UC-NRLF 
 
 $B 75b ESI 
 
 I 
 
 All C...U "<v i. 
 
 1^ ! 
 
^y 
 
 ^ 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 ft 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND 
 
 MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID 
 
to 
 
 , y 
 
 ^ 
 
 s> 
 
 /^ 
 
 4 r^ ' 
 
 p 
 
THE 
 
 CKUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIED;" 
 
 OB, 
 
 NOTES NEAR HOME. 
 
THE 
 
 CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD;" 
 
 o«. 
 
 NOTES NEAR HOME. 
 
 BY 
 
 MARK HUTTON. 
 
 LONDON : 
 TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18, CATHERINE ST., STRAND. 
 
 1864. 
 [The right of Translation is reserved.] 
 
 \^n 
 
LONDON : 
 PEADBOBT AND EVANS, PEINT£RS, WHITtFRIAFS. 
 
THIS WORK 
 
 IS 
 TO 
 
 RALPH BERNAL OSBORNE, Esq., M.P., 
 
 IN THE EARNEST HOPE 
 
 THAT HIS PERSEVERING AND DISINTERESTED ENDEAVOURS 
 
 TO REMEDY ONE OF THE NATIONAL EVILS 
 
 COMMENTED ON IN THESE PAGES 
 
 MAY EVENTUALLY BE REWARDED WITH SUCCESS. 
 
 " Dimidium facti qui bene ccepit habet." 
 
Digitized by tine Internet Archive 
 
 in 2008 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cruiseofhummingbOOhuttrich 
 
' J f f / 
 
 H1^ 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 THE CLADDAGH — A "WAKIXG" — FATHER TOM . . . 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WHY PHIL MAGriRE WEXT WESTWARD . . . ,15 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 PROTESTANT ANATHEMAS — ^HIGHLANDERS' OPINIONS — TOM 
 
 MALLEY'S LUGS 52 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 FATHER MAGUIRE — OWEN KELLY'S FATE . . . .71 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MACKEREL FISHING — THE EAGLE'S NEST — BERTHA' S SORROW 93 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PATSEY'S NON-CONFESSION — THE MISGUIDED MINISTER — ZEAL 
 
 WITHOUT DISCRETION Ill 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A SIGHT OF SEALS — OULD LARRY — ^DEEP SEA FISHING . .135 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE SACRED REEK — THE WEDDING BREAKFAST — PRIESTLY 
 
 ASSAULTS 147 
 
 Ivi317360 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FATHER O'DONOVAN — STRONG MEASURES — CUTTING OUT . 165 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 DEENISH ISLAND — PHILIP GASCOIGNE'S VIEW OF IRISH 
 
 AFFAIRS 190 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 6ERVASE MACNAMARA'S STORY . . . . . . 206 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A PATTERN LANDLORD — PHILIP's THEORIES . . . .238 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 GRACE O'MALLEY— ACHILL ISLAND — ^THE PIRATES OF 
 
 INNISKEA 263 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE CHURCH UPON THE MOOR — COMING TRIBULATION — 
 
 AGRARIAN OUTRAGES 273 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 DEPARTURE — PHILIP GASCOIGNE'S PHILOSOPHY — KILMA- 
 
 GRASTHA CASTLE 290 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 CYRIL VERNON — "VENGEANCE IS MINE" .... 305 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ARRIVAL AT QUEENSTOWN— FATHER o'dONOVAN'S ARREST . 314 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 EE8TITUTI0N— LAST NOTES— EXEUNT OMNES . . .327 
 
THE 
 
 a 
 
 CKUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIED ; " 
 
 OR, 
 
 NOTES NEAR HOME. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE CLADDAGH A " WAKING " FATHER TOM. 
 
 *' Charity ! In the honour of God, yer Honour ! 
 I'm a Claddagh woman, with five small childer — 
 God help 'em, the erathurs ! And one lying stritched 
 in the house beyant." 
 
 The speaker was one of a group of ragged and 
 wretched-looking women who, in the " Sister Isle," 
 — ^the which country I was visiting, — were crowding 
 about the entrance of the hotel in which, after 
 landing from a small yacht, which was for the time my 
 nominal home, I had temporarily taken up my 
 quarters. 
 
 The house of entertainment (?) was situated in 
 
THE CEUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 the centre of a large and singularly unprosperous- 
 looking town ; a town which, to my thinking, par- 
 took largely of the characteristics of an American 
 city at the early period of its creation, and when 
 that specimen of Anglo-Saxon industry and taste 
 for speculation had but just commenced its trade 
 in dry goods, drugs and chemicals, and fancy goods 
 generally. 
 
 And yet for all this resemblance between the 
 American city and the Hibernian town, the latter 
 is a very old creation, and the capital also, as I 
 imagine it should be called, of the westernmost 
 portion of our Queen's dominions. Moreover, if we 
 may believe those interested in its welfare, it pos- 
 sesses many natural advantages ; but (pending the 
 period when those bounteous gifts will be utilised) 
 all that in the first instance attracts the traveller's 
 eye is a general appearance of unthrivingness and 
 decay, the which symptoms are exhibited princi- 
 pally in the display of a population which, for bare- 
 faced, bare-limbed, and unblushing mendicancy — 
 for a paraded and traded-on stock of dirt, rags, and 
 idleness, are second to none (and it is saying much) 
 in any Irish town which it has ever been my lot to 
 visit. 
 
 It was a cold blowing day in August — this may 
 
THE CLADDAGH BEGGAR. 3 
 
 sound like an anomaly, but let any one who has 
 spent a summer on this portion of the wild Atlantic 
 shore convict me of exaggeration if he can. It 
 was, then, on a cold, blowing, and withal rainy day 
 in August, that the beggars, noisy and importunate, 
 thronged round the departing Bianconi car, and 
 begged for charity of the travellers seated thereon. 
 
 The woman whose words I have quoted, was the 
 most conspicuous amid the group, both for the 
 untiring energy of her supplications, and for the 
 silent tale of starvation and of woe which was 
 traceable in every line of her miserable face. Her 
 only covering was a collection of patched and many- 
 coloured rags held together by a bony hand, which 
 was for ever failing in its attempts, and leaving 
 exposed to view the dirt-brown skinny throat, and 
 the unwomanly-looking chest, which seemed as 
 though it had been exposed from earliest infancy 
 (as indeed was probably the case) to the wild storms 
 and buffetings of the cruel Connaught climate. 
 
 " I'm a Claddagh woman, yer Honour. Charity 
 for the poor childer, in the honour of God." 
 
 The woman persisted so vehemently in her peculiar 
 form of prayer, that, distracted though I was by the 
 numerous supplicants around me, I could not choose 
 but listen to her. I was, as I have said, surrounded 
 
 B 2 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIKD." 
 
 by those clamorous, hungry Celts, — with boys, half 
 naked, wriggling in theu' rags, for what purpose 
 I abstained from guessing, — and with old, bent 
 patriarchs, wearied pilgrims through a world which 
 had smiled neither on their childhood nor their age. 
 Heavens ! how forlorn they looked, and how, alas ! 
 degraded! Verily, at that moment I could almost 
 have taken shame to myself that I was dressed in 
 broadcloth, and had dared in my full contentment 
 to complain that Galway bread was scarcely eatable, 
 and that comfort in the hotel was deplorably wanting. 
 
 "Where is the Claddagh?" I asked of the cla- 
 morous woman, whose cries had at last begun to 
 excite, not only my compassion, but my curiosity. 
 
 " This way, yer Honour," exclaimed twenty 
 supplicants, each eager and resolute to earn by their 
 information an anticipated reward. But before I 
 could make up my mind as to the best means of 
 escape from the troublesome throng, a policeman, 
 who had been watching the scene, stepped forward 
 to the rescue. 
 
 " Off with ye," he called out authoritatively, but 
 without the slightest ill-humour or violence. " Can't 
 ye lave the jintleman alone ? Git out of that, all 
 of ye, will ye now?" 
 
 After this powerful intervention in my behalf, the 
 
THE "blazers'" hotel. 
 
 space around me was soon cleared, and I stood 
 unmolested, with the man in green, in the wide open 
 street which stretches alongside of an enclosed 
 square in front of old Filboy's hotel. I chose that 
 most unclean hostelry for the sake of the associa- 
 tions connected with it, inasmuch as I looked upon 
 it as classic ground, and as rendered venerable by 
 the dirt which an unwashed and unwashing people 
 have allowed to accumulate both within and without 
 its time-honoured walls. Very untempting were its 
 beds, and equally unsavoury the fare which was 
 put before me ; but I remembered for my comfort 
 the glorious bygone days when the " bumper fair " 
 was filled there ; when shots (none of your pretence 
 and half-and-half affairs) were exchanged across the 
 tables ; and when the " Gal way Blazers " — God 
 save the mark ! — ^took their claret and their whisky 
 like bold men as they were ! 
 
 Recalling to mind, I repeat, those bygone days, I 
 turned my attention to ihe man of order and autho- 
 rity who stood beside me, and confessing mentally 
 that he was in his right place, I accosted him 
 thus : 
 
 " I have a curiosity to see the Claddagh ; can 1 
 do so now?" 
 
 " Your Honour can," answered the man, raising 
 
his hand to his cap. " It's but a step, although it's 
 a rough place." 
 
 "Will you show me the way?" I asked. And 
 he assenting, we went forward. 
 
 Through the main street, in which I noticed a few 
 tolerable-looking shops, we pursued our way till, 
 arriving (after a walk of some fifteen minutes) at 
 the opposite side of the harbour, I was told that we 
 had entered the precincts of the "Claddagh" — a 
 singular locality, in which exist some thousands of 
 human beings who, strange to say, have never mixed 
 with their neighbours on the city side ; who marry 
 exclusively amongst their own class and community, 
 and who gain theu^ scanty and precarious livelihood 
 by fishing only. 
 
 One house in that curious nest of low-roofed build- 
 ings is not larger than another. There are streets 
 upon streets of miserable cabins, straw-thatched, 
 and internally smoke-dried, whilst a sickening odour 
 of dead and decaying fish hangs heavily on the air. 
 The women whom we met were all dark-eyed, and 
 many might have been handsome but for the be- 
 griming smoke, the careworn wrinkled brow, and the 
 total absence in their dress of the art of coquetterie — 
 that genuinely feminine quality which, as a lenient 
 writer has remarked, is only a vice in the old and ugly. 
 
THE WAKING. • 7 
 
 That there is an admixture, in the population of 
 the Claddagh, both of Eastern and Spanish blood, 
 no one who visits the place can, in my opinion, 
 entertain a doubt; and when we reflect that the 
 qualities and habits of the wild nations from which 
 has sprung this Celtic race have never been modified 
 by any amalgamation with the colder blood of the 
 Saxon, we can scarcely wonder that between the 
 characteristics of the Irish and English peasantry 
 there should be so marked and strong a difference. 
 
 It was with such reflections passing through my 
 mind, and the prayer of the Claddagh woman still 
 ringing in my ears, that I foUowed her through the 
 muddy lanes to the hovel where she dwelt. 
 
 " This is the house, if it's plazmg to your 
 Honour," whined the poor creature, as she stopped 
 at the door of a wretched and ill-smelling cabin. 
 " Sure it's too much trouble your Honour's taking," 
 she added, seeing that I was preparing with stoop- 
 ing head to cross the threshold of her dwelling. 
 
 A low keening ^ sound, that mournful wafling for 
 the dead which, together with many another pecu- 
 liar habit and characteristic, has always seemed to 
 me as corroborative of their Eastern origin, "f broke 
 
 * In Celtic coow— pronounced keen: Anglice, a howl. 
 
 f ** There be cryes used among the Irish, such as their lamentations at 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 from the-f people with fresh vigour when I appeared 
 amongst the group collected in the hovel. It was 
 some time before my eyes grew accustomed to the 
 obscurity (for there was no window, even of the 
 .smallest description, in the cabin) ; but when I could 
 see with anything like distinctness, I witnessed a 
 scene to which only the pencil of a Rembrandt 
 could have done justice. 
 
 Huddled together in the wide chimney-place, and 
 crouching over the live embers, from which the to 
 me suffocating smoke was pouring, were about a 
 dozen women, in costumes closely resembling that 
 of the mistress of the house, and resting, if so it 
 may be called, upon their bare and hard-worked 
 heels. They were all, as if with one voice, howling 
 forth their monotonous and depressing heen^ a per- 
 formance which was occasionally interrupted by the 
 necessity of taking comforting whiffs at the dudheens^ 
 which had probably been provided even before the 
 death of the child, whose waking was now being 
 
 their buryals, which savour greatly of Scythian barbarism, but which also 
 might be used for an argument to prove them Egyptians. For so in 
 Scripture it is mentioned that the Egyptians lamented for the death of 
 Joseph. Others thinke the custome to come from the Spaniards, for that 
 they do immeasureably bewail their dead. But the same is not proper 
 Spanish, but heathenish, being brought hither by the Scythians, or by the 
 Moors that were Africans, For it is the state of all Pagans and Infidels to 
 be intemperate in their way lings for the dead." — Spencer's View of the 
 State of Ireland. 
 
THE BIG COCK. 9 
 
 celebrated, and whose body lay still uncoffined on a 
 low bedstead, whicli stood at a short distance from 
 the chimney. There were numerous other children, 
 with dry eyes and wondering faces, standing about, 
 almost in a state of nudity; whilst a man, in a 
 weather-beaten fisherman's dress, rose on my en- 
 trance from a low wooden chair, and said with 
 native courtesy — 
 
 " Your Honour's welcome." 
 
 " Welcome to what ? " I asked myself. '' To his 
 wretched country, or to his still more wretched 
 home ? To a share in his affliction, or to the jovial 
 entertainment of pipes and whisky which he had 
 provided for his friends ? . Well, it mattered not, for 
 the tone of hospitality and good will was there ; and 
 having frilly convinced myself that my presence 
 would not be considered an intrusion, I took my 
 place amongst the mourners. 
 
 "Poor little thing," I whispered, looking at the 
 small skeleton (for it was scarcely more) which lay 
 near me on the straw-covered stretcher. " Had it 
 been long ill ? had you a doctor to attend it ; and 
 what was the cause of its death ? " 
 
 " Sure, yer Honour, it was jist the big cock — bad 
 manners to it — as had it undher the foot, and he 
 sthriking at the child's head, the thief of the world ! " 
 
10 THE CRUISE OF THE *' HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 " But, good heavens ! you don't mean to say that 
 the cock killed the child?" 
 
 "He did not, sir — yer Honour — ^not to say at 
 onst. But he had the stringth aiqual to a person 
 — saving your prisince : and the child he took bad 
 afther ; and the spot on his head didn't hale at all 
 at all, yer Honour. Biddy, show the jintleman's 
 honour the spot on Tommeen's head. Ye won't 
 now?" And the mother (for it was she who was 
 the spokeswoman) was advancing with a threaten- 
 ing show of enforcing obedience, when a loud 
 fluttering as of wings and many feathers, and a 
 chuckle^ chuckle^ chuckle^ as of domestic fowls innu- 
 merable, caused me to look upwards in the direction 
 from which the unwonted sounds proceeded. 
 
 And there, sure enough, was the big cock himself, 
 — no less a potentate, — surrounded by his vociferous 
 harem, in which a revolt was apparently in progress, 
 for some of the excited ladies descended, in their 
 wild excitement, upon the heads of the funeral 
 guests, while others perched upon the sleeping calf, 
 which was reposing peacefully in one corner of the 
 cabin. 
 
 There was something horribly ludicrous in the 
 scene, and in the strutting audacity with which the 
 homicidal animal, from the rafter — which was evi- 
 
FATHER TOM. 11 
 
 dently the accustomed resting-place of himself and 
 his wives — looked down upon his unconscious 
 victim. 
 
 "And you didn't kill the bird?" I asked, annoyed 
 at this fresh instance of Irish connivance with 
 crime. 
 
 *' Sorra a bit/' answered the father. " What for 
 should we be killing him, the crathur ? " 
 
 I asked no more questions, but hastened to pre- 
 sent my small offering, consisting of two half-crowns ; 
 the which coins were, with a perfect storm of 
 acclamations, placed at once upon the hvid eyelids 
 of the tiny corpse, in lieu of the pence^ by which 
 humbler coins they had previously been compressed. 
 
 As I was preparing to escape from a scene which, 
 I confess, not a little shocked me, and from demon- 
 strations of gi'atitude too servile to be agreeable, 
 there was a shout outside the hovel of — 
 
 "Here's Father Tom! Good look to him!" 
 And in another moment the parish priest, a kindly- 
 looking and rather robust old man, entered the 
 room, with head uncovered, and making, w^ith all 
 due reverence, the sign of the Cross. 
 
 I looked in his face as he uttered a few sympa- 
 thising words to the mourning parents, and thought 
 that I had rarely seen a better, or a truer counte- 
 
12 THE CRUISE OF THE 'HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 nance. But when — and this occurred only a few 
 minutes after his arrival — he caught sight of the 
 Saxon stranger, so sudden a revulsion took place in 
 his entire aspect, that I could scarcely believe him 
 to be the same man. 
 
 In the place of cheerfulness there was lowering 
 gloom, and where there had been an appearance of 
 open frankness I noticed in every lineament a look 
 of hatred and suspicion. My first sight of Father 
 Tom had inspired me with a wish to be better 
 acquainted with him ; but my second caused me to 
 hurry from his presence, with a conviction that both 
 I and the race from which I sprang were hateful in 
 his sight. 
 
 "And what,'^ I asked myself, as I walked 
 musingly towards my inn, "what was the cause 
 of that portentous cloud which so suddenly over- 
 shadowed the rubicund countenance of the Roman 
 Catholic priest? " In my many wanderings through 
 other lands, where the creeds were different from my 
 own, I had met no such warnings of hostility ; whilst 
 near to home, and amongst those who speak the 
 language of my forefathers, and live under the rule 
 of the same government, I find that my appearance 
 is as a signal that the armour of conflict should be 
 put on. 
 
A CONNAUGHT NIGHT. 13 
 
 The conviction was a painful one, and gave me 
 food for thought during my solitary evening in that 
 comfortless Connaught hostelry. 
 
 It had been my purpose to leave Galway on the 
 following day, but the morning was ushered in by a 
 gale of wind, accompanied with such unremitting 
 and fiercely driving rain, that it was impossible for 
 any but the most determined and completely 
 weather-proof adventurer to trust his person on 
 the outside of that most uncomfortable of vehicles, 
 namely, an Irish car. I wandered about the town, 
 however, wrapped in the thickest and most impene- 
 trable of " Cordings ; " and it being Sunday, I ven- 
 tured into the church denominated that of St. 
 Nicholas, and listened to Father Tom's discoorse. 
 
 And a very good discoorse it was, although some- 
 what over-comforting methought, and tending to 
 increase the influence of the priest over his flock, 
 inasmuch as it led the congregation to believe that 
 in the hands of their spiritual directors are the issues 
 of life and death. Saving this peculiarity — one, how- 
 ever, which is by no means confined to the portly 
 Father Tom — ^there was nothing particularly to be 
 remarked upon, if I except the unpleasant odour of 
 damp walls, which, together with that of stale 
 incense, and the pungent peat smell arising fi'om 
 
14 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 the moist garments of the congregation, produced a 
 pot-pourri of perfumes anything but agreeable. 
 
 For the space of more than eight-and-forty hours 
 was I weather-bound in that emporium of dirt, bad 
 living, noise, and whisky-drinking yclept Filboy's 
 Hotel. But I did not regret my temporary impri- 
 sonment, inasmuch as it brought me acquainted 
 with a pleasant Anglo-Celt, who, partly for pisca- 
 torial, and partly for business purposes, had been 
 for more than two years a resident in the West. 
 From him I learnt many amusing anecdotes of the 
 country people, with whom he had evidently asso- 
 ciated on terms of tolerable intimacy ; and among 
 other characteristic stories related by him concern- 
 ing them, there was one which, from the kind of 
 romance attending it, particularly attracted my 
 attention. 
 
 I hardly know whether or not I may venture to 
 assert that the adventure, which in the next chapter 
 I shall give as nearly as possible in the relator's own 
 words, is entirely true ; but that it is founded on 
 fact, I have Mr. Sullivan's own authority for 
 declaring. 
 
CHAPTER 11. 
 
 WHY PHIL MAGUIRE WENT WESTWARD. 
 
 " Well ! Mrs. Flannagan, and how about your 
 friend Father Flannery ? " 
 
 " Deed, your Honour, it's httle I'd be seeing him 
 the time past. I'm thinking it's undher the salt 
 wather he is." 
 
 " Under the salt water ! Father Flannery drowned ! 
 Never!" 
 
 " Is it drowned, your Honour ? " 
 
 " Yes ; didn't you say he was under the salt 
 water?" 
 
 " It's at Louisberg he is, your Honour." 
 
 " Oh! I understand ; taking the sea-baths." 
 
 " He is, your Honour." 
 
 " And so, till Father Flannery gives leave, your 
 children will have no schooling ? " 
 
 " That's it, your Honour. I wouldn't like to go 
 agin his Riv'rence ; and I did hear as much that the 
 clergy would be saying the childer of the neighbours 
 
16 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 might be let go to the Church of England schools, 
 but they wouldn't allow the joompers anyway; 
 seeing that they do be speaking awful agin the 
 Virgin Mary, and making the childer read the Bible, 
 and go agin the clergy." 
 
 " But, my good woman, you never made these 
 objections till you had secured all the good new 
 clothes for your children. I remember that you 
 were all for sending them to school when you were 
 promised frocks and petticoats to send them in." 
 
 "Is it the petticoats, your Honour?" 
 
 I looked into her face, and saw cunning in every 
 line of it. She was a small spare woman, with an 
 unwashed wrinkled face, and (though her youngest 
 child was an infant yet unweaned) the meshes of 
 hair which escaped from under her cap were thickly 
 mingled with gi'ey. Her small thatched hovel was 
 built in a hollow beneath the road, rearing its 
 modest grass-grown head at the distance of about a 
 hundred yards from the spot where we stood, and 
 conveying in its architectural simplicity no very 
 exalted idea of the boasted improvement in the 
 dwellings of the Irish peasantry. 
 
 She was a hard-working woman, who had been 
 chosen as the partner of his cares by a club-footed 
 cripple ; an honest harmless creature, who, in process 
 
VISIT TO THE HOLY WELL. 17 
 
 of time, had made her the mother of a " long wake 
 family." Shock-headed, turf-dried little animals 
 they were, utterly untutored ; and deplorably igno- 
 rant of the blessings of soap and water. Behind 
 the hovel was the " little lock of pratees " with its 
 naiTOw, unsightly "lazy beds" looking anything 
 but green, and smelling ominously of the dread 
 disease which was already beginning to show its 
 premonitory symptoms. One wind-tossed thorn- 
 tree whose head was bent resolutely N.N.E., 
 stood near the cabin, and under it the goat and 
 cow that gave the "sup o' milk" to the family, 
 sheltered their projecting bones, and weather-beaten 
 ragged hides. 
 
 It was indeed a melancholy picture, and most 
 melancholy of all was the mother's cunning face as 
 she peered curiously into mine. At another time I 
 might have reasoned with the woman, but being in 
 haste I contented myself with a polite inquiry after 
 the health of the absent Pether^ and prepared to 
 pursue my journey. 
 
 " Sure it's to the Holy Well he's gone, yer 
 Honour! Saving your prisance, he's had a great 
 pain in his heart this long while, and was three days 
 lying, and taking nothing at all." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! Well, I'll see him on the road, 
 
18 
 
 and Father Flannery too, please God. And now 
 good-bye to you." 
 
 " Good-bye to yer Honour — and send you safe 
 home." 
 
 And with that " God speed " we parted. 
 
 I was mounted on a rough looking, but sure- 
 footed Connemara pony, an animal accustomed 
 from its infancy to carry double, and to whom the 
 use of oats as an edible vegetable was almost 
 unknown. Under these circumstances the pace at 
 which I travelled was not, as may be inferred, a 
 rapid one ; and I had therefore ample leisure to 
 satiate my eyes with the beauty of the scenery in 
 the midst of which I was journeying. It was a 
 nearly treeless country through which my road lay, 
 and the valley traversed by it through its length 
 was edged on both sides (and also at its apparent 
 extremities) by precipitous and somewhat barren 
 looking mountains. Along the lower portions of 
 those mountains remains of former cultivation 
 might be traced ; a greener hue was there per- 
 ceptible, in small and isolated patches; and near 
 to those once well-tilled fields, heaps of stone, and 
 here and there the remains of a pointed gable wall 
 told their tale of the advent of the Saxon, for whose 
 behoof those peasant homes had been made roofless. 
 
SPLENDID SCENERY. 19 
 
 High up, and higher still, towards the corrugated 
 line where the low clouds touched the mountain 
 summits, the steep acclivities were dotted with 
 purple heather, and lined down their rugged faces 
 with many a watery furrow. 
 
 It was as lovely a day as a wanderer among 
 mountain wilds could wish for. No glaring sun 
 mocked with his broad shining face the dark desola- 
 tion that dwelt in the deep hollows, where warmth 
 and light found no place to enter; but ever and 
 anon a bright gleam shone out from behind a cloud 
 of down-like lightness, and then, as though with 
 one accord, the green slopes smiled out into a more 
 vivid colouring, and tipped with a sunny radiance, 
 the towering summits of the dark grey rocks 
 assumed a clothing of less sombre hue. 
 
 My road lay along the shores of lakes, and by the 
 brink of a naiTow but most rapid river. There 
 were no signs of human life around me, and it was 
 only by the occasional cry of a wild bird, the scream 
 of a curlew, or the flapping of a heron's wings as he 
 rose slowly from the river's brink, that the almost 
 solemn stillness of the scene was momentarily 
 broken. Far away, towards heaven's gate, an eagle 
 soared and hovered, floating a thousand feet above 
 the pigmy prey on which, while the unconscious 
 
 c 2 
 
20 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 small bird nestled in the heather, his piercing eye 
 was fixed. I watched him as he swooped to seize 
 his victim, but ere his talons touched the earth 
 a rock hid him from my view, and passing onward 
 I saw the Arab of the air no more. 
 
 After a ride of some four miles I emerged upon 
 what is called by the natives a public road, and 
 truly enough upon it I began to see some proof 
 that in these distant regions the race of man is not 
 altogether extinct. It was the anniversary of a 
 distinguished saint, and moreover the day on which 
 is held the great Pathern^ or Fair of Murrisk. 
 Every one who knows anything of the highlands 
 of beautiful Connaught has seen, or a tleast heard 
 of, the far-famed mountain, the almost sacred Reek^ 
 from the highest peak of which St. Patrick did, by 
 " bell and book and candle," curse the reptiles of the 
 land, bidding them "go out o' that" for ever and 
 for aye. At the foot of that famous mountain lies 
 the townland (as it is called) of Murrisk. Within 
 its precincts the Pathem is held, and during its 
 continuance there rises round the side of old Croagh 
 Patrick many a sound of noisy merriment, shouts of 
 drunken revelry, and violent faction fights. 
 
 During the month of August it has for ages been 
 a custom among the peasantry to go through a 
 
PENANCE AND WHISKY. 21 
 
 course of religious observances, the penances im- 
 posed during the period being all the while strangely 
 mixed up with the fun and frolic, the whisky 
 drinking and barbarous "batings" which have for 
 centuries past formed the combined elements of 
 Hibernian gatherings. Far up the mountain side 
 might be seen crawling forms bare-kneed and bleed- 
 ing, for while the rough stones chafe their limbs 
 they count the beads of their rosaries, and with 
 many a muttered Ave, hope, and believe (for " sure 
 the priest has said it ") that through the penance 
 performed the score chalked against them may be 
 washed out, and that, "by the blessing of God," 
 they may be permitted to run up another reckoning. 
 
 But of all the sacred shrines to which during the 
 merry August month are bent the steps of the pious 
 mountaineers, that of Our Lady at the Holy Well of 
 Kilgeeva is the most renowned, and in its miraculous 
 powers the most effective. 
 
 " Sure it was there that the English jintleman 
 from the airmy took the holy fish that has lived in 
 the well evermore ; and bedad ! the fish — long life 
 to him — got out of the frying-pan, and threw a lep^ 
 so he did, right fornenst the jintleman, and the wife 
 that was along wid 'im : and the two of them was 
 dead and waked within the year, Bad cess to 'em ! 
 
22 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 And the fish he got back to the well — hj the bless- 
 ing of God — as he did." 
 
 This, and many another record of miraculous 
 interference is told concerning that wonderful spot; 
 and, as may be supposed, numerous are the votaries 
 that journey towards it, in the full belief and expec- 
 tation that they will there not only receive pardon 
 for their sins, but will be healed of all their bodily 
 infirmities. 
 
 As I proceeded on my way, I soon found myself 
 among small parties of the country people, all of 
 whom were on their way, either to the Pathern or 
 to the Well. Men and women— boys and girls — 
 pilgrims on foot and pilgrims on horseback, all the 
 heads turned one way, and that way was due west 
 towards the fair. 
 
 On sped the merry gi'oups — ^the women and girls 
 clothed in their bright red petticoats and snow 
 white kerchiefs, while the men, in decided opposi- 
 tion to the picturesque, had donned their best frieze 
 suits, tall hats, and extensive shirt collars. On 
 they went along the silent valley, beneath the ever- 
 lasting hills, and side by side with the rapid river : 
 and so journeying they came at last to the rooky 
 ford, where the mountain stream runs narrowest. 
 It was a pretty sight that river crossing ! and only 
 
CROSSING THE FORD. 23 
 
 that among the jocund company men were found, 
 made of such stern and unchivah'ous stuff that they 
 made use of the softer sex for the purpose of con- 
 veying theu' masculine bulk across the water, my 
 feelings of admiration for all I saw would have been 
 unmixed. Remonstrance against the unsightly deed 
 would have been as vain as any display of Quixotic 
 feeling was uncalled for, as the barefooted girls, 
 laughing memly, lent themselves willingly to the 
 work, and, after carrying their unscrupulous friends 
 safely over the slippery stones, let them down far 
 too easily (as I thought) on the other side. 
 
 This ford passed, the character of the road 
 changed, for instead of representing with tolerable 
 accuracy a well-kept carriage-way, it merged into 
 a narrow rocky footpath, hewn out of the steep 
 mountain side. The path itself was strewed in 
 many places with loose stones washed by the rains ; 
 miniature precipices hung threateningly over the 
 lake, and it was only by daylight, and to feet well 
 accustomed to such tracks that the way could be 
 considered as altogether free from danger. 
 
 I was not the only equestrian of the party I had 
 joined, for close beside me rode a man of whom I 
 had often heard as the hero of many a daring deed 
 and desperate faction fight. He was a fine-looking 
 
24 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 fellow, six feet at least in height, broad-shouldered 
 and muscular. Add to these advantages, handsome 
 features, a profusion of somewhat reddish hair, with 
 a goodly growth of whisker, and Phil Maguire is 
 before you. 
 
 The father of this stalwart individual was a very 
 small farmer, but a " snoog " man withal. He was 
 a widower, his wife having died in childbed, leaving 
 him with his share of the national grievance, viz., 
 the "long wake family," to whom the "big bro- 
 ther " Phil became from that day forth both brother 
 and mother too — so tender was he, and careful of the 
 little beings by whom the small cottage was filled 
 to overflowing. He was a good workman, and 
 could "turn his hand" to anything. His wages j 
 too, were high, whether he earned them in the coast 
 craft as harpooner, or as blaster in the stone-quarries. 
 But the money thus gained was often spent reck- 
 lessly enough, for it was not in Phil's nature to be 
 saving, even for the little brothers and sisters whom 
 he loved. 
 
 A good-natured fellow, and generally popular was 
 that careless and somewhat graceless Philip, often 
 sharing his meal of potatoes with the tramp who, 
 at the kitchen of the rich man, had been refused 
 the dinner he or she had been " expecting." And 
 
CLUB-FOOTED PETER. 25 
 
 even now, heavy weight as he is, and rough as is 
 the way, he is not alone upon his mountain pony, 
 but has taken up behind him no less a burthen than 
 club-footed Peter, the halting husband of my lame 
 acquaintance. 
 
 " Yer Honour's welcome," said the cripple, as, 
 holding on vigorously to Philip's double-milled frieze 
 coat, he greeted me from the crupper of the much- 
 put-upon animal. 
 
 " What's the matter, Peter?" said I, in acknow- 
 ledgment of the civility. " Your wife says you are 
 expecting a miracle at the Holy Well." 
 
 *' 'Deed I am not, yer Honour ; but it's a sore 
 pain I have about the heart any way. The neigh- 
 bours do be saying as it's the yaller male as 
 is in it, and sorra a bottle I took done me good 
 afther." 
 
 " And how about the potatoes?" I asked, willing 
 to change the subject, and rather shrinking from a 
 catalogue of the ills to which Peter's flesh was 
 heir. 
 
 The question was answered by Philip, who, after 
 touching his hat respectfully, proceeded to give 
 his opinion on a matter so vitally interesting to his 
 class and countrymen. 
 
 " Bad, yer Honour — the worst since '47, and the 
 
26 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 turf desthroyed out of the face. It's murthering 
 times intirely." 
 
 " Ah, now, Phil, sure the herrings do be coming 
 in. The harvest herrings 'ill be in, surely." 
 
 " Divil a one o' them," said Philip, despondingly ; 
 cutting short, ruthlessly, the soothing prognostica- 
 tions of the man at his back. " The times is gone 
 to the bad intkely, and, let alone a pretty girl or 
 two, deuce a one of me cares how soon I lave the 
 ould counthry afther me." 
 
 " Now, Phil dear, sure that's all along of the 
 herrings," said a bright-looking young maiden, look- 
 ing archly up at him from under her many-coloured 
 plaid. "It's jist the herrings ; but Pat Hallinan, 
 he tould me betther, for, says he, they do be sere- 
 nading the time past in the bay o' nights." 
 
 "Serenading?" I exclaimed, puzzled by the 
 novel application of the word. " Oh ! I see — play- 
 ing outside." 
 
 " It's not playing they are at all, your Honour," 
 said Phil, coming to the rescue of his fair friend. 
 " It's just standing up agin the wind she manes, but 
 it's little the likes of her knows afther." 
 
 Again, for I was in no humour for a discussion of 
 the wrongs and misfortunes of the country, I turned 
 the conversation into another channel. There is 
 
IRISH HORSES. 27 
 
 one subject tliat in Ireland, as elsewhere, is an 
 almost inexhaustible one, and that one is horses^ 
 their merits, their capabilities, and, above all, their 
 prices. Impressed with the truth of this remark, 
 I, without any unnecessary circumlocution, bestowed 
 a rather unwarrantable amount of commendation 
 on the animal which bore the weight of the burly 
 Phihp. 
 
 "A strong, useful mare," I said; "just the ani- 
 mal to caiTy a man and a half without feeling it." 
 
 " Sure it's not trusting to a man and a half it is at 
 all, yer Honour," interposed the dark-haired girl who 
 trudged so closely by the side of the well-laden 
 pony; "it's Philip's the weight of two men any 
 day." 
 
 "Aisy now, agra, and don't be hoombugging," 
 said Phil, while a conciliatory glance at the maiden, 
 and the slightest of taps on her small fingers with 
 his stout shillelagh^ showed her that he spoke in 
 jest. 
 
 " It's a good poor man's baste, surely, yer 
 Honour," continued he, as the girl, after drawing the 
 kerchief forward on her brow, fell back among the 
 pedestrians ; "a good mare as there is in the three 
 counties, and she's got a foal, three years old this 
 grass, as is as good as hersel', good look to her." 
 
^8 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD.' 
 
 " Could I see her," I asked, for I was in want of 
 a strong riding cob, and the stock seemed promising. 
 
 "You can, yer Honour; she's at home at my 
 father's place." 
 
 " Oh, it's a mare is it?" I inquired, somewhat dis- 
 appointed at this apparently unequivocal revelation 
 of the sex of the youthful animal." 
 
 " She is not, yer Honour ; she's a horse, and a 
 great little animal entirely." 
 
 At this point of the conversation our discourse 
 was interrupted by the distant view of a crowd of 
 persons, who, coming towards us at a rapid rate, 
 were making the echoes ring with their shouts and 
 joyous exclamations. On they came with a rush 
 and a push, with barebacked ponies carrying their 
 double freight, while, a little ahead of the main 
 body, a red-faced, self-satisfied looking hoy^ bore 
 triumphantly behind him on a pillion the very pret- 
 tiest peasant damsel my eyes had ever rested on. 
 
