The party left Liverpool on 20th August, and Borrow, when in sight of the Isle of Man, noticed a lofty ridge of mountains rising to the clouds:
Entered into conversation with two of the crew—Manx sailors—about the Manx language; one, a very tall man, said he knew only a very little of it as he was born on the coast, but that his companion, who came from the interior, knew it well; said it was a mere gibberish. This I denied, and said it was an ancient language, and that it was like the Irish; his companion, a shorter man, in shirt sleeves, with a sharp, eager countenance, now opened his mouth and said I was right, and said that I was the only gentleman whom he had ever heard ask questions about the Manx language. I spoke several Irish words which they understood.
When he had landed he continued his investigations, asking every peasant he met the Manx for this or that English word:
'Are you Manx?' said I. 'Yes,' he replied, 'I am Manx.' 'And what do you call a river in Manx?' 'A river,' he replied. 'Can you speak Manx?' I demanded. 'Yes,' he replied, 'I speak Manx.' 'And you call a river a river?' 'Yes,' said he, 'I do.' 'You don't call it owen?' said I. 'I do not,' said he. I passed on, and on the other side of the bridge went for some time along an avenue of trees, passing by a stone water-mill, till I came to a public-house on the left hand. Seeing a woman looking out of the window, I asked her to what place the road led. 'To Castletown,' she replied. 'And what do you call the river in Manx?' said I. 'We call it an owen,' said she. 'So I thought,' I replied, and after a little further discourse returned, as the night was now coming fast on.
One man whom Borrow asked if there were any poets in Man replied that he did not believe there were, that the last Manx poet had died some time ago at Kirk Conoshine, and this man had translated Parnell's Hermit beautifully, and the translation had been printed. He inquired about the Runic Stones, which he continually transcribed. Under date Thursday, 30th August, we find the following:
This day year I ascended Snowdon, and this morning, which is very fine, I propose to start on an expedition to Castletown and to return by Peel.
Very gladly would I follow Borrow more in detail through this interesting holiday by means of his diary,[183] but it would make my book too long. As he had his wife and daughter with him there are no letters by him from the island. But wherever Borrow went he met people who were interested in him, and so I find the following letter among his Papers, which he received a year after his return:
To George Borrow, Esq.
3 Albert Terrace, Douglas, 11 February 1856.
My dear Sir,—If experience on report has made you acquainted with the nature of true Celtic indolence and procrastination you will be prepared to learn, without surprise, that your Runic stone still remains unerected.[184] In vain have I called time after time upon the clerk of Braddan—in vain have I expostulated. Nothing could I get but fair words and fair promises. First he was very rheumatic, having, according to his own account, contracted his dolorous aches in the course of that five-hours' job under your superintendence in the steeple, where, it seems, a merciless wind is in the habit of disporting itself. Then the weather was so unfavourable, then his wife was ailing, etc., etc. On Saturday, however, armed with your potent note, I made another attack, and obtained a promise that the stone should be in its right place on that day of the week following. So I await the result. My own private impression is that if we see the achievement complete by Easter there will be much cause for thankfulness.