the valleys, it is recorded on the rocks forever.




IX.

ALONG A MOUNTAIN ROAD--WHY THE RENT WAS RAISED--TURNING FARMS INTO
PASTURES--ST. COLOMBKILL--IRISH HOSPITALITY--A NOTABLE BALLAD.


The twenty-sixth of March rose sunny and cold, and I decided to hire a
horse and guide to go to Derryveigh, made memorable by Mr. John George
Adair. The road lay through wild mountain scenery. Patches of cultivated
fields lay on the slopes; hungry whin-covered hills rose all round them,
steep mountains rank upon rank behind; deep bog lands, full of
treacherous holes, lay along at the foot of the mountain here and there.
The scenery is wild beyond description, not a tree for miles in all the
landscape.

On some of the lower hills men were ploughing with wretched-looking
horses. Men were delving with spades where horses could not keep their
footing. The houses were wretched, some only partly roofed, some with
the roof altogether gone and a shed erected inside, but for the most
wretched of all the hovels rent is exacted.

Every bit of clearing was well and carefully labored. The high, broad
stone fences round hillside fields were all gathered from the soil.

At one place, I was told that the brother of the occupant had sent him,