The moat which once cut the neck of land was now dry and overgrown; the
gateway remained, but it was sinking--the earth claimed it. There were
the ruins of a great house a little way inland, to which no doubt the
descendants of the chieftain retired on the decline of brigandage; and
the rough hunting life of its semi-chieftains was figured by the
gigantic stone fox on a pillar in the middle of the courtyard and the
great hounds on either side of the gateway.

Castle Carra must have been the strongest castle in the district of
Tyrawley, and it was built maybe by the Welsh who invaded Ireland in the
thirteenth century, perhaps by William Barrett himself, who built
certainl y the castle on the island opposite to Father Oliver's house.

William Fion (i.e., the Fair) Barrett landed somewhere on the west
coast, and no doubt came up through the great gaps between Slieve Cairn
and Slieve Louan--it was not likely that he la nded on the east coast;
he could hardly have marched his horde across Ireland--and Father Oliver
imagined the Welshmen standing on the very hill on which his house now
stood, and Fion telling his followers to build a castle on each island.
Patsy Murphy, w ho knew more about the history of the country than
anybody, thought that Castle Carra was of later date, and spoke of the
Stantons, a fierce tribe. Over yonder was the famous causeway, and the
gross tragedy that was enacted there he yesterday heard from the
wood-cutter, William's party of Welshmen were followed by other
Welshmen--the Cusacks, the Petits, and the Brownes; and these in time
fell out with the Barretts, and a great battle fought, the Battle of
Moyne, in 1281, in which William Barrett was killed. But in spite of
their defeat, the Barretts held the upper hand of the country for many a
long year, and the priest began to smile, thinking of the odd story the
old woodman had told him about the Barretts' steward, Sgnorach bhuid