A wall-enclosed lot about two hundred feet square was "the
kindest sod in all the world to an O'Hara," and here we placed our dear
friend at rest with the "lucky ones" of his race. No one of the race
ever deserved more "luck" than did our Sir Tom. The young clergyman who
read the service assured us that he had found it; and our minds gave the
same evidence, and our hearts said Amen, as we turned from his peaceful
resting-place by the green waters of Sligo Bay.
Two days later we were comfortably lodged at The Hague, from which we
intended to "do" the little kingdom of Holland by rail, by canal, or on
foot, as we should elect.
CHAPTER LXI
THE BELGIAN FARMER
Leaving Holland with regret, we crossed the Schelde into Belgium, the
cockpit of Europe. It is here that one sees what intensive farming is
like. No fences to occupy space, no animals roaming at large, nothing
but small strips of land tilled to the utmost, chiefly by hand. Little
machinery is used, and much of the work is done after primitive
fashions; but the land is productive, and it is worked to the top of its
bent.
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