She Has Divided Between
Her And Her Only Friend In The Dark Days.
This Scotch hag found her a
kind-hearted woman, and has made her into an ogre.
Some of this
communication, the hardest of it, I shall reserve, also several
confirmatory anecdotes given me at Westport.
In mercy to the readers, I will only say that Miss Gardner has intense
courage and an intellect of masculine strength, and resembles Queen
Elizabeth in more ways than one. It is a great pity that she has not
Queen Bess's popularity or her care for her people.
Westport, when I have time to look at it, is a very pretty town. Its
buildings, its hotels and the warehouses on the quay look as if it once
had an extensive and flourishing trade, or was prepared for and
expecting it. There was, I am told, once a flourishing linen trade here,
but it has gone to decay. The town is in a little hollow, with pleasant
tree-crowned green hills rising all round it; at one side is the demesne
of the Marquis of Sligo, which is open to the public. These grounds
extend for miles, and are as beautiful as gorgeous trees, green grass,
dark woods, waters that leap and flash, spanned by rustic bridges, can
make them. There are winding walks leading through the green fields,
under trees, into woods, up hill and down, into shady glens, where you
might wander for miles and lose yourself in green-wood solitudes.
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