He was
not the least afraid of cattle, or of other things in daylight and
the open air; of course at night in dark passages infested with
bears and little hunchbacks ... Well, it was obviously different.
And yet that woman who was afraid of "cows" could walk without a
tremor, or a little shiver down the spine, past the very "Gates of
Hell," where they roared and blazed in the dark passage.
Our English home had brightly-lit passages, and was consequently
practically free from bears and robbers. Still, we all preferred
the Ulster home in spite of its obvious perils. Here were a chain
of lakes, wide, silvery expanses of gleaming water reflecting the
woods and hills. Here were great tracts of woodlands where
countless little burns chattered and tinkled in their rocky beds
as they hurried down to the lakes, laughing as they tumbled in
miniature cascades over rocky ledges into swirling pools, in their
mad haste to reach the placid waters below. Here were purple
heather-clad hills, with their bigger brethren rising mistily blue
in the distance, and great wine-coloured tracts of bog (we called
them "flows") interspersed with glistening bands of water, where
the turf had been cut which hung over the village in a thin haze
of fragrant blue smoke.
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