on the thatched roof of which a hen was clucking and scraping. These
cottages Mr. Edgeworth had, after long difficulty, bought up and
condemned as unfit for human habitation. The plans had been considered,
the orders given to build new cottages in their place, which were to
be let to the old tenants at the old rent, but the last remaining
inhabitant absolutely refused to leave; we saw an old woman in a hood
slowly crossing the road, and carrying a pail for water; no threats or
inducements would move her, not even the sight of a neat little house,
white-washed and painted, and all ready for her to step into. Her
present rent was 10d. a week, Mr. Edgeworth told me, and she had been
letting the tumble-down shed to a large family for 1s. 4d. This sub-let
was forcibly put an end to, but the landlady still stops there, and
there she will stay until the roof tumbles down upon her head. The old
creature passed on through the sunshine, a decrepit, picturesque figure
carrying her pail to the stream, defying all the laws of progress and
political economy and civilisation in her feebleness and determination.

Most of the women came to their doors to see us go by. They all looked
as old as the hills--some dropt curtseys, others threw up their arms in
benediction. From a cottage farther up the road issued a strange, shy
old creature, looking like a bundle of hay, walking on bare legs. She
came up with a pinch of snuff, and a shake of the hand; she was of the
family of the man who had once saved Edgeworthstown from being destroyed
by the rebels. 'Sure it was not her father,' said old Peggy,' it was her
grandfather did it!' So she explained, but it was hard to believe that
such an old, old creature had ever had a grandfather in the memory of
man.

The glebe lands lie beyond the village. They reach as far as the church
on its high plateau, from which you can see the Wicklow Hills on a fine