looked round in delight. It was the
inauguration of the new regime. Lady Wellbury
had no occasion to say, as Sir Thomas had
done, " What a desolate place! " But her
exclamation was, " How very charming! " and
more than half-a-dozen juvenile voices re-
echoed the words— " Oh! what a very pretty
place!"

The family had scarcely got settled in its new
abode before other carriages and cars from
the neighbouring towns came driving up to
Sporeen; for Sir Thomas had sent word to
his friends in England, that for shooting,
fishing, salmon and trout in shoals; hares,
pheasants, partridges, and grouse in thousands;
there never was such a district. And soon
Sporeen, its woods, and its moorlands,
witnessed as gay and jolly a life as if no dark
tragedy had ever stained its threshold.

Meanwhile, the steward was not idle. He
was seen riding rapidly over the moorlands,
now in this direction, now in that. He had a,
couple of land-surveyors measuring and staking
out enclosures. He had a number of men
in the woods marking out the proper timber
to fell a month or two later, for posts, rails,
and all the necessary demands of enclosures.
He had many other men laying out the
new village on the border of the lake. It
consisted only of a single row of detached
cottages, with their gardens behind them on
the slope. If more were wanted in time, a
second street or row of them was to run
parallel at the back of the first gardens; and
the school-house and a general shop were
placed in a little square in the centre; which
would be completed by other buildings that
might be required in time.

The steward was anxious to complete a
score of houses before winter for as many
labourers and their families, or otherwise the
men would lose much of their time in going
to and fro between their distant cabins and
their work. Sir Thomas was soon witness
to the actual struggle there was for employment
at a shilling a day. The steward and
himself were eagerly beset by applicants
wherever they were seen. They came by
crowds up to the house; they ran in all
directions to overtake them on the moorlands,
as they caught sight of them on horseback;
and as all possible progress was desirable
with the village, a great number were
employed. Some were set to post and rail out
the gardens, and plant quicksets for hedges.
Some gathered the loose stones from the
moorland, which in places nearly covered
them, for these were to build the cottages.
Others cut the heather which was to thatch
them, and carted it to the side of the village.
Many waited on the builders with stones
and mortar, and others were employed in
breaking stones to Macadamise the village
street. It was marvellous—with plenty of
hands and under the eyes of Sir Thomas and
the steward—in what a short time the cottages
were completed, and had fires burning in
them to dry them. With their grey-stone
walls and heather roofs, they had a moorland
look, but were far too neat for Irish cabins.
Mr. Goodacre said to Sir Thomas that he knew
very well that the neatness required by him
would be very troublesome to the inhabitants
for a good while. They would miss the nice
holes in mud floors, where geese could paddle
and pigs wallow, and they would miss still
more the refuse pit at the front door,
which he had prohibited; but he meant to
accustom them to somewhat more civilised
habits.

In a few months a regular hamlet appeared;
its gardens scattered with the pleasant green
of fruit trees, which gave the place a clothed
look. Before winter set in—the cottages being
considered dry enough—the men and their
families were allowed to take possession. Sir
Thomas was afraid that the villagers would soon
disturb and diminish his trout (with which
the lake abounded), but the steward advised
that this lake should be given up to com-
merce, as there was a still larger one on the
property; and that the people should be allowed
to angle at their pleasure. Sir Thomas at
first shook his head at the proposal, but soon
consented; for it was found that it would be
absolutely necessary to build a second row of
cottages in the spring; and the little canal,
which was to connect the lake with that of
Sir John Belthorne's, was positively decided
upon.

Alas for the poor old heron! It could find
no solitary spot on the margins of the lakes
to watch for its prey. The tree upon which
it had passed the greater part of its life had
been felled. Bewildered and affrighted, it flew
away. Some said it died; for no one had
seen it since the arrival of the new Squire.

And here we must leave our friends at
their labours; which are likely to continue
for years. There are the farms to lay out;
farm-houses to build. There are roads to lead
out from the hall to the village, and from the
village to the next high road. Peasants have
been employed to collect sacks of hawthorn
hips to sow at Sporeen for the many miles of
hedges that will be wanted; and all sorts of
seeds of trees for future plantations. A
plantation of many acres, under the care of the
gardeners, has been made, and carefully fenced
with split oak-paling from the incursions of
hares and rabbits.

Sir Thomas has discovered a new pleasure
in life—that of planting a new colony. He
has grown quite enthusiastic in the work,
and thoroughly enamoured of his plans and
improvements. He thanks Mr. Goodacre
heartily and often for the exquisite and
unfailing source of a broad, animating, and
active enjoyment that he has opened up to
him. He has emigrated, and yet is at home.
New mountains, a new ocean expanse, new
woods, and heather, and lakes are around
him—new people, new habits, and new
interests—and yet he knows that in a very