The sky was blue, although the wind was cold, and it was blowing quite a
gale. We had not left the town far behind when the storm recommenced in
all its fury. The hail beat in our faces until we were obliged to cover
up our heads. Finally the pony refused to go a step farther, but turned
his obstinate shoulder to the storm and stood there, where there was no
shelter of any kind, and there he stood till the storm moderated a
little, only to recommence again. Up one hill, down another, along a
bleak road through a bog, past the waters of Lough Fern, up more hills,
round other hills, across other bleak bogs, the little town of
Kilmacrennan, up other hills, the storm meanwhile raging in all its fury
until we drew up on the lee side of a little mountain chapel.
The clergyman, who happened to be there, received us most courteously,
and conducted us to his house. We were offered refreshments, and treated
with the greatest kindness. Owing to this priest's courtesy and kindness
I was provided with a room in the house of one of his parishioners, a
mountain side farmer.
I parted with my friends with great regret. They returned to Ramelton
through the storm, which increased in fury every moment.
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