They Are
Plentiful In Upper Gartan Lake, And Come Along The Stream To The
Dividing Line, Where The Stream Is Spanned By A Little Rustic Bridge;
Here They Meet An Invisible Barrier, Which They Cannot Pass.
I told my
guide in return the story of the Well of St. Keyne, but he thought it
unlikely.
So there is a limit to belief.
Since Mr. Adair depopulated Derryveigh, and gave it over to silence, the
roads have been neglected, and have become rather difficult for a car.
The relief works in famine time have been mainly road-making, and there
are smooth hard roads through the hills in all directions, so the people
complain of roads that would not be counted so very bad in the Canadian
backwoods. However, the difficulty being of a rocky nature, we left the
car at the house of a dumb man, the only one of the inhabitants spared
by Adair. He and his sister, also dumb, lived together on the mountain
solitudes. She is dead, and a relative, the daughter of one of the
evicted people, has come to keep house for him. He made us very welcome,
seeing to it that the horse was put up and fed with sheaf oats. I and my
guides, for we were now joined by the man who had had the oats to fan -
he had got his brother to take his place and came a short cut across the
hills to meet us - so we all three set out to walk over Derryveigh.
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