 loyalty to the tlirone, and opposition to 
 every sentiment or movement calculated to 
 disturb or in any way affect the establislied 
 order of things. But this would be a 
 mistake. He was not a member of any 
 particular society of this sort ; nor indeed 
 did he really understand the peculiar 
 obligations of any body of men, no matter 
 of what shape or form of organization, 
 then existing in Ireland. He was perfectly 
 indifferent to their aims and views. All 
 he knew, or wished to know, on this sub- 
 ject was, that every man of property should 
 be opposed to every measure and every 
 movement that had a tendency to improve 
 or elevate the condition and status of the 
 labouring a-nd industrious classes. Any- 
 thing that savoured of this was to him 
 rank rebellion, or a certain indication of a 
 want of loyalty to the throne. 
 
 Not, indeed, that his esprit de corps 
 went so far as to disturb him when a 
 member of his own class — that is, a land- 
 holder — became embarrassed or bankrupt. 
 He rather chuckled at that, for it afforded 
 him an opportunity of exhibiting his own
 
 THE GEANHLLES. 207 
 
 superior wisdom and conduct in the 
 management of bis affairs. But not only 
 was he undisturbed at a catastrophe of 
 this kind, but he seemed rather pleased; 
 and from the moment that such an event 
 occurred he became suspicious of the un- 
 happy gentleman who was thus plunged 
 into ruin, and believed, or seemed to 
 believe, that he was no longer entitled to 
 confidence, or even to ordinary courtesy. 
 Such natures as his can see no merit in 
 aught but success, and a success, too, in 
 accordance with the low and sordid views 
 which they themselves entertain. Success 
 in science, in art, in literature, in trade, or 
 in commerce — this they do not, for they 
 cannot regard as a subject for approval, 
 much less for admiration, unless it is 
 accompanied with the one all-important 
 ingredient — wealth. Wealth, money, pro- 
 perty, is everything to them ; while virtue, 
 education, manners, social refinement, in- 
 tellectual and moral worth, are as nothing, 
 or worse than nothing. 
 
 Mr. Whitmore was a very complete 
 representative of such natures. He was
 
 208 THE GEA.NVILLES. 
 
 the owner of a considerable landed estate, 
 transmitted to liim througli liis grandfather 
 and father, and acquired in the first instance 
 in a way bj no means reputable. But this 
 mode of acquisition ought not to be 
 regarded as a stain upon his character, 
 nor was it. But yet, when a man divests 
 himself of that humane spirit which loves 
 to think well and to do well in the interests 
 of humanity, throughout the diversified 
 field of human conduct, and when he wraps 
 himself up in the folds of his coiicentrated 
 selfishness, disregarding the wants, the 
 necessities, the misfortunes, the sufferings 
 of his fellow-men ; then, indeed, not only 
 his own vices and crimes, but also those of 
 his ancestors are arrayed against him by 
 the indignant voice of injured humanity. 
 
 Mr. Whitmore's property, or rather the 
 source whence it chiefly originated was, 
 therefore, occasionally remembered to his 
 disadvantage. He occupied a magnificent 
 mansion, which stood upon a part of this 
 property, and which was known by the 
 high-sounding title of Castle Whitmore. 
 He lived alone, if we except an old maiden
 
 THE GEANYILLES. 209 
 
 aunt, who had some small property of her 
 own, and a cousin, a young man who had 
 become an orphan at an early age, and 
 whom he was now supporting. His whole 
 time was devoted to the general supervision 
 of the estate, and to the particular manage- 
 ment of a farm which lay within his demesne, 
 and contiguous to his mansion. His whole 
 time, did we say ? No ; he occasionally 
 attended county meetings, assizes, and 
 quarter sessions, in order to exhibit his 
 importance in the county, and to frown 
 down every man who was not '^ real loyal, 
 and a true blue." 
 
 He was, as must be expected, an op- 
 pressor of the poor; that is to say, he had 
 no consideration for their wants or their 
 sufferings, and was ever ready to unite in 
 any measure, act, or proceeding that was 
 calculated to keep them in helpless bond- 
 age. In short, he had no feeling for them. 
 But neither had he that fearless or reckless 
 spirit, which is sometimes, though falsely, 
 designated courage, which would openly 
 and defiantly harass and persecute them. 
 He had none of that. His persecution was 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 retiring and silent, because liis selfisliness 
 was intense. He loved himself too much 
 to walk in the path of danger, and he 
 hated the poor too much to give silent aid 
 to their efforts of advancement. 
 
 As we have said, he belonged to no 
 society of any kind, political or reli- 
 gious, scientific or charitable, except that 
 he was a Protestant by profession, and fre- 
 quented his church. Indeed, his conduct, 
 in this particular, was extremely edifying. 
 He dressed well, even to ostentation ; and 
 he paraded his carriage and pair at the 
 church door on every Sunday at about 
 eleven o'clock. There was no failure here. 
 But we have seen how far his principles as 
 manifested in his general conduct accorded 
 with this external demeanour. He did not 
 belong to an Orange Society, to a Repeal 
 Association, or to any organization of a 
 prominent political or religious character. 
 That would never do. He was both too 
 good and too bad for that. He wished 
 only to be a tyrant in his own little way, 
 and thus to revel in his own individual 
 greatness. There are many such persons,
 
 THE GR ANTILLES. 211 
 
 both rich and poor ; for it raust be remem- 
 bered that the possession of property is 
 not necessary to constitute either a fool 
 or a rogue. There are men to be found 
 — and, indeed, they obtrude themselves on 
 the view every day — who are not encum- 
 bered with a vestige of property of any 
 kind, but who, nevertheless, exhibit all the 
 qualities that are essential to the forma- 
 tion of cruel and heartless tyrants. They 
 are, too, some of them, possessed of all the 
 weak, as well as vicious, points of Joe 
 Whitmore. They are selfish, vain, arro- 
 gant, hypocritical, cowardly. In short, 
 fools and rogues, as we have said, may or 
 may not be distinguished by the possession 
 of property. It is not absolutely necessary 
 for them ; they can flourish in any soil, in 
 any climate. 
 
 Joe Whitmore, however, was a rich 
 rogue-fool. Another vice he had insepar- 
 able from his caste. He believed every 
 woman to whom he turned his attention 
 should be in love with him ; and in this 
 respect — indeed the only respect almost in 
 which he succeeded in producing any 
 p 2
 
 212 THE GRANYILLES. 
 
 interest among his acquaintances — lie 
 sometimes exhibited in liis person and 
 conduct a fund of amusement. But here, 
 as in everything else connected with him, 
 the malevolence of his nature prevailed. 
 He was jealous, suspicious, and mean in 
 all his lo^s^e-making. If, for instance, a 
 rival, or one whom he suspected to be a 
 rival, came in his way, no matter how 
 near a friend he might be, he would 
 invariably depreciate him by the inven- 
 tion — for he descended to invention in 
 those cases — and the propagation of every 
 form of falsehood and scandal that appeared 
 useful or necessary for his purpose. His 
 manner of address, however, when in com- 
 pany with a lady, afforded an inexhausti- 
 ble supply of ridicule and fun. He rolled 
 his flabby grey eyes, with what he conceived 
 to be irresistible effect. He protruded his 
 big chest, which was adorned with frills 
 and chains ; he stood firm and erect upon 
 his thick legs and flat feet, and he laughed 
 with surpassing glee. He then coughed 
 slightly, and reddened a little, giving utter- 
 ance at the same time to some vulgar expres-
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 213 
 
 si on — he was wholly incapable of any other 
 expression — which he regarded as conclu- 
 sive evidence of his dexterity and finesse ; 
 for he would immediately turn round and 
 admire his person, and then go off into a 
 fit of the most sublime abstraction. In 
 this way his love might be said to be 
 universal ; for he thought no woman be- 
 neath his passing care, as long as she 
 afforded him an opportunity to display 
 himself, and to laugh. But of all his con- 
 quests — for he deemed every woman a 
 conquest who was humorous enough, or 
 condescending enough, or indifferent 
 enough to listen to him — there was none 
 that seemed to touch his heart so much as 
 Miss Moore. She became his idol. He 
 worshipped her with all the ardour he was 
 capable of, and was prepared to forsake 
 every other shrine, if he were only admitted 
 within the sanctuary of hers. 
 
 Miss Moore was beautiful, accomplished, 
 and winning. She was endowed both by 
 nature and education, with a very large 
 amount of intellectual and moral power. 
 She was keen and penetrating, yet mild
 
 214 THE GRANVILLE S. 
 
 and sensitive, and she possessed a large 
 fund of practical good sense. Personal 
 pretension, a pompous exterior, a glitter- 
 ing surface, had no attractions for her. 
 She sought one predominant quality in the 
 man to whom she could consign her heart, 
 and that was a noble mind. But this high 
 predominant quality was wholly wanting 
 in the character of ]\Ir. Whitmore. 
 
 There was one, however, who did pos- 
 sess it ; and this one was known to Miss 
 Moore. Herbert Granville was that man. 
 And Miss Moore loved Herbert Granville. 
 It sometimes happens that the jewel of a 
 noble mind is set in a frame devoid of 
 attraction, or even repulsive. But in the 
 present instance, the setting and the jewel 
 were in keeping. To a lofty mind and 
 cultivated intellect, Herbert Granville 
 added a person of the most exquisite 
 mould, and manly beauty. We have de- 
 scribed him in a former chapter, and shall 
 not, therefore, linger here for the purpose 
 of re-introducing him to the reader. 
 
 It was scarcely to be wondered at, under 
 all the circumstances which brought this
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 215 
 
 briglit couple within the same orbit, that 
 Love's Hght and warmth should have shone 
 and glowed within the bosoms of both. 
 Indeed, the wonder would be if it were 
 otherwise. This, then, being the case, not 
 only were Whitmore's attentions to Miss 
 Moore irksome and repulsive to her, they 
 were even disgusting. It is true, she 
 sometimes was compelled to endure them, 
 for the mere sake of politeness, and in 
 deference to the feelings and opinions of 
 her family. But on such occasions the 
 revulsion of feeling she was forced to 
 undergo operated upon her in such a 
 manner as to cause her to shudder at the 
 very mention of his name. 
 
 Such then was the state of affairs, and 
 such the relations existing between these 
 three several parties at the time of which 
 we are speaking. Whitmore hated Gran- 
 ville ; but Granville only despised Whit- 
 more. The latter was regarded by Miss 
 Moore with a feeling of mingled horror and 
 disgust. The former she loved with the 
 deepest, sweetest, holiest affection. 
 
 It was little wonder that a refined and
 
 216 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 sensitive nature sucli as that of Miss 
 Moore's should recoil from contact with, 
 one whose mind and soul were filled with 
 grovelling ideas, and low, vicious propensi- 
 ties, unrelieved by a single impulse of noble 
 aspiration. 
 
 To give an idea of the excessive vicious- 
 ness and hopeless baseness of his nature 
 and character, we need only refer to a 
 visit which he had recently made to 
 Brookfield Hall. The family, with the 
 exception of Miss Moore, were absent. In 
 all probability he was aware of this cir- 
 cumstance; for, to crown his other 
 meannesses, he was addicted to that of 
 prying into the incomings and outgoings 
 of every family in the country, high and low, 
 to whom he was permitted any access — 
 even their slightest movements or actions, 
 their conversations, their visitors, their 
 dress, furniture ; everything round and 
 about them became to him subjects of 
 gossip. It was, therefore, most probable 
 that on the day of his visit to which we refer, 
 he was aware of the absence of Mr. Moore 
 and family, with the exception of Miss
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 217 
 
 Moore; and that, acting in the spirit of 
 his low and gross nature, he availed him- 
 self of the opportunity thus open to him, 
 to thrust himself into that lady's presence, 
 and to insult her by indulging in observa- 
 tions at once vulgar, vicious, and base. 
 
 When he called, the servant showed him 
 into the drawing-room ; and shortly after 
 Miss Moore came in. She received him 
 with courteous politeness, and ordered him 
 some cake and wine, which he took with 
 greedy eagerness, observing that he had 
 had a long walk over the hills, and there- 
 fore felt a need of some refreshing beverage. 
 He lost no time, however, in turning the 
 conversation to Herbert Granville, whom 
 he described as a man unworthy the atten- 
 tion, much less the affection, of any lady 
 who regarded her own character. His 
 faults, and vices, and crimes were set forth 
 in most repulsive colouriug ; Whitmore, 
 doubtless, drawing Herbert's character 
 from the lineaments of his own. He pos- 
 sessed no redeeming quality in the dark 
 and turbid imagination of his slanderer. 
 He was mean, unfeeling, unjust, dishonest.
 
 218 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 He was a deceiver, a rebel, and a beggar. 
 Such was the strain of vilification in which 
 he proceeded whilst he was filling glass 
 after glass of wine, and smacking his lips 
 in recognition of the enjoyment which the 
 wine and the occasion afforded him. He 
 interspersed his observations upon Herbert 
 Granville, which were straggling, uncon- 
 nected, and wild — the substance of which 
 only we have given, for it would be impos- 
 sible to transcribe his stuttering incoheren- 
 cies word by word — he interspersed those 
 observations with insinuations to Miss 
 Moore, touching her feelings, her intentions 
 and prospects in relation to Herbert, and 
 also in reference to his own claims upon 
 her attention. 
 
