road. Still
every now and then I sprang to my feet to look out for the castle which
he talked about. I had seen of late a good many castles on the coast of
the Mediterranean, Gibraltar, and Malta besides. I had some idea that
Rincurran Castle must be a very fine place.

"Arrah! Ben, and there it is as large as life. Sure it's a grand
mansion, barring it's a little out of repair!" shouted Pat, as, turning
an angle of the road, we came in sight of a tall, stone, dilapidated
building, with a courtyard in front, and two round pillars on either
side of the entrance-gate. The pigs had possession of the chief part of
the yard, which was well littered for their accommodation, leaving but a
narrow way up to the entrance-door.

I quickly scrambled down from the roof to assist Pat Brady in helping my
mother out of the chaise. Poor dear, overcome by her feelings, she was
leaning back, almost fainting, and scarcely able to move. At length the
door opened, and an old gentleman appeared in a scratch wig, with an
ominously red nose, and clothed in a costume which, in its condition,
greatly resembled his habitation. An old lady followed him, somewhat
more neatly dressed, who, on seeing my mother, hastened to the door to
receive her.

"What! Is this our daughter Mary?" exclaimed the old gentleman; "and
that young spalpeen, can that be her boy?" he added, looking at me in a
way which did not seem to argue much affection.

"Of course it is, Mat; and is it you, Mat, the head of the Dwyers, not
remembering your childer?" exclaimed the old lady, casting on him a
scornful glance. On this my grandfather gave my mother a paternal kiss,
a repetition of which I avoided by slipping round on the other side,
where Pat caught me, and presented me to the old lady. She then took me
in her arms and gave me an affectionate embrace. The tears dropped from
her eyes as she looked at my mother's pale countenance and widow's
dress.

"I don't ask what has happened, Mary," she said; "but though the one for
whom you forsook all is gone, you are welcome back to the old home,
child."

"Ay, that you are, Mary!" exclaimed my grandfather, warming up a little.
"To be sure, grand as it once was, it has been inclined for many a day
to be tumbling about our ears. But it will last my day, and there is
small chance of your brothers, Jim, or Pat, or Terence, ever wishing to
come and stop here, even if it's living they are when I am put under the
green t