“I followed him, for truth to tell, I was sick at heart of all that I had witnessed that morning, and now felt anxious, if I could, to relieve my imagination of this melancholy imagery and its causes altogether. He went farther up towards the higher mountains, in rather a slanting direction, but not immediately into their darkest recesses, and after a walk of about two miles more, he stopped at the scattered turf walls of what must once have been a cold, damp, and most comfortless cabin.
“'There,' said he, I saw it all; 'twas the blood-hounds. He died, and her white-headed boy died; him, you know, that wouldn't waken—there is where they both died; and see here'—there was at this moment a most revolting expression of ferocious triumph in his eye as he spoke—'see, here the blood-hound dropped, for the bullet went through him!—Ha, ha, that's one; the three dead—the three dead! Come now, come, come.' He then seemed much changed, for he shuddered as he spoke, and after a little time, much to my astonishment, a spirit of tenderness and humanity settled on his face, his eyes filled with tears, and he exclaimed, 'Poor Mary! they're all gone, and she will never see his white head again; and his eyes won't open any more; no, they're all gone, all gone: oh! come away!'
“I had heard as much of this brutal tragedy as made his allusions barely intelligible, but on attempting to gain any further information from him, he relapsed, as he generally did, into his usual abruptness of manner. He now passed down towards the cultivated country, at a pace which I was once more obliged to request him to moderate.
“'Well,' said he, 'if you don't care, I needn't, for we'll have it—I know by the roarin' of the river and by the look of the mountains there above.'
“'What shall we have, Raymond?' I inquired.
“'No matther,' said he, rather to himself than to me, 'we can cross the stick.* But I'll show you the place, for I was there at the time, and his coffin was on the top of his father's. Ha, ha, I liked that, and they all cried but Mary, and she laughed and sung, and clapped her hands when the clay was makin' a noise upon them, and then the people cried more. I cried for him in the little coffin, for I loved him—I wondher God doesn't kill M'Clutchy—the curse o' God, and the blessin' o' the devil on him! Ha, ha, there's one now: let him take it.'
* In mountain rivers a “stick,” or plank, is frequently a
substitute for a bridge.
“We still proceeded at a brisk pace for about a mile and a half, leaving the dark and savage hills behind us, when Raymond turning about, directed my attention to the mountains. These were overhung by masses of black clouds, that were all charged with rain and the elements of a tempest. From one of these depended a phenomenon which I had never witnessed before—I mean a water spout, wavering in its black and terrible beauty over this savage scenery, thus adding its gloomy grandeur to the sublimity of the thunder-storm, which now deepened, peal after peal, among the mountains. To such as are unacquainted with mountain scenery, and have never witnessed an inland water spout, it is only necessary to say, that it resembles a long inverted cone, that hangs from a bank of clouds whose blackness is impenetrable. It appears immovable at the upper part, where it joins the clouds; but, as it gradually tapers to a long and delicate point, it waves to and fro with a beautiful and gentle motion, which blends a sense of grace with the very terror it excites. It seldom lasts more than a few minutes, for, as soon as the clouds are dispersed by the thunder it disappears so quickly, that, having once taken your eye off it when it begins to diminish, it is gone before you can catch it again—a fact which adds something of a wild and supernatural character to its life-like motion and appearance. The storm in which we saw it, was altogether confined to the mountains, where it raged for a long time, evidently pouring down deluges of rain, whilst on the hill side which we traversed, there was nothing but calmness and sunshine.
“'It will be before us,' said Raymond, pointing to a dry torrent bed close beside us; 'whisht, here it is—-ha, ha, I like that—see it, see it!'
“I looked in the direction of his hand, and was entranced in a kind of wild and novel delight, by witnessing a large bursting body of water, something between a dark and yellow hue, tumbling down the bed of the river, with a roaring noise and impetuosity of which I had never formed any conception before. From the spot we stood on, up to its formation among the mountains, the river was literally a furious mountain torrent, foaming over its very banks, whilst from the same place down to the cultivated country it was almost dry, with merely an odd pool, connected here and there by a stream too shallow to cover the round worn stones in its channel. So rapid, and, indeed dangerous, is the rise of a mountain flood, that many a life of man and beast have fallen victims to the fatal speed of its progress. Raymond now bent his steps over to the left, and, in a few minutes, we entered a graveyard, so closely surrounded by majestic whitethorns, that it came upon me by surprise.