Ebook The Macdermots of Ballycloran

A large ash, apparently cut down years ago. With the branches still on it, was stretched somewhat out of the wood: on this I sat, lighted a cigar, and meditated on this characteristic specimen of Irish life. The sun was setting beautifully behind the trees, and its imperfect light through the foliage gave the unnatural ruin a still stronger appearance of death and decay, and brought into my mind thoughts of the wrong, Oppression, misery, and despair, to which some one had been subjected by what I saw before me.