It was a woman; she did not speak any
more, but looked, and that look drew out my fast collapsing purse. I
walked slowly into the house, determined to escape from the hills while
I had the means left of escaping.
XI.
THE JAUNTING CAR - SCENERY IN DONEGAL - MOUNTAIN PASTURES - A VISIT TO
GLENVEIGH CASTLE.
I have returned to pleasant Ramelton, and will write my visit to
Glenveigh Castle from here. This town will always be a place of
remembrance to me on account of the Christian kindness, sympathy,
encouragement and counsel which I have received in it.
It was my great good fortune to get an introduction to Mr. and Miss
McConnell, a brother and sister, who are merchants in this place. They
are of the stock of the Covenanters, a people who have left the stamp of
their individuality on the piety of the North of Ireland. Sufferers
themselves from Lord Leitrim's tyranny and greed, they sympathize with
other sufferers, and sympathize with me in my work to a greater extent
than any others since I left home. I can say with feeling, I was a
stranger and they took me in.
I have been driven in many directions sight-seeing in their cosy little
pony carriage. It is a nice little two-wheeled affair. I believe the
orthodox name of it is a croydon. It carries four, who sit back to back,
while the back seat turns up when not wanted. It was in quite a
different trap that I rode in on my visit to Glenveigh. During my
journey there we talked, my guide and I, of what constitutes a good
landlord. It was a negative sort of goodness which he expected from the
good landlord - "that he would not harry the tenants with vexatious
office rules; that he would let them alone on their places so long as
they paid their rent; that he would not raise the rent so that all grown
on the land would be insufficient to pay it." Since the Land League
agitation some landlords have granted a reduction of rents, and some
have even given a bag of potatoes for seed as a gift to the poorer
tenants.
The road to the new castle leads through scenery of grand mountain
solitudes, treeless, houseless and silent. Our road wound in a
serpentine fashion among the mountains. The drains that regularly score
the foggy mountain sides produce a queer effect on the landscape.
As we wound along the serpentine road nearing the castle, the hills
seemed to get wilder and more solemn. No trace of human habitations, no
sound of human life, treeless, bare, silent mountains, wastes of black
bog, rocks rising up till their solemn heads brushed the sky, - Irish
giants in ragged cloaks of heather.