 '' Now," he went on to say, '' you see. 
 Miss Moore, that a man of position and 
 circumstance is not to be overlooked — eh, 
 now ? Hem ! cracko ! I think a lady in 
 your position should not connect yourself 
 with a fellow of no character. Who 
 is Granville, I should like to know ? 
 eh ? cracko ! No girl would marry him ; 
 no one would trust him ; hem ! eh ?
 
 THE GEAXVILLES. 219 
 
 cracko ! You don't know bim, Miss 
 Moore. I wonder your father allows liim 
 to his house. Besides, he is a beggar ; he 
 hasn't a blanket to cover him, hem ! eh ? 
 cracko ! You don't know him. Miss Moore ; 
 do you know him, eh ? I do, though. I 
 can't bear him, hem ! he is such a low 
 villain — cracko ! I know him." 
 
 It is not to be supposed that Miss Moore 
 remained silent throughout this degrading 
 exhibition ; or that she did not show by 
 word and look her displeasure and indig- 
 nation at such base and infamous language 
 directed against the man whom she loved, 
 and whose character she knew to be noble 
 and honourable. By no means : she was 
 not silent. It is true, she did not imme- 
 diately rise, and order the ruffian from her 
 presence ; this she did not do for two 
 reasons, first, because she despised him ; 
 and second, because she was unwilhng to 
 stain Herbert's name by mixing it up in 
 anything like a quarrel with a man so 
 entirely beneath him. But she, by her 
 looks, and by her abrupt expressions of 
 impatience and dissatisfaction, showed
 
 220 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 him as forcibly as it was possible to con- 
 vey it, that she not only dissented from 
 every vile expression uttered against Her- 
 bert, but that she also felt the utmost 
 repugnance for the man who was reviling 
 him. 
 
 " I don't believe it," she would say ; 
 " indeed, I kaow it is not true. Mr. 
 Granville is a gentleman. He has a 
 noble mind, ^o gentleman could speak 
 disparagingly of him. He knows who 
 deserves his contempt. A cotvard only 
 could slander Mr. Granville. No gentle- 
 man, or man of character, could or would 
 dare do it. Baseness is tolerated, merely 
 on account of its baseness. 'No high- 
 minded man would stain his fingers with 
 it or with its embodiment.^' 
 
 Thus she would go on with short, caustic 
 withering expressions, accompanied with 
 looks of the most bitter sarcasm. But 
 they were lost on Joe Whitmore ; the low 
 nature which enabled him to revile and 
 slander an absent gentleman to the woman 
 who loved him, and whom he loved, was 
 incapable of perceiving the merited scorn
 
 THE GRA?sVILLES. 221 
 
 wliicli fell from lier eyes and lips as lie 
 stammered out his slanders. 
 
 At length, however, finding that nothing 
 she had said or looked had the effect of 
 stopping the foul and broken current of 
 his base and slanderous observations, she 
 rose from her seat, and walking towards 
 the fireplace with indignation mantling 
 upon her countenance she jerked the bell- 
 pull, and then walked towards the door, 
 where meeting the servant, she said, 
 addressing him, and at the same moment 
 pointing her finger towards Whitmore, — 
 
 " Show that man out of the house ; and 
 tell him never again to dare obtrude him- 
 self upon my presence." 
 
 She then walked away ; and hastening 
 to the sanctuary of her bedroom, she there 
 gave vent to her injured feelings in a 
 copious flood of burning tears. 
 
 Whitmore, notwithstanding his stolid 
 nature, and the inherent vileness of his 
 character, looked abashed beneath the 
 overwhelming scorn, and crushing rebuke 
 which he thus received ; but he soon re- 
 covered himself, and rising with a jerk, he
 
 222 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 shook himself, poured out another glass of 
 wine, drank it off at a snap, and strutted 
 towards the door, muttering some incohe- 
 rent words between his teeth, amoug which 
 the only ones that were audible were, 
 *' Hem ! yes ! yes ! cracko ! Eh ? ha ! ay, 
 crack ! " 
 
 On the morning of the day succeeding 
 that of the dinner-party there sat in the 
 drawing-room of Brookfield Hall, between 
 the hours of eleven and twelve o'clock, the 
 two sisters, Mrs. Moore and Mrs. Credan, 
 in earnest conversation touching the 
 general interests of the two families, the 
 Moores and Credans, but in special refe- 
 rence to those of the eldest daughter of the 
 house of Moore. In a word, Miss Fanny 
 Moore was the central topic of their 
 deliberation. 
 
 "And look at her imperious behaviour the 
 other day," Mrs. Moore was observing in 
 response to some remark of Mrs. Credan's, 
 '' how unbecoming in her, and how detri- 
 mental to her own prospects in life. I 
 have again and again, my dear Fanny, 
 pointed out to her the necessity of treating
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 223 
 
 Mr. "Wliitmore with respect ; but Her 
 answer to me has always been, that she 
 can't bear him further than as a source of 
 amusement. Yes, upon my honour, 
 nothing less. She likes him as a butt, if 
 you please, but nothing more. What do 
 you think of such conduct from a girl, too, 
 of little more than seventeen years ? " 
 
 "Well, my dear Felicia," replied Mrs. 
 Credan, " you cannot put an old head on 
 young shoulders. Perhaps we were not 
 very competent ourselves, at her age, to 
 see what was precisely correct and good 
 for us in our intercourse with the gentle- 
 men of our time. I am sure, I don't 
 forget how I treated Barton — you know 
 blubby Charley of Barnane ? — when he was 
 paying his devoirs to me. How 1 used to 
 be amused with his apish ways, and his 
 absurdities of manner ; but I never could 
 love him, oh, dear ! oh, dear ! that was 
 quite out of the question. And yet, he 
 was a man that occupied, you know, a good 
 position, and owned a good estate. But I 
 never could love him. That was foolish 
 of course ; but you know, girls will dream
 
 224 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 of such nonsense. Sarah Clapper flew at 
 him. Oh, dear ! I can never forget that 
 gh^L She was so gay, so buoyant, and so 
 frivolous; she didn't love him; in fact, she 
 never coidd love anybody I think ; that is, 
 she was, I don't say above, but beneath that 
 nonsense. For you know that there are 
 young persons who are, or at least seem to 
 be unsuited, from some cause or other, to 
 take part in those affairs of the heart, — in 
 those tender weaknesses of youth. Of 
 course, love is a weakness ; but young 
 people are sometimes caught by it ; and in 
 that way miss their chances in life. A 
 greater fool you couldn't meet than blubby 
 Charley of Barnane, he was so finely 
 attired, and so charmed with himself, and 
 so laurjliy and talhj. Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! 
 how amused we used to be with his absur- 
 dities and meannesses. And when Sarah 
 Clapper married him, we all said there 
 couldn't possibly be a more suitable match 
 — a brace of silly mean fools. Well, but he 
 was a good match, after all ; that is, for 
 a person like her. He had a good estate, 
 you see; that's the point. Of course
 
 TEE GEAKVILLES. 225 
 
 people lauglied at them ; and it is well for 
 respectable and sensible people to have 
 such persons to amuse them. The world 
 would be dull indeed, mj dear, i£ we hadn't 
 some such fools. But my opinion with 
 respect to Fanny is this : she can't be 
 brought to love Mr. Whitmore, that's im- 
 possible ; neither can she be brought to 
 marry him, at least, at present ; that is, as 
 long as Herbert Granville is living amongst 
 us. But he is leaving this country, I 
 believe : I know it, in fact ; for I have had 
 it from a good source, that is, Dr. Markham. 
 "Well, all we have to do in the meantime 
 is to check on one side, and encourage on 
 the other. You understand, my dear. 
 Check the intercourse between Herbert and 
 herself as much as possible, without giving 
 a shock ; and encourage Whitmore to hope ; 
 in fact, let him understand all is right. 
 You see that move, my dear Felicia? " 
 
 " But the advantages of property and 
 position," observed Mrs. Moore, " are so 
 great in the case of Mr. Whitmore, that I 
 cannot endure the idea of her hesitating 
 at all about marrying him. Love, indeed ! 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 What has she to do with such nonsense? 
 Oh, yes, to be sure, that fellow Herbert is 
 so poetical and romantic, and has that ele- 
 gance of manner that silly girls talk so 
 about ; I really am at a loss to express the 
 abhorrence I feel when I think of such 
 ridiculous childishness. I wonder what 
 can all that sort of thing avail those who 
 are thoughtless and foolish enough to be 
 carried away with it ; without perhaps 
 means sufficient to afford them the com- 
 monest necessaries of life ? Upon my 
 honour, my dear Fanny, I sicken of this 
 romantic foolery. I do not know but that 
 Herbert Granville would be a suitable match 
 for my daughter, if his father's property 
 had remained with him. His respecta- 
 bility in other j)oints of view is quite well 
 enough ; he is well descended, and well- 
 educated; and I have nothing to urge 
 against his personal character ; but, bah ! 
 what is all that, when we know that he is 
 a beggar ? I have always said to Mr. 
 Moore, when that young man first began 
 to frequent this house (he and Harry, of 
 course, were companions, being school-
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 227 
 
 fellows and playmates), and at that time tlie 
 Granville family were, or appeared to be 
 in good circumstances ; but after they had 
 lost their property I have frequently told 
 Mr. Moore that his continuing to come to 
 this house could not tend to any good. I 
 am sure I have used every reasonable pre- 
 caution against encouraging a continuance 
 of familiarity between our family and the 
 Granvilles. But Mr. Moore, as is usual 
 with him whenever I warn him upon any 
 matter, turned a deaf ear to me, or laughed 
 at what he called my hotheration. Why, to 
 be sure ! she talks and laughs so about 
 Mr. Whitmore's vulgar loretensions. Vul- 
 gar pretensions, indeed ! I am sure that 
 any lady couldn't object to his person, or 
 his manners either. His education is not 
 as perfect as it might be, very true ; he is 
 not very refined or polished, true enough ; 
 but then he has good sense, and his under- 
 standing is not at all weak. Then again, 
 she talks of his vanity, his dress, and self- 
 admiration, and his habit of laughing. 
 Well, that may be so ; but how are we to 
 suit ourselves with everything desirable ? 
 Q 2
 
 228 THE GRANVILLE S. 
 
 We cannot. Of course our families, both 
 the Moores and Credans, are unexception- 
 able, and entitled to enter into alliance 
 with any families in the county ; but as 
 we cannot make everything suit, and secure 
 that which is best, we must be content with 
 what may be considered reasonable success. 
 The Whitmores are a good family enough ; 
 they are not, to be sure, of ancient lineage ; 
 and their origin may be, as is said, not 
 quite sightly ; yet the young man himself 
 is unobjectionable, and the property is as 
 fine as any in the county. How many 
 young ladies in the county would refuse 
 him, I should like to know ? " 
 
 " Upon my honour, Felicia, I don't know 
 about that," replied Mrs. Credan, laugh- 
 ing ; '* if they were like you and me they 
 would not reject him, I daresay ; but you 
 must know that 02ir love days are past — 
 not that I ever allowed love to interfere with 
 my speculations, any more than yourself. 
 However, we must act on the principle 
 that there is such a thing as love." 
 
 '* Well, then, let her love him," said 
 Mrs. Moore.
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 229 
 
 '' Oh, love doesn't come by volition/* 
 rejoined Mrs. Credan, laughing. 
 
 " I don't know about that," observed 
 the other; '' I have known many ladies in 
 my time who brought themselves to love 
 those whom they had an interest in 
 marrying. It may not have been romantic 
 love — that love that is nursed among 
 flowers and zephyrs, and feeds upon poetry 
 and sentiment — but it was a rational love — 
 a love that looked calmly at consequences, 
 and kept in view a secure independence. 
 And that's love enough for any reasonable 
 creature." 
 
 Mrs. Credan again burst into a fit of 
 laughter, clapping her hands in an ecstasy 
 of merriment. 
 
 ''Really, Felicia, I cannot help it," she 
 said ; " you talk so philosophically, as 
 Mr. Credan expresses it ; I am inclined 
 to think that you will overdo the thing 
 you aim at. All that is necessary, in my 
 mind, at the present moment, is to dis- 
 countenance Mr. Granville to a certain ex- 
 tent — not too much, for fear of a reaction, 
 but just enough to awaken his pride a
 
 230 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 little, and divert liis attention into some 
 other channel. Fanny herself should be 
 a party to this ; and she could be led into 
 it by our making her believe that it 
 would be the surest way to retain his 
 fidelity to her ; do you understand ? At 
 the same time, Whitmore should be en- 
 couraged, just moderately only; and in 
 this Fanny too should be induced to co- 
 operate by showing her that it would have 
 the effect of restraining him from his too 
 ardent love-making. Then if Herbert 
 should leave the country, as I have no 
 doubt is his intention, some decided steps 
 might be taken towards the accomplish- 
 ment of our object in the union of Fanny 
 and Whitmore. Now, that is my plan; 
 and I hope you will act upon it. Depend 
 upon it, it's the best that can be thought 
 of under present circumstances. I wouldn't 
 go farther, Felicia ; I would not, indeed." 
 
