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The ^British Isles 
 Through an Opera Glass 
 
 <By CHARLES SM. TAYLOR, Jr. 
 
 Fellow of The Royal Geographical Society and of the 
 American Geographical Society 
 
 Author of "Vacation Days in Hawaii and Japan" 
 With Map and Forty-eight Illustrations 
 
 "Philadelphia 
 
 George W. Jacobs & Co. 
 
 1899 
 
-1898'* 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 OF CONGRESS 
 
 WASHINGTON 
 
 Copyright 1899, by 
 George W. Jacobs & Co, 
 
 tw 
 
 O COPIES RECEIVED. 
 
 •fcCuuj COPY, 
 
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 At-** • 
 
Co mg bear ZHottjer 
 tCfjts oolume is affectionately inscxibtb 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Abroad — Paris — " Merrie England." ...... 9 
 
 Sail for Havre — Paris— Champs Elysees— Bois 
 de Boulogne — St. Cloud — The Louvre — Tuiler- 
 ies — Place de la Concorde — Versailles — Pere 
 la Chaise — London — The Thames — Richmond 
 Hill— Hyde Park— The Tower— British Muse- 
 um — Westminster Abbey — South Kensington 
 Museum — London Bridge — Hampton Court — 
 Kew Gardens — Planning a Tour — Ireland, Scot- 
 land and the English Lakes — London Street 
 Cries — Living Expenses at Home and Abroad 
 — We Leave London — Travelling Companions 
 — Liverpool — A Bank Holiday — New Brighton 
 — " Salvationists" — Parliament. 
 
 Dublin — Bray — Picturesque Ireland 37 
 
 En Route for Dublin — Holyhead — Kingstown 
 — Dublin — An Irish Jaunting Car — Petticoat 
 Lane— Sackville Street— Hill of Howth— Bray 
 — Enniskerry — Glen of the Downs — Espla- 
 nade — A Little Irish Boy — Sketching Bray 
 Head — Spectators — Sugar Loaf Mountain — 
 Rathdrum— The Ride to Glendalough— Other 
 Tourists— The Seven Churches—" The Meeting 
 of the Waters " — Avoca. 
 
 Mountains and Lakes — Old Castles and Towns. 67 
 An Irish Liberal — Arklow — Shelton Abbey — 
 A Norman Castle — Enniscorthy — New Ross — 
 Irishtown— The Steamer Ida— Waterford— The 
 
4 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Top of the Hill— An Old Shanty— Cork— Pat- 
 rick Street and Bridge—" The Bells of Shan- 
 don " — Blarney Castle — The Blarney Stone— 
 A Scotch Lassie — Bantry — Glengariffe — St. 
 Swithin and Rain — On the Road to Killarney — 
 Tunnels— Kenmare— The Black Valley— The 
 Upper Lake. 
 
 The Gap of Dunloe— Romantic Ireland ... 105 
 The Royal Victoria Hotel — Ross Castle — To 
 the Gap of Dunloe — Kate Kearney's Cottage — 
 Fairy Glen — Serpent Lake — St. Patrick's Cot- 
 tage — Macgillicuddy's Reeks — Five Islands — 
 The Long Range— "The Happy Family"— 
 Shooting the Rapids— The Old Bridge— "Tooth- 
 ache Bridge" — Brickeen Bridge— Devil's Island 
 — Muckross Abbey — Colleen Bawn Rock — Tore 
 Mountain — Limerick — The Theatre Royal — 
 The River Shannon — Kilrush. 
 
 Kilkee — Galway — Clifden — Sligo — By Rail 
 and River 135 
 
 Kilkee— The Cliffs— Dunlicky Castle and Bish- 
 op's Island — "Evicted Houses" — The Main 
 Street — Caves of Kilkee — Keeping the Sab- 
 bath — Galway— Eyre Square — Church of St. 
 Nicholas — Salmon Leap — Fish Market — Salt 
 Hill— On the Road to Clifden— The New Rail- 
 road— Rainbow— Clifden— The Way to West- 
 port — Letterfrack — Kylemore Castle — Leenane 
 — Westport — Ride to Sligo— Rapids— Ballyso- 
 dare — Sligo — Lough Hill — Our Old Driver — 
 
CONTENTS 5 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The White Donkey — Stories by the Way— 
 Drumcliffe Round Tower — Cliffs on the Glen- 
 car — Going for Turf — Bundoran. 
 
 Famous Irish Towns and Their Industries — 
 
 The Giant's Causeway 175 
 
 Bundoran — Along the Cliffs — Ballyshannon — 
 Falls of Erne — Belleek Pottery — Lough Erne 
 — Crevinish Castle — Devenish Abbey and 
 Round Tower — Enniskillen — Londonderry — 
 Lough Swilly — The Old Wall — Portrush — 
 Giant's Causeway — Recognizing a Philadel- 
 phian — The Organ — Honeycomb — Loom — 
 Lord Antrim's Parlor — The Fan — Keystone — 
 Ladies' Wishing Chair — Old Women — The 
 Chimneys— The Well— The Giant's Eyeglass— 
 Dunluce Castle — Belfast — The Wanamaker 
 of Belfast — Royal Damask Linen Factory — 
 Ormeau Park — Cave Hill — Irish Hospitality. 
 
 The Land of Burns — Glasgow — The Trossachs. 209 
 Lame — Stranraer — The Land of Burns — Ayr — 
 Burns' Cottage — The Monument — Relics of the 
 Poet — Picture — Glasgow — Origin of the Name — 
 Royal Princess Theatre— About the City— The 
 Cathedral— West End Park— James Watt— The 
 Clyde — Loch Lomond — The Trossachs — Inver- 
 snaid — Loch Katrine — Rob Roy's Hut — Stron- 
 achlachar— Ellen's Isle — Our Coach— Loch Ard. 
 
 The Highlands — Staffa and Iona — Fingal's 
 
 Cave — Inverness 233 
 
 Greenock — En Route for Oban — Dunoon — 
 Rothesay — Kyles of Bute — Maids of Bute — 
 
6 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Tarbert — Crinan Canal — Oban — Castle Dun- 
 staffnage — Staffa — Fingal's Cave — The Cause- 
 way — Bending Pillars — Fingal's Wishing Chair 
 — Iona— The Street of the Dead— The Ceme- 
 tery — Ballachulish — Glencoe — Ossian's Cave — 
 The Scene of the Massacre — Banavie — Ben 
 Nevis — Fort Augustus — Inverness — The North- 
 ern Meeting — Scotch Pipers — A Noted Charac- 
 ter — Away to Edinburgh — Scenes on the Jour- 
 ney — Farewell to the Highlands. 
 
 Edinburgh and the English Lakes — The Home 
 
 Voyage 281 
 
 Edinburgh — The Castle — Princes Street — 
 Scott's Monument— St. Giles' Cathedral— Can- 
 ongate Tolbooth — John Knox's House and 
 Church — White Horse Close — Holyrood — 
 Queen Mary's Apartments — The Queensferry 
 Road — Dean Bridge — Forth Bridge — Farewell 
 to Scotland — Keswick — Lake Derwentwater — 
 Pencil Manufacturers— Greta Hall— The Islands 
 — Drive Around the Lake — By Coach to Win- 
 dermere — Homes of Shelley and Hall Caine — 
 Wythburn Church — Lake Thirlmere — Helm 
 Crag — Grasmere — Nab Cottage — Rydal Mount 
 Ambleside — Windermere — Liverpool — The Day 
 of Departure — On Board the Etruria — The 
 Home Voyage — New York — Home Again. 
 
X 
 PQ 
 
 M pc g~ 
 
 O 
 

 
 -£ M tc 7 i F 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGK 
 
 " Here are many pigs, the ' Gentlemen who pay the 
 
 rent ' " . . . . Frontispiece 
 
 11 The Irish Jaunting Car " . . . .41 
 
 Bray, the Brighton of Ireland ... 47 
 
 The Famous Glendalough . . . .57 
 
 Sweet Vale of Avoca ..... 63 
 
 " Irishtown " . . . . . .71 
 
 " As we ascend, we pass through the very old part of 
 
 Waterford " . . . -77 
 
 " Dried-up specimens of humanity " . . .81 
 
 " Blarney Castle was a lordly place in the days of its 
 
 glory" 85 
 
 " We leave with reluctance this delightful spot " .89 
 
 "We pass through a tunnel " 93 
 
 " A magnificent view meets our eyes " . . 97 
 
 " Royal Victoria Hotel, Killarney " . . .101 
 
 " Old Ross Castle, Killarney " . . . .109 
 
 Fairy Glen and Serpent Lake, Gap of Dunloe . 113 
 
 " The musicians, however, are anything but fairy-like " 1 17 
 " We shoot the Rapids under Old Weir Bridge " .121 
 
 Devil's Island, Killarney .... 125 
 Colleen Bawn Rock . . . . .129 
 
 " In the Distance is Bishop's Island " . .139 
 
 Main Road, Galway ..... 143 
 
 "We have never seen their like before " . . 147 
 
 " We find ourselves within sight of the beautiful and 
 
 picturesque Kylemore Castle " , . .151 
 
 " We take our places in the large jaunting car that 
 
 leaves for Sligo " .... 155 
 
 7 
 
8 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGB 
 
 " Picturesque mountains are on our right " . . 159 
 
 " We have an old driver full of Irish wit and history " 163 
 " We pass many children on donkeys with baskets on 
 
 either side, going for turf " . . . 167 
 
 " There are many odd sights " . . . -171 
 
 Great Northern Hotel, Bundoran . . .179 
 
 " How skilful these workmen are in moulding the 
 
 many different patterns " . . . 183 
 
 " Exquisite scenes greet us on right and left " . . 187 
 
 " Port Coon Cave " . .• . .191 
 
 "View of the Famous Causeway" . . . 195 
 
 " Surrounding the chair are many old women " . 199 
 " The little cottage in which Burns was born " . .215 
 
 " Enchanting scenery surrounds us," Loch Lomond 225 
 
 " We are rowed to the Island " . . . .241 
 
 " The renowned Fingal's Cave " . . . 245 
 
 " We walk along the « Street of the Dead ' " . .251 
 
 " We have reached the scene of the massacre " . 257 
 " We have a fine view of Ben Nevis " . . .261 
 
 " We have a long and delightful ride on Loch Ness " 265 
 " A Prize Dance " ..... 269 
 " A Typical Highland Washday "... 274 
 " Queen's View, Killiecrankie Pass " . . 277 
 
 " The famous bridge which spans the Forth" . . 295 
 
 " We Stroll to Lake Derwentwater " . . 301 
 
 "The Quiet Waters of Rydal" . . . .311 
 
Abroad — Paris — 
 
 44 Merrie England* 
 
 tt 
 
cAbroad— Paris— "cMerrie England." 
 
 Sail for Havre — Paris — Champs Elysees — Bois de Bou- 
 logne — St. Cloud — The Louvre — Tuileries — Place de 
 la Concorde — Versailles — Pere la Chaise — London — 
 Clean Streets — The Tower of London — British 
 Museum — Westminster Abbey — Hampton Court — 
 St. Paul's Cathedral — Crystal Palace — Planning a 
 Tour — Ireland, Scotland, and the English Lakes — 
 London Street Cries — Living Expenses at Home and 
 Abroad — We Leave London — Travelling Com- 
 panions — Liverpool — A Bank Holiday — New Brigh- 
 ton — Salvationists — Parliament. 
 
 ANY human beings deem it one of 
 Heaven's greatest blessings to be " let 
 alone ;" to be allowed to wander on, 
 day after day, along the beaten track of familiar 
 routine ; to pass their whole lives amid the asso- 
 ciations of their native cities : while others desire 
 more than the comforts of a home surrounded 
 by dear friends and relatives, and long for a per- 
 sonal knowledge of distant countries, and the 
 manners and customs of their inhabitants. 
 
12 The British Isles 
 
 In the hearts of the latter class, the years as 
 they come and go, leave germs of restlessness, 
 and a gradually increasing determination to 
 gratify this longing ; to add to their experience 
 by a visit to these foreign shores ; to tramp and 
 observe the rare, the new, the curious ; to see 
 life in all its phases ; and to fill the mental store- 
 house with the varied treasures that only thus 
 may be obtained. This is the case with us. 
 And so we find ourselves one day on board the 
 French Liner La Bourgogne, bound for Havre, in 
 order to make a roundabout trip, and take in 
 Paris, on our way to the British Isles. 
 
 As the great hawsers which hold the steamer 
 to the pier are loosened, and we are towed 
 toward midstream, we strain our eyes to distin- 
 guish the forms of the dear ones assembled on 
 the end of the pier to wish us bon voyage. Other 
 emotions mingle with the joy of starting out to 
 fulfil our dreams, and observe the possibilities in 
 life on other planes. The good wishes and 
 loving calls of farewell lose their sweetness in 
 
Abroad — Paris — " Merrie England " 13 
 
 the noise and bustle that prevail, and our only- 
 consolation is in the continued waving of hand- 
 kerchiefs. These little white signals speak to 
 us in place of the lips that are sealed, and we 
 watch them fondly until the increasing distance 
 shuts them wholly from view ; then seek steamer 
 chairs, and write letters to the dear ones, to be 
 taken ashore by the pilot, when he leaves us at 
 Sandy Hook. 
 
 So the first day passes in writing and loung- 
 ing on deck, enjoying the pure sea air. What 
 follows during the ensuing days until we reach 
 Havre need hardly be noted. It is the same 
 from day to day ; the noise of the machinery, 
 the roll of the steamer, encouraging words to 
 the sick, and the usual round of entertainments 
 found on an ocean steamer : so the time passes, 
 while our staunch ship ploughs the angry waves, 
 or glides smoothly over the waters of the deep 
 blue sea. We reach Havre at eleven o'clock in 
 the evening, and remain on board till morning. 
 Many pleasant acquaintances have been made 
 
14 The British Isles 
 
 during the voyage, and now regretful partings, 
 accompanied by " May Heaven bless you " and 
 hopes of future meetings are the order of the 
 day. We proceed by train from Havre to Paris 
 the same day, and drive to the Normandy Hotel. 
 We remain a couple of weeks in the gay 
 capital. Many and varied are the pleasures 
 afforded by this wonderful city. In our expedi- 
 tions about the city we frequently come across a 
 fellow voyager, an acquaintance, or an old friend 
 from home ; and these unexpected meetings are 
 a source of great delight to us, since we are never 
 sure that an entertaining companion will not fall 
 in with us at any point in our merry journeys 
 hither and thither. The streets are full of life 
 and the Champs Elysees, as ever, stands without 
 a rival, as the centre of gayety and beauty. This 
 charming place is frequented by all classes of the 
 people. There are many seats in the shade of 
 its fine trees, and for a penny, you may occupy 
 one for an hour or a day, according to your 
 pleasure. Thousands of maidens and pretty 
 
Abroad — Paris — "Merrie England" 15 
 
 children may be seen flitting about these lovely- 
 walks. Numerous cafes offer refreshments to 
 the pleasure seekers, and there are concert halls, 
 with their mimic stages for dancers and actors, 
 while the lover of music, from him who prefers 
 the typical French songs of the day to the wor- 
 shipper of more classic melodies, will here find 
 his taste gratified. We pay our penny, and from 
 an enchanting bower look out upon the happy 
 throng during a long delightful afternoon. In 
 the Bois de Boulogne we also find the merry 
 populace, driving along in fashionable attire, 
 strolling through the Park, or lingering beside 
 the lake and waterfall. The fine avenue from 
 the Champs Elysees hither is a pleasant sight in 
 afternoons, when the throng of gay equipages is 
 at its height. 
 
 The village of St. Cloud is several miles west 
 of Paris, on the Seine ; and here are the famous 
 palace, gardens and park. The palace is a ruin, 
 but the gardens are very lovely, and we wander 
 among the beautiful paths, admiring the world- 
 
1 6 The British Isles 
 
 renowned fountains, and from the tops of the 
 hills which the gardens cover, we have a magni- 
 ficent view of the city of Paris. 
 
 The glorious paintings and wonderful statu- 
 ary of the Louvre are irresistible attractions, and 
 we spend many hours in the presence of these 
 masterpieces of great artists. 
 
 The Garden of the Tuileries is another favor- 
 ite resort of the people, to whom it is open from 
 daybreak until dark. From its terraces there is 
 a beautiful prospect of the Seine, the Place de la 
 Concorde and the Champs Elysees. The palace, 
 which has been the scene of various historical 
 events and terrible tragedy, is a ruin, inaccessible 
 to the public. 
 
 The Place de la Concorde, with its fine views 
 its charming fountains, and its historical associa- 
 tions, also attracts us, and we can scarcely real- 
 ize that on this beautiful, peaceful spot the 
 infuriated mobs of Paris wrought their deeds of 
 vengeance, and put to death a long line of noble 
 men and women. So lovely are our surroundings 
 
Abroad— Paris— "Merrie England" 17 
 
 here, that that dreadful epoch seems the creation 
 of a morbid fancy, or a terrible nightmare, which 
 we are glad to cast into the shades of oblivion. 
 
 But endless are the entertainments, and num- 
 berless the interesting and attractive points for 
 the stranger in Paris. It would be vain to attempt 
 to mention them all. Yet I cannot pass by the 
 palace, gardens, and fountains of Versailles with- 
 out a word. How long could we not linger on 
 those wide terraces, and in those lovely embow- 
 ered paths, with the shining sheets of water at 
 their feet. We are loath to leave these enchant- 
 ing vistas, with their fairy-like associations, even 
 for the palace itself. The statuary, bronzes, and 
 vases on the outside are worthy a longer obser- 
 vation than our time will allow, and to do justice 
 to this richly ornamented interior, with its paint- 
 ing and sculpture, with our limited time, would 
 be a vain attempt. We would indeed gladly 
 spend many days in this lovely spot, but Paris 
 and her environments call for a long sojourn or 
 many visits. 
 
1 8 The British Isles 
 
 In Pcre la Chaise we find the celebrated tomb 
 of Abelard and Heloise, with its effigies of the 
 lovers lying at last side by side in their long sleep. 
 
 But the last days arrive, and we hasten 
 through the remainder of our sight-seeing, bid 
 farewell to the pleasure-loving throngs, and, 
 crossing the English Channel with an indescrib- 
 able feeling of " homeness " and kinship, find 
 ourselves once more among people who speak 
 our own language. 
 
 At Morley's Hotel, Trafalgar Square, Lon- 
 don, in response to a telegram, a fine large room 
 is ready for us, with windows overlooking the 
 Strand. 
 
 London is a beautiful city. Each time we 
 visit this metropolis we are more impressed with 
 the order and cleanliness of its streets. We are 
 informed that they are flushed with water every 
 morning at about three o'clock. There are hosts 
 of boys whose duty it is to gather up all the 
 litter that may be seen defacing the highways. 
 
 We do not remain at Morley's, but settle 
 
Abroad — Paris — "Merrie England" 19 
 
 down in apartments in a very comfortable house 
 in Duchess Street, Portland Place, where we have 
 a large chamber and a spacious, elaborately fur- 
 nished drawing-room or library. We are located 
 in one of the most desirable spots in London, 
 convenient to theatres, shops, etc. Our stay 
 here is pleasant and full of interest. We travel 
 about in the most unconventional manner, stop- 
 ping wherever the impulse of the moment leads 
 us. Some days the beautiful Thames tempts us 
 with its famous and picturesque bridges and the 
 noble country-seats along its banks. We wander 
 out to Richmond Hill for the lovely view, or 
 linger about Hyde Park in the late afternoon to 
 see the carriages and equestrians on " Rotten 
 Row." In the South Kensington Museum we 
 prowl about in the most unsystematic manner, 
 now filled with enthusiasm for an ancient Indian 
 god, now absorbed in a rare volume in the mag- 
 nificent library here, or lost in admiration of a 
 fine English water-color. We spend hours here 
 when the mood for antiquity is upon us. 
 
20 The British Isles 
 
 It is very interesting to watch the mass of 
 people, and the endless rows of vehicles con- 
 stantly moving over London Bridge. The police 
 are busy keeping everything and everybody mov- 
 ing in the two ceaseless streams, one flowing to 
 the north, the other to the south. 
 
 The ancient Tower of London stands on the 
 banks of the Thames, in the heart of the city, 
 and, although built by William the Conqueror, is 
 in a perfect state of preservation. Here we see 
 the long row of king's effigies, from Edward I. to 
 James II., also the crown jewels, and many 
 trophies of war and stands of ancient armor. 
 The treasures of the British Museum are price- 
 less and beyond description. We linger among 
 the Elgin marbles and the other mutilated statu- 
 ary, whose grace and nobility of form are the 
 dream and the despair of the artists of to-day. 
 
 For more than eight hundred years the kings 
 and queens of England have been crowned in 
 Westminster Abbey. Here, too, are royal tombs, 
 and tombs of those who were greater than roy- 
 
Abroad— Paris — "Merrie England" 21 
 
 alty. Here are monuments and memorials of all 
 the English celebrities of many ages. Here lie 
 the mortal remains of Spenser, Milton, Dryden, 
 of Handel, of Dickens and Thackeray, and many, 
 many others. 
 
 Here, too, fastened beneath the celebrated 
 Coronation Chair, is the famous Stone of Scone, 
 with its wonderful history and curious traditions. 
 This dark, rough-looking stone is about two feet 
 square and six or seven inches thick. It is said 
 to be the stone upon which Jacob's head rested 
 when he beheld the vision of the heavenly stair- 
 case and the " angels of God." Edward I. brought 
 this stone from Scotland, where for many gen- 
 erations it was the coronation stone of the Scott- 
 ish kings. 
 
 In the National Gallery we see a fine collec- 
 tion of paintings by the great English masters. 
 
 The splendid palace of Hampton Court is on 
 the Thames, a short distance from London. The 
 park and gardens are lovely, and the enormous 
 chestnut trees have a world-wide fame. In the 
 
22 The British Isles 
 
 palace is a fine gallery of paintings, mostly his- 
 torical portraits, and there are luxurious apart- 
 ments and handsome tapestry. The terrace, 
 nearly a mile in length, overlooks a charming 
 landscape. 
 
 St. Paul's Cathedral is on the summit of 
 Ludgate Hill, and may be seen from many miles 
 around. It is of gigantic proportions and con- 
 tains the tombs of many of England's great 
 men. 
 
 Kew Garden is the most famous garden in the 
 world. Its trees, bushes, shrubs, and flowers are 
 arranged for artistic effect, and one might explore 
 it for days without ceasing to find new plants or 
 trees or flowers, or unexpected arrangements in 
 its paths or shrubbery. 
 
 Meanwhile the all-important question of plans 
 for future travel presents itself. What course 
 shall we pursue next ? How and whither shall we 
 go in order to observe the most curious, interest- 
 ing, and instructive phases of life in this richly- 
 dowered region ? 
 
Abroad — Paris — "Merrie England" 23 
 
 The genial and untiring manager at the main 
 office of Thos. Cook & Son is of great assistance 
 in our consultations. He plans for us a route 
 which will include many of the most interesting 
 places for the lovers of old abbeys and picturesque 
 scenery to be found in these localities. By the 
 plan proposed we proceed from London to Liver- 
 pool, thence to Dublin and Cork, and by steamer, 
 rail, and coach, skirt the western shore of Ireland, 
 from south to north, until we reach Belfast. There 
 the Scotch map is taken up, with the journey 
 to Glasgow, and delightful winding tours there- 
 about, to Oban. Thence to the Hebrides ; back 
 to Oban again, and along the Caledonian Canal 
 to Inverness, Forres and Edinburgh. Thence to 
 the English Lakes and Liverpool. Many points 
 not mentioned are embraced in this first outline 
 of our prospective tour. 
 
 The plan suits us, and tickets are purchased 
 for the entire route. Now follows much reading 
 up of the points of interest to be seen in our 
 travels. We also look so far ahead as to engage 
 
24 The British Isles 
 
 a state-room for the return voyage to America on 
 the good steamer Etruria. 
 
 As I sit reading this morning by the library 
 window, overlooking the street, strange and unin- 
 telligible sounds come to my ears from the various 
 venders, who thus advertise their wares. 
 
 " Heat ! Heat ! " cries the man who has coal 
 for sale. The indistinguishable cry of the straw- 
 berry man leaves upon the mind the impression 
 of " Strawberry ! Strawberry ! Very heavy." 
 The milkman calls " Coo ! Coo I" and the chim- 
 ney sweep wails " Screep ! Screep ! Screep !" 
 
 " Qui vive ! Qui vive ! " is the next sound 
 that greets my ear. What on earth has this man 
 to sell ? Looking out the window, I perceive a 
 vender with a large basket. My first inclination 
 is to close the window and return to my book, 
 but no ; my curiosity is aroused to such a pitch 
 as the strange cry continues, that I hasten out 
 into the street and follow the fellow, determined 
 to learn what he has in his basket. It proves to 
 be cat and dog meat, which he calls out in such 
 
Abroad— Paris — " Merrie England" 25 
 
 a manner that it sounds exactly like " Qui 
 vive." 
 
 These are some of the week-day sounds. 
 On the Sabbath there is a change. The noble 
 church bells with their musical chimes call all 
 good Christians to the House of God to offer 
 thanks to the Ruler of all, for the blessings he 
 has bestowed. Now I hear in the distance the 
 notes of a hymn sung with much pathos. The 
 voices draw nearer and nearer, until beneath our 
 window appear a man, woman, and child, singing 
 as they walk along, and now and then turning 
 aside to solicit alms from their listeners, glad of 
 any mite thrown to them. 
 
 We find living abroad quite as expensive as 
 at home ; that is, in accordance with our usual 
 mode of living. Vegetables, meats, fruits, etc., 
 average about the same here in price ; also enter- 
 tainments, as theatres, operas, and the like. 
 Clothing seems to be the single exception, and 
 here the cost is from forty to fifty per cent. less. 
 For instance : strawberries, while at their height, 
 
26 The British Isles 
 
 cost at a regular fruit store, eighteen and twenty 
 cents a box ; cherries, ten, twelve, and sixteen 
 cents a pound ; tomatoes, three, four, and five 
 cents apiece. These prices could, however, be 
 reduced by purchasing at one of the many mar- 
 kets for the sale of such produce. 
 
