12.2 THE COLONEI/S STORY. 



"The house was one of those old-fashioned, comfortable 

 Irish lodges, which are now extinct, or only to be seen in 

 rains. It was a long low building, covered with an infinity 

 of thatch, which bade defiance to rain, cold, and storm. The 

 tall and narrow casements reached the ground, a handsome 

 flower-knot extended in their front bounded by a holly hedge, 

 and woodbine and other creepers festooned the windows with 

 their leaves and berries. At some distance a well- stocked 

 haggard peeped over a spacious range of offices ; the lawn was 

 studded with sheep, which appeared overburdened with good 

 condition ; and as I drove up the avenue, 1 passed a well- 

 featured, well-clad simpleton, urging before him from a neigh- 

 bouring stubble-field, a flock of turkeys as formidable for 

 numbers as for size. In short, everything about the place 

 bespoke the opulence and comfort of the proprietor. 



" Mr. Morden was a clever and respectable man ; he was 

 land-agent to several large estates noted for plain and unpre- 

 tending hospitality, punctuality in business, and a character of 

 unusual determination. 



" The old gentleman received me with friendly sincerity, 

 and his handsome daughter added a warm welcome. They 

 apologized for not having company to meet me, but ' two 

 families which they had expected, had been detained by some 

 unforeseen occurrences at home/ Dinner was shortly after 

 served. Like the host, it was excellent without display the 

 wines were superior and when the ladies left us, the claret 

 went round the table merrily. 



" ' We are in trouble here/ said Mr. Morden, addressing 

 me, ' and you have come to a house of mourning. We have 

 just suffered a serious, I may say irreparable loss, in the 

 sudden death of two favourite dogs. They were of the 

 genuine breed of Newfoundland, and for size, courage, and 

 sagacity, unequalled. Poor Emily has cried incessantly since 

 the accident/ 



" ' Were they stolen ?' 



" ' Oh, no ! I wish they were, for that would afford a hope 

 that chance or money might recover them. No, Sir, they 

 would not follow a stranger ; alas ! they died yesterday by 

 poison. We unfortunately laid arsenic in a meal-loft to 

 destroy rats and yet how the poor animals could have got 

 to it is a mystery ; the steward declares the key never left 

 his possession. I would give a hundred guineas the meal 