 " I don't know exactly what to think 
 of that arrangement," observed Mrs. 
 Moore ; '' it doesn't appear to me to be 
 sufl&cient to meet the urgency of the 
 case. Love has many devices to elude
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 231 
 
 tlie stratagems that may be opposed to it. 
 Love — out upon the word ; I hate it ! " 
 
 Mrs. Credan again fell into a fit of 
 laughter, while she pressed her hands 
 u^Don her sides ; and tears rolled down 
 her cheeks in the intensity of her emotion. 
 *' I declare, Fanny," resumed Mrs. 
 Moore, " you seem not to treat the 
 matter with that seriousness which it 
 demands ; it is not a subject for laughter 
 at all. It affects not alone my daughter's 
 happiness, but the happiness and welfare 
 of our families. What a thing it would 
 be indeed to see her married to a romantic, 
 accomplished beggar : I am quite put out 
 about it ; I cannot help it." 
 
 ''Well," interrupted Mrs. Credan, ''I 
 have suggested to you what I suppose to 
 be the best remedy under the circum- 
 stances ; and you do not seem to approve of 
 it. What then do you propose ? " 
 "AYliat do Iprojjosef " 
 ''Yes, what do you loroioose ? " 
 " I propose this, that she bo sent to 
 Mooloch to your house ; and kept there 
 under a certain restraint until such time
 
 232 THE GRANVILLE S. 
 
 as we see that Herbert Granville shall 
 have left the country ; if he will leave it, 
 which I doubt ; at least before he accom- 
 plishes his wicked purpose." 
 
 ''What wicked purpose?" asked Mrs. 
 Ore dan. 
 
 ''Why," replied Mrs. Moore, "what 
 
 else than wicked is his design to marry 
 
 my daughter ? She who, if Whitmore 
 
 were dead to-morrow, would get any man 
 
 in the county Avhose alliance we desired. 
 
 That is what I call wicked. I have no 
 
 patience with the thing at all. Well, 
 
 what I propose is, that she be sent to 
 
 Mooloch and kept there until we discover 
 
 whether Herbert is going away. If he 
 
 should go, then we are safe. But in the 
 
 event of his not going we could still keep 
 
 her there, until she ceased to have any 
 
 thought about him. In the meantime we 
 
 could acquaint Mr. Whitmore with her 
 
 change of residence, and encourage him to 
 
 call as often as he liked. He might be 
 
 asked to dinner in the first instance ; and 
 
 then a shooting-party might be got up ; 
 
 and other plans of this nature might be had
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 233 
 
 recourse to so as to make his visits come 
 easy to Lim. In this way, it appears to me, 
 the thing could be safely done; and all 
 danger from frequent intercourse with 
 Herbert, such as could scarcely be pre- 
 vented if she remain here, be averted. 
 Now, what do you think of that, Fanny ? " 
 
 Mrs. Credan bent forward on the couch, 
 and placing the forefinger of her right 
 hand on her compressed lips, while she 
 gently stroked her dress with her left hand, 
 she remained in deep meditation for nearly 
 a minute ; then rising and pacing the floor 
 with her hands clasped behind her back, 
 she commenced to speak thus : — 
 
 '* Felicia, I thought that you possessed 
 some penetration ; at least, that you were 
 capable of seeing more deeply into matters 
 than you now appear to be. What is love ? 
 Let us not deceive ourselves, whatever we 
 may do in our endeavours to guard Fanny 
 against any imprudent act. We may be- 
 guile her ; we may persuade her — perhaps 
 we may — of the vanity of love, of its 
 deception, its instabiHty, its shadowiness ; 
 and in this way induce her to abandon any
 
 234 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 feeling of this sort that she may entertain 
 for Herbert Granville. We may be able to 
 do this, perhaps. But, there is one thing 
 that we cannot do — we cannot shut our 
 own eyes to a forgetfuhiess of that influ- 
 ence, that power which love possesses over 
 the human heart. We may now contemn 
 the passion just as it may seem good to us — 
 just as it may be our interest to do so ; but 
 let us not forget that such a passion does 
 exist in our nature, and that it is one which 
 cannot be rooted out by the advice of 
 friends, or by any influence short of death 
 itself. It may be checked ; it may be pre- 
 vented from rushing forward in an im- 
 petuous torrent ; it may even be diverted 
 from its course ; but dried up, never ! If 
 Fanny really loves Herbert Granville, she 
 shall continue to love him as long as his 
 heart responds to hers — that at least. It 
 may be longer ; but as it is a passion that 
 requires to be fed, to be sustained, to be 
 upborne on an element congenial to itself, 
 it will last as long as that support is 
 administered to it. It cannot feed upon 
 itself, it is true ; it may perish, and must
 
 THE GRA^^VILLES. 235 
 
 perish wlien ifc has nothing to hve on. 
 But what is the food, what is the element 
 in which it hves ? Does the object vanish 
 from the sight ? Is it laid beneath the 
 green sod ? Suppose it is ; then does love 
 perish ? No. Place Herbert Granville 
 beyond the broad Atlantic ; nay, place 
 him, if you will, in the tomb of his 
 fathers, and Fanny will still continue to 
 love him as if he were walking abroad 
 before her eyes in all the attractions of 
 his noble mind and manly grace. Let 
 his love perish though; let his heart 
 cease to throb in unison with hers ; then 
 indeed whether he lies beneath the green 
 sod, or walks above it, her love must 
 perish, and perhaps her body perish with 
 it. It is not a necessary consequence that 
 the life of the body should go out with the 
 life of love ; but it sometimes happens so. 
 Now, this being the case — and it is the 
 case — what can you expect from the 
 course you propose ? What can you 
 expect in the way of preventing Fanny 
 from loving Herbert ? or of coercing her to 
 love the other, a thing impossible for her
 
 236 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 to do ? But you may hope to coerce her 
 to marry Whitinore without loving him ? 
 Never ! BeHeve me, FeHcia, Fanny is 
 made of different material. She will 
 never marry the man whom she cannot 
 love ; and if she loves Herbert Granville, 
 as I believe she does, she never can love 
 Joe Whitmore. J^ever, never ! I do not 
 blame her, after all ; she cannot help it. It 
 is easy for you and me, my dear sister, to 
 talk coolly and calmly over this matter. 
 We have never loved, I suppose ; I have 
 not. How then can we prescribe rules to 
 those who are under the sway of that 
 delightful passion; for I can imagine it 
 delightful, although I have never been 
 myself, properly speaking, under its influ- 
 ence ? I may have felt the thrill of the 
 Divinity's presence for a moment, though 
 I never knelt at his shrine enshrouded in 
 the full effulgence of his glory. You see, 
 my dear sister," she continued, smiling, " I 
 have read some poetry. However, my 
 advice I have already tendered to you ; and 
 I do think it is the best to follow at 
 present. I cannot at all agree with your
 
 THE GE ANTILLES. 237 
 
 view of the matter ; for I think it would 
 be only affording a greater scope to tlie 
 feeling, if it does exist with Fanny, and 
 annoying her to no purpose." 
 
 '' Well, I am sure, I don't know what 
 to say, or how to act," observed Mrs. 
 Moore ; '* but I cannot allow my daughter 
 to be married to a pauper. As for that 
 love you speak of, I never can bring myself 
 to believe in it. Look at me ; have I not 
 been happy since my marriage with George 
 — ever up to the present day ? We have 
 had our differences of opinion, and our 
 little annoyances of one kind or other ; but 
 then I have been quite happy with him ; 
 but I never married him for love. I could 
 have married any gentleman at the time, 
 just as well; I mean, of course, any 
 gentleman of character and property, and 
 not deformed or repulsive in any way. I 
 liked him, just as I would any gentleman 
 who might have been considered by my 
 father and family as a desirable match. 
 That's all." 
 
 '' Now, Felicia," broke in Mrs. Credan, 
 " let us not say any more upon this subject
 
 238 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 at present. Let us speak to Fannj herself 
 about it, and liear wliat she says. She is, 
 as you know, a very sensible, prudent girl 
 for her years ; and I am inclined to sup- 
 pose that she would not act rashly in this 
 matter any more than in any other. Let 
 us hear her, at any rate." 
 
 " Very well," said Mrs. Moore, " I shall 
 have her here in a few minutes." 
 
 While we are waiting for Fanny, to hear 
 what she has to say in answer to any inter- 
 rogatories that may be put to her by her 
 mother and aunt, we may as well introduce 
 these two ladies more formally to the 
 reader. They were the daughters of 
 Geoffrey Credan of Mooloch, an ancient 
 family in the county ; indeed so ancient 
 that they derived, or boasted to have 
 derived their descent from the Milesian 
 Colony who had established themselves in 
 Ireland some centuries, as it is believed, 
 before the Christian era. They were a 
 good family, no doubt ; for in addition to 
 their ancient lineage, they could fairly boast 
 of an amount of private and public virtue 
 transmitted from sire to son, and exempli-
 
 THE GKANVILLES. 2S9 
 
 fied in yarloiis acts of exalted patriotism 
 and noble generosity, whicli could not be 
 placed to tlie credit of many families in the 
 country. No member of tlie family was 
 ever known to descend to mean practices 
 for self-aesfrandizement, or to shrink from 
 
 CO ' 
 
 the assertion of public principle through 
 fear of ill-consequence to themselves. On 
 many occasions they lost advantages, 
 which they might have easily secured by 
 swervins: a little from the risfht line of 
 honour ; but this they were always in- 
 capable of doing : so that under every 
 phase of changing circumstances in the 
 history of their country, they adhered to 
 the standard of honour and of principle. 
 They were consequently greatly respected 
 not only in the county where they resided 
 from time immemorial, but also throughout 
 the whole extent of the land. Their very 
 name was a synonym of integrity, honour, 
 patriotism. They did not, it is true, 
 appear before the country in the garb of 
 rampant patriots ; they rarely attended the 
 public platform ; and whenever they did, it 
 was not for the mere purpose of vain or
 
 240 THE GRANVILLE S. 
 
 ambitions display, but in order to give tlie 
 sanction of tlieir liigii name and well- 
 establislied reputation to some measure of 
 real and pressing importance to tlie in- 
 terests of tbeir country. 'Not one mem- 
 ber of this high-souled and noble-minded 
 family was ever known to play the mounte- 
 bank in politics, any more than in the 
 domain of private life. They were too 
 proud, too self-conscions, too noble in 
 mind and in spirit to stain their character 
 by contact with so foul a practice. In 
 their matrimonial connexions they also 
 preserved their hereditary self-conscious- 
 ness. They avoided low and mean alli- 
 ances, that is, such alliances as might jar 
 with the transmitted integrity and purity 
 of their name and race. They sometimes, 
 indeed, intermarried with famiHes who 
 could not boast of large possessions, but 
 who, on the contrary, were limited in their 
 circumstances, restricted in their means ; 
 but then they Lad good blood in their 
 veins ; they were upright, honourable, pure- 
 minded, of good reputation ; in a word, 
 they were of a pure and gentle stock.
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 241 
 
 Such then were the Credans of Mooloch. 
 And the ladies whose conversation we have 
 been Hstening to, were daughters of that 
 house. Mrs. Moore and Mrs. Credan were 
 the daughters of Geoffrey Credan of Moo- 
 loch, who had no male heirs in a direct 
 line, at his death; the property therefore 
 descended to the next heir collateral, who 
 was also named Geoffrey, to whom Miss 
 Credan was married : and thus she became 
 Mrs. Credan. 
 
 The two sisters resembled each other in 
 some respects, though not in a very de- 
 cided way ; their figure, which was of the 
 ])etite rather than the grande cast, was 
 pretty much the same, except that Mrs. 
 Credan' s was more rounded and firm than 
 that of her sister. The physiognomy, 
 however, exhibited a decided difference in 
 both. Mrs. Credan's face was rounder, 
 fuller, and brighter than that of Mrs. 
 Moore's; and there was besides an elasticity 
 of disposition displayed in the eyes and 
 mouth, and configuration of the head, neck, 
 and shoulders of Mrs. Credan, which were 
 entirely absent in her sister. In point of 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 242 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 age, Mrs. Moore miglit be about fifty years, 
 wliile her sister miglit have counted two 
 or three less. There was, moreover, a 
 kind of apprehensive keenness in the look 
 of Mrs. Moore, as if she suffered from some 
 incumbent dread of evil to come ; this was 
 entirely foreign from the expression of 
 Mrs. Credan. 
 
 We have seen that the sisters differed in 
 opinion as to the best mode of preventing 
 Fanny Moore's love for Herbert Granville 
 from culminating, and from thus destroying 
 her fair prospect of settling down as the 
 mistress of Castle Whitmore. The dis- 
 tinctive character of the two ladies was 
 made manifest by the mode and manner of 
 reasoning which they adopted on that 
 subject. The one, Mrs. Moore, was doubt- 
 ful, hesitating, fearful ; the other clear, 
 sharp, decisive. 
 
 But what must now strike the reader as 
 rather strange and inconsistent in the 
 character of the two ladies when placed in 
 juxtaposition with their hereditary pride 
 and purity of lineage, is this, that both of 
 them seemed utterly oblivious of the cha-
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 243 
 
 racter and descent of the man whom they 
 desired to be brought into the circle of 
 their family, and to mingle in the current 
 of their blood. They felt the full value 
 and importance of the pure source, whence 
 they sprung ; they were as proud of their 
 descent, and as solicitous to continue it 
 untarnished to their successors as any of 
 their predecessors ever had been, or could 
 have been ; they were high-minded gene- 
 rous, noble, pure ; and yet they would 
 descend from that elevation of resplendent 
 honour and brilliant fame, to the level of a 
 sordid meanness, and a buffoon reputa- 
 tion represented in the person of Joe 
 A\^itmore. 
 
