e, in answer to the question
of, 'Who is at the castle?' replied, 'Mrs. Raffarty will be in it afore
night; but she's on the road still. There's none but old Nick in it yet;
and he's more of a NEGER than ever; for think, that he would not pay me
a farthing for the carriage of his SHISTER'S boxes and bandboxes down.
If you're going to have any dealings with him, God grant ye a safe
deliverance!'

'Amen!' said the widow, and her son and daughter.

Lord Colambre's attention was now engaged by the view of the castle and
park of Clonbrony. He had not seen it since he was six years old. Some
faint reminiscence from his childhood made him feel or fancy that he
knew the place. It was a fine castle, spacious park; but all about it,
from the broken piers at the great entrance, to the messy gravel and
loose steps at the hall-door, had an air of desertion and melancholy.
Walks overgrown, shrubberies wild, plantations run up into bare poles;
fine trees cut down, and lying on the gravel in lots to be sold. A hill
that had been covered with an oak wood, in which, in his childhood,
our hero used to play, and which he called the black forest, was gone;
nothing to be seen but the white stumps of the trees, for it had been
freshly cut down, to make up the last remittances.--'And how it went,
when sold!--but no matter,' said Finnucan; 'it's all alike.--It's the
back way into the yard, I'll take you, I suppose.'

And such a yard! 'But it's no matter,' repeated Lord Colambre to
himself; 'it's all alike.'

In the kitchen a great dinner was dressing for Mr. Garraghty's friends,
who were to make merry with him when the business of the day was over.

'Where's the keys of the cellar, till I get out the claret for after
dinner,' says one; 'and the wine for the cook--sure there's venison,'
cries another.--'Venison!--That's the way my lord's deer goes,' says a
third, laughing.--'ay, sure! and very proper, when he's not here to eat
'em.'--'Keep your nose out of the kitchen, young man, if you PLASE,'
said the agent's cook, shutting the door in Lord Colambre's face.
'There's the way to the office, if you've money to pay, up the back
stairs.'

'No; up the grand staircase they must--Mr. Garraghty ordered,' said the
footman; 'because the office is damp for him, and it's not there he'll
see anybody to-day; but in my lady's dressing-room.'

So up the grand staircase they went, and through the magnificent
apartments, hung with pictures of great value