moving sea, and then further off I could see many distant mountains,
or look out across the shadowy outline of Inishtooskert to the
Tearaught rock. While I was sitting on the little mound which marks
the summit of the island--a mound stripped and riddled by rabbits--
a heavy bank of fog began to work up from the south, behind
Valentia, on the other jaw of Dingle Bay. As soon as I saw it I
hurried down from the pinnacle where I was, so that I might get away
from the more dangerous locality before the clouds overtook me. In
spite of my haste I had not gone half a mile when an edge of fog
whisked and circled round me, and in a moment I could see nothing
but a grey shroud of mist and a few yards of steep, slippery grass.
Everything was distorted and magnified to an extraordinary degree;
but I could hear the moan of the sea under me, and I knew my
direction, so I worked along towards the village without trouble. In
some places the island, on this southern side, is bitten into by
sharp, narrow coves, and when the fog opened a little I could see
across them, where gulls and choughs were picking about on the
grass, looking as big as Kerry cattle or black mountain sheep.
Before I reached the house the cloud had turned to a sharp shower of
rain, and as I went in the water was dripping from my hat. 'Oh!
dear me,' said the little hostess, when she saw me, 'Ta tu an-rhluc
anois' ('You are very wet now '). She was alone in the house,
breathing audibly with a sort of simple self-importance, as she
washed her jugs and teacups. While I was drinking my tea a little
later, some woman came in with three or four little girls--the most
beautiful children I have ever seen--who live in one of the nearest
cottages. They tried to get the little girls to dance a reel
together, but the smallest of them went and hid her head in the
skirts of the little hostess. In the end two of the little girls
danced with two of those who were grown up, to the lilting of one of