"
Looking at the other side of the glorious lake, at the long thicket of
trees that shades the demesne that Wynne of Hazelwood keeps for his home
and glory, stretching over miles of country; saw the little grey
rabbits, more precious than men in my native land, that were hopping
along, after their manner, quite a little procession of them, at the
edge of the bush; and said, "What kind of a landlord does Wynne of
Hazelwood make?" "Is it Mr. Wynne, ma'am? Oh, then, sure it's him that
is the good landlord and the good man out and out. He is a good man, a
very good man, and no mistake." "Why, what makes you think him such a
good man?" "Because he never does a mane or durty action; he's a
gentleman entirely." "Come now, you tell me what he does not do; if you
want me to believe in your Mr. Wynne, tell me some good thing he has
done." "I can soon do that, ma'am," said my water maiden. "Last winter
was a hard winter; the work was scarce, and the poor people would have
starved for want of fire but for Mr. Wynne of Hazelwood." "He let you
gather sticks in his woods, then?" "He did more than that; he cut down
trees on purpose for the people, and we drew them over the ice, for the
lough was frozen over.
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