Читать книгу The Daughter of a Soldier: A Colleen of South Ireland онлайн

32 страница из 42

In the summer time the whole of the beautiful land-locked harbour was covered with a sort of phosphorescence, which caused the water to look like living fire. Many a young lad who lived in Kingsala spent the night in the inner harbour, stretched fast asleep in the bottom of his boat. In the evenings hardly any of the "Quality," as they were called, were seen in the streets. They were as a rule floating about in the harbour, singing, chattering, laughing, or exchanging confidences one with another. The land-locked inner harbour was in the summer months transformed into a sort of drawing-room, where friends met friends, exchanged the news—very small and very local—and arranged picnics at the Platters and Dishes the next day.

The "Quality" of Kingsala had little or nothing to do. They were without exception gentlefolks living on their means. Work was a thing unheard of; it was not gentlemanly. You might fish, you might hunt, but work for a living—never. Pleasure was the order of the hour.