I Have Felt As If, Were I To
Turn My Head As I Used Naughtily To Do When A Child,
I should see the
dear Miss Borg, sitting on the foot-board - a raised seat running along
the front wall
Of the church when it had an earthen floor - her sweet
face tinted with autumn red, bearing sweetly and graciously the burden
of consecrated years. What a spot of memories is the "God's Acre" on the
hill to me, surrounded by solemn firs, shaded by spreading sycamores.
Rose up in the morning and left Grace Hill behind me once more. Passed
into Derry and found that veteran maiden lady quite well, with a small
stir on her streets caused by the Land League meeting. Heard no one
speak of it at all, no more than if it had not been, while I waited some
hours for the Omagh train.
This train, like all third-class trains, which I have yet seen,
including one second-class train, by which I travelled a little way, was
extremely filthy. One would think a little paint or even soap and water
were contraband of war as far as these cars are concerned. After
steaming a short distance the solitary lamp went out for want of oil.
When the cars were stopped at the next station we were told to go into
another compartment that had a lamp - they never seemed to think for a
moment of replenishing with oil the lamp in the compartment where we
were.
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