We were soon in the fields. After seeing a great deal of well-kept and tastefully disposed pleasure-ground immediately contiguous to the house, excellent kitchen garden, and admirable farm-yard, stables, &c. we visited an inclosure, called here the _paddock_, where were at least a dozen old horses, which were turned to graze as superannuated pensioners. "When any of these my old and faithful servants," said Phil., "can enjoy life no longer, I have him despatched by a friendly bullet." "But, sir, you might get money for these; they do not seem by any means past their labour." "Not _quite_, perhaps, but they have worked diligently, and shall now have a holyday while they live." From the paddock we proceeded to a line of neat cottages, furnished each with a strip of garden at the back, and ornamented in front by a little rustic paling, thickened into a fence impervious to pigs and dogs, by privet, sweet brier, and roses. "Here are some of your tenants' houses, Mr. Otway, I suppose." "Why not exactly tenants in the _usual_ sense: these are poor people, who, like my old horses, have seen their best days in my service, and it is fair that _they_ too should rest from their labours." Showers of blessings were shed from these humble dwellings as we passed along, which were repaid by kind greetings from their benefactor. With one poor soul who sat in an arm-chair made of straw at her door, and who was blind, the good Phil. shook hands, and said aloud, "Mr. Howard, this is Kate Sullivan, the Queen of _Pastime Row_, which is the name given by your cousin Fanny to this line of houses." Old Kate appeared to feel as much delighted by this distinguishing compliment, as an autocrat of the proudest empire could be in seeing all the nations of the earth paying homage to his supremacy. "God bless Miss Fanny, and all the misses of the Glynn," cried old _Cathleen_; "they are the Lord's own children; and glory, honour, and praise be to his holy name; he will make a wide gap for 'em whenever they are going into heaven; and _Maaster_ Arthur, my heart (for 'tis I that very well has a right to know that you're he, and nobody else), if his honour would'nt be after telling you the _maining_ of Miss Fanny's _concait_, why, sir, 'tis, that she's a pleasant, funny craiture in herself, and she have a _double aim_ in _wording_ the houses; for _pastime_ they say is all as one as games, and sport-like; and it _mains_ too, that (God be praised for all things) _we_ are going down the hill, as I may say, and past our time for being any good-for."