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Rh myself where they lie, because they will give me no welcome, nor speak a kind word, as they used to do." We passed over sand-banks and ditches, to the cottage where her father and mother had lived and died, leaving two sisters and two brothers on the paternal estate. The cottage had no wicket-gate, no flowers nor shrubs; but standing upon the margin of the lake, it seemed modestly to say, "Walk in, my comforts shall be equal to all I have promised." The interior was neat. Here were the remains of an ancient family, who had "lived to enjoy," who could walk or ride, could entertain guests in true Irish hospitality, for many a century back; but death had removed the head of the family; famine had wasted the tenantry; the fields were neglected; "and here," said the sister who kept the cottage, "we are sitting as you see, with little to cheer us, and less to hope for the future." We visited the churchyard, which my companion thought she could not see—a brother offered to be her companion—and we found it upon a rising hillock, by the sea-side; it was a Protestant one, and a snug church had stood near; but the landholder, Mr. Bingham, had caused it to be taken down, and another built in a town or village called Bingham's Town. Here was another specimen of the peculiar grave-yards on the sea-coast of Ireland. The better classes have a monument of rough stones put over the whole surface of the grave, elevated a few feet, and cemented with mortar. The poorer classes must be content to lie under a simple covering of rough stones, without being