Is he not enough to drive one mad, Owen ?"--Poor Owen shook his head, and looked down.

"Hark ye, Frank," continued my father, "I will cut all this matter very short.

I was at your age when my father turned me out of doors, and settled my legal inheritance on my younger brother.

I left Osbaldistone Hall on the back of a broken-down hunter, with ten guineas in my purse.

I have never crossed the threshold again, and I never will.
I know not, and I care not, if my fox-hunting brother is alive, or has broken his neck; but he has children, Frank, and one of them shall be my son if you cross me farther in this matter." "You will do your pleasure," I answered--rather, I fear, with more sullen indifference than respect, "with what is your own." "Yes, Frank, what I have _is_ my own, if labour in getting, and care in augmenting, can make a right of property; and no drone shall feed on my honeycomb.