"You see that beacon away yonder on top of the _rand_? Well, that's my boundary. Mine! I'm your next-door neighbour now. Your father and I spent three mortal hours this morning haggling with five generations of Van Aardts, and now that eight thousand morgen is mine. So I shall always be here, as you said then. Now I wonder if you will always be as pleased as you are now." So do we, reader, but the conditions of life are desperately uncertain, wherefore who can tell? That it is unsafe to prophesy unless you know, is eke a wise saw, which for present purposes we propose to bear in mind. Nevertheless-- The End. End of Project Gutenberg's The Triumph of Hilary Blachland, by Bertram Mitford