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McDougall, Margaret Moran Dixon, 1826-1898

"on Her Tour Through Ireland"

Of course I went to
get a peep at it, because he is a lord whom all men praise. "His
tenants," said one, "not only do not blame him but they glory in him.
Why should they join the Land League? They get all it promises without
doing so." As we drove along I heard his justice, his sense of right,
his praise, in short, repeated in every way possible. I have noticed
about this lord that to mention his name to any one who knows him is
quite enough to set them off in praise of him. As he is not an immensely
wealthy peer, but has been obliged to part with some of his property, it
is the more glorious the enthusiastic good name he has won for himself.
We drove across a long stretch of gravel drive through scenery like
fairyland. A fair sheet of water lay below the house, bordered by trees
that seemed conscious of their owner's renown by the way they tossed
their heads upward and spread their branches downward, as saying, "Look
at us: everything here bears examination and demands admiration." Swans
ruffled their snowy plumage and sailed with stately bendings of their
white necks across the lake. Wild geese with the lameness of perfect
confidence grouped themselves on the shore or played in the water.


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