order and obedience; in many cases it is impossible to do more. But even that much, if done with steadiness and moderation, will greatly civilize the people and increase their comfort."

"Do you think, Mr. Elton, that the people are anxious for education?" said Evelyn hesitatingly.

"Undoubtedly," replied he, "they prize it highly, and will often undergo much fatigue and difficulty in order to procure it." "That is very encouraging," said Evelyn: "I am glad to see that my efforts will not be thrown away."

"Yes; it would be disheartening," said Mr. Elton, "to think our own people less desirous of education than the uncivilized inhabitants of the South Sea Islands, of whom I heard a pleasing anecdote lately, which was related by Mr. Pritchard the missionary. At the time he was in the island of Raratonga, there was such a large attendance of the native children at the Missionary school, that the supply of slates and pencils failed; but the ingenuity of the little boys soon provided a substitute. Among the hills they had observed a slaty kind of stone, which they could split into thin pieces; and, procuring from the shore a lump of coral, they rubbed the one on the other till they made the face of the stone quite smooth, and then they stained it of a dark colour in order to show writing more distinctly. Having thus provided themselves with slates from the hills, they had recourse to the sea for pencils; the numerous spines of the sea-egg, a species of Echinus, answering the purpose perfectly well."

Evelyn listened with reverence and deep interest to all Mr. Elton said. She was charmed with the anecdote of the little South Sea Islanders; and enjoyed Mr. Elton's conversation so much that she would gladly have prolonged her visit had not Mr. Desmond reminded her of the impropriety of intruding on Mr. Elton's precious time, especially on Sunday. She took leave of him with a kindness very gratifying to him, and he gave her his blessing in a most impressive and touching manner.

In their drive home Mr. Stanley warmly expressed his approbation of Mr. Elton's sentiments, and his satisfaction that Evelyn had such a parish minister.

Drive to Clonallen

CHAPTER XI.

- Bog-Turf Fuel - The pretty Hamlet - Neatness and Comfort near Clonallen-Arrival there-Mabel.

THE distance between Cromdarragh Castle and Clonallen was only fifteen miles; but hill and bog made the journey tedious. Few places in that direction had much wood to boast of; and after the road turned off from Evelyn's wellplanted demesne, the country appeared to her eyes-accustomed to the rich woods and hedgerows of England-truly bare and desolate. Mr. Stanley, too, was disappointed at the sudden change to a bleak country, for the view of the hills and moors, among which the road wound, was diversified only by a few fields of corn or potatoes, which showed, indeed, that the inhabitants of those scattered hamlets were not deficient in industry, though sadly in want of the means of bringing their waste land into cultivation.

As they passed these miserable dwellings Evelyn felt what a pleasure it would be to relieve their distressed inhabitants : her first impulse would have been to stop, and at the moment to give assistance largely to each. It was then, however, impossible; but the cheerful and good natured appearance of those poor people in the midst of penury made a deep impression on her mind, and for some time her thoughts were so much occupied in devising plans for improving the state of the poor cottagers, that she paid little attention to the conversation of the rest of the party.

But at length the appearance of the country changed: no longer on a wide road among bare hills, they were now, Evelyn perceived, on a sort of raised-up causeway, with what appeared like a deep gulf of water on each side, while nothing was to be seen around but a wide waste of dark brown bog, partly covered with moss and heath and small stacks of turf.

Mr. Stanley expressed some surprise at the extent of the bog and at its general appearance: in reply to his inquiries Mr. Desmond told him it was the same as what is called peat-moss in many parts of England, or simply moss in the north of England; and Evelyn, recollecting her surprise when she first observed some in her journey to Cromdarragh, and heard that such an odd-looking substance could be used as fuel, said she still thought it must make very bad fires.

"Bad fires, indeed, I should think!" said Mr. Stanley; "how wet and dull they must be !

"Wet as it appears when first cut out of the bog," said Mr. Desmond, "it becomes very dry when spread in the air for some time, and is then brought home and piled in large stacks in our farm-yards—a store for winter fires-and very comfortable we find them."

"What a very nasty odd sort of fire they must make; just like wet wood!" said Evelyn.

