As We Wound Along Among The Hills My Guide Spoke Of Getting Another Man
To Accompany Us, Who Was Well Acquainted With The Way To Derryveigh, And
We Stopped At His Place Accordingly.
He came to the car to explain that
he was busy fanning up corn, or he would be only too glad to come.
In a
subdued whisper he told my guide of Capt. Dopping having been at his
house, with his bailiffs and body-guard of police - threatening the wife,
he said. He then told of the sacrifices he had made of one thing and
another to gather up one year's rent. He had to pay five shillings for
cutting turf on his own land, and one shilling for a notice served on
him. Poor little man, he had a face that was cut for mirthfulness, and
his woefulness was both touching and amusing. So we left him and went
our way.
Along the road, winding up and down among the hills, by sudden bogs and
rocky crags still more desolate and lonely looking, we came upon a
cultured spot, now and then, where a solitary man would be digging round
the edges of the rocks. Again we were among wild mountains heaving up
their round heads to the sky and looking down at us over one another's
shoulders. It brought to my mind the Atlantic billows during the last
stormy February. It is as if the awful rolling billows mounting to the
sky were turned into stone and fixed there, and the white foam changed
into dark heather.
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