There is nothing to show very clearly under what circumstances the patronymic M‘Owen made way for the more euphonious Owenson. We are inclined to believe that the change must have occurred at the time when young M‘Owen became a dependant upon the Blakes, and hereby hangs a tale. Mrs M‘Owen, it appears, was a sweet singer, and played skilfully on the Irish harp. She possessed likewise a large share of that inventive faculty which descended to her granddaughter, for she managed to get up such a story, and to tell it so effectively, as to induce a rich neighbour to become the patron of her son. A Mr Blake, a man of enormous wealth, had purchased the property on which M‘Owen’s cabin stood. He called one day on the inmates, and was struck, of course, with the ladylike manners of one of them, who soon made him aware of the gentility of her own descent, and got up a pedigree still more startling for her husband and son. Mr Blake was assured, with great solemnity and perfect effect, that at some period indefinitely remote a Blake had diddled a M‘Owen out of his estate. The millionaire’s sympathies were awakened, either by the tale, or by the manner of telling it; and as he had previously been struck by the boy’s exquisite voice (for young M‘Owen sang like a thrush, and formed one of the choir in the morning at the chapel, and in the afternoon at the church), Mr Blake forthwith proposed to take him into his family and do for him. It was too good an offer to be refused. Young M‘Owen, henceforth to be spoken of as Owenson, left the cabin for the hall, and received just such an education as a horribly selfish bachelor with some fine tastes considered would suffice to render the boy useful to himself, and amusing to other people.