hostler," and has a fine school in the preceptory of Monaster-ni-oriel. Many thanks to friar Dennis O'Sulivan, the superior; for it was he who took him up, and preached the devil out of him (for they say he was possessed), and set him down there, snug and aisy, in the friary; and allows him to let his own apartment to bathers that come to the salt wather, when himself's not in it: and, troth, you wouldn't think, the day, he had put more than fifty years over his head, that's Mr. O'Leary, though he's sixty right out; for its thirty-four years since his wife got the nursing at Court Fitzadelm, and Terence was twenty-six good then, and a brave lump of a poor scholar, when he missed his vocation, and married Soosheen O'Calaghan.

* Vocation-to the priesthood. To miss vocation, always means to fall in love.

"No, troth! but grief for the loss of his foster child; and to this day, when he isn't going on with his Shanaos of the Macarthies More, its of him he bes talking, in spite of the Crawleys." The mendicant hostler now raised the sieve of oats on his head, and hobbled back to the stables.

poor

"Och! but it's a pity of him, the cratur," said Mrs. Gaffney, whose evident love of gossipry was much gratified by the conversation which had accidentally arisen-" and lame as he is now, a Baccah, begging his bit through the country, and betimes doing a turn here for us: why, then, he has seen great days formerly, and was whipper-in to Lord Fitzadelm, that's the black baron, and often called in to sing "the hunt of Kilruddery" for my lord and the quality in the great parlour after dinner; and at last lent him even his trifle of wages, and sold his bit of a place to raise money for him, and got

his lameness by being thrown off in his service; and there you are now, Fineen Mac Crehan, without a rag to kiver you, or a shed to lay your head under, or a bit of a bed to die on, or as much as would buy a pipe to wake you with, this night. Ah! then, nothing ever thriv with them Fitzadelms: they had the black drop in them, for all they were the portliest men in the country (though I never see them, barring in pictures), and to this day its a saying in the country, comely and wicked like a Fitzadelm.' Well, there's the last stick and stone of the court to be sold next week. We had orders to stick up the bill, Sirs, here, from Mr. Crawley's land-baily of Dunore, who passed through the mountains yesterday."

"Then the devil set his foot after him wherever he goes, and that he may never come back, I pray Christ," said the driver, as he drew his cotamore round him, and went forth to look after the equipage.

To this pious adjuration a very general "amen" was returned; while both the travellers, as if moved by the same impulse of curiosity, advanced to read the advertisement hung over the chimney, by the rush-light which was fastened in a cleft stick near it. This paper indicated that the old castle and mansion of Court Fitzadelm, beautifully situate in a valley, watered by the Avon Fienne, and sheltered by the Galties and Ballyhowry mountains, were to be put up for sale on a certain day, or might be purchased by private contract. The materials were strongly recommended to any gentleman who was building; and a few acres of meadow land, with the liberties of a certain portion of the salmon fishery on the Avon-Fienne, were to be sold or leased. References were to be made to Darby Crawley, Esq. Newtown, Mount Crawley-Dunore, or at his house, Merrion Square, Dublin.

"I should like to see this Court Fitzadelm," said the Commodore, address

2

ing Mr. De Vere in Spanish.-"Per haps I may be induced to purchase it, The fishery of a fine river is a strong inducement, and my future destiny I hope is to reside in this country."

"I should like to see it also, and will accompany you. By its vicinity to the Ballyhowry mountains, it can't be far from Buttevant,” replied De Vere.

On enquiries made from the landlady, and partly answered by the ill-looking man at the three-legged table, they found that Court Fitzadelm lay due south of the Ballyhowry mountains. "Then," said the Commodore," I can take it en chemin faisant to the peninsula of Dunore."

"Dunore!" repeated the younger traveller: "I thought you were proceeding to Kerry?”

"Not immediately," was the careless reply; and the next moment the Commodore, observing that he would endeavour to expedite their journey, left