 I turned to question Maguire as to what I saw,— 
 for in the arrangement, as well as in the proceedings 
 of the party, there was evidently something unusual, 
 — and I was surprised at the expression of concen- 
 trated hate and rage visible on his countenance. 
 
 "The everlasting shcoundrel," he muttered be- 
 tween his closed teeth. " God's curse on him ; and 
 
THE DRAGGING HOME. 29 
 
 lie to be bringing the girl before my face this way!" 
 and with a blow on his pony's flank that made the 
 animal spring forward with abound, and sent "lame 
 Pether" flying into the bog, Phil darted towards the 
 object of his wrath. 
 
 But if the young man's blood was up, and his 
 cheek was flushed with passion at the sight of his 
 enemy afar off, one glance at the pale maiden who 
 rode behind his foe was sufficient to send back the 
 crimson current to his heart, and blanch his cheek to 
 a marble paleness. Very near to him passed the 
 pair, but the merry clamour of those that followed 
 them was hushed; and as they filed by the now 
 crushed and silent Philip, each man turned aside his 
 head, and the young girl who walked beside him 
 looked on the strong man pityingly. 
 
 "What is all this about?" was my low-toned 
 query, addi'essed to the hapless Peter, who, after 
 picking himself out of the swamp, was ruefully en- 
 deavouring to restore his holiday garments to their 
 pristine elegance. 
 
 " Sure it's the dragging home, yer Honour." 
 
 " And what may that be ?" 
 
 " Bedad ! and it's just the wife that the boy do be 
 taking to his own place. The neighbours said as 
 how she had an eye to Philip hissel ; but he that's 
 
30 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 got her — that's Thady Flaherty, yer Honour — ^he, 
 and the likes of him did be letting on to Winny — 
 that's Winny Foresthal, yer Honour — that Phil was 
 gwine to joomp — ^that is, to lave the chapel, yer 
 Honour — along of his sending his small little brother 
 to the Ministher's school ; and old Tom Foresthal — 
 that's Winny's father — was mad agin him en- 
 tirely : and so it was, yer Honour, that amongst 
 them they made it up with Thady Flaherty, and it's 
 the dragging home it is the day." 
 
 After this explanation, I looked again at the face 
 of the disappointed lover, and there perceived a 
 most melancholy illustration of the story I had been 
 listening to. 
 
 The sudden paleness and the agitated tremor of 
 the lip had given place to a rigid fixedness of ex- 
 pression that boded little good to his triumphant 
 rival. I did not address the man again, but, watch- 
 ing all that passed narrowly, I saw that the young 
 girl with the elastic step and shrouded features had 
 again crept closely to his side, and that the small 
 brown hand was once more resting on the tangled 
 mane of the stout cob he rode. 
 
 What remains to be told of Philip's story was not 
 made known to me till many a month had passed 
 away — not, in short, till time and various other 
 
THE "hue and cry." 31 
 
 causes had almost obliterated from my mind the 
 memory of the little adventure I have been narrating 
 to you. 
 
 It was at a wayside inn, on or about the 16th of 
 April following, that, seated at the table in a public 
 room, I chanced to take up and glance over a recent 
 number of the " Hue and Cry." There were several 
 persons present, and among them two members of 
 the police force. Fine soldier-like looking fellows 
 they were, with no traces of whisky-loving on their 
 bronzed faces, but with the keen eye and firmly-set 
 mouth so often characteristic of men of their pro- 
 fession. With the attention of those two ofiicials 
 evidently fixed upon me, I read an advertisement 
 that filled me with dismay. It was as follows : — 
 
 "wilful murder. 
 " Whereas a verdict of wilful murder has been 
 found against one Philip Maguire, who did, on the 
 — day of August last, beat and kill one Thomas 
 
 Foresthal, of' , in the county of , this is to 
 
 give notice that a reward of fifty pounds will be 
 given to any person who shall give such information 
 as will lead to the conviction of the said Philip 
 Maguire," &c., &c. 
 
 And then followed a minute and accurate descrip- 
 
32 THE CRUISE OF THE '' HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 tion of the man for whose apprehension the reward 
 was offered. 
 
 Now, whether it was owing to a conscious feeling 
 which I may presently explain, I know not, but I 
 certainly experienced some very uncomfortable sen- 
 sations as I read those words, and felt the eyes of 
 those two men watching me as I did so. After 
 a while, however, curiosity got the better of my 
 consternation, and I addressed the elder of the 
 two thus — 
 
 " This is a shocking crime that I have been 
 reading of — this murder, as it is supposed to be, by 
 Philip Maguire. So long ago, too — is the man not 
 taken yet?" 
 
 "Taken, sir? Not he! For seven months we 
 have been dodging him, and I beHeve the devil has 
 a hand in it, or sure we must have got him before 
 this." 
 
 " But what was the story, and how did it hap- 
 pen?" I inquired, when, after calling for more punch 
 for the benefit of my green-coated fellow-guests, I 
 prepared to listen to the details I had asked for. 
 
 " It was the day of the fair of W , yer 
 
 Honour, and a dale of whisky had been dhrunk in 
 the town, but all had gone off pretty quite — -just a 
 broken head or two — no harm in life. But next 
 
AN IRISH ROW. 33 
 
 mommg, by the first light, came an account that a 
 murdered man was found in a ditch, a matter of 
 three miles from the town, and that man was old 
 Tom Forestal. It seems that Tom, and a son of his, 
 and his daughter's husband, one Thady Flaherty, 
 was coming home from the fair the worse for dhrink, 
 when who should come upon 'em but Phil and his 
 two brothers, stout boys all of 'em ; and they, as was 
 proved, had taken the dhrop, and had a mind to give 
 Thady a bating, 'cause it was he. as had given the 
 ill word of Phil to a girl he was comiing. It was a 
 dark night, and it came out that the son and the 
 son-in-law made off, like cowardly spalpeens as Ihey 
 were, laving the father all by himsel' to git the 
 bating ; and git it he did, sure enough. The two — 
 that is, the young boys — swore to the men, for 
 Philip's brothers were taken next day ; and old Tom 
 lived long enough to make oath that it was Phil as 
 strick the blow that killed him : and, sure enough, 
 he was the boy that had th,e spite, let alone the thick 
 stick, for the other boys had only small little rods 
 along wi' 'em. 
 
 " So the jury brought in a verdict of * wilful 
 murder ' against Philip Maguire ; and from that 
 day (though it's known he was within a mile of the 
 town at trial time) sorra a near sight of him have 
 
34 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 we had. He just keeps the tops of the mountains, 
 and it's my belief it's the girls (God bless 'em !) as 
 looks to him, for not a hand's turn of work can he 
 get to do any way. But he was evermore a smart 
 boy among the women ! " 
 
 So for seven long months, through the wet and 
 weary winter, and on the snow-capped mountain 
 peaks, the hunted man had wandered ! And on the 
 highest of those lofty summits, while climbing up- 
 wards to gaze upon the sun-lit sea, I but the day 
 before had met the proscribed and guilty man ! 
 
 I hardly knew him when my eye first encountered 
 his," he was so changed, and worn, and haggard. 
 His red, neglected beard fell low upon his chest ; 
 while his head, round which was bound a tattered 
 black handkerchief, looked of unusual dimensions un- 
 der the tangled masses of his thick and unkempt hair. 
 He stopped when he saw me, and confronted me 
 boldly. 
 
 We were nearly at th^ loftiest point of a moun- 
 tain that rose from the sea level with singular 
 abruptness. Sheer below us stretched the broad 
 Atlantic, at a distance of some fifteen hundred feet ; 
 and near to where we stood was a large projection 
 of dark grey stone, from behind which the wanderer 
 had suddenly emerged. 
 
INTERVIEW WITH THE PEOSCRIBED. 35 
 
 On seeing me, lie, as if mechanically, raised his 
 hand to his head, while, with the com^tesy which 
 seems to be among the natural gifts of his country- 
 men, he addi'essed me with the greeting that sounds 
 so pleasant in a stranger's ears of — 
 
 " Yer Honour's welcome home." 
 
 Then, and not till then, a light was held to 
 memory, and I knew who the wild man was. 
 
 " Philip Maguire ! " I exclaimed. " Is it possible ? 
 What has happened to you ? I never saw a man so 
 changed ! " 
 
 " 'Deed an' I am changed, yer Honour ; and it's 
 the sorra has done it. But I wouldn't be throubling 
 yourself with the likes of it. Does yer Honour 
 remember," added he ; and then, after a pause, 
 " does yer Honour recollect the black little mare, 
 and the way by the lake side ? And sure ye mhid 
 Katie, the little girl as walked beside us? " 
 
 " Indeed I do, Philip ; and a nice little girl she was." 
 
 " She's not much for beauty, yer Honour, but 
 she's good^ that's what she is ; and if ever it plase 
 God, — ^but I disremember — did yer Honour lave the 
 counthry afore the day as " 
 
 "What day, Philip?" I asked, for the man 
 stopped hesitatingly. " I left in August, and have 
 only just returned." 
 
 D 2 
 
•36 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 He looked down on the ground thoughtfully. 
 
 " Bedad and it's a poor thing for the likes o' me 
 to be spaking to a gintleman this way," and he 
 laughed strangely. " But let alone that, for it's the 
 bitther word yer Honour '11 hear tell o' me, and, faix, 
 it's along wi' the rest ye'll be belaving it. Ah! 
 By the Blessed Virgin, but it's over the clifts I 
 could be casting mysel' down into the deep say^ but 
 for Katie ; but sure it's Katie as loves the likes o' 
 me, and I'll just stay for the Colleen's sake. God 
 bless her!" 
 
 " But I don't understand. What have you done, 
 Philip ? And what do people say of you ? " 
 
 " Yer Honour '11 just be axing the first comer, and 
 tales enough'll be tould of Phil Maguire. But," he 
 continued, looking at me fixedly, "ye'll not let on 
 that you saw me the day. It's the police is afther 
 me, and has been this length o' while ; but they'll 
 not lay a hoult on me this time, I'm thinking, bad 
 cess to them." 
 
 He turned, and left me ; and I, musing on what 
 I had heard, and calling to mind the chance ren- 
 counter by the dark lake side, began to fear that 
 some serious crime had been committed by the 
 reckless mountaineer. With this impression on my 
 mind, I determmed to take an early opportunity of 
 
A MOUNTAIN EXPEDITION. 37 
 
 ascertaining what had actually taken place, and of 
 learning the amount of retribution with which my 
 quondam acquaintance was threatened. This plan 
 I soon put in execution, and the result has been 
 shown in my detailed conversation with the com- 
 municative policeman in the parlour of the road-side 
 inn. 
 
 A week elapsed, and then, unable to banish from 
 my mind the memory of the miserable fugitive, I 
 resolved to undertake a second expedition to the 
 mountain, in order to seek out and revisit the spot 
 where my interview with Maguire had taken place. 
 I had an irresistible desire to see the man again, for, 
 sinner as he doubtless was, and partly perhaps be- 
 cause he was so gi'eat a sinner, I felt a profound 
 compassion stirring in my heart towards him. 
 
 It was a delicious morning. A slight easterly 
 haze (the only wind that does not, in these storm- 
 visited regions, bear mist and toiTent on its wings) 
 wafted to the senses glad odours of the spring; 
 while the vaulted roof of heaven was blue, and the 
 sea that rippled over the yellow sands below looked 
 green as grass. 
 
 By slow degrees, for the way was steep, I 
 ascended the rocky mountain side, resting at in- 
 tervals on the stones that offered themselves as 
 
38 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 halting places, and from my giddy height looking 
 down upon the heathery fringed way, and feeling 
 deeply impressed amidst the desolate grandeur of 
 the scene with the nothingness of the mortals to 
 whom so much is given to achieve and to enjoy. 
 
 And so I came at length upon the huge grey 
 rock, against whose surface I had leant when, 
 standing with Phil Maguire by my side, I had lis- 
 tened to his regretful words. It looked silent and 
 sorrowful enough now, that mass of Nature's 
 masonry, with the small-leaved ivy hanging in long 
 festoons over its jagged sides, and with the wild 
 rose and the honeysuckle growing in rich luxuriance 
 about it and around it. 
 
 Sadly did I gaze upon the spot — sadly, for it 
 seemed fraught with the memory of that hunted and 
 (as I felt persuaded) repentant man : but as the 
 time wore on, and no sign of him appeared, I began 
 to fear that never from his own lips should I receive 
 the assurance that the crime of which he was found 
 guilty had not been one of premeditation. 
 
 But suddenly, and just as my stock of patience 
 was beginning to run short, a rustling noise among 
 the leaves arrested my attention, and in another 
 moment a head emerged from what was evidently 
 an aperture in the stone-work, and that head, it is 
 
A SECOND INTERVIEW. 89 
 
 almost needless to say, was that of the man I 
 sought. 
 
 "Whist, yer Honom^" he whispered. "Is no 
 one in it let alone yersel' ? " 
 
 "No one but me, Philip. I wished to see you 
 again, for I have heard your story, and hope you 
 are not so guilty as people say you are." 
 
 "Is it me, yer Honour? Sure I didn't mane to 
 kill the man at all. It was jist a bating I'd a mind 
 to give Thady Flaherty, him as married the girl I 
 loved : and the night was dark, and I'd taken the 
 dhrop, and the hlude was up, and sorra a one of us 
 tell'd the one man from the other. And so the man 
 was dead ; but they found him alive, yer Honour, 
 afore he was kilt : sure it wasn't me as sent the 
 sowl out of him any way." 
 
 " God knows," I answered, mournfully, for I was 
 touched with the man's evident contrition, — " God 
 knows, Philip ; but it was a cruel deed you did 
 among you to beat so savagely an old man like that 
 —one, too, who had not injured any of you." 
 
 "Faix, and he wasn't that old afther all," said 
 Philip, with a vain endeavour to quiet his burthened 
 conscience. " But sure, any way, wasn't he near 
 frind to them as blacken' d me behind my back to the 
 Colleen, and " 
 
40 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD.' 
 
 "Don't attempt to excuse it, Philip. The un- 
 fortunate man is in his grave, and you helped to 
 send him there : there is no mistake in that, I am 
 afraid." 
 
 " No mistake in life, yer Honour. I wish to my 
 Maker there was," and Philip crossed himself de- 
 voutly. "And to think he hadn't so much as an 
 hour to moke his sowl^ and sorra a priest to help 
 him to heaven ! Oh, Musha ! Musha ! but it's a 
 sore time I do be having in the nights by mysel', 
 when the lights do be dancing, and the gintlefolks ^ 
 coming fomenst." And, crouching down at the 
 entrance of the cavern (for such I now perceived 
 that hiding-place to be), the man buried his fingers 
 in his matted hair, shuddering visibly under the 
 influence of those baleful memories. 
 
 " And you can declare to me solemnly that it was 
 not your intention to kill the man?" I asked, unwil- 
 ling to open prematurely a source of hidden conso- 
 lation that I had in store for him. 
 
 " By the blessed Virgin, and by the sowl of 
 my mother, I did not ! " exclaimed the man, with 
 sudden and convincing energy; and I, feeling that 
 he did not forswear himself, -proceeded to remove 
 (as indeed in .part I could) the weight of blood from 
 
 * Gentlefolks —i^'atrte*. 
 
THE HOMICIDE S CONTRITION. 41 
 
 off the tead bent so low in penitence before his 
 God. 
 
 " Have you any recollection," was my first ques- 
 tion, " on what portion of the ill-fated man's person 
 your blows fell that night? " 
 
 " Is it the knocks, yer Honour ? " 
 " I mean, do you remember where you hit him ? " 
 " I do not. It was jist a bating any way." 
 " Well, Philip," I resumed, after a pause, " I 
 have seen the doctor that opened the body " (here 
 Phil crossed himself, and muttered a Musha or two 
 by way of peace offering, as I supposed, to the soul 
 of the departed). "Yes," I continued, after allowing 
 time for the performance of this pious ceremony, 
 *' Yes, I saw him yesterday ; and he assured me — 
 now, Philip, don't be imagining at once that you 
 have nothing to repent of — he assured me that, on 
 examining the body of the deceased, he found at 
 least a pint of whisky fresh taken in the old man's 
 stomach. After this he went on to say that, con- 
 sidering his age, and hearing that he had had a sort 
 of a fit once before, he considered it to be more than 
 likely that old Tom Forestal didn't die by your hand 
 after all." 
 
 Here I came to a pause; and as the man's hands 
 dropped from their hold on his tangled hair, I saw 
 
42 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 his face, and could watch the effect of my communi- 
 cation. And I was glad that I could do so, for 
 never shall I forget the expression of radiant joy 
 with which (before the words could come) he 
 thanked me ! 
 
 At length it was — " Och, thin, the Lord be 
 praised ! " and " The blessing of God be on yer 
 Honour's honour ! " and such like broken sentences, 
 breaking forth at intervals in bursts of heartfelt 
 gratitude. 
 
 After a while he became calmer, and then a 
 hope seemed to dawn upon his mind, that the 
 days of his proscription were at an end, and that the 
 finger of the law would be no longer pointed against 
 him. 
 
 " And is it mysel', yer Honour," he asked eagerly, 
 *' is it mysel' that's beyant the law this day? And 
 will I be let go home to the ould place, to see my 
 father and the little brothers and sisthers?" 
 
 "No hope of that, Philip, I fear ; you have still 
 to stand your trial on that terrible charge, and the 
 doctor's private opinion may possibly have but little 
 weight with the jury, when set against the evidence 
 of hard knocks given, and the fact that a bad feel- 
 ing is known to have existed in your mind towards 
 the deceased. No, it was only by way of some 
 
THE DISCOVERY. 43 
 
 relief to a conscience, weighed down by a sense of 
 guilt, that I imparted those words of comfort to you. 
 There still remains for you deep cause for lasting 
 
 regret and " 
 
 But here I was interrupted by a cry of alarm 
 from my companion, a cry which was followed by a 
 hasty withdrawal of as much of his person as 
 had been exposed to observation. The movement, 
 though rapid, was cautiously effected; but as he 
 drew his head by a backward movement into the 
 cavern, I was pained and surprised to perceive upon 
 his countenance an expression of keen reproach that 
 was evidently intended for me alone. Hurriedly I 
 glanced aroimd me, and was startled indeed when I 
 discovered, toiling up the mountain path, three 
 figures, which were in my opinion those of disguised 
 police-officers. Within a hundred yards of me they 
 paused, and as I read the terrible words " found 
 at last " on their hot, triumphant brows, I was at 
 once enlightened as to the nature of the suspicion 
 that had flashed through the mind of the fugitive. 
 I was so " taken aback," as the saying is, by the 
 unlooked-for appearance of those at length success- 
 ful " man-stalkers," that I remained perfectly still, 
 silently contemplating the advance of the men, as 
 with shortened breath they toiled up the few yards 
 
44 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 of space that yet intervened between them and the 
 spot on which I stood. 
 
 " Beg your pardon, sir," said the foremost of the 
 party, when he was near enough to be heard dis- 
 tinctly. " Beg your pardon, but I must trouble you 
 to stand aside, for Philip Maguire is behind you." 
 
 I did not stir an inch. Heaven knows I had no 
 wish to defeat the ends of justice, or to protect a 
 criminal from the punishment due to his offence ; 
 but I was, I confess, desirous, nay, eager even, to 
 clear myself in the eyes (or rather through the ears) 
 of Philip, of the odious suspicion to which the 
 appearance of the policemen had laid me open. 
 
 I had every reason to suppose that the unfor- 
 tunate man was within hearing distance, and with 
 that conviction I determined to address a few 
 questions to the leader of the party, in whom I at 
 once recognised the sergeant whose conversation 
 with me regarding the now caged, and all but cap- 
 tured delinquent, I have already narrated to you. 
 
 " You have seen him, then? " I asked, adding, as 
 the man seemed preparing to push past me towards 
 the entrance of the cave. " Do not be in such haste, 
 you have him safe enough now; you have the 
 mountain side in view, and he cannot escape you. 
 But for. my satisfaction, and the gratification of my 
 
THE DETECTIVES BAFFLED. 45 
 
 curiosity, pray inform me wtat induced you to seek 
 for Philip Maguire in this place to-day ? " 
 
 " It was just chance, yer Honour," replied the 
 sergeant, who probably shared my opinion as to the 
 impossibility of another failure. " We were walking 
 the hill, having heard that he was last seen this 
 way, and catching sight of a man, who (saving 
 yom- presence) was jist yer Honour, we walked up, 
 and there was Philip's head amongst the bushes." 
 
 So it was through my means, unwittingly indeed, 
 but not the less surely, that poor Philip, whose 
 fault had already been so heavily expiated, was 
 tracked to earth at last ! With a heavy heart, for 
 I saw no means of undoing what I had done, I made 
 way for the men to pass me, and sitting down on a 
 heathery moss hag,^' I rested my shoulder's against 
 the cavern's side, and almost nervously awaited the 
 re-appearance of the party. 
 
 The suspense was not of long duration. Back 
 they came — one by one — each tall form bending 
 low as it passed through the narrow entrance, while 
 on the changed countenances of all there was a 
 blank look of disappointment and consternation ; for, 
 wonderful to relate, they returned without their 
 expected prisoner ! 
 
 * Small elevations on the moorlands resembling niole-liins. 
 
a ,nr,^T,„,^^^^ ^^^ " 
 
 46 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD 
 
 " Stolen away," said I to myself; and I confess 
 (strange as, in the eyes of strict disciplinarians, such 
 an admission may appear) to a feeling of unqualified 
 relief and satisfaction at the thought. Meanwhile 
 the men, with eyes blinking in the dazzling sun- 
 light (into which from the darkness of the cavern 
 they had emerged), told their short and simple 
 story ; and simple enough it was, consisting only in 
 this, that on searching the place they had found it 
 empty, and that to all appearance, Phil Maguire 
 had once more escaped out of their hands ! 
 
 But where he had gone, and how he had con- 
 trived to elude discovery was now the question ; and 
 so intricate did that question seem that, impelled by 
 an invincible curiosity to know the truth, I followed 
 the baffled policemen into the place of refuge, when, 
 once more entering it, they renewed their search 
 after the missing man. 
 
 Through the aperture among the rocks we strug- 
 gled onward, till we found ourselves in a small 
 apartment (if so it may be called) of oblong shape ; 
 and so low, that only in one, and that a small 
 portion of it, could a man of Philip's height have 
 stood upright. For a few minutes we looked — or, I 
 should rather say, for the place was very dark — ^we 
 felt our way about us. There seemed to be no 
 
"the robber's cave." 47 
 
 means of egress, save and except the way by which 
 we had entered ; but the impossibihty of the man's 
 having been spmted away was so evident (except 
 to the superstitious and imaginative minds of his 
 countrymen, who were ah'eady beginning to turn 
 pale with ghostly apprehensions) that I resolved to 
 persevere in my investigation. 
 
 At length, and after one of the men had removed 
 fl'om the mouth of that singular hiding-place a 
 portion of the obstacles which so effectually pre- 
 vented the penetration of light, a discovery was 
 made that led to the solution of the mystery. 
 Hidden most ingeniously by stones that seemed as 
 if placed there by Nature's hand, and (as we after- 
 wards ascertained) covered externally by a thick 
 growth of ivy and of heather which appeared as 
 though it might have flourished there, undisturbed 
 by touch of man, for centuries, a still smaller 
 opening was traceable. To clear away all obstructions 
 was to the reviving policemen a work of short 
 duration ; but this done, the reward of their labours 
 consisted of nothing more than a return of their 
 astonishment and perturbation. 
 
 Along a naiTOw ledge, so narrow that scarcely 
 the foot of mountain goat could seem to tread it 
 safely, so jutting out it was, and undermined and 
 
48 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 hanging over. Along that perilous ledge, with 
 many a hundi^ed feet of empty space, straight as a 
 plumb line's fall of sheer descent upon the spreading 
 rocks beneath, the hunted man had trodden ! 
 
 Creeping on, in snake-like fashion, among the 
 heather, the height of which had concealed him 
 from our view, he must after that fashion have 
 gained the ledge, and there he must have felt indeed 
 as though his life were suspended by a hair ! Then 
 it was that the nerves must have been in mercy 
 hardened for the trial ; and then, let us hope, 
 that he offered up a prayer for pardon to his 
 God! 
 
 A few yards — some twenty, perhaps — of that 
 awful ^a55 (and it was there the path was narrowest) 
 were visible from where we had stood ; and along 
 that distance he must have walked with form erect, 
 but with a beating heart indeed ! Descending next 
 to trace the way that he had trodden, we looked 
 into each other's faces, and read in wondering eyes 
 the question, if mortal man could tread that path 
 and live ? 
 
 Cautiously did we then approach the edge of the 
 precipice, fully expecting to be horrified by the spec- 
 tacle of a human form lying lifeless and mangled on 
 the rocks below. No such piteous object, however, 
 
THE OUTLAW ESCAPES. 49 
 
 shocked our eyes, as, gazing from the " Robber's 
 Cave,""' we watched the hungry cormorant, as in 
 rapid flight he skimmed along the surface of the sea, 
 and Hstened to the screaming sea-gulls, as they 
 waited for their prey beneath the water. 
 
 But to what place had he betaken himself — that 
 man whose life seemed guarded by a charm ? Where 
 had he fled for safety ; and with whom could he 
 seek another refuge? The question was soon 
 answered (answered at least in part, and before we 
 had either hoped or expected that the problem would 
 be solved), for glaring in the sun's rays, and rising 
 on the ground swell that rocked it on the radiant 
 sea, a small white sail appeared ! 
 
 For a moment only had we gazed upon it, when 
 conjecture was converted into certainty, by a sudden 
 exclamation from the sergeant, who, peering through 
 his spy-glass, had taken a hasty survey of the little 
 vessel on which our eyes were fixed. 
 
 " By the powers, it's him ! " he cried, " as sure as 
 fate it's Phil Maguire ! Long life to Mm!''' 
 
 All involuntarily burst forth that cordial cry of 
 sympathy from the lips of him whose weary task 
 had been to follow through long weeks and months 
 
 * The name by which] the cave has long been known in the neigh- 
 bouring districts. 
 
50 THE CRUISE OF THE ''HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 the footsteps of his daring countryman. Perhaps, 
 like me, he pitied him ; perhaps, Uke me, he knew 
 him to be less guilty than he seemed ; perhaps — ^but 
 why attempt to fathom the depths from which that 
 burst of feeling sprung ? Suffice it, that in the hearts 
 of those who heard him, the spark of enthusiasm 
 met with an answering flame, and that then and 
 there did we, with the natural sympathy of all men 
 for the brave and daring, send forth upon the silent 
 air a loud and heartfelt cheer. The echoes answered 
 it, and on the receding vessel, doubtless, the shout 
 was heard, for, standing at the helm, the free man 
 waved " Farewell ; " and a shrouded figure near him, 
 shook her small hand towards us, as we stood 
 grouped upon the giant mountain's side. 
 
 Ere another month had passed away (and the 
 news was told me by the friends he left behind him), 
 the width of the broad Atlantic lay between Phil 
 Maguire and the land of the law he had outraged. 
 Disguised as a beggar-woman, and with his tall form 
 bent forward, so as to personate by means of its 
 dorsal projection the bundle of huge dimensions 
 that is invariably borne on the shoulders of the pro- 
 fessional "tramp," the Exile, accompanied by the 
 faithful Katie, found his way to that busy port in 
 England, whence so many of Ireland's children have 
 
PHIL MAGUIRE IN THE FAR WEST. 51 
 
 embarked in search of other, and more prosperous 
 fortunes. In due time, the ship in which he had 
 taken passage, freighted with her Hving cargo of 
 eager, hoping emigrants, reached the land of pro- 
 mise, and scarcely had a twelvemonth passed away, 
 when from the farthest West news came to home, 
 that Philip and his wife were living in prosperity and 
 content in the land to which they had fled for refuge. 
 It was not long, too, before money for the ould and 
 the little folks at home came fr'om the frinds who 
 were willing that their exile should be shared by 
 those they had left behind them. So Phil Maguire 
 has those he loved in the Old counthry near to him 
 in the New ; whilst still on the wild moor the little 
 hovel raises its decaying thatch above the road side, 
 and still near the one wind-tossed tree the lean cow 
 seeks a shelter from the rain and blast, which are 
 (excepting themselves) the worst enemies of this 
 thriftless and unmendahle people. 
 
 E 2 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 PROTESTANT ANATHEMAS HIGHLANDERS' OPINIONS 
 
 TOM MALLEY's lugs. 
 
 The following day (it was an early one in August) 
 I arrived at the end of my journey, and took up my 
 quarters with an old friend and not very distant re- 
 lation, who occupied, for the time being, a small 
 fishing-lodge, beautifully situated at the foot of a 
 mountain which rose almost precipitously from the 
 shores of a trout-filled loch. 
 
 Since last I had seen him, Edward Fairholme had 
 married, and his wife, the " Bertha" .of these pages, 
 was as pleasant and as cheery a companion as a 
 man could wish for in a mountain solitude. She was 
 a good sailor, too, and fond of the sea, a great deside- 
 ratum on the present occasion, as Fairholme and I 
 were joint proprietors of a small yacht yclept the 
 " Humming Bird," the which vessel was a pretty 
 cutter of thirty-five tons burthen, the crew of which 
 consisted of but two men and a boy, the "master" 
 
THE MISSION CHURCH. 53 
 
 being an Englishman, and the rest natives of the 
 country we were sojourning in. 
 
 It was Sunday in that wild Western Land, and 
 we had, about a week after my arrival, landed in our 
 dingy on the low rocks which fringe this portion of 
 the coast. We had been cruizing for two days 
 amongst the islands in the bay, and had enjoyed our 
 sail wondrously, for our little vessel had behaved 
 admirably during rather rough and squally weather 
 — weather which caused us greatly to enjoy the 
 change to light winds and fitful gleams of sun- 
 shine. 
 
 The " Humming Bird " now lay in a sheltered 
 cove amongst the rocks, whilst we, obeying the 
 summons of a single tinkling bell which called us 
 to the House of Prayer (or building raised from 
 the funds of the Church Mission Society), soon 
 found ourselves standing, prayer-books in hand, be- 
 side the porch, and waiting for the coming of the 
 minister. The church was of very small dimensions, 
 and of the plainest, or, to speak more correctly, of 
 the ugliest order of architecture. It stood alone at 
 the extremity of a barren moor, there being no 
 ostensible village, and the only houses that had any 
 pretension to be called such, were hidden from our 
 view by a rising ground, round which a humble imi- 
 
54 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 tation of a wood had doubtless long been struggling 
 against the severity of the western gales. 
 
 From those more imposing tenements (there were 
 but two which differed from the dwellings mentioned 
 in the old surveys as having " only one smoak "), a 
 society emerged whose outward adornment was in 
 striking contrast to that of then- (still) Romanist 
 frinds around. 
 
 As a rule, the converts are greatly addicted to fine 
 clothes ; and there was no exception to this amongst 
 the domestic servants, school-teachers, male and 
 female, and the dapper Scripture-readers, who formed 
 almost the entire congregation assembled in that 
 Protestant place of worship. 
 
 A few (I think they numbered six) children repre- 
 sented the school, and there were eight souls, in- 
 cluding our three selves, who had never bowed the 
 knee to Baal, which, being interpreted, means that 
 they had been " Protestants evermore." The rest 
 of the congregation was composed, as I before men- 
 tioned, of the converting staff, and of the family of 
 the officiating clergyman, whilst two or three rather 
 unpromising looking proselytes took their seats on a 
 distant bench, with an air unmistakeably ashamed 
 and sheepish, and looking as though they had not 
 yet become inured to the always loudly-expressed 
 
PROTESTANT ANATHEMAS. 55 
 
 contempt of their mass-going friends and relations 
 ^^ho had not as yet been lured by bribes and 
 promises over the Protestant pale. 
 
 The minister, who was a very young, and a 
 necessarily inexperienced man, with the loudest of 
 voices and the broadest of brogues, rated severely 
 the " brands he had plucked from the burning," 
 unjustly, too, I thought; since they committed a 
 " mortal sin," according to their former creed, in 
 entering a Protestant place of worship, and they 
 should, in all justice, have been encouraged ac- 
 cordingly. It seemed also a little hard upon them 
 to dwell so heavily on the awful fact that all their 
 friends and relations who had lived and died 
 as " Romanists" were (and that even in cases where 
 their errors had never been pointed out to them) 
 expiating their fatal mistakes in the hottest fire of 
 the hottest place for ever ! 
 
 Heavens! how energetically did that Christian 
 minister shower curses on those erring souls and 
 bodies ! What shocking names he gave them, and 
 what awful anathemas did he invoke upon the heads 
 of those misguided beings who dared to lift their eyes 
 to the " vile and odious emblem of the Cross ! " 
 
 The sermon lasted more than an hour, during the 
 greater part of which period I confess to a feverish 
 
longing to escape from the place poisoned by the 
 breath of man's evil passions, and heated by the wild 
 excess of headstrong zeal. 
 
 "Can this be piety?" asked Fairholme, as, with 
 a feeling of indescribable relief, we stood once more 
 beneath the quiet of the sky, inhaling the sweet air 
 of Heaven. 
 
 On every side, save where the unfathomable 
 sea spread calm and blue before us, a mountainous 
 waste arose, steep and heather-clothed, with the 
 cattle of a thousand hills grazing on their rugged 
 surface. 
 
 We were walking slowly onward, and my friend, 
 after a few minutes' pause, during which I, at least, 
 had been pondering on his question, returned to the 
 subject of the sermon we had been condemned to 
 listen to. 
 
 "Is it not terrible to think," he said — and there 
 was a deep and mournful seriousness in his voice — 
 " Is it not terrible to reflect, that in all ages since the 
 world began, a difference in religious faith should 
 have been the most certain means of exciting the 
 evil passions of men, and thus of leading them on 
 to crime?" 
 
 "Terrible, indeed," responded Bertha; "and to 
 hear the blessed symbol of our salvation reviled, and 
 
MISTAKEN ZEAL. 57 
 
 the mercifiil God in whom we trust held up to these 
 poor people as unjust and cruel, is neither more nor 
 less than blasphemous impiety." 
 
 " They err from prejudice and from excess of 
 zeal," remarked Fairholme; "but the evil that they 
 work is none the less potent because some excuse 
 may be found for the doers of it." 
 
 " Then," said I, somewhat abruptly, for I was 
 very anxious to learn his opinion on the important 
 subject we had touched upon; — "then you (who 
 have certainly lived long enough in the country to 
 form a correct judgment in the matter) do not ap- 
 prove of the Chm'ch Missions in Ireland ? You 
 think the movement a mistake?" 
 
 "As it is at present conducted, I can answer 
 your question unhesitatingly — though with great 
 regret — in the affirmative ; for, in my opinion, the 
 doctrines which are preached, as well as the class 
 of men (though of course with many exceptions) 
 who are employed in the task, are calculated to 
 retard rather than to advance its progress. They 
 seem to forget that it is by patience and by time 
 that the "perfect work" is to be done, and not by 
 coarse invectives, passionate appeals, and threats 
 for which they have in the Book of God no 
 warrant." 
 
58 THE CRUISE OP THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 "It is very difficult," I remarked, " for people 
 at home in England to learn the truth in such mat- 
 ters ; for opinion concerning them is conceived by 
 prejudice and born of religious hatred." 
 
 " Fostered, too," said Edward, " uncharitable as 
 this may sound, by the time-servingness, self-seeking, 
 and ^jobbery' which are at least di^ rife in this country 
 as such evils are at home. But we will leave, for 
 the present, the great question of the value of the 
 Mission Society as a religious motive-power, and 
 merely speak of some of the mistakes which have, 
 I think, interfered signally with the success of the 
 object which so many excellently-meaning people 
 have had in view. I have already alluded to the 
 unwise selection of the mission clergymen generally ; 
 but for the fact that they are seldom gentlemen^ and 
 rarely men of enlarged views, who is to blame? 
 This is a question which it is hard to answer ; only, 
 for my part, I would mildly suggest to the Mission, 
 that a diminution of the well-paid, well-dressed, and 
 very objectionable staff of Scripture-readers, would 
 leave more of the funds of the Society for the 
 clegyman's pay, who might by this means, while 
 he would then have a little more occupation on his 
 hands, be enabled to dress more in accordance with 
 his profession and degree, which in itself would 
 
SCRIPTURE-READERS. 59 
 
 secure tim a higher amount of consideration than 
 he at present enjoys." 
 