 Omnibus fares are to some extent cheaper. 
 The system is more just than ours. Suppose 
 the route to be four miles : the first mile, a fare 
 of one penny is charged ; for two miles, the fare 
 is two pennies; for three miles, three pennies, 
 and so on, so that the passenger who travels 
 only one mile is not obliged to pay the fare for 
 the whole route. 
 
 Hansom rates are also less than in the United 
 States. For two persons a shilling is charged 
 for one mile, one and sixpence for two miles, and 
 so on. It would seem at this rate as though the 
 fare might become so much reduced that if a 
 " cabby " carries you four miles you pay him 
 nothing, and if six miles the obligation is on the 
 other side, and you receive a premium of a 
 
Abroad — Paris — "Merrie England" 27 
 
 shilling for favor conferred ; but thus far my 
 experience has not proved that the analogy has 
 been practically carried out. 
 
 As the time for leaving London approaches, 
 the bustle and confusion of packing fill the 
 atmosphere. 
 
 We leave the Midland R. R. Station at noon, 
 and by previous arrangement (the payment of a 
 shilling to the guard) are given a first-class com- 
 partment in the express train. A little " oil " 
 thus used, causes the machinery of travel to run 
 smoothly. 
 
 We suppose we are to be alone, but just 
 before leaving the station learn that another 
 passenger is to share the compartment. Our 
 fellow-traveller is a grave - looking man of 
 about sixty-five years. He at once begins con- 
 versation, and after some remarks on religion, 
 politics and general topics of the day, inquires 
 our destination. Upon learning that we are 
 making a tour through Ireland and Scotland, he 
 becomes much interested, and changing his seat 
 
28 The British Isles 
 
 for one nearer to us, bids us make notes of the 
 various hotels in both these countries where he 
 is known to the proprietors. We make the 
 notes — partly to satisfy the old man. 
 
 He leaves us at Bedford, saying that he feels 
 in better spirits than before he met us. The 
 poor man had lost his wife two years ago, and 
 was in consequence much depressed. He 
 informed us that he was born at Bedford, and 
 had many a time, when a boy, played top near 
 the church where John Bunyan tolled the bell, 
 and swore while doing it. 
 
 While we are congratulating ourselves upon 
 being once more alone, the train stops at Leices- 
 ter, and a lady and gentleman enter our com- 
 partment — a tall, handsome type of the Irish 
 gentleman, with a typical English woman for his 
 wife. 
 
 The appearance of my camera, arranged to 
 take some photographs of Leicester, opens an 
 interesting conversation between the lady and 
 myself, while her husband engages my com- 
 
Abroad— Paris — "Merrie England" 29 
 
 panion in an animated talk on hunting, fishing, 
 etc. They are a delightful couple, and we soon 
 become as social as old acquaintances. They are 
 owners of large estates in Ireland, but are too 
 poor to live upon them. They are " land poor." 
 At Derby they leave us with the customary 
 " God bless you " and hearty thanks for our 
 invitation to visit us in America. 
 
 We are fortunate enough to have another 
 agreeable fellow-traveller in a young man, with 
 whom we soon find ourselves in animated con- 
 versation. He points out all the interesting 
 places along the way, and gives us much valu- 
 able information regarding them. 
 
 The scenery is grand as we approach the 
 famous Derbyshire Hills. One could more 
 easily imagine himself in some Alpine village 
 than in the heart of England. Here is a tunnel 
 two miles in length, and we are just two min- 
 utes and a half passing through it. While in 
 the tunnel, the windows of the car seem to be 
 covered with frost. Our new acquaintance tells 
 
3<d The British Isles 
 
 us that this is from the action of sulphur, which 
 we smell quite plainly. As we emerge into the 
 daylight our eyes rest upon the beautiful Matlock, 
 which, with the surrounding country, is a para- 
 dise of enchanting loveliness. 
 
 We pass the Peak Forest, the scene of Sir 
 Walter Scott's famous novel, " Peveril of the 
 Peak," also Buxton and Stockport, large manu- 
 facturing centres for cotton goods, and come to 
 the great Manchester Canal, upon which so many 
 millions of dollars have been expended, and 
 which thus far has proved a financial failure. 
 And now at last we whirl into the station at 
 Liverpool, an hour behind schedule time. We 
 have been six hours on the road, and are truly 
 sorry that this portion of our journey has come 
 to an end, so interesting have our fellow-travel- 
 lers made the way. 
 
 Our train is a long one, drawn by two immense 
 engines, and is crowded with passengers, as it is a 
 bank holiday. All stores and business places here 
 are closed to the public, and the entire day is de- 
 
Abroad — Paris — "Merrie England" 31 
 
 voted to frolic and pleasure. We go at once to 
 the pleasant and homelike Adelphi Hotel. 
 
 Liverpool contains many fine buildings, 
 among them a number of old churches and a 
 handsome art gallery. It also has some pretty 
 parks, with picturesque sheets of water winding 
 among their hills ; and there are many quaint 
 old inns on the outskirts of the town, as well as 
 numerous substantial residences surrounded by 
 grand old trees. Everywhere are evidences of 
 the great wealth and vast trade of the city, yet 
 there are too many evidences of poverty and vice. 
 
 I avail myself of the present opportunity to 
 make a trip to New Brighton, the sea-shore resort 
 of the people of Liverpool. Here are crowds of 
 men, women, and children bent on pleasure. The 
 enormous passenger traffic on this road is almost 
 beyond calculation, and the sight is a pleasure to 
 those who enjoy large gatherings. New Brighton 
 is situated on the bank of the Mersey, and here, 
 if his bones are not too stiff, one may enjoy 
 bathing, dancing, playing ball, and riding horses 
 
32 The British Isles 
 
 and donkeys. He may refresh himself after 
 these exercises with a cup of the celebrated 
 English tea. 
 
 This evening we take a "bus" ride and see 
 swarms of people returning home after the day's 
 frolic, all merry and orderly, though tired. Here 
 is an extract from one of the daily newspapers of 
 Liverpool on the subject of bank holidays : 
 
 " The weather yesterday may be compared to 
 a man who is excused because his bark is worse 
 than his bite. It threatened a good deal but did 
 little. In the morning it was cold, as it often is 
 in these latitudes. About midday the sun con- 
 descended now and again to favor the holiday- 
 makers with a brief and fleeting smile, but the 
 brightness soon vanished, and finally in the 
 evening it rained a little bit, and so we had some 
 of the proverbial ' samples of weather ' which 
 seems to be the modern paraphrase for the time- 
 honored ' six fine days and a thunderstorm/ 
 that, as Continental folk are firmly persuaded, is 
 the English summer. Still the British public 
 
Abroad — Paris — c< Merrie England" $5 
 
 that goes a-pleasuring on bank holidays is in no 
 wise put out by mild deterrents like these. Such 
 samples of the British public as patronize Liver- 
 pool on these occasions — and they come from as 
 near as Wigan, and as far as Newcastle-upon- 
 Tyne, flocking in from all the four quarters of 
 the Midlands and Yorkshire and Lancashire — 
 appear to be well satisfied with things. Well- 
 behaved and orderly crowds, too, they are, and 
 well dressed. The passion for steamboat voy- 
 aging, even if only across the Mersey and back, 
 is strong within those whose opportunities of 
 indulging in the pastime are limited. The bank 
 holiday makers appear to find Liverpool interest- 
 ing enough, in spite of the fact that none of the 
 town people remain in the city who can get away. 
 It is not unpicturesque, its public buildings and 
 its Art Gallery and Museum are worth looking 
 at, and then there is the river, a marine panorama 
 of no mean order, with, on the other side of it, the 
 wild and exhilarating frolics of New Brighton." 
 Another is as follows : " From an early hour, 
 
34 The British Isles 
 
 trippers poured into New Brighton and the large 
 stretch of sand to the north and south of the 
 promenade pier soon became covered with a 
 moving mass of people. As usual, the arrange- 
 ments made for the ferry traffic were excellent, 
 the whole of the fleet of the Wallasey Local 
 Board, some nine steamers, being in requisition." 
 
 Liverpool seems to be a centre for the " Sal- 
 vationists," for at almost every corner one sees a 
 great crowd of people uniting in religious ser- 
 vices and singing hymns, the leader having a 
 portable organ or accordion. At one corner the 
 minister is entreating his hearers to come into 
 the church, which is about to open its doors 
 close by, and many probably follow his advice, as 
 there seems to be an inclination towards religion 
 here, in spite of much wickedness and unclean- 
 liness. 
 
 We attend the Royal Alexandra Theatre, 
 which proves but a second-rate entertainment. 
 In purchasing reserved seats at places of amuse- 
 ment throughout England it is customary to 
 
Abroad — Paris — "Merrie England" 35 
 
 register the name of the buyer in the regular 
 books as well as inscribe it upon his slip. 
 
 To-morrow we will be again enroute, by train and 
 steamer, for Dublin via Holyhead, hoping to reach 
 our destination by half-past five in the afternoon. 
 
 There has been an exciting election for mem- 
 bers of Parliament in England. While these 
 elections are affairs of great importance, and 
 arouse public feeling to a considerable degree, 
 they do not in any respect resemble the scenes 
 at some of our polls, such, for instance, as the 
 disgraceful riots carried on during election day 
 in the Fourth Ward in Philadelphia, which have 
 frequently been anything but a credit to the 
 reputation of a well-governed city. It is quite 
 common in England for the ladies to take an 
 active part in the elections, soliciting votes for 
 their favorite candidates, and in many ways 
 exerting a widespread and powerful influence in 
 public affairs. Indeed, a prominent English lady 
 assured me that she had secured a large number 
 of votes for a member recently elected. 
 
Dublin, Bray, and 
 
 Picturesque Ireland. 
 

Dublin, ^ray, and Picturesque Ireland. 
 
 En route for Dublin — Holyhead — Kingstown — Dublin — 
 An Irish Jaunting Car — Petticoat Lane — Sackville 
 Street —Hill of Howth — Bray — Enniskerry — Glen of 
 the Downs — Esplanade — A Little Irish Boy — Sketch- 
 ing Bray Head — Spectators — Sugar Loaf Mountain — 
 Rathdrum- -The Ride to Glendalough— Other Tour- 
 ists — The Seven Churches — "The Meeting of the 
 Waters " — Avoca. 
 
 >E leave the station of the L. & N. W. 
 R.W., Liverpool, for Dublin, at 10.25 
 a. m., with two steamer trunks and our 
 hand-grips. It is a charming day. Heavy clouds 
 hang in the sky, illuminated by the radiant sun- 
 beams with picturesque effect. We pass through 
 the northern part of Wales, and from Rhyl 
 onward behold a scenic panorama of great 
 grandeur. On our right is the long expanse of 
 the Irish Sea, while on the left the beautiful 
 mountains of Wales tower far above us. 
 
 There are many watering-places along the 
 
 39 
 
40 The British Isles 
 
 route, with their unsightly bathing machines 
 stationed here and there on the edge of the beach. 
 As we speed on, making a mile a minute, we 
 leave behind us Rhyl, Colwin, Bangor, and at 
 last arrive at Holyhead, where we take a fine, 
 powerful steamer, the Connanght, for Kingstown. 
 There is a great hurrying hither and thither of 
 men, women, and children, with boxes, satchels, 
 and bundles. The whistle sounds, the great 
 side wheels begin to turn, the water foams and 
 bubbles, and we are under full steam for old 
 Ireland. 
 
 It is a charming voyage. The steamer makes 
 good time, and, sitting on deck, we watch the 
 lofty mountains of Wales soften into hills, then 
 banks, and finally disappear wholly from our 
 view, while the tall peaks of Ireland rise up to 
 claim their share of the universal enthusiasm. 
 The great hill of Howth — and Howth itself — 
 now appear in full view. We pass the Kisk 
 Light-ship, and, looking south, behold Kingstown, 
 the port for which we are destined. 
 
s 
 
Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 43 
 
 Now ensues a general stampede, and in the 
 bustle and confusion of landing every one seems 
 in terror lest "the devil catch the hindmost." 
 All, however, reach the shore in safety, and a 
 train bears us from Kingstown to Dublin in a 
 few minutes. Here we soon find ourselves in „ 
 comfortable quarters in the Hotel Metropole, on A 
 Sackville Street. 
 
 In a short walk about the city after dinner 
 we have a glimpse of some of Dublin's lads and 
 lasses, and are highly entertained by our first 
 sight of the Irish jaunting car, which is here 
 used both as a private equipage and a hired 
 vehicle. It will be an interesting experiment to 
 learn how one can ride sideways, with his feet 
 dangling over the wheels of the car. We will 
 try it to-morrow. 
 
 We are up bright and early and engage our 
 jaunting car at one and sixpence an hour for a 
 ride around the city. It must be confessed this 
 is rather an odd affair to the uninitiated. Unless 
 one holds on with a firm grip, he stands a good 
 
44 The British Isles 
 
 chance of being thrown from his seat on sud- 
 denly turning a corner. We drive for an hour 
 through the principal streets, passing many 
 handsome hotels, residences, shops, and other 
 interesting buildings. Sackville Street is the 
 chief thoroughfare, and we find it most attractive, 
 while Grafton Street, the shopping and business 
 locality, presents a mass of stores, especially 
 pleasing to the visitor who comes hither with a 
 well-filled pocket-book. 
 
 Our drive includes the Bank of Ireland, a noble- 
 looking building,with an imposing colonnade,once 
 the meeting-place of the Irish Parliament, and rilled 
 with historical associations. We also pass Trinity 
 College, with its spacious buildings of Portland 
 stone, six hundred feet in depth. It is of the 
 Corinthian order. In the background is a beautiful 
 park, adorned with fine trees and of considerable 
 extent, which is used exclusively by the students. 
 
 The Castle of Dublin, at the west end of 
 Dame Street, is situated in spacious grounds, 
 but is by no means imposing in appearance, and 
 
Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 45 
 
 has little to distinguish it from other ancient 
 buildings. Close by is Christ Church Cathedral, 
 which dates back to 1038, and is noted as the 
 repository for various relics : it contains, among 
 others, the monumental tomb of Strongbow, 
 Earl of Pembroke, the invader of Ireland. 
 
 Here is the Cathedral of St. Patrick, the 
 original building of which, it is said, was erected 
 by St. Patrick himself, near the well in which he 
 baptized his converts. Nelson's Monument, a 
 tall column, stands beside the Post Office, which 
 is a very handsome building of granite, with a 
 fine portico, supported by fluted columns, and 
 surmounted by noble statuary. 
 
 The Four-Courts is a magnificent structure, 
 facing the river Liftey, with a front 450 feet in 
 length. 
 
 Phoenix Park, the delight of the people of 
 Dublin, is a grand old place, covering more than 
 seventeen hundred acres of ground. It is a lovely 
 picturesque region, with nature's own effects pre- 
 served in the beautiful green grass, ancient trees 
 
46 The British Isles 
 
 and luxuriant shrubbery, with long vistas, dis- 
 closing charming views of the Wicklow Mount- 
 ains. It is said to be the largest park in Britain. 
 Many other interesting spots greet our eyes 
 as we drive about Dublin. Few cities of its size 
 can boast of a greater number of handsome and 
 useful buildings. But they do not comprise the 
 whole of the town, as we learn, when, by way of 
 contrast, we turn into " Petticoat Lane," as it is 
 termed. It would be difficult to imagine any- 
 thing more utterly forlorn than this street, with 
 its mingling of filth and rags. Water appears to 
 be utterly unknown here. Men, women and 
 children crowd around the saleswomen, who 
 shout at the top of their voices, urging the popu- 
 lace to buy their wares — disreputable-looking 
 articles of every description : shoes, old and torn ; 
 worn and filthy garments that would disgrace a 
 refuse heap. These are offered at prices to suit 
 the class of purchasers. The sight is beyond 
 description, and we are satisfied with a brief 
 survey of this portion of the town. 
 
Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 49 
 
 Here is the Drogheda Railway Station, and 
 we are starting on an excursion to the peninsula, 
 known as the Hill of Howth, nine miles north of 
 Dublin. The ride is delightful, for majestic 
 mountains loom up in the distance on either side. 
 The threatened rain has become a reality before 
 we arrive at Howth; however, we are not dis- 
 couraged, but engaging a jaunting car we ascend 
 the Hill. Here we bid our driver go his way, 
 that we may enjoy the magnificent view undis- 
 turbed. 
 
 The Hill of Howth is the most admired of 
 all the beautiful suburbs of Dublin. It is six 
 hundred feet high, jutting out into the sea, and 
 guarding the entrance to the river. It com- 
 mands a glorious view, and descends steeply to 
 the water which dashes against its base. The 
 LifTey flows upon one side of its cliffs, while a 
 deep bay or harbor is on the other. 
 
 We stroll about in the rain for a couple of 
 hours, enjoying the extensive prospect around us. 
 Toward the north we can see a curious rocky 
 
5<d The British Isles 
 
 island, which is known as Ireland's Eye, and 
 beyond this, Lambey, equally charming, with a 
 different kind of beauty. Howth Castle, not far 
 from the railway station, is surrounded by exten- 
 sive grounds, well laid out, and the Abbey is in 
 the village, overlooking the harbor. 
 
 To-day we proceed to Bray, a fashionable 
 watering-place, sometimes styled " The Brighton 
 of Ireland," about twelve miles south of Dublin. 
 It has a population of perhaps seven thousand. 
 We take rooms at the Royal Marine Hotel, which 
 faces the sea, and after lunching, make a tour of 
 the place in a jaunting car. 
 
 As far as the eye can see, mountains upon 
 mountains rise, from twelve hundred to fifteen 
 hundred feet above the level of the sea, presenting 
 beautiful and varied views on every side. Before 
 us is a picturesque settlement of small one-story 
 houses, with whitewashed walls and thatched 
 roofs. 
 
 As we ride through Enniskerry, we see in the 
 distance the great Sugar Loaf Mountain, which 
 
Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 5 1 
 
 is sixteen hundred and eighty-one feet above 
 the sea. 
 
 The road to the Glen of the Downs is smooth 
 and delightful. Here we meet many ladies and 
 gentlemen on bicycles. They walk up, and coast 
 down these hilly highways. The Glen is about 
 a mile and a half long, and runs along the foot of 
 the Downs Mountain. Its sides, which rise to 
 a height of six hundred feet, are densely covered 
 with copsewood. 
 
 There are many private demesnes in and 
 around Bray, to which the public are admitted 
 only on certain days of the week. We drive to 
 one of these, the estate of the Earl of Meath, 
 which encompasses Sugar Loaf Mountain, but 
 the gate to the entrance is locked, also that to 
 Bray Head ; and in spite of all our persuasions, 
 they remain locked. The keeper is not to be 
 bribed — evidently shillings are plentiful in his 
 experience — so we give it up. 
 
 The Esplanade, or Promenade, is of solid 
 stone masonry. Here we stroll frequently, meet- 
 
52 The British Isles 
 
 ing the fashionable population of Bray, and 
 observing the few who venture to take a dip in 
 the ocean. Bray Head looms up before us, 
 picturesque and attractive. A path leads around 
 it, commanding many beautiful views, and the 
 enormous tunnel, cut through it by the railway 
 company, is plainly visible from this point. 
 
 As we walk along we see before us a fat little 
 Irish boy, round and smiling, with such bright 
 blue eyes that I must capture him, if not by 
 camera, by pencil. He turns to admire the sea, 
 all unconscious, and I make a rapid sketch of 
 him in my note book. 
 
 An Irish youngster, with form so round, 
 Cheeks so red, and eyes so blue — 
 
 Legs bowed, dress loose, and every pound 
 Just fat — he stands a type so true. 
 
 Looking north we see Killiney Hill jutting 
 far out into the bay. The view from this hill is 
 one of the loveliest in this region. Beside the 
 bay with its stately ships, one looks down on 
 Kingstown and across to the old Hill of Howth. 
 
Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 53 
 
 This afternoon I settle myself in the most 
 favorable spot for making a water-color sketch 
 of Bray Head, and in a position, as I suppose, 
 free from all observers. It is at the foot of a 
 stone wall, and I am getting on nicely with my 
 picture and congratulating myself on the " attend- 
 to-your-own-business" air of the people around, 
 when, happening to glance toward the promenade 
 overhead, I become aware of a dozen or more 
 interested spectators. I cannot tell whether this 
 interest is complimentary or otherwise. How- 
 ever, I go on with my work, and they stay until 
 the sketch is finished. 
 
 We leave Bray this morning for Rathdrum. 
 On the way we pass through several tunnels in 
 Bray Head. Sugar Loaf Mountain is visible 
 from the car window. How noble and majestic 
 it looks. It seems to send down a benediction 
 as we bid farewell to the beautiful picture. 
 
 The day is fine, and everything favors our 
 journey. On the train we make the acquaint- 
 ance of a pleasant and hospitable Irish gentle- 
 
54 The British Isles 
 
 man, who not only gives us much information 
 regarding his native country, but invites us to 
 spend a day or two at his castle at Enniscorthy. 
 We thank him, but decline the sincere invitation. 
 
 At Rathdrum about twenty jaunting cars 
 await the tourists who wish to visit famous Glen- 
 dalough and the Seven Churches. Leaving our 
 luggage at the Railroad Hotel, we select a car 
 to our liking — that is, one in which there is 
 plenty of room. There are six other tourists in 
 our car, all making the trip to Glendalough, and 
 at least twelve of the remaining cars are filled 
 with passengers for the same destination. 
 
 The day begins favorably, but in a half hour 
 the rain pours down upon us. We are, fortu- 
 nately, well protected by waterproofs and um- 
 brellas, having had previous experiences of the 
 uncertainty of Irish weather. Our road lies 
 through a most gorgeous and beautiful country, 
 and, although the rain deprives us of the more 
 extended views, we enjoy the mountains that 
 rise far above us on every side and the pictur- 
 
Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 55 
 
 esque valley below. Our travelling companions 
 are lively and agreeable. An Englishman and 
 his sister, as well as the three gentlemen who 
 sit opposite, prove most entertaining. You will 
 perhaps wonder at this statement when I add 
 that the latter are deaf and dumb ; also that we 
 do not seem to realize their inability to hear and 
 speak. There are in their party twenty or thirty 
 deaf-mutes, who are attending a congress at 
 Dublin. One of them is from Philadelphia, and 
 is an exceedingly fine man. 
 
 In our whole party eight countries are repre- 
 sented — England, Ireland, Scotland, America, 
 Turkey, Armenia, India, and France. We ride 
 on and on, through the beautiful country of 
 Avondale, seeing many lovely bits of scenery. 
 This is the home of Parnell. Many of the 
 people come out of their shanties and cheer us, 
 looking meanwhile for the pennies that are 
 thrown to thern in return. 
 
 Now we are in the valley, driving along pic- 
 turesque wooded roads — now on the height of a 
 
56 The British Isles 
 
 mountain path with the prospect stretching out 
 miles before us. Here is the vale of Clara ; here 
 Derry Bawn. The succession of charming views 
 which delight the eyes seems endless. Indeed 
 there is no portion of this region that is without 
 interest. 
 
 At last we are within sight of famous Glen- 
 dalough, whose singular beauty and celebrated 
 ruins are the subjects of many legends and tradi- 
 tions. There are seven ruins of ancient churches 
 in this region. I can do no better than to copy 
 here some extracts from the guide book, for 
 those who may be interested : 
 
 " The founder of Glendalough was Kevin, 
 signifying in Irish the fair born, whose descent 
 on both sides was from the royal stock of Leins- 
 ter. The date of his birth is unknown ; he died 
 in the year 618. Shortly after being ordained a 
 priest, Kevin withdrew to the wilderness of Glen- 
 dalough, a valley shut in by lofty mountains, and 
 lived here seven years as a hermit. His dwell- 
 ing on the northern shore of the lake was a hollow 
 
Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 59 
 
 tree ; on the southern shore he lived in a very- 
 narrow cave, to which there was no access except 
 by boat, for it is overhung by a perpendicular 
 rock of great height. His retreat was discov- 
 ered by a shepherd, and crowds flocked to see 
 him. They built him a cell close to the south- 
 ern shore of the lake, and an oratory hard by. 
 This place soon became too small for the multi- 
 tude of disciples who sought to dwell around his 
 little church, and, at the bidding of an angel, he 
 erected the monastery of " The Valley of the Two 
 Lakes," which was the parent of many others. 
 St. Saviour's Monastery is on the opposite side 
 of the river. Here are also Kevin's Cross, 
 Kevin's Kitchen, St. Mary's Church, Rhefert's 
 Church, and other ruins." 
 
 All these traditional spots are very interesting, 
 and St. Kevin's Bed may be seen at the upper 
 lake. There is a superstition that a wish made 
 here will be fulfilled. 
 
 On our return to Rathdrum a change of 
 clothing, supplemented by a glass of " Irish 
 
60 The British Isles 
 
 Mountain Dew," counteracts any tendency to 
 take cold after our wet excursion. 
 
 We meet here, as elsewhere, the well-known 
 Irish wit, who has an answer ready for all ques- 
 tions, and who triumphs over his opponent in 
 repartee. 
 
 The first thing we do on awakening this 
 Sunday morning is to look out the window for 
 the weather indications. Alas, the rain is coming 
 down in torrents. We must go to Avoca, and the 
 question is, Shall we travel by rail or coach? 
 The road is most attractive. We wait, hoping it 
 will clear. Yes, it does look brighter, and we 
 order a close carriage with two horses. A vehicle 
 appears which, I am sure, has not seen the day- 
 light for a twelve month, and we start for Avoca, 
 a distance of seven or eight miles. We have not 
 gone far when our driver, a bright typical Irish- 
 man, stops his horses, jumps out in the rain and 
 comes to the carriage door to tell us that here is 
 the first "Meeting of the Waters" where the 
 Avonbeg and Avonmore Rivers unite and flow 
 
Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 61 
 
 down the vale under the name of the Avoca — 
 that this is the spot mentioned by Thomas Moore 
 as the " valley so sweet.' ' We are in the valley of 
 Cronbane, and have the pleasure of being shelt- 
 ered for five minutes under the noble oak which 
 shaded the poet when he wrote his famous verses : 
 
 There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet 
 As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ; 
 Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, 
 Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart. 
 
 Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene 
 Her purest of crystal and brightest of green ; 
 •Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill, 
 Oh ! no, — it was something more exquisite still. 
 
 'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near, 
 Who made each dear scene of enchantment more dear, 
 And who felt how the best charms of nature improve, 
 When we see them reflected from looks that we love. 
 
 Sweet vale of Avoca ! how calm could I rest 
 
 In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best, 
 
 Where the storms that we feel in this cold world 
 
 should cease, 
 And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace. 
 
62 The British Isles 
 
 The railway runs through the Vale of Avon- 
 dale, following the Avonmore River, which it 
 crosses several times, affording exquisite glimpses 
 of scenery, and passing the old copper and sulphur 
 mines. Standing below the bridge, and looking 
 up and down river and dale, wood and hill, we 
 have a picture of rare beauty at this junction of 
 the Avonmore and Avonbeg. From this point 
 may be seen, airily poised on the mountain top, 
 the beautiful Castle Howard, the seat of Howard 
 Brooks. This enchanting spot is most inspiring. 
 It really seems that if one would yield himself 
 up to the spirit of the place, thoughts would flow 
 in such poetry as that which has already won 
 the plaudits of the world. I do not know, how- 
 ever, what effect the present deluge might have 
 upon the ardors of a poet. 
 
 Moving on to Avoca, we soon reach an attract- 
 ive hotel/The Wooden Bridge,' ' where we engage 
 rooms for the day and night. Just below the hotel 
 there is a second " Meeting of the Waters," where 
 the River ^ughrim flows into the Avoca. 
 
Dublin, Bray, Picturesque Ireland 65 
 
 We ride about this lovely country for sev- 
 eral hours in a jaunting car. To-morrow we will 
 make our way to New Ross, en route for Cork. 
 
 Before bidding farewell to this beautiful, yes, 
 very beautiful region, we ascend the mountain at 
 the back of the hotel, in company with an agree- 
 able Englishman, also a guest here. On the 
 summit we have a fine view of the Vale, and a 
 magnificent prospect of four mountains, a scene 
 utterly beyond description. 
 
 Farewell, sweet Vale of Avoca ; thy beauty 
 is far greater than all the words that have been 
 written in thy praise. 
 
Mountains and Lakes — 
 
 Old Castles and Towns. 
 
Mountains and Lakes — Old Castles and 
 Towns. 
 
 An Irish Liberal — Arklow — Shelton Abbey — A Norman 
 Castle — Enniscorthy — New Ross — Irishtown — The 
 Steamer Ida— Waterford— The Top of the Hill— An 
 Old Shanty — Cork — Patrick Street and Bridge — 
 "The Bells of Shandon " — Blarney Castle— The 
 Blarney Stone — A Scotch Lassie — Bantry — Glen- 
 gariffe — St. Swithin and Rain — On the Road to 
 Killarney — Tunnels — Kenmare — The Black Valley 
 — The Upper Lake. 
 
 HE train is fully an hour late, in conse- 
 quence of an accident at the station 
 above Avoca. While waiting for it we 
 engage in conversation with an old Irish Liberal 
 standing by ; a firm believer in the G. O. M. 
 He is a brave old fellow ; very staunch and true. 
 When I remark upon his boldness in expressing 
 himself so freely, he replies that England is free 
 in that respect. 
 
 Our first station is Arklow, one of the most 
 
jo The British Isles 
 
 important fishing places in Ireland. About a 
 mile and a half farther on is the entrance to the 
 demesne of Shelton, with its beautiful mansion, in 
 the Abbey-Gothic style, surrounded by a fine 
 park. Here, it is said, James II. spent a night 
 during his memorable flight to Waterford, after 
 the battle of the Boyne. 
 
 Passing stations Covey and Ferns, with a 
 view of Vinegar Hill in the distance, we approach 
 Enniscorthy. An old Norman castle of fine 
 architectural beauty looms up near us. This is a 
 very pretty country. While not in such a 
 high state of cultivation as the region about 
 Dublin, it possesses a charm that captures the 
 heart of the traveller. Enniscorthy is a thriving 
 town, pleasantly situated on the River Slaney, in 
 the midst of a smiling country. The old Norman 
 castle in its centre was founded, it is said, by 
 Raymond le Gros. In the reign of Elizabeth 
 it was given to the poet Spenser as a residence, 
 and was finally granted to Wallop, the founder of 
 the Portsmouth family, who are lords of the soil. 
 
Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. j$ 
 
 New Ross, seventeen miles from Enniscorthy, 
 is a good town of more than six thousand inhabi- 
 tants, situated on the River Barrow. Its ancient 
 name is derived from the Irish word Ros, denot- 
 ing a wooded point overhanging the river. 
 
 We arrive here at 4.30 p.m., and proceed to 
 the Royal Hotel. 
 
 Although the rain is falling fast, we engage a 
 jaunting car, and clad in waterproofs, go forth to 
 see the town. This is necessary, as we leave 
 early to-morrow, by the steamer Ida, for Water- 
 ford. Our ride is well worth a ducking, for what 
 we see here will never be forgotten. In New 
 Ross are ancient houses, many of them doubtless 
 several hundred years old, of one story, with 
 stone floors, and in many of them stalls, which 
 seem to have divided the family or families. 
 Ragged and dirty people now inhabit these 
 quarters, which are known as " Irishtown." 
 
 With some difficulty I obtain photographs of 
 the most interesting places passed in our drive. 
 This is a grand opportunity for studying old and 
 
74 The British Isles 
 
 typical Irish faces. These weather-beaten old 
 men and women are most interesting. 
 
 Leaving New Ross we sail down the River 
 Barrow. It is a lovely day. The country along 
 this winding stream is picturesque, although many 
 of the homesteads are in a neglected condition — 
 sad evidence of the poverty of their owners. 
 
 In a couple of hours we behold, in the dis- 
 tance, the town of Waterford, and soon find our- 
 selves upon its shore. Now, our first questions 
 are : " When do we leave?" and " How shall 
 we go ? " 
 
 Our tickets carry us from Waterford to 
 Cappoquin, thence by steamer down the Black- 
 water River to Youghal, and by rail to Cork : 
 but we learn that the Blackwater is a small 
 stream, and the steamer can make the trip only 
 at high tide. To go by this route we must remain 
 over night at Cappoquin, and take the boat in 
 the morning. This does not suit us at all. Upon 
 inquiry, we ascertain that we can take a train 
 from Waterford this afternoon, change cars at 
 
Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. 75 
 
 Fermoy and Mallow, and arrive in Cork this 
 evening. Having decided on this course, we 
 have several hours before us, so we go through 
 the usual programme ; that is, take a jaunting car 
 and see the town. 
 
 In many of the villages and towns in the 
 South of Ireland, the women wear a shawl 
 thrown over the head, in place of a hat or bon- 
 net. The custom is almost universal in these 
 localities. 
 
 Driving along the quay, the first object of 
 interest to us is the ruin of an old tower, called 
 " Reginald's Tower." The name Waterford, or 
 the " Ford of the Father," was bestowed upon 
 the town by the Danes. The place seems to 
 have existed from a very early period, but it 
 did not assume importance until the middle 
 of the ninth century. The town, situated on 
 the Suir, here crossed by a wooden bridge of 
 thirty-nine arches, was anciently known as the 
 " Haven of the Sun," and afterwards as the 
 " Valley of Lamentation/ ' from the tremendous 
 
76 The British Isles 
 
 conflicts which took place here between the Irish 
 and the Danes. Reginald's Tower on the Mall, 
 is on the site of the Danish stronghold founded 
 by Reginald, son of Imar. In 171 1, when the 
 town was seized by Strongbow and Raymond 
 le Gros, all the Danes were put to death with the 
 exception of the Prince and a few others. 
 
 There is a good quay here and an attractive 
 park ; also a Protestant church and a handsome 
 Catholic edifice. The old clock is a fine piece of 
 architecture. From its isolated position its face 
 can be seen from a great distance. 
 
 Although the quay is many blocks in extent, 
 the principal business portion is confined to the 
 radius of a few squares. There are many old 
 stores, of little interest to the visitor. The people 
 move slowly, and seem to lack utterly our 
 "American rush." From the quay we drive to 
 the top of the hill for a view of the town. 
 As we ascend, we pass through the very old 
 part of Waterford, and see many stone houses of 
 one story, and such ancient dried-up specimens 
 
Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. 79 
 
 of humanity peering through the windows and 
 standing in the door- ways, that we seem to have 
 come across a generation born at the time of the 
 erection of their houses, several hundred years 
 ago. 
 
 We reach Cork safely shortly before nine 
 o'clock in the evening, and go to the Royal 
 Victoria Hotel. This morning we drive about 
 the city ; now along the quay, which, at points 
 here and there, shows signs of considerable 
 activity ; now through the grounds of Queen's 
 College, which are beautifully laid out, and 
 extend over many acres. The college is an 
 imposing granite structure. Now we are on 
 Patrick Street, the principal shopping street of 
 Cork. Here is Patrick's Bridge, a good substan- 
 tial piece of architecture. 
 
 Along the Sunday Well Road to the top of 
 the hill we go, and have a fine view of the city. 
 There are many beautiful churches in view ; the 
 Cathedral of St. Finn Barr is the handsomest of 
 these. There are also numerous large convents, 
 
80 The British Isles 
 
 schools, and other institutions in Cork, and, as 
 the population is somewhat less than a hun- 
 dred thousand, it is astonishing that the place 
 has been enriched with so many fine buildings. 
 But we learn that the institutions are patronized 
 by the adjoining counties, and are well filled at 
 all times. 
 
 From the hill-top we see in the distance Cork 
 Harbor, and now St. Vincent's Chapel and 
 School ; and now the Church of Shandon, made 
 famous by the poem of the Rev. Francis Ma- 
 honey— " The Sweet Bells of Shandon : " 
 
 " With deep affection 
 And recollection, 
 I often think on 
 
 Those Shandon bells, 
 Whose sounds so wild would 
 In the days of childhood, 
 Fling round my cradle 
 
 Their magic spells. 
 
 '• I have heard bells chiming 
 Full many a clime in, 
 Tolling sublime in 
 Cathedral shrine ; 
 
Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. 83 
 
 While at a glib rate 
 
 Brass tongues would vibrate, 
 
 But all their music 
 
 Spoke nought like thine." 
 
 We take the tramway to Blarney Castle, 
 which we reach after a pleasant but not especi- 
 ally interesting ride of an hour. A guide with 
 lighted candle leads us through the subterranean 
 passage, where we see many small dungeons — 
 horrible and dismal places, and cruel mementos 
 of that barbarous age when a lifetime spent in 
 those gloomy depths was no uncommon punish- 
 ment. Blarney Castle was a lordly place in the 
 days of its glory, commanding a fine view over 
 lake and meadow, and the famous Groves of 
 Blarney. Now the walls, from eight to ten feet 
 thick, are a mass of ivy-covered ruins, and hap- 
 pily there are only the landmarks of its places of 
 torture, by which to measure the world's progress 
 in civilization and education. 
 
 Of course we see the wonderful Blarney 
 Stone, which is said to impart the gift of elo- 
 
84 The British Isles 
 
 quence to him who kisses it. The stone hangs 
 at such a dizzy height that it is almost impossible 
 to reach it, but I resort to an expedient, since 
 "All is fair in love and war." Touching the 
 stone with the end of my stick, I kiss that, and 
 now feel gifted with enough Blarney words to 
 bear me through the remainder of this earthly 
 existence. 
 
 This evening we attend a play at the Cork 
 Opera House, and are disappointed in the drama, 
 the acting and the actors, as well as in the audi- 
 ence. Everything is second-rate. This is the 
 only opera house or theatre in Cork. 
 
 While at Blarney Castle we met a young 
 Scotch lady from Ford Loch Awe, near Loch 
 Gelphead, thirty miles from Oban. She was 
 very entertaining, telling us that Scotland is such 
 a "ferry pretty place," and that we would like 
 her people, whose hospitality to strangers is such, 
 that once their confidence is won, they become 
 true and lasting friends. 
 
 We start this morning for Bantry, on our 
 

 
 u *>,_ fe 
 
 
 
 
 ,,„.. ". 
 
 
 „ p /' «M 
 
 -••-■' -.-A 
 
 J 1 
 
 ■ 
 
 ■q 
 
 Blarney Castle was a lordly place in the days of its 
 
 GLORY ' ' 
 
Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. 8y 
 
 way to Glengariffe. The train makes a long stop 
 at Bandon — long enough for dinner — but when 
 we reach the next station, which is named Desert, 
 we wait hardly a minute, which brings forth many 
 puns from the passengers, who declare that it is 
 hardly fair, as the dessert is often the most lin- 
 gering and delightful portion of the meal. 
 
 At Bantry a large stage waits to take us to 
 Glengariffe. Fourteen passengers beside our- 
 selves " pile in," and away we go. The road 
 wanders through some pretty scenery, now 
 loitering along the bank of a mirror-like lake, 
 now winding up the mountain side, till at last we 
 halt before Roche's Hotel at Glengariffe. Of 
 course we have had wet and dismal weather 
 during the whole ride, and even now it is still 
 raining. 
 
 The hotel is clean and attractive in all its 
 surroundings, and we find many pleasant people 
 here. Although it rains, and the ground is not 
 very agreeable for walking, we cannot stay in, 
 for we long to explore the loveliness for which 
 
88 The British Isles 
 
 this place is noted ; so, protecting ourselves 
 against the weather, we sally forth upon the path 
 directly in front of the hotel, which faces the 
 lake. As we stand beside this water, which is 
 a miniature of beauty, we hear the plashing of a 
 fall, and inquire of some boys standing by where 
 it is. They all, and there are six of them, vol- 
 unteer to guide us to it. We assent gladly, and 
 soon find ourselves in the midst of a picturesque 
 scene. These walks should be named Lovers' 
 Walks, for here Nature has done her utmost to 
 render these secluded bowers enchanting in color 
 and environment. We wander along this charm- 
 ing bank until we come to a romantic little bridge, 
 poised high up in the mountain, fully thirty feet 
 above the water, which flows under it to the 
 greater fall. 
 
 We leave with reluctance this delightful spot, 
 this lovely glen, where all is serene and full of 
 rest and peace, but on the morrow we start early 
 in the morning for Killarney, a journey of forty- 
 two miles, to be accomplished by stage. 
 
Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. 91 
 
 The Irish have great faith in the superstition 
 associating St. Swithin with the rains at this time 
 of the year. This is the legend : 
 
 St. Swithin, Bishop of Winchester, when 
 dying, requested to be buried in the churchyard 
 of the Minster, that " the sweet rain of heaven 
 might fall upon his grave." Later, when he was 
 canonized, the monks thought to honor the saint 
 by removing his body into the choir, and the 
 15th of July was set for the ceremony; but it 
 rained on that day, and for forty days afterwards, 
 so violently that the monks gave up their design 
 as contrary to the will of Heaven, and instead 
 of removing the body, they showed their venera- 
 tion by erecting a chapel over his grave. Hence 
 the adage, " If it rains on St. Swithin's Day it 
 will rain for forty days." As the forty days will 
 end on the 24th of the month, it is predicted that 
 we shall soon have fine weather. We would 
 love dearly to see a clear day in Ireland. 
 
 From Roche's we are driven in a trap to 
 Eccles' Hotel, where we take the " coach and 
 
92 The British Isles 
 
 four" for Killarney. There are sixteen other 
 passengers for the same destination. 
 
 The signal is given, the driver cracks his whip, 
 and off we go in fine style. It is unfortunate 
 that the day is rainy, as this will spoil much of 
 our anticipated pleasure in the landscape around 
 us. The horses go well, the party is a jolly one, 
 and the driver entertains us with stories and droll 
 speeches in answer to our many questions. We 
 pass many interesting places as we ride merrily 
 along ; among them Lord Bantry's demesne at 
 Glengariffe, and as the road ascends, in spite of 
 the rain, we have glimpses of magnificent scenery. 
 Here, too, are quaint pictures of country life; 
 and here are men driving pigs and horses, evi- 
 dently on their way to market. Here is a pictur- 
 esque church in a pretty bit of landscape. 
 
 Several wagons drawn by "jacks," or don- 
 keys, appear, each wagon containing one or two 
 women and five or six children, beside the driver, 
 and in every case the "jack " takes the trick as 
 the cleanest of the party. 
 
Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. 95 
 
 Most of the houses on the roadside are built 
 of stone, but only one here and there is attractive 
 or interesting. Now we pass through a tunnel 
 cut through a picturesque portion of the mount- 
 ain, and this proves to be the first of a series of 
 three, each surpassing the former in romantic and 
 beautiful surroundings. There is a great halloo 
 and shouting as we pass in and out of these tun- 
 nels, responded to by mocking shouts and laugh- 
 ter from our invisible friend, the echo. We climb 
 higher and higher, until we have attained an 
 altitude of 1500 feet. A magnificent view here 
 meets our eyes. Although it is raining, and 
 there is a mist on the mountain top, we can see 
 enough of the extensive prospect to excite our 
 enthusiasm to the highest degree, and exclama- 
 tions of " Magnificent !" " Superb !" " Sublime!" 
 and the like are heard on all sides. Yonder is a 
 little house nestling snugly on the mountain side, 
 well sheltered from the cold winds of winter and 
 the severe storms of summer. We ascend the 
 mountains, sometimes ride long distances on the 
 
96 The British Isles 
 
 summit, and descend on the opposite side. 
 Though the people of this section of the country 
 may possess little of worldly wealth, here are 
 roads that should make old Philadelphia blush 
 with shame. There is not a rut or hole visible 
 anywhere. 
 
 Time passes swiftly in social converse, and 
 many of the passengers relate interesting experi- 
 ences of their sojourn in foreign lands. Shortly 
 after twelve o'clock we reach Kenmare, where 
 we are allowed three-quarters of an hour for 
 lunch. As we alight.we see the words " Hotel and 
 Restaurant" over the windows of a very modest- 
 looking house. Here, then, we must satisfy our 
 hunger. The meal is abundant of its kind, but 
 there is much confusion, in consequence of the 
 demands of all the guests to be waited upon at 
 once, and we all start in to help ourselves. How- 
 ever,order prevails in a short time, and the good- 
 natured Irish lasses pass the fried eggs, chops, 
 ham, potatoes and other viands speedily around 
 the table. 
 
Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. 99 
 
 The little town of Kenmare is pleasantly 
 situated on a bay which some one has said is the 
 most beautiful in all Ireland ; but we have not 
 time to explore its charming surroundings, for at 
 one o'clock we must climb up to our places on 
 the coach and proceed on our journey. 
 
 We have now accomplished about twenty 
 miles, nearly half the distance between Glen- 
 gariffe and Killarney. The clouds lift from time 
 to time and give us fleeting glimpses of this wild 
 and beautiful country. Altogether it is a most 
 delightful ride. 
 
 We pass three gentlemen on their wheels, 
 probably on their way from Killarney to Glen- 
 gariffe, for our driver informs us that this is a 
 favorite route of the cyclist. 
 
 As we are ascending a mountain the clouds 
 suddenly break away and disclose the scene 
 below. A superb picture lies at our feet. This 
 is Coom Dhuv, the Black Valley of Killarney. 
 Off in the distance may be seen many streams 
 shining at the foot of the mountain, their swish 
 
ioo The British Isles 
 
 and rush rising to our ears, and sounding now 
 near, now far away, as the breezes catch them 
 up and bring them to us, or mingle their voices 
 with the wild roar of the mountain torrents. 
 This is a never-to-be-forgotten scene. Farther 
 on the Gap of Dunloe bursts upon us. How 
 shall I describe the wonderfully blended shades 
 of exquisite color that here meet our eyes ? It is 
 indeed impossible. These masterpieces of God 
 are beyond description. 
 
 At every turn new scenes of beauty appear. 
 This gap is the famous gorge in the mountains 
 around Killarney, and this region is the wildest 
 and most beautiful portion of Ireland. The soul 
 of the lover of beauty is satisfied — lakes, mount- 
 ains, tranquil scenes, and weird, rugged, shadowy 
 effects of gloomy grandeur, smiling, joyous, 
 laughing, frolicsome moods of Nature, all pass 
 before us in infinite and magnificent variety. 
 
 We have a full view of the Upper Lake, and 
 see in the distance the next tunnel through which 
 we will pass. Here our driver tells us that the 
 
Mountains, Lakes, Old Castles, etc. 103 
 
 mountain opposite is Eagle's Nest. It is fitly 
 named : a noble eyry for a noble bird. 
 
 We are now on the Kenmare Road, and near 
 the end of our journey. The Earl of Kenmare, 
 we learn, owns large estates here and in Kil- 
 larney, hence we frequently hear such names as 
 Kenmare Castle, Kenmare Woods, etc. 
 
 At last we turn from the main road on which 
 we have passed through Killarney, and enter the 
 long lane on our left, which leads to the Royal 
 Victoria Hotel, and it is five o'clock when we 
 enter its hospitable doors. 
 
The Gap of Duriloe — 
 
 Romantic Ireland. 
 
The Gap of Dunloe — Romantic Ireland. 
 
 The Royal Victoria Hotel — Ross Castle — To the Gap — 
 Kate Kearney's Cottage — Fairy Glen — Serpent Lake 
 — St. Patrick's Cottage — Macgillicuddy's Reeks — 
 Five Islands — The Long Range — " The Happy 
 Family" — Shooting the Rapids — The Old Bridge — 
 Toothache Bridge — Bricken Bridge — Devil's Island 
 — Muckross Abbey — Colleen Bawn Rock — Tore 
 Mountain — Limerick — The Theatre Royal — River 
 Shannon — Kilrush. 
 
 fflpFSBJ is fortunate that we telegraphed for a 
 E*§ 33 room here, for many tourists who did 
 not take this precaution have been turned 
 away. The short walk in front of this hotel can 
 hardly be surpassed in beauty. The hotel itself 
 is very attractive, and its genial manager provides 
 good cheer for his numerous family. In the 
 dining-room there is a long table capable of 
 accommodating fifty-two persons, besides the 
 many small tables. The service is first-class. 
 After resting, we take a walk through a por- 
 
 107 
 
108 The British Isles 
 
 tion of the Earl of Kenmare's grounds, and 
 wander on till we come upon the old Ross Castle, 
 from which there is a fine view. This is a pic- 
 turesque ruin, covered with ivy, the ancient home 
 of the O'Donoghues, and filled with historical 
 associations. There are here beautiful views on 
 every side. It is hardly necessary to say that we 
 were caught in a shower. Anticipating this, we 
 are prepared for it. 
 
 To-day we rise early, for the day is fine, and 
 we have on hand the most important excursion 
 of Killarney — a trip to the famous Gap of Dunloe. 
 We are to proceed by car and on foot or horse- 
 back, and wind up with a row on the lake back 
 to our hotel. This expedition will occupy about 
 eight hours. Our car is waiting before the hotel, 
 and we start at ten o'clock. A drive of eleven 
 or twelve miles brings us to the entrance of the 
 Gap. During the latter part of this ride we are 
 besieged by innumerable old men and women, 
 girls and boys, who have flowers, photographs, 
 canes and other articles for sale. 
 
The Gap of Dunloe, etc. in 
 
 The Gap is a wild ravine through the mount- 
 ains, with rocks on either side rising to an enor- 
 mous height. Near the entrance an unattractive 
 cottage is pointed out as the home of the beautiful 
 Kate Kearney. Here one may, if he wishes, 
 refresh himself with a drink of goat's milk. The 
 place is so dirty, and the handmaids in charge so 
 untidy, that we do not avail ourselves of this 
 opportunity. Our driver now leaves us, and we 
 find horses waiting for those who care to ride 
 through the Gap and around the mountain to the 
 lake where we take the boat. We are all ready, 
 and off we start. At the very outset we are sur- 
 rounded by women and girls who worry the life 
 out of one with their importunities to buy milk, 
 whiskey, etc. They deluge us with persuasive 
 compliments. One old woman tells me that she 
 has many daughters so beautiful that it would 
 break the heart of St. Patrick himself to see them 
 leave auld Ireland, but I am 'that fascinatin', that 
 she will give me my choice of these fairies of 
 the Gap. 
 
112 The British Isles 
 
 The scene is one of great grandeur. The 
 mountains on either side, dark, wild and barren, 
 rise to a height of twenty-seven hundred feet. 
 The path by which we ascend is steep and narrow. 
 Now and then the ladies stop their horses to 
 give us a breathing spell. When they turn to 
 look for us they find us the centre of a group 
 of young girls, who merrily try to sell us some- 
 thing to eat or drink. 
 
 No words can do justice to the scene around 
 us. The enormous boulders and the crystal 
 waters of the lake, each add an individual charm 
 to our surroundings. Here is Fairy Glen, and 
 here is Serpent Lake, where, according to tradi- 
 tion, St. Patrick vanquished the last snake in 
 Ireland. The legend runs thus : When St. 
 Patrick banished the snakes, one old serpent 
 resisted, but the saint overcame it by cunning. 
 He made a box and invited the serpent to enter 
 it. The serpent insisted that it was too small, 
 and there ensued so much contention over the 
 matter that the serpent at last crawled into the 
 
The Gap of Dunloe, etc. 1 1 5 
 
 box to prove that it was right ; upon which 
 St. Patrick slammed down the lid and threw the 
 box into the lake. 
 
 In confirmation of this legend, I may here 
 state that we have tramped over bog and moss, 
 and through the most tangled underbrush, with- 
 out perceiving the slightest evidence of the 
 fanged intruder in this country. Glory and 
 honor to St. Patrick, and may no iconoclast 
 grudge him his meed of praise. 
 
