MEMORIES OF GLENAUGH. 99 



I catch the squeak of the snipe as they 

 jerk themselves from the heather, but find it 

 out of the question to cover one of them ; the 

 rain falls still harder and faster and colder. 



To keep myself warm, I walk quicker. I 

 begin to sing too, the wind occasionally snap- 

 ping the notes from my mouth, or sending the 

 air into wild incoherent intervals. 



Already the Wisp is completely hidden by 

 the mist, though I am sure I know the 

 exact direction in which it lies ; and so I 

 bend my steps towards it. The slope is in 

 .my favour, and I bowl along merrily, thinking 

 of the cheery evening before me, to which a 

 zest has been given by this little voluntary 

 hardship. I trot down the decline for half an 

 hour and more. It is now dark, pitch dark : 

 surely the Wisp should be close at hand ? And 

 sure enough "Hallo, Jack! house a-hoy!" 



Eh, what's this ? A man with a lantern, 

 who jumps over a wall I had not perceived 

 before. Callaghan the tailor hight is he. 



" Is that you, Master Will ? Yerra, thin, sir, 

 isn't it an awful night for ye to be out?" 



" I thought I was at my uncle's, at the Wisp, 



H 2 