 " But in what," I asked, " consists your objec- 
 tion to the Scripture-readers, of whose merits we 
 have often heard so much from the advocates in 
 England of this converting society?" 
 
 " Principally in this," said Edward ; " namely, 
 that while they are what is called trained to read 
 the Bible and to expound it to the people, they are 
 in general the very last persons in the world fitted 
 to perform what must be considered in this country 
 as a most delicate as well as a difficult duty ; for, 
 think you, that in cases where the nicest tact, the 
 most judicious mental management, and a thorough 
 insight into the weaknesses of human nature are 
 qualities indispensable for success, that the blunder- 
 ing efforts of men, young in years, chosen from 
 amongst the poorest classes of the peasantry, and 
 reared in the narrow-minded doctrines of religious 
 fanaticism, can be of any beneficial avail in the 
 work which has been so rashly undertaken, and is 
 being so very inefficiently carried out?" 
 
 " And the peasantry in this country," suggested 
 Bertha, " are so very acute in their perceptions, and 
 so given to a blind respect for their superiors in 
 manners and in station ! Added to which, as 
 
60 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD.' 
 
 Edward and I have more than once had oppor- 
 tunities of noticing, the Scripture-readers sent to 
 combat and destroy the people's behef in their 
 comfortable creed are men who have, from unwil- 
 lingness as lads to work for the benefit of their 
 families, been — I may almost say — kidnapped by 
 the missionaries, in order that they may be cited as 
 brands plucked from the burning, and that thus they 
 may become instruments in the conversion (as well- 
 dressed Protestants) of their still ragged relations 
 and friends !" 
 
 " But," said I, rather dismayed by the indisputable 
 mass of evidence produced by Fairholme and his 
 wife against an undertaking, which I had been pre- 
 viously led to consider in so different a light, 
 "would you advocate the abandoning the measure 
 because it is ill carried out, and would you " 
 
 " I beg your pardon for interrupting you," said 
 Edward ; " but your questions will, I am convinced 
 beforehand, involve the whole question of Church 
 Reform in Ireland, than which no act of the Legis- 
 lature was ever in any country more imperatively 
 called for, were it only for the relief of our English 
 consciences, inasmuch as by our own misrule we 
 have put the people in the hands of so low a class 
 of priesthood, as are at present the spiritual 
 
BEKTHA FAIRHOLME: 61 
 
 directors of the Irish peasantry in this unhappy- 
 country ! " 
 
 While Fairhohne was speaking, I could not but 
 be struck by the elevation of his sentiments, and by 
 the serious, speaking beauty of his face. It was 
 some two years since we had met, and since that 
 time my friend Edward had, as I have before said, 
 married ; but what was less satisfactory, he had also 
 aged considerably, for though still a young man (he 
 was little more than thirty), there were lines of care 
 upon his face, and his hair was thickly sprinkled 
 with grey. His wife was not handsome, as some 
 men count beauty, but her countenance was full of 
 sense and tenderness, and to Edward she was evi- 
 dently all in all. 
 
 We were standing together (while I made this 
 short survey of my dear friend's looks) on the 
 extreme edge of some steep and abrupt crags, and 
 looking down upon the " slant and winding depths " 
 of the rushing sea. There was but little wind, and 
 that was from the shore, so we — the Saxon strangers 
 — seated ourselves in quiet comfort on the purple 
 heather, and gazed down admiringly upon the white 
 crests of the dark-blue waves. 
 
 We had been there but a few minutes, when a 
 man, who, I perceived at a glance, was not an 
 
6^ THE CKUISE OF THE '' HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 Irishman, approached our resting-place. He was 
 a fine-looking young fellow, and dressed in the 
 national costume of a Scotch Highlander — was a 
 " Red shank," in short, as the poet Spenser, in his 
 " History of Ireland," unceremoniously denominates 
 the Gallic invaders of the land. 
 
 He touched his cap respectfully, and we needed 
 no further encouragement to begin a coversation. 
 
 " This is a fine country," was my opening remark, 
 after " good-days " had been exchanged between us 
 and the Celt. 
 
 " Weel, it is a fine country jeest," responded the 
 Scotchman, in the slow cautiousness so peculiar to 
 the land of his birth. "It's jeest a fine country, 
 div ye ken how to live in it, whatever." 
 
 "Is it difficult to know that?" was my next 
 question. 
 
 " Weel, it is, forbye the people, but ye'll never ken 
 what neext they'll be doing. They're but a set of 
 idle loons, wi' their rags and their tatters. But 
 they're getting a sight fewer in the country side, 
 and it's but a wee bittie of money the priest gets 
 frae them noo, I'm thinking, for all the craving they 
 have, whatever." 
 
 " Have the priests much influence hereabouts ? " 
 inquired Bertha. 
 
HIGHLANDERS OPINIONS. 63 
 
 " Weel," ejaculated tlie Highlander, " I dinna 
 ken what's your meaning ? " 
 
 "I mean, do the poor people obey him? Do 
 they mind what he says, in short? " 
 
 " I canna jeest say," replied the Celt, with charac- 
 teristic prudence. " They wudna leek, may be, to 
 be fleeing in the face of him, but they'd play him a 
 treek the day, I'm theenking, that a mon dawrna do 
 afore, whatever." 
 
 " What sort of a trick ? " I asked. 
 
 " Weel, it wud be abune this ways. The priests, 
 ye ken, hold what they ca' stations abune the 
 country, ganging fra hoose to hoose, and fra ane 
 puir body to anither, hearing their sins, and eating 
 their bit dinners. It's twa days agone that they 
 were cooming this wa', and minding to stop at one 
 Paddy Hogan's in the hoose fornenst ye, where the 
 laird's herd lives ; but the mon bethought him, that 
 he'd suner hae the twa puns o' siller in his bit 
 pocket, and the guse on the cabin floor, so he jeest 
 tellt them as 't wa' the landlord's wull they shouldna' 
 coom on the land, and " 
 
 "And so it jeest wa'," put in another and an 
 older Highland Scotchman who, having advanced 
 towards us unperceived, had overheard the latter 
 part of his countryman's statement. "So it jeest 
 
64 THE CKUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 wa' ; and I'm theenking it's no reet not to let their 
 ain clergy coom amongst them, guin the misguided 
 creatures wish it their nainsels. I ken for sure, 
 that the baillie tellt to Hogan that he'd be sent 
 awa' frae the land guin he had the priests in the 
 hoose. I ken that's true, whatever ! " 
 
 By this time a small, but evidently inquisitive, 
 crowd had approached to within some fifty yards of 
 us, and among them we could not but notice an 
 individual, whose peculiarity of appearance was at 
 once ludicrous and unpleasant. 
 
 He was a man of about forty years of age, whose 
 singularly unprepossessing countenance was im- 
 pressed with the qualities of cunning, cruelty, and 
 hypocrisy. I formed this idea before I knew his 
 history — a history which, in a few words, I shall 
 narrate to the reader. 
 
 Tom Malley (that was his name) chanced, during 
 the "bad times," to be the tenant of a small 
 "holding" in the island of Achill. The details ot 
 the miseries endured by the starving Irish during 
 the terrible '47 year, are no secret to those who 
 sympathised so cordially with them in their suffer- 
 ings, and who generously came to the rescue with 
 English gold and food from English shores. But, 
 amongst the many, and the wondrous examples 
 
TOM MALLEY. 65 
 
 of patience whicli might be recorded of that dreadful 
 period, there were not a few instances of lawless 
 theft and of daring piracy, and amongst these ex- 
 ceptions we must record the case of Tom Malley, 
 the hero of this short narrative. 
 
 He was a tolerably well-educated young fellow, 
 was strapping Tom Malley, for his father had been 
 what is called a "snug man," and had given his 
 children the "larning" which all his countrymen 
 are so eager to possess. But as I said before, the 
 bad times arrived ; then the rent came due, with no 
 assets to meet the call, while hunger gnawed at the 
 vitals of the wretched family, and fever laid them 
 low. 
 
 Perhaps of all the disti'icts of the doomed land, 
 none were so heavily visited as that wretched por- 
 tion of it where Malley lived. A lawless set, almost 
 beyond the pale of the law, and priest-ridden in the 
 extreme, were the inhabitants of Achill, and of the 
 adjacent coast and islands. What wonder, then, 
 that, reckless, starving, and taught by their faith to 
 think little of the sin they meditated, a deed piratical 
 and desperate was planned and put into execution 
 by some of the most adventurous of those heavily- 
 visited creatures ? 
 
 It chanced one autumn day that a vessel on her 
 
6Q THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 Way from Liverpool to the port of Galway, was 
 sighted ; the which ship was heavily freighted with 
 food for the hungry Irish. 
 
 She was a good-sized craft, manned by a crew of 
 four men and the captain ; and she kept on her 
 course steadily, little suspecting the fate that was in 
 store for her. 
 
 "When nearly opposite a portion of the coast 
 called Blacksod Bay, the wind, which had been before 
 both fresh and fair for them, suddenly fell, and the 
 schooner lay becalmed upon the water. She had 
 not remained long in that position, when a large 
 country boat, crowded with men, half-clothed and 
 with unshorn faces thin and yellow from famine and 
 from fever, came alongside the deck of the schooner, 
 and begged to have speech of the captain. "What 
 they said is of little consequence, for the demand 
 was only made in order to divert the attention of 
 the Crew, while half-a-dozen boats, loaded like their 
 own with reckless men, came near to the other side 
 of the vessel, the deck of which was a moment later 
 crowded with the starving pirates. 
 
 Resistance to some forty men, all armed with the 
 stout shillelagh, without which no Irishman's accou- 
 trement is complete, would have been an act of 
 madness ; so the work of depredation was begun 
 
THE ACHILL PIEATES. 67 
 
 and finished. It lasted for three hours, for many 
 hundi'ed tons of meal had to be turned over to then- 
 new owners, but the feat was accomplished at last, 
 and the unlucky schooner (in ballast now) was 
 allowed to pursue her voyage. 
 
 We were not informed whether justice ever 
 undertook to prosecute the authors of that daring 
 deed, but if so, it is more than probable that signal 
 failure followed on the attempt to punish the 
 oifenders. 
 
 One assertion was, however, made by his enemies, 
 but whether truly or otherwise I will not attempt to 
 say ; but it was no less a fact than that Tom Malley, 
 the son of the destitute Achill farmer, had been first 
 and foremost in the pnatical adventure which had 
 been carried out so boldly and successfully. The 
 story was generally told, and, though possibly with- 
 out foundation, was as generally believed ; and this 
 was a portion of the strange-looking man's retro- 
 spective history as it was told to us by the commu- 
 nicative Highlander. 
 
 " But what," was our very natural query, when 
 he had finished speaking — " what is the reason why 
 that broad black ribbon is bound so carefully about 
 his ears ? Did he receive a wound in the af&'ay ? or 
 is it only a precaution against the cold?" 
 
 F 2 
 
68 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 The Scotchman smiled grimly — 
 
 " It's jeest to hide the place where his lugs were 
 takit frae," he answered. 
 
 I was sufficiently conversant with the North 
 British dialect to understand what was meant, and 
 therefore responded in a voice of horror — 
 
 " His lugs ! Do you mean to say the man has no 
 ears?" 
 
 " It's jeest tha'at : for the mission folks got a grip 
 on him, and where he got the piekle meal, and the 
 soup milk, there he bided, till one fine day they 
 made a Scripture Reader of him, as they ca's it, and 
 Tom Malley went out with his Bible to expound to 
 the puu- doited creatures round the country." 
 
 " But his ears — how did he lose his ears ? " 
 
 " Jeest as a mon may say from aggravation. He 
 didn't mind the uproar and the whilli-whawing, but 
 went deeving on ; read, read, read, and giving his 
 company where they sae muckle as told him it was 
 not wanted. It seems he couldna hold the tongue 
 in his heed, puir body, and for that he was always at 
 the lodge in parritch time. But one day (it's three 
 years agone now) the graceless loons, that were 
 wearying for the tail of his discourse, jeest took his 
 head between their hands, and cut the lugs of it off 
 — whatever." 
 
A PROMISING CONVERT. 69 
 
 The story seemed almost too horrible to be true, 
 nor would we believe it, or its scarcely less probable 
 sequel, till by careful investigation we had convinced 
 ourselves of the fact. 
 
 The ears of the hapless Scripture Reader had, 
 whilst intruding into a cabin where his presence was 
 unwelcome, been, as the Scotchman had informed us, 
 "crapped of" by the unscrupulous Papists! We 
 could not learn that any attempt had been made to 
 obtain justice against the perpetrators of this cruel 
 outrage ; and we may be quite certain that by their 
 own clergy, the sin, if considered in that light at all, 
 was pronounced a very venial transgression. 
 
 But it must not be supposed that honest Tom 
 Malley continued on his way without any back- 
 slidings from the path which he had entered; for 
 whether it was that the " pari'itch pot " grew less 
 inviting, or the " soup milk " scarce ; or whether, 
 fancying that they had landed him high and dry, his 
 captors were lulled into a fatal security, — certain it 
 is, that Tom, six months after the loss of his " lugs," 
 became again — for a season at least — a Romanist. 
 How often those transformations had been effected 
 we could not ascertain, nor am I qualified to speak 
 confidently of any fact save that he did lose his ears 
 in the manner I have described, and that we did see 
 
70 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 him — minus those appendages — ^kneeling among the 
 promising converts, his black band round his head, 
 and a good frieze coat upon his back, in the little 
 Mission Church upon the moors. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 FATHER MAGUIRE. OWEN KELLY's FATE. 
 
 When we had been rather more than a week 
 established in the mountain lodge, which I will 
 designate as " Glanbeg," our small and pleasant 
 party received an unexpected and not very welcome 
 addition in the person of Mr. Oswald Tremlett, an 
 English country gentleman, possessed of a limited 
 landed estate, but of considerable personal impor- 
 tance, according to his own belief, in the county of 
 Devonshne. A narrow-minded individual was this 
 invader of our mountain solitudes — ^narrow-minded, 
 prejudiced, and essentiaWj parochial. But he was 
 Mrs. Fairholme's brother, so we were bound, not 
 only to permit of his encroachment, but to greet him 
 with words of welcome, which m?/ conscience at 
 least whispered to me were false. 
 
 It was Mr. Tremlett' s first introduction to a 
 country which he had fi'om his childhood been 
 accustomed to look upon as the head-quarters of all 
 
72 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 that is dangerous, botli to individuals, to society, and 
 to the form of religion which, in his narrow-minded 
 bigotry, he believed to be the only one capable of 
 saving ^ human soul from punishment everlasting. 
 
 A solemn, smileless face he had, long and nar- 
 row as the prejudices which had grown with his 
 growth and strengthened with his strength ; in 
 short, it was scarcely possible to imagine a being so 
 unlike our bright-faced Bertha, as the pale self-con- 
 centrated-looking brother who, late on one rainy 
 evening, drojpped in upon us, to our exceeding great 
 discomfiture. 
 
 As might have been expected from this short 
 sketch of our guest, he arrived full of complaints of 
 the inconveniences of the journey, the slowness of 
 the travelling, the wretchedness of the climate, and 
 the importunity of the beggars. And then the 
 food ! The miserable poultry, fed on dirt heaps and 
 dressed in grease ; and the eggs, which according to 
 an ancient writer,'*' two centuries, I believe, ago, 
 " were laid and kept in their cabbins in dampes and 
 musty stenches, and did partake of the same." 
 
 " They are not a bit improved since St. Patrick 
 came over to see what he could do with them, that 
 is my firm belief," said Tremlett, with a self-satisfied 
 
 * Vide Sir William Petty's Political Survey of Ireland. 
 
PADDYS MARE. 73 
 
 smile at his own facetiousness ; " and only look at 
 that horse," he added, pointing to the lean, little 
 well-bred mare which stood with heaving flanks at 
 the door. " It could hardly go a yard — stopped at 
 every rising ground." 
 
 " When, of course, you were informed by the 
 driver," interrupted Fairholme, " that she was never 
 known to do such a thing in the course of all her 
 twenty years of life before ? " 
 
 " Bedad thin and she was not, your Honour," put 
 in Paddy, who was listening to the conversation. 
 *' She's the best mare to go between this and 
 Daublin," and as he spoke he smoothed Biddy's 
 " bald face " encouragingly. 
 
 " I don't know what you mean by going," said 
 Tremlett, taking out his watch; "we've been two 
 hours coming eight miles, and I have a good mind 
 to report the fact of the great cruelty you have com- 
 mitted in driving such an animal at all. Why she 
 is nothing but skin and bone ; look at her ribs, and 
 say if you ought not to be ashamed of yourself." 
 
 " Bedad thin, yer Honour," said Paddy, scratching 
 his shock head, for he was sorely troubled between 
 the claims of his mare on his championship, and his 
 natural as well as national desire to agree in every 
 opinion advanced by a gentleman. "Bedad thin, 
 
74 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 yer Honour — she is poor, surely. It's the dhrop 
 she has in her as does it, and sure she's a great 
 little horse, and carries a dale of ground." 
 
 We all laughed, even Tremlett, at poor Paddy's 
 excuses ; and then the new arrival, who by his own 
 account was extremely to be pitied, inasmuch as he 
 was cold and wet and wearied, followed us into the 
 little parlour — at the scant comforts of which, and its 
 almost carpetless floor, he evidently looked with a 
 considerable amount of contempt. 
 
 " We haven't got much of a house, you see," 
 said my friend Edward, apologetically. " But we 
 live a great deal out of doors, both on land and 
 sea, and " 
 
 "How ahont the weather?" put in Tremlett, 
 sarcastically. " Here have I been three days in the 
 country, and seen nothing but rain, and heard 
 nothing but wind. I declare I never closed my 
 ears last night for the noise of the wild west wind 
 blowing and wailing over the Atlantic, and then 
 coming with a thump and a bluster against the 
 window-panes, till I thought they must all have been 
 shattered by the concussion." 
 
 " Not at all," laughed Bertha. " They are used 
 to it, as we are. You should have been on board 
 the * Humming Bird,' in the bay with us. It was 
 
DISCONTENT. 75 
 
 delicious, with the waves in the httle harbour wash- 
 ing against her sides, and Con Navan (that's our 
 second man) singing his wild ditties about colleens, 
 and cows, and fairies, all mixed up together. It was 
 quite delightful !" 
 
 I rather doubted whether the description given 
 by his sister exactly came up to Tremlett's idea of 
 an agreeable situation ; for he only shrugged his 
 shoulders, as he continued the solacing of his inner 
 man with the broiled salmon and whisky punch 
 which had been set* before him. 
 
 The next morning, Mrs. Fairholme's discontented 
 brother had something else to see and to hear 
 besides the wind and rain, which had so sorely tried 
 his patience and his temper ; for a glorious sun 
 shone out from the clear blue sky, while the small 
 white fleecy clouds moving slowly onwards painted 
 patches of a darker hue, and of strange fantastic 
 shapes upon the green of the mountains where the 
 white sheep cropped the dainty herbage, looking in 
 the distance like scattered stones in places inacces- 
 sible to the foot of man. 
 
 I was the first awake in our wild mountain home, 
 and the first in my greetings to the rather rare but 
 ever-welcome sun as he warmed the walls of our 
 often-moistened retreat, and reminded me of the 
 
76 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 gracious promise which in this rain-visited country- 
 it is sometimes hard enough to remember : — " That 
 spring-time and harvest shall not cease;" and that 
 the "waters shall never more become a flood to 
 destroy all flesh." > 
 
 Our house — if such a cabin may be dignified by 
 the appellation — was situated about eighty yards up 
 a steep mountain-side, and round and about it were 
 a few of such stunted trees and shrubs as had suc- 
 ceeded in defying the attacks, unremitting and 
 severe, of the wind and rain so deprecated by our 
 now sleeping guest. There was, however, a little 
 garden in a sheltered nook, in the which Bertha 
 took immense delight, luxuriating in its masses of 
 the gaudy hydrangea, and the fuchsia with its crim- 
 son bells fluttering in the breeze, and on that 
 pleasant early morning shaking its gorgeous sprays, 
 wet and glistening with the rains of yesterday. 
 
 I was, as I have said, looking from my window, 
 and admiring the pleasant sights around me, when, 
 infinitely to my disgust, for the instrument is an 
 object of my especial detestation, I was startled by 
 the discordant sound of pipes beneath my window. 
 Contrary to their wont, for the peasantry are great 
 " lie-a-beds," an old man was lazily employed (the 
 while he Hstened to the stirring hornpipe) in mow- 
 
TEMPTATION. 7T 
 
 ing the miniature la^vn that lay between the house- 
 door and the mountain road. The said labourer's 
 garments were anything but whole, the nether ones 
 especially ; for the divers-coloured patches had 
 broken from their confining stitches, and hung 
 loosely from about his limbs. His face was smile- 
 less, and his hair both scant and grey. Occupation 
 seemed, as is usual with his class, distasteful to, him, 
 for ever and anon he paused in the performance of 
 his legitimate duties, to mark how the world went 
 on around him. But sluggish as his nature 
 seemed, it was in the power of the pipes to in- 
 fuse a new spirit into his breast ; and as he leant 
 upon his scythe to listen, I took note of the strug- 
 gle that was warring within him. Duty said " mow 
 on," but inclination and the dancing soul of an Irish- 
 man called him to the "jig," and Paddy, after a brief 
 attempt at resistance, yielded to the strong and fierce 
 temptation ! 
 
 It was no small amusement to watch the ragged 
 man's preparations for the dance, they, however, 
 being simple enough, consisting merely in the 
 removal of his battered hat, and the gathering 
 together of his wandering locks ; after which pre- 
 liminary ceremony, he laid his scythe upon the 
 ground, and the jocund sport began in earnest. 
 
78 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIED. 
 
 The extreme gravity of his countenance was in 
 entertaining contrast with the rapid movement of 
 his feet, nor was the former in the least degree 
 modified by the arrival of a fair partner to share in 
 the fleeting pleasure of the hour. The new per- 
 former, who had been watching his proceedings 
 with silent longing from behind the door, was at 
 length overcome by her desire to join in the amuse- 
 ment, and with a seriousness of manner fully equal 
 to his own, she (a rosy housemaid — active and bare- 
 footed) placed herself opposite to her aged partner, 
 and displayed for the space of twenty minutes a 
 degree of skill and activity fully equivalent to his 
 own. At the conclusion of the ceremony, a dignified 
 salute, which would not have disgraced a minuet 
 de la Cour, was exchanged between the two, and 
 then the entertainment ended as suddenly as it had 
 begun. 
 
 " Why, Biddy," said I to the girl, when I entered 
 the Httle parlour where she was an-anging the 
 breakfast service, " you're a great dancer ; but you 
 should have had a younger boy." 
 
 " Troth, yer Honour," said Biddy, with a laugh, 
 " it's the ould men that do be dancing betther nor 
 the young boys the day. Sure it's Larry King was 
 the grate dancer evermore. It's mysel' as minds 
 
BIDDYS STORY. 79 
 
 the day when as much as two pipers would be 
 stopping in it ; but it's Kttle foon there'd be at all 
 since the bad times came — ^bad cess to them, saving 
 your Honour's presence." And Biddy heaved a 
 tender and regretful sigh to the memory of bygone 
 pleasures, as she departed to her daily duties. 
 
 "That girl's story is a melancholy one," said 
 Fairholme, who, from having resided for more than 
 a year in that portion of the West, was well ac- 
 quainted with the private history of many of the 
 country people. " She was courted, a year ago, by 
 a young man — a fine 6oy, too, as they call a well- 
 grown lad in this country ; and indeed, for that 
 matter, young Kelly would have deserved the 
 appellation anywhere, for he was tolerably indus- 
 trious, always good-humoured, and I believe, as far 
 as circumstances and his religious education per- 
 mitted — honest. But he came of a bad stock, and 
 his father, who was an habitual drunkard, and a 
 more than suspected sheepstealer, refused his con- 
 sent to the aUiance on which his son had set his 
 heart." 
 
 "And why?" I inquired : " if the girl was, as you 
 say, well conducted and of good repute." 
 
 " Why? Simply because poor little Biddy's mar- 
 riage portion was less by a matter of five shillings 
 
80 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 or SO than the sum which the father declared would 
 be equivalent to Owen's possessions. There was an 
 old feud too, I fancy, between the families, but that 
 was a minor consideration : for closely as Irishmen 
 treasure up the memory of a wrong, they hug their 
 money closer still, and " 
 
 "But what were the possessions," interrupted 
 Tremlett, " on which the man set so high a store? " 
 
 " I can hardly tell you — a cow, may be, and per- 
 haps a pound's worth of silver. I have known a 
 marriage in this country delayed for weeks for the 
 sake of a three-and-sixpence which was not forth- 
 coming on the lady's side when the eventful day 
 was approaching." 
 
 "A hitch in the settlements," I put in, flippantly 
 enough. 
 
 "Exactly. But this peculiarity in the Irish 
 peasant is not without its good side, for there is 
 something both respectable and praiseworthy in the 
 strong feeling of duty — or call it what you will — 
 which prompts them to lay by, even from their 
 births, marriage portions for their daughters." 
 
 "True," I rejoined; "and I am now able to 
 account for the condolences I once heard addressed 
 by a poor man to his neighbour, on the birth of a 
 girl to share the already over-crowded cabin. 
 
FATHER MAGUIRE. 81 
 
 * Sliure you're in debt now, Paddy, any way,' he 
 said." 
 
 " Which meant that a sum of money for the girl's 
 dower was already owing to the imaginary, and 
 perhaps still unborn individual by whom the young 
 lady's hand might eventually be claimed. But to 
 return to Johnny Kelly, who, as I have said, re- 
 fused his consent to make his son happy, although 
 the hoy (they had but ' the one '), and the wife as 
 well, prayed urgently night and day for the in- 
 exorable parent's consent. For a while they bore 
 their sorrow and their waiting patiently, for Biddy 
 was what they call a * quite ' girl, and Owen (her 
 betrothed) was ' loth to vex the mother ; ' but there 
 is a limit to human endurance, and when that was 
 arrived at, * sorra a hap'orth ' could they stay longer 
 apart. But not to make my story too long — Owen 
 persuaded Biddy, after a power of coaxing, to make 
 a moonlight flitting of it, and that effected, they lost 
 no time in appearing before the parish priest, with a 
 request that he would make all smooth by joining 
 them too^ether in the bonds of matrimonv. Now 
 Father Maguire was a cunning fellow enough, and 
 had as keen an eye to the silver as Johnny Kelly 
 himself, so what did he do (knowing that the parties 
 had a small something to begin the world with), but 
 
82 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 insist upon their little wealth, * and as much again 
 to that/ being handed over to himself as the wed- 
 ding fee! The case was an urgent one, and he 
 knew it, so in spite of prayers, promises, and en- 
 treaties, he kept to the first word, viz.^ that short of 
 the sum of four pounds ten, paid in advance, poor 
 Biddy had no chance of being made *an honest 
 woman ' of — ' that turn at least.' " 
 
 " How disgraceful," I exclaimed, " to put the 
 screw on in such a case. But how did it end ? " 
 
 "You shall hear," continued Fairholme, while 
 Bertha's speaking face told me that the tale would 
 be a sad one. 
 
 " What I am going to relate took place in another 
 county, and several months ago, but the circum- 
 stances are still fresh in my recollection. Bertha 
 and I had been out riding, and returning along the 
 banks of a rapid river, we were surprised to see a 
 large crowd, principally women, collected near the 
 brink. It was evident that something not only 
 unusual, but terrible, had occurred, for there rose 
 from every throat the wild howl which the women 
 of the country invariably send forth over a dead or 
 dying fellow-creature, and in this instance the 
 tumult and uproar were violent in the extreme. 
 Leaving Bertha at a little distance, I made my way 
 
THE DROWNING. 83 
 
 through the crowd, and there learnt, to my horror 
 and distress, that Owen Kelly lay drowning in the 
 deep pool near which the crowd had assembled. 
 
 " ' But, good Heavens ! * I cried ; * are you doing 
 nothing to get him out ? How long has he been in 
 the water ? ' 
 
 " ' Twenty minutes, may be, your Honour,' said a 
 young sailor, who seemed the most collected of the 
 group ; * but sure it's in the dead man's pool he is, 
 and sorra a person can be got alive out of that.' 
 
 " * Nonsense,' I exclaimed ; * you're no man your- 
 self if you allow him to lie there unaided. Can you 
 swim?' 
 
 " ' I can, your Honour.' 
 
 "* And dive?' 
 
 " * I can, your Honour ! ' 
 
 " * Then more shame for you to be standing there 
 idle. In with you at once, man, and ' 
 
 "But there is no need to dwell upon the arguments 
 by which the sailor was at last induced to do my 
 bidding. It is sufficient to say that his clothes were 
 flung off, and that he dived resolutely beneath the 
 water. 
 
 " Meanwhile, there stood (or rather staggered, for 
 he was frightfully intoxicated) a tall, stout, middle- 
 aged man beside the deep and silent pool. He 
 
 o 2 
 
" TTTT^rllrTXT/^ T.TT.T^ " 
 
 84 THE CKUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 looked down into its depths, and you might have 
 fancied that he saw through the watery space the 
 body of his son beneath, for he called to him inces- 
 santly, and with frightful execrations, to * come out 
 of that at wonst, and not stay there hoombooging 
 any longer.' It was frightful to hear the drunken 
 father showering curses on the dead son, and piteous 
 indeed to behold the wailing mother, with hidden 
 face, keening for her lost and only one ! 
 
 " I could gain but little information from those 
 around me. Owen had not gone there to bathe, 
 * surely, for no person would venture in the dead 
 man's hole, since a poor man drowned himsel' in it 
 in the bad times.' There was a whisper, hushed and 
 awe-stricken, that Owen, too, had perhaps committed 
 the deed for which (though who dares put a limit to 
 the Creator's mercy?) we fear that there is for sinful 
 men no hope of pardon. Voices had been heard 
 raised high in anger between the father and the son, 
 and it was possible — ^though, with the mother near, 
 they dared not say the word aloud — that Johnny, 
 in his sottish fury, had hurried into eternity the boy 
 whose ill-starred passion had made such ill blood 
 between the two. 
 
 "But whilst these surmises were in the hearts and 
 almost on the tongues of the wailing crowd, the 
 
OWEN KEt:LY's FATE. 85 
 
 sailor, who had twice dived unsuccessfully beneath 
 the ten feet of water, rose after a third attempt, 
 and shouted that he was there. * I couldn't rise 
 him,' he said, as coming to the bank he spluttered 
 forth the words. ' He hasn't the clothes on him, 
 and he's lying heavy at the bottom.' 
 
 " Again the wild cry of the women broke forth, 
 more shrilly than before, whilst the mother crept 
 closer to the bank, and sitting down there rocked 
 herself to and fro hopelessly. 
 
 " We sent to a little fishing harbour that was near 
 for ropes and grappling-hooks, and with these, 
 though with great difficulty and after considerable 
 delay, we brought the lifeless form at last to land. 
 He was quite dead : of that we entertained no 
 doubt, for he had lain beneath the water for an 
 hour; but still, to satisfy the mother and the 
 howling crowd, we strove to call back the life into 
 the black and swollen corpse. Very tenderly was 
 the mother's sorrow dealt with by those men, who 
 looked so rough and hardened ; and when, after our 
 exertions for her son's recovery were acknowledged, 
 even by her^ to be unavailing, I left her in her hovel 
 (which stood near the relentless river), she was 
 surrounded by uncouth vet warmly-sympathising 
 friends." 
 
it T~rTT,,,,T-^T« ^TT^T^ '» 
 
 86 THE CRUISE OF THE* " HUMMING BIRD 
 
 " And was the cause of his death never ascer- 
 tained?" asked Tremlett, when Ahck paused for a 
 moment in the recital of his story. 
 
 " Never. The coroner, who lived some twenty 
 miles off, received a message on that night, to inform 
 him of what had passed, but he took no notice of the 
 occurrence any more than did the police ; and on 
 the following afternoon, all that remained of poor 
 Owen Kelly was laid in the grave. He had a 
 * grate waking — plenty of whisky and fine singing, 
 surely' — but the * pipes ' were short; for Tony 
 Hogan, a * small little fellow,' went into town for them 
 on a wicked baste of a mule, and the crathur had 
 him in the lake, and the pipes were broke on him 
 enthirely.' The father was more than usually 
 inebriated on the occasion ; but he could * sing afther.' 
 Such a strange mixture of the ludicrous and the 
 merrymaking is there in most Irish scenes and 
 stories." 
 
 " And how far off was the burying-place — a long 
 way, I should imagine?" was myremai'k; "for I 
 have often been surprised by the rarity of cemeteries 
 in this country." 
 
 " They had about ten miles to carry him," 
 answered Fairholme, "and his coffin was followed 
 by a long train of friends, while his funeral hymn 
 
THE BURIAL-GROUND. 87 
 
 was the low wail of women and the sobs of the 
 childless mother. The burying-ground is the most 
 desolate spot you can imagine — a place haunted, as 
 it is believed, by the * gentlefolks,' or fairies, and 
 from which mysterious lights are seen to gleam. It 
 is crowded with graves, and the rotten and tumbling- 
 down wooden crosses, black with age and exposure 
 to the weather, rear their heads, closely packed to- 
 gether, above the long rank grass and weeds. The 
 graves are very shallow, and human bones lie in the 
 unwholesome herbage, uncovered and unnoticed." 
 
 " But you have yet to learn the most pitiful part 
 of the story," said Bertha, sorrowfully, " for only 
 two days after poor Owen's death, a letter came 
 from his uncle in America, containing fifteen pounds, 
 and a request that he would go out to him to New 
 York, and seek a better fortune there. Only two 
 days sooner, and all their misery might have been 
 spared ; for Biddy would have been his wife, and 
 they and the old mother would have been in another 
 country, and safe away from that horrid man." 
 
 " And Biddy — how did she come here, so far 
 away from her own people ? and how did she 
 manage to recover her cheerfulness so speedily?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " We found her a situation here, thinking it 
 
88 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 better, under the circumstances, than allowing her to 
 remain where her misfortune would be * cast-up,' as 
 they call it, to her. She was very unhappy for 
 awhile, and her eyes were always red and weak, but 
 hard work is almost a better remedy for affliction 
 than time itself; and having no leisure for lamenta- 
 tion, Biddy has recovered her spirits, and can dance 
 and laugh once more. They give her the * majority* 
 in a jig, I can tell you ; and I hope some day that 
 as good a boy as poor dead Owen will offer her his 
 hand for life, and take her away to a more prosper- 
 ous land." 
 
 There was silence after Edward's last words, 
 which Tremlett broke by saying — 
 
 " It seems to me that, under Providence, the cause 
 of all the evil was the rapacious priest, who drove 
 Owen Kelly to desperation, and very probably to 
 suicide : and these are the men that have influence 
 over these wretched people ! And this is the reh- 
 gion which they cling to so pertinaciously ! " 
 
 " I suspect," said Fairholme, in reply, " that the 
 instance I have quoted is anything but a common 
 one, for the influence of the priests is kept up as 
 much by kindness as by fear. They are wonderfully 
 attentive to the wants of the poor, both in sickness 
 and in health ; and never refuse to attend the call of 
 
INTOLERANCE. 89 
 
 the ailing — a call whicli is almost invariably made 
 prior to the request for medical assistance." 
 
 " But how they threaten them!" pursued Trem- 
 lett. "How they hold over them the dreaded 
 penalty of an unanointed death-bed, and of the un- 
 tellable horrors of purgatory, aye, even of hell-fire 
 for ever, should they venture within the walls of a 
 Protestant church, and above all, if they are induced 
 to listen to the sacred Word of God read or preached 
 to them by Protestant believers." 
 
 " I grant all this," said Edward ; " but at the 
 same time I must repeat what I have often said 
 before, namely, that the very existence of the priests 
 depends in a great measure on their influence (/oer 
 the people, on the superstitious fears of the pea- 
 santry, and on then- continuance in ignorance. We 
 have taken from them the revenues of their church, 
 and for their means of subsistence they have but the 
 shillings and half-crowns bestowed upon them yearly 
 or half-yearly, and at confessions, by the uneducated 
 and patient flocks who follow their shepherds with a 
 blind unquestioning obedience, which is in itself a 
 virtue. But this is not all, for we should also 
 remember in what spirit we come amongst them to 
 disturb the faith of their congregations, and turn 
 them from their obedience. Is there not, I ask you, 
 
90 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD.' 
 
 too often insult conveyed in the very countenances 
 of those who call themselves the messengers of 
 God's Word? — ^insult, pride, and angry challenge, 
 when (in meek imitation of Him who came in love 
 to turn sinners unto God) they would do well to 
 clothe themselves with humility as with a gar- 
 ment." 
 
