But, having capital, he could afford to pay a good rent for a real good farm." RANDAL (bitterly).--"All capital seems to fly from the lands of Rood.
And whose farm did he take ?" FARMER BRUCE.--"He took Hawleigh, under Squire Hazeldean.

I rent it now.
We've laid out a power o' money on it.

But I don't complain.

It pays well." RANDAL.--"Would the money have paid as well sunk on my father's land ?" FARMER BRUCE.--"Perhaps it might, in the long run.

But then, sir, we wanted new premises,--barns and cattlesheds, and a deal more,--which the landlord should do; but it is not every landlord as can afford that.
Squire Hazeldean's a rich man." RANDAL.--"Ay!" The road now became pretty good, and the farmer put his horse into a brisk trot.
"But which way be you going, sir?
I don't care for a few miles more or less, if I can be of service." "I am going to Hazeldean," said Randal, rousing himself from a revery.
"Don't let me take you out of your way." "O, Hawleigh Farm is on the other side of the village, so it be quite my way, sir." The farmer, then, who was really a smart young fellow,--one of that race which the application of capital to land has produced, and which, in point of education and refinement, are at least on a par with the squires of a former generation,--began to talk about his handsome horse, about horses in general, about hunting and coursing: he handled all these subjects with spirit, yet with modesty.