dawned upon me. I had fixed in my mind, as the central point for my memory to rest on, a promontory right under the direct line of the sun, when I was interrupted by a remark made, not to me but seemingly to the universe in general:—
"Musha! but it's comin' quick."
"What is coming?" I asked.
"The shtorm! Don't ye see the way thim clouds is dhriftin'? Faix! but it's fine times the ducks 'll be afther havin' before many minutes is past."
I did not heed his words much, for my thoughts were intent on the scene. We were rapidly descending the valley, and, as we got lower, the promontory seemed to take bolder shape, and was beginning to stand out as a round-topped hill of somewhat noble proportions.
"Tell me, Andy," I said, "what do they call the hill beyond?"
"The hill beyant there is it? Well, now, they call the place Shleenanaher."
"Then that is Shleenanaher mountain?"
"Begor it's not. The mountain is called Knockcalltecrore. It's Irish."
"And what does it mean?"
"Faix, I believe it's a short name for the Hill iv the Lost Goolden Crown."
"And what is Shleenanaher, Andy?"
"Throth, it's a bit iv a gap in the rocks beyant that they call Shleenanaher."
"And what does that mean? It is Irish, I suppose?"
