“No fear, uncle,” said Harry, pausing in his new land-proprietor mood to cut down a thistle with a swinging blow of his cane. “No fear, I say. I’ll live up to my income, but then that is perfectly legitimate, for the estate does not die with me. Just now, of course, there are a number of expenses which never will be renewed in my time--all this improvement and furnishing--and that may straighten me for a year, perhaps--but then I expected that; and I don’t want to hoard and lay up money, uncle.” “Nor would I want that, Harry,” said the old man; “far from it--but mind-- ‘No for to hide it in a hedge, Nor for a train attendant, But for the glorious privilege Of being independent.’ I am not a man to blaw about independence, Harry; and even Robert Burns himself, poor man, speaks of his ain in a way that pleases me little--but it’s a grand thing to feel that you’re standing on your ain feet, and no leaning on a prop that may be drawn away itself, and ruin you. I am not the right person to give you counsel either, Harry, for I ken little about the affairs of the world, how they work, or what’s the wisest way--only I’m an auld man, and have had my ain thoughts; be canny, Harry, with the siller.” “Yes, yes, no fear,” repeated Harry, a little impatiently; “there is one thing I thought of speaking to you about, uncle. They tell me that if I took William Hunter’s farm into my own hands, and cultivated it in the scientific way--I could employ a man to manage that, you know--I might double its value. Now in the estate of Allenders, there’s this Mr. Hunter’s farm, which he pays two hundred pounds for, and a Mr. Sinclair has a much less one for a hundred and fifty, and there’s a house I’ll show you between this and Stirling, with twenty acres attached to it, that pays me fifty pounds--and the rest of the property is made up of some houses in Stirling, and the half of the village down here. So you see there is part of my income dependent on the chance of these houses letting well. They are all right just now, but one can never depend on that, and Mr. Hunter’s lease is out. He does not wish to renew it himself, and though I have several offers for the farm, I have a great mind to keep it in my own hands. I think such an occupation as that is the very thing for me; but then, I’ve no capital.” “Ay Harry, ay Harry,” said his uncle with eager interest, “are you thinking already about occupation for the leisure that God has given you? I like that--it gives me good heart; and, Harry, my man, just look at that grand country. I ken no pleasure greater than working on it, and bringing out the wealth that is home-born and in the soil; better than your merchandizing, Harry,” and the old man heartily shook his nephew’s hand. “Yes, uncle; but the capital,” said Harry.