 The cottage of the Saint stands at the road- 
 side, and here whiskey and some kinds of fruit 
 can be purchased by the wayfarer. While rest- 
 ing here we hear soft sweet music, which is 
 caught up by the echoes, and repeated over and 
 over again in fairy-like tones. When they 
 appear, the musicians, however, are anything but 
 fairy-like. 
 
 We gaze long and silently at the scene. It 
 inspires one with new thoughts to view these 
 wonders of Nature : the massive rocks, the 
 mountains, the lake ! The intense stillness which 
 
u6 The British Isles 
 
 surrounds us leaves upon the mind a strange 
 and dreamlike impression, as of existence in 
 another realm. 
 
 We continue the ascent until the mountain 
 top is reached, and here we have an extensive 
 view of the Reeks, which stretch away for miles, 
 till the cottages seem mere specks on the mount- 
 ain sides. Descending on the opposite side, we 
 pass many simple cottages, from whose doors 
 children run to us for pennies. 
 
 A pleasant walk of a mile or so brings us to 
 the Upper Lake, where a large boat and two 
 oarsmen are waiting to convey us to our hotel. 
 We are somewhat fatigued with our five-mile 
 tramp, and quite ready for the large hamper of 
 good things sent to us from the hotel. 
 
 Our companions on this trip are a young 
 vicomte and his wife, who are making their 
 bridal tour. They are both agreeable and 
 entertaining. 
 
 Near the lake is a very pretty cottage, for- 
 merly the property of Lord Brandon, now owned 
 
The musicians, however, are anything but fairy-like 
 
The Gap of Dunloe, etc. 119 
 
 by Mr. Herbeit, the holder of thousands of 
 acres in this part of the country. 
 
 We are rowed slowly over the lake, passing, 
 among others, five picturesque and celebrated 
 islands, known as McCarthy's, Rowland's, Eagle, 
 Duck and Juniper. These islands are covered 
 with magnificent trees, and afford a great variety 
 of wonderful views. 
 
 The Lakes of Killarney are set as in a bowl, 
 in the hollow of the lofty mountains, whose bare 
 summits are constantly swept by storms from the 
 Atlantic. They are as a whole otherwise called 
 Lough Lean, from being surrounded by high 
 mountains. The trees which grow by these 
 waters are the oak, yew, birch, hazel, mountain 
 ash, and others, the greenest and most beautiful 
 of all being the magnificent arbutus, which gleams 
 out amid the forests, and haunts one with its 
 vitality, when the tramp of the long day is done, 
 and its pictures come back to rest with us in the 
 twilight. 
 
 Yonder is the Purple Mountain, rising more 
 
120 The British Isles 
 
 than twenty-seven hundred feet above the sea. 
 Its purple effect is caused by the abundance of 
 slate protruding from its sides, and in the sunlight 
 it presents a truly royal appearance. On the 
 opposite side is Tore Mountain, nearly eighteen 
 hundred feet high. Here are Colman's Eye and 
 Colman's Leap. Colman was once lord of the 
 Upper Lake ; in a quarrel with the O'Donoghue, 
 being closely pursued by his adversary, he made 
 the famous leap over the lake which has given 
 his name to this point. 
 
 We are now on the Long Range, that beauti- 
 ful body of water which connects the Upper and 
 Lower Lakes, and which is sometimes called the 
 Middle Lake. The mountains towering above 
 us in their immensity make us feel our insignifi- 
 cance. The old boatman tells us that these 
 mountains are called "The Happy Family," as 
 they never fall out or have trouble. 
 
 We are under the shadow of Eagle's Nest, 
 noted for its beautiful echo. We have no bugle 
 to arouse the sleeping spirit of melody, but we 
 
The Gap of Dunloe, etc. 123 
 
 call forth the famous voices again and again in 
 our own merry way, and listen to their repeti- 
 tions with ever-increasing delight. 
 
 Now we are about to shoot the rapids under 
 old Weir Bridge. There is some little excitement, 
 although this is not a dangerous experiment, as, 
 for instance, shooting the rapids at Niagara. We 
 glide through the water swiftly and safely. This 
 old bridge is said to be the most ancient one in 
 Ireland. Tradition carries it back to mythical 
 ages. 
 
 And here again is the " Meeting of the 
 Waters," as they flow around Dinish Island, upon 
 which there is a pretty little cottage for the con- 
 venience of visitors. 
 
 In the distance is a small wooden bridge, to 
 which, we are told, is attached the superstition 
 that whoever washes his teeth with the water that 
 flows under it will never suffer from toothache. 
 Of course we all make use of this wonderful 
 remedy while passing under the bridge. If a 
 tourist with a kodak should happen along at this 
 
124 The British Isles 
 
 moment, he might obtain a curious picture. A 
 lady from our hotel informs me that she suffered 
 greatly from toothache until availing herself of 
 this prescription. Since then she has been per- 
 fectly free from it. The bridge is known as 
 " Toothache Bridge." 
 
 This mountain scenery is wild and pictur- 
 esque. Deer and rabbits abound here ; also 
 pheasants, quails and other game. The country 
 is romantic as we approach the old Brickeen 
 Bridge. Much has been written of the beauty 
 of this locality, and indeed too much cannot be 
 said in praise of any portion of this region. We 
 are in the midst of a series of rich and varied 
 views, of which each new one seems more 
 charming than the last. Our hotel is now 
 directly opposite on the Lower Lake, and four 
 miles and a half distant. 
 
 Devil's Island is one of the many small 
 islands around us. I do not know the origin of 
 the name, but suppose, from the appearance of 
 the rocks, that at some period they have been 
 
The Gap of Dunloe, etc. 127 
 
 subjected to intense heat. Perhaps they have 
 served as a soup bowl for his satanic majesty. 
 
 At last we are at home again, at half-past 
 five in the afternoon, a little weary in mind and 
 body, but all declaring that this has been a 
 " Red Letter " day, the very best we have spent 
 since we set foot on good old Irish soil. The 
 entire day has been clear and pleasant, a rare 
 thing at this season. 
 
 This afternoon we make a little tour in a 
 jaunting car, going first to Muckross Abbey in 
 the demesne of Captain Herbert. By paying a 
 shilling we gain admission to the beautiful 
 grounds and the old abbey, which was founded 
 in 1 340 by the Franciscans on the site of an 
 ancient church. There are many old tombs 
 here, and such names as O 'Sullivan, M'Carthy, 
 O'Donoghue are frequently seen. Here is Col- 
 leen Bawn Rock, recalling to our minds the play 
 of this name which we saw in Cork. The scene 
 was laid in this region. 
 
 Tore Mountain is our next destination. 
 
128 The British Isles 
 
 Before proceeding thither we have a fine view of 
 the mountain from Dinish Cottage. Upon reach- 
 ing the foot of the mountain, we are surprised to 
 learn that we must each pay sixpence for admis- 
 sion. However we are becoming accustomed 
 to this gentle reminder of the poverty of these 
 land kings, so paying the fee, we ascend the 
 mountain. The first object to claim our atten- 
 tion is the cascade, a large stream of water, leap- 
 ing from its eyry and rushing with roar and foam 
 over the broken ledges of rock, amid green trees 
 and luxuriant foliage, to its bed among the grace- 
 ful ferns below. On each side precipitous rocks, 
 covered with luxuriant foliage, and close by on 
 the left rises the mountain, from whose height 
 we have a magnificent view, embracing miles upon 
 miles of country. The distant trees and other 
 objects appear like mere specks upon the picture. 
 We enjoy the fine prospect and pure atmos- 
 phere for some time, and, descending, observe 
 the remarkable collection of natural ferns and 
 other plants for which this spot is noted. 
 
The Gap of Dunloe, etc. 131 
 
 This morning, when the hotel " bus ' ' drives 
 up to the door to carry passengers to the railway 
 station, we respond regretfully to our names on 
 the roll of those who are leaving beautiful Kil- 
 larney, with its delightful walks and rides, and 
 picturesque lakes and mountains. At 11.30 we 
 start for Limerick, en route for Kilkee. 
 
 In order to take the steamer trip down the 
 River Shannon, we remain over night at Lim- 
 erick, stopping at the Glentworth Hotel, whose 
 accommodations are only fair. 
 
 Limerick, a small place of about forty 
 thousand souls, offers little to interest visitors. It 
 is divided into three parts — the Irishtown, the 
 Englishtown, and Newtown Perry, which are 
 connected by bridges. The main street of New- 
 town Perry is a long and handsome one. We 
 take a car for a short ride about the place. The 
 old Thomond Bridge and King John's Castle are 
 the most noteworthy objects, but our limited 
 stay leaves us no time for them. 
 
 This evening we pay three and fivepence each, 
 
132 The British Isles 
 
 and seat ourselves in the best seats in the bal- 
 cony of the Theatre Royal, curious to see a play 
 in old Limerick. This is the only theatre in 
 town, and a queer place it is. The curtain rises 
 at exactly eight o'clock, but the audience, num- 
 bering about fifty or sixty persons, makes no 
 demonstration at this fact, the men keeping their 
 hats on, and even smoking in the gallery above 
 us. 
 
 The play is not badly rendered, but the 
 orchestra amuses us more than the acting. It is 
 composed of five would-be musicians — leader, 
 first and second violin, pianist, cornetist, and flute 
 player. They begin with a discord, and the 
 leader calls to the flute player that he is not in 
 time; then, loudly enough to be heard by the 
 whole audience, he orders the second violin to 
 play G sharp. Finally the discord is such that 
 the leader stops playing and begins to tune one 
 of his violin strings, while the other players con- 
 tinue their jargon of unmusical sounds. The 
 leader frequently calls out : " One — two — three," 
 
The Gap of Dunloe, etc. 133 
 
 keeping time with his bow, and trying to make 
 them play in harmony. 
 
 This is to us the most laughable farce, while 
 to the audience the orchestra is, without doubt, 
 the Sousa or Gilmore Band of Limerick. The 
 entertainment reminds me of an anecdote told 
 me in this country. A minister invited some 
 visitors to his church, remarking that they had a 
 " fool " (full) choir, and that good singing might 
 be expected. Is the Limerick orchestra also a 
 " fool" orchestra? 
 
 This morning we bid farewell to the ancient 
 town, and board the steamer Shannon, for our 
 trip down the beautiful river which divides the 
 counties of Limerick and Clare. The Shannon 
 is from four to seven miles wide. It is a glorious 
 river, broad and deep, flowing a distance of two 
 hundred miles from its source to the sea, and 
 watering ten Irish counties. The scenery near 
 Limerick is very beautiful, the day is fine, and in 
 the deep blue sky heavy white clouds form 
 mountains upon mountains, until one could 
 
134 The British Isles 
 
 almost imagine himself viewing the Arctic 
 regions. The captain sits beside us and tells 
 many stories of the victims this great body of 
 water has made of the foolhardy. 
 
 At 12.45 we reach Kilrush, the end of our 
 voyage, and here we have two hours before 
 taking train for Kilkee. 
 
 What an ancient and dirty-looking place this 
 is ! Here, indeed, one sees " the w T ide waste of 
 all-devouring years." At the junction of three 
 streets, about forty old men and women, dressed 
 in rags, are selling potatoes, apples and cabbages, 
 which are piled up in the street and quickly 
 measured out to those who wish to purchase. 
 The shops are dusty and dingy, and the children, 
 with rare exceptions, look as if water is as great 
 a stranger to them as is their good sovereign. 
 
 So we learn by comparison the progress of 
 the different nations, and observe in its superior 
 march in the realms of intellect, which is destined 
 to be queen of all the nations. 
 
Kilkee, Galway, Gifden, Sligo, 
 by Rail and River. 
 
Kilkee, Galway, CUfden, Sligo, by Rail 
 and River. 
 
 Kilkee — The Cliffs — Dunlicky Castle and Bishop's Island 
 — "Evicted Houses" — The Main Street — Caves of 
 Kilkee — Keeping the Sabbath — Galway — Eyre 
 Square —Church of St. Nicholas — Salmon Leap — 
 Fish Market— Salt Hill— On the Road to Clifden— 
 The New Railroad —Rainbow — Clifden — On the Way 
 to Westport — Letterfrack — Kylemore Castle — Lee- 
 nane — Westport — Ride to Sligo — The Rapids — 
 Ballysodare — Sligo — Lough Gill — Our Old Driver — 
 The White Donkey — Stories by the Way — Drum- 
 cliffe Round Tower — Cliffs on the Glencar — Going 
 for Turf — Bundoran. 
 
 ,IME is up, and we are on the road to 
 
 ) Kilkee, a distance of nine miles, which 
 
 is soon accomplished. This is the end 
 
 of our day's journey. We drive with our grips 
 to Moore's Hotel, which is considered the best 
 in the place. As we leave for Galway at half- 
 past eight to-morrow morning, we must see as 
 much of this town as possible in the intervening 
 
 137 
 
138 The British Isles 
 
 time. It faces the broad Atlantic, and is deemed 
 one of the most charming watering-places in Ire- 
 land, being surrounded by beautiful cliff scenery. 
 
 We ride some fifteen miles in a jaunting car, 
 around by the cliff or ocean side, and home by 
 the banks of the Shannon. The scenery by the 
 cliffs is most grand. One should see these rocks 
 to appreciate them. I can give no idea in words 
 of the impression made by the vast space below 
 us. Seen from the steamers that pass this way, 
 these perpendicular rocks, towering high above 
 the water's edge, seem like giant sentinels guard- 
 ing the pretty town. In winter the spray is so 
 great that it is impossible to walk on this road, 
 and during some of the storms it is said to be 
 blinding. 
 
 We observe queer nooks and caves in the 
 rocks, worn by the constant beating of the waves. 
 The largest cave is about two miles from the 
 town, and is best visited by boat. The entrance 
 to it is sixty feet in height, and we are told that 
 its interior is very beautiful. 
 
Kilkee, Galway, Clifden, Sligo 141 
 
 Interesting points abound in this neighbor- 
 hood. As we ride we come upon a fine view of 
 the town of Kilkee, and a charming picture it 
 makes, with the rocks and ocean in the fore- 
 ground. In the distance is Bishop's Island, with 
 many sheep grazing on its fine pasturage. As we 
 approach Dunlicky Castle, we note the massive 
 strength of its walls, which have withstood the 
 winds and storms of ages. Tradition says the 
 mortar was mixed with cow's blood ; hence its 
 great power of adhesion. 
 
 In many places these picturesque caves run 
 clear through the masses of rock. We pass 
 several houses in ruins on our way back to the 
 hotel, and are told by our driver that they are 
 " evicted houses," the tenants having been turned 
 out for being unable to pay the rent. On the main 
 street some few signs of life are visible, for here 
 are the various shops and other business places. 
 An old farmer goes along before us with his 
 wagon and pen of hogs, and here is another with 
 a load of peat or turf; passing from one curious 
 
142 The British Isles 
 
 and often pitiable sight to another, we frequently 
 exclaim : " Why do not these poor souls leave 
 this distressed country and seek better homes in 
 America? " 
 
 This morning, Sunday, I try to persuade an 
 old boatman to row us through the caves of 
 Kilkee, one especially, which is said to be grand 
 beyond description ; but he will not do so for 
 any Compensation that I may offer : " No, not 
 for fifteen pounds," as he expresses it. I ask 
 why there is such a superstition about going 
 through the caves on Sunday, and am informed 
 that many years ago there was a period when 
 the fish seemed to shun this coast, and there was 
 great distress among the people in consequence. 
 The fishermen, fearing they were going to lose 
 forever their means of livelihood, sought in a 
 body the advice and assistance of the Catholic 
 Church. Ten bishops were sent to Kilkee, to 
 intercede with the Creator for the restoration of 
 the fish to this coast. The fishermen assembled, 
 and as the bishops besought the Lord to return 
 
Kilkee, Galway, Clifden, Sligo 145 
 
 to these poor souls their only means of subsist- 
 ence as in past years, the men solemnly promised 
 to keep the Sabbath in holy reverence forever. 
 From that day, it is said, God restored their 
 treasure, and the fishermen have kept their vow. 
 Nothing can induce them to move one jot on the 
 Sabbath. 
 
 We leave Kilkee on the morning train for 
 Ennistymon, thence, in consequence of heavy 
 rains, we proceed by rail to Galway, although 
 our plan was to travel from Ennistymon to 
 Ballyvaughan by jaunting car, and take the 
 steamer over the bay to Galway. So we journey 
 via Athenry to Galway, arriving at 2.30 p. m., 
 and take up our quarters at Mack's Royal Hotel. 
 As usual, we start out almost immediately in a 
 jaunting car, to view the sights of the town. 
 There is much to interest us here. Galway pre- 
 sents a strange mixture of poverty and prosperity. 
 There are many untenanted and ruined houses 
 here, while in the main streets there are new and 
 fine-looking shops, new thoroughfares being 
 
146 The British Isles 
 
 opened up, and modern villas erected in the 
 suburbs. Here and there we see traces of Span- 
 ish architecture in odd gate-ways and square 
 court-yards. Eyre Square, in the heart of the 
 town, is a large enclosure, laid out in walks, and 
 planted with trees, and close by is the church of 
 St. Nicholas, in a corner of which is the notable 
 tablet commemorating that Warden of Galway 
 who, according to tradition, assisted at the execu- 
 tion of his own son. This is a fine old building, 
 containing some interesting monuments, and a 
 picturesque view of the town and its environments 
 may be seen from its steeple. 
 
 Lynch' s Castle, in Shop Street, is one of those 
 ancient dwellings, whose fine and curious sculpt- 
 ure and noble coat of arms evince the former 
 grandeur of this place. The ground floor is a 
 grocery store, the windows and doors are orna- 
 mented with rich carving, and upon the roof are 
 gargoyles to throw off the water. These quaint 
 buildings and the primitive ways of some of the 
 people render this a delightful place to visit. 
 
We have never seen their like before 
 
Kilkee, Gal way, Clifden, Sligo 149 
 
 We pass several boat clubs, among them the 
 Royal Club ; and here is the Salmon Leap, where 
 the fish are caught in great numbers with line 
 and net. The old fishermen may be seen at the 
 fish market at Salt Hill. On our way thither we 
 pass the steamer which runs across Galway Bay. 
 It is called The Citie of Tribes. 
 
 Before we reach Salt Hill, which faces the 
 bay, we come to the Claddagh, close by the 
 harbor, which is inhabited by a purely Celtic 
 population, numbering about four thousand. 
 They are all fishermen, and it is impossible to 
 conceive of a more curious, ancient-looking 
 place. People, houses, everything connected with 
 this spot seem old, excepting the fish exposed 
 for sale. 
 
 The town is composed of miserable cabins of 
 mud and stone, the great number of them window- 
 less. They are now having a fish sale, and it is 
 an odd sight. I have obtained a few photographs 
 of these typical old folk of Ireland. They are 
 so interesting to us that I tear we transgress all 
 
150 The British Isles 
 
 the rules of etiquette in our wondering observa- 
 tion, for we have never seen their like before. 
 
 It is the hour at which the long jaunting car 
 leaves Galway for Clifden, a journey of fifty-two 
 miles. Bidding farewell to this peculiar place, 
 we start off with six other passengers. 
 
 The gentleman and lady beside us are Glas- 
 gow people, from whom we learn much regard- 
 ing routes, etc., which will prove useful when 
 travelling in their country. Our car is the mail 
 car. A railroad between Galway and Clifden 
 was finished only six weeks ago, but as the con- 
 tract with the coach line has not yet expired, the 
 latter still carries the mail between the two cities. 
 As we plod along in our primitive way, we hear 
 the shrill whistle of a locomotive, and see the 
 train speeding over the new road, and, viewing 
 the two modes of travel, the old and the new, I 
 am impressed with the perseverance and progress 
 of man, in pushing capital into quarters so firmly 
 stamped with the spirit of antediluvianism. 
 
 The road is exceptionally good, though hilly 
 
Kilkee, Galway, Clifden, Sligo 153 
 
 in places. We are surprised at the great quantity 
 of stone in this region. Field after field, for 
 many miles, is filled with this serious obstacle to 
 agriculture. Here is a long deep cut, through 
 which the new railroad passes. The scenery 
 along the whole route is picturesque and full of 
 interest. At times the rain comes down, dampen- 
 ing our ardor somewhat, but taking it altogether 
 we are as jolly and happy as though the sun was 
 master of the situation. 
 
 Ahead of us loom the "Twelve Pins," a 
 grand collection of tall mountain peaks on either 
 side of the road. At this point the sun peeps 
 out for a few moments, and its reflection on the 
 mist forms one of the most perfectly arched 
 rainbows that I have ever seen. It is in blocks 
 of pure color, as though one has taken his brush 
 and painted solid lines of blue, green, yellow 
 and red. 
 
 So many lovely scenes pass before us that 
 the eye is almost wearied by the constant succes- 
 sion of picturesque views, 
 
154 The British Isles 
 
 The day is raw and chilly, and, though it is 
 anti-temperance, one finds a little " nip " very 
 comforting in the face of a wet ride, but we reach 
 Clifden in time for a good hot supper at Mul- 
 larkey's Hotel, and soon " Richard's himself 
 again." 
 
 In Clifden itself there is little to interest the 
 stranger. It is built at the centre of " one of 
 those numerous indentations in the land which 
 give the name Connamara, that is, Bays of the 
 Sea." At the back of the town rise the moun- 
 tains, while in front is the Bay of Ardbear, and 
 beyond, the Atlantic Ocean. Yet we could pass 
 a few days here very happily had we the time. 
 Clifden Castle is a rather fine-looking building, 
 modern in style, standing in the valley among 
 sheltering trees, and here the scene is one of 
 great beauty. The cliffs overlooking the bay 
 tempt us to linger within sight of the boundless 
 sea and purple hills. 
 
 We are called at seven this morning, for we 
 are to breakfast at eight, as our car leaves at 
 
Kilkee, Galway, Clifden, Sligo 157 
 
 nine o'clock sharp for Westport, some forty-two 
 miles distant. The day is damp and there is so 
 much mist that we all fear there is rain ahead, 
 but the ride is fine, in spite of these disadvantages. 
 We make a short stop at Letterfrack, a small vil- 
 lage, pretty, neat and comfortable looking, which, 
 it is said, owes its prosperity to the Society of 
 Friends, who have reclaimed a great part of the 
 surrounding country. 
 
 Now we come to a wild mountain pass, 
 where the rocks are piled up to a great height, 
 and in many places jut far out over the road. 
 There is a dense growth of trees extending from 
 base to summit. Soon after we find ourselves 
 within sight of the beautiful and picturesque 
 Kylemore Castle, the residence of Mr. Mitchell 
 Henry. The scene here is superb. The lake 
 lies in front of the handsome structure, while in 
 the background are lofty and precipitous moun- 
 tains. Nothing can be more romantic. The 
 mountains about here are fully two thousand feet 
 high. The illustration shows the castle as seen 
 
158 The British Isles 
 
 from our car. The picture is one which cannot 
 soon be forgotten. 
 
 For many miles the road is bounded by- 
 hedges made of fuchsias. At one o'clock we 
 stop at Leenane, where we are allowed a half 
 hour for dinner. There is a cosy little hotel 
 here, and we soon find provisions to which we 
 do ample justice. Fresh horses are put in, and 
 we are away again along the road amid fine and 
 extensive views. We follow Lake Killery for 
 many miles, now and then seeing a fisherman 
 hauling in his net or fishing from a boat. The 
 wild and rugged aspect of the neighboring moun- 
 tains imparts a grandeur to this portion of the 
 country which is wholly its own. At times it 
 rains quite fast ; then the clouds seem to lighten, 
 and we have hopes of clearing weather. But 
 these hopes are not fulfilled ; it rains during the 
 remainder of the journey. 
 
 What a damp party we are : wraps, coats, 
 gloves, hats, umbrellas, everything, dripping as 
 we draw up before the spacieus Railway Hotel at 
 
Kilkee, Galway, Clifden, Sligo 161 
 
 Westport. The rooms in this hotel are utterly 
 disproportionate in size, what they call a " large " 
 room being twenty feet by sixty, while the 
 " small" ones are six feet by ten (why, the Irish 
 architect alone knows). When asked which kind 
 of a room we wish, we inquire if there is not a 
 happy medium that we can have, between the 
 two. But this is impossible, so we content our- 
 selves with the " large " chamber. It seems 
 wild and " eerie," and throughout the night 
 
 " a thousand fantasies 
 Begin and throng into my memory, 
 Of calling shapes and beckoning shadows dire, 
 And airy tongues that syllable men's names, 
 And sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses." 
 
 Westport is an uninteresting town, and we 
 do not wish to remain here longer than is neces- 
 sary to recover from the fatigue of the long ride 
 from Clifden. We take the Midland Great West- 
 ern Railway for Ballina, and arriving there in due 
 time, proceed to Moy's Hotel. After lunching, 
 we take our places in the large jaunting car that 
 
1 62 The British Isles 
 
 leaves for Sligo, forty-six English miles distant. 
 This is a delightful ride. Many picturesque 
 mountains are on our right, while on the left we 
 have charming glimpses of the ocean. 
 
 This northern section of the country is under 
 better cultivation, and the soil is much richer 
 than the southern districts. Here are many pigs, 
 " the gentlemen who pay the rent." Now and 
 then I jump off the car and walk. The road is 
 very interesting, as one after another, the mile- 
 stones on our left appear and vanish in the dis- 
 tance. Our horses, though slow, are sure, and 
 although there are clouds, we have no rain — 
 which is a blessing. 
 
 Passing over a small bridge, and making a 
 turn in the road, we come upon the Rapids 
 Ballysodare which fall into the bay over a series 
 of rocky ledges, forming a beautiful picture. In 
 the distance we behold the town of Sligo and a 
 portion of Lough Gill. 
 
