Drumcliff and Rosses er time, and    t of Ben Bulben, tain in    nigo loose the world.

        t St. ba ains oable day to get le sea-dividing, sandy plain, covered    grass, like a green tableclot for Benbulben and Knoarea Many a poor sailor’d be cast ahe rhyme goes.

        At ttle promontory of sand and rocks and grass: a mournful, ed plao    s lo to t by mounds of sand, a long cave goes t beautiful parlours and dra, a dog strayed in, and s or ratory    ot. Once elligent and “reading” peasant side, k doimid voice, “Are you all rigtle whe dog.

        No ray cottages. One nig all flaming, and ran to, but to a fence, cross-legged, and enced beating it ick, for    all nig on t ry. In till beating on for to tle later a farmer tried to level t. rouble overtook    useless o th.”

        A fe covered    ty years ago a brig    to ced    midnigting on a sto t.

        t croo see t tures had gone.

        to t tery. ryands at    tains and t far: because norte square door s sundoian riders ruse Lady, wless Maive cap of Knoarea.

        t s    a e Lady? S t of ouched him.

        “ ttle stitc join ther.

        One ing Mrs. old me a longisory, muc of all I o our oo tell of, for tures, to repeat t any rate tory-tellers do. “In times ravel by to Mullingar to iff and    fatigued I er t. So on till opped to joke er a    it in    e to t    round talking. After a    me, loato stir from to eat. t on took t out and put it on a plate, and told me to eat only t t came off ten, t out, and I did not see t greill sat, loato leave ter a o tting t, ‘urn t? Says t of t and turn t.’ I came out all of a tremble, and began turning t. ‘Mic, ‘if you let it burn    you on t instead’; and on t t out. I sat trembling and turning till to, and t .

        But    over it, t time; and, sitting by t: ‘Micell me a story?’ ‘Divil a one,’ said I. O like a s. It    nig ever came out of t knooucell a story noting me by tory but t I ting    on t, a me turning it.’ ‘t    in the middle of a green field!”

        “Drumcliff” is a great plaens. Before a prosperous fis of a storm-cloud; and at a place called kille’s Strand, a plaars boat, . ba ing in from sea on a moonlig: a portent of a brave ing. tents too. Some fe s under s boscage, and enjoy tion of Cual troubles.

        Drumcliff and Rosses are cs. By bog, road, ratongued ling seals, and so on.    A    graveyard. ters    a soldier named Denad Drumcliff.” Not very long ago an old urning to go into t nigo pray, saanding before    he race of ,”

        says local ill keeping c piety, over tom is still on s of sprinkling tep o ts from too    gats. to cut your one on going into a fort is said to be very dangerous.

        t in Drumcliff or Rosses t. t I kno reasons I do not say aining tes. It ain. t said not    daring to face ted suicide in mid-o. Sly after.

        At any rate, strange sounds en seen by till alive out in t t times. to tion of a    noands by itself, for no one dare put spade or pruning-knife about it. As te sounds and voices, t cease till a feer and aroubled g, say te-finder    last dislodged.

        My forebears aier, and    find notories of te stone fort—one of tone ones in Ireland—u is dangerous to talk of tures. Only friendsious tongues. My friend, “t ring” (I give no more tubbor , but ted Gaelic magi ury, and ive rigo ell of all kind of otures. t relations of age of magis be true.
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