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She never heard Nellie's name called repeatedly, or noted Mrs. Blake's haughty look as the young girl modestly received her prizes and blushed under the words of commendation uttered by the clergyman. Her thoughts were far away in the past, and she was living those two happy days over again at Dingle Cottage, when the world appeared so wondrously fair, and life full of bright laughing sunshine.
Half Munster was up in arms at once, and the new arrivals made haste to fortify Smerwick, in the neighbourhood of Dingle where they had landed. It was expected and declared that reinforcements from Spain would soon be forth-coming. Malby, the President of Connaught, acted with promptitude and energy, marching south with his own troops and some of the Burkes who were at feud with the Geraldines.
During my sojourn in the dingle, my food had been of the simplest and most unsatisfying description, by no means calculated to support the exertion which the labour I had been engaged upon required; it had consisted of coarse oaten cakes and hard cheese, and for beverage I had been indebted to a neighbouring pit, in which, in the heat of the day, I frequently saw, not golden or silver fish, but frogs and eftes swimming about.
She had come, and her messengers were everywhere, and everywhere busy. The birds bore her gladsome tidings to "Alley green, Dingle or bushy dell of each wild wood, And every bosky bourn from side to side " nor were the lately-trodden and seared grasses of the forests left unnoted; and the humbled flower of the wayside sprang up at her summons.
But, you fool,’ said he, pushing Hunter violently on the breast, ‘do you know whom you are going to tackle with?—this is the young chap that beat Blazing Bosville, only as late as yesterday, in Mumpers’ Dingle.
‘Ah!’ said I, ‘there falls the cedar tree—I mean the sallow; one of the tall trees on the outside of the dingle has been snapped short.’ ‘What a pity,’ said Belle, ‘that the fine old oak, which you saw the peasants cutting up, gave way the other night, when scarcely a breath of air was stirring; how much better to have fallen in a storm like this, the fiercest I remember.’
The postchaise assumes many forms in Ireland, but only once have I met the original coupé holding only two persons. It is a long drive to the ferry at the extremity of the peninsula between the bays of Kenmare and Dingle.
One morning in autumn I started in a local train for the first stage of my journey to Dublin, seeing the last of Macgillicuddy's Reeks, that were touched with snow in places, Dingle Bay and the islands beyond it. At a little station where I changed trains, I got into a carriage where there was a woman with her daughter, a girl of about twenty, who seemed uneasy and distressed.
The two women appeared to be in hot dispute in the dingle. ‘It was all owing to you, you limmer,’ said the vulgar woman to the other; ‘had you not interfered, the old man would soon have settled the boy.’
Since then no one had been daring enough to brave the terrors so carefully prepared for them by Milord Sir Venner and his minions, and the proud owner of the Dingle walked his woods in solitary state. Occasionally he would personally conduct some favoured guest thither and show him the wonders of the place. But this was not a frequent occurrence.
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