 The reader may be able to find a solution 
 of this mystery, if it may be called a mys- 
 tery, in the nature and character of woman ; 
 but we cannot give our assent to such a 
 solution, notwithstanding the high au- 
 thority of the Roman poet, — 
 
 " Yarium et mutabile semper est fa3mina." 
 
 AYe cannot, we repeat, record our ap- 
 proval of a solution so detrimental to the 
 E 2
 
 241 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 cliaracter of woman ; because we believe in 
 tlie essential goodness of lier nature, the 
 purity and ingenuousness of lier mind, and 
 tlie angelic aspirations of her soul; and 
 thus believing, we cannot permit our 
 judgment to pronounce her condemnation 
 upon occasions when we fail to be able to 
 account satisfactorily for any apparent 
 aberrations in her conduct. 
 
 When Mrs. Moore sent her servant to 
 request her daughter's presence in the 
 drawing-room, Fanny was away amid the 
 solitude of the hills, enjoying the fragrance 
 and music of free nature in its summer 
 and midday loveliness ; and consequently 
 the two ladies were obliged to postpone 
 their further investigation into the mys- 
 tery of her affections until another 
 opportunity. 
 
 They now remembered that they owed 
 some visits to friends residing at different 
 points down the valley ; and they ac- 
 cordingly ordered their carriage ; leaving, 
 at the same time, an injunction with one 
 of the serving-maids to inform that young
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 245 
 
 lady upon lier return that they desired to 
 see her before dinner-hour in the drawing- 
 room on important business ; and not to 
 forget telling her this immediately upon 
 her return from her walk.*
 
 246 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A WALK IN THE GLENS — THE PLEDGE. 
 
 It will be remembered that at noon on the 
 day before that of the dinner-party at 
 Brookfield Hall, Herbert Granville held a 
 short interview with John Gorman, or the 
 captain, in the shrubbery at the rear of 
 the Hall, and that at this interview the 
 captain handed Herbert a note from Miss 
 Moore. The note ran thus : — 
 
 '^ Tuesday morning, 
 " My deae Herbeet, — 
 
 " As you cannot come to the Glaze- 
 ment this afternoon, I shall see you 
 at any hour you may desire, and which 
 will be convenient to you on the day after 
 to-morrow\ You will dine with us to- 
 morrow. Papa insists upon it — mind,
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 247 
 
 come. Aunt Credan is come, and she and 
 mamma will have all sorts of things to 
 occupy them, so that I will be rather in 
 the way for them. A nice walk in the 
 glens would be beautiful. Let me know 
 what hour, and I shall be ready. Don't 
 forget the book — I mean the other one you 
 were speaking of. 
 
 '* As usual, 
 
 " Your own, 
 
 It will also be remembered that at part- 
 ing on that occasion, Herbert told the 
 captain to meet him at the same place, 
 and about the same hour on the second 
 day next succeeding. Accordingly, on the 
 appointed day, and about the hour named, 
 Herbert might be seen strolhng carelessly 
 along the farm road at the foot of the hill 
 and in the rear of the Hall, with a book 
 open in his hands, in which he appeared to 
 be deeply absorbed. When he had reached 
 that point of the road which touched upon 
 the grove or shrubbery, he sprang over the 
 intervening hedge, and walked along by 
 the trees until he came to the spot where
 
 248 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 the former interview took place. Just as 
 lie turned an angle in tlie line of tlie grove, 
 he perceived the captain seated under a 
 wide-spreading tree, with the beehive 
 hat between his knees, and his right hand 
 moving over its surface in the act of im- 
 pressing some arithmetical figures upon it 
 with a piece of chalk. 
 
 Having recognized and saluted each 
 other, the captain said, — 
 
 " Faith, Master Herbert, I never heard 
 you coming ; I was so bent on this sum 
 I couldn't hear anything. I was trying 
 the decimals on a wind, but I'm out of 
 practice, and the squalls put me back, and 
 took me from my course. But it makes no 
 difference, I was only trying my hand on 
 the old rule, and I see I can't bring it 
 about yet awhile. I'll manage it though, 
 by-and-by." 
 
 " I thought," observed Herbert, '' that 
 nothing in the way of figures, even though 
 they were figures of speech, was too diffi- 
 cult for you to manipulate." 
 
 " Yes, I was smart one time in my life ; 
 but I'm getting a little soaked in the
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 249 
 
 timbers now, and I don't answer my helm 
 as in former times. There's nothing like 
 youth, Master Her])ert, it makes the ropes 
 work smoothly in the blocks, and the 
 spars to buckle in the breeze. Age makes 
 one stiff and hard, that's the way it goes." 
 
 Herbert had taken a seat on a large 
 root that extended from the tree beneath 
 which the captain was ensconced; and 
 then taking a small sealed note from be- 
 tween the leaves of the book which he 
 carried, he looked at it, and said, — 
 
 '' Captain, do you know if she be en- 
 gaged now, for I wish this to be given to 
 her at once, provided she is not taken up 
 with any matter, or with any company that 
 would make it imprudent to have it handed 
 to her. You had better take it at once, 
 and be cautious." 
 
 '' Too-o-ot, man alive, you needn't make 
 signals to me about the lie and bearings 
 of the land ; no, Master Herbert, I'm too 
 old a pilot to mistake the reefs or drive 
 the ship on a sunken rock. But, look here, 
 my hearty ! There are squalls ahead in my 
 opinion. That Mrs. Credan — that lady with
 
 250 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 the lantliern hung in the left corner of her 
 right eye — she is the aunt of the fair one, 
 eh ? I hav'n't that craft measured yet, I'd 
 like, too, to fathom the wather she sails in. 
 'T would be no harm in my opinion. I tell 
 you, that I do not understand her trim as 
 yet. It may be all tight and safe; but 
 I'd like to examine it before going to sea." 
 
 '' Why ! — what do you fear ? " 
 
 " What do I fear, eh ? Well, that is the 
 very thing I want to know myself, because 
 if I knew what I had to fear, I'd provide 
 according, d'you see ? If it was a shoal, 
 I'd lighten cargo; if 'twas a squall I'd 
 down canvas ; and if 'twas bad trim, I'd 
 shift ballast." 
 
 " Why," interrupted Herbert, '' why do 
 you use those sea terms so much? I can't 
 well comprehend your meaning through 
 this i3hraseology. You can convey your 
 ideas without having recourse to that mode 
 of speech if you like ; for you sometimes 
 avoid it altogether." 
 
 *' Oh, as for that, it depends on the 
 humour I'm in at the time. It is like the 
 rising and falling of the tide; I can't
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 251 
 
 prevent it from coraing or going, nor can I 
 clearly explain why it comes or goes. I 
 believe myself tliat nobody can well explain 
 tlie tides either. It is hard to understand 
 anything, Master Herbert. Now, take 
 the female sex, for example. Can you 
 explain Mrs. Credan to me ? Can you 
 explain any of 'em to me? I loved a girl 
 once ; and of all the living things I ever 
 came across in the universe she puzzled 
 me. You can't tell their rate of sailin'; 
 suppose you heave the log once every six 
 hours, do you think you'll find it that way ? 
 'No, 'tis no use heavin' of logs. In my 
 opinion the best way to navigate 'em is to 
 let 'em go before the wind, and keep steady 
 your tiller." 
 
 " Oh, well, well," interrupted Herbert, 
 " never mind your navigation. Go, take 
 this, and give it to her. Don't be long, I 
 shall wait here for your return." 
 
 The captain rose with a bound, shook 
 himself, and placed the beehive hat on his 
 head. He then placed Herbert's note in 
 his breast pocket, and went his way. 
 
 After he had gone Herbert extended
 
 252 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 himself at full lengtli on the grassy turf, 
 folding his arms behind his head, and 
 placing his straw hat over his eyes to pro- 
 tect them from the sun's rays as they 
 glanced between the foliage. Thus re- 
 posing at his ease, he fell into a reverie. 
 
 ''What a world it is;" thus went his 
 thoughts, '' and what a thing humanity 
 is ! — we are born, we live, we die. Some 
 seem as though they understood it all ; or 
 perhaps they have never thought over it at 
 all. The captain, poor fellow ! he has had 
 his love affair, too ; he has been disap- 
 pointed, that's evident. Who was she, I 
 wonder : did she love him ? — that could not 
 be, for if she did she could not deceive 
 him. Deceive him ! what a thing to 
 imagine of woman. Not surely was she 
 created to deceive. But, ay; Eve de- 
 ceived — was that deception though ? She 
 loved her Lord. What was it then ? She 
 wished to know of good and evil, a desire 
 of knowledge, and to communicate this 
 knowledge to her Lord. That was not 
 deception — ah, but it was a sin. She 
 disobeyed the injunction of her Maker —
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 253 
 
 tliat was all; aj, but that was mucli. 
 Her crime, then, was disobedience to law- 
 ful authority, through the influence of 
 curiosity. Yes, curiosity is woman's weak 
 point. Dear, dear Fanny, your curiosity 
 is guided by discretion ; you love me, you 
 love God; that's it: I believe you would 
 have never tasted of that forbidden fruit, 
 if you had been placed in the garden. 
 My sweetest, dearest, my own Fanny ! 
 Hallo, captain." 
 
 " Too-o-ot," exclaimed the captain, as 
 standing over Herbert, with a comical 
 expression of countenance in which the 
 contraction of the eyes, and the protrusion 
 of the under lip formed the chief in- 
 gredients, he drew from his breast pocket 
 a small knotted slip of paper. Herbert 
 sat up, rubbed his eyes, and took the paper ; 
 which, having read, he said, " This is all 
 well, captain ; I must be away ; you have 
 done your business well ; but, hark'ee, I 
 have a good deal to talk with you about 
 as to other matters ; another time for that, 
 however. See me shortly, down at Ash 
 Grove. I shall be at home to you at any
 
 254 THE GRAXVILLES. 
 
 time you call, after seven in tlie afternoon, 
 except on Saturdays and Sundays. I must 
 bid you a good-bye now — you saw her, 
 did you?" 
 
 " To be sure I saw ber, bow do you 
 suppose I'd get that scrap o' paper if I 
 didn't see her ? Perhaps you thought I 
 hired a journeyman to do the business for 
 me. Too-o-ot ! I tell you what, Masther 
 Herbert, I always rig my own craft." 
 
 " AYhat did she say ? " interrupted 
 Herbert. 
 
 '' Faith, I can hardly tell what she said, 
 she looked more than she talked ; of all the 
 crafts I ever saw, I never saw one that 
 carried her sails neater and closer, or 
 appeared on the waves with more light 
 about her. That's the way to say it." 
 
 '' Oh, good-bye, good-bye," returned 
 Herbert, smiling, and walking rapidly 
 away by the side of the shrubbery, and- 
 towards the farm road above. 
 
 The captain stood for a moment eyeing 
 the retreating figure of Herbert; but as 
 soon as that gentleman had disappeared 
 behind the angle of the grove he sat down
 
 THE GKANVILLES. 255 
 
 under tlie tree, folded his arms around liis 
 chest, and looked into vacancj. Having 
 remained in this mood for some time, his 
 lips at length began to move, and the 
 following thoughts and sentiments came 
 from them in slow, broken, and dreamlike 
 fragments. 
 
 " Yes, Fanny Moore — Miss Fanny 
 Moore ! — you are a heavenly crature, the 
 deep, soft, sunny eye — there never was 
 deceit in that yet ; believe me, John 
 Gorman, where the eye is broad — open I 
 mane — clear, and deep, the soul is straight, 
 that's my understanding of the matther. 
 A shallow eye won't do, the soul is muddy 
 under it. Xever mind the colour, I like 
 blue best though, because why ? It is the 
 colour of the sky, that's all : the soul came 
 down from the sky, shinin', flutterin', 
 dartin' and dazzlin' your eyes only for the 
 blue that softened it, and pitched it into 
 shape-like : if the soul and the sky were all 
 of a piece, and one colour, you couldn't 
 see any soul at all — how could you? 
 That's my reason for sayin' I like blue 
 best. Xever mind your light eye — a light
 
 25G THE GHANVILLES. 
 
 eye and foxy hair ! — Oli God lielp us ; 
 * lead us not into temptation, bub deliver 
 us from all evil, Amen.' The brown eye 
 — rich and mellow, like ripe grapes — the 
 light clear, clear down, and the rich foun- 
 tain of knowledge and of wisdom full and 
 shinin' below. That's to be liked. But 
 where am I ? Ay, Fanny — Miss Fanny 
 Moore ! She loves him — I'd swear that 
 any day. And precious love it is too ; but 
 all love is precious, that's to say, if there's 
 love there. But everything that looks 
 shiny is not gold, her love is gold, though. 
 I wonder is there anything in the blood, 
 as they say. High blood, okl blood, noble 
 blood, ancient blood ; I think myself there 
 is. 'Tis like there is. If blood is nothing, 
 how is it that Herbert Granville is sound 
 at the heart, and that Joe \Yhitmore is 
 rotten ? I'd like to know that. Yes, 
 Herbert is proud, honourable, noble, and 
 he is come of a noble race — he has high 
 blood. Well, t'other, is mane, false, 
 schemin', and lie is come of a bad race — 
 lie has low blood in him. There it is. 
 There is something in the blood. Herbert
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 257 
 
 Granville is a gentleman, Joe Whitmore is 
 a hoddagh (a selfish half-clown) — there it is 
 again. The Granvilles came of an ancient 
 family, long, long ago, without stain or 
 dishonour ; but the Whitmores — och ! — 
 they came t'other day out of the mud. 
 And the Moores ; there it is again. The 
 Mo ores are of the rale old Milesian stock, 
 they never yet stooped to man or mortal, 
 too-o-ot ! they'd scorn it. Well, they hsiye 
 the blood, and they are upright, honest, 
 true, proud, and noble — just like the Gran- 
 villes ; but not a bit like the AYhitmores. 
 There it is again. Look at that Joe 
 Whitmore, the mane hosthoon^' (puffed up 
 and empty-headed fellow), *'look at him 
 now ; he is no more a gentleman than you 
 are an admiral, John Gorman. And he is 
 a fightin' fellow, too — too-o-ot ! He thinks 
 that makes a gintleman of him. I knew a 
 fellow in Canada, and there was no standin' 
 him in that line ; he'd fight every one ; but 
 will you believe me, John Gorman, down 
 at the bottom of that fellow's heart there 
 was as much cowardice as would put in a 
 decent stock for two dozen of poltroons ; 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 THE GRANYILLES. 
 
 and as for meanness, and lying, and 
 roguery, I never met his match. There 
 it is again. There must be something 
 in the blood, after all. There are poor 
 men, too — that makes no differeuce, 
 though — the poorest labouring man may 
 have the good drop in him. It isn't the 
 riches that do it at all. I know men, poor 
 industrious men — and I knew a great many 
 of such in Canada, and in the United 
 States, when I was in those countries ; 
 and they'd scorn to do anything mane or 
 deceitful. Well, those are gentlemen — rich 
 or poor, the man who is honest and upright, 
 true to his word, and plain and clear in his 
 dealin's ; I call that man a gentleman, 
 that is, the heart's blood of a gentleman, 
 not an accomplished gentleman, of course, 
 unless he has education and high refine- 
 ment ; but what I say is this, without 
 honesty, truth, fairness, uprightness, and 
 justice, no man is entitled to the name of 
 gentleman — I stand to that. 
 
