He nodded.
"I did--just his own dear self.

But he was sitting alone on the edge of some wharf gazing down into the water, and not a look could I get out of him till I woke." The following morning Dennis was still sound asleep when I rose and went on deck.

The coast of Ireland was just coming into sight through the haze when he joined me, but before pointing it out to him, I felt curious to know whether he had dreamed a third time of old Barney.
"Not I," said he; "all I dreamed of was a big rock standing up out of the sea, and two children sitting on it had hold of each other's hands." "Children you know ?" "Oh dear, no! Just a little barefoot brother and sister." He seemed to wish to drop the subject, and at this moment a gleam of sunshine lit up the distant coast-line with such ethereal tints, that I did not wonder to see him spring upon the bulwarks and, catching a ratlin with one hand, wave his cap above his head with the other, crying, "GOD bless the Emerald Isle!" We reached Liverpool about four o'clock in the afternoon, and as we drew up alongside of the old wharf, my first thought was to look for Biddy Macartney.

Alister had to remain on board for a time, but Dennis came willingly with me in search of the old woman and her coffee-barrow.

At last we betook ourselves to the dock-gatekeeper, to make inquiries, and from him we heard a sad story.