Went on a wonderful picnic to Reanie’s Glen, or rather, Man of War Cove. Again a narrow ravine with an old ruin near the beach and cliffs with some formidable caves on either side. An oil-ship, the ‘Elsaro’, torpedoed during the war, and driven ashore during a storm, lies right across the entrance to the cove, its plates larded and rived by the waves and portions of it protruding above the water in the form of iron cormorants and seals. There are great numbers of the latter all around the coast, and we had just been watching one of them swimming in front of us when a party arrived from Cork with air-guns, hooks, a collapsible boat and all things necessary for killing and skinning one of these unfortunate creatures. Since their intent was thus murderous and their manners coarse, we left.
Have finished all about Johnson, and found his writing far more pleasant than I had thought, especially ‘Rasselas and the Rambler’. Of course his sentences are too obviously balanced and prove wearisome. But it is an education to read him and of him.
Have ended ‘Der junge Beethoven’ long ago and found it one of the most moving things I ever read. Am now at Chesterton’s ‘The Everlasting Man’ That is the book for anyone who wishes to be armed against atheists and enemies of religion. It brings one into touch with various philosophies, strengthens always one’s faith in the church as unique and true and shows how other creeds, that is those outside the wavering line of Christianity, are more in the nature of civilisations and philosophies than religions.
Had a struggle but finally prevailed on Mám to pay off old debts by inviting Betty for two days. Her ladyship came, her manner cheerful, her ideas negligible, her outlook worst. But I succeeded in entertaining her, and she is gone and it is over. Made a shrimping-net, but never went shrimping. Went to Dunmanway as usual with Fr. Pat.
