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saint of the barony, hewn out of the solid rock with his own hands."*

The Commodore leant his head eagerly forward, and in a peculiar tone of voice, said, “And under the hill of Kilcrohan there stands--there did stand, a small ancient building, commanding the bay of Kenmare, once a friary.”

“I know it well, your honor; the chapelry of Glinsky, the school-house of Terence oge O'Leary, and is there to this hour, troth."

To this hour?" repeated the Commodore in emotion. “That's the ruins of it, your honor. After measter O'Leary quit the place, nobody cared to take


* Smith's Kerry.-In this hill Antiquarians assert that St. Kieran, the first bishop of Ossory, wrote his rule for monks. The stalactitical exudations of this romantic hermitage are held in great veneration by the country people, who carefully preserve them, in the belief that they derive many virtues from the sanctity of the place that produces them.

in it; and somehow, the times doesn't favour larning now in Kerry as formerly; and besides, there was an odd story went about the school-house. I disremember me what now; and was a slip of a boy then, and went higher up

into Clancare-that's twenty years ago, aye, faith, twenty-two years, since Terence Oge quit the place."

“And more," said the lame beggar, who was filling a sieve with some oats out of a sort of chest near the hearth. “ I've good right to remember it well, for I was the very man that brought the young lord, that would have been, from Court Fitzadelm to Terence Oge O'Leary's house, who was his foster father, and

gave him all the learning he got, now, young gentleman.”

“Did you?" said the Commodore, seizing his upraised arm; then suddenly letting it drop, he asked in an altered tone, “Did you send for a smith to look to our chaise?

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"I did, your honor, and is at it this moment; and troth, I didn't see that same chaise drive up the night with a dry eye; for,” he added, turning to the Kerryman, “it was in that very chaise, which my lord-brought his elegant bride in, that I afterwards carried her son, after her death, down to Dunkerron to measter O'Leary's, from whence he never returned dead or alive."

“That's the young lord, was drowned off the Bay of Kenmare, in his own bit of a corragh, and they say haunts the chapelry of Glensky to this hour," demanded the Kerryman.

“ Och! to my heavy sorrow," said the mendicant, dropping the vessel he was measuring the corn with, and leaning over the chest, “ that was a sore day for me, Sir, for if he was in it this hour, it isn't in this condition I'd be, ould and larne, poor and desolate, and so I tould Measter O'Leary last week, who dropt salt tears when he saw me.”

“Last week!" reiterated the stranger; then, with a change of voice, he added, • Were you in Kerry last week, in Dunkerron? I am travelling that way, and should like to know the state of the roads.' SI

was not, Sir, in Kerry, and never put my foot in it since I left the young gentleman there, that's the honourable De Montenay Fitzadelm.'

“ You said you saw O'Leary there, I thought."

“ It was down in the Peninsula I saw Mr. Terence Oge O'Leary, your honor, and am but just come from it this day."

“The Peninsula!" repeated the Commodore, “where is that?"

“ The Peninsula of Dunore, Sir, on the other side of the Boggra mountains, where the Marquis's castle is, on the sea-side, at the bottom of the country, a lovely fine place.”

“ I suppose the castle is in ruins?

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observed Mr. De Vere, carelessly-I mean Dunore castle."

“Not at all, your honor, but as good as the day it was built, every stone of it; aye, faith, and better: for sure it was getting ready two years back for the young mad Marquis ; but the workmen have been stopped since he went beside himself: and it would have been his cousins that was drowned, only for the vil. lainy of the world that banished the cratur to the wilds of Kerry, as Mr. O'Leary says, and no luck could follow them after that, great as they are now."

“I remember that O'Leary when he was out of his mind himself,” said the landlady, “and I a bit of a slip of a girl: he used to be wandering in the mountains here, and bothering the world with the MacArthies and the FITZADELMS, and looking for their ould castles, in lone places.”

“Och, then, he's brave and hearty now, Mrs. Gaffney," returned the lame

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