There is one thing the light railway has done, and that is to give the
people a market for their goods. We were all much poorer than we once
were, except Mr. Dawson, who made his money by money-lending in Dublin
and London; but even with Mr. Dawson's big house we did not make a
market for the countryside.

Besides, there was a stir among the people there used not to be. They
were spinning and weaving in their cottages, and they were rearing fowl
and growing fruit and flowers.

The things which before the peasant children did for sport they now did
for profit as well. It caused the greatest surprise in the minds of the
people when they discovered that anybody could want their blackberries
and their mushrooms; that money was to be made out of even the gathering
of shamrocks. They thought that people out in the world who were ready
to pay money for such things must be very queer people indeed. But since
there were "such quare ould oddities," it was just as well, since they
made life easier for the poor.

Another thing was that a creamery had been started at Araglin, only a
mile or two from us, and the girls went there from the farms to learn
the trade of dairying.

If it were not for the light railway none of these things would have
been possible, and so I forgave it that it flew with a shriek round the
base of the Purple Hill, setting all the mountains rattling with echoes,
and disturbing the water fowl on the lakes and the song-birds in the
woods, the eagle in his eyrie, and the wild red deer, to say nothing of
the innumerable grouse and partridges and black cock and plover and
hares and rabbits on the mountain-side.

My grandmother was not as angry against the light railway as my
grandfather; she used to say that we must go with the times, and she was
glad the people were stirring since it kept their thoughts from turning
to America. She had been talked over by Miss Champion, my godmother and
the greatest friend we have. And Miss Champion was always on the side of
the people, and had even persuaded my grandmother to let her have some
of her famous recipes, such as those for elder and blackberry wine, and
for various preserves, and for fine soaps and washes for the skin, so
that the people might know them and make more money.

"Every one makes money except the gentry," my grandfather grumbled, "and
we grow poorer year by year."

My grandfather talked freely in my presence; and I knew that Aghadoe
Abbey was mo