“Anything else to be seen around here?”
“Do ye see those basaltic columns on the face av the cliff, sur? That’s the Goiant’s Organ, sur.”
“Who plays on it?”
“Well, sur, the storms do. When the wind comes dhriving in from the Atlantic, and the waves lash up the Causeway, they do be sayin’ that whin the timpast is at its hoight all the grand tones av an organ can be heard comin’ from thim pipes.”
“Good enough. That’s worth the money. Here you are. I must be going now to catch my train. Good-bye.”
“Here’s a very dacent mon, sur, that sells picturs av the Causeway.”
“I don’t care for any.”
“They’re very chape, sur.”
“I want to forget the Causeway.”
“Then good-bye, sur, an’ thank ye, sur.”