 '' I wonder will they be married ? 'tis a 
 pity if they don't. Too-o-ot ! Joe Whitmore, 
 indeed ! He is no more fit for her than
 
 THE GRANYILLES. 259 
 
 you, Jolin Gorman, are fit to sit on tlie 
 throne of England. Well, Master Herbert, 
 -I'm afraid tliat it won't be all smooth 
 water with you, there is a great deal of 
 schemin' goin' on against you — you have 
 plenty of enemies. I believe that. But 
 come what may, blow high or blow low, 
 John Gorman will stand your friend — 
 heigh ! " 
 
 And here he yawned, and then jumped 
 to his feet. 
 
 " I must go too," he muttered, as he 
 passed from under the shade, and walked 
 away in the direction of Ballydine. 
 
 Herbert Gran^dlle, having passed out on 
 the farm road already mentioned, entered 
 the field opposite, and crossing the rising 
 ground which stretched away towards 
 the mountain road leading upwards from 
 Ballydine, he skirted the northern side of 
 a circular grove that lay like a crown on 
 the distant upland, and then turning east- 
 ward he descended by a gradual slope down 
 upon the road. He walked on a couple of 
 dozen paces, and then sat down on the 
 green bank which bordered one side of the 
 s 2
 
 260 TOE GTIANVILLES. 
 
 road, and protected it from the precipice 
 that opened on the glen below. He had 
 not sat here more than half an hour, when 
 he saw Miss Moore turn an angle of the 
 road about twenty yards below him. She 
 came along with a slow meditative pace, 
 apparently enjoying the lovely and roman- 
 tic scene around her. Her rich and 
 luxuriant hair fell in soft, graceful curls 
 over her neck and shoulders ; while she 
 held her wide-leaved Leghorn hat half 
 swinging by a ribbon in one hand, and 
 in the other a book, into which she occa- 
 sionally glanced, as if comparing some 
 description of scenery with that which 
 Nature now unfolded to her view. She 
 suddenly lifted her eyes, and beheld 
 Herbert on the bank, some distance in 
 advance of her. She smiled a rosy smile ; 
 the light of joy sparkling in her eyes and 
 playing around her features. She closed 
 her book and stepped on briskly to meet 
 him. He, too, as soon as he had seen her, 
 rose from the bank, and stepped out upon 
 the road, advancing towards her. Ere she 
 had approached within a dozen yards of
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 261 
 
 him, lier hand was raised and extended 
 with zeal to greet him. His, too, was 
 involmitarilj extended, while a warm glow 
 of love bathed in light, overspread his 
 countenance. They met; her hand was 
 placed in his, while her upturned face, 
 smiling and confident, glanced its beaming 
 loveliness into his eyes. He stooped 
 gently down, and pressed her cheek with 
 his lips. They turned up the road, along 
 the margin of the glen. The scene was 
 enchanting. Before them lay the culti- 
 vated slopes of the mountain range that 
 swept away far into the distance, resting 
 against the bosom of the blue sky. Behind 
 and far away below them, lay extended 
 and gorgeous in the midday sun, the Yale 
 of Orma. On their left the land was 
 steep and abrupt, shutting out the view; 
 while on the right the deep and winding 
 glens, immediately below them, hid them- 
 selves away from the meridian splendours, 
 and drank cooling draughts from the 
 sweet, clear waters that purled and danced 
 within their soft embraces. Above and 
 beyond these glens rose another mountain
 
 262 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 range that lost itself far away in the bright 
 horizon. 
 
 Herbert and Fanny paced slowly on, in 
 happy converse, feeling the full influence 
 of the scene and the season. After some 
 time they reached an opening in the grassy 
 bank that bounded the road on the glen 
 side. They passed through this, and 
 descended in a sloping direction to the 
 chain of glens and ravines that gradually 
 unfolded themselves as they advanced. 
 At length they arrived at a small foot-path 
 that ran along the windings of the rivulet. 
 The trees here were large and towering, 
 some overshadowing the water with their 
 arms and foliage, and forming an arch like 
 the aisle of a cathedral, for long stretches 
 here and there, along the course of the 
 stream. At a point in the centre of one 
 of these aisles opened a rustic bridge, 
 composed of large, smooth, and rounded 
 stones, which led to the other side of the 
 ravine. They crossed over this with ease, 
 for the water was low, and the stones were 
 dry and close. Ascending the slope at the 
 other side, along the corridors and arches
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 2G3 
 
 formed bj the great umbrageous trees 
 that covered it, they, after a little time, 
 came out upon a green swarth that formed 
 the centre of a tableau which stood at a 
 considerable elevation above the bed of the 
 stream below, but to which the murmuring 
 of the waters reached in a soft and dreamy 
 cadence. At one extremity of this green 
 circular spot stood a Druid's altar, over- 
 grown in part with moss and stained with 
 time. Its original construction was much 
 defaced, though it preserved a regularity 
 of outline that was somewhat remarkable 
 when it was considered how many cen- 
 turies had cast their blio^htino^ and 
 deforming influences over it. It was 
 formed of four upright massive stones, flat 
 and longitudinal, sustaining an incumbent 
 slab or tablestone, with a hollow in the 
 centre of it ; this slab rested chiefly upon 
 a single point of one of the upright stones, 
 for it barely touched the top of another, 
 while the remaining two did not reach 
 within several inches of it. The four 
 upright stones inclined inwards ; so that 
 the upper slab or tablestone extended
 
 264 THE GRANYILLES. 
 
 beyond its supports, like a centre table 
 resting on its branching pillar. A few- 
 broken fragments of tlie altar lay scattered 
 about ; and within the structure were one 
 or two other fragments which lay in the 
 form of a bench, and were covered with 
 green turf. The altar with the outlying- 
 fragments was surrounded with pine and 
 birch trees which rose above it, and 
 excluded it from view. On one side, how- 
 ever, there was an opening made through 
 the shrub, which led to an aperture that 
 opened into the interior. Seated upon the 
 green bench inside, the observer was 
 afforded, through this aperture, a view 
 along one of the slopes of the mountain 
 eastward as well as of a portion of the 
 Vale of Orma, which stretched up to the 
 base of that mountain. The two lovers 
 passed in through this opening, and seated 
 themselves upon the turf-covered bench 
 within the Druid's altar. 
 
 It was a sweet and calm retreat. The 
 sunbeams came in struggling through the 
 surrounding foliage, and slept in lines, or 
 quivered in circles upon the grassy floor.
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 265 
 
 A thin, very tliin air breathed through the 
 trees, and carried to the ear the soft 
 murmuring of the water in the deep ravine 
 below. The birds had hushed their 
 melody, and slept within the branches of 
 the surrounding pines and birches, or 
 laved their drooping wings in the eddying 
 waters of the rivulet. The low, sleepy 
 buzz of winged insects afforded the only 
 indication of the existence of animal life 
 within the immediate precincts of the 
 glens. But beyond, upon the slopes of 
 the mountain, could be seen the cattle 
 reclining by the hedge-rows, or pacing 
 heavily along as they sought refuge within 
 the clumps of fir that here and there 
 broke the naked uniformity of the sweeping 
 uplands. In the A^ale of Orma, just 
 beneath the mountain spur, lay the scat- 
 tered mansions of the neighbouring gentry 
 reposing in solemn grandeur amid the 
 gigantic oaks and elms, that surrounded 
 and adorned them. Ash Grove House, the 
 residence of Herbert, appeared close by 
 the mountain foot ; while the magnificent 
 mansion of Lord Fairborough, with its
 
 266 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 widely extended park and gorgeous accom- 
 paniments of lake and river, grove and 
 glen, deer-walk, and pleasure-ground, lay 
 further down tlie vale, reposing in tlie 
 briglit effulgence of a glowing sun and a 
 cloudless sky. It was a sweet and beau- 
 tiful, as well as a grand and sublime scene ; 
 and no one could look upon it without 
 feeling a thrill of pleasurable sensations 
 pervading his inmost nature. 
 
 As Herbert and Fanny sat within the 
 Druid's altar, her right hand resting 
 within his left, and her hat on the turf 
 beside her, they drank in the full charm 
 of the scene. They sat silent for a con- 
 siderable time, as if unwilling to disturb 
 the exquisite repose and quiet dream of 
 nature. At length Fanny said, in a soft, 
 low voice, — 
 
 " How sweet, dear Herbert, it is here." 
 
 " Very, very sweet, indeed," was the 
 reply. 
 
 ** I feel," she continued, '' as if my heart 
 could melt into this scene, and mix with 
 it, and live in it for ever. It is so beauti- 
 ful — so lovely. Oh, Herbert, could you
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 267 
 
 ever think to separate yourself from these 
 glens and mountain scenes, these beautiful 
 everlasting works, where God seems to 
 walk, and to scatter His sweetest, His 
 choicest gifts ? Could you leave them, 
 Herbert ? " And she bent her head upon 
 his bosom. 
 
 " Separate myself from them ?" he said, 
 "no, not willingly — not of my own free 
 choice. I should deem it, dear Fanny, 
 the hio^hest and dearest bltssins^ that God 
 in His infinite goodness could confer upon 
 me, to live amid these scenes of my child- 
 hood, of my youth, of my manhood ; to 
 live among them, to die among them. 
 But, ah ! what would they be if my heart 
 were denied that without which even these 
 scenes, dear as they are, should fail to 
 bring it repose and happiness? ISfo, Fanny, 
 believe me ; without you, without your 
 presence, and your love, all this, beautiful 
 as it is, all these scenes endeared to me as 
 they are from the earliest dawn of feeling, 
 would be but as a huge grave where lay 
 buried all my hopes, my aspirations, and 
 my best, my tenderest affections. I have
 
 268 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 often thought this matter over; I have 
 reflected upon it in the silent hours of 
 night, when all was hushed, and my heart 
 alone seemed to live and beat amid the 
 universal sleep of nature ; I have reflected 
 upon it until my head ached, and my soul 
 seemed bursting from my body, as though 
 it desired to escape from the suffering and 
 the misery which my imagination pictured. 
 How early began that love which bound 
 my heart to you ! I can scarcely recall the 
 hour, the time when first I loved you ; it 
 came ; it grew as though we were both 
 fashioned in the same mould together, and 
 that we had never existed but as one. 
 It was in our old schooldays. You 
 remember the school below in the village ? 
 you remember the class where we stood 
 together ? you remember the play-hour at 
 midday? We helped each other at lessons ; 
 we separated from our school-mates at play, 
 and walked together down the green lane, 
 under the shade of the willow-trees. Did 
 we not love then ? But we did not speak 
 of love then ! we knew it not by name ; 
 but it was there, in our hearts, in our
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 269 
 
 feelings, in our thouglits. "Well, we 
 separated in after-years ; I was sent to 
 college, and you to a boarding-scliool. 
 We ceased to meet, to see each other, 
 except at vacation. We then met, and do 
 you remember how glad we were to meet ? 
 I do. I then felt all the warmth, the 
 tenderness, the affection of other days 
 spring up again within my bosom ; and I 
 saw that you felt it all too. At last we 
 returned home, to remain at home. And 
 then we met as man and woman, and in 
 the society of our equals. The playful 
 famiharity of childhood, of early youth, had 
 ceased between us, but our love, that 
 young love that first linked our hearts 
 together, was that gone ? No ; but it had 
 grown stronger, brighter, steadier. We 
 concealed it, though — not from ourselves, 
 for that we could not do ; but we con- 
 cealed, or rather strove to conceal it from 
 others : and why ? because we felt it was 
 too dear a thing, too sacred, too holy a 
 treasure to expose it to the profane gaze 
 of any one. You remember that evening 
 in Glen Corril, when first I gave words to
 
 270 THE GRANYILLES. 
 
 my feeling, and told you my love; you 
 bent your head, as you do now, upon my 
 bosom, and wept. You have often since 
 told me that your heart at that moment 
 throbbed with the brightest, liveliest sen- 
 sation of joy it had ever felt before, and 
 that you were happy, oh ! how happy. 
 And I knew you were. I knew I was 
 happy beyond the power of expressing it ! 
 And, Fanny — dear, dear Fanny — can you 
 now understand why these scenes, all dear 
 and lovely as they are, would be to me dark 
 and dreary if you ceased to be mine ? " 
 
 While he thus spoke he occasionally 
 looked into her upturned face, and pressed 
 his lips upon her forehead; but when he 
 had ceased, he leant back his head against 
 the stone of the altar, and sighed deeply. 
 She lifted her head from his bosom, and 
 turning round, she stooped over him, and 
 pressed her lips upon his forehead, while 
 her luxuriant tresses fell cloud-like over 
 his face, and her tears rolled down upon 
 his brow. She then assumed an erect pos- 
 ture, and said, *' Dear Herbert, we must 
 never part — oh, never ! never ! never ! *'
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 271 
 
 She pressed her hands upon her heart, 
 and continued : — 
 
 '*If jou should leave, if anything should 
 happen that would cause our separation, 
 I think my heart would break. Oh, no, 
 Herbert, dear, dear Herbert, I could 
 never live without you. You don't know 
 how dear you are to me. We will be 
 married, my own dear Herbert ; we must 
 be married." 
 