 Some of these Irish towns present lovely 
 views as we approach them. The different 
 
We have an old driver, full of Irish wit and history 
 
Kilkee, Galway, Clifden, Sligo 165 
 
 church spires, rising above the other buildings, 
 silently impress one with the Christian atmosphere 
 of the community. Crossing the old Sligo 
 Bridge, we drive through Knox Street, and at 
 last halt before the Imperial Hotel. A rather 
 attractive hall meets our eyes ; rooms are 
 assigned us, and after a good supper, we retire 
 for the night. 
 
 The regular mail jaunting car leaves Sligo at 
 6.30 a. m. and at 3 p. m. One hour is too early, 
 the other too late for us, so our accommodating 
 host engages a private car to take us to Bundoran, 
 twenty-three miles distant. The fare for a small 
 one-horse car is sixpence a mile. We start off 
 with all our traps at ten o'clock. It is a magnif- 
 icent day. While clouds float in the sky, they 
 form themselves into beautiful effects, and there 
 is enough blue to make several pairs of trousers, 
 so we are confident that the weather will favor 
 us. The prospect is beautiful, both near and 
 distant. Majestic mountains, rising to wonder- 
 ful heights, impress us more and more with the 
 
1 66 The British Isles 
 
 supreme power of the Heavenly Father, who 
 sustains and beautifies His creations for the joy 
 of His children. 
 
 While the country engages our attention, it 
 does not monopolize it, for we have an old 
 driver, full of Irish wit and history. 
 
 "On every point, in earnest or in jest 
 
 His judgment and his prudence and his wit 
 
 Were deem'd the very touchstone, and the test 
 Of what was proper, graceful, just and fit." 
 
 He more than answers all our questions. 
 What a success he would be in America as the 
 serio-comic man. On the way we pass a field 
 in which a white donkey is grazing. 
 
 "That donk'," he says, pointing to it, "is a 
 fortunate baste." 
 
 " Why so ?" is asked. 
 
 " Well," says the old driver, " do you see 
 that house on the fir hill ?" 
 
 We see it. 
 
 " In that house lived an old man, who all his 
 life had a great likin' for that white donk'. About 
 
1 
 
 ~¥$ 
 
 Sp 
 
 
 1 - % * 
 
 
 i 1 
 
 1 jl 
 
 l§& 
 
 
 1 *^^^^gj 
 
 
 
Kilkee, Galway, Clifden, Sligo 169 
 
 two year ago the old man died, and, would ye 
 belave it, he willed a pace of ground to the old 
 donk'. Yes, ye can see it on yer left. That field 
 is to be the donk's as long as Mr. Donk lives. 
 And from that day to this, I have passed that 
 white donk', and never a bit of work have I seen 
 him do, an' shure I'm tellin' yez the truth." 
 
 So he goes on from one story to another, 
 sometimes relating events that happened " over 
 yon," when he was a boy. " Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 Shure, I must tell yez of the time when we had 
 the big blow on yonder mountain. I was 
 walkin' along one morning when I met old Paddy 
 O'Hea. Sez Paddy, sez he : ' Good mornin', Dan.' 
 " Sez I to Paddy : ' Good mornin' to yez.' 
 An' Paddy sez, ' It's a good mornin',' an' sez I 
 to Paddy, ' It's a lyin' yer after.' 
 
 " Then Paddy sez to me : ' Did ye hear the 
 news, Dan ?' 
 
 " ' In faith, I did not, when I was not there.' 
 
 " Sez Paddy : ' It was a smart blow we were 
 havin' last night.' 
 
170 The British Isles 
 
 " Sez I : ' Faith, I- know that.' 
 
 " ' The roof of the old mill blowed off/ sez 
 Paddy. 
 
 " < The divil,' sez I. * Yes,' says Paddy. 
 
 " ' Ha ! ha ! ha ! Shure, what are ye given' 
 me?' sez I. 
 
 " < An',' sez Paddy : ' Ha ! ha ! ha ! Did ye 
 know old Johnny OToole?' 
 
 "'Well did I.' 
 
 " ' Johnny was on top of his hay poil in the 
 field, when the wand caught the poil o' hay, an' 
 carried Johnny two mile yon.' 
 
 " ' Och,' sez I, ' It's lyin' ye are.' 
 " ' In faith it's thrue,' sez Paddy. * Ha ! ha ! 
 ha ! Them was great days.' " 
 
 His stories are numberless, and we are so 
 well entertained that the time passes quickly. 
 
 Here is Drumcliffe with its beautiful round 
 tower, a historic ruin. There is very fine scenery 
 here, with the sea on one side and the mountains 
 on the other. As we approach the Cliffs on the 
 Glencar, the brilliant effect of the sun on the 
 
Kilkee, Galway, Clifden, Sligo 173 
 
 rocks is very striking. We pass many children 
 on donkeys, with baskets on either side, going 
 for turf. The picture on the opposite page is a 
 truthful representation of what one often sees in 
 this section of the country. There are many odd 
 sights, but all are interesting. Ofttimes a small cart 
 drawn by a donkey will go by, with Paddy and his 
 old lady comfortably enjoying their drive. And, 
 so we ride on and on, until our driver points out 
 the town of Bundoran, and we are both glad and 
 sorry that our journey has come to an end, for 
 the day is delightful, the country charming, and 
 our driver has done his best to enliven the way. 
 
Famous Irish Towns and Their 
 Industries 
 
 The Giant's Causeway 
 
Famous Irish Towns and their Industries — 
 The Giant's Causeway. 
 
 Bundoran — Along the Cliffs— Ballyshannon— Falls of 
 Erne— Belleek Pottery — Lough Erne — Crevinish 
 Castle — Devenish Abbey and Round Tower — Ennis- 
 killen — Londonderry — Lough S willy — The Old Wall 
 — Portrush — The Giant's Causeway — Recognizing 
 a Philadelphian — The Organ — Honeycomb — Loom 
 — Lord Antrim's Parlor — The Fan — Keystone — 
 Ladies' Wishing Chair — Old Women — The Chim- 
 neys—The Well— The Giant's Eyeglass — Dunluce 
 Castle — Belfast — The Wanamaker of Belfast — Royal 
 Damask Linen Factory — Ormeau Park — Cave Hill — 
 Irish Hospitality. 
 
 1UR destination is the Great Northern 
 Hotel, which is a short distance from 
 the town. We arrive at ten minutes 
 past one, having been three hours and ten minutes 
 on the way. Our room faces the Atlantic, and 
 if our eyes could penetrate the space between, 
 
 177 
 
178 The British Isles 
 
 they might look upon the dear ones at home, 
 for a straight line stretched across this vast dis- 
 tance, would, I belieye, touch the neighborhood 
 of those we love. 
 
 After luncheon, we wander about the ex- 
 tensive grounds of the hotel. Here we see 
 ladies and gentlemen playing golf, which is the 
 first time we have witnessed the game in this 
 country. The views from the hotel are beautiful. 
 In the foreground is the broad Atlantic, and on 
 every other side mountains upon mountains form 
 scenes of great grandeur. The popular walks 
 are along the cliffs, where many a lovely picture 
 is seen at every turn. The sea is quite turbulent 
 at many points along the base of the cliffs, the 
 waters foaming and dashing against the rocks 
 with such force that they rebound as though shot 
 from a cannon's mouth. We are enraptured 
 with this varied and enchanting prospect. 
 
 "I'm not romantic but upon my word, 
 
 There are some moments when one can't help 
 feeling 
 
Famous Irish Towns, etc. 181 
 
 As if his heart's chords were so strongly stirr'd 
 By things around him, that 'tis vain concealing, 
 
 A little music in his soul still lingers, 
 
 Whene'er its keys are touched by Nature's 
 fingers. ' ' 
 
 A trip has been proposed, by jaunting car to 
 Belleek, thence by a small steamer down Lough 
 Erne to Enniskillen, returning to Bundoran by- 
 train. We start this morning at eleven o'clock, 
 passing through the old village of Bally shannon, 
 a quaint-looking place, where we see many of 
 the people going about barefooted. Here we 
 see the beautiful and picturesque Falls of Erne. 
 After a delightful drive of eight miles, we find 
 ourselves at Belleek, famous for its pottery. 
 Thither we proceed at once, as we wish to 
 observe the process of manufacturing this noted 
 and delicate ware. A young man at the door 
 invites us to enter. He also kindly acts as our 
 guide, and we pass an interesting hour and a half 
 in a tour through the various departments. 
 
 We see first the natural clay, then the refined 
 
1 82 The British Isles 
 
 clay, and the rooms in which the different kinds of 
 clay are ground and mixed. We walk through 
 the department where cups, saucers, plates, 
 pitchers, bowls and vases are moulded and turned 
 upon a lathe in rapid succession : also that in 
 which flowers and other curious ornaments, shells, 
 horns and a variety of designs are shaped. 
 How skilful these workmen are in moulding 
 the many different patterns. In the Painting 
 Room the most delicate tints of all the colors of the 
 rainbow are reproduced, as well as the most brilliant 
 hues . Now we are before the firing ovens in which 
 the ware is hardened, and now in the Glazing 
 Room, and so on until we are bewildered with 
 the intricate manipulations of the process. 
 
 Across the street is a clean comfortable hotel 
 in which we are served with a good dinner before 
 proceeding to the steamboat landing for our sail 
 down Lough Erne. The day is cloudy, but 
 delightful. We have some showers, but one 
 expects these in this country. At 3.15, we 
 board the steamboat, and start on a twenty-two 
 
Famous Irish Towns, etc. 185 
 
 mile excursion down the Lough. Exquisite 
 scenes greet us on right and left. Here is Cre- 
 vinish Castle, ancient and picturesque ; and here 
 are the ruins of the old Devenish Abbey, and 
 close by the Round Tower, said to be the most 
 perfect of its kind in the kingdom, set like jewels 
 upon green Devenish Island, and finally round a 
 turn in the lough, Enniskillen bursts upon us in 
 all its beauty. This town is built upon an island 
 in the river connecting the Upper and Lower 
 Loughs Erne, and partly on the main-land with 
 which it is connected by two bridges. There are 
 many objects of interest in this romantic neighbor- 
 hood, and the town is well worth a much longer 
 visit than our time allows. 
 
 We observe a number of good buildings, two 
 forts commanding the pass across the river, and 
 the remains of the gate-way of an old castle. 
 The situation of the place is ideal, and we leave 
 it with reluctance to take the train back to Bun- 
 doran. This has been altogether a most charm- 
 ing day. 
 
1 86 The British Isles 
 
 Bundoran is a delightful place, and we are 
 sorry to leave it. We have made pleasant friends 
 here, among them an interesting Irish gentleman 
 and his wife, who urge us to spend some time 
 with them at their home. We arrive at Jury's 
 Hotel, Londonderry, this afternoon, and after 
 engaging our room, take the car for Buncrana, 
 a watering-place on Lough Swilly, about an 
 hour's ride from here. 
 
 This is a very pretty place, surrounded by 
 cultivated fields and trees, with a background of 
 hills, rugged, gray and wild. From the remain- 
 ing tower of its ruined castle are magnificent 
 views of the Lough and the surrounding country. 
 Lough Swilly extends thirty miles inland from 
 the Atlantic, and is almost entirely surrounded 
 by land. Returning to Londonderry, we walk 
 around the old wall, from which we have a good 
 view of all parts of the city. From the Walker 
 monument we also have an extensive prospect. 
 A cannon protruding from a port-hole in the 
 Round Tower bears the date 1590. London- 
 
Famous Irish Towns, etc. 189 
 
 deny is famous for its successful resistance to 
 the siege of James II. This siege lasted one 
 hundred and five days, during which, writes an 
 historian, the people were reduced to the direst 
 extremities. The town is situated upon the Foyle 
 River, which is here crossed by a handsome 
 bridge twelve hundred feet in length. It is quite a 
 modern-looking place, with many large buildings, 
 and much trade, for it manufactures linen in large 
 quantities, and possesses besides, ship-building 
 yards, iron foundries, distilleries and breweries. 
 
 At breakfast this morning we meet an agreea- 
 ble Philadelphia lawyer, the first Philadelphian we 
 have been fortunate enough to meet since leaving 
 home. We became acquainted in this wise : 
 When I heard my neighbor ask some one near 
 him to pass him the " preserves," I smiled and 
 said to him : " You are a Philadelphian." He 
 answered in the affirmative, laughing heartily at 
 my means of recognizing a fellow-citizen. None 
 but Philadelphians ever use the word " pre- 
 serves " in speaking of conserved fruit. 
 
190 The British Isles 
 
 We rise in time for another stroll through the 
 city this morning. Lough Foyle, into which the 
 river flows, more than half surrounds the hill 
 upon which this town is built ; the summit of the 
 hill forms a large square, from which the prin- 
 cipal streets diverge at right angles. From the 
 opposite side of the river, there is a very attractive 
 view of the city. A few of the ancient houses 
 with high gables still exist, but they have been 
 altered in many respects, and are not good speci- 
 mens of the old-fashioned residences. There is 
 a spacious harbor, and regular communication 
 by water with Glasgow and several English ports. 
 
 From Londonderry we go on to Portrush, 
 arriving at one o'clock. We have our baggage 
 sent to the Railway Hotel, while we secure seats 
 in the electric tram-car for the Giant's Causeway, 
 three-quarters of an hour's ride from here. This 
 electric tram-way is the first of its kind constructed 
 in the United Kingdom. It was opened by 
 Lord Spencer, September, 1883. 
 
 We are accompanied on this expedition by 
 
Famous Irish Towns, etc. 193 
 
 our friend from Philadelphia and his travelling 
 companion, and we are a lively and congenial 
 party, as we sally forth with our guide to see all 
 that is to be seen. First of all luncheon is in 
 order. After this the guide leads us to the foot 
 of the cliffs, where we engage a boat and two 
 sturdy oarsmen to row us into Port Coon Cave 
 and around the Causeway. The day is fine, and 
 while the ocean is not smooth, it is calm enough 
 to admit of our going into the cave. Here copper, 
 lead and other minerals glisten through the rocks, 
 and the waves dashing wildly against the walls 
 do not add to our feeling of safety in this sub- 
 terranean region. We spend about an hour 
 rowing about, and take a view of the famous 
 Causeway from the water before landing. It 
 appears to be an enormous hill of basalt, com- 
 posed of nearly perpendicular columns, cut in 
 two by a vertical section, and the half next the 
 sea carried away. It extends a vast distance 
 along the coast, and is from three to four hundred 
 feet high. The name Causeway has been given 
 
194 The British Isles 
 
 it in consequence of the immense pavement, as it 
 were, which is formed by the upper edges of the 
 fragments of basalt left here at the bottom 
 of the huge precipice when the seaward half of 
 the basaltic hill was carried away. This pave- 
 ment has been traced into the ocean as far as the 
 eye can see in a clear and calm day. There are 
 three of the pavements, the Great Causeway, the 
 Middle Causeway and the West Causeway. 
 
 We tread upon this most marvellous forma- 
 tion, and as we proceed our wonder increases 
 with every step. Here are columns fitted so 
 closely together, that although each is perfectly 
 distinct, it is impossible to insert the smallest 
 thing between them. There are myriads of these 
 columns composed of short lengths articulated 
 into each other, as a ball into a socket. They 
 are as smooth as if polished and carefully placed 
 by human hands, and are five, six, seven, eight 
 and even nine-sided. 
 
 Before us is a mass of basaltic pillars, with 
 the longest in the middle, gradually shortening 
 
Famous Irish Towns, etc. 197 
 
 towards the sides as the pipes of the organ, from 
 which it has received its name. Here is the 
 Honeycomb, and new wonders follow each other 
 in rapid succession. Now the fluted columns of 
 the Loom rise up forty or fifty feet, and as straight 
 as arrows. Now we are in Lord Antrim's Parlor, 
 and here is before us the Fan formed by Nature's 
 hand. This is the Keystone, and farther on, 
 most important of all, is the Ladies' Wishing 
 Chair, with its legend that whoever wishes within 
 its charmed enclosure will have her (or his) 
 desire fulfilled within the year. Of course we all 
 take advantage of this great opportunity. I 
 wonder how many of our wishes will come true. 
 
 Surrounding the Chair are many old women, 
 who shower blessings upon us, and in return 
 expect us to buy the various articles they have 
 for sale. In the midst of these interesting ob- 
 jects, we look up and see a mass of rock shoot- 
 ing far beyond the main body, and much resem- 
 bling its namesake, the Chimneys. 
 
 Another short walk brings us to the Wishing 
 
198 The British Isles 
 
 Well, with its tradition similar to that of the 
 Ladies' Chair. We all drink of the water, and 
 now are doubly spellbound, with a rich prospect 
 before us. Here is the Giant's Eyeglass, an 
 oblong hole extending quite through the solid 
 rock. A peculiarity of this giant is that he wears 
 no glass in his pince-nez. 
 
 Legends innumerable attach themselves to 
 this remarkable spot. It would be impossible to 
 give one half of them. I will merely relate the 
 most widely-spread tradition regarding the origin 
 of the Causeway. 
 
 Fin MacCool, giant and champion of Ireland, 
 became greatly incensed by the insolent boast- 
 ing of a certain Caledonian giant, who vowed he 
 would vanquish any one who dared to meet him, 
 and who boldly declared that if it were not for 
 the wetting, he would swim over and give Fin 
 himself a good drubbing. This was too much 
 for the Irish champion, who applied to the king, 
 and obtained permission to construct a causeway 
 over the watery space. The Scot walked over 
 
Famous Irish Towns, etc. 201 
 
 and fought the Irishman, and Fin was the victor. 
 With Hibernian generosity he invited his former 
 rival to marry and settle down in the auld coun- 
 try, which the Caledonian was not loath to do, 
 as at that time living in Scotland was none of 
 the best, and every one knows that Ireland was 
 the richest country in the world. When the 
 days of the giants were over, the causeway fell 
 into disuse, and sank under the sea, leaving only 
 a portion visible here, a little at Rathlin Island, 
 ten miles off the coast, and the portals of the 
 grand gate on the Island of Staffa. 
 
 The cave, it is said, was inhabited by a her- 
 mit giant, who, having made a vow never to eat 
 food touched by human hands, was sustained by 
 the seals, who brought him the means of nourish- 
 ment in their mouths. 
 
 On the homeward ride we pass many inter- 
 esting basaltic formations, and many relics of the 
 Irish Champion. Here we have Fin's Punch- 
 Bowl, his face in profile ; also his grandmother, 
 the Giant's Head, the Elephant, the White Rocks, 
 
202 The British Isles 
 
 etc. There are innumerable caves of various 
 shapes, and we feel that we could spend long 
 days exploring the wonders of this most marvel- 
 lous region. Here upon an isolated rock rising 
 steeply over a hundred feet above the sea is 
 Dunluce Castle. It is a roofless ruin, covered 
 with vines, accessible only by a narrow bridge 
 raised high above the water. Its history is lost 
 in the mists of the ages, but it is the subject of 
 innumerable legends and romances. Beneath 
 the rock upon which it stands is a cavern, acces- 
 sible from the sea only at low water. 
 
 On the outskirts of Portrush we perceive 
 many bathers enjoying their dip in the sea. 
 There seems to be much entertainment here, and 
 the waving handkerchiefs and merry voices give 
 evidence of the exhilarating effects of the salt 
 water. And now we are nearing our hotel. 
 Before he leaves us our guide tells us that 
 upwards of a thousand tourists have been known 
 to visit the Causeway in a single day. So pop- 
 ular is Ireland's greatest wonder. To-morrow, 
 
Famous Irish Towns, etc. 203 
 
 if all is favorable, we move onward to Belfast, 
 where we hope to mingle a little rest with our 
 sight-seeing. The wise man remembers the 
 claims of the body and brain while travelling, 
 for at such times the tax on both is great. 
 
 Before leaving this attractive spot, we take a 
 jaunting car and ride around the town, and far 
 out into the suburbs. Portrush is a fashionable 
 watering-place, hence the better class of English 
 and Irish people is well represented here. There 
 is a fine beach here for bathing, and numerous 
 pleasant villas and other buildings of no mean 
 pretensions. There are churches of all denomi- 
 nations to be seen. The scenery along the 
 cliffs is fine, and the views from the headlands is 
 most beautiful. 
 
 We are on the train, the bell rings, and off 
 we start for Belfast. The country around us is 
 very pretty. Farms are under cultivation, and 
 there are signs of order and prosperity every- 
 where. We arrive at Belfast after a delightful 
 journey, and drive to the Grand Central Hotel, 
 
204 The British Isles 
 
 a new house, and the finest in the place. It is 
 situated on Royal Avenue. 
 
 Belfast, the headquarters of the linen trade, 
 is a cheerful place, and its dwellings have a 
 comfortable, prosperous appearance. In the 
 suburbs are many fine villas. The city is 
 full of the vigor and bustle of an American 
 town. There are many good- looking churches, 
 and we are favorably impressed with the archi- 
 tecture of the public buildings and the remarka- 
 ble cleanliness of the streets. We visit the 
 store of Messrs. Robinson & Cleaver, the Wana- 
 maker's of Belfast. This is a great shop. Here 
 is a fine display of goods, including linens of 
 every kind and size, at astonishingly low prices 
 when compared with those in our own city. It 
 is unnecessary to say that we indulged to some 
 extent in these rare fabrics. 
 
 Being interested in the hand looms and the 
 old linen factories, we proceed by tram to the 
 mill of Messrs. Murphy & Orr, on the outskirts 
 of the city, with a letter of introduction from 
 
Famous Irish Towns, etc. 205 
 
 these gentlemen to their foreman. Here we are 
 pleasantly received, and conducted through the 
 old mill, which has been in existence eighty 
 years. Everything is explained to our utmost 
 satisfaction. We pass many other large linen 
 factories on the way thither. 
 
 Saturday being a half holiday, mills and shops 
 are closed at twelve or one o'clock, but we are 
 in time for a number of the stores, which we find 
 very attractive. This afternoon we take a car 
 for a tour of the city and out into the suburbs. 
 We see many fine residences, churches, colleges 
 and other institutions. 
 
 The grounds of Ormeau Park are very beau- 
 tiful. This was originally the demesne of the 
 Marquis of Donegal. It was purchased by the 
 city in 1870. Parties of ladies and gentlemen 
 are playing tennis, cricket and other games. 
 Some are en^a^ed in bowls. Here is a fine 
 bowling-green. We pass the Institute for the 
 Deaf and Dumb, and the Royal Botanic Gar- 
 dens, which are romantically situated on the 
 
206 The British Isles 
 
 Laggan River, and contain the most beautiful 
 flower-beds I have ever seen. Queen's College 
 is a handsome building, six hundred feet long, 
 with a tower a hundred feet in height. The 
 president of this college is the Rev. Henry 
 Cooke, for thirty years the acknowledged leader 
 of the Conservative Party in the north of 
 Ireland. 
 
 Cave Hill is three miles north of the city, 
 and twelve hundred feet above the level of the 
 sea. It derives its name from three caves 
 beneath its surface. The view from the summit 
 is very fine. From this eminence may be seen 
 the town of Belfast and its spacious bay ; also 
 Belfast Castle, a baronial mansion of the Mar- 
 quis of Donegal. Many elegant residences are 
 in this neighborhood. After visiting the vast 
 ship-yards of Messrs. Harlan & Wolff, we return 
 to our hotel over Queen's Bridge, a most pictur- 
 esque structure, spanning the river not far from 
 the terminus of the County Down Railway, with 
 five arches of fifty feet span each. This evening 
 
Famous Irish Towns, etc. 207 
 
 we attend the Belfast Exhibition, a small show 
 and not very interesting. 
 
 Sunday we rest and visit Belfast friends, for 
 to-morrow we leave for Stranraer, Scotland, via 
 Larne. The days now are full of sunshine, with 
 scarcely any rain. 
 
 I cannot bid farewell to Ireland without a 
 tribute to the warm hospitality of a noble Irish 
 gentleman, whose wife and daughter we met at 
 Bundoran. These ladies insisted upon our visit- 
 ing the husband and father at their home in Bel- 
 fast, and accordingly wrote, requesting him to 
 call upon us on our arrival in the city. On 
 Saturday morning Mr. W. appeared at our hotel, 
 and escorted us to many interesting places in the 
 neighborhood, and at parting, invited us to dine 
 with him on the following day. 
 
 We had a most delightful visit. The home 
 of our friend is on a fine estate in the suburbs, 
 where we found a spacious mansion, extensive 
 lawns and beautiful grounds. At the entrance 
 to the long avenue our host met us with a cordial 
 
208 The British Isles 
 
 welcome. We dined at three, and afterwards 
 feasted upon luscious grapes from his hot- 
 houses. Then the carriage was brought around, 
 and Mr. W. and his sister took us through a 
 picturesque portion of the country, Mr. W. him- 
 self driving the fine spirited horses. We were 
 out about two hours ; on our return tea was 
 served, and we were not allowed to leave until 
 the old clock in the hall struck seven. Such 
 genuine hospitality to utter strangers has made 
 a deep and lasting impression upon us. Here 
 we have seen what is far beyond the beauties of 
 scenery — the warm open heart of the true Irish 
 gentleman. 
 
The Land of Burns — 
 
 Glasgow — The Trossachs. 
 
The Land of 'Bums — Glasgow — The 
 Trossachs* 
 
 Lame — Stranraer — The Land of Burns — Ayr — Burns' 
 Cottage— The Monument — Relics of the Poet — Pic- 
 tures — Glasgow — Origin of the Name — Royal 
 Princess Theatre — About the City — The Cathedral 
 —West End Park— James Watt— The Clyde— Loch 
 Lomond — The Trossachs — Inversnaid — Loch 
 Katrine — Rob Roy's Hut — Stronachlachar — Ellen's 
 Isle — Our Coach — Loch Ard. 
 
