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Unformatted text preview: riors, rows and rows of crude little profile figures with shields and swords. I didn't know what to make of it. "I think the stones were their worshiping place. To hell with Stone- henge. But who will ever know? Perhaps the stones belonged to one of these strange tribes, or even the little people." "Who owns this valley?" said I. The man wasn't sure. All the land had been cleared up there by the government, the last starving settlers driven out for their own good. Pitiful. Just pitiful. Many had gone to America. Did I know of the Highland clearances? "I've told you all I know," he said. "I wish I knew more." LASHER "You will," I said. "I will leave you the means to make a study." Then I begged him to join me on my trek to Donnelaith, but he swore he wasn't up to it. "I love that glen," he said. "I did go there many years ago with a man from the Amsterdam order. Alexander Cunningham was his name, a brilliant fellow. He paid for everything, and what a picn...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10