Keep his father, however, on the property; I insist on that; he is an honest man, for he voted for me; keep him on his farm at reasonable terms too, such,--of course, as he can live on." The reasonable terms proposed by Fethertonge were, however, such as old Tom M'Mahon could not with any prospect of independence encounter.

Even this, however, was not to him the most depressing consideration.

Faith had been wantonly and deliberately broken with him--the solemn words of a dying man had been disregarded--and, as Fethertonge had made him believe, by that son who had always professed to regard and honor his father's memory.
"I assure you, M'Mahon," replied the agent, in the last interview he ever had with him, "I assure you I have done all in my power to bring matters about; but without avail.

It is a painful thing to have to do with an obstinate man, M'Mahon; with a man who, although he seems quiet and easy, will and must have everything his own way." "Well, sir," replied M'Mahon, "you know what his dying father's words wor to me." "And more than I know them, I can assure you," he whispered, in a very significant voice, and with a nod of the head that seemed to say, "your landlord knows them as well as I do.

I have done my duty, and communicated them to him, as I ought." M'Mahon shook his head in a melancholy manner, and said,-- "Well, sir, at any rate I know the worst.