In a few favoured instances, there
appeared behind the cottages a miserable wigwam, compiled of earth, loose
stones, and turf, where the wealthy might perhaps shelter a starved cow
or sorely galled horse. But almost every hut was fenced in front by a
huge black stack of turf on one side of the door, while on the other the
family dunghill ascended in noble emulation.
About a bowshot from the end of the village appeared the inclosures
proudly denominated the Parks of Tully-Veolan, being certain square
fields, surrounded and divided by stone walls five feet in height. In the
centre of the exterior barrier was the upper gate of the avenue, opening
under an archway, battlemented on the top, and adorned with two large
weather-beaten mutilated masses of upright stone, which, if the tradition
of the hamlet could be trusted, had once represented, at least had been
once designed to represent, two rampant Bears, the supporters of the
family of Bradwardine. This avenue was straight and of moderate length,
running between a double row of very ancient horse-chestnuts, planted
alternately with sycamores, which rose to such huge height, and nourished
so luxuriantly, that their boughs completely over-arched the broad road
beneath.
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