Grania, The Story of an Island; vol. 2/2Lawless, Emily
General
Grania, The Story of an Island; vol. 2/2
Lawless, Emily
Ireland -- Fiction
The road from Cashla Bay past Spiddal into Galway is as grim a one
surely as is to be found in these three kingdoms. Mile after mile it
runs through a grey world of boulders, varying from the size of a
hencoop to that of an average cottage. Mile after mile, and still you
say to yourself that the stony deluge must have reached its limits, that
the stones will soon begin to cease; somewhere or other, a little
farther on, at the next turn, there will be unencumbered fields again;
grass, perhaps; possibly even trees; at the worst an earth free from
this soul-wearying, this eternal, interminable incubus of stones.
But no; mile after mile, and still never a sign or hint of change, never
the slightest diminution in their multitude. The straight road--good and
level as all West Connaught roads are--runs on and on through this
rock-encumbered wilderness as if it loved it. There are low drift-hills
near at hand, stone-covered like the rest; there are a few nipped and
draggled looking villages at long intervals; there is a more or less
misty glimpse of Connemara mountains occasionally to be had; also a much
nearer view of Clare and the hills of Burren; there is the bay, very
near indeed, with, perhaps, a ‘pookhaun’ or a hooker upon it; now and
then a stream dashes by, struggling with difficulty through its incubus
of rock, and disappearing under a bridge; otherwise, save stones,
stones, stones, there is nothing till the Galway suburbs grow, grey and
unlovely, upon your sight.
It was the day of Galway fair, the last of the great western spring
fairs, and a large party of Aranites were on their way to it. Grania and
Murdough were amongst them. Grania had her calf to sell, also a couple
of pigs. Murdough had nothing to sell and nothing to do, but any
opportunity of escaping for a few hours from Inishmaan, any prospect of
stir, bustle, and life was welcome to him. It was he, therefore, who had
urged Grania to go this time herself to the fair, instead of entrusting
the calf and pigs to Pete Durane, who usually sold them for her,
charging a modest commission for his own benefit upon the transaction.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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