"My child! my child! our fortune is made." The proprietor of this land, and indeed of the whole parish, was a retired warrior, Colonel Clifford.

Hope knew that very well, and hurried to Clifford Hall, all on fire with his discovery.
He obtained an interview without any difficulty.

Colonel Clifford, though proud as Lucifer, was accessible and stiffly civil to humble folk.

He was gracious enough to Hope; but, when the poor fellow let him know he had found signs of coal on his land, he froze directly; told him that two gentlemen in that neighborhood had wasted their money groping the bowels of the earth for coal, because of delusive indications on the surface of the soil; and that for his part, even if he was sure of success, he would not dirty his fingers with coal.

"I believe," said he, "the northern nobility descend to this sort of thing; but then they have not smelled powder, and seen glory, and served her Majesty.