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In 20 Volumes Arranged Chronologically With an Introduction in the First Volume by Mr. Weyman
In clear type and handy size To range with Henry Seton Merriman's Novels
Fcap. 8vo, Gilt Top, in Cloth and Leather
Vol. 1. The House of the Wolf. " 2. The New Rector. " 3. The Story of Francis Cludde. " 4. A Gentleman of France. " 5. The Man in Black. " 6. Under the Red Robe. " 7. My Lady Rotha. " 8. Memoirs of a Minister of France. " 9. The Red Cockade. " 10. Shrewsbury. Vol. 11. The Castle Inn. " 12. Sophia. " 13. Count Hannibal. " 14. In Kings' Byways. " 15. The Long Night. " 16. The Abbess of Vlaye. " 17. Starvecrow Farm. " 18. Chippinge. " 19. Laid up in Lavender. " 20. The Wild Geese.
LONDON: SMITH, ELDER & CO. and LONGMANS GREEN & CO.
LONDON: SMITH, ELDER & CO. (_For the United Kingdom_) IN CONJUNCTION WITH CASSELL AND CO., LTD.; HODDER AND STOUGHTON; METHUEN AND CO., WARD, LOCK AND CO., AND LONGMANS GREEN & CO. (_For the British Possessions and Foreign Countries_) 1911
1908 July 1st Edition " Aug. 2nd Impression " Oct. 3rd Impression 1910 July 4th Impression " Nov. 5th Impression 1911 Mar. 6d. Edition " Oct. 6th (Author's Complete Edition)
Midway in that period of Ireland's history during which, according to historians, the distressful country had none--to be more precise, on a spring morning early in the eighteenth century, and the reign of George the First, a sloop of about seventy tons burthen was beating up Dingle Bay, in the teeth of a stiff easterly breeze. The sun was two hours high, and the grey expanse of the bay was flecked with white horses hurrying seaward in haste to leap upon the Blasquets, or to disport themselves in the field of ocean. From the heaving deck of the vessel the mountains that shall not be removed were visible--on the northerly tack Brandon, on the southerly Carntual; the former sunlit, with patches of moss gleaming like emeralds on its breast, the latter dark and melancholy, clothed in the midst of tradition and fancy that in those days garbed so much of Ireland's bog and hill.
The sloop had missed the tide, and, close hauled to the wind, rode deep in the ebb, making little way with each tack. The breeze hummed through the rigging. The man at the helm humped a shoulder to the sting of the spray, and the rest of the crew, seven or eight in number--tarry, pigtailed, outlandish sailor men--crouched under the windward rail. The skipper sat with a companion on a coil of rope on the dry side of the skylight, and at the moment at which our story opens was oblivious alike of the weather and his difficulties. He sat with his eyes fixed on his neighbour, and in those eyes a wondering, fatuous admiration. So might a mortal look if some strange hap brought him face to face with a centaur.