"The moment I was settled in the house I comminced dhraining about an acre iv bog in front, an' the very first winter I sowed a shillin's worth of cabbidge seed, an' sold in the spring a pound's worth of little cabbidge plants for the gardins in the town below. When spring came, noticin' how the early-planted praties did the best, I planted my cabbidge ground with praties, an' I had a noble crap, while the ground was next year fit for the corn. In the mane time, every winther I tuk in more and more ground, an' in summer I cut my turf for fewel, where the cuttins could answer in winther for a dhrain; an' findin' how good the turf were, I got a little powney an' carried 'em to the town to sell, when I was able to buy lime in exchange an' put it on my bog, so as to make it produce double. As things went on I got assistance, an' when I marrid, my wife had two cows that guv me a grate lift.
"I was always thought to be a handy boy, an' I could do a turn of mason-work with any man not riglarly bred to it; so I took one of my loads of lime, an' instead of puttin' it on the land, I made it into morthar—and indeed the stones being no ways scarce, I set to an' built a little kiln, like as I had seen down the counthry. I could then burn my own lime, an' the limestone were near to my hand, too many iv 'em. While all this was goin' on, I had riz an' sould a good dale iv oats and praties, an' every summer I found ready sale for my turf in the town from one jontleman that I always charged at an even rate, year by year. I got the help of a stout boy, a cousin iv my own, who was glad iv a shilter; an' when the childher were ould enough, I got some young cattle that could graze upon the mountain in places where no other use could be made iv the land, and set the gossoons to herd 'em.
"There was one bit iv ground nigh han' to the cabin that puzzled me intirely. It was very poor and sandy, an' little better than a rabbit burrow; an' telling the Squire's Scotch steward iv it, he bade me thry some flax; an' sure enuf, so I did, an' a fine crap iv flax I had as you might wish to see; an' the stame-mills being beginnin' in the counthry at that time, I sould my flax for a very good price, my wife having dhried it, beetled it, an' scutched it with her own two hands.
"I should have said before that the Squire himself came up here with a lot iv fine ladies and jontlemen to see what I had done; an' you never in your life seed a man so well plased as he was, an' a mimber of Parlimint from Scotland was with him, an' he tould me I was a credit to ould Ireland; an' sure didn't Father Connor read upon the papers, how he tould the whole story in the Parlimint house before all the lords an' quality. But faix, he didn't forgit me; for a month or two after he was here, an' it coming on the winter, comes word for me an' the powney to go down to the mentioned (mansion) house, for the steward wanted me. So away I wint, an' there, shure enuf, was an illigant Scotch plough, every inch of iron, an' a lot of young Norroway pines—the same you see shiltering the house an' yard—an' all was a free prisint for me from the Scotch jontleman that was the mimber of Parlimint. 'Twas that plough that did the meracles iv work hereabouts; for I often lint it to any that I knew to be a careful hand, an' it was the manes iv havin' the farmers all round send an' buy 'em. At last I was able to build a brave snug house; and, praised be Providence, I have never had an hour's ill health nor a moment's grief, but when poor Biddy, the cratur, died from us. It is thirty years since that morning that I tuk up the first spadeful from the wild mountain side; an' twelve acres are good labour land, an' fifteen drained an' good grazin'. I have been payin' rint twinty years, an' am still, thank God, able to take my own part iv any day's work—plough, spade, or flail."
"Have you got a lease?" said I.
"No, indeed, nor a schrape of a pin; nor I never axed it. Have I not my tinnant-rite?"
At any moment the labours of poor Con might have been rendered of no benefit to him. He held the wretched hovel and the ground he tilled merely by the permission of the landlord, who could have desolated all by the common process of eviction; and Con would then have been driven to new exertions or to the workhouse. The rugged ballad of "Patrick Fitzpatrick's Farewell," presents a case more common than that of Con McNale:—
"Those three long years I've labour'd hard as any on Erin's isle,
And still was scarcely able my family to keep;