'And the Gaelic League?' I asked him.
'The Gaelic League! Didn't they come down here with their organisers
and their secretaries, and their meetings and their speechifyings,
and start a branch of it, and teach a power of Irish for five weeks
and a half!' [a]
'What do we want here with their teaching Irish?' said the man in
the corner; 'haven't we Irish enough?'
'You have not,' said the old man; 'there's not a soul in Aran can
count up to nine hundred and ninety-nine without using an English
word but myself.'
It was getting late, and the rain had lessened for a moment, so I
groped my way back to the inn through the intense darkness of a late
autumn night.
[a] This was written, it should be remembered, some years ago.
Part IV
No two journeys to these islands are alike. This morning I sailed
with the steamer a little after five o'clock in a cold night air,
with the stars shining on the bay. A number of Claddagh fishermen
had been out all night fishing not far from the harbour, and without
thinking, or perhaps caring to think, of the steamer, they had put
out their nets in the channel where she was to pass.