 "A garment! " said Tremlett, pettishly, "by which 
 I suppose you would intend that the real object of 
 the missionary's purpose should be concealed. The 
 doctrine of expediency, in short, is the one which 
 you are advocating — the expediency of temporising 
 and keeping well with all ! There should be no 
 open profession of your faith, say you ; no bold and 
 steadfast standing by the Banner of your Salvation ; 
 but instead, you would give encouraging and de- 
 luding promises to all, knowing the while the tre- 
 mendously dangerous nature of the evils you are 
 tolerating, and despising yourself, I hope, internally, 
 for the weakness you are betraying." 
 
 Tremlett spoke with considerable warmth, and 
 with some disregard to the courtesy due to one so 
 invariably gentle and refined in manner as the 
 brother-in-law whose principles of action he had 
 thus so unceremoniously attacked. But the latter, 
 without any apparent notice of his slighting tone, 
 
tremlett's temper. 91 
 
 continued to state his reasons for the opinions he 
 had advanced. 
 
 " You mistake my meaning/' he said, " if you 
 suppose that I counsel even a momentary hesitation 
 as regards the open avowal of, and the strenuous 
 advocacy in this country of our own behef. But 
 because a work should be done boldly and unflinch- 
 ingly, does it, in your opinion, follow that the work- 
 man should be violent in his operations, over-hasty 
 in his proceedings, or the employer of tools coarse^ 
 and wholly unsuited to the kind of labour that has 
 been set before them to accomplish ?" 
 
 " And such, in your opinion," said Tremlett, " is 
 the case with the excellent men who are devoting 
 themselves heart and soul to the preaching of the 
 Gospel amongst these heathen idolaters? Truly if 
 this is your view of the matter, and this the report 
 you intend to spread abroad, your residence in this 
 country has been in more ways than one a mistake 
 and a misfortune; and you would do well to cut 
 short your lingering here for your own pleasure, 
 and proceed at once to the higher duty, to the 
 performance of which you have pledged yourself." 
 
 " My dear Oswald," said Fairholme, still gently, 
 although the effort to conceal his emotion was 
 visible in his flushed cheek and slightly trembling 
 
92 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 voice — " my dear Oswald, let us, if you please, avoid 
 all allusions to family affairs, and to differences in 
 opinion as regards their arrangement, for such dis- 
 cussions will not only be unproductive of benefit ta 
 ourselves, but they cannot fail to be annoying to the 
 friend who has gratified us by becoming for a season 
 as one of our family. I am aware that you must 
 feel strongly on the subject to which you have 
 alluded ; and, if for that reason alone, it had far 
 better — for the present at least — be abandoned." 
 
 "As you please," said Tremlett, rather more 
 amicably, for he was perhaps somewhat ashamed of 
 the temper he had betrayed ; and as Bertha (whose 
 anxious face during the discussion had not escaped 
 my notice) proposed shortly after that we should 
 put in execution the long-deferred project of a sail 
 in the "Humming Bird" to some more distant 
 islands, we with one accord gladly commenced our 
 preparations for departure. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 MACKEREL FISHING THE EAGLe's NEST BERTHA's 
 
 SORROW. 
 
 The wind was fair for our voyage, being at N. E., 
 and the breeze, though not strong, was steady 
 enough. 
 
 There were many small boats afloat on the waters 
 of the glorious bay, and the scene altogether was 
 lively and exciting. Immense flights of snow-white 
 gulls covered the surface of the sea in sheet-like 
 patches, sending forth a shrill concert of screams 
 that broke strangely on the silent air. Vast 
 numbers of these noisy birds were constantly, as it 
 seemed, settling on the water and diving after their 
 prey, for the mackerel were "in" after the herring 
 ^* fry," and every boat and net was out, whilst each 
 eager fisherman was anxiously watching for his share 
 of the booty which they trusted that the bounteous 
 sea would roll on towards them. 
 
 Every eye was turned upon the birds, those har- 
 
94 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 bingers of good things, and every ear intent on 
 listening for their cry. And when they settled — 
 and when the water, boiling up in wild confusion, 
 and with a noise (calm as was the sea) as though a 
 cataract were rushing down upon it, told them that 
 a mackerel shoal was near, then the boats' crews 
 shouted loud, and putting out their ponderous nets, 
 rowed as if for life, to surround the troubled water. 
 
 We were looking from the deck of the " Humming 
 Bird" at the scene I have been endeavouring to 
 describe, and Tremlett, whose good-humour was 
 entirely restored, had just finished quoting to Bertha 
 those quaint and curious lines so loved by poor 
 Thomas Hood, of — 
 
 " Up jumped the mackerel 
 With his striped hack. " 
 
 Says he, " Reef in the mainsa'l and haul up the 
 tack — 
 
 ** For it's windy weather, 
 It's stormy weather, 
 And when the wind blows pipe all hands together — 
 For upon my word, it's windy weather : " 
 
 when Con Navan, who seemed experienced in such 
 matters, proposed that, as one of the boats seemed 
 likely to have a good haul, we should row to shore 
 in the dingy ^ and see the result of the " cast." 
 The proposal met with unanimous approbation, 
 
MACKEREL FISHING. 95 
 
 and just as the fishing-boat reached the beach, and 
 commenced drawing in the net, we were alongside 
 of the rocks, and ready to disembark on their 
 slippery surface. 
 
 It was a scene of intense excitement, the hauling 
 in of that heavy net by these wild-looking and 
 vociferous men. They pulled with a will, for they 
 knew the prize was well worth their toil, and not a 
 man or boy relaxed his grasp upon the ropes for a 
 second. 
 
 "Troth, and it's a good weight," said one old 
 man, on whose weather-beaten face was written a 
 volume of exposure to the stormy winds of heaven, 
 and of scanty food as guerdon for his toil. " Pull 
 away, boys ! Ah, God help you, Martin, but it's a 
 poor hand at the rope ye are ! " 
 
 "Is it me?" cried Martin, hauling vigorously. 
 " It wouldn't be yoursel' would be a-head of me the 
 day, but for the cut I got — bad cess to it," and 
 Martin looked dovm pityingly on a bandage which 
 encased one of his bony fingers. 
 
 " Now for it, boys ! Here they are — lashings of 
 them ! Bedad, but it's a great sight ! " cried Con, 
 who had volunteered his services on the occasion, 
 and who was now dancing about in exuberant glee 
 amongst the " striped backs" of the finny multitude. 
 
96 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 In they came, leaping, panting, and struggling 
 for their liberty in the sure meshes of the net. 
 There were thousands of them — four thousand, as 
 the hoys had rightly surmised; nor had I much 
 difficulty in giving credence to the correctness of 
 their estimate, as the tossing things lay glistening 
 in their many-shaded coats upon the yellow sea- 
 weed. ♦ 
 
 It was an enlivening sight, that of the men's 
 excited faces as they gathered up the net in readi- 
 ness for another venture. To Edward they were 
 most of them personally known, and for many he 
 found a pleasant word. 
 
 " Why, Peter," he said to a remarkably plain- 
 visaged individual, who to judge from his dress was 
 greatly addicted to a sitting posture ; " why, Peter, 
 you're getting too rich. You won't know what to 
 do with all your money. Why, you must have fifty 
 pounds in the thatch^ if you've a penny." 
 
 " Your Honour's joking," said Peter, rather in- 
 dignantly. " It isn't the likes of me, with the long 
 wake family, as would be rich the day. It's Httle 
 enuff mysel' has in the fist, surely." 
 
 " But have you ten pounds in the house now, 
 Peter?" 
 
 ** I have not ; and I wouldn't be telling a lie : but 
 
PETERS SAVINGS. ^f 
 
 I'm like to have that same before I part with your 
 Honour." 
 
 " Ah, musha, thin, Pether. Aisy now," cried a 
 laughing young fellow from the boat ; " aisy now, 
 and don't be hoombugging. It's over a power of 
 gould he has, yer Honour. He could roul himself 
 in it. But it's a poor thing he hasn't a daughter to 
 portion afther." 
 
 And so, chaffing one another with good-humoured 
 banter, they rowed away. 
 
 "Has that poor wretch really any money?" I 
 asked, as we were returning to the yacht. " I think 
 he can hardly be as poor as he looks, for you could 
 scarcely have joked him on so sore a subject as his 
 own destitution." 
 
 " He has many a good pound laid up for an evil 
 day," answered Fairholme ; *' as every poor man 
 should have. He spends no money (as you may 
 perceive) on his scant personal adornment, except 
 on Sundays, when Peter's turn-out in a good frieze 
 suit is as respectable as any man's; but there is 
 another cause for his unusual prosperity, and for the 
 little chance there is that he and his will become a 
 burthen on the parish to which they belong." 
 
 "And that cause is ? Pray tell me," said I, 
 
 seeing that he hesitated ; " for I am indeed curious 
 
98 THE CEUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 to account for such a phenomenon as Peter's case 
 presents." 
 
 " The reason may be given in a few words," 
 replied Edward, seriously. "The man is a paid 
 labourer, and not a tenant But we will not con- 
 tinue this subject now, for it is not fair to Bertha, 
 who dreads discussions about grievances, and who 
 will expect you to rave with her about all the 
 lovely sights of earth, and sky, and water that we 
 have come out on the ocean to behold." 
 
 The " Humming Bird," which had been lying-to 
 during our short absence in the boat, was soon under 
 way again, and with all her canvas set (for the wind 
 was light), we sailed with the receding tide towards 
 the open sea. Our progress was not rapid, but we 
 did not wish it hastened, for every mile as we 
 passed along its distance presented fresh beauties to 
 our sight. Now, it was a grey and frowning mass 
 of stones, perched at the summit of a steep accli- 
 vity, and imitating well one of the ruined castles, 
 ivy-clad and time-honoured, that travellers go so 
 far to see "upon the banks of Rhine." And 
 farther away, a thatched cottage nestled among the 
 rocks, with an acre or two of bright green grass 
 surrounding it, and a look of prosperity surrounding 
 the . obscure abode, which said, as plainly as in 
 
THE EAGLE S NEST. 99 
 
 Edward's words, that the inhabitant thereof was not 
 a tenant 
 
 The faithful Job CoUett, our English sailor, and 
 " captain " of the craft, was at "the helm, and Navan 
 singing as usual at the forecastle, while a native 
 *' mariner " of the place who had been engaged 
 as additional "hand" explained, and doubtless 
 magnified, the wonders of the locality as we slowly 
 continued on our way. 
 
 " So that is where the eagles* nest was taken," 
 said I, after we had sufficiently admired the vigorous 
 flight of two grand birds (the sovereign and his 
 larger consort) as they wheeled above us in their 
 sun-defying flight. " What a fearful place to reach : 
 and how Was the deed effected ? " 
 
 I spoke to Fairholme, to whom the man had 
 before appealed as witness to the truth of his asser- 
 tions; and Edward, thus inquired of, related the 
 adventure as it occurred. 
 
 "It seems," he said, "at first sight to be in every 
 sense of the word a barbarous deed to shoot those 
 splendid animals, which are now becoming rare 
 among the mountains ; and from those who do not 
 suffer by their depredations, there is always a strong 
 cry raised against those who lift a treasonable hand 
 against the monarch of the air. But oppression 
 
 u 2 
 
a TTTT,T,rTXT^ T^XT^T^ »' 
 
 100 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 cannot be always patiently endured, and a despotic 
 exercise of power has in all ages been visited by a 
 proper and well-merited retribution. Bertha, who, 
 as you may have perceived, is the most tender- 
 hearted of women, was long before she would give 
 her consent to a popular movement against the 
 destructive autocrat of the upper regions ; nor was 
 it till I had proved to her how many innocent and 
 defenceless animals fall victims to his rapacity, that 
 she would allow me to join in a conspiracy against 
 him." 
 
 " What nonsense he talks," cried Bertha merrily, 
 as she laid her hand upon her husband's arm. 
 *' Edward, how dare you make me out such a sim- 
 pleton ? " 
 
 " I only repeat facts," rejoined Fairholme, " and 
 as long as I keep to them there must be no inter- 
 ruption to my story ; but, however singular it may 
 appear that a woman should lean to the side of 
 mercy, I maintain that till this foolish wife of mine 
 saw with her own eyes an eagle swoop down upon, 
 and seize within his talons, the newly-born offspring 
 of a then desolate and broken-hearted sheep, she 
 persisted in believing the monster bird to be an 
 innocent and much-wronged individual. Well, my 
 merciful Bertha's consent being at last obtained, I, 
 
THE ROCKY HOLLOW. lOl 
 
 taking my rifle in my hand, proceeded (with the 
 permission of the proprietor of the mountain) to 
 take my measures for the extirpation of the tyrant. 
 Half a dozen stout ^ boys ' offered to assist in the 
 work, and one, the most active of them all, and a 
 good cragsman, was engaged as the actual per- 
 petrator of the deed which we hoped would destroy 
 -the dynasty of the reigning despot. 
 
 " The hollow in the rock which you see before 
 you is a good twelve hundred feet above the level 
 of the sea (that's right, Stephen, let her lie-to a 
 minute while you mark the place ; and now, Mark, 
 take your glass, and look at it). You see how sheer 
 and perpendicular is the fall, and perhaps you can 
 also perceive that a few feet beneath the nest is a 
 small grassy slope of a few inches only apparently 
 in width." /■ 
 
 " I see it," was my rejoinder, " and also a slightly 
 projecting rock above the nest hollow. The rock 
 seems to be the termination of a sort of plat- 
 form." 
 
 " Exactly," pursued Edward, " and now you 
 must try to imagine yourself on that platform, to 
 which you have descended over the summit of the 
 mountain, and from the other side, where the ascent 
 is comparatively easy. The air on the morning we 
 
102 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD.' 
 
 had chosen for our expedition was beautifully clear, 
 and the view over land and distant ocean wonder- 
 fully distinct. Save our own whispered voices 
 there was no sound excepting the unresting one of 
 the full mountain rill, and the faint bleating of the 
 sheep as they cropped the sweet but scanty 
 herbage. 
 
 " We neared the edge of the projecting rock cau- 
 tiously, and looking down, decided where best to 
 lower (with the stout ropes we had brought) the 
 * boy * who was to take the nest. There was a 
 little hesitation in his manner as he marked the 
 fearful danger of the spot (and I, too, was beginning 
 to feel again the strength of the two-inch rope by 
 which he was to be lowered), when there was a cry 
 from one of the men, and looking down in the 
 direction to which j||e pointed, we saw at once the 
 cause of his sudden exclamation, for a dog — a fine 
 honest Colly who had been our companion up the 
 mountain, and whose sagacity and prompt obedience 
 had often before excited my admiration and respect 
 — was no longer of our party ; his days of faithful 
 service were over, and he now lay, a lifeless body, 
 hundreds of yards below us. 
 
 " His master had seen him (in headlong chase after 
 a startled hare) approach the grass-covered edge of 
 
THE shephekd's dog! 103 
 
 the precipice. He called him, but it was too late. 
 The impetus of his course could not be checked, 
 and the shepherd's faithful friend lay dead beneath 
 our feet ! 
 
 " The loss of the animal had a singular effect in 
 rousing the courage of the party, more especially 
 that of the stalwart Tim, who now displayed the 
 most marked readiness to descend and perform the 
 task required of him. 
 
 " * Bedad,' said one of the men, ' but that's the 
 great look enthirely.* 
 
 " * Troth, an' it is,' cried another. * But for the 
 dog, it's the jintlefolks"' would have had the life of 
 a good boy the day.* 
 
 " * Now, thin,' shouted Tim, suddenly full ot 
 bluster and bravery; *now, thin, boys, for the 
 tying,' and, evidently satisfied of the wrath of the 
 fairies at our intrusion being appeased by the sacri- 
 fice of the unfortunate Colly, all hands set to work 
 to prepare the adventurous Tim for his descent. 
 
 " He was soon bound, and as speedily, but very 
 carefully, lowered to the nest. There was silence for 
 a minute or two, and.then a shout firom below of — 
 
 " * Ah, musha, now, but it's a grate sight. Sorra 
 the likes of it ever you see.' 
 
 * Fairies. 
 
(( ^,.,,,,^„« ^,^^ '» 
 
 104 THE CEUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD 
 
 "* How many birds in the nest, Tim ?' I shouted. 
 
 " ' Two, yer Honour, and strong bastes, too, by the 
 blessing of God.' 
 
 *'A sudden fancy to see the interior economy of an 
 eagle's domicile seized me on this announcement; 
 and calling to Tim, we prepared him for being at 
 once drawn up again as a preliminary movement to 
 my taking his place in the ropes as a visitor to the 
 royal nursery. 
 
 " * Sure, yer Honour '11 be desthroyed,' said 
 Tim, when he was landed from the air. 'It's a 
 coorse place to go down itsel', and ' 
 
 " But I cut short his remonstrances, feeling con- 
 vinced that, in order to enhance his own merit in 
 having dared the danger, he would increase it ten- 
 fold at least in his description. 
 
 " After all, it was no very adventurous undertaking, 
 for the ropes were strong, and had borne in the 
 person of Tim a far heavier weight than mine ; but 
 still the flattering and admiring faces of the ' boys ' 
 (for an Irishman can talk blarney even with his 
 eyes) made me feel rather like a hero as the cord 
 was bound about me. In a minute I was swinging 
 in empty space, and confessing to myself that the 
 situation, as well as being a novel one, was not 
 altogether agreeable in the sensations it produced. 
 
THE EAGLE S NEST. 105 
 
 "My rifle was in my hand, loaded and ready to be 
 used in case one of the parent birds should venture 
 near us; but I must acknowledge that when my 
 feet touched terra firma^ and I saw the hen eagle 
 hovering about fifty yards from the nest, I was at 
 first too much excited by my ariel trajet to be able 
 to take aim at her. 
 
 "The ground near the nest was covered with the 
 whole and half-eaten remains of the animals which 
 had been provided for the nutriment of the brood. 
 It was indeed an admirably filled larder, and the 
 variety of food collected must have been highly 
 gratifying to the appetites of the rapacious brood. 
 There were remains of hares innumerable, as they 
 seemed to me, and of grouse, too, in profusion, 
 whilst a dozen lambs at least had contributed their 
 quota to the well-supplied commissariat. 
 
 " After casting a hasty glance around me, I looked 
 into the nest, which was a large, untidy, and most 
 unregal mass of confusion. It was formed in the 
 cleft of a rock, from the entrance to which there 
 issued a noisy and anything but harmonious duet 
 of mingled croaks and cries. The calls of their 
 young were doubtless heard by the parent birds, who 
 were hovering near; and as I thought upon the 
 mother's mental sufferings, I cannot deny that my 
 
106 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 conscience smote me for a moment at the recollection 
 of the deed I meditated. But the sight of the muti- 
 lated remains about me steeled my heart, and I 
 raised my rifle remorselessly to my shoulder. 
 
 " Suddenly (for their turns in the air are very rapid) 
 the bu'd at which I aimed whirled round beneath me, 
 and then was in a moment hidden from my view. 
 There was no time for thought of danger ; moreover, 
 I was now heated with pursuit, and eager for success. 
 My prey, I knew, was near me, though beyond, or 
 rather beneath my sight, for the jutting rock below 
 the platform prevented my seeing what was passing 
 there. To command the view from which that 
 obstacle debarred me, was now of course my object, 
 and therefore, holding my rifle in readiness to fire, 
 I rashly sprang from where I stood to the httle 
 grassy ledge that you have noticed. It stands at a 
 giddy height — does it not ? Keep your eyes upon 
 it, and then, when I have told you of the frightful 
 peril from which I was mercifully preserved, you 
 will own, I think, that it is well for me to be 
 thankful. 
 
 " On springing from the level spot near the nest 
 (and I must first say that the men no longer held the 
 cord within their grasp) I had neither reckoned on 
 the slippery nature of the short grass on the decline 
 
A NARROW ESCAPE. 107 
 
 of the little ledge, nor on the impetus of my own 
 spring forward. The whole affair was the work of 
 a moment, but when my feet touched the ground it 
 was as though they slid on ice ! Scarcely half a 
 yard in width was the sloping spot of verdure on 
 which I had alighted, whilst beneath me was a 
 fearful fall of twice five hundred feet ! " 
 
 " What a horrible situation ! " said I, fully reaU- 
 sing it, as I scanned the almost perpendicular 
 mountain side. "But what could you do? And 
 how did you escape ? " 
 
 "By the instinct of self-preservation, which 
 caused me to dig my heels into the grass, which was 
 happily soft ; but I could not have stood it long, for 
 my head is contemptibly weak, and the aspect of 
 that awful void which would be looked at appalled 
 me, while it made my senses reel. Bertha, why do 
 you look so pale ? I am here, thank God, to tell the 
 story, for the men gathered up the cord that (seeing 
 me, as they thought, in safety) they had loosened, 
 and when I knew they had me safely in their hands 
 (poor c^eifz/ mortal that I am), I took heart of grace, 
 and fired off my rifle at the still hovering bird." 
 
 " And shot him too, I hope ? " asked I. " After all 
 your trouble you deserved to be rewarded." 
 
 " Yes," answered Ned regretfully, "I did not miss 
 
108 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 my aim, but she was only wounded — the bold, beau- 
 tiful creature, that fairly dared me for her children's 
 sake. Her leg was broken ; and often since, perched 
 low upon the rocks, we have seen the halting eagle, 
 with loosely-hanging claw, and Bertha and I 
 have sorrowed for her." 
 
 " And what became of the young birds ? " asked 
 Tremlett, who had Hstened with great apparent 
 interest to Edward's story. 
 
 " One of them was injured in the taking of it from 
 the nest, but the other survived to be, by its ferocity, 
 the torment of Tim's existence. What he suffered 
 of mental torture during the process of tending on it 
 would be hard to describe, and we were often amused 
 by watching his attempts to propitiate its favour by 
 using endearing epithets, such as ' Pretty Poll,' 
 
 * Polly agra,' &c. He always called the eagle 
 
 * Poll,' to our infinite entertainment. It grew to 
 be a magnificent bird, and is now an inhabitant of 
 
 the Zoological Gardens at . But by the powers, 
 
 as Mike would say, how late it is ! Why, Collett 
 man, what has become of the wind, and how far do 
 you expect to take us to-night ? " 
 
 The helmsman smiled gi'imly, and looked vaguely 
 at the sky, while Mike (the odd man) prognosticated 
 that as the wind had gone down with " the tide of 
 
AN ATLANTIC SUNSET. 109 
 
 ebb," there was little likelihooi of its rising again 
 for some time to come. 
 
 On this announcement we held council together, 
 and agreed that if, after an hour's wandering on the 
 sea-beach (the which we could easily reach in the 
 dingy) ^ there were no signs of a breeze, we would 
 remain at anchor for the night, and pursue our 
 voyage, if possible, on the morrow. 
 
 The sun was setting when our boat landed us on 
 the fine smooth sand against which the waves rippled 
 softly. For a while we wandered there, and then, 
 climbing to the summit of an adjacent rock, we 
 looked around us. A thousand hues were gleaming 
 from the west, and were reflected on the mountain 
 tops in softened crimson, and in palest gold. The 
 sea was without a wave, and the solitude profound 
 indeed ! 
 
 Tremlett had strayed to a distance with Fairholme, 
 and Bertha was left standing by my side. 
 
 " You love the west ? " I said to her, " or you 
 would scarcely have spent so long a season on these 
 silent shores." 
 
 " I dim. forced to love it," she replied ; and there 
 was a curious toning of the words, whilst I, who 
 gazed at her inquiringly, saw that her eyes were 
 fall of tears. 
 
110- THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 " There is a sorrowful meaning in your words," I 
 said, at length, " and it is hard to guess why you are 
 obliged to love this wild and watery land." 
 
 "Do not ask me," was Bertha's low-voiced 
 answer. " Edward will tell you why — Edward will 
 trust you soon. But, oh, how I wish that Oswald 
 would not irritate and grieve him ! He is so gentle 
 — so enduring. And yet my brother is a good man 
 too ; but it is hard to understand the strange discre- 
 pancies in his character. Look at them yonder. 
 How earnestly they are talking ! and every word is 
 paining Edward — I know it is, as surely as if my ears 
 could hear them ! God help us ! " she added, as if 
 speaking to herself; and I, feeling that any remarks 
 of mine would be misplaced, followed her in silence 
 down the rock and to the beach. 
 
CHAPTER VT. 
 
 PATSEy's non-confession THE MISGUIDED MINISTER 
 
 ZEAL WITHOUT DISCRETION. 
 
 There was much in Bertha's looks and manner 
 which, coupled as was their singularity with my own 
 previous observations on Tremlett's bearing towards 
 his brother-in-law, gave me food for anxious thought. 
 It was clear to me that, in a certain fashion, my old 
 friend stood in fear of the man who had been in early 
 manhood his intimate companion, and who was how 
 bound to him by close ties of relationship : and yet, 
 although it was evident that he shrank almost 
 nervously from Tremlett's companionship, aye, even 
 from his voice, as though the sound of it were painful 
 to him, it did not strike me that the sentiment of 
 repulsion arose from any consciousness on Edward's 
 part of personal error, or that on his breast there 
 lay the burthen of a guilty secret. 
 
 That there existed a mystery — and that a great 
 and .serious one — I did not entertain a doubt ; whilst 
 
112 THE CRUISE OF THE 'HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 I felt equally convinced that wrong-doing, if wrong 
 there had been, could not be laid to the charge of 
 my true and noble-hearted friend. 
 
 With this conviction on my mind, and feeling that 
 the presence of Tremlett had always a deadening 
 effect on our social enjoyment, I was by no means 
 sorry when, on our return to the yacht, he confessed 
 himself fatigued, and, stretching his long limbs on 
 the cabin sofa, left us the undisturbed enjoyment of 
 the deck. 
 
 It was late, and Bertha had already retired to 
 rest, when Edward and I, leaning over the low 
 bulwark, marked the pale gold warning of the 
 coming moon, as her faint light showed itself above 
 the dusky mountains. We watched her, till the fair 
 bright orb — the gracious " Harvest Moon " — threw 
 over all the earth her silvery mantle; and till, 
 sailing onwards through the cloudless ether, her 
 reflection sparkled near us in the rippling water of 
 the bay. The voice of man would have seemed to 
 jar against the stillness of the scene ; and it was not 
 till a distant sound of coming wind was heard, that 
 Edward in a low voice addressed me thus : 
 
 " Is it not a cause for wonder," he said, " the 
 extent to which the resolves we have made but a 
 few hours previously may be broken down by a 
 
SUNSHINE IN A SHADY PLACE. 113 
 
 few chance words, or by the mere presence or 
 absence of a human being, who would scarcely seem 
 capable of influencing either our feelings or our 
 actions ? '^ 
 
 " It is an affair of association of ideas frequently, 
 I imagine," was my commenced rejoinder, but Fair- 
 holme interrupted me, by continuing, what I may 
 almost call, his soliloquy^ so little at the moment did 
 he appear either to feel or appreciate my presence. 
 
 " And then how changed is often the very colour- 
 ing of our feelings, from a dark, cold, tomb-like hue 
 to bright and glowing tints ; even as we have seen 
 the gloomy mountain summits catch upon their 
 rugged faces the rosy reflection of the setting sun, 
 which tinges them with the momentary and delusive 
 pamting of the hour ! " 
 
 " You are thinking of Tremlett," I said, incau- 
 tiously, and in allusion to his first remark, " and of 
 the effect which his coming has produced upon us 
 all?" 
 
 ^'Hardly that," he answered, rousing himself, 
 "for my thoughts were at that moment fixed on 
 Bertha, and on the power she happily possesses of 
 luring me on to a more cheering view of existence, 
 and its daily duties. The day may come, Hutton, 
 when you w^U better understand all that my wife 
 
114 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 has been to me — how that she has been as the 
 very conductor to the Hghtning, which has darted 
 
 through the gathered clouds, and But I will 
 
 not dwell upon the gloomy side of life, nor weary 
 you with my painful retrospections. Let us speak 
 again on the subject with which we were occupied 
 when Tremlett broke in so inopportunely on our 
 conversation. It is one with which the history of 
 the past two years of my life is strangely connected 
 and amalgamated, as you will probably at no very 
 distant period be able to verify." 
 
 I had hoped, from the turn which Fairholme's 
 ideas had apparently taken, that some clue to the 
 mystery by which he was surrounded would be held 
 out to me, but I was doomed to disappointment, 
 and could only murmur a few words expressive of 
 my deep interest in all that concerned either himself 
 or those dear to him. 
 
 " I cannot argue calmly with Tremlett," was his 
 next remark, "on such topics as those we were 
 discussing — he is so thoroughly prejudiced, and so 
 persistent in his determination to see only one side 
 of an all-important subject. I, too, as I am well and 
 painfully aware, have many strong prepossessions to 
 make war against, and have to feel my way cau- 
 tiously, and step by step, in the difficult pathwav I 
 
CHURCH MISSIONS. 115 
 
 have entered on. You have wondered often, I dare 
 say, my dear old Mark," he continued, laying his 
 hand affectionately on my shoulder, *' at the length of 
 time which we had already spent, before your arrival, 
 in this uninviting country ; but time will clear up 
 all that has seemed mysterious in my conduct, and 
 will prove to you that, on more grounds than one, 
 that which I consider as a sacred duty has led me to 
 the course I have pursued." 
 
 "I do not doubt it," I rejoined, returning his 
 cordial grasp ; " but still I am at a loss to compre- 
 hend in what manner the success, or otherwise, of 
 the Church Missions can affect either you or your 
 plans in life." 
 
 "Time will show," said he, with a mournful 
 smile ; " but this much I will say, that feeling and 
 deploring both my ignorance and my prejudices, I 
 have endeavoured to enlighten the one, and remove 
 the other by a patient investigation of the truth. 
 You have heard," he continued, after a pause, 
 "some of the opinions and sentiments which, in 
 common with many earnest and excellently inten- 
 tioned Christian men, Oswald Tremlett holds con- 
 cerning the conversions — as they are called — of the 
 Papistical peasantry in this country ? " 
 
 "Yes," I replied ; "nor have I failed to remark 
 
 r 2 
 
116 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 that a wholesale and entire condemnation of every-- 
 thing contained in the doctrines of the Church of 
 Eome forms the basis of these injudiciously made 
 attempts at proselytising." 
 
 *' True, and the evils of such a proceeding are, in 
 my opinion, incalculable ; for it is impossible wholly 
 to run down — if I may be allowed the expression — 
 the teaching of the priests, without at the same 
 time falsifying some of the truths which are incul- 
 cated by our religion as of the most vital importance 
 to salvation: and the result of such a proceeding 
 cannot fail to be an indescribable and dangerous 
 state of confusion in the minds of the ignorant and 
 the unreasoning." 
 
 " I can quite understand that such must be the 
 case," was my rejoinder ; "for the good works, to 
 the doing of which we are so frequently enjoined in 
 the Bible, are but too frequently cited by the mis- 
 sionaries as so many snares and occasions of falling ; 
 while the people, in their ignorance, are led to con- 
 sider that prayer (inasmuch as it is greatly insisted 
 on by the Romish Church) is considered by ours as 
 a hindrance of salvation." 
 
 "A consequence," continued Edward, "among 
 others innumerable, of the illogical, inferior, and ill- 
 instructed men who represent the Protestant reli- 
 
WELL PAID IDLERS. 117 
 
 gion In Ireland, both as missionaries and as belonging 
 to the Established Church. I have had some oppor- 
 tunities of judging, and I can speak positively to the 
 fact that so it is." 
 
 " But how," I asked, " can we account for this 
 being the case, at least as regards the latter class, 
 for they are magnificently paid, with very little to 
 do, and " 
 
 " Little indeed ! Often receiving an income of 
 several hundreds for the cure of scarcely more than 
 a nominal congregation, while the poor missionary 
 clergymen (in their churches, built not unfrequently 
 by contributions from Papist-dreading old ladies at 
 home, and for the convenience of some Protestant 
 landowner in their neighbourhood) hold forth to 
 the few doubtful converts they have succeeded in 
 making, and whose numbers are, I am sorry to say, 
 terribly exaggerated in the reports which appear 
 in this country, and which are so greedily swallowed 
 by the Anti-Papistical amongst us." 
 
 " And they carry about their little congregations 
 with them to considerable distances," I said, ^' at 
 least I have heard so, in order to swell the apparent 
 numbers of their proselytes ; while, from what you 
 have said, I firmly believe that the class of hot- 
 headed, under-bred, converting clergymen, who 
 
118 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 endeavour vainly to put an end to tlie religion of 
 the masses, have not prospered in their work to 
 the extent which the published reports would lead 
 us to beheve." 
 
 " They have begun at the wrong end," said Fair- 
 holme, "and overlooked the fact that it is to the 
 enlightenment of the children's minds they must 
 look for success. That tree," he added, pointing 
 to a bent and aged holly which grew near the shore, 
 "bids defiance to the tempest, and remains unchanged 
 by the winds that blow upon it; but the seedling 
 beneath its shade can be bent according to the will 
 of those who tend it, and is swayed by the faintest 
 murmur of the pure breath of heaven ! " 
 
 " But," I remarked, " the Church Mission has its 
 schools, and schools, too, that figure largely in the 
 reports I have alluded to, in Exeter Hall, as well as 
 in the meetings of the West Connaught Society. 
 Are these mere myths then, and are we to dis- 
 believe every statement regarding the progress of 
 the missionaries' labours? " 
 
 "Your question," replied Fairholme, "will, I 
 think, be best answered by detailing to you the fate 
 of a Protestant school, in the success of which I 
 was at one time deeply interested. The population, 
 the children of which were in the habit of attending 
 
A MISSION SCHOOL. 119 
 
 it, were entirely composed of Catholics, but as the 
 school-house was situated in a rather un-get-at- 
 able region, and was, from local circumstances, less 
 than ordinarily exposed to priestly influence, there is 
 every probability, that had those entrusted with 
 the management of the school acted with even the 
 smallest amount of moderation and judgment, the 
 education of the little Papists would have gone on 
 and prospered to this day.'' 
 
 " And what caused the breaking up of the es- 
 tablishment ? " I demanded, "for I conclude that it 
 exists no longer." 
 
 " It does," replied Fairholme, " but only in name; 
 for it is in the last stage of decay and decrepitude. 
 In fact, it is only kept up at all, in order that the 
 Mission reports may record a school in the district ; 
 and two Protestant children are taken to it occa- 
 sionally, that some colour may be given to the 
 report. But now for my story, and for the rise and 
 fall of the undertaking from which I confess to 
 having at one period hoped for such good results. 
 
 *' Not many months ago, and before you were even 
 cognisant of our residence in the country. Bertha 
 and I were sojourning in a pretty cottage which I 
 had hired in the neighbourhood of which I speak ; 
 our servants, few in number, were Roman CathoHcs, 
 
" TTTT^rmrrxT/N t^xt^t^ " 
 
 120 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 and one, the man who looked after our horses 
 and the * outside car,' was a good, simple fellow, 
 with an extensive family and extremely limited 
 means. 
 
 " A short time before we left the cottage, it was 
 certified to the people that a Confession would be 
 held on a particular day, at the house of one of the 
 peasants. A station^ as it is called, is a great day 
 for the priests, for the host half ruins himself to do 
 him (or rather them^ for they always go in pairs) 
 due honour, while fat is the goose and plentiful the 
 whisky that is indulged in at those festive scenes. 
 On the occasion in question the * clergy,' as they 
 are called by the peasantry, after remaining some 
 four hours at their apostolic duties, returned home, 
 a distance of about fourteen miles, passing as they 
 did so by our cottage. 
 
 *' * There go two as courageous men as I can 
 imagine,' was my remark to Bertha, as they trotted 
 gaily forward on their mountain ponies. * Courageous, 
 indeed, for by depriving them of the right of indi- 
 vidual judgment, they take upon themselves the 
 awful responsibility of the eternal life or death of 
 thousands, perhaps, of ignorant human beings ! ' 
 
 " They were soon out of sight, those self-satisfied 
 keepers of human consciences, and then, seeing that 
 
patsey's repkoof. 121 
 
 Patsey, the simple serving man, wlio stood near, 
 was also gazing after them anxiously, I addressed 
 him thus : 
 
 " ' Patsey — how comes it that you are so soon 
 back from confession ? Why, you should have taken 
 a long holiday to-day, man, if ever you did/ 
 
 " * Ah, thin, yer Honour, it is'nt a holiday Fd be 
 afther having at all/ 
 
 "* And why not?' 
 