 E leave Belfast on the 9.05 train, and 
 
 reach Larne at 10 o'clock. There is a 
 
 delightful view of Lough Larne from 
 
 the car window. Many pleasure-boats may be 
 
 seen on this placid body of water. The town is 
 
 beautifully situated, and like most of the old 
 
 places here, has its ruined castle, which was at 
 
 one time an important defensive fortress. But 
 
 we have little time for observation, as we make 
 
 close connection with the steamship line here, 
 
 and our luggage is quickly transferred to the 
 
 211 
 
212 The British Isles 
 
 Princess May y from whose deck we bid farewell 
 to good old Ireland. 
 
 The water is somewhat rough, and in a 
 short time the spray drives us to the shelter of 
 the cabin. Many passengers are sea-sick. While 
 the sea air is delightful, we are enveloped in a 
 fog, which is by no means pleasant. We reach 
 our destination in a few hours, no doubt to the 
 joy of the others as well as ourselves. On the 
 steamer we make the acquaintance of a young 
 lawyer from Edinburgh, who invites us cordially 
 to visit his family. It is very pleasant to expe- 
 rience such delightful hospitality. We are wel- 
 comed everywhere, and often feel that we are 
 among dear old friends. 
 
 The distance from Larne to Stranraer is thirty- 
 nine miles. This town owes its name to a visit 
 from St. Patrick, who is said to have stepped 
 across from Ireland one day. It appears to be a 
 prosperous place. A large park of several thou- 
 sand acres surrounds the residence of the Earl of 
 Stair, and within this park are the ruins of Castle 
 
The Land of Burns, Glasgow, etc. 213 
 
 Kennedy on slightly elevated ground between 
 two large lochs. Its pleasure-grounds are pre- 
 served in the ancient style, with avenues, groups 
 of plantations, shrubberies, open lawns and slop- 
 ing terraces. It is said to be a favorite resort of 
 tourists. Many rare trees and plants are to be 
 found here, and the pinetum, extending over 
 twenty acres, is one of the finest collections of 
 coniferous trees in Europe. 
 
 We go by train from Stranraer to Glasgow, 
 stopping at Ayr, the birthplace of Burns, which 
 place we reach at half-past two in the afternoon. 
 We find comfortable quarters at the Station 
 Hotel, and after lunching are ready to jump into 
 the landau ordered for a tour of the town. Ayr 
 is on the sea-coast, at the mouth of the Ayr 
 River, and is well laid out. In the Square near 
 the station is a statue of Burns. A few frag- 
 ments of the fort of Ayr, built by Cromwell in 
 1652, still remain, also an old tower which has 
 been remodelled and fitted up as a private resi- 
 dence. The views from the Bay of Ayr are very 
 
214 The British Isles 
 
 fine. The river is crossed by two bridges, the Auld 
 and New — " The Twa Brigs " of Burns' poem. 
 
 Our driver is a good guide, and points out 
 many places of local and historic interest. The 
 little cottage in which Burns was born on the 
 25th o r January, 1759, is about two miles from 
 Ayr. The original building was a " clay biggin," 
 consisting of two apartments, the kitchen and the 
 "spence" or sitting-room. The house was sur- 
 rounded by seven acres of ground. It is now 
 the property of the Ayr Burns' Monument Trus- 
 tees, and is set apart as a museum in which relics 
 of the poet are preserved. Burns' monument 
 stands in the centre of an acre of ground prettily 
 laid out. In an apartment here are exhibited 
 various editions of the poet's works, a copy of 
 the original portrait of Burns, and the Bible 
 given by Burns to Highland Mary when they 
 plighted their troth. From the upper part of the 
 monument is a good view of the surrounding 
 country. The poet's grave is at Dumfries, where 
 he died July 21, 1796. There in the old church- 
 
The Land of Burns, Glasgow, etc. 217 
 
 yard of St. Michael's Church is a mausoleum, 
 beneath whose dome stands a marble group of 
 two figures, representing the genius of Coila 
 finding her favorite son at the plough, and cast- 
 ing over him her mantle of inspiration. 
 
 Ayr is full of the atmosphere of Burns, and 
 our driver is a true lover of the Ayrshire plough- 
 man. After we have looked upon the original 
 manuscript of " Tarn O'Shanter," and later when 
 we are in the graveyard of Alloway Kirk, where 
 Tarn saw the witches, he repeats portions of the 
 poem, acting the most exciting parts with great 
 enthusiasm, as he points out the scene of the 
 events. This unexpected addition to the pro- 
 gramme is very entertaining. 
 
 " Alloway *s auld haunted Kirk" is roofless, 
 but the walls are well preserved, and the bell still 
 hangs in the east end as of old. Here are the 
 Tarn o' Shanter Inn, and the Auld Brig o' Doon, 
 and the scenes which inspired the exquisite lines 
 beginning : 
 
 "Ye banks and braes o' bonny Doon." 
 
2i8 The British Isles 
 
 The Doon is indeed a bonny river, whose 
 banks are said to be always "fresh and gay." 
 The scenes of some of the most popular poems 
 of Burns are also to be found on the banks of the 
 Ayr, near Mauchline. 
 
 From Ayr we continue our journey to Glas- 
 gow, and settle ourselves at St. Enoch's Station 
 Hotel. Glasgow is a great city, representing the 
 commerce and manufactures of Scotland, and 
 commanding an enormous foreign and domestic 
 trade. " The origin and meaning of the name 
 Glasgow has been the subject of much debate. 
 It is a term of Celtic origin and high antiquity, 
 among the numerous and conflicting definitions 
 of which are ' the gray smith,' ' the gray hound,' 
 ' the dark glen,' ' the green wood,' and ' the 
 beloved green spot.' The town has existed from 
 a very remote period, and has played no unim- 
 portant part in Scottish history. The city is 
 built over a coal field, whose rich seams of iron- 
 stone have contributed much to its rapid indus- 
 trial growth. The river Clyde has also been a 
 
The Land of Burns, Glasgow, etc. 219 
 
 source of much of its prosperity and wealth." 
 In 1763 the illustrious James Watt began that 
 memorable series of experiments which resulted 
 in the successful application of steam as a great 
 motive power; and in 18 12 Mr. Henry Bell 
 launched on the Clyde his first steam vessel ; the 
 first steamer not only on the Clyde but in Europe. 
 Glasgow is a handsome town, with broad, well- 
 made streets, and the two sides of the river are 
 here joined by many bridges. Buchanan Street 
 is the principal and most central street, and there 
 are two beautiful parks situated on high grounds 
 and commanding fine views of the city. 
 
 On Tuesday night we attend the Royal 
 Princess Theatre, and are entertained by a 
 spirited rendering of a play entitled " Rob Roy." 
 This morning it rains, and as we have little hope 
 of going out, letter- writing is the order of the 
 day ; but after luncheon the sun comes out, and 
 as there is a prospect of a fine afternoon we 
 engage a hansom and drive along the main 
 thoroughfares, first to the Royal Exchange and 
 
220 The British Isles 
 
 municipal buildings, which are handsome edi- 
 fices, then to the Cathedral. The High Kirk, 
 or old Cathedral of Glasgow, is one of the finest 
 examples of early English undecorated Gothic 
 architecture, and contains specimens of every 
 style practised from the twelfth to the seventeenth 
 century. Behind it the Necropolis rises steeply 
 to the top of the Cathedral, forming a beautiful 
 background to the noble building, for it is cov- 
 ered with picturesque shrubberies and rich monu- 
 ments. We find the interior of the Cathedral 
 well worth our trouble, when, yielding to the 
 persuasion of our driver, we enter its walls. It 
 contains one hundred and forty-seven pillars and 
 one hundred and fifty-nine windows, many of 
 them of exquisite workmanship. The crypt 
 under the choir is superb, unsurpassed, it is said, 
 by any similar structure in Britain. It is now 
 used only as a place of burial. In the south- 
 west corner is St. Mungo's Well, the spot, 
 according to tradition, where the founder first 
 established his cell and church. Sir Walter 
 
The Land of Burns, Glasgow, etc. 221 
 
 Scott has frequently referred to this cathedral in 
 " Rob Roy," and " Rob Roy's Column" is still 
 pointed out to visitors as the spot near which the 
 outlaw stood when warned of his danger. 
 
 West End Park is an exclusive region, envel- 
 oped in a fashionable, conventional atmosphere. 
 Here is a handsome memorial fountain, whose 
 surmounting bronze figure is that of the " Lady 
 of the Lake." Here, too, is a very popular 
 institution, the City Industrial Museum, which 
 has acquired a fine collection, embracing natural 
 history, ethnology, and especially the industrial 
 arts. The view from Hill Head is delightful. 
 From this point may be seen the city, and the 
 Clyde with its forest of masts, and immense 
 steamers which travel up and down the river 
 and connect Glasgow with every part of the 
 world. Ben Lomond also towers up in the far 
 distance, and from the very top of the hill one 
 may behold Glasgow University. 
 
 The following is an extract from the North 
 British Daily Mail of September 12, 1896 : 
 
222 The British Isles 
 
 THE RAILWAY RACE IN AMERICA — ALL 
 RECORDS BROKEN. 
 
 Buffalo, Sept. nth. 
 A special train on the New York Central Rail- 
 road left New York at 5 hours 40 minutes 30 seconds 
 this morning. It arrived at East Buffalo at 1 2 hours 
 34 minutes 57 seconds, having thus covered 436 y 2 
 miles in 6 hours 54 minutes 27 seconds. The actual 
 time of running, exclusive of stoppages to change 
 engines, was 6 hours 47 minutes, and the average 
 speed maintained was 64^ miles an hour. The 
 previous English record was 63^ miles an hour. 
 The weight of the New York Central train was 175 
 tons, while that of the English train was 106 tons. 
 During almost the entire journey the American train 
 was in the teeth of a heavy wind. — Renter. 
 
 To-day we have set for a tour around Loch 
 Lomond, Inversnaid, Stronachlachar, Loch Kat- 
 rine, the Trossachs, Loch Achray, Aberfoyle, 
 and the circular coaching tour around Loch Ard. 
 It is to be one of the " Banner " days of our 
 Scottish trip, and will include travel by railway, 
 steamer, coach and trap. 
 
 We breakfast at seven o'clock, and take the 
 
The Land of Burns, Glasgow, etc. 223 
 
 train at Queen Street Station for Balloch. Here 
 the pretty steam yacht Queen is waiting for us, 
 and after an hour's sail on Loch Lomond, will 
 leave us at Inversnaid. This part of the trip is 
 most delightful, in spite of a heavy shower of a 
 half hour. Loch Lomond is one of the love- 
 liest of the Scottish lakes. At the north its 
 gradually narrowing banks vanish among the 
 dusky mountain gorges, while its southern shores 
 spread and open among the bays and headlands 
 of a beautiful, fertile country. Innumerable 
 picturesque islands of every shape and size render 
 the picture one that can hardly be surpassed. 
 Enchanting scenery surrounds it. The moun- 
 tains towering high on every side, add their sub- 
 limity to the view. No pen can describe, no 
 photograph can give even a faint idea of the 
 beauty that lies about us. It is not wonderful 
 that Scott was inspired with all this wealth of 
 material around him. 
 
 We land regretfully at last, and at Inversnaid 
 find a large coach and four powerful horses wait- 
 
224 The British Isles 
 
 ing to carry us to Stronachlachar. This is a 
 most enjoyable ride ; the air is so pure and invig- 
 orating that the forty-five minutes of its duration 
 pass all too quickly. On the way we see the hut 
 of Rob Roy, and the cottage in which his wife 
 was born. This is the country of Rob Roy. Sir 
 Walter Scott has peopled the Trossachs for us, 
 and given to these wild glens and moors a fan- 
 tastic charm that rivals in interest the bloom of 
 the heather which we see around us for miles on 
 every side. Our driver tells us that grouse 
 abound in this region. 
 
 All about us rise the majestic mountains, and 
 our road carries us so high at times that we 
 almost imagine ourselves bounding over their 
 summits. Now w r e have reached Stronachlachar, 
 at the head of Loch Katrine, where there is a 
 comfortable hotel in which the most persistent 
 appetite of a hungry tourist can be satisfied. An 
 hour later we descend the hill and take the small 
 steamer which can just be seen rounding the 
 bend in the loch. We have many fellow- 
 
The Land of Burns, Glasgow, etc. 227 
 
 passengers on this trip ; from eighty to a hun- 
 dred : some Scotch, the greater number English, 
 and a few American tourists. Loch Katrine is a 
 lovely sheet of water lying at the feet of the 
 rugged heights. It has attained a world-wide 
 fame as the scene of Scott's poem, " The Lady 
 of the Lake." But Wordsworth and other poets 
 have also immortalized this enchanting region, 
 and history lurks in every height and depth and 
 . secret by-way. All is beautiful beyond descrip- 
 tion. Numberless mountains, with many peaks 
 and ridges guard the lake. Ben Lomond is the 
 king of these : rising nearly thirty-two hundred 
 feet above us, and clothed in its rich soft hues of 
 green and brown, it holds watch and ward over 
 the sleeping beauty, a type of everlasting love 
 and protection. On our right is Ben Venue, an 
 enormous mass, gracefully robed in heather and 
 ferns, which have an extremely beautiful effect in 
 the sunlight. This mountain is nearly twenty- 
 four hundred feet high ; Ben Ledi, nearly twenty- 
 nine hundred feet. The name of this mountain 
 
228 The British Isles 
 
 is Gaelic, said to signify " the Hill of God." On 
 our left is Ben A'an, like Ben Venue, excepting 
 in the great conical rocky peak which rises from 
 its summit, and at our feet myriads of sparkling 
 diamonds reflect the sun's rays on the rippling 
 waters of the lake. 
 
 " Every rock has its echo, and every grove is 
 vocal with the melodious harmony of birds." 
 
 Roderick Dhu's Watch-tower is a rocky hill 
 rising several hundred feet from the margin of 
 the water on the southern side. 
 
 Many islands come into view, the most noted 
 of which is Ellen's Isle, a deserted mass of tan- 
 gled wilderness — 
 
 " So close with copsewood bound 
 Nor track nor pathway might declare 
 That human foot frequented there;" 
 
 but never to be forgotten, for it is " linked with 
 a star," and so destined to immortality. 
 
 Our little steamer lands us on the Trossachs 
 Pier, from which point we are to coach through 
 the Trossachs and along charming Loch Achray 
 
The Land of Burns, Glasgow, etc. 229 
 
 to Aberfoyle. As we drive along the beautiful 
 macadamized roads, with the dense masses of pine, 
 birch and other foliage on either side, we seem 
 to be hedged in ; when the road will turn, or 
 where is the next point of exit, is quite puzzling. 
 So lovely and primitive is the scene that one might 
 imagine himself wandering in a veritable fairy-land. 
 We come out through the Pass of the Trossachs 
 upon a magnificent view. A picturesque valley 
 extends for miles and miles before us, bordered 
 by lofty mountains. Just now a mist forming 
 on the summits absorbs the sun's rays, producing 
 a most brilliant rainbow. What more could one 
 desire to render the scene perfect ? A master- 
 piece of the Great Artist. Every one is enrap- 
 tured, and when a fresh view bursts upon us, our 
 driver stops his horses, and inspired by our 
 appreciation, exclaims enthusiastically : " This is 
 our grandest view of all." 
 
 Not so, think I, for all are so sublime in 
 individual beauty, it seems impossible to praise 
 one beyond another. 
 
230 The British Isles 
 
 Now, we come to a very steep hill, and the 
 driver putting on the brakes, with a twirl of his 
 long whip, keeps his horses at an even pace. 
 The road seems dangerous. At times one feels 
 that the coach may overturn, but no, the driver 
 knows his business and his horses, and we turn 
 the corners with ease and grace. Our coach 
 is a beauty ; of solid oak oiled ; four horses, 
 silver mounted harness; and the "Whip," a 
 typical Scotchman, with bright red jacket, and 
 tall white hat; every inch a horseman. We 
 have about twenty-eight passengers. Sud- 
 denly the lines are tightened, our "Whip " 
 shouts "whoa," and we are landed safe and 
 sound at the Bailie Nicol Jarvie Hotel at Aber- 
 foyle at 3.15 p. m. Three other coaches arrive 
 about the same time from the Trossachs. While 
 these latter tourists have " done " the Lakes and 
 Trossachs, and will return to Glasgow and Edin- 
 burgh by the 3.50 p. m. train from Aberfoyle, 
 we are yet to make a tour of thirteen and a half 
 miles by trap, ere we return to Glasgow. 
 
The Land of Burns, Glasgow, etc. 231 
 
 We order lunch, and engage the trap to be 
 ready at four o'clock. Our driver is on hand at 
 the stroke of the hour, and away we go for a 
 ride around Loch Ard. This is a beautiful sheet 
 of water. The remains of Duchray Castle, a 
 rather uninteresting building, appear on an island 
 on the south side of the loch, and we have sev- 
 eral fine views of Ben Lomond. There is also 
 here a water-fall celebrated as the retreat of Flora 
 Maclvor, the heroine of Waverley. Now we are 
 ascending a mountain road, and quite on the 
 summit we see a huge iron pipe projecting from 
 one side. Our driver tells us that this pipe con- 
 ducts the water of Loch Katrine to the city of 
 Glasgow, and that this is the sole water sup- 
 ply of the city. As Loch Katrine lies at a 
 greater elevation than Glasgow, the water has a 
 natural flow, thus saving the city considerable 
 expense. 
 
 After a delightful drive of more than two 
 hours, we alight before the hotel at Aberfoyle, 
 where we are warmed and refreshed by a cup of 
 
232 The British Isles 
 
 tea and some hot toast. At nine o'clock we 
 reach the St. Enoch's Station Hotel, Glasgow, 
 thus completing one of the most interesting of 
 our excursions. Scotland may well be proud of 
 her " bonny Highland Country." 
 
The Highlands — 
 Staff a and Iona 
 
 Fingal's Cave — 
 
 Inverness 
 
The Highlands — Staff a andlona — FingaVs 
 Cave — Inverness. 
 
 Greenock — En route for Oban — Dunoon — Rothesay— 
 Kyles of Bute — Maids of Bute — Tarbert — Crinan 
 Canal — Oban — Castle Dunstaffnage — Staffa — Fin- 
 gal's Cave — The Causeway — Bending Pillars — 
 Fingal's Wishing Chair — Iona— The Street of the 
 Dead — The Cemetery — Ballachulish — Glencoe — 
 Ossian's Cave — Scene of the Massacre — Benavie — 
 Ben Nevis — Fort Augustus — Inverness — The North- 
 ern Meeting — Scotch Pipers — A noted Character — 
 Away to Edinburgh — Scenes on the Journey — Fare- 
 well to the Highlands. 
 
 E leave St. Enoch's Station this morning 
 for Glasgow, arriving at nine o'clock, 
 and immediately taking the steamer 
 Columba for Oban. Dunoon, our first stopping 
 place, is a popular resort on the Clyde, with the 
 ruins of the old, and the modern structure of the 
 new castle overlooking the pier. Our passage is 
 rather squallish, and some of the passengers are 
 sick. On the boat we make the acquaintance of 
 
 235 
 
236 The British Isles 
 
 a young English couple who are taking our 
 identical trip. We at once establish friendly rela- 
 tions with each other. Our next station is 
 Rothesay, well known in ancient history, with its 
 ruined castle, once a residence of the kings of 
 Scotland. Here is a fine esplanade facing the 
 bay and commanding beautiful views. Now we 
 pass through the famous Kyles of Bute, a pictur- 
 esque channel between the mouth of the Clyde 
 and Loch Fyne, separating the Island of Bute 
 from the main-land. From the steamer's deck 
 we can see the " Maids of Bute," a couple of 
 queer-looking stones standing close together, and 
 painted to resemble two old maids sitting upon 
 the mountain side. 
 
 The Scottish hills are very attractive, and 
 this scenery all along the route is quite different 
 from the English and Irish country. We stop 
 at Tarbert for passengers. This is a fishing 
 village, pleasantly situated, but of no especial 
 importance ; still it has its old castle overlooking 
 the harbor, and during the herring-fishing season 
 
The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 237 
 
 an immense number of boats may be seen here, 
 and they have a lively time. At eleven o'clock 
 we reach Ardrishaig, and here bid good-bye to 
 the Cohunba, as she is too large a steamer to 
 cruise up the Crinan Canal. Passengers and 
 freight are transferred to the Linnet, a smaller 
 boat. This journey is delightful. The canal is 
 very narrow. It was made about the year 1 800 
 to avoid the circuitous passage of seventy miles 
 around the Mull of Kintyre, and is nine miles 
 long, having fifteen locks, thirteen of which are 
 only ninety-six feet long, twenty-four feet wide 
 and twelve feet deep. 
 
 The captain tells us if we wish to walk a mile 
 or two, to go ahead of the steamer and enjoy the 
 country while she is passing through some of the 
 locks. This many of us do, and we have a pic- 
 turesque walk. We are impressed with the clean 
 appearance of the houses here, as well as the 
 beauty around us. 
 
 The islands of Islay, Jura and Scarba are now 
 in view, and the whirlpool of Corrivreckin, 
 
238 The British Isles 
 
 caused by the Atlantic tide rushing through the 
 space between Jura and Scarba at eighteen miles 
 an hour. Scarba Mountain is before us, 1470 
 feet high, and beyond it is the noble Ben More, 
 the highest mountain in Mull, 3179 feet. 
 
 The Linnet carries us to Crinan, where we 
 change once more to a large steamer, the Che- 
 valier, and proceed directly to Oban. The 
 scenery all along the route is superb ; huge 
 masses of rock loom up on either side, and the 
 waves dash ceaselessly against them. It is im- 
 possible to forget the grandeur of these sights. 
 The approach of evening adds new beauties to 
 the view. 
 
 This delightful experience is cut short by our 
 arrival at Oban, which is our destination for the 
 next few days. It is five o'clock when we reach 
 the Station Hotel. 
 
 It is a well-known fact that all the station 
 hotels throughout Scotland are under railroad 
 management, and are first-class in every particu- 
 lar. Our experience confirms this statement. 
 
The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 239 
 
 Sunday being clear and pleasant, in company 
 with our English friends, we take a walk of seven 
 miles to Castle Dunstaffnage. This famous ruin, 
 guarding the entrance to Loch Etive, was the 
 seat of Scottish monarchy until the overthrow of 
 the Picts, when Scone succeeded to that honor. 
 A cranny in the castle wall is shown as the orig- 
 inal repository of the celebrated Stone of Destiny, 
 or Lia Fail, which forms the support of the cor- 
 onation chair in Westminster Abbey. It is also 
 called the Dunstaffnage Stone, and the Stone of 
 Scone. I have said before that the ancient Scott- 
 ish kings were crowned on this stone. It was 
 transferred from Dunstaffnage Castle to the 
 Abbey of Scone, and removed to Westminster 
 by Edward I. in 1296. 
 
 The country hereabout is wild and pictur- 
 esque, affording abundant opportunity for excur- 
 sions by car and steamer. The most famous as 
 well as most interesting expedition is that to 
 Stafifa and Iona. It is one hundred and twenty 
 miles by sea, and occupies a day. 
 
240 The British Isles 
 
 The day fixed for our journey thither proves 
 rainy, but that does not deter us, and at eight 
 o'clock in the morning we find ourselves on the 
 large steamer H. M. S. Grenadier, on our way 
 to the noted islands. A rough voyage brings 
 us within sight of Staffa, where we anchor, and 
 are met by a large boat, into which we all, thirty 
 in number, step, and are rowed to the island of 
 the world-renowned Fingal's Cave. We follow 
 our guide over stones shaped much like those at 
 the Giant's Causeway. This is a wonderful spot, 
 almost beyond adequate description. The whole 
 end of the island is supported by natural columns 
 averaging fifty feet in height, and following in 
 their course the indentations of the land. The 
 bases of these colums form the cave, which is 
 lighted from without to its farthest extremity. 
 The upright pillars, which constitute the entrance, 
 are of the most perfect regularity. The waters 
 of the sea are the floor of the cave, and they 
 never ebb entirely out, but beat with violence 
 against the walls, which glisten as if covered 
 
The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 243 
 
 with myriads of diamonds. I will never for- 
 get this sight, nor the roar of the waves 
 dashing their foam in all directions. I quote the 
 following paragraph from Troil's " Letters on 
 Iceland " : 
 
 " How splendid do the porticos of the ancients 
 appear in our eyes, and with what admiration 
 are we seized on seeing even the colonnades of 
 our modern edifices. But when we behold the 
 Cave of Fingal, formed by nature, it is no longer 
 possible to make a comparison, and we are 
 forced to acknowledge that this piece of archi- 
 tecture, executed by nature, far surpasses that of 
 the Louvre, that of St. Peter at Rome, and 
 even what remains of Palmyra and Pestum, 
 and all that the genius, the taste and the 
 luxury of the Greeks were ever capable of 
 inventing." 
 
 It is not strange that legend should name 
 this cave as the abode of a hero. I cannot 
 refrain from repeating also these lines of Sir 
 Walter Scott : 
 
244 The British Isles 
 
 " The shores of Mull on the eastward lay, 
 And Ulva dark, and Colonsay, 
 And all the group of islets gay 
 
 That guard famed Staffa round. 
 Then all unknown, its columns rose, 
 Where dark and undisturbed repose 
 
 The cormorant had found, 
 And the shy seal had quiet home, 
 And weltered in that glorious dome, 
 Where, as to shame the temples deck'd 
 By skill of earthly architect, 
 Nature herself, it seemed would raise 
 A Minster to her Maker's praise. 
 Not for a meaner use ascend 
 Her columns, or her arches bend ; 
 Nor of a theme less solemn tells 
 That mighty surge that ebbs and swells, 
 And still between each awful pause, 
 From the high vault an answer draws, 
 In varied tones, prolonged and high, 
 That mocks the organ's melody. 
 Nor doth its entrance front in vain 
 To old Iona's holy fane, 
 That Nature's voice might seem to say, 
 ' Well hast thou done, frail child of clay ! 
 Thy humble powers that stately shrine 
 Tasked high and hard — but witness mine, 
 
The renowned Fingal's Cave " 
 
The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 247 
 
 From the cave we are led around the Cause- 
 way to view the Corner-Stone, the only square 
 stone on the island. Here also we have a fine 
 sight of the Bending Pillars, columns apparently 
 bowed by the mass of rock above them. On 
 the Causeway is Fingal's Wishing Chair with the 
 usual legend attached, save that here the condi- 
 tion is that three distinct wishes shall be made. 
 
