Truly, Fishing
Is A Laborious Business, But Still, How Pleasant To See The Busy Fisher
Folk, And To Know That Work Brings Meat.
I remembered the silent waters
on long stretches of the western shores.
I remembered the rejoicing at
Dromore west, over the Canadian given boats. God bless, and prosper, and
multiply the fisher folk. In from the sea, through the pleasant land, we
drove a little farther into the solemn woods that surround Dunany
Castle. As we neared the castle the woods became broken into a lawn and
pleasure ground, and at a sudden turn we found ourselves before the
castle. I am not yet tired of looking at castles, whether in ruins, as
relics of the past, or inhabited as the "stately houses where the
wealthy people dwell."
Dunany, with its court-yard, where wines, climbing roses and Virginia
creepers grew luxuriantly over the battlemented walls, reminded me of
descriptions I had read of Moorish houses in sunny Spain. Every house
has a history, and it is no wonder if these great houses tell a story of
other times and other scenes that has a powerful influence on the minds
of the descendants of those who founded these houses and carved out
these fortunes. There were little children playing before the castle,
happy and free, that ran to meet their uncle.
We were received by Sir Thomas Butler, Sir Allan's son-in-law, whom I
had met with before on the evening of my arrival at Castle Bellingham.
My errand to Dunany Castle was, strictly speaking, to gather the
opinions of these gentlemen on the land question, but the quaint,
foreign look of the castle, and the historic names of Butler and
Bellingham, sent my mind off into the past, to the battle of the Boyne,
and into the dimness beyond, when the war cry of "A Butler" was a
rallying cry that had power in the green vales of Erin.
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