 " * Shure, his Kiv'rence would'nt hear me confes- 
 sion afther,' and Patsey sighed heavily. 
 
 " * Well, that was hard, and you going all that 
 way to see him. But, Patsey, you kept your shil- 
 ling — you've got that to the good at least?' 
 
 " * Troth an' I have not, yer Honour — for Father 
 Maguire took it off me — he did.' 
 
 " * That was too bad : but what reason did he give 
 for not hearing you ? Surely it is not usual to take 
 the fee^ and then refuse the promised advice. 
 Didn't Father Maguire explain the motives for his 
 conduct ? ' 
 
 " * He did, yer Honour. It was along of the 
 childre, and bekase I wouldn't be afther saying they 
 should keep away from the school. His Riv'rence 
 w^on't come, he says, when the likes of us are sick, 
 if we do be sending the childre to the Mission 
 
122 THE CEUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 school. Ah, musha ! but it's a poor thing not to 
 have the schooling.' And again poor Patsey gave 
 vent to his feelings in a groan-like sigh. 
 
 " 'And have the priests warned all the parents not 
 to send their children to the school ? ' 
 
 " ' They have, yer Honour — and sorra a one in the 
 village will go agin them, barrin' mysel', and bekase 
 I didn't think it ud be plazing to yer own 
 Honour.' 
 
 " ' You will do what your conscience tells you is 
 right, Patsey,' said I, ' without asking me any- 
 thing about the matter. I have already told you 
 how wrong I consider it of the priests to prevent 
 your reading the Word of God, and judging for 
 yourselves who is right in this matter. Why, man ! ' 
 I continued, having recourse to an interrogation 
 which I had more than once found wonderfully 
 efficacious in disturbing their blind allegiance to 
 their priestly rulers — ' Why, man, do you suppose 
 they keep the Bible from the ricM Not a bit of it. 
 They are allowed to read it, and the priests have no 
 right to keep such a privilege from you, only because 
 you are poor, and because your knowledge would 
 be their exposure. Don't fancy,' I went on to say, 
 * that I am altogether against your religion ; there 
 are some things most excellent and admirable in it, 
 
FARMER LYNCH. 123 
 
 for you are told to pray to God continually, and 
 your faith also teaches you how great and incessant 
 is the duty to help the poor amongst you that are 
 in need. But there is one fearful fault committed 
 by your priests, — for which may God in His mercy 
 pardon them, — and that fault is, the withholding of 
 the words of Scripture from the poor.' 
 
 " Patsey listened attentively to my words, and it 
 may be that for a moment he was startled by their 
 import, whilst I, curious to know how far Father 
 Maguire had worked upon the fears of the people, 
 ordered the horses for Bertha and I to take our ride 
 towards the village. 
 
 "We had not proceeded far when we were met by 
 a very intelligent man, the occupant of a small farm, 
 and who, though a Catholic, was without prejudice 
 against the Reformed Religion. 
 
 " I immediately stopped my horse and addressed 
 him — 
 
 " ' So, there has been a change, I hear, Mr. Lynch,' 
 I said. * I fancied the priests were willing that the 
 children should go to the Protestant school, and now 
 I hear that they have forbidden the parents to send 
 them there ? ' 
 
 " ' They have, and it's a pity ; but it's just them- 
 selves as is to blame for it. Look here, sir,' he 
 
124 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 continued, showing me a printed paper, in the form 
 of a tract, that had evidently been trampled in the 
 mud ; * see this. It's a shame to be throwing such 
 things in the road before the priests. It's cowardly 
 and insulting.' 
 
 *' I took the paper from his hands, and ran my eye 
 over its contents, which were neither more nor less 
 than a violent attack on the religion of the priests 
 and people ; the whole written in the worst style 
 of what may well be called * controversial slang.' 
 
 " * Bad, indeed,' I said, ' and who are the per- 
 petrators of this act? for they are of course 
 known or guessed at.' 
 
 " ' Who should they be, sir,' answered Lynch, 
 *but those ignorant, set-up scripture-readers and 
 schoolmasters? — fellows who had nothing but rags 
 to their backs awhile ago, and that now have dress- 
 coats and silk umbrellas, if you please ; and that 
 turn the could shoulder to their frinds as hasn't got 
 up in the world like theirsels ! "No slavery boots 
 for me," as I heard one of them say ; and all along 
 of the shoemaker having put the nails into them ! 
 It's for the fine clothes they joomp most times. 
 Why, sir, there was a young girl as joomped back- 
 wards and forwards as many as a dozen times, jist as 
 whin she wanted to be dressed out in a new go^vn 
 
FATHER MAGUIRE S TEACHER. 125 
 
 and bonnet/ And, laughing heartily at this facetious 
 view of the matter, Mr. Lynch went on his way. 
 
 " There was for many weeks a sanguine anticipa- 
 tion that the people, relieved from the actual pre- 
 sence of the priests, would disobey the orders of their 
 spiritual directors, and send their children ouQe 
 more to receive instruction at the hands of the pro- 
 moted peasant boy, whose hot-headed desire to please 
 those who had appointed him as instructor had 
 caused so much evil to the village. But weeks passed 
 away, and then, to the dismay of the Protestant 
 enthusiasts, a teacher sent by Father Maguire made 
 his appearance on the scene. His salary was paid 
 by those who despatched him on his mission, but 
 his board and lodging were gladly provided by the 
 parents whose children he had come to teach. You 
 may imagine that this was considered to be a ter- 
 rible state of things, and that a movement was at 
 once made to dislodge the enemy. 
 
 " * Sure,* said the Mission minister (he was a 
 violent man — one who had several times been in hot 
 water for unnecessary and dangerous meddling)^ 
 * sure,' he said one day to the powerful and also 
 liberal proprietor of the village, * you won't be 
 letting that fellow stay in yer cottages — ^ye'U hoont 
 him out of coorse.' 
 
126 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 " ' Indeed I won't/ said the liberal man. ' They 
 want their children to be taught to read and write, 
 and if you by your absurdities drive them from one 
 teaching they have a right to look for another.' 
 
 " ' But sure if you ordered them to send their 
 children to school, they couldn't but do it.' 
 
 " * Of course not, and it's for that very reason I 
 won't interfere. As long as they think it right to 
 obey their priests, I won't force them to commit the 
 sin of disobedience. One thing, however, I am 
 willing to do for you, — but there must be some 
 alteration first in your system, I imagine, or your 
 school will remain, as it is now, empty.'' 
 
 *' 'And what's that?' asked the minister, sharply. 
 ^ What alteration would you be for having ? ' 
 
 " ' Simply this. You must enable me to assure 
 Father Maguire that there shall be no abuse of the 
 religion which you so profoundly execrate ; and, 
 moreover, that the children shall not be forced to 
 read any Bible but the one allowed by the priests, 
 namely, the Douai Bible.' 
 
 " The minister looked at the liberal landlord with 
 eyes of horror. 
 
 " *The Douai Bible!' he exclaimed, almost fran- 
 tically. * Sure you're not aware that in the Douai 
 Bible the word penance is substituted for penitence ? 
 
THE DOUAI BIBLE. 127 
 
 And you would be for putting such a book into the 
 children's hands ? Sure you're joking.' 
 
 " It was almost laughable (for I was present at the 
 conversation) to see the dismay that the bare idea 
 of so dangerous an innovation excited in the breast 
 of the missionary ; and the absurdity of his line 
 of argument induced me to take a part in the 
 discussion. 
 
 " *And so,' I said, * sooner than allow the chil- 
 dren's eyes to rest upon the one or two scattered 
 words which, to their untrained and uncontroversial 
 minds, would convey no perilous meaning, you keep 
 from them the startling sentences and searching 
 texts which, from the beginning to the end of the 
 Revealed Word, convict their priests of error, and 
 justify us in our simple faith.' 
 
 " The minister's stolid face showed no signs of 
 yielding, nor did he even deign to continue the 
 argument, but said, doggedly — 
 
 " ' It couldn't be done, any way — it's against the 
 rules of the Mission.' 
 
 " * Then,' continued I, * suppose you agree to Mr. 
 
 's proposal, and, abstaining from controversy 
 
 with these infant Papists, permit them to hear the 
 Bible read by the two small Protestants who at 
 present are your only scholars. Surely in this 
 
" T~rTTTI,TirTT.T^ T^XT^T^ " 
 
 128 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 manner the exigency of the case might be met, and 
 the childi'en would certainly have a better chance 
 than at present of escaping from the dangers of 
 Popery.' 
 
 " * It's against the rules of the Mission,' was again 
 the missionary's uncompromising reply. * The 
 Romanists must be made to read our Bible them- 
 selves ; and we are bound both to talk controversy, 
 and to preach it to these idolators! 
 
 " What more could we urge in favour of a better 
 system to a man so prejudiced and bigoted ? Clearly 
 nothing ; so, in disgust at our failure, and in pity for 
 the wrong-headed stupidity both of the * minister * 
 and his employers, we went our several ways regret- 
 fully." 
 
 " And," demanded I, when Fairholme had paused 
 awhile for breath, after his long narrative, " have 
 the scholars never returned to the Protestant teach- 
 ing? And have not the peculiar circumstances of 
 the case induced any modification of the laws laid 
 down by the Mission?" 
 
 "I am sorry," replied Edward, "to answer your 
 last question in the negative, for experience has 
 taught these Christian rulers nothing. Nine months 
 have now elapsed since the famous prohibition of 
 the triumphant Father Maguire, and during that 
 
AN OVERPAID SCHOOLMASTER. 129 
 
 period not a child, with the exception of the Pro- 
 testants, has set its foot within the school. The 
 young schoolmaster receives his pay (twenty-four 
 pounds a-year) for doing nothing ; and while his 
 parents — whom he neglects — go about in rags and 
 misery, he loafs about in peg-tops of good broad- 
 cloth ; and (according to old Lynch) with a dandy 
 silk umbrella in his hand. However, enough has 
 been said on a subject which I fear is wearying 
 you ; but if I have convinced one capable of making 
 known the truth that there are in this small religious 
 world grave mistakes to be corrected, I shall not 
 have talked in vain." 
 
 "You have indeed shown me," was my reply, 
 " that reform is necessary ; but before we dismiss 
 the subject, I must again request you to tell me 
 what measures you would advise to be taken in a 
 matter of such vital importance. Surely you would 
 not abandon the scheme because those who conduct 
 it are incompetent to the work ! Nor can I believe 
 that you would, by beating a retreat, leave the field 
 of battle in possession of the conquerors." 
 
 " You do me no more than justice," rejoined 
 Fairholme, gravely, "for my residence in this 
 unhappy country, far from lessening my horror of a 
 system to which may be attributed at least half of 
 
J 30 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 the evils which we see around us, has increased that 
 horror a hundred-fold. Let us look around us. 
 Everywhere we meet with instances of theft, of 
 falsehood, and of ingratitude. This is the rule^ and 
 rare indeed are the exceptions ; while I do not hesi- 
 tate to affirm, that it is partly to our own short- 
 sighted policy that we owe the dangerous influence 
 of so low a class of priesthood as we have entailed 
 upon this country and people. Ill-paid themselves, 
 and forced to wring their very means of existence 
 from the pitiful earnings of the peasant, with the 
 daily sight, too, before their eyes, of fat livings — 
 sinecures, in many instances — of their Protestant 
 enemies, can we marvel at the consequences, or 
 that, besides the daily task on their part of keeping 
 up the worst feeling in the people's minds against 
 the Saxon, and the Protestant invader, they should 
 also, by their teaching, encourage those especial 
 vices of ingratitude and treachery which have made 
 Ireland a bye-word amongst nations?" 
 
 "I fear your picture is a true one," I put in, 
 " and also that its truth was equally manifest in the 
 earlier records of these luckless people. More than 
 two hundred years ago, as one reads, they were 
 * accused (as a community) of much treachery, false- 
 ness and thievery ; ' and that these are their charac- 
 
PEIESTLY INFLUENCE. 131 
 
 teristics at the present day can only be accounted 
 for by a system of misrule, and (as you assert) by 
 the evil influence of a low-class and necessarily 
 self-interested priesthood. ' ' 
 
 " I fully concur in the justice of your remark," re- 
 sponded Edward, "but the question of Irish misrule, 
 connected though it may remotely be with church 
 matters, is not one with which we have at present 
 to deal. What mostly interests me is the manner 
 in which the influence of the priests bears upon the 
 character of the people — ^how it degrades, and how 
 it plunges them into disgrace and guilt; and, to 
 begin the subject, let us take from their own pro- 
 mulgated writings proofs of the fearful danger of 
 their doctrines : the which having investigated, I 
 think you will agree with me that, to an ignorant 
 and easily-excited people (a people, too, whose 
 poverty naturally leads them to view the rights of 
 property with prejudiced eyes), such doctrines are 
 frilly sufficient to account, not only for the above- 
 named national characteristics, but also for the more 
 serious crimes for which Ireland has been, during 
 many years, so unhappily notorious. 
 
 *' There is a little book," continued Edward, still 
 more gravely, — " a book published under the sanction 
 of an Irish archbishop, a few extracts from which 
 
 K 2 
 
II „XT,,,,X-..T^ T.TT^T^ '» 
 
 132 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD 
 
 would alone go far to prove the truth of what I 
 have advanced. In this book the people are dis- 
 tinctly told that the * act of confession takes away 
 sin directly,' however great that sin may be. Also 
 they are instructed that if * m the morning before 
 you get ujj you make the sign of the cross and say^ 
 Jesus, Mary and Jose'ph, I give you my heart and 
 soul, you get an indulgence of one hundred days, 
 which, if you wish to do so, you may give to the 
 souls in purgatory.' 
 
 " The confusion likely to arise in the minds of 
 the ignorant between venial and mortal sin, must be 
 also very great. For instance, as regards the sin of 
 stealing, I will quote from memory the very words 
 of the book : — * It is a mortal sin to steal much. 
 If you steal from different jpersons, it needs half as 
 much again for a mortal sin; and the same if you 
 steal at different times. If you steal from different 
 persons as well as at different times, it needs double 
 the sum. If you steal often a little, when the little 
 sums come to make together a large sum, then it 
 becomes a mortal sin,^ 
 
 " It does not, I think, require much perspicacity to 
 see the evil which a teaching such as this entails. 
 I could cite many instances in this little work of a 
 similar tendency, but I will content myself with one, 
 
IRISH VIEW OF A PROMISE. 133 
 
 namely, that which regards the keeping of a promise. 
 ^ A jpromise^' it is said, ''is often no more than the 
 exjpression of one's intention ;' and ''a promise to give 
 does not oblige at all when things change so much 
 afterwards that^ if you had foreseen it^ you would 
 not have made the promise.^ " 
 
 I was greatly struck by the words quoted to me 
 by Fairholme, and could not refrain from fully agree- 
 ing with him in the opinion that the reputation for un- 
 trustworthiness, of " treachery and thievery," which 
 the Irish have so long " enjoyed," was partly to be 
 accounted for by the evil teaching they have received. 
 
 " There can be little doubt — at least, I have long 
 believed so," continued Fairholme — " that there exist 
 such evil things as atmospheric characteristics — 
 chronic sins and weaknesses fostered by the habit of 
 .centuries, till the indulging in them becomes, so to 
 speak, as necessary as the air, with which they are 
 filled. Now, in this matter of the keeping, or other- 
 wise, of a promise given, I have heard enlightened 
 men in this country — men on whose word and 
 honour I would implicitly rely — declare that in their 
 opinion a promise might be broken, should it have 
 been made under circumstances at the time unknown 
 to the maker, and which rendered the keeping of it 
 detrimental to his interests." 
 
134 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 I laughed. "A strange idea, indeed," I said, 
 " and one which, considering how incHned human 
 beings naturally are to look first to their own 
 interests, leaves indeed a wide margin to be filled 
 up. It is a melancholy thing, and a dangerous, 
 when a promise ceases to be a sacred thing ; and, in 
 my opinion, only the voluntary and guilty misleading 
 of the promisee can absolve the individual bound 
 from the consequences, however injurious to himself, 
 of the solemn engagement he has entered into." 
 
 " You would find in this country very few, I fear, 
 who would take the same view of the case," rejoined 
 Fairholme, " and thence, partly, the low estimate 
 that is generally entertained on our side of the 
 Channel of Celtic truth and justice. That they 
 have — ^I mean the enlightened amongst the population 
 — their own code of honour, which many obey reli- 
 giously, I do not deny ; and, after all, why are we 
 called upon to blame them because that code differs 
 somewhat from our own?" 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A SIGHT OF SEALS OULD LARRY DEEP SEA 
 
 FISHING. 
 
 The sun had fully risen before any stir on board 
 the "Humming Bird" betokened that the little 
 Yessel was other than a painted ship upon the 
 tranquil waters of the bay. 
 
 The calm of the air was still profound — not a 
 breath of wind was to be felt, and the broad Atlantic 
 was so unruffled that it reflected in its mirror-like 
 surface every feature of the mountain side near 
 which the cutter lay. Beautiful in the early sun- 
 shine appeared the dark grey crags, peeping out 
 from amongst the purple heather, and wondrous 
 looked the glass-like sea stretching out in its 
 slumbering majesty towards the far-off" western 
 world. 
 
 Silence so intense, and, if I may be allowed the 
 word, so all-absorbing, is comparatively rare in the 
 light of day; and there was something almost 
 
" XXXT,r,,X-»T^ T.TT,T^ " 
 
 136 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD 
 
 startling in the unnatural stillness and absence of 
 life around us. There were as yet no sea-birds upon 
 the wing, no cormorants flying low along the water 
 in pursuit of their finny prey — not even a puffin 
 airing his pinions for his long day's work. So 
 quietly, indeed, was nature sleeping that when 
 Bertha's footfall near, warned me .that she at least 
 had risen fi"om her slumbers, there was a sort of 
 cheerful comfort in the small sound she made. She 
 looked so fresh and bright, too, that I forgot the 
 expression of what I hoped was but a transient 
 sorrow ; and, as I instinctively called to mind her 
 husband's panegyrics, and listened to her winning 
 voice, I could well understand the blessing that was 
 brought to one of Fairholme's sensitive temperament 
 by a buoyant nature such as hers. 
 
 " What an idle world it is to-day," she said, after 
 our morning greetings had been exchanged. " Not 
 a bird or beast but seems inclined to he a-bed ; and 
 even Job is sleeping, or he would be looking out as 
 usual for the wind. But what is that?" she cried, 
 with a sudden exclamation. " Oh, Mark, look 
 there ! I do believe it is a seal — that black round 
 thing that is gliding towards us on the water." 
 
 I looked towards the vessel's stem, and there, 
 sure enough, was the creature Bertha had named ; 
 
THE SEAL. 137 
 
 while, simultaneous almost with our discovery, there 
 rose from the forecastle a prolonged and melodious 
 whistle. 
 
 Bertha laid her finger on her lip. 
 
 " It's Mike," she whispered, " and he's calling 
 for the seal. The harmless creatures love music 
 dearly, and even Mike's whistle may entice it on 
 towards us." 
 
 " They're easy enough to hit," I remarked, not 
 noticing at the moment how interested my com- 
 panion was in the animal itself, and forgetting the 
 impossibility of her conniving at a plot for its 
 destruction. 
 
 " They're easy enough to hit, but the difficulty is 
 to bag them, they sink so directly. We must try 
 and find one on the land ;" and I raised the glass to 
 my eye for a survey of the adjacent rocks. 
 
 "You wouldn't surely kill them!" exclaimed 
 Bertha, in dismay ; " you couldn't kill such an 
 inoffensive creature ! They do no harm. They 
 do not, like Edward's eagle, feed on other beasts, 
 and " 
 
 " You are mistaken. Bertha," said a voice behind 
 us, " for the seal, amiable as he looks, is anything 
 but innocuous, as he feeds voraciously on other fish, 
 especially on the salmon, and commits dreadful 
 
138 THE CEUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 havoc amongst the herring-nets. Still it seems a 
 cruel act to kill him ; and the more especially as the 
 people have a superstitious feeling about the meek- 
 eyed animals, and will always save them, if they 
 can." 
 
 Edward, tor it was he who had joined us, took 
 the glass from me as he spoke, and fixed it on the 
 round black head, which, after having disappeared 
 several times, and for many minutes at a time, since 
 we had first perceived it, was now visible at a 
 distance of about fifty yards from the yacht. 
 
 " It has a little one, Bertha," he said to his wife ; 
 " a tiny little black fellow clinging to it. Take the 
 glass, and look." 
 
 Mrs. Fairholme was delighted with the sight, as 
 tender women generally are by anything young and 
 helpless. 
 
 " The tiny darling," she cried — and then to me 
 — " Oh Mark, are not you glad you did not shoot 
 the mother ? How unhappy it would have been, left 
 alone!" 
 
 *' Alone — alone, all, all alone; 
 Alone on a wide, wide sea; " 
 
 quoted Edward, in a low voice, and then added, 
 turning to me, 
 
 " I daresay you never heard the strange idea that 
 
IRISH SUPERSTITION. 139 
 
 these people entertain of a seal's inner nature. 
 They imagine, — the fantastical mountaineers — ^that 
 thousands of drowning beings, struggling for life on 
 the rolling waters of the Deluge, perished hereabouts 
 in the body, but that their souls entered into the 
 amphibious animals, — of whom (by the way) I see, at 
 this moment, no less than seven basking on the rock 
 yonder in the morning sun." 
 
 It was quite true (I mean the presence of the 
 un wieldly things upon the little peninsula), but 
 Bertha's gentle influence, and Edward's account of 
 the popular superstition, had extinguished in me, for 
 the moment, the desire to slay, so we left them to 
 their own enjoyments. 
 
 About twelve o'clock the wind sprung up suddenly 
 — a good stiff breeze to the eastward, — and we lost 
 no time, after tying one reef in the mainsail, in pro- 
 ceeding on our voyage. 
 
 Mike was again full of business, deeming it his 
 duty to act (as before) the part of Cicerone^ whilst 
 we, amused at his anecdotes, and full of wondering 
 admiration of a people who, if you give them but a 
 pipe to smoke, and liberty to talk, have " the impu- 
 dence to be happy," remained upon the deck enjoying 
 the fresh sea breeze, and the vivid sunshine that 
 gleamed from out the cloudless sky. 
 
140 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 On we sped, past the sandy beach to which the 
 wild waves careered right noisily, past the purple 
 islands, over which the blue sky bent so brightly, 
 and past the rocky, water-circled acre, where, 
 according to the loquacious Mike, an old man lived 
 alone, a godless life, and heaping up the silver 
 which at his decease his distant kin would share. 
 
 "Bedad an it's hissel' as has the money," said 
 Mike, as we dashed past the rock and heather 
 covered island, standing solitary in that wilderness of 
 sky and sea. " It isn't God or divil that ould Larry 
 fears, but jist the loss of the gould he's got. They 
 do be saying he's left orders afther him to be buried 
 in his breeches, bekase of the money that's in it ; 
 bad look to him for that same." 
 
 " But how did he make his money ? " I enquired. 
 
 " Fait, an' it wasn't trusting to one way it was at 
 all, yer Honour ; I'm thinking mysel' it's the lobsters 
 most times when they was in it." 
 
 With so decidedly lucid an explanation of the 
 mystery, we should have been exacting in the 
 extreme had we not been satisfied ; we therefore 
 Resisted from any further queries concerning the 
 origin of " ould Larry's " reputed fortune. 
 
 During the five hours that elapsed whilst, with- 
 out any determinate plan or object, we sailed about 
 
HINTS OF THE PAST. 14j1 
 
 and around the islands tliat are strewed near the 
 ocean's limit, the wind had been anything but steady : 
 only, as is usual on this unreliable location (where 
 the wild and thundering waves are, as I once heard 
 poetically remarked by a quick-witted Paddy while 
 arguing with a disloyal cousin from America, the 
 Armstrong guns which guard these shores), the 
 breeze that blew in strong and fitful gusts was 
 alternated by calms as sudden as they were un- 
 wished for. 
 
 It was during one of those silent lulls that Fair- 
 holme, while he reclined under the lee of the low 
 bulwark, commenced talking to me of a friend who 
 had been, like ourselves — only for a somewhat longer 
 period — an inhabitant of these western solitudes. 
 
 " We will take a cruise and see old Gascoigne, 
 after Tremlett's departure. He is to go next week. 
 I was going to say, thank God ! For I sometimes 
 find myself forgetting that he is Bertha's brother, 
 more shame for me ! " 
 
 "But why not go before?" I asked, "why not 
 sail to the Island to-day ? The wind is fair, and old 
 Job is willing, which is a great point. We should 
 be there in two hours, and take our Robinson 
 Crusoe by surprise." 
 
 " Impossible ! " said Edward, imperatively. " He 
 
142 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 and Tremlett are — I will not say at daggers drawn 
 — but on those terms of civil mutual dislike which 
 makes it to be desired that the sea should lie 
 between them ; and far be it from me to facilitate 
 their meeting. The fact is," he added, after a few 
 minutes' pause and seeming hesitation, " the fact is, 
 that Gascoigne being an old friend and near neigh- 
 bour, was a good deal at Westfield during the time 
 of my poor mother-in-law's last illness. He was 
 aware of the great influence which Mr. 'Donovan 
 had obtained over her mind, and thought that Trem- 
 lett was very unjust in his suspicions of my young 
 cousin, Cyril Vernon, — ^you remember him, don't 
 you, Mark?" 
 
 " Only slightly ; a little weak-looking fellow, was 
 he not?" 
 
 " Very weak," said Fairholme, bitterly ; " for he 
 and his few thousands fell an easy prey to Mr. 
 'Donovan's zeal for proselytising, and his Church's 
 greed of gain. But the story is a long, as well as a 
 very painful one, so we will keep it for some quieter 
 hour than this, and for a time when we shall be 
 safer from the chance of interruption." 
 
 "But about Gascoigne?" I ventured to ask, 
 although Fairholme seemed evidently rather dis- 
 inclined to continue the conversation. "I see no 
 
tremlett's charity. 145 
 
 reason for Ms having quitted the world, and leading 
 this Alexander Selkirk kind of life. He was engaged, 
 if I mistake not, to young Vernon's sister " 
 
 " Who went over to Rome, and is now a nun, not 
 yet professed, but in the year of her novitiate, in a 
 convent of an order the strictest and severest that 
 exists. There never was so complete a wreck of 
 family happiness as that which followed on the 
 surging in amongst us of the fretful, ever-working 
 breakers of Romish Catholicism, in the person of 
 that sleek, dangerous, and ambitious Jesuit. But, 
 my dear Mark, there are scenes connected with 
 that period which I would rather banish from my 
 ruemory while I have yet to meet my wife's brother 
 face to face. He is a good man, I hope and believe, 
 but he has little charity " 
 
 " Plenty, I imagine," was my rejoinder, as I inter- 
 rupted him with, I fear, scant ceremony ; " plenty 
 of that species of charity which is so apt both to 
 begin and end ^ at home.' I allude to that agree- 
 able virtue when it teaches us to * think no evil ' of 
 our own selves." 
 
 Fairholme made no reply to this sally, and it was 
 perhaps a rehef to both of us when Mike came aft 
 with the announcement that we were over the best 
 of all possible trawling grounds, and that it was 
 
144 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 consequently advisable that the net should be got 
 out without loss of time. 
 
 The old fisherman's hint was immediately taken, 
 and sail having been shortened, the trawl was, "with 
 the help of all hands, save Bertha's, lowered from 
 the deck. For about half an hour we sailed onwards 
 with a light breeze following us, and then, having 
 lain-to, we all (on the tiptoe of excitement) pre- 
 pared for the hauling in of the net. It was rather 
 a long business, for the trawl was large and heavy, 
 added to which we had taken a good many weighty 
 fish. Our victims were in agreeable variety, con- 
 taining amongst their numbers a small but inviting- 
 looking turbot ; two " old maids," who grinned at us 
 defiantly ; several John Dorys, and soles of large 
 dimensions. They lay upon the deck (greatly, as I 
 fancied, to the disgust of the cleanly Job), and were 
 mixed up with shells, full and empty, limpet-covered 
 stones, and trailing seaweed. 
 
 We had all — with the exception, as before, of 
 Bertha — lent our aid in hauling in the net ; and for 
 this purpose, and to protect our garments from the 
 wet, our sleeves were turned up nearly to the elbow. 
 The operation of disentangling the prizes from the 
 rubbish was nearly concluded, when, chancing to 
 turn my eyes towards Fairholme, I saw, to my 
 
DEENISH ISLAND. 145 
 
 surprise, a mark as of a severe cut upon his arm. 
 It had evidently been made by a long and jagged 
 wound, and extending, as it did, from the elbow to 
 the wrist, it presented, in its uneven line and reddish 
 purple hue, a singular appearance. 
 
 I was about to make some remark on the curious 
 character of the scar, when a movement of Bertha's 
 checked me. She had noticed, perhaps, the direc- 
 tion of my eyes, for at once crossing the deck, she 
 leant over her husband, and quietly drew down the 
 sleeve, the position of which the excitement of the 
 moment had probably induced him to overlook. 
 Edward's cheek, as was so often customary with 
 him, flushed visibly ; and Tremlett, whose keen eyes 
 nothing seemed to escape, looked almost significantly 
 at his sister. 
 
 " Another mystery ! " was my inward reflection, 
 but I could not pursue the train of thought to which 
 this little episode had given rise, for Tremlett, 
 addressing his brother-in-law, inquired of him the 
 name of a lighthouse that was visible through the 
 glass. 
 
 "It is the one on Dunross headland. That high 
 promontory you are looking at is on Deenish Island," 
 answered Fairholme ; and I fancied that there was 
 in his words a tone approaching to defiance. 
 
146 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 " That is where Gascoigne hid himself some 
 time ago, is it not?" asked Tremlett, in whose 
 manner there lurked a threat. 
 
 " The same ; but, Oswald, so long a time has now 
 elapsed since you have heard mention even of my 
 friend's name, that it can scarcely be an effort to you 
 to abstain from speaking of him, and we will 
 therefore, if you please, pass by the spot in silence. 
 See, you have already distressed poor Bertha, for 
 you are turning a day of promised pleasure into one 
 of painful memories, and are sorely embittering the 
 last hours that we are to spend together. Mark!" 
 he continued, turning to me, and speaking with a 
 sudden change of tone, " think you that Job will 
 let us now Mie to' for dinner, as Bertha has 
 been very provident, and will be disappointed if we 
 do not appreciate her merits as a cateress.'' 
 
 Collett made no difficulty in acceding to Edward's 
 proposal ; and, to the satisfaction of all, our little 
 voyage ended more cheerfully than at one time we 
 had dared to anticipate. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE SACRED REEK THE WEDDING BREAKFAST 
 
 PRIESTLY ASSAULTS. 
 
 Three days of heavy and continued rain, accom- 
 panied by a gale of wind which would hardly have 
 been out of place in either of the Equinoxes, fol- 
 lowed on the departure of the guest whose presence 
 had added so little to our enjoyment: but on the 
 fourth, notwithstanding the appearance simulta- 
 neously in the sky of three rainbows (an infallible 
 sign, according to a certain weather-wise Dominick 
 Moore, that from the "ind" of one of them a 
 " loomp of ruin " would surely fall), we decided on 
 setting at naught those gloomy prognostications, and 
 on embarking in the " Humming Bird " for the Bay 
 of Islands, with the intention of assisting at the 
 great annual "station," and Pathern^ about to be 
 held on the base and summit of Old Croagh 
 Patrick. 
 
 *' Shure it's the greatest in all Ireland, your 
 
 L 2 
 
148 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 Honour,' and it's fourteen times IVe been up the 
 same, by the blessing o' God." 
 
 " What, on your hands and knees ? Eh, Domi- 
 nick?" 
 
 " No ; but on me feet, your Honour, and fifteen 
 times round the top o' the mountain, which is as 
 good as an EngUsh mile aitch turn, and oust round 
 to the altar on the hands and knees, and the stones 
 very displazing an' cogglesome on me, saving your 
 Honour's presence." 
 
 " Well, you're a great pilgrim entirely, Dominick ; 
 but now, tell me," I said, " were there many doing 
 the same each time you were there ? " 
 
 "Troth, and there were, your Honour; and 
 hundreds, ay, and thousands, in it, and them saying 
 their beads — men and women — for the honour o' 
 God ! " 
 
 " Did your priest send you there for penance ? " 
 
 " Bedad, and he did not, your Honour. I went 
 of my own head." 
 
 He was an excellent, simple-hearted creature, that 
 same Dominick, a near " frind," too, of more than 
 one "pillar of the church," but a very poor man 
 withal. He had a strangely vacant and watery eye, 
 and was said by some (and indeed he looked it) to 
 be "a little light ; " nevertheless, he was a great 
 
THE SACRED REEK. 149 
 
 scholar, and "had the Latin and the figures" at 
 his fingers' ends. 
 
 I can see him before me now, with his bony face, 
 large features, and huge brazen spectacles, the 
 which were always placed upside down upon his 
 nose, and fastened to the one button that still 
 adorned his rusty coat by a long piece of pack- 
 thread. There was in every — aye, even in the very 
 poorest — cabin a welcome and a meal for harmless, 
 learned, half-witted Dominick Moore, whose pro- 
 fession was that of parish clerk ; whilst he eked 
 out his precarious bachelor existence, by what he 
 called the labours of " Escularpeeous," namely, the 
 physicking and attending upon the various ailments 
 of the four-footed, as well as of the human creation. 
 
 " Sharing, too, in the innumerable superstitions of 
 those he pretends to heal," added Fairholme, "for 
 • — would you beheve it, Mark? — there are num- 
 bers of the peasantry in this country who refuse to 
 allow their children to be vaccinated, from an idea 
 • — deeply rooted, and one which we have striven in 
 vain to combat — that the vaccine matter may pos- 
 sibly have been taken from Protestant subjects ; and 
 that in that case, the infant operated upon must 
 become fatally and inveterately inoculated with the 
 dreadful disease of heresy." 
 
a .XTT,C,rT^T^ X.XT,T^ " 
 
 150 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 " How unutterably absurd," I remarked, laughing 
 heartily at this instance of superstitious ignorance, 
 " and at the same time what a melancholy proof of 
 the virulent animosity occasioned by difference of 
 creed. But, Fairholme, who do I see before us, on 
 that outside car ? Surely they are not nuns, in such 
 a very unconcealing vehicle." 
 
 But in spite of my incredulity, and of the great 
 improbability of such a display on the pathem-daiy, 
 nuns they were, sure enough. Two of them seated 
 side by side, with their black serge garments 
 folded closely round them, and with one hand over 
 their eyes, whilst the other held the heavy cross and 
 beads. A thin, tall priest very ineffectually balanced 
 the good sisters on the off-side of the car, and the 
 whole party was enveloped in what is very rare in 
 this country — namely, a cloud of dust. 
 
 " I beheve one of those Sisters of Mercy to be 
 foremost amongst the best women in the world," 
 said Bertha, when the car was out of sight. *' The 
 good that she, and the nuns of her order, do 
 amongst the poor, is incalculable ; and she — Sister 
 Mary, I mean — is so warm-hearted, so meek, so 
 charitable, in the best sense of the word, that I 
 often long to make her known to some at home 
 who condemn and loathe so bitterly, and so indis- 
 
TAKING THE VEIL. 151 
 
 crimmately, the entire sworn sisterhood of the 
 Church of Rome." 
 
 " They are wonderfully cheerful too," continued 
 Edward, " at least on their show days ; although 
 one cannot but fear (for, after all, they are human, 
 poor things,) that they must have their hours of sore 
 struggle with the weak flesh, and many a moment 
 of depression and weariness of spirit." 
 
 By the time that Fairholme had concluded his 
 surmise regarding the possible weaknesses of the 
 excellent Sisters of Mercy, we had reached our little 
 quay ; but as we put off to the cutter, he continued 
 the subject by narrating rather an amusing morning 
 (inapplicable as the term may seem) which he and 
 his wife had once spent in the convent. 
 