 From the summit of the island may be seen 
 MacKinnon's, or, as it is called, Cormorant's 
 Cave, also Iona with its Cathedral Tower, and 
 farther off Big Colonsay, Islay and Jura, and to 
 the left the Tresnish Islands, Coll, Tiree and the 
 rest. Looking down over the Causeway, the view 
 is wonderful. Pillars and stones of every shape 
 and position, and of every size, are fitted into 
 each other as if by human hands. Having seen 
 this place and the Giant's Causeway, one can 
 readily credit the supposition that both are parts 
 of the same once continuous immense bed of 
 columnar basalt. 
 
 As we leave Staffa, our boat keeps close to 
 
248 The British Isles 
 
 the caves, giving us an opportunity of observing 
 them from the sea. 
 
 At three o'clock we reach Iona, and, as at 
 Staffa, the steamer is anchored and passengers 
 taken ashore in a row boat. As a matter of his- 
 tory, I copy here a brief extract relating to this 
 island : " Icolmkill, or I-Columb-kill, was called 
 by monkish writers Iona, I-signifies Island, which 
 was its original name, until St. Columba having 
 founded a monastery there, it came to be called 
 I-Columb-kill, the island of Columba's cell. Its 
 ancient religious edifices were established about 
 the year 565 by St. Columba, who left his home 
 in Ireland to preach Christ to the Picts. The 
 Church is said to have been built by Queen 
 Margaret, towards the end of the eleventh cen- 
 tury. It is in the form of a cross. In the mid- 
 dle of this cathedral rises a tower supported by 
 four arches, and ornamented by bass-reliefs. 
 Here are the tombs of forty-eight Scottish kings, 
 four kings of Ireland ; eight Norwegian mon- 
 archs, and one king of France. The cell of 
 
The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 249 
 
 Columba became the mother of one hundred 
 monasteries, and here the princes and nobles of 
 Scotland were sent to be educated. It was the 
 favorite sepulchre of the Scotch and Irish 
 kings." 
 
 The word Iona is said to be derived from a 
 Hebrew word signifying a dove ; and the Gaelic 
 Li-hona means the Blessed or Sacred Isle. Tour- 
 ists are led first to the ruins of the Nunnery by 
 the official guide. This was erected about the 
 close of the twelfth century, and is still compara- 
 tively well preserved. The chancel, nave and 
 part of the vaulted roof remain. Within the 
 Church is the tomb of the Prioress Anna, and 
 other defaced monuments. Thence we walk 
 along the " Straid-na-Marbh," or street of the 
 dead, to the burial ground of Iona, called Reilig 
 Oran. Maclean's Cross, which we pass on the 
 way, is one of those Runic crosses for which the 
 island is famous ; it is noticeable for its beautiful 
 scroll carving, and is said to be the oldest cross 
 in Scotland. 
 
250 The British Isles 
 
 In the cemetery we see groups of ancient 
 tombstones, most of them carved in relief, and 
 possessing great antiquarian and historical inter- 
 est. The finest tomb in the burial ground is the 
 memorial slab of the Four Friars. The most 
 ancient structure on the island is St. Oran's 
 Chapel, supposed to have been erected about the 
 close of the eleventh century by Margaret, 
 Queen of Malcolm Canmore, on the site of St. 
 Columba's original cell. Opposite the west door 
 of the Cathedral is the noble monument, known 
 as the Iona Cross, erected to the memory of St. 
 Martin of Tours, who lived in the sixth century. 
 In the Cathedral are innumerable effigies cut in 
 the walls and the stones of the pavement, and 
 inscriptions in ancient characters and in the Latin 
 tongue nearly obliterated by time. In the centre 
 of the chancel is the largest tombstone in Iona, 
 that of Macleod of Macleod. Beside the royal 
 tombs here are also the sepulchres of many Lords 
 of the Isles, bishops, abbots, and priors, as well 
 as Chiefs of the MacKinnons,Macleans,MacQuar- 
 
The Highlands — Fingals' Cave 253 
 
 ries and other clans. The Duke of Argyll has 
 had some excavations made, displaying the orig- 
 inal foundations and plans of the ancient struc- 
 tures, and uncovering many splendidly carved 
 stones, which have lain for centuries beneath 
 masses of rubbish. 
 
 "Lone Isle, though storms have round thy turrets 
 rode, 
 Thou wert the temple of the living God, 
 And taught earth's millions at His shrine to bow, 
 Though desolation wraps thy glories now. 
 Still thou wilt be a marvel through all time 
 For what thou hast been, and the dead who rest 
 Around the fragments of thy walls sublime 
 Once taught the world and harbored many a guest, 
 And ruled the warriors of each northern clime ; 
 Thou'rt in the world like some benighted one, 
 Home of the mighty that have passed away. 
 Hail ! Sainted Isle ! Thou art a holy spot 
 Engraved on many hearts ; and thou art worth 
 A pilgrimage, for glories long gone by, 
 Thou noblest College of all the ancient earth. 
 Virtue and Truth, Religion itself shall die 
 Ere thou canst perish from the chart of fame, 
 Or darkness shroud the halo of thy name." 
 
254 The British Isles 
 
 The town of Iona maintains a large fishing 
 interest, but can boast of very few modern resi- 
 dences. There is much beauty in the rocks and 
 the sandy beach along the shores of the island. 
 Our guide is very solemn as he escorts us from 
 place to place, and relates events and historic 
 details ; and we too, as we realize the meaning 
 of these ancient monuments, are more and more 
 impressed with the wonderful influence once pos- 
 sessed by this little island when made the source 
 from which the light of Christianity spread itself 
 over the northwestern Caledonian regions. We 
 feel that we are on hallowed ground : the conse- 
 cration of the past lingers in its atmosphere, and 
 we are reluctant to leave its awe-inspiring asso- 
 ciations. 
 
 Six o'clock finds us in Oban again, after 
 ten hours spent in visiting the world-renowned 
 islands. 
 
 To-day, notwithstanding the pouring rain, we 
 wend our way to the pier where the steamer 
 Mountaineer awaits passengers for Ballachulish. 
 
The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 255 
 
 This trip is not very interesting, as we steam up 
 Loch Linnhe through mist and rain. At the 
 Ballachulish Hotel we have luncheon and engage 
 a carriage to take us to Glencoe. 
 
 Passing through the village, which is inhab- 
 ited by the workmen of the neighboring slate 
 quarries, and is a pretty little place, we drive 
 along the bank of Loch Leven, surrounded by 
 lofty mountain scenery, which has been the inspi- 
 ration of many poets and authors, and enter the 
 Pass of Glencoe at the bridge where the road 
 skirts the River Coe, between the great Sgor-na- 
 Ciche, 2430 feet high, and Meall Mor, 2215 feet. 
 The spot is wild and desolate, with a dreary yet 
 sublime magnificence. The peculiar character of 
 this glen is the absence of trees. The peaks 
 look like enormous cones, with great channels 
 made in their steep rugged sides by the water 
 courses. The vegetation is sparse, and there are 
 no cattle here, or other signs of life. As we ride 
 onward, we are ever surrounded by these groups 
 of tall stern mountains, in close proximity to 
 
256 The British Isles 
 
 each other. Prominent among them is the 
 majestic Bidean-nam-Bian. Here is Signal Rock, 
 and a beautiful water-fall descending from a lofty- 
 summit is pointed out as " Ossian's Shower 
 Bath," while almost on the mountain top is visi- 
 ble the hollow known as Ossian's Cave. Only- 
 one person, it is said, has attempted the ascent 
 to this cave ; an old shepherd who declared 
 afterwards that he would never repeat the peril- 
 ous expedition. The cave is at an elevation of 
 about two thousand feet. We have reached the 
 scene of the massacre. The carriage halts and 
 we look upon the spot where a dastardly deed 
 of vengeance was accomplished, which has left 
 an indelible blot on the annals of the English 
 nation. The Clan MacDonald were here massa- 
 cred by the English in 1692. The story runs 
 somewhat as follows : " A proclamation had 
 been issued, offering indemnity to such insur- 
 gents as should take the oath of allegiance to 
 King William III., on or before the last day of 
 December. But while most of the chiefs who 
 
The Highlands — FingaPs Cave 259 
 
 had been in arms for James soon took advantage 
 of the proclamation, MacDonald, of Glencoe, 
 was prevented by accident rather than design 
 from tendering his submission within the time. 
 The king, persuaded that the MacDonalds were 
 the main obstacles to the pacification of the 
 Highlands, sanctioned the sanguinary orders for 
 proceeding to military execution against the clan, 
 and the secretary urged the officers in command 
 to use the utmost rigor. Campbell, of Glenlyon, 
 accordingly repaired to Glencoe on the first of 
 February with a hundred and twenty men. Being 
 uncle to young MacDohald's wife, he was 
 received by the chief with the utmost friendship 
 and hospitality, and the men were lodged with 
 free quarters in the houses of the clan. Till the 
 13th of the month the troops lived in harmony 
 and familiarity with the people, and on the very 
 night of the massacre, Glenlyon passed the even- 
 ing at cards in his own quarters with Mac- 
 Donald's sons. In the night Lieutenant Lindsay, 
 with a party of soldiers, called in a friendly 
 
260 The British Isles 
 
 manner at the chieftain's house, and was instantly 
 admitted. MacDonald, while in the act of dress- 
 ing himself and giving orders for refreshments 
 for his guests, was shot dead at his own bedside. 
 The slaughter became general, and neither age 
 nor sex was spared. Several who fled to the 
 mountains perished by famine and the inclem- 
 ency of the season." 
 
 This weird spot is peopled only by the ghosts 
 of the dead. Nothing seems to thrive here, and 
 we are glad to move on to more cheerful scenes. 
 
 We leave Ballachulish, as we entered it, in a 
 pouring rain. We take the steamer Fusilier on 
 the Caledonian Canal as far as Fort William, pro- 
 ceed by rail to Banavie, then change again to a 
 small steamboat, the Glencarry. These boats are 
 all side- wheelers. Here we have a fine view of 
 Ben Nevis looking every inch of its 4400 feet. 
 The magnificent panorama here is indescribable 
 and never to be forgotten : the scenery is wild 
 and picturesque in the extreme. Now our pas- 
 sage is along the River Lochy as far as the lake 
 
The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 263 
 
 of the same name. This is a beautiful body of 
 water, on either side of us are still the moun- 
 tains, covered with forests, while here and there 
 may be seen the crops of the thrifty farmer. 
 
 Now we are on Loch Oich, the centre of this 
 great chain, as well as the most elevated of these 
 lakes, " the Summit Level of the Canal." It is 
 about four miles in length and a quarter of a 
 mile wide, and several pretty green islands 
 adorn its bosom. From the loch to the River 
 Oich, and on till we arrive at Fort Augustus 
 are four consecutive locks, through which 
 our little steamer must pass. This occupies an 
 hour : we all go ashore during the process, 
 and make purchases of candy, milk and other 
 refreshments. 
 
 Fort Augustus is a pretty village, deriving 
 its name from the military fort built in 1729 to 
 intimidate the Highland clans. There is but little 
 of the old fort left to-day, and on its foundations 
 now stands St. Benedict's Abbey and School, a 
 most imposing monastic institution. The village 
 
264 The British Isles 
 
 is situated at the southwestern extremity of Loch 
 Ness, and we have a long, delightful ride on this 
 lake, with a fine view of the famous cataract of 
 Foyers. These falls, for there are two falls, about 
 a quarter of a mile apart, are called the " Fall of 
 Smoke," in consequence of the misty vapor which 
 they send up. The lower fall descends in a sheet 
 of dazzling spray of snowy whiteness into a deep 
 basin surrounded by huge towering rocks. The 
 upper fall is broken in its descent, and an arched 
 bridge spans the chasm. How we enjoy the 
 pure air and beautiful scenery of this western 
 Highland country. The afternoon has cleared up, 
 and the sun shines on the mountain tops. 
 
 We pass many typical Scotch scenes, and at 
 last arrive at Inverness, and the Palace Hotel 
 there. We feel that fortune favors us when we 
 learn that the autumn meeting of the Highland 
 games is to be held here to-day and to-morrow. 
 This occasion is known as " The Northern 
 Meeting." What luck ! 
 
 Various clubs and ladies and gentlemen from 
 
The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 267 
 
 all parts of the country come to witness these 
 games, and well they may, for the finest talent 
 and skill in this line of exercise are here brought 
 into competition. 
 
 We enter the grounds at one o'clock, and 
 find about five thousand people assembled, among 
 them, doubtless many of the nobility, besides 
 other celebrities. The games last from one o'clock 
 until six, and prove very entertaining. Our hotel 
 gives a grand dinner in honor of the many society 
 leaders who are here. A fashionable ball is also 
 given in the evening; tickets, one guinea for 
 gentlemen, two guineas for ladies. We do not 
 join this part of the entertainment. I copy here 
 an extract from the Edinburgh Scotsman, describ- 
 ing these events : 
 
 "The leading event in the Highland season 
 began at Inverness yesterday. Competitions in 
 piping, dancing, and in athletics generally, with 
 a couple of cycle races thrown in as a conces- 
 sion to the spirit of the times, were held in the 
 Northern Meeting Park, and were patronized by 
 
268 The British Isles 
 
 an enormous crowd of people. The weather was 
 favorable, although somewhat chilly for the time 
 of year. In the afternoon the sun came out with 
 welcome brightness, and a large crowd of fash- 
 ionable people followed its example. 
 
 " The competition in Pibroch playing occupied 
 several hours, no fewer than seventeen pipers 
 taking part in it. Their playing was, on the 
 whole, not so good as has been heard at the 
 meeting in former years, and as only a few of 
 the competitors showed outstanding merit, the 
 judges had little difficulty in distributing the 
 awards. The coveted gold medal was won by 
 Murdo Mackenzie, piper to Mr. Butter of Fask- 
 ally, who played The Battle of Waternish. Alex- 
 ander Mackenzie, Resolis, the second prizeman, 
 played ' I got a Kiss from the King's Hand.' 
 
 "The dancing was better than the piping, 
 and needless to say was more appreciated by the 
 majority of the people present. 
 
 " John M'Neil, Edinburgh, had the first prize 
 for the fling, and Pipe Major Sutherland, Inver- 
 
A PRIZE DANCE 
 
The Highlands — Fingal's Cave 271 
 
 gordon, had the first for the sword dance, the 
 competition being confined to the Northern 
 counties. With hardly an exception the athletic 
 events were confined to competitors resident in 
 the North, and the result was that some of them 
 were not quite so interesting as they would have 
 been, if open to all comers. No records were 
 broken, although contests were keenly entered 
 into. 
 
 " The ball last night was a brilliant affair, 
 and was exceedingly enjoyable, the pipers who 
 had won prizes at the games, playing for the 
 Highland dances." 
 
 One can hardly imagine what a band of 
 twenty pipers is until he hears them playing 
 together. When accustomed to their peculiar 
 music, it sounds sweet and harmonious. 
 
 Inverness, the " capital of the Highlands," 
 is situated, as its name implies, at the mouth of 
 the river Ness, and is surrounded by broad fertile 
 fields, villas and country seats. It has a popula- 
 tion of about twenty thousand. We wander 
 
272 The British Isles 
 
 about the city, which is a rather quiet place, and 
 visit the stores in which are displayed shawls, 
 scarfs, handkerchiefs, coats and dress stuffs of 
 the various clans ; also cairngorms, set in silver 
 or gold, and curiosities peculiar to this region. 
 
 Everywhere we see the old Scotch names — 
 Macdonald, Macgregor, Fraser, Bruce, Mac- 
 laughlan, Macleod, Campbell and so on. 
 
 To the east of the town, on the shores of 
 Murray Frith, is the famous field of Culloden, 
 the scene of the last great battle, and the down- 
 fall of the Stuarts. This battle ended also the 
 reign of the Highland chieftains, and the days of 
 their glory, as they had taken sides with the 
 Stuart prince. 
 
 While we are in one of the shops, a beauti- 
 ful collie dog runs up to us and whines until we 
 are compelled to notice him. He rubs himself 
 against us and looks imploringly in our faces. 
 We ask the proprietor of the store whose dog he 
 is, and what he wants, and learn that the fine 
 creature belongs to a jeweller in the neighbor- 
 
A typical Highland washday 
 
The Highlands — FingaFs Cave 275 
 
 hood, and that he is able to distinguish strangers 
 visiting the city, and will go up to them and beg 
 till they toss him a penny, sometimes two or 
 three. He has been known to carry a half a 
 dozen pennies in his mouth at once. If one fol- 
 lows him, as we do after giving him a couple of 
 pennies, the dog will be seen to walk slowly to 
 a baker shop close by, enter, and putting his 
 paws on the counter, deposit there the money, 
 and wait till the girl in the shop puts his rolls in 
 a bag, which he carries to a convenient spot on 
 the sidewalk, and there enjoys his luncheon. We 
 are told that he is a well-known character in 
 the town. 
 
 In our walks or drives in the suburbs, we 
 occasionally come across a picture in real life like 
 the one on the opposite page, and sometimes it 
 is a very pretty sight to behold a bright, healthy 
 young Scotch lassie singing as she works away 
 with her feet on the family wash. We are much 
 interested whenever we have an opportunity to 
 observe a typical Highland washing-day scene. 
 
276 The British Isles 
 
 In the country especially the washing is per- 
 formed in this manner, and I can vouch for the 
 satisfactory results of Scotch methods, for it is 
 rare to find people more cleanly in person or 
 clothing than those of the Scotch nation. 
 Accompanied by our friends, we leave Inverness 
 for Edinburgh, taking for our route the High- 
 land Railway, via Forth Bridge, passing through 
 Glen Garry, the Queen's View, Killiecrankie 
 Pass, and over the celebrated bridge which spans 
 the Firth of Forth. 
 
 The scenery from Inverness to Edinburgh 
 will always be a pleasant memory to us. It is 
 particularly fine around Glen Garry and the 
 Killiecrankie Pass. The old castle, the lofty 
 mountains, Glengarry forest, the lochs — ravishing 
 pictures are with us on every side for miles and 
 miles. At Killiecrankie Pass, for nearly a mile 
 the banks rise steeply on both sides, and the river 
 is almost hidden in the deep chasm below, as it 
 works its way between the rocks in the dense 
 shadow cast by the overhanging trees or frown- 
 
rO 
 
The Highlands— Fingal's Cave 279 
 
 ing precipices. The right bank, rising like a 
 wall from this dusky depth, is covered with trees 
 to its very summit, blending in a harmonious 
 whole the varying shades of the oak and alder, 
 hazel, birch and fir. The journey of seven and 
 a half hours seems much shorter in the presence 
 of this magnificent panorama. The words of the 
 Rev. Mr. Small so well express the feelings with 
 which these scenes inspire us that I can do no 
 better than repeat them here : 
 " In rugged grandeur, by the placid lake, 
 Rise the bold mountain cliffs, sublimely rude, 
 A pleasing contrast, each with each, they make ; 
 And when in such harmonious union viewed, 
 Each with more powerful charms appears imbued, 
 Even thus it is, methinks, with mingling hearts, 
 Though different far in nature and in mood ; 
 A blessed influence each to each imparts, 
 Which softens and subdues, yet weakens not, nor 
 thwarts." 
 
Edinburgh and the English 
 Lakes — The Home Voyage 
 
Edinburgh and the English Lakes— The 
 Home Voyage 
 
 Edinburgh— The Castle— Princes Street— Scott's Monu- 
 ment — St. Giles's Cathedral — Canongate Tt)lbooth — 
 John Knox's House —White Horse Close— Holyrood 
 —Queen Mary's Apartments— The Queensferry 
 Road — Dean Bridge — Forth Bridge — Farewell to 
 Scotland — Keswick — Lake Derwentwater — Pencil 
 Manufacturers— Greta Hall— The Islands — Drive 
 Around the Lake— By Coach to Windermere— 
 Homes of Shelley and Hall Caine— Wythburn 
 Church— Lake Thirlmere— Helm Crag— Grasmere— 
 Nab Cottage — Rydal Mount — Ambleside— Winder- 
 mere — Liverpool — The Day of Departure — On 
 Board the Etruria— The Voyage— New York — 
 Home Again. 
 
 jUR first visit in Edinburgh is to the 
 Castle. This is a noble structure, stand- 
 ing three hundred feet above the valley, 
 upon a cliff which commands a full view of the 
 city. Many associations cluster around these 
 heights. For hundreds of years the Castle was 
 a military stronghold, resisting siege after siege. 
 
284 The British Isles 
 
 Cromwell tried to take it, but its rocky battle- 
 ments proved inaccessible even to his Ironsides. 
 Crossing a drawbridge, we pass through the old 
 Portcullis Gate, above which may be seen the 
 window of the cell in which the Marquis and 
 Earl of Argyll were confined previous to their 
 execution. Here is the armor room, in which 
 receptions are held, and here in this little room, 
 hardly larger than a closet, Mary, Queen of 
 Scots, gave birth to the prince who was to unite 
 the crowns of England and Scotland. This 
 prince, when eight days old, was let down from 
 the cliff in a basket, that the life so precious to 
 two kingdoms might not perish by murderous 
 hands. Queen Margaret's Chapel is very 
 small, but it is an interesting relic of Norman 
 architecture, named for the Saxon princess, 
 queen of Malcolm Canmore, who died in 1093. 
 On the Bomb Batterv, from which one of the 
 finest views of Edinburgh may be seen, is the 
 famous old gun " Mons Meg," supposed to have 
 been made at Mons, in Belgium, in i486, and 
 
Edinburgh and English Lakes 285 
 
 celebrated in the history of the Scottish Jameses. 
 It was removed to the Tower of London in 
 1684, but restored to the Castle in 1829, by the 
 Duke of Wellington, on petition of Sir Walter 
 Scott. The Castle has been the scene of daring 
 exploits. During the conflict between Bruce 
 and Baliol it was taken by the English and held 
 by them for thirty years. In the regalia room 
 are exhibited the crown of Robert Bruce, the 
 sword of state and the jewels of the throne 
 of Scotland, set with gems, and of great value. 
 When Scotland was united with England, in the 
 early part of the eighteenth century, the Scots 
 were afraid these relics would be carried off to 
 to London. They enclosed them in a chest, 
 and closed up the doors and stairways leading 
 to the apartment. They remained there for 
 over a hundred years, until Scott, in delving 
 among the musty records of the city, in search 
 of material for his novels, came across the 
 papers relating to their hiding-place. Every one 
 had forgotten them, but Scott obtained a royal 
 
286 The British Isles 
 
 search-warrant, and finally these priceless gems 
 were opened to public view. The Castle, which 
 has served both as a prison and a residence of the 
 Scottish kings, is now used as a barrack, and 
 the gorgeous costumes of the bonny soldier 
 boys make the scene a pleasant one to look upon. 
 Our guide talks much as a parrot, and we grant 
 him only partial attention, as our eyes rove from 
 one point to another of this spot so full of 
 history. 
 
 Edinburgh is one of the most picturesque 
 cities in Europe. It is cut in two by a deep 
 gorge, on either side of which the old and the 
 new towns stand facing each other. From our 
 quarters in the Royal Hotel in Princes Street, 
 not far from the beautiful monument to Sir 
 Walter Scott, we can see beyond the ravine the 
 long rows of houses in the old town, and up to 
 the ancient castle, with its immortal associations 
 with Auld Reekie, as the old Scotch people used 
 to call the place. 
 
 Scott's monument stands in the eastern 
 
Edinburgh and English Lakes 287 
 
 garden. A stair of 287 steps leads to the top, 
 TrOnT which there is a fine view. The principal 
 niches are occupied by representations of some 
 of the characters in the Waverley novels. In and 
 around the town we observe hundreds of mem- 
 orials of this author and his characters. 
 
 The architect of the monument, George 
 Keep, a youth of great promise, was drowned 
 before its completion. Scott was born in Edin- 
 burgh, and died at Abbotsford, September, 1832, 
 at the age of sixty-one. A fine marble statue 
 of the poet stands at the base of the monument, 
 and is somewhat larger than life. 
 
 St. Giles' Cathedral is the ancient parish 
 church of Edinburgh, but it has undergone so 
 many repairs that it presents a rather modern 
 appearance. Here John Knox thundered, and 
 here James VI., the infant who was born in the 
 castle, when chosen to be James I. of England, 
 took leave of his Scottish subjects. 
 
 Opposite the northwest corner of St. Giles 
 formerly stood the old Tolbooth Gaol, immortal- 
 
288 The British Isles 
 
 ized by Scott in the " Heart of Midlothian." 
 The site is indicated by the figure of a heart 
 upon the pavement. Canongate Tolbooth, or 
 court-house, was erected in the reign of James VI., 
 and is a good specimen of the architecture of 
 the old town. 
 
 We have reached John Knox's house. This 
 manse was provided for the great reformer in 
 1 5 59, when he was elected minister of Edinburgh, 
 and here he resided until his death in 1572. 
 Over the door is the following inscription : 
 
 " Lufe. God. above, all. and. your, neighbor, 
 as. yourself.", and beneath the window from 
 which he is said to have preached to the people, 
 there is a rude efBgy of the reformer pointing to 
 the name of God carved upon the stone above 
 in Greek, Latin and English characters. The 
 pulpit from which he preached in St. Giles' 
 Church is now in the Antiquarian Museum. 
 
 White Horse Close leads to White Horse 
 Inn, a very old-fashioned building, one of the 
 oldest, and in by-gone days most famous hostelries 
 
Edinburgh and English Lakes 289 
 
 in the city. It was here Dr. Johnson put up on 
 his arrival in Edinburgh in 1773. Nearly every 
 house in this part of the town is historically 
 famous, and these curious alleys running out of 
 the streets here are all known as " closes." 
 
