"Bad luck to ye, ye divil"-- to the hen--"God forgive me for swearing.

Will nothin' contint ye but the master's own room ?" While he dived within the room I got out through the little gate and back into the avenue, where the briars and undergrowth had made hedges behind which one could easily find cover.
Once in safety I stopped to gaze back at the long front of Brosna, looking so sad.

It is one of the white stuccoed houses so common in Ireland in the eighteenth century, although much finer and more magnificent than most.

At the roof there was a balustrading, and below were long lines of windows of a uniform oblong shape, each with an architrave above it.

The rains of our moist climate had wept upon it and there were long green streaks extending down the walls.