is another thing. There is a bog which is high up the hill, mostly on his houldin', but my land is free from bog, except one end of the big bog, an' a stretch of dry turf, the best in the counthry, an' wid' enough turf to last for a hundhred years, it's that deep."
Old Dan joined in:—
"Thrue enough! that bog of the Gombeen's isn't much use anyhow. It's rank and rotten wid wather. Whin it made up its mind to sthay, it might have done betther!"
"The bog? Made up its mind to stay! What on earth do you mean?" I asked. I was fairly puzzled.
"Didn't ye hear talk already," said Dan, "of the shiftin' bog on the mountain?"
"I did."
"Well, that's it! It moved an' moved an' moved longer than any wan can remimber. Me grandfather wanst tould me that whin he was a gossoon it wasn't nigh so big as it was when he tould me. It hasn't shifted in my time, and I make bould to say that it has made up its mind to settle down where it is. Ye must only make the best of it, Phelim. I daresay ye will turn it to some account."
"I'll try what I can do, anyhow. I don't mane to fould me arms an' sit down op-pawsit me property an' ate it!" was the brave answer.
For myself, the whole idea was most interesting. I had never before even heard of a shifting bog, and I determined to visit it before I left this part of the country.