 With feelings of awe we approach the world- 
 renowned Holyrood Palace and Abbey. This 
 ancient pile looms up in solemn grandeur, even 
 now defying time and the elements. The vener- 
 able seat of Scottish royalty was originally a 
 convent, as its ordinary name, the Abbey, implies, 
 and like many other monastic institutions, calls 
 David its founder. The legend connected with 
 it is still preserved in the armorial bearings of 
 the borough of the Canongate. The king, so 
 runs the story, was hunting one day in the forest 
 of Drumsheugh, about the year 11 28, when he 
 was thrown to the ground and attacked by a 
 stag which had been brought to bay. A cross 
 was suddenly interposed between the defenceless 
 monarch and the furious animal, which fled in 
 dismay at the sight. The cross, the substance of 
 
290 The British Isles 
 
 which could not be ascertained, was regarded 
 with the highest veneration. In gratitude for his 
 escape, the king founded and endowed the 
 Church of the Holy Rood. 
 
 Here is the Chapel Royal, a fragment of the 
 ancient Abbey, founded by David I. in 112S. 
 This ruin seems frail indeed, and looks as if the 
 present century would have a perceptible effect 
 upon the pillars that still stand. We observe 
 many interesting tombs and monuments, but the 
 chief interest of the palace is associated with the 
 mother of James, the beautiful and ill-fated Mary, 
 Queen of Scots. We recall her sad history as 
 we stand upon the spot where she was married, 
 and walk through the rooms in which she lived. 
 Passing through the audience chamber, where 
 stands the bed on which " Prince Charlie" slept 
 in 1745, we enter Queen Mary's bedroom, which 
 still contains the ancient bed and other furniture. 
 The ceiling here, as in the other rooms, is divided 
 into panels, on which are painted monograms, 
 coats-of-arms and other decorations. On one 
 
Edinburgh and English Lakes 291 
 
 side is the door of the secret passage by which 
 the conspirators against the life of Rizzio entered, 
 and adjoining is the little supper room where 
 they surprised their victim and dragged him out- 
 side the door of the audience chamber, murder- 
 ing him at the head of the staircase. The stains 
 upon the floor here are said to be blood-stains. 
 
 We are quite fatigued by our sight-seeing in 
 Edinburgh. There are so many places that we 
 must visit in this wonderful old town. Arthur's 
 Seat is an abrupt peak, over eight hundred feet 
 high, which terminates the rugged Salisbury 
 Craigs. Across the ravine are other hills, from 
 three to four hundred feet high, and it is on these 
 hills, and in the valleys between that Edinburgh 
 is built, with the many opportunities for hand- 
 some structures thoroughly availed of. The city 
 is a succession of statues, memorials, churches, 
 castles and historical sites. No one who has 
 accomplished anything of note is not commem- 
 orated in some public way in this most appreciat- 
 ive community. " Edinburgh is handing down 
 
292 The British Isles 
 
 to posterity in ' storied urn and animated bust' 
 the memories of all her great people." 
 
 Our English friends, who have been our con- 
 stant companions for the past eight days, bid us 
 good-bye this evening, as they leave Edinburgh 
 for their home at St. Leonards-on-Sea. We shall 
 miss them sadly. 
 
 To-day we have planned to see the great 
 Forth Bridge, built for the North British Rail- 
 way across the Firth of Forth, at Queensferry, 
 nine miles from Edinburgh. It is Sunday, and 
 we learn that the people of this city are very 
 strict in their ideas of keeping the Sabbath. All 
 railway travel, as well as 'buses and trams, is 
 prohibited on that day. In the case of the first 
 and last of these it is an established law, but the 
 'bus or char-a-banc has protested, and as the 
 proceedings are still in court, it continues to run, 
 in spite of the officials. 
 
 At two o'clock this afternoon we secure seats 
 in the open coach, near the driver, and start out 
 with some fourteen other Sabbath-breaking pas- 
 
Edinburgh and English Lakes 293 
 
 sengers, mostly from our hotel. The driver is 
 a garrulous man, possibly the extra shilling has 
 loosened his tongue, and gives us much informa- 
 tion by the way, interspersed with anecdotes and 
 jokes. 
 
 This pike, or to speak accurately, the Queens- 
 ferry Road, runs from London to Inverness. It 
 is a magnificent road. We pass many places of 
 interest — colleges, hotels, asylums, hospitals, resi- 
 dences and noted institutions. Meanwhile the 
 stream of talk flows on. In connection with Sab- 
 bath rides, our driver relates that one Sunday as 
 he was starting out, a woman of the Salvation 
 Army thus accosted one of his passengers : " Do 
 
 you know that you are going to h and 
 
 d n ? " " No," replied the passenger, "lam 
 
 going to the Forth Bridge." Such is the feeling ; 
 against Sunday excursions. 
 
 We are having a delightful ride. Over Dean 
 Bridge, which spans the water of Leith at a 
 height of 106 feet, we pass, with a fine view on 
 either side, looking downward from the bridge. 
 
294 
 
 The British Isles 
 
 Here is one of the stories with which our old 
 " whip ' ' enlivens the way : " Not many miles from 
 here a landlord one day passing the home of one 
 of his tenants perceived John eating his porridge 
 out in the garden in the pouring rain. ' Why, 
 John/ he exclaimed, ' what are you doing out 
 here ? Why do you not stay in the house, where 
 it is warm and dry ?' ' Ah, mister, my chim- 
 ney reeks.' ' Well,' said the landlord, ' I will 
 have it fixed at once,' and he advanced towards 
 the house to look into the state of affairs. ' Oh, 
 mister, you must not look at it now,' said John 
 anxiously. ' Yes, but I must and will,' returned 
 the owner, and, suiting the action to the word, 
 he opened the door, and met with a warm recep- 
 tion from John's wife, who rushed at him and 
 beat him over the head with a broom. Fleeing 
 from the spot the landlord was heard to say : 
 * Ah, John, my good man, sometimes my chim- 
 ney reeks, too.' " 
 
 As we approach the estates of the Earl of 
 Rosebery, which extend miles on either side, our 
 
Edinburgh and English Lakes 297 
 
 talkative Jehu tells us how Lord Rosebery, while 
 at college, made a bet that he would win the 
 Derby and become Prime Minister of England. 
 "And," he adds, "he has done even better, for 
 he has won the Derby twice, and has married a 
 daughter of the Rothschilds." 
 
 One anecdote follows another, until we reach 
 the famous bridge which spans the Forth. Here 
 we leave the coach and take a small steamer, 
 which, for sixpence each, carries us under and to 
 the side of this wonderful structure, a marvel 
 even in this nineteenth century of miracles. The 
 guide book states that : 
 
 " This magnificent structure was opened for 
 traffic by the Prince of Wales, on the 4th of 
 March, 1890. It was designed by Sir John 
 Fowler and Sir Benjamin Baker, on the ancient 
 and simple principle of the cantilever or balancing 
 brackets, which combines the support of an arch 
 with the tension of a suspension bridge. It was 
 in process of construction seven years, under the 
 superintendence of these gentlemen and Sir 
 
298 The British Isles 
 
 William Arrol, the contractor, who displayed 
 wonderful ingenuity, energy and resource in 
 overcoming the stupendous physical difficulties 
 of so gigantic a work. It consists of two huge 
 steel girders, bridges of 17 10 feet span, besides 
 smaller ones on either side, equal to the enor- 
 mous pressure of 1 1 2 pounds to the square foot. 
 Several of the principal piers or foundations of 
 these great spans were built up from the bottom 
 of the sea with great ' caissons,' or metal cases 
 gradually filled with concrete and sand. The 
 northern central pier rests partly on Inchgarvie 
 Island. From the base of the deepest pier to 
 the top of the cantilevers is 450 feet, and the 
 clear space under the centre spans above the sur- 
 face of the water is 150 feet. It is thus the 
 loftiest bridge in the world, and its total length 
 is 1 mile and 1 000 yards. Over 50,000 tons 
 of steel were used in its structure, and it cost 
 over 3,000,000 pounds. It was built to shorten 
 the distance between Edinburgh and Perth." 
 To-day we bid farewell to dear Scotland. 
 
Edinburgh and English Lakes 299 
 
 How reluctant we are to leave her beautiful lakes 
 and mountains ! What pleasure we have had in 
 the countless picturesque views which have been 
 ever before us in these past weeks ! Memory- 
 takes us back to Oban, Iona, Staffa, the Valley 
 of Glencoe, and all the fair Scottish lochs, 
 Lomond, Katrine and Ard ; and to Scott's 
 romantic Trossachs, and the noble mountains, 
 and to the noblest of all, lofty Ben Nevis ; and 
 the delightful sail on the Caledonian Canal to 
 Inverness ; and beautiful Edinburgh with its 
 interesting walks and drives, its monuments and 
 memorials. How happy these days have been ! 
 Long, long will they linger in our hearts. As 
 the train pulls out of Waverly Station, we mur- 
 mur softly and regretfully : " Good-bye, dear 
 Scottish land, good-bye." 
 
 " Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North ; 
 The birthplace of Valor, the country of Worth ; 
 Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, 
 The hills of the Highlands forever I love. 
 
300 The British Isles 
 
 "Farewell to the mountains, high covered with 
 
 snow ; 
 Farewell to the straths and green valleys below ; 
 Farewell to the forests and wild hanging woods, 
 Farewell to the torrents and loud pouring floods." 
 
 We make several changes between Edinburgh 
 and Keswick, stopping on the way at Melrose 
 Station, where we have a fine view of the Abbey 
 from the car window. The Abbey of St. Mary 
 at Melrose was founded by David I. in 1126. 
 Among the other religious edifices on the Scott- 
 ish border, it suffered from many acts of violence, 
 but it is beautiful even in its ruins, and its grace- 
 ful and luxuriant style places it in the highest 
 rank of ecclesiastical architecture. Here, it is 
 said, rest the remains of Alexander II., and here 
 was deposited the heart of King Robert the 
 Bruce. Keswick is a pretty little town of about 
 4000 inhabitants, where we observe some very 
 attractive shops. 
 
 We stroll to Lake Derwentwater. This is 
 one of the most beautiful of the English lakes. 
 
Edinburgh and English Lakes 303 
 
 It is about three miles long-, and one mile wide, 
 and is surrounded by steep wooded crags and 
 lovely green hills, with charming little islands 
 resting upon its surface. We are delighted with 
 this spot, and engaging one of the many small 
 boats that are to be seen at the water's edge, I 
 take off coat and vest, and we make the tour of 
 the lake. The water is smooth, and the day is 
 cloudless. As we row along, we pass a pictur- 
 esque point clad in a robe of green, purple and 
 other softened hues, and known as Friar's Crag. 
 Numerous mountains seem to close the prospect 
 ahead of us. Three hours pass rapidly by as we 
 loiter on this bewitching lake, and we get up 
 good appetites for luncheon. 
 
 This afternoon we visit the pencil factory of 
 Banks & Co., and find much to interest us with- 
 in the walls of this old building. Here are the 
 grinding and pressing rooms, the sawing depart- 
 ment, painting and polishing rooms, and packing 
 office. In the latter, a middle-aged woman is 
 seated at a long table tying pencils in packages 
 
304 The British Isles 
 
 of a dozen each. She does not count the pen- 
 cils as she takes them up, yet eveiy time only 
 twelve pencils are removed from the pile. I ask 
 if she never makes a mistake, and am told that 
 for every package found to contain more or less 
 than twelve pencils, I may have a present of a 
 pound in gold. She works with almost incred- 
 ible rapidity. In the sample room we purchase 
 pencils, seven, twelve, eighteen, twenty-four, and 
 even thirty inches long. The last may also be 
 used as walking sticks. We are presented with 
 a box, showing the entire process, from the rock 
 lead to the finished pencil. I see in imagination, 
 at this moment, an artist out sketching with one 
 of these pencils, thirty inches long. It hardly 
 belongs to the vest pocket series. 
 
 Not far from the old mill is Greta Hall, the 
 residence of the poet Southey, from 1803 until 
 his death in 1843. A monument to the poet 
 may be seen in the little Crosthwaite Church, 
 beyond the bridge which crosses the Greta. Shel- 
 ley also lived for a time in this locality. 
 
Edinburgh and English Lakes 305 
 
 There are many interesting associations con- 
 nected with Lake Derwentwater and its islands, 
 three of which may be seen from the shore. 
 These are Derwent Isle, Lord's Island, and 
 beyond the latter, Herbert Island. All three 
 are the subject of legend and tradition. Herbert 
 Island was the abode of the saint whose name it 
 bears, and the remains of his cell in the middle 
 of the island bear witness to this fact. St. Her- 
 bert lived in the seventh century. 
 
 A thousand years later, we hear of Lady 
 Derwentwater issuing from the family mansion 
 on Lord's Isle, and flying up Wallow Crag, this 
 wooded height on the side of the lake, and by 
 the Lady's Rake, on her way to London, in a 
 desperate effort to save the life of her rebel lord, 
 who perished on the scaffold for participating in 
 the rebellion of 171 5. 
 
 To-day we drive around the beautiful lake. 
 The sky is clear and as blue as cobalt; not a 
 cloud is visible, and the air is delightful. We 
 behold a series of varied and charming views. 
 
306 The British Isles 
 
 Here is a lovely little wooded height called 
 Castle Head, and farther on are the Barrow 
 Falls, which, however, cannot bear comparison 
 with the Lodore Falls, but a short distance 
 beyond. We pass through a little village, and 
 ascend a ridge which affords us a good view 
 of the surrounding country. Here is Cat Bells' 
 Ridge, and here a woods on the side of the 
 road, and onward we go till we reach our hotel 
 again. Afar, the mountains tower in varied 
 hues of purple, green and umber, while along 
 the slopes flocks of sheep and other cattle graze 
 quietly upon the abundant grass and heather. 
 
 The rumble of wheels and the clatter of 
 horses' feet announce the tally-ho that is to 
 carry us to Windermere, the largest of the Eng- 
 lish lakes. We are fortunate in having already 
 engaged the box seats, for an excursion party 
 goes by this coach to Ambleside. The party 
 numbers twenty-nine, including the " Whip " and 
 eight musicians, who are good enough to enliven 
 the ride with a variety of choice (?) music. 
 
Edinburgh and English Lakes 307 
 
 An elderly English lady sitting back of us 
 seems quite irritated by the music. She leans 
 over, and in tones by no means modulated, 
 declares it to be " beastly, and at times, horrid." 
 
 The weather is fine and our horses travel 
 well over these steep mountain roads. Now and 
 then the men jump off, while one of the ladies 
 takes the reins and drives skilfully to the mount- 
 ain top. Looking back, we have a magnificent 
 view of Lake Derwentwater and Bassenthwaite. 
 Here the road is seven hundred feet above the 
 level of the sea. 
 
 Our driver points out the home of Shelley, 
 and the residences of Hall Caine and the Bishop 
 of Bath, pretty and attractive, but unpretentious 
 spots. We have now in full view, a large mount- 
 ain, which resembles an enormous elephant ; 
 head, ears, eyes and long trunk are faithfully 
 represented. When nothing of especial interest 
 presents itself, the band favors us with national 
 airs, much to the annoyance of the English lady, 
 who, by the way, complains much of everything. 
 
308 The British Isles 
 
 The wonder is that she allows herself to take 
 the trip at all. 
 
 " Whoa," shouts the driver, and we stop 
 before Wythburn Church and Inn. We do not 
 enter the Inn, but in we must go to the little 
 old church, a quaint and cosy place, capable of 
 accommodating a hundred and fifty worshippers. 
 After fifteen minutes spent in resting and looking 
 about us, we are again on the way. Here is a 
 fine view of Lake Thirlmere, and farther on, of 
 Helm Crag. The lake is three miles long, and 
 scarcely a third of a mile wide ; near the middle 
 it narrows to a few yards in width, and is 
 spanned by a small wooden bridge. This is a 
 beautiful picture, with Helvellyn to the left, and 
 Skiddaw in the distance. Helm Crag is noted 
 for the peculiar formation of the rocks on its 
 crest, which are a fair representation of the oft- 
 quoted passage of Scripture : " The lion and the 
 lamb shall lie down together." 
 
 The placid and picturesque waters of Gras- 
 mere Lake are about a mile long and nearly a 
 
Edinburgh and English Lakes 309 
 
 half a mile wide. A solitary green island gleams 
 like an emerald upon its surface. We stop at 
 an old hotel in the neighborhood for rest and 
 luncheon. The village, a simple, unpretending 
 place, has been celebrated by the poetry of 
 Wordsworth. We peep into the church, and 
 stroll through the church-yard, in which are the 
 graves of Coleridge and Wordsworth. 
 
 Refreshed by the luncheon and short rest, 
 the band plays more sweet melodies, and off we 
 whirl, leaving behind us the town of Grasmere 
 and some five and twenty villagers who have come 
 out of their houses on the roadside, attracted by 
 the music. 
 
 This neat little stone building is Nab Cottage, 
 once the home of the poet Hartley Coleridge, 
 and here is the far-famed Rydal Mount, the home 
 of Wordsworth during the latter years of his life ; 
 and close by is the village of Rydal. We are on 
 a pretty road, with fields on either side. Our 
 driver, always faithful to his duty, points out the 
 spot where Wordsworth was wont to sit. The 
 
310 The British Isles 
 
 poet's favorite haunt is a pile of rocks of various 
 shapes, well shaded by oaks and chestnut trees, 
 with some shrubbery, not far from the quiet waters 
 of Rydal. 
 
 As we look backwards towards Rydal Hall 
 and the village in the distance, we gaze upon a 
 lovely picture. The poet's house, on a hill behind 
 the church, is almost hidden by trees. Within 
 the grounds of Rydal Hall the charming little 
 Falls of the Rydal send forth a musical voice, 
 and the wooded mountains stand calm and beau- 
 tiful in their green foliage. The scene vanishes, 
 our well-tried steeds keep up their steady pace, 
 and the only sounds now heard are the rumble of 
 the coach and the occasional cracking of the 
 whip, save when the band breaks forth in sudden 
 melody, or the discontented English passenger 
 utters her complaints. In silence we feast our 
 eyes upon the romantic scenes around us. 
 
 At Ambleside we take another coach, and bid 
 farewell to the English lady and her companions. 
 Ambleside is beautifully situated in the valley of 
 
Edinburgh and English Lakes 313 
 
 the Rothay. It is supposed to have been a Roman 
 station, as fragments of tesselated pavements and 
 other relics have been found in the neighborhood. 
 It is a head-quarters for excursions in the southern 
 part of the Lake District. With a lingering back- 
 ward glance at the picturesque spot, we start 
 onward, and reach Oiggs' Hotel at Windermere 
 without incident, at three o'clock in the afternoon. 
 This morning we take a drive which embraces 
 a general outline of the attractions of this cele- 
 brated place. We ride ten or twelve miles along 
 the most frequented, as well as most secluded 
 roads. Yesterday's journey also helps to fill out 
 our view of the northern, middle and southern 
 portions of Lake Windermere. It is the largest 
 lake in England, being ten miles and a half long, 
 and a third of a mile wide. It has many land- 
 ings, and these with the numberless sail boats 
 upon the water, its beautiful wooded banks, varied 
 by picturesque villas and the lofty mountains to 
 be seen on either side, render this one of the most 
 delightful regions in the country. The celebrated 
 
314 The British Isles 
 
 region known as the Lake District embraces a 
 wealth of diversified scenery, with mountains and 
 lakes, which, though not excelling by their great 
 size, present a more wildly picturesque panorama 
 than one would expect w r ho has not seen them. 
 There are in all about sixteen lakes or meres, 
 besides innumerable mountain tarns. The highest 
 mountains are Scafell Pike, Scafell, Helvellyn 
 and Skiddaw, and these range from three thousand 
 to three thousand two hundred feet in height. 
 The Lake School of Poetry has made the district 
 its own, and few points of interest have been left 
 unsung in this locality. 
 
 The fashionable season is over, but there are 
 still many people here, and the stylish landau 
 with its elegant lord and lady is no uncommon 
 sight. 
 
 Our plan was to remain at Windermere a 
 couple of days, then move on to Liverpool, but our 
 apartment at the hotel here is so damp and cheer- 
 less that we decide to leave for Liverpool to-day, 
 and so the afternoon finds us driving up to the 
 
Edinburgh and English Lakes 315 
 
 .. Adelphi Hotel, and rejoicing in the homelike 
 atmosphere which greets us here. 
 
 Thus ends our tour of Ireland, Scotland and 
 the English Lakes. All that now remains is the 
 voyage from here to New York, which we con- 
 template with glad hearts, for we are longing to 
 set our feet once more upon the dear American 
 soil and feel ourselves surrounded by a loving 
 family and faithful friends. May kind Providence 
 spare us for this anticipated happiness. 
 
 After a week of mingled rest and entertain- 
 ment, the day of our departure is at hand, and 
 what a scene of confusion is the Adelphi Hotel. 
 Passengers for the steamer are taking luncheon, 
 while others move to and fro in an excited way, 
 asking questions or making arrangements with 
 the head porter for the delivery of their baggage. 
 Many carriages stand before the hotel, waiting to 
 convey its guests to the pier ; 'buses drive 
 rapidly by filled with travellers, and rows of 
 steamer chairs and trunks crowd each other in 
 the corridors. We reach the Princes Landing in 
 
316 The British Isles 
 
 good time, and find our noble ship awaiting the 
 signal to start. 
 
 At 2.30 p. m. the usual ringing of gongs 
 and blowing of whistles take place, accompanied 
 by waving handkerchiefs, farewell calls, and 
 kisses wafted across the watery space. And now 
 we are in the middle of the Mersey, steaming on 
 our homeward course. 
 
 After the usual programme of settling our 
 belongings, and making final arrangements, we 
 repair to the saloon, where each one entertains 
 himself in the manner that suits him best. The 
 day is not pleasant enough to go on deck, as mist 
 and rain accompany us. The steamer has her 
 full complement of passengers, and we look for 
 a good attendance at dinner this evening, then a 
 gradual falling off for several days. 
 
 Thus far our " log " shows a record of 
 weather anything but pleasant. We have had 
 fog, rough sea, rain, and strong head winds, and 
 at this moment the steamer rolls so as to render 
 writing almost impossible. I have never before 
 
Edinburgh and English Lakes 317 
 
 seen such a seasick-stricken set of voyagers. 
 Only eight of the 320 first cabin passengers 
 respond to the dinner bell, or rather bugle, 
 to-day. The old custom of ringing a gong is 
 superseded by the bugle, which is sounded a half 
 hour before, and at the hour for each meal. For 
 myself, I prefer the gong. 
 
 We are all pretty badly shaken up, and feel 
 the effects of the sea generally. To-night is our 
 worst night. The storm rages all night long, 
 and the constant blowing of the fog horn, the 
 racing of the propeller, and the violent beating 
 of the waves against the side of the ship permit 
 little or no sleep. All door-ways are closed, and 
 ventilation is at a low ebb. Many passengers do 
 not retire at all, for various reasons. One says 
 he wishes to be prepared in case of accident. 
 Others are more or less frightened. Some one 
 tells the story of the darkey who preferred a 
 wreck on land to one on sea, because in the 
 first case, one could look about him after the 
 accident, and say, " Well, der yer are." But 
 
31 8 The British Isles 
 
 on the ocean it is more likely to be, " Where 
 are y er ?' ' 
 
 I say to a lady at my side that the steamer 
 is " racing frightfully," and she replies: " Dear 
 me! I thought racing was prohibited." And 
 she declares emphatically that she will report 
 the captain on our arrival in New York, for 
 racing in such a sea. When, however, I assure 
 her that in this case " racing " only indicates the 
 speed of the propeller in the storm, her indigna- 
 tion changes to laughter at such nautical igno- 
 rance. 
 
 This night is really worse than any other in 
 the whole passage. The gale is fiercer, and the 
 ship plunges and tosses incessantly. The doors 
 of the companion-ways are all bolted, and the 
 storm-doors fastened outside. Very few appear 
 at the dinner-table. The old maxim that " he 
 who sleeps, dines," may find itself established 
 here in negatives, as there are neither diners nor 
 sleepers. 
 
 To-day is clear and beautiful, and the sea, 
 
Edinburgh and English Lakes 319 
 
 towards noon, is smooth. The purser and other 
 officials prophesy that we will be in dock in New 
 York harbor to-morrow between two and three 
 o'clock. The appearance of the pilot on board 
 to-day at noon assures us that we are indeed 
 nearing home. This evening will be a busy one, 
 as the last preparations for leaving the steamer 
 must be made. What a pleasant occupation ! 
 
 A concert was suggested for the evening, and 
 we were asked, among others, to contribute to 
 the entertainment, but the project falls through, 
 as there are too many conflicting claims upon 
 every one's attention just now. 
 
 This forenoon is spent in attending to those 
 innumerable " last things," which can never be 
 done until the last minute. We hope to reach 
 New York at two o'clock. The rain, which 
 comes down in torrents, is a disappointment to 
 the many who have anticipated sitting on deck 
 and enjoying the scenery. 
 
 Now we approach the Cunard Docks, upon 
 which are visible innumerable friends of the 
 
320 The British Isles 
 
 passengers, with smiling faces, waving handker- 
 chiefs, and other demonstrations of delight. We 
 land at last amid endless joyous greetings. Now 
 there is a scramble for the baggage. Men and 
 women, messenger boys, policemen, Custom 
 House officers, wagons and trunks seem inex- 
 tricably mingled together. Finally our trunks 
 are found, and to our great relief inspected, and 
 an hour and a half from the time of our arrival 
 we are seated in a railway coach on our way to 
 dear old Philadelphia, our home, and the home 
 of those we love best. And this is the end of 
 one of the happiest tours it has been our good 
 fortune to make. 
 
 [the end.] 
 
 H 313 85 | 
 
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