On an Irish jaunting-car through Donegal and Connemara . weelrea, the Giant of theWest/ and Bengorm rising abruptly tothe height of two thousand six hundredand eighty-eight feet and two thousandthree hundred and three feet, while the ex-cessive stillness of the land-locked water,in which the shadows of the hills areclearly reflected, makes it difficult for one tobelieve that it is the actual ocean which hebeholds. That night, after a drive of twelve miles,we reached Cassons Hotel in Letterfrack,where we asked for a fire in the dining-room, as it was cold when we maid brought a burn
On an Irish jaunting-car through Donegal and Connemara . weelrea, the Giant of theWest/ and Bengorm rising abruptly tothe height of two thousand six hundredand eighty-eight feet and two thousandthree hundred and three feet, while the ex-cessive stillness of the land-locked water,in which the shadows of the hills areclearly reflected, makes it difficult for one tobelieve that it is the actual ocean which hebeholds. That night, after a drive of twelve miles,we reached Cassons Hotel in Letterfrack,where we asked for a fire in the dining-room, as it was cold when we maid brought a burning scuttle ofpeat, the smoke from which did not sub-side during the entire dinner, but it lookedcomfortable, to see each other through it,reminding us of cheerful fires and warmnooks at home; the comparison couldgo no farther, however. We asked themaid for a wine-list, in order that we mighttry to overcome the effect of the smoke,and she responded, with great naivete,that she had no wine-list, but would bringus a sample from every bin in the LEENANE TO RECESS In a few minutes, sure enough, she bouncedinto the room with her arms full of hot-ties, saying: Take yer chice, gin tie-men; theres nothin foiner in all Con-nemara! We took her at her word; shehad not deceived us—the bottle we selectedwas a good claret. Next morning the landlady furnishedus with the best animal we had on thetrip. She was a stout, bay mare, and whenher spirits had rallied after leaving ayoung colt of hers behind, she reeled offthe miles like a machine. Our object invisiting this part of the country was tosee Mitchell Henrys famous castle, Kyle-more, and the Twelve Pins, about whichwe had been hearing all our lives withoutever having had an opportunity to visitthem until now. Mr. Henry was a linen merchant, withhouses in Belfast and Manchester; hemade a fortune, purchased fourteen thou-sand acres of land in Connemara to givehimself a political foothold, and in con-sequence became M. P. for Galw
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidonirishjaunt, bookyear1902