 *' It was on the occasion of the profession of a 
 rather rich young lady, whose year of novitiate 
 had expired, and who was on that day to become 
 the bride of the church, and dedicate herself to its 
 service. The ceremony was appointed to take 
 place at nine o'clock in the morning, and a great 
 dignitary — ^no less a person than John of Tuam — 
 was to officiate on the occasion. So the wedding, 
 for in the light of that generally considered joyous 
 ceremony the nuns seemed to consider the ritual, 
 was to be a grand affair of its kind. So many 
 
152 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 people have seen, and so many have described the 
 taking of the veil by a poor, deluded girl, that I 
 shall say nothing about that portion of the morn- 
 ing's programme. The chapel was beautifully 
 decked with flowers, the priests' looked very im- 
 posing in their lace and their crosses, their yellow 
 damask and their tonsured crowns — the organ 
 pealed forth its inspiring tones, and the nuns all 
 behaved with solemn and uniform decorum, save 
 one, and she — ^but maybe she had some private 
 cause for sorrow — bedewed her open prayer-book 
 with her silently-falling tears during the entire 
 period of the ceremony, which lasted, I think, about 
 two hours, and was witnessed by as large a com- 
 pany as the place would contain. 
 
 When it was over we were invited to go up-stairs 
 to the deje'dner, which was served in the refectory, 
 and a very excellent wedding breakfast it was, to 
 which from fifty to sixty guests of both sexes sat 
 down, whilst the nuns (it was a great day for them) 
 moved with their slow stealthy steps and trailing 
 garments about the room, attending to the wants of 
 their guests, and, I should imagine, greatly enjoying 
 the unwonted dissipation. The priests mustered 
 strong on the occasion, and Bertha, who sat be- 
 tween the Dean and an agreeable Jesuit, could tell 
 
THE WEDDING CAKE. 153 
 
 you how pleasant they made themselves, and how 
 hospitably they helped to do the honours of the 
 entertainment." 
 
 " Yes, it really was great fun," said Bertha, 
 " though it seems almost wicked to say so ; for the 
 Dean was wonderfully jolly, and amusing. I think he 
 would have sung a song if any one had asked him— 
 and cautioned me so quaintly not to drink the con- 
 vent Port — quite in a whisper though, as if he were 
 afraid the nuns would hear him say that their bad 
 wine would poison me. But the cutting of the 
 cake entertained me most of anything — a wedding 
 cake ! Really though, it is shocking to think of their 
 carrying out the simile even to such small details." 
 
 " Yes," agreed Fairholme. " It is shocking when 
 throughout the service we are told, in terms which 
 always appear to me almost blasphemous, whose 
 bride the young girl has become. But nevertheless, 
 there the cake was, a well-iced cake from Dublin, 
 with orange flowers, and all the usual devices, and a 
 small figure of a nun quivering on a silvered spiral 
 wire at the top ! " 
 
 " It was very hard to cut though," said Bertha, 
 *' or the convent knives were not sharp, for the 
 Dean, on whom the duty devolved of making an 
 incision into it, almost gave up the attempt in 
 
154 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 despair. * Sure I'm not used to doing it at all/ he 
 said at last ; and then looking round at the assem- 
 bled nuns, he added benignly — * and it isn't any 
 wish of mine to see this sort of a wedding. Sure 
 I'd be far better plazed to see ye with a good hus- 
 band a-piece now.' " 
 
 " The sisters didn't blush — any one of them,'' 
 said Edward, " but there was a general cry of 'Ah! 
 now, Dane^ which spoke volumes, and then in an 
 aside to Bertha, the Reverend Mother remarked, by 
 way, I conclude, of apology, ' The Bane does any- 
 thing he likes here.' Poor old man! He was 
 gathered to his fathers some months ago, and the 
 poor have lost a good friend, and the * Priests' 
 party ' an able and a zealous supporter." 
 
 The scene at the Pathern was as curious a one as 
 I have ever witnessed. It was a fine clear day, but 
 with a fresh breeze blowing from the west, so 
 that the small white sails which careered along the 
 waters of the bay were dipped into the crested 
 waves as the skiffs bore their human freights to the 
 scene of religious entertainment. There must have 
 been many hundreds present, of all ages, and of 
 both sexes. A few (comparatively speaking) of what 
 are called the upper classes mixed occasionally in 
 the crowd, and the middle ranks were well repre- 
 
POOR PILGRIMS. 155 
 
 sented. Not a few, too, of decently and warmly- 
 clad peasants of the degree denominated snug were 
 scattered about — the men in their frieze coats, tall 
 hats and high white shirt-collars, and the women 
 dressed in shawls of gaudy coloured tartan, over their 
 cotton gowns. The matrons' heads were covered 
 with thick much-befrilled cottonish-looking caps, 
 whilst those of the unmarried girls were adorned 
 solely with the profuse gift of their often sunburnt 
 hair, the which appeared in most instances as though 
 it and a brush or comb had yet to make acquain- 
 tance. 
 
 " Yes, there are a few who look tolerably well to 
 do ; " said Edward, in answer to a remark of mine 
 touching the decent clothing of some of the assis- 
 tants at the fete. " Yes, there certainly are a few 
 who do not look as if they were to be pitied ; but 
 take another and a more attentive survey, and let 
 us mix more with the crowd, after which I imagine 
 you will agree with me, that the miserable ones 
 here present, are greatly in the majority." 
 
 I did as I was bid, and soon saw ample cause to 
 justify my friend's remark, for such a number of half- 
 starved, hollow-eyed, yellow-skinned objects, I never 
 before beheld together, and earnestly trust never to 
 see again. 
 
156 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 "And yet this is the harvest time," I said, "the 
 season when the potatoes are generally the most 
 plentiful, and — " 
 
 " But they were lately so destitute of the means 
 of existence," put in Edward, " that they were forced 
 to dig their potatoes in June. Then the strong 
 winds broke the stalks, and the continued rains 
 rotted them in the ground. They had no money to 
 pay the rent, so they sold the cow, and the pig, and 
 now, God help them, they have nothing before them 
 but the prospect of starvation." 
 
 It was a melancholy picture, but alas ! not an 
 overcharged one, as we had ample means of ascer- 
 taining. 
 
 " They will drag on this year," said an intelligent 
 Scotchman of the upper farmer class. " But next 
 year will he a famine year^ with only this improve- 
 ment on the '47 one, that there are fewer poor 
 wretches to suffer and to die ! " 
 
 "They will have help, let us hope, from Eng- 
 land," suggested Fairholme. 
 
 " They will not," said the farmer ; " England will 
 say that they do not deserve to be helped, because 
 in some parts of the country rich men have been 
 sacrificed to the rage of a starving and exasperated 
 peasantry." 
 
BLESSINGS OF EMIGRATION. 157 
 
 " But such crimes are unknown in this part of the 
 country?" 
 
 "Exactly; a more harmless, patient race do not 
 exist ; but for the few ^^/irighteous, compara- 
 tively, that are in the land, a whole people are to 
 be left unaided in their hunger and their naked- 
 ness." 
 
 " In my opinion," I remarked, " although I can 
 hardly venture to give one on such a subject, — but in 
 my opinion, a subscription throughout England to 
 enable the Irish small tenantry to emigrate to 
 America or Australia, would be the best form that 
 charity to these poor creatures could take." 
 
 " I quite agree with you," said Fairholme ; " but 
 in this case, as in every other, England would find 
 her design hindered by the priests. If the people 
 could but be made to understand that the influence 
 of their clergy, by encouraging the people to discon- 
 tent, and therefore to the commission of crime, often 
 prevents concessions from the landlords, and aid in 
 various shapes from England, much would be effected 
 for the good of these wretched people." 
 
 "Is their influence declining, think you?" was 
 my next question of the farmer. 
 
 " In many ways, I am happy to say it is, and that 
 the peasantry are not, as a mass, led so blindly by the 
 
158 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIED." 
 
 priests as was the case some years ago. They often 
 now resist his tyrannical commands, and on a late 
 occasion there was something very like a turn-up 
 fight between a reverend father and one of his 
 flock. The priest struck the man because he refused 
 to pay his fee, and the man returned the blow, an 
 act which, a few years ago, would have excited a 
 degree of wonder and horror which is far from being 
 the case at the present time. The class of gentle- 
 men, however," continued the farmer, " who come 
 converting and bribing, do an immense deal of 
 harm." 
 
 " They certainly do not possess the means of 
 doing good," said Edward ; " while, as we have so 
 often said, the Established Church is represented by 
 an overpaid and generally idle body of men, who 
 indulge in the luxury of wives and children, at which 
 the hard-working and necessarily lonely priests 
 scowl with envy and hatred as they pass them 
 
 by." 
 
 "For which cause, if for no other," I said, "it 
 would be infinitely better to come amongst this 
 Roman Catholic population with the wish rather to 
 smoke the calumet of peace, than to wave before 
 them the banner of defiance. Times are, however, 
 changed since the days when the Protestant 
 
MORAL INFLUENCE. 159 
 
 minister ' obliged ' the priest, his neighbour, with the 
 grazing of a cow, receiving from the latter, in retm-n, 
 the use of the chapel floor for the thrashing of his 
 corn ! " 
 
 "Yes," said Edward, "the days of good-will 
 between those ministers of God's word whose creeds 
 are different, has indeed gone by, and this is not 
 only to be attributed to that terrible polemical male- 
 volence — if I may use the word — which has roused 
 men's fiercest passions since the world began ; but 
 because of the changed character of the priests 
 themselves. I must not allow you, however, to mis- 
 take my meaning, or to imagine that I accuse the 
 priests of any sins of immorality, or other glaring 
 offences. On the contrary, I believe that their 
 influence on the moral conduct of the people is in 
 some respects excellent ; and that there is consider- 
 able danger in removing some of the barriers which 
 they place in the way of the grosser sins. * Men 
 who have ceased to reverence,' are in grievous peril 
 of becoming slack in their religious duties ; and the 
 peasants do reverence both their priesthood and the 
 creed they teach them." 
 
 " Besides," I suggested, " it is such a comfortable 
 religion, that we can scarcely wonder at their pre- 
 ferring it to our colder creed. It is like an Irish 
 
160 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 welcome, — his far-famed Cead mille failthe. 
 Most pleasant indeed if one could only believe in 
 it!" 
 
 "Added to which," said Fairholme, " it is 2i per- 
 secuted faith, which, with a people such as these, is 
 not without its weight. But to return to what I 
 was about to say regarding the altered character of 
 the priesthood generally. In the first place they are, 
 as a general rule, no longer liberally educated 
 gentlemen, but are belonging, in almost every 
 instance, to the peasant class ; very poor they are 
 also, and it is therefore to their interest that the 
 people should remain religiously unenlightened. But 
 for some of these evils have we not ourselves to 
 blame? And when we look back to the various 
 edicts, in days gone by, against a class who might, 
 under a different rule, have become (even as the 
 whole Irish people) useful citizens, and England's 
 friends ; we can scarcely wonder that they should 
 have turned to enemies, and that the evils brought 
 upon the land should be almost incalculable ! Let 
 me cite one instance alone of misguided tyranny, 
 as exemplified in a law promulgated in the reign of 
 William and Mary. That law ordered all popish 
 persons exercising ecclesiastical jurisdiction, and all 
 priests not then actually in parishes and to be regis- 
 
GOOD IN EVERYTHING. 161 
 
 tered, to be banished the kingdom; and if they 
 should return from exile, to be hanged, drawn, and 
 quartered. Twenty pounds reward is given for 
 apprehending them, and heavy penalties for harbour- 
 ing and concealing them. As all the priests then 
 in being and registered are long since dead, and as 
 these laws are made perpetual, every popish priest 
 is liable to the law. It may seem absurd to rake up 
 in these days so old a grievance, but the spirit in 
 which such laws were made remains unchanged, 
 and if it be thus true that to the English is owing 
 in part the present religious ignorance of the people, 
 does it not behove us to bestir ourselves to the 
 utmost to undo the evil that we have caused? 
 Should we not also feel that it is our duty to deal 
 tenderly with those who suffer in consequence of our 
 fault, and also with a system which (I repeat) it would 
 be well for us in some respects to copy ? Is there no 
 * beauty,' I ask you, and no ^prajse,' in a religion 
 which brings forth even amidst its darkness some 
 excellent fruits? Look at their deeds of mercy — 
 glance at the obedience of the people who, even if 
 starving, would not desecrate their Friday's fast, nor 
 earn wages, however needed, during the fifty yearly 
 holidays, besides Sundays, which their church com- 
 mands them to respect; and tell me whether we 
 
162 THE CRUISE OF THE ^'HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 should altogether condemn such a faith as worthless, 
 and such a profession as hypocrisy? " 
 
 " These missionaries seem to think," said I, after 
 a pause, " that, like the apostles of old, a miracle 
 will follow upon their teaching, because of its violence 
 and vituperation ; whereas they should, I imagine, 
 proceed after the fashion of those who are known 
 to be the most easily understood, and the most 
 willingly hstened to by the *deaf' — namely, they 
 should utter their words slowly and distinctly, after 
 a due weighing of the truths they utter." 
 
 *' Exactly," pursued Edward ; " and for that 
 reason one of my first steps should be to abolish the 
 class of Scripture readers altogether, from the con- 
 viction that, as a body, they are the very last indi- 
 viduals in the world who should be intrusted with the 
 delicate work that is given them to do. And now, 
 having in part repKed to your question, I cannot 
 forbear to lay considerable stress upon the advantage 
 to be gained by all classes from furthering the 
 work of emigration. On the soil of his native 
 country an Irishman is nothing, does nothing, 
 and is worth nothing. In distant lands he will 
 meet with priests of his own faith more liberal 
 and better educated — men who will not withhold 
 from him the right of free election, but will permit 
 
NEED FOR CHARITY AS WELL AS GOLD. 163 
 
 him to decide for himself on the all-important 
 matters of his soul's salvation. It is little / can do," 
 continued my friend, in a lower and still sadder tone, 
 " to convince the rich religious world that it is their 
 supineness which is in some measure the cause of 
 Irish crimes. It is not in my limited power to make 
 my voice heard in this weighty cause ; but when / 
 am far away, dear Mark, will you make known the 
 truth that to these people, who are indeed * sitting in 
 darkness,' no real light can shine till the lamp is 
 more fully fed with the oil that heals the wounds of 
 strife and bitterness? Say aloud that the first 
 work of Bible Christians is at home^ and that now 
 is the time, while famine is staring the Irish Papists 
 in the face, and fever is knocking at their doors, 
 to come with English money and with English 
 love (a gift that will be new indeed to Celtic hearts), 
 and snatch them from the power of those whose 
 own necessities react so fearftiUy on their misguided 
 flocks." 
 
 Fairholme paused as though breathless ; and, 
 as he buried his face between his hands, I could feel 
 that he was praying silently. 
 
 After awhile he rose, and, asking my pardon for 
 his warmth and the lengthened disquisition he had 
 indulged in, proposed that we should seek some rest. 
 
 M 2 
 
164 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 The morning light was beginning to streak the 
 eastern sky with grey when we left the deck ; but 
 it was long ere I could sleep, for Edward's words, 
 and, above all, his saddened countenance, haunted 
 my wakeful hours. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FATHER o'dONOVAN — STRONG MEASURES — 
 CUTTING OUT. 
 
 "How is the wind this morning, Navan?" was 
 my first inquiry on the unusually bright-looking 
 morning which we had fixed on for our sail to 
 Deenish Island. 
 
 " Atsf, your Honour," replied Con, looking round 
 the sky, and evidently considering from which point 
 of the compass it would be " most plazing" to my 
 "Honour" that it should blow. 
 
 " Shall we have rain, do you think, to-day? " was 
 my next query. 
 
 " We shall not, your Honour," replied old 
 Dominick, who came sauntering up at the moment, 
 with his vacant eyes blinking in the morning sun- 
 light, like those of the would-be wise owl, whom in 
 countenance he not a little resembled. " We shall 
 not, your Honour, by the blessing of God ! " 
 
 "How many fine days now, Dominick, do you 
 
166 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 reckon that you get out of the three hundred and 
 sixty five ? " 
 
 " Bedad, then, and its not to say too many, your 
 Honour. Sure, I kept a dairy oust in the head of it 
 mysel', but it had me bet out enthirely ; for it's soft 
 weather it was the summer through, and the pratees 
 were rotted in the ground, saving your Honour's 
 presence, and the turf melting in the bog, till sorra 
 a bit of firing was there for a poor man to get the 
 year." 
 
 " Then you think the people are very badly off 
 this year ? " 
 
 " Troth, and they are, your Honour. Shure the 
 money isn't it at all. They haven't a baste, let alone 
 the crop. But shure it's the will o' God to send the 
 rain and the three bad saisens afther ; and the boys 
 do be going off to America to get the living shurely, 
 laving the wife and childre afther 'em, the crathurs ! " 
 
 It was the old story, and while Dominick was 
 doling it out he was standing idly on the little quay, 
 and still holding forth on the woes and wants of his 
 countrymen, when we stepped into the dingy, and 
 were rowed to the cutter, which lay at her moorings 
 in the bay. 
 
 As I sat opposite to my friend in the boat, I could 
 not but notice the careworn, anxious look upon his 
 
FAIRHOLME S PROMISE. 167 
 
 face, and I wondered, whilst thus sadly occupied, 
 what could have occurred during our two years of 
 separation (caused by my lengthened stay in another 
 hemisphere) to impress such marks of age upon his 
 thoughtful brow. 
 
 " To-day perhaps he will remember his promise," 
 was my inward hope, "and reveal to me the cir- 
 cumstances in which the history of the young 
 Vernons, and the mutual friend we are about to 
 visit, seem to be so curiously mixed up. I will not 
 press him to discuss the subject, but if anything 
 should lead to its renewal, I shall deem myself 
 fortunate, since it might be 'awkward,' when in 
 company with our self-banished friend, not to know 
 something of his previous story as connected with 
 Tremlett and the Fairholmes." 
 
 I had made up my mind to the exercise of the 
 amount of self-denial required to subdue any out- 
 ward appearance of curiosity, and was listlessly 
 gazing over the weather side of the " Humming 
 Bird" as she careered over the waters of the bay, 
 when I was rewarded for my mental effort by 
 Edward's voice saying, as he leant over the bulwark 
 by my side — 
 
 "Have you forgotten my promise, Mark, or 
 rather the proposal which I made you to relate the 
 
(■<■ rTTT»,»rTXT/N TITT^T^ " 
 
 168 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 apparently mysterious circumstances attending on 
 my almost quarrel with my wife's brother ? " 
 
 " Indeed I have not," was my reply ; " and but 
 for fear of being thought inquisitive, as well as 
 importunate, I should ere this have reminded you of 
 a promise which I consider in the light of an 
 especial act of friendship." 
 
 Fairholme drew a long breath, and seemed for a 
 moment as though collecting his energies for a 
 painful effort ; after which evidently rather difficult 
 exertion of self-control, he spoke as follows : — 
 
 " You say you remember my cousin, Cyril 
 Vernon ; but as you saw him, if I remember right, 
 but once, you can hardly form to yourself a correct 
 idea of what he was, when nearly two years had 
 elapsed after what may almost be called the 
 transient glimpse you had of him." 
 
 " He was a beautiful boy," I said. " That I re- 
 member well. A boy with soft blue eyes, Hquid 
 and tender as a woman's, and with fair curls 
 that — — " 
 
 " Ah ! I see you have not forgotten him," inter- 
 rupted Fairholme, rather impatiently. " Well, 
 Mark, such as you describe him, only infinitely 
 more attractive, was Cyril Vernon when I first 
 became acquainted with my Bertha's, and Oswald 
 
FATHER O DONOVAN. 169 
 
 Tremlett's motlier. You are perhaps not aware that 
 the principal portion of the wealthy Mrs. Tremlett's 
 property was in her own power, and that she was, 
 at the time I mention, a rather handsome, not over- 
 wise, and very enthusiastically inclined lady, of a 
 little past forty years of age." 
 
 " You are speaking," I asked, " of the year when 
 you took possession of your pretty place in Devon- 
 shire?" 
 
 *' Exactly ; and when Vernon, with his father and 
 sister, paid me a visit at Okecliif, which was situated 
 within a mile of Mrs. Tremlett's residence. Young 
 Vernon had at that time just left a very High 
 Church school, and had become strongly imbued 
 with what I considered to be dangerously Papistical 
 opinions." 
 
 "But he was almost a child at the period I 
 allude to, and surely it would have been no difficult 
 task to root out the evil before it had gained any 
 important hold upon his mind." 
 
 " Easy enough such a duty might have been, as 
 you justly remark, had there not been a Roman 
 Catholic agent in the neighbourhood who soon 
 made the task impossible." 
 
 " You allude to Mr. O'Donovan ? " 
 
 " I do — ^to the Jesuit priest, than whom a wilier 
 
170 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 man, and one more fitted for his work, never re- 
 ceived his credentials from the unceasingly active 
 head-quarters of his Church. The manner of his 
 attack, if attack it could be called, was conducted 
 under a system of tactics which had evidently been 
 laid down by a master hand, and was pursued by a 
 pupil who was by no means at his first essay in 
 carrying out the design which had been entrusted 
 to him." 
 
 " He was a very agreeable man, and appeared to 
 have lived much in the world," I remarked. 
 
 " Which was the case ; for he had not entered 
 the priesthood till he had arrived at the age of 
 thirty, and his worldly knowledge, and especially 
 the experience which a man so handsome and fasci- 
 nating could not have failed to obtain during his 
 intercourse, as a layman, with his fellow-beings, 
 stood him in good stead in his new and arduous 
 avocation. Then, too," continued Fairholme, after 
 a pause, " everything seemed to favour his projects, 
 and render more easy the task which his Church 
 had commanded him to perform. The father of the 
 proposed victims was a weak-minded and helpless 
 invalid, who was far too much engrossed by the care 
 of his own health t.o have either leisure or inclina- 
 tion to dwell upon the dangers which threatened the 
 
AN EASY TOOL. 171 
 
 Well-being of his cliildreii. He died — you recollect 
 my poor uncle's death? — a few weeks only after 
 his removal to Torquay, and there can be no doubt 
 that the impression left upon the minds of Eva and 
 her brother by a death-bed scene which was pecu- 
 liarly painful in its character, was very great and 
 lasting." 
 
 " Did you see them often at that period ? " 
 *' I did ; but, to my shame, perceived positively 
 nothing that was going on. How could I ? I was 
 in love — you know what that means, Mark — and 
 every feeling of my heart, and all my powers of ob- 
 servation, were engrossed by Bertha Tremlett — the 
 idol of my fancy then, the faithful sharer of my joys 
 and sorrows now. Ours was a singular courtship," 
 continued Fairholme, "nothing joyous or youthful 
 in it, for a shadow of some coming evil seemed to 
 hover above the house, and Father 'Donovan 
 (Mrs. Tremlett had always called him * Father ') did 
 not succeed by his false smiling face in lighting up 
 the gloom. It was wonderful what power he so 
 soon obtained over that frivolous woman's character. 
 I believe he used to terrify her by working on her 
 nervous fancies, till he at last succeeded in persuading 
 her that in his religion alone there was power to 
 comfort and to save." 
 
172 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 " But had Bertha — had Mrs. Tremlett's daughter 
 — ^no misgivings as to the designs of Father 'Don- 
 ovan ? And where was Tremlett ? Surely Jie^ with 
 his evidently strong prejudices against the Roman 
 Cathohc faith, must have had some idea of what 
 was going on, and should have interfered between 
 his belongings and the priest." 
 
 " He had no such prejudices then, for they are in 
 great measure born of the miserable events which 
 followed on Mr. 'Donovan's intimacy with his 
 family. Besides, Oswald was very little at West- 
 field during that memorable time ; and the priest, to 
 do him and his zeal for his Church justice, did not, 
 as the saying is, let the grass grow under his feet. 
 I must, however, hurry on to the denouement^ a 
 portion of which you are already cognizant of, for if 
 I mistake not, Mrs. Tremlett's conversion to the 
 Roman Catholic religion, through the means of 
 'Donovan and my cousin Cyril, is no secret to 
 
 you." 
 
 " Through the means of your cousin Cyril ! " I 
 repeated, in amazement. " Why, how could that 
 boy — ^that child almost — ^have played a prominent 
 part in that dark drama ? " 
 
 "He was no child," said Edward, sternly, "but, 
 as I have said before, a young man, gifted with 
 
MORE CONVERTS. 173 
 
 extraordinary beauty of person, and with a charm of 
 voice and manner singularly winning. Mrs. Trem- 
 lett, too, as we are all aware, was vain of her 
 person, excitable, and fond of admiration, so — but 
 enough upon that hateful topic. — Cyril was the tool 
 and convert of 'Donovan, and his accomplice, I 
 grieve to say — is it not a hateful word? — in the 
 frauds (as Oswald denominates them) which pre- 
 ceded Mrs. Tremlett's death. After the latter' s 
 public profession of faith, both Bertha and I en- 
 deavoured, by every means in our power, to mark 
 our condemnation of the man who had lured, for 
 the enrichment of his Church and his own advance- 
 ment therein, those weak vessels to their ruin. He 
 could not but see our aim ; but, after all, what mat- 
 tered to him a displeasure which he did not seem 
 even to notice, so invariably courteous and sub- 
 missive was he in his manner to us both. They 
 had a strong party, too, in the house, those Papists, 
 for Eva and Cyril had, unknown to us, gone, as it 
 is called, over to Rome almost immediately after 
 their father's death; and they were now living 
 openly as converts under Mrs. Tremlett's roof." 
 
 *^ And when, and how was the announcement of 
 these sad events iSrst made to Oswald Tremlett?'* 
 
 ^' As to the. .'.by whom,' I know not, but we sus- 
 
174 THE CEUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 pected tliat some friend at home must have written 
 to warn him that there was danger in the wind. 
 Oswald was yachting at that time with a pleasant 
 party in the Mediterranean, woodcock-shooting in 
 Sardinia, and in other ways enjoying himself; other- 
 wise I have little doubt that he would have returned 
 to England at the slightest mention of the danger 
 which threatened his inheritance. As it was, how- 
 ever, he contented himself with writing, in an ex- 
 tremely angry letter to his sister, a solemn warning, 
 which filled the poor girl's mind with consternation, 
 for she had always feared more than she had loved 
 her often absent brother. To both Mrs. Tremlett 
 and me she confided the contents of that ill-judged 
 epistle. That she did so, was perhaps a mistake ; 
 but who can wonder that she made it ? The secret 
 was too weighty for her to bear alone, and she 
 shrunk from the responsibility of carrying out 
 unaided the wishes expressed in Oswald's letter. 
 From the moment when Mrs. Tremlett was made 
 acquainted with her son's suspicions, all was misery 
 at Westfield. To describe the mental struggles of 
 the unhappy woman would be impossible, distracted 
 as she was between her love for, and sense of duty 
 to her children, and the direful threatenings of 
 O'Donovan should she swerve in her allegiance to 
 
EVA S SACRIFICES. 175 
 
 the Church. Nor was poor Bertha much less to 
 be pitied ; for what with the pain it caused her to 
 remonstrate with her mother, whose internal con- 
 flicts were rapidly developing the mortal disease 
 under which she had long been labouring — and 
 what with her fear of her brother's displeasure, she 
 had a weary time of it." 
 
 "And about the young Vernons?" I asked. 
 "Did they remain (in appearance at least) passive 
 during that memorable time? " 
 
 " Certainly not, for Eva, as well as her brother, 
 often gave me serious cause for uneasiness concern- 
 ing them. Major Gascoigne's regiment was at that 
 time quartered at Exeter, and it is no exaggeration 
 to say that he soon became * desperately in love' 
 with my young cousin. At the time the attachment 
 commenced, Gascoigne was ignorant of the fact that 
 Eva had abjured the faith which he professed, and 
 believed to be the only true one. It was not long, 
 however, before he discovered what had occurred, 
 and his love, now strengthened into passion, had 
 taken so firm a hold upon him, that the idea of 
 giving up the hope of making Eva his wife never 
 for a moment seemed to enter his imagination. As 
 for the poor girl herself, she, as was very natural, 
 surrendered her whole being, except her conscience. 
 
176 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 to her lover. That^ alas ! was in the keeping of the 
 priest, and in obedience to Ms command, she, after 
 the engagement between them had been sanctioned 
 by Gascoigne's father, broke off a marriage on 
 which his happiness depended, and with a breaking 
 heart betook herself to the convent in Belgium, 
 where in a few weeks her year of novitiate will be 
 over, and her living death will be announced." 
 
 " And all this contrary to the dictates of her own 
 feelings, and, as I conclude, in defiance of her 
 lover's prayers ! Heavens ! what power the priests 
 of that religion gain, and with what remorseless 
 hands they exercise it ! " 
 
 " The power is, as you remark, immense, and the 
 remorse m7, or stifled by ^eir own fears of 'the 
 Church,' which, by the way, does not often instruct 
 her emissaries to take such exceeding trouble 
 except in cases where substantial benefit is to be 
 gained for the * Holy Mother.' But to return to the 
 distracted family at Westfield, and especially to 
 Cyril, whose state of mind while his sister's engage- 
 ment was in process of being broken off, was 
 evidently most unhappy. He had been very 
 intimate with Gascoigne before the latter's intro- 
 duction by him to Mrs. Tremlett's family ; and 
 many had been the small kindnesses conferred by 
 
RISING HOPES. 177 
 
 the older friend on the boy, who at that time lived 
 alone with his querulous and invalid father, and had 
 but few opportunities of enjoying any of the pleasures 
 in which lads of his age are in the habit of indulging. 
 It followed as a matter of course (for Cyril's nature 
 was clinging and affectionate in an almost womanly 
 degree), that he attached himself sincerely to the 
 friend who, as you and I both know full well, 
 possesses so many of the qualities which entitle a 
 man both to respect and aifection." 
 
 *' And that being the case, he must have rejoiced 
 greatly in the prospect of a marriage which was 
 likely to insure his sister's happiness, and convert 
 his friend into a brother." 
 
 " Exactly. Nor shall I easily forget the brighten- 
 ing of his whole face and manner when Philip 
 Gascoigne shook him by the hand, and said, * Cyril, 
 dear old fellow, congratulate me, for your darling 
 sister has promised to be my wife, and we shall be 
 one happy family together.' And we toere happy. 
 For one short week, during which O'Donovan was 
 absent from the neighbourhood, our evil genius 
 seemed to have departed. Eva's smile was as bright, 
 and almost as frequent, as my Bertha's ; and Cyril's 
 beautiful tenor voice — you remember what a gift 
 he had — was again heard in snatches of song about 
 
]78 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 the Jiouse, or in Mrs. Tremlett's morning room, 
 where, on her invalid's sofa, she dozed away, nnder 
 the influence of narcotics, a great portion of the 
 summer days." 
 
 "I can well understand how pleasant it must 
 have been ; and in that lovely place, too, under 
 those glorious elms. Two pairs of lovers, and " 
 
 " Ah, well, it had its drawbacks even during that 
 happy week," said Fairholme, with a sigh ; " for we 
 could not quite forget that relief from our incubus 
 was only momentary ; whilst I, to my infinite distress, 
 was becoming daily more convinced of the fact that 
 the unnatural austerities and the penances imposed 
 by the Church upon my poor weakly cousin (who, I 
 forgot to tell you, was doomed to the priesthood), 
 were working sad havoc in his excitable brain and 
 delicately-strung nerves." 
 
 " You do not mean to say that you feared his 
 reason was giving way under the pressm-e that was 
 laid upon it?" 
 
 " I hardly know what I thought, or what I feared. 
 But, Mark, believe me, that if there be a homble 
 situation in life, it is when you feel, compelled to 
 watch the movements of a fellow-being as you would 
 those of an animal who miglit be dangerous. And yet 
 in this case T could scarcely liave given a rational 
 
GASCOIGNE S DISAPPOINTMENT. 179 
 
 reason for the vague alarm that I was feeling. 
 Cyril's words and actions were, to casual observers, 
 not tinged by any appearance of eccentricity ; but 
 still a nameless fear regarding his sanity oppressed 
 me ; and although to no human being did I hint my 
 suspicions regarding my poor mother's sister's child, 
 I was ever, as I said before, watching his expressions 
 and his doings furtively. It was in the midst of this 
 fresh cause for anxiety that 0' Donovan returned, 
 and on the very next morning the blow was struck 
 which shattered poor Eva's hopes of earthly happi- 
 ness for ever. I am not about to describe the 
 scenes which followed, or to depict poor Gascoigne's 
 sorrow, which was, indeed, but little manifest to the 
 world, for he evmced great powers of self-control, 
 and was considerably aided in his efforts by the very 
 natural indignation with which the conduct of his 
 affianced bride inspired him. He has been softened 
 towards her since, poor fellow ! but the blow was 
 too sudden and too keen, and at first he thought but 
 of himself." 
 
 *' Poor fellow, indeed ! And now he is living in 
 solitude on that desolate island ! What a hermit- 
 like existence." 
 
 "Not quite that, as you will acknowledge when 
 you see him ; for Gascoigne, who has left the army, 
 
 N 2 
 
180 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 IS extremely fond of wild sports ; added to which he 
 has been employing his lonely hours in studying all 
 that can be said both for and against the faith which 
 his poor lost Eva has embraced, and " 
 
 " But you do not think that there is any chance 
 of his going over to Rome ? Surely, it is not in 
 this country, and with such examples as he must see 
 before him, that converts of his calibre of mind and 
 education are likely to be made." 
 
 *' Heaven knows," repHed Edward, sadly. " I 
 would answer for no one whose mind was weakened 
 by sorrow or by solitude, or where the dread was 
 felt that by persevering in a different faith, the 
 mourner for a lost one would lessen his chances 
 of meeting in another state of existence the ob- 
 ject of his affections. Well, poor Gascoigne left 
 Westfield in outward anger, but with something 
 very like despair tugging at his heartstrings, and a 
 few days afterwards, and whilst we — that is, Bertha, 
 and I who could not see unmoved the signs of 
 sorrow on her poor pale face — were endeavouring to 
 impress upon Cyril the necessity of procuring for 
 his sister a change of scene which might restore to 
 her pale cheeks some of the faint beautiful colour 
 she had lost,- — I say, whilst we were thus occupied 
 in projects for the poor girl's benefit, a letter to the 
 
tkemlett'b letter. 181 
 
 following effect was received by Bertha from Oswald 
 Tremlett. ' It gives me great cause for regret, my 
 dear Bertha,' he wrote, ' and forgive me if I add 
 displeasure^ to find that you are so entirely engrossed 
 by your own present happiness, and with your own 
 prospects for the future, that you are forgetting the 
 interests of your family, and giving free scope for 
 the success of the schemes wdiich that designing 
 priest, who seems, from what I hear, to have almost 
 taken up his abode at Westfield, has formed. But 
 greatly as you appear to be neglecting the requests 
 I have made you in this matter, I have fortunately 
 other friends in the county wdio are less lukewarm, 
 and from their information I can gather that my 
 speedy return is necessary to prevent serious inroads 
 being made upon my mother's property. Of course 
 it is extremely painful to me to allude to so delicate 
 a subject as my mother's will, but necessity obliges 
 me to entreat that till my return, which will be 
 shortly after your receipt of this letter, you must 
 prevent the priest, or any of his myrmidons^ having 
 access to your mother. You cannot be too much on 
 your guard, and above all, keep your eye upon the 
 Vernons.' This was the letter, which with flushed 
 cheeks, and I am sure a painfully beating heart, poor 
 Bertha broudit to me the instant that she received 
 
183 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 it. Perhaps a short reflection would have induced 
 her to conceal at least that portion of it in which 
 allusion was made to my relatives ; but she was 
 evidently too agitated to be cautious, so I had the 
 satisfaction of reading the whole bitter, underlined, 
 and angry eflusion. 
 
