either out of a
conacre potato patch, for which they were charged a tremendous rent,
or eked out by the excursion of one member of the family to England
for the reaping season. It was not a prosperous life, except in
comparison with that which has succeeded it. For the last few years
kelp has been almost thrown out of the market, and such small prices
are obtainable that it is not worth while to collect it. But the
population originally attracted by kelp remains to starve on the rocks
of Rinvyle.

Lettermore Hill, rising directly from the sea level, is a magnificent
object glittering in the sun. It is "backed" rather like a whale than
a weasel, and includes some good rough mountain pasture, as well as
green fields near its base. As one approaches it a ring of villages is
seen delightfully situated, high for the most part above the sea and
the green fields, and lying back against the huge mountain. It is
natural to suppose that here resides a race of marine mountaineers
seeking their living on the deep while their flocks and herds pasture
on the hill. But no supposition could be wider of the actual fact.
Neither the fields beneath nor the mountain above belong in any way to
the villages which form a belt of pain and sorrow half-way up its
side, drooping at Derryinver to the sea. One of these villages,
Coshleen, surely as wretched a place as any in the world, is
unapproachable by a wheeled vehicle. The pasture land in front is
walled off, and, together with the mountain behind, down almost to the
roof of the cabins, is reserved to the use of a great grazier living
far away. Below, near the sea, stands Rinvyle Castle--whence the name
Coshleen, the village by the castle--the ruined stronghold of the
O'Flahertys who ruled this country long ago, either better or worse
than the Blakes, who have held it for some generations, and under
whose care it has become a reproach to the empire. There is a little
arable land farther down Lettermore Hill, which, being also called
Rinvyle Mountain, might well receive the third name of Mount Misery.
This bit of arable land is let to the surrounding tenants on the
conacre principle--that is, the holders are not even yearly tenants,
but have the land let to them for the crop, the season while their
potatoes or oats are on the ground. By letting this conacre land in
little patches, a high rent is secured, which the tenants have no
option but to promise to pay. Apparently it is these wretched