Tumbled around them in all directions were a quantity of gigantic rocks thrown as it were at random during some Titanic war-fare or diversion—­between two of which the still-house was built in such a way, that, were it not for the smoke in daylight, it would be impossible to discover it, or at all events, to suppose that it could be the receptacle of a human being.

On entering, Clinton and his men were by no means surprised to find the place deserted, for this in fact was frequently the case on such occasions.  On looking through the premises, which they did by the light of a large fire, they found precisely that which had been mentioned in Hycy’s letter—­to wit, the Still, the Head, and the Worm; but with the exception of an old broken rundlet or two, and a crazy vessel of wash that was not worth removing, there was nothing whatsoever besides.

The Still was on the fire half filled with water, the Head was on the Still, and the Worm was attached to the Head precisely as if they were in the process of distillation.

“Ay,” said Clinton, on seeing how matters stood, “I think I understand this affair.  It’s a disappointment in one sense—­but a sure enough card in another.  The fine is certain, and Ahadarra is most undoubtedly in for it.”

CHAPTER XV.—­State of the Country

—­Hycy’s Friendship for Bryan M’Mahon—­Bryan’s Interview with his Landlord.

M’Mahon’s last interview with Fethertonge was of so cheering a nature, and indicated on the part of that gentleman so much true and sterling kindness towards the young man and his family, that he felt perfectly satisfied on leaving him, and after having turned their conversation over in his mind, that he might place every confidence in the assurance he had given him.  His father, too, who had never for a moment doubted Feathertonge, felt equally gratified at Bryan’s report of their interview, as indeed did the whole family; they consequently spared neither labor nor expense in the improvements which they were making on their farms.

The situation of the country and neighborhood at this period was indeed peculiar, and such as we in this unhappy country have experienced both before and since.  I have already stated, that there was a partial failure of the potato crop that season, a circumstance which uniformly is the forerunner of famine and sickness.  The failure, however, on that occasion was not caused by a blight in the haulm, or to use plainer words, by a sudden withering of the stalks, but by large portions of the seed failing to grow.  The partial scarcity, however, occasioned by this, although it did not constitute what can with propriety be termed famine, cause the great mass of pauperism which such a season always extends and increases, to press so heavily upon the struggling farmers, that their patience and benevolence became alike tired out and exhausted.  This perpetually