Excerpt from Shandon Bells, Vol. 1 of 3: A Novel
So still this night was. The white moonlight lay over the sleeping world; the Atlantic was calm; the little harbour-town of Inisheen, with all its picturesque squalor of quays and creeks and stranded boats, had gone to rest; and here, high up in this inland glen (from which the sea was visible only as a sharp line of silver at the horizon), among the felled trees and the brushwood, there was no sound save the continuous "hush-sh-sh" of the streamlet far below in the darkness.
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