Produced by David Widger _CONFESSIONS OF_ CON CREGAN _An Irish Gil Blas_ By Charles Lever With Illustrations by Phiz. Boston: Little, Brown, And Company. 1913 CONTENTS PREFACE. CHAPTER I.   A PEEP AT MY FATHER CHAPTER II.   ANOTHER PEEP AT MY FATHER CHAPTER III.   A FIRST STEP ON LIFE'S LADDER CHAPTER IV.   HOW I ENTERED COLLEGE, AND HOW I LEFT IT CHAPTER V.   A PEEP AT "HIGH AND LOW COMPANY" CHAPTER VI.   VIEWS OF LIFE CHAPTER VII.   A BOLD STROKE FOR AN OPENING IN THE WORLD CHAPTER VIII.   A QUIET CHOP AT 'KILLEEN'S' CHAPTER IX.   SIR DUDLEY BROUGHTON CHAPTER X.   THE VOYAGE OUT CHAPTER XI.   MEANS AND MEDITATIONS CHAPTER XII.   A GLIMPSE OF ANOTHER OPENING IN LIFE CHAPTER XIII.   QUEBEC CHAPTER XIV.   FELL IN AND OUT WITH THE WIDOW DAVIS CHAPTER XV.   AN EMIGRANTS FIRST STEP ON SHORE CHAPTER XVI.   A NIGHT IN THE LOWER TOWN CHAPTER XVII.   MY LUCUBRATIONS ON THE ST. LAWRENCE CHAPTER XVIII.   THE ORDINARY OF ALL NATIONS CHAPTER XIX.   ON BOARD THE 'CHRISTOBAL' CHAPTER XX.   THE LOG-HUT AT BRAZOS CHAPTER XXI.   A NIGHT IN THE FOREST OF TEXAS CHAPTER XXII.   THE LAZARETTO OF BEXAR CHAPTER XXIII.   THE PLACER CHAPTER XXIV.   THE FATE OF A GAMBUSINO CHAPTER XXV.   LA SEÑHORA CHAPTER XXVI.   THE DISCOVERY CHAPTER XXVII.   GUAJUAQUALLA CHAPTER XXVIII.   THE VOYAGE OF THE 'ACADIE' CHAPTER XXIX.   THE CARCEL MORENA AT MALAGA CHAPTER XXX.   CONSOLATIONS OF DIPLOMACY CHAPTER XXXI.   A NEW WALK IN PROGRESSIVE LIFE CHAPTER XXXII.   MOI ET MON PRINCE CHAPTER XXXIII.     A SOIRÉE IN THE GREAT WORLD CHAPTER XXXIV.   CONCLUSION PREFACE. An eminent apothecary of my acquaintance once told me that at each increase to his family, he added ten per cent to the price of his drugs, and as his quiver was full of daughters, Blackdraught, when I knew him, was a more costly cordial than Curaçoa. To apply this to my own case, I may mention that I had a daughter born to me about the time this story dates from, and not having at my command the same resource as my friend the chemist, I adopted the alternative of writing another story, to be published contemporaneously with that now appearing,--"The Daltons;" and not to incur the reproach so natural in criticism--of over-writing myself--I took care that the work should come out without a name. I am not sure that I made any attempt to disguise my style; I was conscious of scores of blemishes--I decline to call them mannerisms--that would betray me: but I believe I trusted most of all to the fact that I was making my monthly appearance to the world in another story, and with another publisher, and I had my hope that my small duplicity would thus escape undetected. I was aware that there was a certain amount of peril in running an opposition coach on the line I had made in some degree my own; not to say that it might be questionable policy to glut the public with a kind of writing more remarkable for peculiarity than perfection.