his conviction that President Cleveland would be re-elected.

Dr. Dillon was so earnest and so interesting that the time slipped by
very fast, until a casual glance at my watch showed me that we must make
great haste to catch the Dublin train.

We left therefore rather hurriedly, but before reaching the station we
saw the Dublin train go careering by, its white pennon of smoke and
vapour curling away along the valley.

I made the best of it, however, and letting Mr. Holmes depart by a train
which took him home, I found a smart jarvey with a car, and drove out to
Glenart Castle, the beautiful house of the Earl of Carysfort. This is a
very handsome modern house, built in a castellated style of a very good
whitish grey marble, with extensive and extremely well-kept terraced
gardens and conservatories.

It stands very well on one high bank of the river, a residence of the
Earl of Wicklow occupying the other bank. My jarvey called my attention
to the excellence of the roads, on which he said Lord Carysfort has
spent "a deal of money," as well as upon the gardens of the new Castle.
The head-gardener, an Englishman, told me he found the native labourers
very intelligent and willing both to learn and to work. Evidently here
is another centre of useful and civilising influences, not managed by an
"absentee."[23]

CHAPTER XIV.

DUBLIN, _Friday, March 9th._--At 7.40 this morning I took the train for
Athy to visit the Luggacurren estates of Lord Lansdowne. Mr. Lynch, a
resident magistrate here, some time ago kindly offered to show me over
the place, but I thought it as well to take my chance with the people of
Athy who are reported to have been very hot over the whole matter here,
and so wrote to Mr. Lynch that I would find him at the Lodge, which is
the headquarters of the property.

Athy is a neat, well-built little town, famous of old as a frontier
fortress of Kildare. An embattled tower, flanked by small square
turrets, guards a picturesque old bridge here over the Barrow, the
bridge being known in the country as "Crom-a-boo," from the old war-cry
of the Fitz-Geralds. It is a busy place now; and there was quite a
bustle at the very pretty little station. I asked a friendly old porter
which was the best hotel in the town. "The best? Ah! there's only one,
and it's not the best--but there are worse--and it's Kavanagh's." I
found it easily enough, and was ushered by a civil man, who emerged from
the shop which occup