'Or, rather, his views of it are different. I speak, happily for me, in ignorance; yet it seems as though every trial in life was a preparation for some higher scale of blissful enjoyment; and that as our understandings mature in power, so do our hearts in goodness—chastening at each ordeal of life, till at last the final sorrow, death, bids us prepare for the eternity where there is no longer grief, and where the weary are at rest.'

'Is not your view of life rather derived from the happy experience of this quiet spot than suited for the collisions of the world, where, as men grow older, their consciences grow more seared, their hearts less open?'

'Perhaps; but is not my philosophy a good one that fits me for my station? My life has been cast here; I have no wish to leave it. I hope I never shall.'

'Never! Surely, you would like to see other countries,—to travel?'

'No, no! All the brilliant pleasures you can picture for me would never requite the fears I must suffer lest these objects should grow less dear to me when I came back to them. The Tyrol is doubtless grander in its wild magnificence; but can it ever come home to my heart with so many affections and memories as these bold cliffs I have gazed on in my infancy; or should I benefit in happiness if it did? Can your Swiss peasant, be his costume ever so picturesque, interest me one half as much as yonder poor fisherman, who is carrying up his little child in his arms from the beach? I know him, his home, his hearth; I have seen his grateful smile for some small benefit, and heard his words of thankfulness. And think you not that such recollections as these are all mingled in every glance I throw around me, and that every sunlit spot of landscape shines not more brightly in my heart for its human associations? These may be narrow prejudices—I see you smile at me.'

'No, no! Trust me, I do not undervalue your reasons.'

'Well, here comes Father Loftus, and he shall be judge between us. We were discussing the advantages of contrasting our home with other countries——'

'Ahem! A very difficult point,' said the priest, interrupting her, and drawing himself up with a great air of judicial importance. 'Ubi bene, ibi patria—which may be rendered, “There's potatoes everywhere.” Not that I incline to the doctrine myself. Ireland is the only enjoyable country I know of. Utamur creatura, dum possumus—that means “a moderate use of creature comforts,” Miss Louisa. But, troth, I'm so heated with an argument I had with Sir Simon, that I'm no ways competent—— Did I tell you he was waiting for his tea?'

'No, indeed you did not,' said Miss Bellew, giving vent to a laugh she had been struggling against for the last few minutes; and which I did not at the moment know was caused by her perceiving the priest's air of chagrin and discontent, the evident proofs of his being worsted by the old baronet, whose chief pleasure in life was to worry the father into a discussion, and either confuse or confute him. 'My father seems in such good spirits to-night! Don't you think so?' said she roguishly, looking over at the priest.

'Never saw him better; quite lively and animated, and'—dropping his voice to a whisper—-'as obstinate as ever.'