40 WILD SPORTS OF THE WEST 



CHAPTER VII. 



THE morning had a sullen look ; Slieve More retained 

 his nightcap ; the edge of the horizon where the ocean 

 met the sky was tinged with a threatening glare of lurid 

 sunshine ; the wind was capricious as a woman's love 

 now swelling into gusts, now sinking to a calm, as 

 the unsteady breeze shifted round to every point " i' 

 the shipman's card." As evening approached, the 

 clouds collected in denser masses, and the giant outline 

 of Slieve More was lost in a sheet of vapour. The swell 

 from the Atlantic broke louder on the bar ; the piercing 

 whistle of the curlew was heard more frequently ; and 

 the small hard- weather tern, which seldom leaves the 

 Black Rock but to harbinger a coming tempest, was 

 ominously busy ; whirling aloft in rapid circles, or 

 plunging its long and pointed wing into the broken 

 surface of the billow. All portended a storm ; the wind 

 freshened momentarily, and at last blew steadily from 

 the south-east. 



I was at the door, engaged in speculating upon the 

 signs of the approaching gale, when old John, my 

 kinsman's grey-headed butler, summoned me to dinner. 

 Some say that a bachelor's repast has always a lonely 

 and comfortless appearance ; and it may be so. I 

 grant that a sprinkling of the sexes adds to the social 

 character of the table ; but this apart, with the abate- 

 ment of that best society lovely woman, who shall 

 dine more luxuriously than I ? Two hours' rabbit- 

 shooting in the sand-hills has given me a keen and whole- 



