The Rocks Rise Among The Fields With The Same
Startling Abruptness As They Do Along The Shore, Looking Still More Like
Ruins Of Old Castles.
Round these rocks and among them, in every nook
and cranny where there is a spadeful of earth, is delved carefully by
these mountain husbandmen.
As I looked at the rocks and crags, and the workers among them, I could
hardly help thinking they dearly earned all that grew upon them,
although there would be no half-yearly rent hanging over them. In one
little clearing some children were scattering manure. One, a sturdy
little maiden, but a mere baby of about seven years of age, had a fork
cut down to suit her size, and was handling it with infantile vigor,
laying about her with great vim. It was such a comical sight that we
stopped the car to watch her. As soon as she saw she was watched, she
dropped the fork and scampered off to hide. A pretty little child, hardy
and healthy and nimble as a goat.
Of course on this coast there are tall, white light houses, two of them
keeping guard over the rocks. Here and there are coast guard stations,
white and barrack-like, only holding blue jackets instead of red or
green.
The tenants along here praised their landlords. One of them, the Marquis
of Donegal, was spoken of as a merciful lord all through the hard years.
He had forgiven them rent which they could not pay, and lowered the rent
when they did pay, returning them some of the money, and the poor people
spoke of him with warm gratitude.
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