The love feast with its tea and buns so noiselessly served, brought back
many a pleasant memory. Even the minister's face, son of parents much
beloved, had a special power of recalling other days. I felt as if in a
dream when I sat in Grace Hill church among the people, in the place to
which I have so often desired to return. I have felt as if, were I to
turn my head as I used naughtily to do when a child, I should see the
dear Miss Borg, sitting on the foot-board--a raised seat running along
the front wall of the church when it had an earthen floor--her sweet
face tinted with autumn red, bearing sweetly and graciously the burden
of consecrated years. What a spot of memories is the "God's Acre" on the
hill to me, surrounded by solemn firs, shaded by spreading sycamores.
Rose up in the morning and left Grace Hill behind me once more. Passed
into Derry and found that veteran maiden lady quite well, with a small
stir on her streets caused by the Land League meeting. Heard no one
speak of it at all, no more than if it had not been, while I waited some
hours for the Omagh train.
This train, like all third-class trains, which I have yet seen,
including one second-class train, by which I travelled a little way, was
extremely filthy.
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