92, MEMORIES OF GLENAUGH. 



until when within twenty yards the called 



out in the voice and the brogue of Tim 

 Dinnehy, "Where are ye, Sir?" .... Tim 

 had been sent down to help me home with 

 the birds. His horns had arisen from his 

 having tied a handkerchief round his head in 

 place of a hat, and the ends stuck over his ears 

 in the diabolical fashion, as may be seen in the 

 illustrations to the ' Ingoldsby Legends.' 



In frosty weather I have shot splendid bags 

 of birds at the Pill. Even snipe resorted to 

 it, flying up and down here when the marshes 

 were icebound. You required to be warmly 

 cased for this work, and to bring heavy shot. 

 It was also necessary to get into the habit of 

 firing a long way before the birds, as they 

 mostly came with a spurt through the creek, 

 which led to a large shallow. 



One more story of the Pill before I close. 

 There lived a man near it, the landlord of a 

 shebeen, from whom refreshments could be 

 procured. The hotel was thatched, and in 

 constant want of repairs. On a certain occasion 

 I was accompanied by a Cockney friend, and 

 we went up to Mr. Ryan's establishment for 