 " * Is it not cruel ? ' said Bertha, in whose eyes the 
 tears were brimming. * Too cruel to wish me to 
 torment my mother when she is ill ; and I cannot 
 believe,' she went on to say, * that Mr. O'Donovan 
 can really be so wicked, so grasping, as to take 
 advantage of Oswald's absence and mamma's illness 
 to — to defraud "us."' I confess that I did not 
 share Bertha's confidence in the priest's singleness of 
 purpose ; but one of the arguments which she used 
 to induce me to interfere in the matter, had certainly 
 the effect of increasing my unwillingness to assist in 
 subverting O'Donovan's schemes. For if it were 
 true that he was working on Mrs. Tremlett's nerves 
 and religious belief to induce her to make a will in 
 favour of the Church, it ill became me, at least I 
 considered so, to take an active part in saving the 
 fortune of my future wife from the clutches of the 
 despoiler. On the other hand, my own cousin was 
 to all appearance working with the enemy ; and I 
 was hesitating between the several courses to pur- 
 
MAKING THE WILL. 183 
 
 sue, when a station fly drove to the door, and 
 we saw alight from it a gentleman clad in rather 
 rusty black, whom Bertha at once recognised as 
 havmg seen, a few days previously, walking in a 
 secluded part of the grounds in company with Mr. 
 O'Donovan. ' Oh, Edward,' she exclaimed, with 
 sudden energy, * they are coming to torment 
 mamma, I am certain that they are, from some ex- 
 pressions she let fall to-day : and she has been so 
 excited, and so suffering since, that I feel convinced 
 it is something about money. It was always the 
 case when Oswald was at home, and talked what 
 he calls business with my poor mother, that she was 
 for hours, and sometimes days, before she recovered 
 from the effects of the interview.' " 
 
 " Our friend Tremlett seems to have shown some 
 early uneasiness concerning his mother's disposal of 
 her property," I remarked. 
 
 " It would appear so, but of course the subject 
 was not one that could well be discussed between 
 Bertha and me, which being the case, I endeavoured 
 to persuade her (and at last with success), to go to 
 her mother's morning room, and await the coming 
 of the enemy, promising that I would attend her 
 summons instantly, should she deem my presence 
 either useful or advisable. An hour, or nearly so. 
 
184 THE CRUIBE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 elapsed, and as I heard nothing of the intruder, I 
 began to hope that Bertha had been mistaken in 
 her surmises, and that the shabby individual in 
 black was a harmless specimen of his species. I was 
 signally wrong, however, as the event will prove. 
 Six o'clock had sounded, and the great stable-bell 
 had rung out its notice that work for the day was 
 over, when in the midst of the profound silence 
 which followed, I was startled by the sharp voice of 
 Bertha's maid, requesting me to go immediately to 
 Mrs. Tremlett's room ; and adding that her young 
 lady had been taken with a fainting fit. In consi- 
 derable alarm I followed her up-stairs, and into the 
 boudoir from which there escaped a strong odour of 
 aether. On the sofa, and supported by pillows, 
 reclined the death-like figure of Mrs. Tremlett, by 
 whose side sat Father 'Donovan, while the shabby- 
 genteel man in black stood at a few paces' distance. 
 Cyril, too, was present, but he was half hidden by 
 the window curtains, which fell at the back of 
 the couch, where he had ensconced himself. I 
 glanced round for Bertha, and was half-relieved and 
 half-alarmed to find that she was absent. On my 
 entrance 0' Donovan looked up in surprise and 
 evident displeasure, a feeling which was doubtless 
 not decreased, by the expression of relief which stole 
 
TOO LATE. 185 
 
 over Mrs. Tremlett's pain-worn face, as she dropped 
 the pen she had been holding between her feeble 
 fingers, and held her thin hand towards me in 
 greeting. 
 
 " ' Mrs. Tremlett is very particularly engaged,' 
 said the priest, * on a matter of earnest import, one 
 in which her soul's welfare is implicated; and as 
 you, Mr. Fairholme, are not, unhappily, of our faith, 
 you will, I hope, take no oftence when I remark that 
 your presence at this moment is undesirable.' 
 
 " Whilst 0' Donovan was speaking, I had glanced 
 at the open sheet of parchment, and on it I saw, 
 as plainly as though I had read the syllables 
 inscribed, the solemn words, * Last will and testa- 
 ment.' 
 
 " * Mrs. Tremlett ! ' I exclaimed ; and I fear my 
 tones were louder, and my manner scarcely so com- 
 posed, as in a sick-room they should have been. 
 ' Mrs. Tremlett — what is this ? Have you forgotten 
 that your children are almost entirely dependent 
 upon you? Have you forgotten that your son is 
 absent, but that he will soon be here to exact an 
 account of the property committed by his father to 
 your stewardship ? ' 
 
 " The words had no sooner left my lips, than I 
 regretted having uttered them, for the sick woman 
 
]86 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 was seized with so violent a fit of trembling, tliat I 
 was induced, in my great alarm, to hasten towards 
 the bell, and summon those who might be able 
 to render her assistance. Of what followed on 
 that movement I can give no distinct account, so 
 rapid and unexpected were the consequences of my 
 indiscretion. There was a sudden and a simul- 
 taneous advance towards me of the two men — that 
 I can distinctly remember — whilst from behind me 
 a thick white cloth Avas hurriedly pushed against 
 and pressed upon my face — my head swam, and my 
 eyesight became obscured — the last circumstance 
 which I can recollect being a sharp pain along my 
 right arm, after which all was a blank." 
 
 '' How strange," I exclaimed. " It hardly seems 
 credible that such things could happen in a civilised 
 country, and in the nineteenth century, when won- 
 ders are supposed to have ceased." 
 
 " Supposed^ indeed ! " said Fairholme, with a 
 melancholy smile ; " for, in my opinion, the very 
 contrary is the case; since horrors and acts of 
 treachery have grown so common, that they cease 
 to excite the wonder which, in former days, would 
 have followed on such acts. Of the events imme- 
 diately following, and of all that passed during a 
 serious illness consequent on my useless inter- 
 
THREATS. 187 
 
 ference in the cause of Mrs. Tremlett's children, I 
 can of course only speak from hearsay. When I 
 recovered from a brain fever — which had been, so 
 the doctors said, the result of concussion of the 
 brain occasioned by a fall — I found myself in one 
 of the Westfield bedrooms, and, as you may imagine, 
 well and kindly cared for. My first visitor was 
 Oswald Tremlett, dressed in deep mourning ; and the 
 earliest news I heard was, that Mrs. Tremlett was 
 dead, and that the estate of Westfield had passed 
 into the hands of Cyril Vernon, to whom the in- 
 fatuated woman had bequeathed that, as well as 
 every farthing of her personal property." 
 
 "Then what has Tremlett to exist upon?" I 
 demanded, after I had expressed some of the regret 
 and astonishment with which this announcement 
 filled me. 
 
 " Only a small property of the value of a few 
 hundreds a year, which a relation of his father's had 
 left to him. And you may imagine his just and 
 bitter anger against those who had defrauded him 
 of his birthright. His intention was from the first 
 to institute law proceedings against both 'Donovan 
 and my cousin, and it is only by my entreaties that 
 a short delay in the carrying out of this project has 
 been obtained. To me the exposure of that weak, 
 
U TTT'Tl^Tl#TXTr. T,Tr.TA '» 
 
 ]88 THE CRUISE OF THE '' HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 infatuated young man would be most painful ; and 
 I cannot abandon a hope that by other means than 
 a law-suit, reparation may be made. It is in the 
 furtherance of this object that I am here, for I had 
 at one time traced Father 'Donovan and his com- 
 panion to Ireland ; and my object is, as I think I 
 need not tell you, to procure an interview with Cyril 
 Vernon." 
 
 " And do you still consider it likely that he may 
 be in one of the Convents in this country?" 
 
 "I do ; although Oswald still persists in a belief 
 that both the priest and young Vernon are in Ame- 
 rica — in a Convent in Baltimore. So assured is he, 
 from information he has received, of this fact, that 
 he will hear of nothing but my crossing the Atlantic, 
 and pursuing the search in that direction; and it 
 will only be by complying with this desire, that I 
 shall obtain a further delay of the exposure which I 
 dread." 
 
 "I see now," I said, after a short and painful 
 pause, "the reason for your long stay in this 
 country, and also the cause of your wife's melan- 
 choly when she spoke of journeys westward." 
 
 " Yes ; she dreads the voyage, and feels for me — 
 poor thing — more, far more than I deserve, for 
 there is selfishness at the root of all my exertions ; 
 
DEENISH ISLAND. 189 
 
 though she, woman like, refuses to see the base 
 alloy." 
 
 " But there was no alloy," I rejoined, hastily, " in 
 the disinterestedness with which you gave up your 
 wife's promised dower — no alloy in " 
 
 " I could not have married Bertha then and there 
 without such a display of magnanimity^' broke in 
 Edward, " so that instance of heroism may count for 
 nothing. And now, as we are within a furlong or 
 two of Deenish Island, I may as well * knock off ' 
 my long story, and we will see how Bertha has been 
 amusing herself during what she must have thought 
 its endless and tedious length." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 DEENISH ISLAND — PHILIP GASCOIGNE's VIEW OF 
 IRISH AFFAIRS. 
 
 It would be impossible to imagine a lovelier 
 scene than was presented to our view on landing 
 on the island purchased by Philip Gascoigne for a 
 fabulously small sum ; and which contained, with 
 the exception of a few cabins, only the one 
 tolerably comfortable shooting lodge erected by 
 the owner of the small domain for his especial 
 use. 
 
 He was standing on a rock, half grey and half 
 heather-covered, which stood in the centre of the 
 island; and was watching through his glass the 
 manoeuvres of the cutter as she slackened sail pre- 
 paratory to the lowering of the boat. It was only 
 on one side of the shore that we could effect a 
 landing, as almost in every direction the heavy 
 ground-swell of the restless Atlantic was rolling in 
 upon the low rocks girdling our friend's dominions. 
 
bachelor's quarters. 191 
 
 and rendering the approach of the boat dangerous 
 to itself and those within it. 
 
 " How glad I am to see you ! — how good of you 
 to come!" shouted the sun-burnt ex-dragoon, 
 through the long fair beard which blew about his 
 face. And then we all scrambled up the rocks — 
 Bertha aided by his strong arm — and were con- 
 ducted along the short slippery turf to the lodge. 
 
 Very small it was — quite the abode of a single 
 man who cared little for creature comforts — but 
 our welcome was indeed a hearty one, and the 
 simple fare, cooked by a bare-legged peasant- 
 woman, was seasoned by the pleasant and intel- 
 lectual conversation of our host. For Philip had 
 always been a thoughtful, earnest man, and the 
 great misfortune of his life had given a fresh 
 impetus to a nature ever open to serious im- 
 pressions, and to a heart filled to overflowing 
 with a desire in some way, yet undiscovered, to 
 benefit his fellow-sufferers in a world where hap- 
 piness is the exception rather than the rule. In 
 the evening, and whilst smoking our pipes in 
 indolent contentment, the conversation naturally 
 turned upon the character and habits of the people 
 with whom our host had for so many months been 
 sojourning. 
 
192 THE CRUISE OP THE " HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 " They are certainly very pleasant fellows to have 
 to do with," said Philip, " and there is some reality 
 in their expressed good feelings towards me, since 
 my mother had the signal honour of being an 
 O'Shaughnessy ; but as a rule, they hate the 
 English, although they generally bestow upon the 
 Saxons, whether visitors or settlers, a more than 
 usual amount of agreeably-sounding blarney, ^^ 
 
 " I wish one could trust them," said Edward, 
 "for there are traits in their national character 
 which one cannot but admire, as, for instance, their 
 almost superhuman patience and good spirits under 
 trials and privations : and (in the total absence of 
 hope for the future) the apparent facility with which 
 they call up a laugh amidst the misery of the 
 present." 
 
 " But," rejoined Gascoigne, whose countenance 
 had grown very serious whilst Edward touched so 
 feelingly on the patience of the Irish people — " but 
 have you never noticed that the cheerfulness which 
 we all admire, is almost always in words only, and 
 that often when the tongue is uttering the humorous 
 words that call a smile to the stranger's lip, the 
 heart that utters them is full of bitterness ? See the 
 woe and careworn look upon the pale faces of the 
 working men ; look at the toiling women — young 
 
NATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS. 193 
 
 still in years, but with wrinkled brows and unjoyous 
 countenances — old before their time ! The very 
 children, too, are not as other children, but bear 
 betimes their part in the daily struggle against 
 privation, * rough weather,' and anticipated pau- 
 perism ! " 
 
 " It is a sad picture," said I, " and one that the 
 people might have * sat for,' I fancy, any time for 
 centuries past. And the world believes (for have 
 not writers worthy of credit said the same thing 
 scores of times?) that Ireland has but herself to 
 blame for her faults and her misfortunes! Read 
 Spenser in the olden days — ^glance over the pages 
 of Froude in these our times, and you will find in 
 different words the same opinion, namely — that 
 there is nothing to be done for Ireland because of 
 the hopelessly bad characteristics that mark the 
 inhabitants of the country." 
 
 "Like the London Club," laughed Philip, "which 
 was described as a remarkably good one, with the 
 exception of its members, who were all bad. But," 
 added he, " it always strikes me as a wonderful 
 fact, that being as it is a province of England, 
 Ireland should never have become (so to speak) 
 English. Only one idea (a very contrary one to 
 that of amalgamating it with herself in one great 
 
194 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 country) has ever seemed to occur as possible with 
 regard to this ill-fated land, and that idea is neither 
 more nor less than extermination. It was a thought 
 that suggested itself to *many furious spirits' more 
 than two centuries ago, when Hhey wished that 
 Ireland would rebel again, and that all might be put 
 to the sword ; ' nor was the idea therefore a novel 
 one that was mooted in our own days by a great and 
 mighty General, who, forgetting that Erin was the 
 land of his birth, and that it was partly through 
 the bravery of her sons that his victories had been 
 gained, expressed his deliberate opinion that the 
 only thing to be done for Ireland was to sink 
 her bodily for awhile beneath the billows of the 
 Atlantic." 
 
 " An expeditious and summary method of saving 
 much trouble, expense, and responsibility on her 
 account," rejoined Edward. " It can, I think, 
 scarcely be doubted that, in the early days of 
 Ireland's subjection (fairly conquered she has never 
 been) a more generous and merciful policy might 
 have proved more efficacious than tyranny, in 
 civilising this singularly-constituted people. In a 
 survey^'' of Ireland, published in the olden time, 
 we find this opinion stated. I will read it aloud, 
 
 * The Political Anatomy of Ireland, in the reign of Charles II. 
 
THE OLDEN TIME. 195 
 
 for I have the little book by me, and you will judge 
 for yourselves whether or not the opinion is one 
 worthy of consideration. 
 
 " * If Henry II. had, or could have, brought over 
 all the people of Ireland into England, declining the 
 benefit of their land, he had fortified, beautified, 
 and enriched England, and done real kindness to 
 the Irish. But the same work is near four times as 
 hard to be done now as then ; but it might be done 
 now to the advantage of both parties. Whereas 
 there are now 300,000 British, and 800,000 Papists, 
 whereof 600,000 live in a brutish, nasty condition, as 
 in cabins with neither chimney, stairs, nor windows : 
 if an exchange was made of but 200,000 Irish, and 
 the like manner of British brought over in their 
 room, then the natural strength of the British would 
 be equal to the Irish ; but their political and arti- 
 ficial strength three times as great. There are 
 among the 600,000 above-mentioned of the poor 
 Irish, not above 20,000 of unmarried marriageable 
 women, nor would above 2000 per annum grow and 
 become such. Wherefore, if one-half of the said 
 women were in one year, and the other half the 
 next, transported into England, and disposed one to 
 each parish, and as many English brought back and 
 married to the Irish as would improve their dwelling 
 
 o 2 
 
196 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 but to an house and garden of three pounds value, 
 the whole work of natural transmutation and union 
 would have been effected.' " ^ 
 
 Philip laughed heartily, as Fairholme concluded 
 his quotation. 
 
 " I don't know," he said, " what the amiable 
 author means by ' natural transmutation,' for it 
 seems to me rather a breaking-up of natural ties to 
 carry off young women from their parents and 
 friends, and possibly from their * followers,' without, I 
 conclude, paying them the compliment of asking their 
 consent." 
 
 " It would have been a violent measure, undoubt- 
 edly, but you must remember that the times were 
 lawless times, and that the arm of the reigning 
 English monarch was both strong and long-reach- 
 ing. We must recollect also that in this reign, and 
 even so late as that of Henry VIII., the Irish * were 
 accounted aliens, foreigners, and also enemies, whom 
 if an Englishman had then killed, he had suffered 
 nothing for it.' " 
 
 " A dreadful policy truly it was," I remarked, 
 " and a short-sighted one ; nor can I help agreeing 
 with the author whose opinion you have cited, that the 
 amalgamation of the Celtic and Saxon races would 
 have been everything in favour of improvement." 
 
NO past! 197 
 
 "Yes," rejoined Fairholme, "for not only might 
 there have resulted a happy modification of some 
 Celtic characteristics, but a certain amount of com- 
 munity of interests must perforce have followed. 
 Whereas, the Irish peasantry, especially in Con- 
 naught, remain unchanged and unimproved since 
 the dark days of the early Henrys ; while from the 
 constant intermarriages, they form, in this part of 
 the country at least, one large family, hanging 
 closely together for good or for evil with the affec- 
 tionate pertinacity for which those of their nation 
 have ever been remarkable." 
 
 " And," said I, "if there be a pitiable spectacle 
 (on a large scale) upon earth, it is that of a country 
 like this, which in the nineteenth century has never 
 had its day. For the Irish have no past to be proud 
 of. No grand old history to remind mankind that 
 they were once a nation whose name resounded 
 through the world ! Her present is a bye-word, 
 and her future is wrapped in gloom. Her gallant 
 soldiers have fought but in the ranks of her con- 
 querors ; and her orators, her poets, and her men of 
 learning, merged in the history of her mighty neigh- 
 bour, shed no honour on the country which gave 
 them birth ! " 
 
 " Some of those you allude to," suggested Philip, 
 
" have been also sadly wanting in filial respect ; but, 
 en revanche, one of Ireland's eloquent sons was 
 found ready at the call to expend some of bis most 
 brilliant oratory on the wrongs of his ill-used 
 country: nor can we forget that it was one of 
 Erin's own music-loving children whose tender 
 strains have touched our English hearts so often ; 
 and that, not only when 
 
 * He spoke, as flowers could sing and speak, 
 If Love could lend their leaves a tongue,' 
 
 but in his more serious moods, and when tuning his 
 harp to solemn strains, he mourned for his hapless 
 fatherland — 
 
 * Thinking how man had curst 
 What Heaven had made so glorious ! ' 
 
 " And, making all due allowance for poetical ex- 
 aggeration, the country which we have so often heard 
 quoted as meant to he * great, glorious, and free,' is 
 one on which Nature has indeed bestowed many an 
 advantage. But," continued Edward, "we cannot 
 but acknowledge that her good gifts have in this 
 instance been sadly thrown away. The geogra- 
 phical position of Ireland is admirable, the harbours 
 safe and numerous, and the protection (if needed) of 
 a powerful country is close at hand. Why is it, 
 then, that whilst we see prosperity, happiness, and 
 
FALLACIES OF THE SANGUINE. 199 
 
 internal serenity enjoyed by countries in Europe 
 not half, or indeed not one quarter, of Ireland's 
 dimensions — she^ a portion of England, should 
 remain still poor, and miserable, and a mark for 
 public reprobation? We see little inland German 
 dukedoms enjoying their small respectability, and 
 forming alliances even with our own princesses ; 
 while Ireland, which, from her position, her size, and 
 her manifest advantages, might add to our greatness, 
 is instead only a thorn in our side, and a blot on 
 our good name ! " 
 
 " And yet," I remarked, " how much do we hear 
 of the march of improvement, and of the increased 
 prosperity of this island ! I suspect, however, that 
 such eulogiums generally occur after an unusual 
 interval has elapsed between agrarian outrages, or 
 when favourable reports have chanced to come from 
 a particular district in which the flight of the abori- 
 gines before the advance of civilisation has been 
 more than usually rapid." 
 
 " Your conjecture maybe in some degree correct," 
 said Edward ; " nor can there, I imagine, be a doubt, 
 that in some parts of the country a marked improve- 
 ment (attributable, however, in a great measure to 
 very extensive emigration) has taken place." 
 
 " And the English have certainly fewer to hate^'' 
 
200 THE CRUISE OF THE '' HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 broke in Gascoigne, abruptly. " For that they do 
 hate (collectively) the Irish people, is a fact of 
 which I am certain. They may profess to like the 
 * pleasant people to do with,' by whose buffoonery 
 they are amused ; but if you take notice of all that 
 they say concerning their Celtic brethren, you will 
 find an immense proportion of contemptuous abuse 
 mixed up with their encomiums. * They all Ue^ from 
 the highest to the lowest.' * They are all ungrateful,' 
 and * the poor are all thieves.' Can any one deny that 
 these are the remarks we constantly hear made when- 
 ever the Irish character comes under discussion ? " 
 
 " I am far from intending to deny what you 
 have advanced," replied Edward ; " but let us 
 examine into the reasons for the facts you have 
 stated. In the first place — ^Why do the English 
 dislike the people of this country ? I maintain that 
 it is almost purely a matter of religion. There is no 
 hatred so strong as a religious hatred ; and when we 
 can trace in the conduct of our Christian brethren a 
 particular objection to the Irish (who in their desire 
 for employment might possibly * apply for work' at 
 their hands), it is fair to conclude that for * Irish ' 
 we might safely read ^Papist.'' It is painful to 
 notice in the conduct, even of those by whom an 
 example of the highest Christian charity should 
 
ENGLISH CHARITY. 201 
 
 he set, the total absence (in its noblest and 
 holiest sense) of the feeling required. It is a fact, 
 but too well known in this country, that in the 
 dreadful famine year, and when the accounts of 
 disease and death amongst the doomed people 
 moved the hardest hearts to pity, one Enghsh Pro- 
 testant clergyman, obeying, as he said, the orders 
 of his archbishop, addressed his congregation in 
 favour of the starving Irish people, but at the same 
 time he advised them to give * grudgingly,' even as 
 he and his curate were prepared to give * grudgingly,' 
 the one * five shillings,' and the other * half a crown! ' 
 Another clergyman, at the same trying period, said 
 that he would of course preach his charity sermon 
 in favour of the Irish, but that he would take 
 occasion to record in it all that he had ever heard 
 against that * wicked and ungrateful people.' Another 
 is known to have said as follows : ' I own that, 
 instead of feeling any commiseration for, or any 
 disposition to assist, the people of Ireland, I would 
 rather help them to another Cromwell, who might 
 rule them in the only way they deserve to be ruled, 
 viz., with a rod of iron.' " 
 
 " Let us hope," remarked Gascoigne, " that the 
 reverend gentlemen had never perused the writings 
 of Lord Clarendon, for in them the sufferings of the 
 
202 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 Irish, at the hands of the Puritans, are recorded, if 
 I recollect right, as awful — ' surpassing even those 
 of the Jews in their destruction by Titus. The first 
 act of Cromwell was, I believe, to collect all the 
 native Irish who had survived destruction and 
 remained in the country, and to transplant them into 
 the province of Connaught, which had been com- 
 pletely depopulated and laid waste during the 
 progress of the rebeUion. They were ordered to 
 retire there by a certain day, and forbidden to repass 
 the river Shannon on pain of death : and this 
 sentence of deportation was rigidly enforced till the 
 Restoration. Their ancient possessions were seized 
 and given up to the conquerors, as was the pro- 
 perty of every man who had taken a part in the 
 rebeUion or followed the fortunes of the king after 
 the murder of Charles the First; and this whole 
 fund was distributed amongst the officers and soldiers 
 of Cromwell's army in satisfaction of the arrears of 
 their pay ; and to the adventurers who had advanced 
 money to defray the expenses of the war.'*' It was 
 a * bad lot ' undoubtedly, that not only invaded and 
 overran the country, but also who eventually settled 
 in it ; and as it was in the crime-stained county of 
 Tipperary that, it is believed, the greatest portion 
 
 * Description of Lord Claxe. 
 
ENGLISH CHARITY. 203 
 
 of tlie di'egs of CromweU's army established tliem- 
 selves, it may be supposed that to the admixture of 
 their unworthy blood, their peculiar tendency to 
 homicidal deeds may (if it really exists) be partly 
 accounted for." 
 
 " But," said I, " granted that among those who 
 should have been most forward in assisting the Irish 
 sufferers, many were worse than backward, grudging 
 them the offerings that they would have so gladly 
 called for had the perishmg ones been any other 
 than Irish Papists^ surely we should pay some 
 tribute to the noble Christian hearts who gave so 
 munificently, not only of their abundance, but of the 
 little they could call their own." 
 
 " True ; and all honour to them and to their 
 liberal British instincts," said Edward, energetically. 
 " All honour to the charity of individuals who, in a 
 great national calamity, forget their antipathy when 
 the wail of starvation reached their ears ! And do 
 not believe it when you hear that the Irish were 
 either then or now ungrateful foi; benefits received. 
 It is hard to maintain ever warm in the heart a 
 sensation of gratitude when the cabin is cold and 
 damp, when the food is very scarce, and when stern 
 necessity has compelled the sale of the one ' small 
 Httle cow,' on their possession of which depended 
 
204 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 the * sup o' milk ' for the famished and hungry 
 children. No ; the very existence of any glowing 
 sentiment is impossible under such circumstances, 
 and that it should burst forth momentarily (which 
 it never fails to do after a suddenly-received benefit) 
 is all that we have a right to expect." 
 
 " Gascoigne has forgotten, I^ think," said I, after 
 a short pause in the conversation, " one of the worst 
 accusations against the Irish, namely, their mur- 
 derous propensities, and their fostering of criminals. 
 For the first, I cannot but think 4:hat they are 
 unjustly accused ; and for the latter " 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said Gascoigne, interrupting 
 me ; " but I really cannot think that they are un- 
 justly accused, for I consider a recourse to personal 
 violence to be (as is the case with all savage and 
 untrained people) one of the characteristics of the 
 Irish nation; but it is only by the comparison of 
 their homicidal crimes with those committed in other 
 countries (and in England especially), that the de- 
 gree of guilt existing here can be properly and justly 
 estimated by English people. Judged after that 
 manner, and if we can believe the several statistics 
 of crime in this and other lands, it does not appear 
 that the Irish character for bloodthirstiness should 
 be so super-eminent." 
 
COMPAEATIVE CRIMINALITY. 205 
 
 " I have heard," I said, " that murders in England 
 are in the proportion of eleven to one in Ireland. 
 I mean, of course, amongst an equal number of the 
 population." 
 
 " And our murders," said Edward, " are, in my 
 opinion, crimes of such infinitely deeper dye ! 
 Slaughtered infants, tortured women, poisoned hus- 
 bands and wives ! Whilst here — but we will not 
 now touch upon the landlord and tenant question, 
 for it is growing late, and Gascoigne will think that 
 we have invaded his solitude, to talk of nothing 
 more amusing than agrarian crimes and Riband 
 outrages." 
 
 So, somewhat wearied by the day's exertions, we 
 retired to our narrow beds, in which we were soon 
 lulled to slumber by the monotonous murmur of the 
 waves as they foamed on the rocks beneath the 
 latticed windows of our rooms. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 GERVASE MACNAMARA's STORY. 
 
 There was a rough week, as far as regarded the 
 weather, after our arrival at the island, for the 
 Equinox set in a fortnight before its time, and for 
 three days, such a south-west gale blew out of the 
 heavens, accompanied by almost incessant torrents 
 of rain, as for strength and durability I had never 
 witnessed before. 
 
 On the afternoon of the second day there was a 
 delusive breaking of the thick cloud-like vapours 
 that hung over every object on the earth and in the 
 sky, and to our infinite satisfaction we caught a 
 momentary glimpse of the mountains on the main- 
 land. 
 
 " Look ! " said Gascoigne, as he handed me a 
 large telescope. "Do you see that cleft, black 
 and hollow, with two unequally tall, and almost 
 perpendicular acclivities, rising on either side 
 of it?'* 
 
GERVASE MACNAMARAS STORY. 207 
 
 " I do distinctly, and a small white object at the 
 base of the hollow." 
 
 " That object is a house," continued our host ; 
 " and in it lives the best of landlords and good fel- 
 lows, and my only neighbour." 
 
 " It must be charming in summer," said Bertha, 
 who had been examining the site of the desolate 
 mountain residence. " But you do not mean that 
 any human being lives there always ? " 
 
 *' Macnamara does, or nearly so," replied Philip. 
 " He thinks it his duty as a landlord, and of one 
 whose responsibilities as such are very great, to 
 sacrifice his personal comfort, and that of as good a 
 wife as ever lived, in order that he may live amongst 
 his tenantry. It is a sacrifice of course, but as he 
 says, he does not think himself justified in leaving his 
 tenants to the tender mercies of a bailiff, who would 
 probably mislead him as to their real condition. 
 He has been very liberal to them this year, knowing 
 how great is the universal distress, and has abated 
 considerably his claim to rent in the case of well- 
 conducted and hidustrious tenants. In other instances 
 he has not ejected summarily those unable to pay — 
 knowing that they would become a general burthen 
 to the poor rate-payers — but has denied himself 
 and his wife many a luxury, and above all, the gi'eat 
 
208 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 one of change and society, in order to assist the 
 starving creatures (lying, as too many of the 
 country people now do, upon straw, and feeding 
 upon half rations) with the wherewithal to emigrate 
 to a more prosperous land. But," continued Philip, 
 "if Mrs. Fairholme is * agreeable,' I will tell you 
 an anecdote of Macnamara's early life (he was a 
 wild and careless young fellow then) ; and how, ten 
 years ago, he won the wife, who has since been in 
 these wild solitudes so invaluable a helpmate. 
 
 " The estate of Cuiltra had been for generations 
 back the property of Gervase Macnamara's family. 
 It was not a very profitable possession, for the pro- 
 portion of rock and moorland was considerable, but 
 Gervase, as I have just said, has done his best to 
 improve the land as well as the condition, both 
 moral and physical, of his tenantry. The last owner 
 of Cuiltra left behind him a widow and two sons, to 
 say nothing of an unmarried daughter, who also 
 plays a part in the following history. The sons 
 were intelligent and well-looking young men, es- 
 pecially the eldest, and both were bent upon pur- 
 suing some profession in the busy world, and leaving 
 their mountain home with its prospects of ill-paid 
 rents, its view of the Atlantic Ocean, and its desolate 
 moorland, to the care of the mother and her bailiff. 
 
GERVASE MACNAMARA's STORY. 209 
 
 " In pursuance of this resolve, Gervase obtained 
 a commission in an infantry regiment, and Peter, 
 the younger brother, became in process of time 
 junior partner in a respectable and thriving medical 
 *' house ' in Dublin. It chanced that when Gervase 
 had just purchased his commission, his regiment w^as 
 ordered to the Irish capital, and that then and there 
 he met with the young lady who is now the sharer 
 of that pretty house among the hills, the which 
 abode, when you make a better acquaintance with 
 its merits and situation, will I hope attract a large 
 share of your admiration. 
 
 " Miss Flora Johnstone was the niece and adopted 
 daughter of an old English bachelor, who had retired 
 into private life upon the fortune of twenty thousand 
 pounds, made in a successful mercantile career. Her 
 mother was an Irishwoman, and at the time when 
 Gervase became acquainted with her, she and old 
 Johnstone were visiting some relations who lived in 
 the neighbourhood of Dublin. Flora was pretty, and 
 light both of heart and heels, a little inclined to be 
 *fast,' but a very good little girl withal, and the way 
 that with all her heart she enjoyed the Lord Lieuten- 
 ant's balls and receptions and her flirtations with the 
 officers and the aides-de-camp, was a pleasure to be- 
 hold. I shall spare you and myself the description of 
 
210 THE CRUISE OF THE *' HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 the rise and progress of the more serious affair with 
 Gervase Macnamara, which ere long lent a graver 
 look to her bright grey eyes, and sent them with a 
 wandering glance around, whenever the handsome 
 Irish captain was by chance absent from her side. 
 Now, the fair Flora, besides that she was tolerably 
 rich in personal attractions, was known to be 
 extremely so (in prospect at least) in worldly pos- 
 sessions ; and this, strange as it may seem, appeared 
 in the eyes of the romantic Gervase to be the only 
 drawback to his promised, or at least hoped-for, 
 happiness. For had he not a snug little property of 
 his own which brought him in a clear six hundred 
 pounds a-year? and, besides, had not the Macna- 
 maras once been kings, and could it be supposed 
 that a descendant of a royal race would stoop to 
 seek the money-bags of a Saxon ? 
 
 " There was doubtless something very grand and 
 imposing in this independence of feeling, but unfor- 
 tunately the whole structure gave way before the 
 artillery of Flora's grey eyes, and Captain Macna- 
 mara and his pride surrendered at discretion. Then^ 
 however, and not till then, came the real tug of war, 
 for Uncle Jacob Johnstone, when he was appealed 
 to, refused his consent in terms which scarcely per- 
 mitted even of a remonstrance, and the unfortunate 
 
GERVASE MACNAMARA's STORY. 211 
 
 descendant of the kings was left to mourn in secret 
 over his disappointment, and to devise measures for 
 circumventing the * old rufi&an's ' (as he disrespect- 
 fully called him) uncivil and unlooked-for treatment 
 of his proposals. 
 
 " Now the only relation, to the best of his know- 
 ledge, that yet remained to Uncle Jacob, was his 
 niece Flora, his dead brother's child ; and on that 
 bright, laughter-loving httle girl the old man literally 
 doated. She loved the retired, and now often ailing 
 city merchant, dearly too. In sickness she nursed 
 him with the devoted tenderness of a child, and in 
 health she amused him with her jokes and merry 
 laughter, and cheered him with the long-forgotten 
 English ballads that he loved to hear. But such a 
 tenderness as Flora nourished in her heart for Uncle 
 Jacob was not enough to fill that deep repository of 
 a youthful maiden's inmost feelings ; and there came 
 a time when Nature, which, as we all know, hates 
 a vacuum, spoke appealingly from out the empty 
 recesses of httle Flora's breast, and spoke, unfor- 
 tunately, in favour of a man who, in Uncle Jacob's 
 eyes, possessed every disadvantage as his niece's 
 suitor which an unhappy lover could be cursed with. 
 
 " * My dear,' said Uncle Jacob to his adopted 
 
 daughter, as she sat before him, with a face half 
 
 p 2 
 
212 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 tearful, and half — ay, rather more than half — defiant 
 of his control; *my dear, I won't hear of that 
 jackanapes ' (jackanapes was the word for ^ swell ' 
 in Uncle Jacob's day), ' I won't hear of him for you. 
 I hate a soldier, and I hate an Irishman worse even 
 than I do a lord. They'diu^i treat you as if they'd 
 done you an honour in taking you into the family — 
 spend your cash, and trample on you. I know 'em, 
 don't you be afraid.* 
 
 " * But, Uncle Jacob, Captain Macnamara " 
 
 *' * Yes, I know — the Captain's well enough to 
 look at, and he's mighty civil, and all that sort o' 
 thing now; but I'm not to be caught that way. 
 I'm an old bird, my dear — sharp as — as — an old 
 raven, and can see as far into a millstone. No, no, 
 I say — ^no soldiers for me. When you bring me a 
 stout, healthy young fellow — not with a thin face 
 and hollow cheeks, along with sitting up o' nights, 
 and with dead eyes that he thinks look killing — 
 but a stout healthy young fellow who has made his 
 own money, whether in town or country — I won't 
 say no to him. He shall have you, my girl, and a 
 pretty penny with you, that I promise him. So 
 cheer up, my lassie, and forget the officer's big- 
 whiskers. Why, he is but a lath of a man, after all ; ' 
 and with this reflection on the elegant attenuation 
 
GERVASE MACNAMARA's STORT. 213 
 
 of Captain Macnamara's figure, Uncle Jacob kissed 
 his niece's cheek, and — for he came (according to hig 
 would-be nephew's phraseology) under the denomi- 
 nation of a ' stout party' — waddled from the room in 
 which this decided opinion had been expressed. 
 • "As may be supposed, the young lady in love 
 left no means untried to soften the heart of her 
 obdurate old relation. She attempted ' soft-sawder,' 
 in the shape of kisses and caresses, that would have 
 effected their object with any man on earth save 
 the one, the better half of whose affections were 
 centred in the money he had made ; and, failing this 
 mode of subjugation, she tried \^diat menaces, in the 
 shape of as long a visage as she could stretch her 
 pretty facial line to, and as strict a silence as she 
 could persuade herself to undergo, were able to 
 effect. All her measures^ however, to attain the 
 desired end proved unavailing, and this melancholy 
 fact having been communicated by letter to the 
 anxious lover, some steps of a far more energetic 
 character were decided upon between the pair. 
 
 " * Me darling,' the lover was saying, one soft 
 summer afternoon, beneath a spreading thorn-tree 
 in the Phoenix Park, ' me darling, I wouldn't ask it 
 of you, only I can't think of any other way at all. 
 It isn't there they'll be looking for you ; and sure 
 
214 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 the uncle wouldn't be expecting you till he saw 
 you at all.' 
 