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No, I assure you," said Mrs. Desmond, "if the turf be well saved and kept dry, it makes a most delightful, bright, hot, cheerful fire; and so far from being nasty, as you suppose, it is much cleaner than coal. It forms a much larger quantity of ashes; and though they are so light as to fly about the room sometimes, yet they do not soil what they touch. It has only one fault, that of burning too quickly, and therefore requiring constant attention."

"I should feel that as a serious objection to it," said Mr. Stanley; "it is so troublesome to interrupt one's studies and pursuits even to stir the fire. No wonder the Irish are so vivacious! They never can give their whole attention to any object, however important, for half at least of their thoughts must be occupied by the perpetual necessity of putting on fresh fuel."

"Very good!" said Mr. Desmond, laughing: "I wish, however, that you would try at my house the possibility of studying beside a good turf-fire next winter."

"Oh, papa!" said Evelyn, "perhaps it might enliven Mr. Driver to enjoy a few cold nights beside a turf-fire; he requires it more than Mr. Stanley, whom we should like to have all the

winter for our own sakes. How droll poor stiff Mr. Driver would look at such a fire! He would never understand it; and I am sure it would disturb his calculations and set him all wrong: how charming that would be!"

"But to return to our subject," said Mr. Stanley, looking grave at Evelyn's little bit of malice towards Mr. Driver; you seem to have great abundance of this fuel, whether good or bad; is it equally plentiful in all parts of Ireland?"

"I am sorry," replied Mr. Desmond, "to say that there are large districts of our island totally without bog; and there the distress of the poor for so important an article of comfort is extreme. Coal, whether procured from our own coal-mines or brought from England, is too expensive for the poor, though perhaps more economical than turf for the rich, who can afford to pay a high price at once for an article that repays them by its being much more slowly consumed than turf."

"We must consider their distress as some excuse, then, for cutting and breaking trees and hedges, as I have heard they do," said Mr. Stanley.

"I have often wished," said Mr. Desmond, "that country gentlemen would thin their plantations regularly, for the express purpose of providing fuel for the poorer peasantry; it would be advantageous to the trees, and would be an inducement to the people to protect our plantations instead of destroying them."

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"But would not that regular gift at once diminish their industry, and be, after a short time, considered as their right ?" Certainly, if it was a gift; but I would sell the wood at a moderate price, except in cases of distress," replied Mr. Desmond.

"I do not recollect seeing any bogs, or even hearing of them, in England,” said Evelyn.

"There are some extensive bogs in Lancashire and the northern counties, and also in Huntingdonshire, from whence peat for fuel is brought in small quantities to London. In many places they have been brought into cultivation, and now amply repay the expense of reclaiming them."

"I wish that could be done in Ireland," said Mr. Stanley;

"how advantageous would it be to have all this extent of bog, as you call it, rendered capable of producing food!

"There have been several very successful instances in Ireland of bogs reclaimed within these few years; but the result depends very much on the nature of the bog and its situation."

"Well, I know if I find that I have any bog I am determined that it shall be reclaimed and cultivated, that it may produce plenty of food for my people," exclaimed Evelyn.

"That may be a desirable object," said Mrs. Desmond; "yet you must remember that fuel is as essential as food, and that all such improvements, if too precipitate, may become mischievous."

"Oh! as to that, I will buy coals for all the poor on my land till the produce of their reclaimed bogs makes them rich enough to purchase it for themselves. Look at those miserable creatures whom I have been for some time watching, and at those wretched little ponies with panniers of turf on their backs; we have passed several. I am sure such a pittance of fuel is hardly earned."

"I do not think that degree of labour can be called very hard, in fine weather at least," said Mrs. Desmond: "in soft wet ground a little pony answers better than a horse and cart. Sometimes, indeed," she added, "the love of procrastination does make it hard work; for if the season has become wet before they begin, it is with the utmost difficulty, and often with hazard to themselves, that they can bring away the turf, as the wetness of the bog renders it nearly impossible. The landlord might often give material assistance to his cottagers by attending to the bog-roads, and by insisting on the turf being cut and saved early, so as to be ready to carry away in good time."

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"You spoke of cultivating all your bogs, Evelyn; but before you turn them into potato-fields," said Mr. Desmond, pray recollect that this sort of fuel is a treasure that we possess independently of wind and sea, and of all expensive mining operations. If permitted by their employers to cut their turf early, the poor may, by a little exertion, be secure in these boggy regions of having firing, the expense of which