Lord Kilgobbin. Charles James Lever

A LETTER-BAG

       CHAPTER LX

       A DEFEAT

       CHAPTER LXI

       A CHANGE OF FRONT

       CHAPTER LXII

       WITH A PASHA

       CHAPTER LXIII

       ATLEE ON HIS TRAVELS

       CHAPTER LXIV

       GREEK MEETS GREEK

       CHAPTER LXV

       IN TOWN

       CHAPTER LXVI

       ATLEE’S MESSAGE

       CHAPTER LXVII

       WALPOLE ALONE

       CHAPTER LXVIII

       THOUGHTS ON MARRIAGE

       CHAPTER LXIX

       AT KILGOBBIN CASTLE

       CHAPTER LXX

       ATLEE’S RETURN

       CHAPTER LXXI

       THE DRIVE

       CHAPTER LXXII

       THE SAUNTER IN TOWN

       CHAPTER LXXIII

       A DARKENED KOOM

       CHAPTER LXXIV

       AN ANGRY COLLOQUY

       CHAPTER LXXV

       MATHEW KEARNEY’S REFLECTIONS

       CHAPTER LXXVI

       VERY CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION

       CHAPTER LXXVII

       TWO YOUNG LADIES ON MATRIMONY

       CHAPTER LXXVIII

       A MISERABLE MORNING

       CHAPTER LXXIX

       PLEASANT CONGRATULATIONS

       CHAPTER LXXX

       A NEW ARRIVAL

       CHAPTER LXXXI

       AN UNLOOKED-FOR CORRESPONDENT

       CHAPTER LXXXII

       THE BREAKFAST-ROOM

       CHAPTER LXXXIII

       THE GARDEN BY MOONLIGHT

       CHAPTER LXXXIV

       NEXT MORNING

       CHAPTER LXXXV

       THE END

CHAPTER I

       Table of Contents

KILGOBBIN CASTLE

       Table of Contents

      Some one has said that almost all that Ireland possesses of picturesque beauty is to be found on, or in the immediate neighbourhood of, the seaboard; and if we except some brief patches of river scenery on the Nore and the Blackwater, and a part of Lough Erne, the assertion is not devoid of truth. The dreary expanse called the Bog of Allen, which occupies a tableland in the centre of the island, stretches away for miles—flat, sad-coloured, and monotonous, fissured in every direction by channels of dark-tinted water, in which the very fish take the same sad colour. This tract is almost