plainly on the deck, one of them holding the bucket of red turf, and their abuse could be distinctly heard. It changed continually, from profuse Gaelic maledictions to the simpler curses they know in English. As they spoke they could be seen writhing and twisting themselves with passion against the light which was beginning to turn on the ripple of the sea. Soon afterwards another set of voices began in front of us, breaking out in strange contrast with the dwindling stars and the silence of the dawn.
Further on we passed many boats that let us go by without a word, as their nets were not in the channel. Then day came on rapidly, with cold showers that turned golden in the first rays from the sun, filling the troughs of the sea with curious transparencies and light.
This year I have brought my fiddle with me so that I may have something new to keep up the interest of the people. I have played for them several tunes; but as far as I can judge they do not feel modern music, though they listen eagerly from curiosity. Irish airs like 'Eileen Aroon' please them better; but it is only when I play some jig like the 'Black Rogue'—which is known on the island—that they seem to respond to the full meaning of the notes. Last night I played for a large crowd,
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