This year I have got to know a wonderfully humorous girl, who has
been spinning in the kitchen for the last few days with the old
woman's spinning-wheel. The morning she began I heard her exquisite
intonation almost before I awoke, brooding and cooing over every
syllable she uttered.
I have heard something similar in the voices of German and Polish
women, but I do not think men - at least European men - who are always
further than women from the simple, animal emotions, or any speakers
who use languages with weak gutturals, like French or English, can
produce this inarticulate chant in their ordinary talk.
She plays continual tricks with her Gaelic in the way girls are fond
of, piling up diminutives and repeating adjectives with a humorous
scorn of syntax. While she is here the talk never stops in the
kitchen. To-day she has been asking me many questions about Germany,
for it seems one of her sisters married a German husband in America
some years ago, who kept her in great comfort, with a fine 'capull
glas' ('grey horse') to ride on, and this girl has decided to escape
in the same way from the drudgery of the island.