 He raised his head from the altar stone, 
 and folding her in his arms, he pressed 
 her to his bosom. She again spoke : — 
 
 " I know very well, dear, that mamma 
 and Aunt Credan are desirous that I should 
 be married to that abominable person, 
 Whitmore ; but papa and Harry do not 
 care much about him ; indeed, I know that 
 Harry detests him ; for he always ridicules 
 him when his name is mentioned in the 
 family ; and says that he ought not to be 
 admitted into any respectable company. 
 What astonishes me is that mamma and 
 Aunt Credan should not only tolerate him, 
 but absolutely speak of him as if he were 
 a person that was entitled to their esteem.
 
 272 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 I know liow ifc is tliough : they think that 
 lie would be a desirable connexion on 
 account of liis large estates, never con- 
 sidering the low cliaracter and vulgar 
 manners of tlie man ; or liow it would be 
 possible for me, or indeed for any woman 
 of feeling and delicacy to live with such a 
 person. I declare most solemnly that I 
 would prefer to be confined within a prison 
 all my life, ay, or even to die — yes, to die 
 — to being married to him. And is it not 
 astonishing that, knowing this, as he must 
 know it if he is capable of understanding 
 anything, he should still jo^i'severe in 
 urging his suit with the family ? But, 
 Herbert dear, you must not be tormenting 
 yourself with notions of my being separated 
 from you : I shall never be separated from 
 you while I live — and oh ! " she exclaimed, 
 raising her eyes towards heaven, " I hope 
 and trust we shall know and love each 
 other even in the kingdom of our good 
 Father in Heaven. No, Herbert; what- 
 ever may be your present difficulties ; no 
 matter what obstructions may occur to 
 retard the happy day when we shall be
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 273 
 
 united, I shall never part from you. Make 
 your mind easy, dear, about that. If your 
 uncle in Canada desires to see you, you 
 need not deny him or yourself the pleasure 
 of meeting ; and if he should wish you to 
 settle down there with him, let not any 
 apprehension about me prevent you from 
 doing so, if you should think it desirable 
 for your welfare. Wherever you may be, 
 I shall always be prepared to join you, if 
 necessary : or if you should determine to 
 return to me, I shall be but too happy to 
 wait for you.* No, Herbert, I shall never 
 marry any man but you." 
 
 Herbert again clasped her to his breast ; 
 and, strange as it may appear — and to 
 some it may, doubtless, appear strange — 
 he burst into a flood of tears, which he 
 was unable to restrain for several minutes. 
 She, calm and collected, took her hand- 
 kerchief from her I'eticule, and busied her- 
 self in wiping them away ; after which she 
 kissed his brow, and commenced to banter 
 him. 
 
 "Ah, Herbert, is that your firmness ? " 
 she said, after a time ; " is that the way 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 you are preparing to encounter your diffi- 
 culties ? Why, I am braver than you. I am 
 not afraid of trouble. I am sure we are 
 not going to have any difficulties or trouble. 
 We must be brave and courageous. I am 
 yours, you know ; and that ought to be 
 enough to cheer you. You see how con- 
 ceited I am now," and she laughed merrily, 
 patting him on the cheek at the same 
 moment. 
 
 " There now, dear," she resumed, *' what 
 are you going to say ? " 
 
 " I am going to say this, dear Fanny," 
 and he ran his fingers under her ring- 
 lets, *' I am going to say this, you are a 
 sweet, dear girl — oh, how I do love you ! " 
 
 " Is that all ? — get away with you ; " 
 and she slapped him on the cheek. 
 
 "Yes, dear Fanny," he resumed; *'you 
 have made me very, very happy. I shall 
 tell you now that I have received a letter 
 from my uncle in Canada, and he is very 
 urgent in his solicitations to me to join 
 him. He has never married, you know ; 
 so that I presume he is desirous to have 
 me with him as a companion and super-
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 275 
 
 intendent of his estate there, intending 
 probably — indeed, he says so — to leave me 
 the property at his death. Now, Lord 
 Fairborough, as you are aware, has mani- 
 fested great interest in me — indeed, he has 
 always acted with the most generous 
 friendship towards our family — well, he 
 has kindly offered me his intercession with 
 the British Minister for some colonial 
 appointment — I don't know what it is : 
 but I suppose anything that might chance 
 to be open, and should at the same time 
 suit me. Now, how to act I scarcely know. 
 I should like to have my uncle's opinion 
 as to the desirability of obtaining this 
 colonial appointment. It may possibly 
 not fall in with his views that I should 
 accept anything of this kind ; and, you 
 know, I shouldn't like to displease him ; 
 and this, not so much for any personal 
 advantages I may secure from his friend- 
 ship, but in consideration of his own 
 excellent disposition and personal merits. 
 I do not know much of him, of my own 
 knowledge, for I was but a very small boy 
 when he left for Canada ; but his character, 
 T 2
 
 276 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 as I have heard it from those who knew 
 him intimately and well, has impressed me 
 much. I remember, too, that I was a 
 great favourite of his when I lived with 
 my grandfather Brown ; for he often took 
 me upon his knee, and called me his darling 
 boy ; I remember, too, hearing him say to 
 my grandfather that if he should not have 
 any family of his own, he would adopt me 
 as his child. You see, my dear, that I 
 could not consistently with the relations 
 which exist between my uncle and myself, 
 and which in part he has himself esta- 
 blished with a view to my welfare, take any 
 important step without at least his con- 
 currence. My great anxiety in reference 
 to this matter has been my relation to 
 you : I could not think of parting with you 
 even for a brief period, lest I should lose 
 your affection, or at least, expose you to 
 the possibility of having your love for me 
 sacrificed to the wishes of your family. 
 And, oh, Fanny ! how could I endure such 
 a fate ? What would life, and all that hfe 
 could give under even the most favourable 
 circumstances — what would it all be to
 
 THE GKANVILLES. 277 
 
 me, if I liad lost tliat wliicli alone can make 
 life wortli possessing? But now I feel 
 happy — oh ! how happy in the thought 
 that nothing can withdraw your heart from 
 me ; and that you are prepared to wait, 
 and perhaps to suffer for me, until I am in 
 a position to take you to my bosom, and 
 bid you rest there for ever. And yet, how 
 can one calculate on human vicissitudes ? 
 If your family should press you ; if they 
 should persecute you ; if — but oh, I can't 
 bear the pressure of the thoughts that 
 come crowding upon my mind, and striking 
 at my heart/' 
 
 " Herbert," suddenly broke in Fanny, 
 with a solemn expression of countenance, 
 as she moved her eyes slowly around the 
 space within which they sat, " isn't this a 
 sacred place ? an altar, where God was 
 worshipped in other days ; a tomb, perhaps, 
 where the ashes of His worshippers are now 
 sleeping here beneath our feet;" — and she 
 drew her foot softly over the grassy floor 
 — " may not the spirits of the departed 
 ones be now hovering around us ? Her- 
 bert," she continued, placing her hand
 
 278 THE GIIANVILLES. 
 
 upon Ms shoulder, " perliaps, even the 
 spirits of some of our ancestors are here, 
 hstening, watching over us. Do you know 
 that I feel as if they were whispering holy 
 thoughts into my ear, and encouraging me 
 to acts of virtue, of truth, of purity, of 
 honour ? Listen, Herbert ! kneel down : 
 let us pledge our hearts to one another 
 here in the presence of the spirits of our 
 ancestors. You must not part from me 
 with a single doubt upon your mind. The 
 shades of our ancestors, pure, holy, glorified, 
 shall be witnesses to our pledge of undying 
 fidelity to each other — kneel, Herbert, 
 kneel — and take this ring." 
 
 They both knelt upon the green turf, 
 face to face, their eyes and hands raised up 
 to heaven; and there in the presence of 
 God, whose brightness was reflected from 
 that sun in honour of which that altar had 
 been erected in centuries long gone by — 
 there they solemnly and religiously invoked 
 the Almighty Creator of the sun, and of all 
 things beyond and beneath the sun, to 
 witness and bless their mutual promise to 
 love and cherish each other, under every
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 279 
 
 circumstance of fortune while life remained 
 to them. And Herbert placed the ring 
 upon her finger. They then bent their 
 heads in prayer; after which they rose, 
 and impressed each other's lips with the 
 kiss of peace, and of holy love. 
 
 From that moment the lovers felt an 
 elasticity of spirit which defied the frowns 
 of adversity. Their hearts beat in gladness. 
 Their thoughts flowed in currents free, 
 joyous, and bright. And the crushing 
 dread of ills, shadowed forth in the dark- 
 ness of the future, had passed away from 
 their bosoms, leaving in its place naught 
 save joy and hope, im checked, and un- 
 dimmed. They talked no more of dangers 
 of separation ; of wily influences operating 
 against their union ; of impediments ob- 
 structing the path of their future happiness: 
 all apprehensions of this nature had dis- 
 appeared from their horizon ; and nothing 
 but security, peace, joy, and contentment, 
 lighted the years looming before them. 
 The turbulence of the tempest within them 
 was hushed, and a calm sky of hope with 
 its streaming sunlight shone around them.
 
 280 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 It was the happiest moment that had ever 
 dawned upon the experience of the }'Oung 
 lovers. It was one of those moments 
 which come only once in a hfe. Perhaps 
 it is well that they do not come very often ; 
 their repetition might tend only to darken 
 that which their passing glance had 
 brightened and purified. Too much light 
 blots out the sight : too much happiness 
 might dim the consciousness within us, and 
 render us unfit for the glory to come. 
 The human heart is a curious organ ; it 
 requires gloom as well as sunshine to 
 enable it to expand and vibrate to the 
 touch of Him who made it. 
 
 But enough, Herbert and Fanny were 
 now happy in their conscious love and in- 
 separable union. Nothing now but death 
 could separate them. Infidelity was un- 
 thought of. Oh, no ; their young hearts 
 never dreamt of such a thing as infidelity. 
 That was a state of feeling which they 
 never experienced, nor could experience; 
 for it is reserved only for the vicious, the 
 debauched, the profligate. Virtue knows 
 nothing of it ; honour shrinks from it ;
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 281 
 
 purity o£ thouglit and feeling recoils from 
 it as light from darkness, heaven from 
 hell. There was no cloud upon them 
 now. They could look calmly up to the 
 sky, and along the horizon of life. And 
 so they talked quietly and thoughtfully of 
 the future; and felt themselves able and 
 ready to grapple with any difficulty that 
 might rise up in their pathway. They 
 talked of the future, of the present, of 
 the past ; and the hours glided over them 
 bright and cheery. 
 
 *'Well," observed Fanny, after a pause 
 in their conversation about their ancestors, 
 " what a strange mode of worship our 
 early ancestors followed. I don't mind so 
 much the form and appearance of those 
 altars as the object of worship. And yet, 
 after all, the sun is the most wonderful 
 object in nature. What is there like it ? 
 It is at once the most splendid and most 
 useful object of the universe. It is no 
 wonder then that they should be attracted 
 by it, and stimulated to an adoration of — 
 not itself, but of its Author, its Creator. 
 That is what surprises me — that they
 
 282 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 stopped at tlie splendid, life-giving orb, 
 and did not send their tliouglits and 
 hearts beyond it, to tlie all-wonderful, 
 all-powerful, all-wise, all-good maker of 
 it." 
 
 As she spoke her beautiful eyes were 
 turned up to heaven, and her hands were 
 raised and clasped together. 
 
 '* They had forgotten the true worship,'' 
 replied Herbert ; " like all the Gentile 
 nations, they were drawn to the grandest 
 and most striking objects of Nature, by 
 the spirit of adoration inseparable from 
 our human being, in the absence of that 
 knowledge which prescribes the true mode 
 of worshipping the Creator. The Canaan- 
 ites were, perhaps, the first people who 
 lost the true worship. They abandoned the 
 precepts of their fathers, and, in course of 
 time, forgot even their teaching. But, as I 
 have said, they must worship something, 
 for worship is a principle inherent in man; 
 so they turned to stones, and groves, and 
 trees, and water ; and, of course, to the 
 sun, moon, and stars. These became 
 objects of adoration to the Gentiles all
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 283 
 
 over the world ; and of course our ances- 
 tors shared in the general idolatry." 
 
