"It is almost a belfry," said Lady Helena.
"Yes, madam; and while one makes bread for the body, the other announces bread for the soul. In this respect they resemble each other."
"Let us go to the mill," replied Glenarvan.
They accordingly started. After half an hour's walk the soil assumed a new aspect. The transition from barren plains to cultivated fields was sudden. Instead of brushwood, quick-set hedges surrounded an inclosure freshly ploughed. Some cattle, and half a dozen horses, grazed in pastures encircled by acacias. Then fields of corn were reached, several acres of land bristling with the yellow ears, haycocks like great bee-hives, vineyards with blooming inclosures, a beautiful garden, where the useful and the ornamental mingled; in short, a fair and comfortable locality, which the merry mill crowned with its pointed gable and caressed with the moving shadow of its sails.
At this moment a man of about fifty, of prepossessing countenance, issued from the principal house, at the barking of three great dogs that announced the coming of the strangers. Five stout and handsome boys, his sons, accompanied by their mother, a tall, robust woman, followed him. This man, surrounded by his healthful family, in the midst of these new erections, in this almost virgin country, presented the perfect type of the colonist, who, endeavoring to better his lot, seeks his fortune and happiness beyond the seas.
Glenarvan and his friends had not yet introduced themselves, they had not had time to declare either their names or their rank, when these cordial words saluted them:—
AN AUSTRALIAN HOME.
"Strangers, welcome to the house of Patrick O'Moore."
"You are an Irishman?" said Glenarvan, taking the hand that the colonist offered him.