CHAPTER I.
MY HOME.
The little village of Pilwiddle is one of the smallest and obscurest hamlets on the western coast of Ireland.

On a lofty crag, overlooking the hoarse Atlantic, stands "Denville's Shot Tower"-- a corruption by the peasantry of D'Enville's Chateau, so called from my great-grandfather, Phelim St.Kemy d'Enville, who assumed the name and title of a French heiress with whom he ran away.

To this fact my familiar knowledge and excellent pronunciation of the French language may be attributed, as well as many of the events which covered my after life.
The Denvilles were always passionately fond of field sports.

At the age of four, I was already the boldest rider and the best shot in the country.

When only eight, I won the St.Remy Cup at the Pilwiddle races,--riding my favorite bloodmare Hellfire.