 " Is it not a curious reflection/* observed 
 Fanny, '' that this altar, this huge pile of 
 rough, unhewn stones, has existed here 
 for ages upon ages ; and that people have 
 come here week after week — perhaps day 
 after day — for centuries upon centuries, to 
 offer up sacrifices, and prayer, and incense, 
 to that suD that is now shining above our 
 heads; and that their voices have been 
 raised all round here ; and that the sounds 
 of their footsteps coming and going were 
 here too; and that some of them," — here 
 she lowered her voice, and looked down 
 upon the turf — '' and that some of them 
 were buried here, and are now sleeping 
 beneath our feet ? " 
 
 "Yes," was the reply, "it is a curious 
 reflection." 
 
 " How long," she resumed, " how long 
 is it, Herbert, since they worshipped 
 here ? " 
 
 " It is impossible to say ; " answered 
 Herbert. " It is some fourteen hundred 
 years since St. Patrick commenced his
 
 284 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 apostlesliip ; but we have reason to believe 
 that some of our ancestors continued their 
 idolatrous practices during his lifetime, 
 and perhaps long after it. You may de- 
 pend upon it, they did not all give up their 
 practices at once. It is not unlikely that 
 even after they had ceased to sacrifice they 
 came to pray ; and like you and me they 
 felt strengthened and cheered by their occa- 
 sional visits to the altar and the tomb of 
 their ancestors. What say you, dearest ? " 
 and he passed his hand around her waist. 
 
 "It is time for us to go," she said; "it 
 will be near dinner-hour by the time we 
 descend the hill. Come." 
 
 They both rose, and, passing out at the 
 aperture through which they had entered, 
 they crossed through the clump of under- 
 wood and issued out upon the green sward. 
 Then, instead of returning by the pathway 
 through which they had reached the altar, 
 they walked down the sloping ground on 
 the other side, beneath the embowering 
 trees, until they reached a point which 
 dipped gradually towards the bottom of 
 the glen. They crossed the stream below,
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 285 
 
 and pursued tlieir way upwards until thej 
 came out upon the mountain road, nearly 
 opposite the point where they had met at 
 noon. Here they separated, after having 
 arranged their future meetings. She 
 crossed into the fields by which she had 
 come, and he continued down the wind- 
 ins^ road towards the villao^e.
 
 286 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A SUSPICIOUS VISIT — THE CAPTAIN STUDIES 
 THE CLOUDS. 
 
 When tlie captain left the shrubbery in 
 the last chapter, and proceeded across the 
 fields in the direction of the public road, 
 leading to the village of Ballydine, he 
 paused at the first hedge he had reached. 
 From this point he was enabled to take in 
 with his vision a large expanse of country 
 lying immediately beneath him, and 
 extending some miles down the Valley of 
 Orma. The Cross and Peter Mackey's 
 tavern lay in the immediate foreground; 
 Ash Grove House, the residence of the 
 Granvilles, rose majestically amid its 
 surrounding groves and bowers, at some 
 distance to his left; while Fairborough 
 Court, as the residence of Lord Fairborough
 
 / 
 
 / 
 
 THE GRANVTLLES. 237 
 
 was styled, witli its magnificent park, and 
 embellisliments of wood and water, shone 
 out in the meridian splendour some two 
 miles or more down in the bosom of the 
 vale. Castle Whitmore, and one or two 
 other imposing residences appeared on the 
 right, at distances varying from one to 
 two miles. 
 
 As the captain stood and swept with 
 his eyes this panorama of rural scenery, 
 his attention became fixed upon a parti- 
 cular spot in the landscape. At a point 
 where the main avenue leading from Castle 
 Whitmore opened upon the public road 
 that wound down the vale towards the 
 town of Corrigcastle, he observed a 
 horseman moving with a slow pace up the 
 road leading to Bally dine. 
 
 At first, and for a few minutes he was 
 unable to form any conjecture as to the 
 individuality of this horseman ; and yet he 
 could not help thinking that there was 
 something in the outline of his figure that 
 resembled that hopeful personage, the 
 master of Castle Whitmore. There was, 
 it is true, a languid, drooping bearing
 
 286 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A SUSPICIOUS VISIT — THE CAPTAIN STUDIES 
 THE CLOUDS. 
 
 When the captain left the shrubbery in 
 the last chapter, and proceeded across the 
 fields in the direction of the public road, 
 leading to the village of Ballydine, he 
 paused at the first hedge he had reached. 
 From this point he was enabled to take in 
 with his vision a large expanse of country 
 lying immediately beneath him, and 
 extending some miles down the Valley of 
 Orma. The Cross and Peter Mackey's 
 tavern lay in the immediate foreground; 
 Ash Grove House, the residence of the 
 Granvilles, rose majestically amid its 
 surrounding groves and bowers, at some 
 distance to his left; while Fairborough 
 Court, as the residence of Lord Fairborough
 
 THE GRANVTLLES. 237 
 
 was styled, witli its magnificent park, and 
 embellisliments of wood and water, shone 
 out in the meridian splendour some two 
 miles or more down in the bosom of the 
 vale. Castle Whitmore, and one or two 
 other imposing residences appeared on the 
 right, at distances varying from one to 
 two miles. 
 
 As the captain stood and swept with 
 his eyes this panorama of rural scenery, 
 his attention became fixed upon a parti- 
 cular spot in the landscape. At a point 
 where the main avenue leading from Castle 
 Whitmore opened upon the public road 
 that wound down the vale towards the 
 town of Corrigcastle, he observed a 
 horseman moving with a slow pace up the 
 road leading to Ballydine. 
 
 At first, and for a few minutes he was 
 unable to form any conjecture as to the 
 individuality of this horseman ; and yet he 
 could not help thinking that there was 
 something in the outline of his figure that 
 resembled that hopeful personage, the 
 master of Castle Whitmore. There was, 
 it is true, a languid, drooping bearing
 
 290 THE GRANVILLE S. 
 
 his, " the times is stirrin' times ; but shure, 
 maybe 'tis all for tlie bettlier in tlie long 
 run. That's what myself always says to 
 my ould man. The houclialeehawn (White- 
 boys) is tryin' to do all they can for the 
 poor people ; and by all accounts, they'll 
 soon have the country free, and then, 
 maybe, we'll be as good as those that 
 have fine feathers. Oh yia ! they're the 
 dirty feathers, some of 'em ; " and she 
 laughed immoderately at her own sarcasm, 
 believing it effective in its degrading 
 power. She then went on, — 
 
 " To be sure, fine feathers makes fine 
 birds ; but if every one had their own, I 
 wondher where would the feathers of half 
 of 'em be. I wondher who'd own Castle 
 Whitmore if right took place, and every 
 one was where they ought to be ? He ! 
 he ! he ! we know where some of 'em 
 ought to be ; and fine hot weather they'd 
 have there ; by my troth, hotter than 'tis 
 to-day, and 'tis hob enough, glory be to 
 God ! Myself don't wish no one any harm, 
 God forbid ! but every one ought to be 
 left their own. That's what I say, though
 
 THE GEA^^VILLES. 291 
 
 tliis ould fool of a man of mine says 'tis 
 all nonsense. But that's all he knows 
 about it. Not all the same as Paddy 
 Larkin. That's the knowin' knowledge- 
 able man, and there is not a bouldher boy 
 among 'em all than his four bones. My 
 daughter Anty will be married to him, 
 please God, as soon as the country '11 be 
 free, and every one '11 have their own. 
 Then maybe she'll be able to carry as high 
 a head as any of 'em ; and why shouldn't 
 she ? Isn't she as good as any of 'em, or 
 their kith, kin, or generations ? What are 
 thej, I'd like to know ? Ulu-lu ! Ulu-lu I 
 Cromwell's breed ! Where is their red, 
 wholesome Milesian blood, I'd like to 
 know ? A drop of it never ran in their 
 dirty veins, and why should it ? Did they 
 ever drink the wholesome breast ? did 
 they ever kneel down before the blessed 
 cross, and give themselves up to God ? 
 did they ever hear tell of St. Patrick ? did 
 they speak to Columkill or to St. Brigid ? 
 were they ever at the althar of God on 
 their bare knees oflfering a pather an' ave 
 for the sowls of the faithful departed ? did 
 u 2
 
 292 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 they ever love tlieir neiglibours as they 
 ought to do ? did they behave like Chris- 
 tians since they came among us ? Shure, 
 I'd Hke to hear tell of 'em doin' anything 
 at all like Christian people. But, no ; 
 they'd rather rob and plunder, and kill 
 and murder, and leave us bare and naked, 
 and bruised and bleeding on the ground ; 
 ay, on the blessed ground that St. Patrick 
 walked on, and drove all the sarpints far 
 away from it. But shure, there's worse 
 sarpints on it, since the curse of Cromwell 
 and his maraudin' breed fell down on it. 
 The Lord protect us," and she devoutly 
 marked the sign of the cross on her fore- 
 head with her thumb. 
 
 ''And will Paddy Larkin and the 
 houchaleehaiun drive them all away, Moll ? " 
 asked the captain, in a half-dreamy tone 
 of voice. 
 
 " They'll have a sthroke for it anyway," 
 was the reply ; " and there's those at the 
 head of 'em that'll finish it. But you're 
 as bad as my own ould man, in regard that 
 ye don't give in to what's goin' on; but 
 maybe your eyes would be opened one of
 
 THE GEAXVILLES. 293 
 
 these days, andtlien ve'll believe it, maybe. 
 Paddy tould me, unknown to the world, 
 that Counsellor Connel himself is at the 
 head of the business, and that every one 
 ought to do whatever he tells him. What 
 do you think of that, now?" 
 
 "I think," replied the captain, '' 'tis all 
 nonsense, Moll ; nothing more or nothing 
 less. And if you are going to give Anty 
 to Paddy Larkin, I would advise you to 
 make him keep clear of the houchaleehaiun, 
 and all such foolish people, if you can. 
 That's what I say, Moll." 
 
 '' Ulu-lu ! ulu-lu ! och ! By my troth, 
 Paddy Larkin would no more mind me, or 
 you either in regard of that, than he'd 
 mind the whistlin' of the lunduv (black- 
 bird). He knows everything in regard of it 
 betther than any of us, and why wouldn't 
 he, shure enough? Shure, he is hand in 
 glove with the great people that's carryin' 
 on the business, and maybe, for the mat- 
 ther of that, with the Counsellor himself — 
 who knows ? Well, then, I'll tell you 
 what I'd like to come out of the business 
 first and foremost. I'd like that the
 
 294 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 Granvilles would come by tlieir own, that's 
 what I'd like. They were ever and always, 
 root and branch, the right sort ; they 
 never robbed any one of their rights ; 
 they never put the hard thrial or the 
 hard word upon the poor ^^eople ; they 
 never turned any one out of house or 
 home, but helped and comforted 'em all the 
 same as if they were their own blood and 
 kin. Och, no ! the bit and the sup was 
 for every poor person that came to their 
 door, and the hungry and the naked were 
 covered and fed by 'em. Shure, 'tis a 
 wondher that God in Heaven ever let 'em 
 be brought down. And who did it all ? 
 Ulu-lu! ulu-lu! that blackhearted, shlippery- 
 tongued 'torney from hell, Bartley Croker 
 of Gurtroo — Bartley the divil. God guard 
 and purtect us from all his sort," and here 
 she performed the operation of crossing her 
 forehead with her thumb, and curtseying 
 at the same time, as if to the Divinity in 
 the air; and then continued, " And there's 
 that bladdherin churl below at the castle, 
 Joe Whitmore ! Ulu-lu ! ulu-lu ! no won- 
 dher for the country to be on the shaughraivn
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 295 
 
 (decline) wlien the likes of him have the 
 castles and the lands of the ould gentry of 
 the count hry. May the black curse attend 
 'em all, here and hereafter, if it be the will 
 of the Almighty. The hearts of the poor 
 people are scalded with 'em all. And you 
 and this ould fool of a man of mine to be 
 sayin' 'tis foolishness to save the counthry 
 from 'em. Foolishness, indeed ! " 
 
 Just at this moment the captain saw Joe 
 Whitmore and Peter Mackey issue from 
 the tavern-door, and walk slowly down the 
 valley road ; while the little boy led Whit- 
 more's horse by the bridle close behind 
 them. He immediately withdrew a little 
 from the door, pushing back the chair 
 behind him, and stood by the four-paned 
 window which looked down upon the road. 
 Having stood here for about five minutes, 
 he wished Moll Dreelin a good-bye, and 
 walked out, directing his footsteps towards 
 the Cross. As soon as he had reached this 
 point, after a few minutes' slow, very slow 
 walk, he paused, as if undecided as to the 
 course he should adopt in reference to 
 something passing within his mind.
 
