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McDougall, Margaret Moran Dixon, 1826-1898

"on Her Tour Through Ireland"

We had no fire in our house all last winter, and
it was a cold one, but what we got that way from Mr. Wynne." Mr. Wynne's
eloquent advocate rowed along the lake close in shore, for fear of any
doubt resting on my mind, and showed the stumps of the trees, cut very
close to the ground, a great many of them indeed, as a proof of Mr.
Wynne's thoughtful generosity.
We rowed along over the laughing waters among the pretty islands, and
finally pulled ashore on the Hazelwood demesne and landed. We walked
round a little bit, filling our eyes with beauty; feloniously abstracted
a few wild flowers and a fir cone or two, and reluctantly left
Hazelwood. Now this gentleman was not a perceptible whit the poorer for
all the cottage homes that were warmed by his bounty--yes, and hearts
were warmed, too, through the dreary winter. "Blessed is he that
considereth the poor." There is riches for you--oh master of Hazelwood!
The emigration from Sligo amounts to a stampede now. How many more would
leave the island that has no place for them, if they only had the means?
I missed that Drumahaire boat no less than three times--that is, she
was either gone before the time when she was said to go, or was lying
quietly at the wharf, having made up her mind not to stir that day.


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