For many a long year has our names
been--but no matther--the time is come at last, and the M'Mahon's of
Carriglass and Ahadarra will be known there no more. It wasn't our
fault; we wor willin' to live--oh! not merely willin' to live, but
anxious to die there; but it can't be. Goodbye, sir." And so they
parted.
M'Mahon, on his return home, found Bryan, who now spent most of his time
at Carriglass, before him. On entering the house his family, who were
all assembled, saw by the expression of his face that his heart had been
deeply moved, and was filled with sorrow.
"Bryan," said he, "you are right--as indeed you always are. Childre',"
he proceeded, "we must lave the place that we loved so much; where we
have lived for hundreds of years. This counthry isn't one now to prosper
in, as I said not long since--this very day. We must lave the ould
places, an' as I tould Fethertonge, the M'Mahons of Ahadarra and
Carriglass will be the M'Mahons of Ahadarra and Carriglass no more; but
God's will be done! I must look to the intherest of you all, childre';
but, God help us, that's what I can't do here for the future. Every one
of sense and substance is doin' so, an' why shouldn't we take care of
ourselves as well as the rest? What we want here is encouragement and
fair play; but _fareer gair_, it isn't to be had.
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