I took this moment to relate the circumstances of Michael Noonan’s death; and when I told them of his dying request about the half-guinea and the silk handkerchief, they were all so much touched, that they utterly forgot the ten-guinea draft, which I saw on the ground, in the dirt, under the old man’s feet, whilst he contemplated the half-guinea which his _poor Michael_ had sent him: repeating, “Poor fellow! poor fellow! ‘twas all he had in the world. God bless him!--Poor Michael! he was a wild chap! but none better to his parents than he while the life was in him. Poor Michael!” In no country have I found such strong instances of filial affection as in Ireland. Let the sons go where they may, let what will befall them, they never forget their parents at home: they write to them constantly the most affectionate letters, and send them a share of whatever they earn. When I asked the daughter of this Noonan, why she had not married? the old man answered, “That’s her own fault--if it be a fault to abide by an old father. She wastes her youth here, in the way your honour sees, tending him who has none other to mind him.” “Oh! let alone _that_,” said the girl, with a cheerful smile; “we be too poor to think of marrying yet, by a great deal! so, father dear, you’re no hinderance any way. For don’t I know, and doesn’t Jemmy there know, that it’s a sin and a shame, as my mother used to say, for them that have nothing, to marry and set up house-keeping, like the rogue that ruined my father?” “That’s true,” said the young man, with a heavy sigh; “but times will mend, or we’ll strive and mend them, with the blessing of God.” I left this miserable but in admiration of the generosity of its inhabitants. I desired the girl to come to Glenthorn Castle the next day, that I might give her the silk handkerchief which her poor brother had sent her. The more I inquired into the circumstances of this family, the more cause I found for pity and approbation. The old man had been a good farmer in his day, as the traditions of the aged, and the memories of the young, were ready to witness; but he was unfortunately joined in _co-partnership_ with a drunken rogue, who ran away, and left an arrear of rent, which ruined Noonan. Mr. Hardcastle, the agent, called upon him to pay it, and sold all that the old man possessed; and this being insufficient to discharge the debt, he was forced to give up his farm, and retire, with his daughter, to this hovel; and soon afterwards he lost the use of his side by a paralytic stroke.