 296 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 Having at length, come to a decision, lie 
 passed over to the road leading upwards 
 in the direction of Glen Corril, on one of 
 the slopes of which his own cottage was 
 situated. This road lay at nearly right 
 angles to that down which Whit more and 
 the tavern-keeper, Peter Mackey, had just 
 proceeded. Having strolled on for some 
 minutes along this road, pondering upon 
 the relations that might exist between the 
 two worthies aforesaid, and turning his 
 eyes occasionally in the direction they had 
 taken, he stopped suddenly, and wheeled 
 round. He saw them parting, and the 
 tavern-keeper retracing his steps towards 
 his own house. The captain, too, com- 
 menced retracing his steps, saying to him- 
 self at the same time, — 
 
 " N'ow, I'll mark if he is anxious to see 
 me. I won't pretend to notice him ; but 
 if it is as I think, he'll be glad to have a 
 chance of a talk with me, in order to probe 
 me about something. If he doesn't much 
 mind me, but goes in without asking me 
 in with him, why then, it can't be as I 
 suspect. — I'll soon see."
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 297 
 
 They botli reached the Cross about the 
 same iQoment ; and as soon as Peter 
 Mackey observed the captain, he saluted 
 him with great apparent cordiality, 
 saying,— 
 
 *' It always does my eyes good, captain, 
 to see you : old neighbours and friends, 
 you know, like to see one another often, 
 and to have a chat about old times. How 
 does the world use you, my best of neigh- 
 bours ? By Jingo ! we must have a drink 
 of something, the day is so warm. Come 
 in, man alive, come in." 
 
 '' Well, Mr. Mackey," rephed the cap- 
 tain, *' I believe there's no love lost between 
 us. Sure enough, we are old neighbours, 
 and friends too ; and, blow me, if ever yet 
 I renaigged a friend, whenever I found him 
 sound in the keel, and staunch along the 
 beam, as you are. 1 have no objection to 
 take a tumbler of beer this hot day." 
 
 '' Jingo there!" ejaculated Peter; " come 
 along then." 
 
 They both entered the shop together ; and 
 Peter having ordered the little boy behind 
 the counter to bring in a quart of beer, he
 
 298 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 passed into tlie side door that opened into 
 a small private room at one end of the 
 shop. After the little boy had placed the 
 beer and two tumblers on a small table at 
 the lower extremity of the room, he retired ; 
 and Peter made fast the door behind him. 
 He then took a seat at the table, and 
 desiring the captain to take another, he 
 poured out the beer into the tumblers, and 
 commenced to speak in a very friendly and 
 confidential tone of voice. At first their 
 conversation was altogether directed to 
 observations on the weather and the crops ; 
 but after a brief interval, when these topics 
 appeared to be exhausted, Peter fell inci- 
 dentally into some trivial remarks on the 
 state of the country, and the prospects that 
 were held out for its improvement by the 
 agitators of the day. 
 
 " You see, captain," observed Peter, 
 with a very trusting and, at the same time, 
 patriotic air, " the way it is with me. By 
 Jingo ! I never like to see the people kept 
 under : there is nothing like liberty of 
 speech, and liberty of conscience ; do you 
 mind me ? Because why ? the reason is 
 plain to be seen : if there's not liberty of
 
 THE GEANVILLES. 299 
 
 conscience, no man can serve bis country, 
 or save liis soul either ; and if there's not 
 Hberty of speech, 'tis useless to have 
 liberty of conscience, because you can't say 
 what you think. That's my politics any- 
 how ; and I hope, Mr. John Gorman, my 
 old friend and co-patriot, that you and I 
 aofree in res^ard to that." 
 
 Here he looked vividly patriotic, clench- 
 ing his thick lips, squeezing the corners of 
 his eyes, and lifting up his nose parallel to 
 the ceiling. 
 
 '^ I again say," he continued, "that I 
 hope Mr. John Gorman and myself agree 
 in the one opinion," looking affectionately, 
 but at the same time with searching 
 acuteness, into the eyes of his companion. 
 
 The captain looked grave and reflective ; 
 but a close observer mio-ht mark a succes- 
 sion oftwinkles, light, quick, and intelligent, 
 passing over the corners of his eyes. He 
 answered immediately, — 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Peter Mackey, you and I 
 steer the same course when the wind blows 
 abaft the binnacle, and no breakers ahead. 
 We are always on the look-out, keepin' our 
 eyes to win'ard. But if the wind should
 
 300 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 veer, and tlie waves break to lee'ard, then 
 we might be obliged to part company, and 
 steer our crafts according to our best 
 judgment. As for tlie liberty of speech, I 
 don't think we have much reason to douse 
 our jib on that score ; the wind is fair and 
 jolly on that tack. And the liberty of 
 conscience lies almost in the same latitude ; 
 the only fault I myself find in regard of 
 that is, that the craft is rather free there — 
 a little thought free ; a little bracing up 
 would do no harm there, sometimes." 
 
 Peter did not appear quite at his ease 
 during these observations of the captain : 
 his nose seemed to grow redder and longer, 
 and his eyes to contract, and glance back 
 towards his poll. However, he was deter- 
 mined to make another move ; and there- 
 fore he smacked his lips, and looked 
 exceedingly complaisant. 
 
 " There's no man in the country," he 
 observed, 'Td trust before yourself in 
 regard of a good heart for the cause of the 
 people. You always stuck to the Coun- 
 sellor, the liberator, I mean, like a man ; 
 and helped to send the word around 
 whenever he wanted the people to show
 
 THE GRANYTLLES. 301 
 
 themselves to their enemies. That's the 
 chat, by Jingo ! A man's a man, if he 
 wasn't worth a penny. That's what I say." 
 
 This was coming to close quarters, and 
 the captain waited the advance of his 
 antagonist with caution. 
 
 "No doubt of it," Mr. Mackey, "the 
 liberator understands the sailing of the 
 craft as well as any man that ever stood 
 on the quarter-deck. He has a bright eye. 
 and a clear head ; and if the ship should 
 come athwart a stiff breeze, with breakers 
 on the lee, 'twould not be his fault if she 
 went wrestling among 'em. He never 
 runs up the wrong channel, but keeps in 
 deep water until the tide offers ; and then 
 he runs up brisk and tight, and casts a 
 safe anchor in port. Xo better navigator 
 than the liberator, I 'gree with you. You 
 see, Mr. Peter Mackey, that you and I 
 always agree in most things, es]pecially in 
 jwUticsJ' 
 
 Peter was somewhat disconcerted; he 
 now found that he must advance on more 
 open ground, and disengage himself from 
 his mask sufficiently to obtain the informa- 
 tion he sought. He accordingly shifted
 
 302 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 ground; and addressing himself to tlie 
 consideration of tlie various cliances of 
 Fortune as exemplified in sucIl as rose or 
 fell within the circle of their acquaintance, 
 he observed, — 
 
 "And there's old Mr. Granville ; who'd 
 have thought, a few years ago, that things 
 would turn out with him as they did ? By 
 jingo ! he was a noble gentleman : one of 
 the real sort, too. I wonder what is 
 Master Herbert going to do? I don't know 
 any young gentleman in the country round, 
 that has more of the sound metal in him 
 than his four bones. "Whisper, captain," 
 and here he bent forward, and placing his 
 lips close to the captain's ear, the red nose 
 appearing doubled by its pressure against 
 the captain's head, " lie is just the young 
 gentleman to lead the hoys on a jpinch.^^ 
 
 He then drew himself back ; and looked 
 into the captain's eyes with an intensity oE 
 gaze that was intended to search his very 
 soul. The captain reeled for a moment ; 
 but he shortly recovered himself, and 
 observed, — 
 
 '' Poor old Mr. Granville was a noble-
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 303 
 
 hearted gentleman, no doubt ; but you see, 
 Mr. Mackey, lie was too generous ; lie 
 allowed too many interlopers on board; 
 and tlie sea stock ran out before the voyage 
 was over. His son is a fine and brave 
 young gentleman, too ; and a Granville to 
 the backbone in everything that's true and 
 honourable. And the man or boy that'll 
 be led by him, will be neither a fool nor a 
 rogue. He knows what is just and fair, 
 and he'll never shrink from doing it ; he 
 knows, too, what is wrong, and mean, and 
 foolish; and no living power on earth will 
 force him to do it. That's who Master 
 Herbert Granville is. He is a man that 
 can stand on the quarter-deck, and by his 
 knowledge, and speech, and conduct, be a 
 credit to the squadron." 
 
 '' Look now, captain," said Peter, coming 
 at length to the point, '' will you tell me — 
 can you tell me, if Master Herbert is joined 
 in that noble association that's got up for 
 the freedom of the country? — long life to it, 
 and long may it flourish in strength and 
 activity — is he joined in that f — the noble 
 association of the TV^hite^et ! "
 
 304 THE GRANVILLES. 
 
 Tlie captain liad him imeartlied at last. 
 It was precisely wliat he had expected. 
 He answered briefly, — 
 
 " I don't think that Master Herbert 
 Granville knows more about the Whitefeet 
 than I do ; and all that I know about them 
 is, that they are as likely to free, or to 
 serve Ireland in any way, as so many 
 school-boys armed with bullrushes. More 
 than that, I believe that they don't know 
 themselves what they are doing ; or how 
 to do anything even if they were called out 
 to do it. Peter Mackey, answer me this — 
 who told you that Master Herbert was 
 joined with the Whitefeet? for some one 
 must have told you so, or you would not 
 ask me that question. — Who told you, 
 Peter Mackey ? " 
 
 Peter winced at this question; but his 
 resources were too many to suffer him to 
 be discomfited. 
 
 " By Jingo, captain, that's a queer ques- 
 tion for you to ask me ; sure and certain 
 you must know that a noble, dashing, high- 
 spirited young gentleman couldn't stand 
 by and see his country suffering without
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 305 
 
 striking a blow for lier. By Jingo, when 
 you and I were young like liim, we 
 wouldn't grudge lending a hand, if things 
 turned up, and the country was in need of 
 it ; and when the likes of us would do it, 
 surely we'd expect that a young gentleman 
 with the highest blood in the country in 
 his veins wouldn't begrudge showing him- 
 self in the noble cause." 
 
 The captain had all the advantage on 
 his side now ; but he pressed his antagonist 
 no further. He had all the information he 
 could require. It was quite clear to him 
 that Joe Whitmore desired to have some 
 charge of a political nature trumped up 
 against Herbert, no matter how slight the 
 foundation on which it stood ; and that he 
 had employed Peter Mackey to assist him 
 in this villainous enterprise. The captain, 
 therefore, concluded that it was better not 
 to refer to Whitmore ; but to keep him off 
 his guard in the progress of his design, in 
 order that he (the captain) might thus be 
 the better able to counteract his schemes, 
 and to protect his young friend against 
 them. He, therefore, contented himself 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 with merely observing, in reply to the last 
 observations of his companion, that, — 
 
 " Master Herbert has noble blood in his 
 veins, no doubt, but that is the very reason 
 that he will never do anything — that he is 
 not capable of doing anything — that would 
 bring shame or disgrace on his name. If 
 his country demands his assistance, that 
 assistance he will surely give by upright 
 and honourable means ; and not by treach- 
 ery or folly. And I believe that it would 
 be both treachery and folly to join any 
 society that works in the dark, and that 
 is only making things worse than they 
 are." 
 
 Peter finding that he could obtain no 
 information such as would be conducive to 
 the views of his employer, dropped the 
 subject, and reverted to the weather and 
 the crops, with an evident desire to with- 
 draw from the company of the captain for 
 the present. The captain seeing this, rose 
 and took leave of his companion, wishing 
 him all manner of success in his patriotic 
 intentions for the liberation of Ireland. 
 
 Having passed out, his first thought was
 
 THE GRANVILLES. 307 
 
 to call upon Herbert, witli tlie view of 
 informing him of wliat had transpired 
 between himself and the tavern-keeper. 
 He accordingly walked in the direction of 
 Ash Grove for some minutes, but remem- 
 bering that that gentleman had gone only 
 an hour or two before for a walk to the 
 Druid's Glen, and that it was not probable 
 he had yet returned, he paused, and began 
 to cast about him for some other plan of 
 operation, when the thought struck him 
 that he should call upon his friend, Denny 
 Mullins, the piper, and concoct with him 
 some plan, the seeds of which were begin- 
 ning to germinate in his mind. 
 
 It will be remembered that the residence 
 of the piper lay on one side of Glen Corril, 
 that glen on the opposite side of which the 
 Glazement was situated ; the former domi- 
 cile being however nearer to the village 
 than the latter. 
 
 The captain, therefore, proceeded up the 
 Ash Grove road, that is, the mountain road 
 which led on to one side of the demesne of 
 Brookfield Hall ; and having reached that 
 point in the road where a passage opened
 
 308 THE GEANVILLES. 
 
 across tlie fields towards tlie rear of the 
 Hall, he turned in here, and pursued his 
 way across the fields a little higher up than 
 the line which he followed on two or three 
 former occasions when we have observed 
 him passing from the Hall to the village. 
 By this course he was enabled to strike 
 out on the farm road above the shrubbery 
 in the rear of the Hall. From this point 
 he pursued his way across the rising ground 
 in the direction of Glen Corril, keeping 
 still alono^ the swell of the hill and skirtino: 
 the grove which crowned its summit. His 
 design was to drop down upon Denny's 
 residence, instead of climbing up to it, 
 which he should have to do if he had taken 
 the road through the Glen. But just as 
 he had passed the lower extremity of the 
 mountain grove and was about to turn his 
 steps downwards to the Glen, he espied 
 Denny approaching him from below, with 
 his pipes, tucked in their green bag, under 
 his arm. 
 
 END or VOL. I. 
 
 v-^
 
 ./