 " ' But, Gervase,' half remonstrated Flora, whose 
 two little hands were held tightly in the Irishman's 
 strong grasp, * it does seem such a wild, horrid, odd 
 thing to do ! ' 
 
 " * Ah, now, but isn't it the only chance to make 
 us happy ? ' sighed the soldier ; ' and isn't it just the 
 other way from where they'd be looking for us ? 
 For sure, me darling, no one in their senses would 
 go to a lunatic asylum till they were forced to ! ' 
 
 *' ' Oh, it isn't that I mind, dear,' said Flora ; * it 
 isn't that at all. But I shall hate to be alone ; and 
 then I'm so awfully afraid of laughing. I know I 
 shall betray myself when I'm playing the trick ; ' 
 and the merry girl's musical laugh rang out, as she 
 showed her pearly teeth to her admiring lover. 
 
 " * And how about Uncle Jacob ? ' asked the 
 latter, after a pause. 
 
 ** ' Oh, I'm not the least bit afraid of him. When 
 once we're married, he'll be so fond of you — as fond 
 as he is of me. You don't know Uncle Jacob. 
 He'll be angry just at first ; and, indeed, I do wish 
 we could be married with his leave, for he is so dear 
 and kind ; but I can coax him into being all right 
 again. Oh, no, you needn't be the least afraid of 
 
GERVASE MACNAMARA'S STORY. 215 
 
 Uncle Jacob ! But tell me, Gervase, are you quite 
 sure they'll take me in ? ' 
 
 "*0h, yes. There's me brother will give the 
 certificate ; and besides, they know me well, for I 
 went there once with a poor young brother officer of 
 mine. A boy, just fancy that, who had delirium 
 tremens at nineteen, and broke his mother's heart — 
 he was an only son — ^before he was of age ! ' 
 
 " * How very horrid ! And we're to go to-morrow ! 
 Gervase, it rather frightens me now that it has come 
 so near. Not that Uncle Jacob will ever break his 
 heart for me ; and if he should cut me off with a 
 shilling, why I must be a real soldier's wife, and sit 
 upon a baggage-train, that's all.' 
 
 " The alternative thus rather confusedly expressed 
 by the romantic Flora, did not certainly appear in a 
 very fascinating light to the more matter-of-fact 
 soldier ; but he also had confidence in the young 
 lady's hold upon her uncle's affections, and therefore 
 made no sign of hesitation or going back. His hand 
 was on the plough by which the aged merchant's 
 hard-earned guineas were to be unearthed ; and there 
 was now, he felt, no better plan for them than the 
 one he had proposed to Flora, and to which she 
 had rather reluctantly consented. 
 
 " On the following afternoon, when Uncle Jacob 
 
216 THE CRUISE OF THE '' HUMMTNG BIRD." 
 
 returned from the Phoenix, and inquired for his 
 niece, the young lady was reported missing. As 
 * goods ' of his, her place was empty ; and ' in stock ' 
 the merchant had no longer a pretty girl to boast of, 
 or a nice ornamental * article ' to adorn his table, and 
 throw brightness on his lonely home. Of course, he 
 at once suspected the captain of being at the bottom 
 of this heavy misfortune : but how to prove it ? — 
 how, indeed, even to get at the man whom he sus- 
 pected of having stolen from him his best treasure ? — 
 for Captain Macnamara was neither with his regiment 
 nor at his home, and it was doubtful whether he even 
 received the letters, in which the irate old gentleman 
 poured abuse upon his head, and swore that the 
 ungrateful girl should (for any aid that he might 
 give her) be a pauper all her days. 
 
 " Meanwhile, the object of all this vituperation 
 had arrived, on the very evening of the day when 
 Uncle Jacob first found out his loss, at the house in 
 which, for one long fortnight, she was to remain in 
 a state of almost entire separation from the lover of 
 her choice. 
 
 " It was at a large brick building situated m 
 extensive grounds, and called by courtesy a Fark^ 
 that the carriage contaming the runaway lovers 
 drew up. 
 
GERVASE MACNAMARA's STORY. 217 
 
 " * Now remember, dearest,' whispered Gervase, 
 tenderly, ^ that you need show but one symptom of 
 insanity, namely, that of destructiveness. I men- 
 tioned this to Dr. Glegg, who will, of course, have 
 taken precautions to prevent any injury to his furni- 
 ture, and also to my precious little " sister," ' he 
 added tenderly, as, with a faint attempt at facetious- 
 ness, he di'ew her towards him, and snatched a last 
 kiss, prior to the opening of the door. 
 
 " Flora's heart beat a little faster, as, taking her 
 lover's arm, she followed the servant into the re- 
 ception room. There was something ominous in 
 the almost solemn stillness of the house, something 
 worse than prison-like in the iron bars which 
 stretched across the windows, and something that 
 told of miseries far worse than either death or sick- 
 ness in the cold searching eye, and still colder 
 manner, of the grave man who met them in that 
 cheerless parlour. 
 
 " * My sister, Dr. Glegg,' spoke out the captain, 
 gently but firmly disengaging himself from Miss 
 Johnstone's clinging arm, * my sister, whose visit you 
 have been kind enough to accept of. A short one I 
 trust it will be, for I would not trespass on your 
 kindness, and we are all anxious to have her again 
 amongst us.' 
 
218 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 " ' Of course — of course/ said the doctor, fixing 
 his strange, glittering eyes on Flora's face. ' I 
 have no doubt we shall do admirably — really ad- 
 mirably. How old are you. Miss Macnamara ? ' 
 
 " ' Eighteen,' answered the girl, with a smile at 
 the abruptness of the question. 
 
 " * Health good ? — general health, I mean.' 
 
 " ' Yes, thank you.' 
 
 " * No headaches ? Accustomed to a shower- 
 bath ? Like it cold ? ' 
 
 " But at this juncture Flora's strong inclination to 
 laugh became so apparent, that Gervase hastened to 
 interpose. 
 
 " ' You will judge better of her state in a few 
 days,' he said ; * in the meantime I will take my 
 leave, and Nellie, dear,' he continued, turning to the 
 girl, whose merriment was now effectually checked, 
 ' Nellie, my dear sister, remember your promise, and 
 let us have no mischief done. You are not at home, 
 you know, and Dr. Glegg is pai'ticular — very par- 
 ticular — as I have already told you.' 
 
 "They were his last words to his betrothed, 
 whose face had grown rather pale as she listened to 
 them, and whose grey eyes were full of tears as the 
 door closed upon his retreating figure. 
 
 " * And now, suppose we go to our room, my 
 
GERVASE MACNAMARA's STORY. 219 
 
 dear,' suggested the doctor, but the words were no 
 sooner spoken, than any further remark was pre- 
 vented by the entrance of another, and a much 
 younger and more prepossessing-looking individual. 
 
 " This was no other than Dr. Stephen Fanshaw, 
 the nephew and partner of the chief proprietor of 
 the establishment. He looked with a considerable 
 amount of curiosity, but with nothing of professional 
 rudeness, at the slight young figure, and the de- 
 cidedly intelligent countenance which he saw before 
 him, and then, after whispering a few words in his 
 uncle's ear, he waited for a reply. 
 
 " ' Not m the padded room ! Oh, no ; spoils 
 everything, from what I hear. Can't hurt bare 
 walls much, and there's not a great deal besides in 
 No. 20. Let her go to No. 20.' 
 
 " Stephen Fanshaw, who was a rather handsome 
 and very intelligent-looking man, of some thirty 
 years of age, glanced compassionately at the pretty 
 delicate girl, who stood there awaiting what seemed 
 to him her doom. 
 
 " * Is this necessary ? ' he asked. 
 
 " ' Quite. I have the brother's, the nearest rela- 
 tive's authority. Seclusion is absolutely necessary. 
 Dangerous occasionally,' he whispered to his young 
 relative, who, at that intimation, abstained from all 
 
220 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 further opposition, and, offering liis arm to Flora, 
 led her silently from the room. 
 
 " Together they ascended the broad, uncarpeted 
 staircase, and together passed — still silently — along 
 the echoing passages ; and ever and anon as they 
 passed the doors which were on either side of them, 
 the poor girl, fancying that she heard the terror- 
 striking, but muffled, cries of those bereft of God's 
 chief gift of reason,, clung still closer to her com- 
 panion, whilst her breath came short and thick. 
 
 " At last they came to No. 20. A dark, strong 
 door, with the number painted in white figures on 
 its surface, and with a key-hole of large dimensions, 
 into which the doctor inserted a corresponding key. 
 
 " ' This is your room,' he said, when he and his 
 companion found themselves within it. 
 
 " ' This ? " she murmured in reply ; and as her 
 eye took in its scanty furniture, its comfortless floor, 
 and stretcher bed, she added hopelessly, * It's very 
 wretched.* 
 
 " * Very,' responded Fanshaw ; and even as he 
 spoke, a doubt, of he knew not what description, 
 crossed his mind. * It is very wretched, and I am 
 truly sorry to leave you in such a place, but " 
 
 "Oh! do not think of that," she said, blushing, 
 and recollecting the why and wherefore she found 
 
GERVASE MACNAMARA's STORY. 221 
 
 herself in a position so peculiar. ' Only if I had 
 some books — and then will no one come to me — no 
 woman ? I am not used to wait upon myself.' 
 
 *' 'A female keep 1 mean a servant — will be 
 
 here in half-an-hour with your supper ; and as for 
 books, will you take care of them,' he added, with a 
 smile, ' if I send you some to choose from, from my 
 limited collection?' 
 
 " * Of course I will,' she answered, forgetting in 
 her gratitude the part she had to play, * and thank 
 you very much ; good-night ! ' And shaking hands 
 with him, she was left alone with her reflections. 
 He had turned the key so softly that she was in 
 ignorance of the fact that she was a prisoner till the 
 noisy opening of the door by the female attendant 
 reminded her of that unpleasant circumstance. The 
 new-comer was a strong-limbed, and rather re- 
 pulsive-looking woman, the servant, who, laying a 
 tray upon the one deal table, spread its contents 
 before the patient, and motioned her to eat. 
 
 "* Thank you, I am not hungry,' said Flora, 
 gently. ' But I feel extremely thirsty, and I don't 
 see any wine. I should like some very weak wine 
 and water, please.' 
 
 " ' Not in orders,' said the woman, curtly. 
 
 " ' Then take my compliments to Dr. Glegg, and 
 
222 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 say I give the order/ said the girl, who had a spirit 
 of her own, and who, as an heiress, had been httle 
 accustomed to have her wishes disregarded. 
 
 *' *Tut — tut,' said the woman, authoritatively, 
 * you just eat your supper, and hold your tongue. 
 We don't allow no talking here, and I've got to go 
 to No. 50 to give them their suppers too, and can't 
 be waiting here all night.' 
 
 " * Dr. Fanshaw's compliments, and has sent 
 some books,' said the voice of a man in livery ; and 
 Flora, forgetting her annoyance in her curiosity, 
 took the parcel from the servant's hand. 
 
 " It was only ^ Pickwick ! ' — only the book that has 
 cheated so many sufferers into a temporary oblivion 
 of their woes, brought smiles to the withered lip of 
 age, and kindly thoughts of slandered human nature 
 to the soured hearts of social Timons. But to the 
 hapless prisoner, the reading of those pages was 
 a new pleasure; what wonder, therefore, was it, 
 that while the daylight lasted, and before the 
 shades of night combined with the branches of the 
 old trees which swayed against the window-frames to 
 throw the gloom of night upon her chamber — what 
 wonder, I say, was it, that Flora, lonesome girl that 
 she was, should have read on delighted, till other 
 footsteps in the passage gave warning of a visitor. 
 
GERVASE MACNAMARA's STORY. 223 
 
 "Again the door was opened, and again that harsh 
 repulsive-looking woman came — ^this time with lamp 
 in hand — to order Uncle Jacob's heiress to obey her 
 will. 
 
 " * To bed ! ' she said. * No more reading here 
 to-night ! Come — you must be quick, young ladyj 
 No. 21 has got the cat in there, and she'll have had 
 the dumb thing's head off before I can look round 
 me.' 
 
 " * But I don't want to go to bed just yet.' 
 
 " * Well — that's as you like, you know. Only I 
 must take away the candle, and that fine silk 
 dress will all be rumpled if you lie about in it.' — 
 * A silk,' she muttered to herself, * as is worth 
 ten shillings a yard if it's worth a penny, and to be 
 put on the back of a lunatic — it's a waste and a 
 shame ! ' 
 
 "^I think I'll go to bed,' said the poor thing, 
 wearily. * Oh, how slow the time does go ! ' 
 
 " But if the hours rolled on languidly in the day- 
 light, and when the fire of genius cast a rosy ray 
 over the young girl's thoughts, how was it when the 
 night had come, and when a prisoner, and alone, 
 she lay upon her comfortless bed, and more than 
 half repented her of the step that she had taken ? 
 '^ At first, and whilst the sound of feet and voices 
 
224 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 in the corridor banished the conviction of her utter 
 lonehness, the girl's spirit did not fail her ; but 
 when the noises of the night were hushed, and all 
 that (for a time) she heard was the low whistling of 
 the wind as it moaned through the topmost branches 
 of the fir-trees — ^then the sense of isolation, and, 
 worse evil still, of imjpnsonment^ began to steal over 
 her senses, and it required all her courage to do 
 battle against the demons of superstitious fear that 
 hovered around her. *If I should be ill,' she said 
 to herself, * or if some one of the poor dreadful 
 creatures who are all around me should escape, 
 and find the key and come to me ! Perhaps the 
 door's only bolted ! or they might break it open ! 
 Madmen are so strong, they say, and then — — 
 Ah ! Heaven ! What's that ? Oh, what an awful 
 scream ! ' 
 
 "And the poor frightened thing, burying her 
 face in her pillow, endeavoured to shut out the 
 sounds that terrified her. And so she lay till 
 morning, and never raised her pretty head to look 
 about her till the gay August sun tinted the east 
 with crimson, and brightened her prison bars with 
 its most welcome presence. It was a haggard face 
 that little Flora looked at in the morning, when 
 stepping from her sleepless bed she contemplated 
 
GEEVASE MACNAMAEA's STOEY. 225 
 
 her altered countenance in the small mirror that 
 hung beside the window. 
 
 " * Why, Gervase would hardly know me,' was 
 her instant thought. *It is all the fault of horrid 
 21 ; but I shall look better in the afternoon when 
 Gervase comes ! Dear Gervase ! — and I to half re- 
 proach him in the night for bringing me to this 
 tiresome place ! I shall make him laugh by telling 
 him about my jfright and No. 21. I dare say, after 
 all, it was the cat — the wretched cat that No. 21 
 was throttling. Oh, what an awful noise, and what 
 a rush of water ! It reminds me though that I 
 should like a bath ! ' And tapping at the door, she 
 strove to call the housemaid's attention to her 
 requirements. At last the woman answered the 
 summons, and entered, looking very black and cross. 
 
 " * Will you bring a bath,' said Flora, * please.' 
 
 " * You'll have a douche^ if Dr. Fanshawe says so.' 
 
 "^ What is a douche?' 
 
 "Oh, you'll know soon enough, I warrant you; 
 and you'll be catching it, young lady, before long, 
 if you keep making noises at the door that way. 
 So now you dress yourself, and don't be hammering 
 again, or I shall know the reason why.' 
 
 " Flora felt very indignant at the woman's inso- 
 lence, as she termed it, and her injured pride over- 
 
226 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 coming for the moment both her prudence and her 
 love, she resolved to remain no longer in a place 
 where she was subjected to so much discomfort, and 
 to an amount of impertinence which was as new as 
 it was unendurable to her. 
 
 " * You will bring me some hot water imme- 
 diately,' she said, loftily ; * and when I am dressed, 
 you will inform Dr. Glegg that I desire to speak to 
 him.' 
 
 " ' Hoity toity ! ' said the woman. ' A pretty thing, 
 indeed! The doctors have something else to do 
 than to be running every moment to the female 
 wards. You'll have your call when the time comes, 
 and you'll have your recreations, and your meals, 
 and that's enough. So, just you dress yourself, and 
 everything'll go on like clockwork.* 
 
 "Not another word could the bitterly provoked 
 girl extract from her morose and disagreeable guar- 
 dian ; nor were matters much mended by a visit 
 from Dr. Glegg, who, in spite of all her assurances to 
 the contrary, evidently persisted in his belief that 
 she required control, and had been placed under 
 his charge by those who had a right to watch over 
 her safety. She could not bring herself to tell him 
 the real circumstances of the case, and therefore 
 there was nothing for it, but to wait with patience 
 
GERVASE MACNAMARAS STORY. 227 
 
 till tlie visit of her betrothed would, by corroborating 
 her assurances of perfect sanity, set her free from 
 her now hated prison. But the hours wore away, 
 and no lover came to cheer her spirits, or to effect 
 her longed-for liberation ; her disappointment, too, 
 was rendered the more difficult to bear, by reason 
 of the doctor's order that she should share in 
 the out-of-door recreation of the patients. It was 
 dreadful to be surrounded by those jibbering, mean- 
 ingless faces! Dreadful to be placed, when her 
 turn arrived, in the swing ^ which hung between the 
 fir-trees, and then to be swayed to and fro by a 
 harmless female lunatic, whose strength of arm ren- 
 dered her well fitted for the task she had under- 
 taken. But it was perhaps more dreadful still to 
 see those middle-aged, and even elderly women, 
 playing at their childish games, tossing about their 
 shuttlecocks, in the belief that they were babies, and 
 turning in their bewildered minds a string of daisies 
 into a rosary of beads ! For two hours by the 
 clock did Flora Johnstone, sorely against her will, 
 and with a degree of nervous tremor which she 
 strove in vain to surmount, endure the close neigh- 
 bourhood and companionship of those poor mindless 
 beings. And then the hopes and fears of that dark 
 day were over, for the twilight hour was come, and 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 once more under lock and key, the wretched girl 
 must pass another night of fear and misery ! Her 
 spirit was quite broken now, and instead of firing up 
 at the familiarity of her attendant, she implored her, 
 and that almost on her knees, to be her friend, and 
 take a message for her to the doctor — the young 
 doctor — the one who had lent her books, and spoken 
 so kindly to her. 
 
 " * You won't ! ' she cried. * Oh, you are very 
 cruel ! There is no need to shut me up ; if I could 
 tell you everything, you would believe me. Indeed, 
 indeed, I am not mad ! ' and she clung almost con- 
 vulsively to the skirts of the hard woman's dress. 
 
 " She was not moved the breadth of a single hair 
 by all the prayers that Flora poured into her ears, 
 or by the piteous face that looked with such im- 
 ploring agony into her own ; for Mrs. Bennett was 
 well used to all ' them cunning creatures' ways,' and 
 was *not to be taken in, not she, by a plausible 
 young lunatic like that ; ' so, disregarding the half- 
 frantic appeal of the terrified girl, that she would 
 not lock her up there all alone, a prisoner, and 
 listening to those shocking sounds, the inflexible 
 guardian went her way, leaving the so lately pro- 
 sperous and petted heiress in darkness and sohtude ! 
 
 " Poor child ! it was a dreadful night she passed 
 
GERVASE MACNAMARA S STORY. 229 
 
 there ; for again, and far more cruelly than before, 
 the nervous terror of being ' shut up ' took posses- 
 sion of her faculties, whilst still the low wind — 
 
 * Sate iu the pines, and gave out groan for groan,' 
 
 as the unnatural-sounding manifestations of their 
 joy or woe broke in strange confusion on the young 
 girl's senses. And where, in all that miserable time, 
 where was the lover to whose devotion she had 
 trusted, and who — (ah, she began to think it heart- 
 less now!) — ^had exposed her to this awful trial? 
 ' How long,' she asked herself — * how long can I 
 endure this agony of fear, and live ? My God ! ' she 
 cried aloud, at last, ' perhaps they mean to leave me 
 here — to leave me here to curdle into madness — to 
 scream — to howl — to tear at things — to kill the 
 
 cats — to God, take pity on me, for I am 
 
 growing mad ! ' and with a scream, the strength of 
 which might have rivalled those she had all night 
 listened to in her agony, the miserable girl sprang 
 from her bed, and shaking the door with the wild 
 fury of insanity, she shrieked her lover's name till 
 a mercifully-sent insensibility stole over her, and she 
 lay, still and white as a corpse, upon the floor ! 
 
 " On the morning which succeeded to that night 
 of anguish, the following advertisement appeared in 
 the second column of the Times : — 
 
230 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 " ' A Hundred Pounds Reward. — The above 
 reward will be given to any person who may be 
 instrumental in discovering and restoring to her 
 friends a young lady who left her home on the 11th 
 day of August last, and has not since been heard 
 of. Age eighteen. Height five feet three inches — 
 auburn hair, clear complexion, grey eyes, smiling 
 countenance. Was dressed, when she left home, in 
 a grey silk dress; straw bonnet, with blue con- 
 volvuluses inside, and a black mantilla. Linen 
 marked F. J. Any information to be forwarded to 
 J. J., No. — , Westbourne Terrace.' 
 
 " Dr. Glegg and his nephew were seated at their 
 comfortable breakfast, in a room out of hearing of 
 * anything unpleasant,' with the broad sheets of their 
 favourite newspaper spread out before them. Of 
 course, as the younger of the two. Dr. Fanshawe 
 came in, in the first instance, for the advertisement 
 sheet, and he at once glanced at the mysterious and 
 suggestive second column. Once, and again, he 
 read the announcement at its head, and was about, 
 with a haste rather unusual to him, to make his 
 comments thereupon, when his uncle forestalled him 
 by saying — 
 
 " * Here's a singular thing ! A gentleman thrown 
 from his horse on the 12th, and seriously injured 
 
GEEVASE MACNAMARA's STORY. 231 
 
 And, by Jove ! it's Captain Macnamara ! The very- 
 young fellow who brought his sister here two days 
 ago ! Severe injury to the head, but likely to recover. 
 Very singular ! It may be that he'll require medical 
 care. A fine young man, though. Very sad 
 indeed ! ' 
 
 *' ' Doctor,' said Stephen, interrupting these pro- 
 fessional exhibitions of compassion — ' Doctor, if it's 
 the same to you, I think I'll take the female wards 
 to-day.' 
 
 " ' Do, my good fellow. Your yesterday's holi- 
 day has given me a right to one to-day. And tell 
 me what you make of No. 20. She rather puzzles 
 me, I own.' 
 
 " A tap at the door, and a rather peevish * Come 
 in' from the owner of the establishment, was the 
 next and by no means welcome interruption to the 
 morning meal. 
 
 " * Please, Doctor,' said a voice, the voice of Mrs. 
 Bennett — * please. Doctor, No. 20's in a fit, and 
 wcm!t come out of it.' 
 
 " The worUt was very suggestive of the place and 
 treatment, a treatment which had always been 
 strenuously opposed by Fanshawe, who at once rose 
 from his chair, and prepared to follow the female 
 keeper from the room. 
 
232 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 "*Now, this I call a bore/ said Dr. Glegg to 
 himself. * I hate to eat my meals alone ; and if I've 
 told those women once, I've told them fifty times, I 
 would not be disturbed at breakfast. Stephen seems 
 to like it, however. Well, there's no accounting for 
 tastes ; and some men are born lunatics ; ' after 
 which sapient remark, the doctor went on with his 
 breakfast and his news. 
 
 A very different scene and duty awaited his young 
 relation in that dreary upper room, where, prone 
 upon the floor, and with her long white sleeping 
 garment for her only covering, lay the prostrate and 
 now writhing form of ' No. 20.' 
 
 " The long rich ^ auburn ' hair had escaped from the 
 control of its encircling net, and lay, like a soft 
 perfumed veil, around her ; and the ' blue ' eyes, dis- 
 tended to an unnatural size, were fixed upon the 
 door unmeaningly. There was no merriment in that 
 ghastly face, though it clearly was young ; and on the 
 sleeve of the fine cambric of her night-dress, Stephen 
 could read the initial letters F. and J. 
 
 " He raised her in his arms, and laid her on the 
 bed, parting the hair from off her burning forehead, 
 and feeling her throbbing pulses anxiously. 
 
 "*A brain fever of the worst kind, I fear,' he 
 said, in a grieved voice ; and then, with perfect self- 
 
GERVASE MACNAMARA's STORY. 233 
 
 possession, he set himself heart and soul to the work 
 of remedying the evil. Almost his first duty (and 
 this, in spite of much remonstrance from his more 
 worldly uncle) was to communicate the discovery to 
 the anxious inserters of the advertisement ; and, as 
 may be supposed, old Jacob Johnstone did not long 
 delay his coming. 
 
 " He was completely in the dark as to the c?e- 
 scn^ptton of house to which he had been directed ; 
 nay, when he was led into the room where his poor 
 little niece lay raving, he could at first scarcely 
 believe in her identity. Gone were the auburn 
 tresses that the doting' uncle deemed so matchless — 
 gone the beaming smile — and gone the dimpled 
 cheeks he loved to look upon ! Uncle Jacob stood 
 at the bed's foot of her who gazed at him, but gave 
 no sign of recognition, and the tears coursed one 
 another down his withered cheeks. 
 
 " ' Good God, sir,' he said, abruptly, seeing that 
 his emotion did not escape the eye of Dr. Fan- 
 shawe. 
 
 " ' Good God, sir. This is very shocking, and 
 very — what shall I say? — incomprehensible. How 
 came my niece an inmate of this house ? WTiat is 
 this house, sir? Speak — no falsehoods. Nay, I 
 will be answered,' continued the impetuous old man, 
 
234 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 as he saw, or fancied he saw, hesitation in the 
 manner of the medical attendant. 
 
 " ' I have neither a motive for deceiving you, nor 
 a wish to disguise the truth,' answered Fanshawe, 
 readily. *This young lady was brought here by 
 a gentleman — Captain Macnamara by name, who 
 called himself her brother — and this house is a 
 jprivate lunatic asylum.^ 
 
 " To describe the anger and despair of Mr. John- 
 stone at this announcement, and at the rapid in- 
 crease of his niece's danger, would be impossible. 
 He could scarcely be persuaded to leave her side, 
 and took up his quarters in the dismal abode where 
 he had found her. For many days she seemed to 
 hover between life and death, but at length the 
 battle was decided for the former, and the grim 
 visitor retreated slowly and in good order from 
 the scene of the short-lived but desperate combat. 
 That the girl's life was saved was chiefly due, under 
 Providence, to the unremitting care and the pro- 
 found skill, especially in cases of mental ahenation, 
 of Doctor Fanshawe. He it was who, when reason 
 was still tottering on its throne, kept the balance 
 firmly, and by his judicious treatment, restored the 
 darling of Uncle Jacob's declining years to the home 
 she had deserted. But when the day at length 
 
GERVASE MACNAMARA's STORY. 235 
 
 arrived on which it was deemed possible and pru- 
 dent to remove the now convalescent girl to her 
 uncle's house, it was evident that a more than usual 
 melancholy (for her smile was still rare and wan) 
 had settled on the once joyous face of pretty Flora 
 Johnstone. 
 
 " 'Why, what's the matter, deary?' Uncle Jacob 
 said, as (in the September twilight) the two sat 
 together in the comfortable Westboume Terrace 
 drawing-room. ' Not fretting after the captain, eh ? ' 
 
 " ' No, dear uncle. But I should so like to know 
 why — why — he forgot me.' 
 
 " Uncle Jacob scratched his head, and looked a 
 little puzzled how to act. A month had passed 
 since the eventful 12th of August, and in those four 
 weeks how many things had happened ! 
 
 " ' I think that I should like to know he loved me 
 once,' said httle Flora, sadly, for she was still weak, 
 and the tears came readily to the soft grey eyes. 
 
 " * Well, my deary, I think he did a little ; but, 
 you see, he got that wound ' 
 
 " Flora screamed, for she had not heard of the 
 accident, and was now quite prepared to take her 
 lover's part, and return to her allegiance. 
 
 " * Yes ; though I suppose I've made a mess of it 
 by telling you. He went a-shooting on the 12th * 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 {the very day, thought Flora, when I waited and 
 wept for him), * and got a chance crack from a gun/ 
 
 " * My poor, poor Gervase ! ' cried the agitated 
 girl ; and the next moment, thoroughly overcome by 
 weakness and conflicting emotions, she burst into a 
 violent and hysterical fit of sobbing, which nearly 
 frightened Uncle Jacob out of his senses. 
 
 "He rang the bells till the wire broke, and 
 nearly choked the sufferer by the totally inappro- 
 priate remedies which he insisted upon applying; 
 and the only sensible thing he did, was to inform his 
 niece the very moment she was capable of under- 
 standing him, that he had told a great falsehood — ■ 
 the first and the last — in order to test her love for 
 the captain, and that now, seeing that she was bent 
 on * having him,' he supposed he must give in, and 
 permit the young people to be happy. 
 
 " And so in time they were, for Flora lost no time 
 in summoning her faithful lover, and in ascertaining 
 the fact that a serious accident, occasioned by a fall 
 from his horse, and which caused him to lie for 
 several days insensible, had alone prevented his 
 keeping the appointment at the very time on which 
 the happiness of both depended. 
 
 " In process of time, as I need not I hope inform 
 you, they were married ; and so also was Stephen 
 
GERVASE MACNAMARA'S STORY. 237 
 
 Fanshawe — no longer a mad doctor — ^to the only 
 sister of his grateful friend the captain, who never 
 forgot that he owed, humanly speaking, his exceed- 
 ing happiness and the restoration of his wife's reason, 
 to Stephen Fanshawe and the second column of the 
 Timesr 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A PATTERN LANDLORD PHILIP's THEORIES. 
 
 It was no tedious week, despite the rains and 
 winds, which we spent with our friend Gascoigne in 
 his island quarters ; and in company with the aquatic 
 birds, swarming in thousands amongst the rocks. 
 Very wild and lonely indeed was the place, and 
 desolate, while all around there sounded the cries 
 of the curlew, and of the untameable sea-mews, as 
 they flew either lonely or in vast flocks along the 
 surface of the water. 
 
 We were fortunate (before our departure on an 
 expedition which was to be shared by Philip Gas- 
 coigne), to have one fine day, which enabled us to 
 make the acquaintance, in their secluded but com- 
 fortable home, of Captain Macnamara, and the wife 
 whose life had been so nearly sacrificed by his rash- 
 ness. There was little trace now in either, of the 
 boy and girlish folly which had led to the imprudent 
 act, for the Flora of Philip's tale was now a still 
 
A PATTERN LANDLORD. 239 
 
 handsome but matter-of-fact looking matron of 
 thirty, a good deal browned by exposure to the 
 weather, and rather neglectful, in her retirement, of 
 the adornment of her person. Her husband too had 
 grown somewhat corpulent, and a little prejudiced 
 and parochial, but he was hospitable and good- 
 natured (as Philip declared, almost to a fault). 
 Neither of them were ever, according to their own 
 confession, either ill or out of spirits; and their 
 children, whom they educated themselves, shared in 
 those enviable characteristics. 
 
 It was impossible not to admire the high-principled 
 self-devotion to their duties of Philip's friends ; and 
 I, for one, left them with a heartfelt wish that I 
 could feel the inclination to imitate, as well as the 
 power of appreciating, so admirable an example. 
 
 The following morning, which was the day 
 appointed for our sail to Achill (a three days' aifair 
 probably), and as we were quietly smoking our pipes 
 after our frugal breakfast, Philip's factotum of a 
 servant approached us, and begged respectfully that 
 our " Honours would jist cast an eye on two aigles, 
 which were soaring above our heads." Of course 
 we complied with his request, and by the help of a 
 glass, could see the magnificent bold creatures well. 
 One, the male bird, was smaller than its companion ; 
 
240 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 and both were closely followed by two pestilent jades 
 of jackdaws, who were flying about the noble 
 animals in their grand graceful swoops, but keeping 
 just above them, so that even though they had not, 
 from their very insignificance, been safe, it would 
 have been impossible for the eagles to pounce upon 
 their tormentors. 
 
 The idle hoys^ who were supposed to be digging 
 potatoes in the " lazy beds " by the side of the 
 garden-walk, knocked off their work effectually to 
 watch the flight of the birds; and "Winny," our 
 host^s middle-aged widow of-all-work, bustled out 
 in a state of great excitement, to drive in her 
 favourite black hen, for " fear the ^ big, ugly lad ' 
 should take a liking to it." 
 
 " They are becoming very rare in the country," 
 said Edward, looking through the glass, "flying, like 
 the people before the march of civilisation, as has been 
 the case ever more with savage and untamed races ! " 
 
 " Poor wretches ! " said Philip, sadly. " I don't 
 know what is to be done for them, especially in this 
 wild western district, from whence the truth never 
 reaches those who are able to help them. I have 
 seen so much of this sort of thing. A great govern- 
 ment Official undertakes, what he calls, a tour of 
 inspection, sees their rags and wretchedness on the 
 
FALSE IMPRESSIONS. ;^11 
 
 road, and believes not the tale of misery they re- 
 veal, but the words of some school inspector, some 
 venal hireling who, with the quick-wittedness of 
 his countrymen, detects the view which the great 
 man wishes to take of the state of the country, and 
 crams him accordingly." 
 
 " And the great man, when he gives in his report," 
 said Edward, assentingly, " informs other honourable 
 gentlemen that the country is doing very well ; and 
 although he may not be quite either ignorant or 
 silly enough to draw a parallel between the little 
 Western * Holdings ' and the two and three-acre 
 farms of flourishing Belgium, yet he leaves a general 
 impression on the * sinse ' of the house that the Irish 
 small farmers, though an improvident race, are, in 
 point of fact, much better off than they deserve 
 to be." 
 
 It was in conversation such as this that we passed 
 the time, varied by calms and squalls, till we were 
 within half an hour's sail of the bold rocky pro- 
 montory known as Achill Head, towards which we 
 were slowly sailing, admiring greatly, as we ap- 
 proached it, the grand dark mass frowning down 
 upon the sea. The wind was nearly due south, but 
 very light, and threatening ere long to die away 
 altogether. This, however, was no misfortune to 
 
242 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 US, as it formed part of our plan to land at the 
 Sound of Acliill, and visit the interior of the island. 
 The Achill Mountains are, I fancy, the loftiest range 
 to be seen in any portion of the British Isles, as they 
 extend for nearly four miles (at least so say the 
 surveys) ; and at the highest point, which rises per- 
 pendicularly from the sea, reaching to the elevation 
 of 2200 feet. 
 
 Unable to resist the temptation of viewing those 
 grand mountains from the sea, we had followed on 
 our northern way too far for the prosecution of our 
 original plan ; but at a suggestion of the sapient 
 Mike, we decided on pursuing another course — 
 namely, that of running into Blacksod Bay, with 
 the intention of landing near the picturesque ruins 
 of Doona Castle. The idea met with general appro- 
 bation ; and the cutter having been put about, we 
 ran with a flowing sheet towards the shore. 
 
 " And so you really spent a month in this desolate 
 district ? " asked Edward of our friend, when, about 
 one hour later we were sauntering together along 
 the sea-shore, and resting from time to time on the 
 soft green herbage which struggles into life from out 
 the yellow sand. 
 
 " Indeed I did, and enjoyed the life extremely ; 
 although I reached this place — by which expression 
 
ACHILL ISLAND. 248 
 
 I mean the little inn at Achill Sound — in a gale of 
 wind, and under torrents of rain which well nigh 
 damped my spirit of adventure. There is a flat 
 expanse of boggy valley on either side of the road, 
 which extends for a considerable distance after 
 
 leaving the beautiful mountain pass of M (we 
 
 shall traverse it on our return), and I confess that 
 while buffeted by the storm in that exposed and 
 howling wilderness, I did half regret the step I had 
 taken, and longed for the comfort of a good arm- 
 chair, where (listening to the wind outside) I might 
 congratulate myself on being sheltered from the 
 blast." 
 
 " You came for sport, of course ? " I asked. " Did 
 you find anything worth the staying for? How 
 were the grouse ? and did you kill many fish?" 
 
 " The grouse were not plentiful," answered Philip. 
 " Nor can one be surprised that such should be the 
 case, for the birds are as tame in these mountains 
 as barn-door fowl ; and as, both from their nature 
 and their necessities, the peasantry are ingenious 
 plunderers, it is natural to suppose that they will 
 both rob the nests, and take or kill the birds when- 
 ever opportunity offers. The salmon fishing, too, 
 as is always the case in mountainous countries, is a 
 very precarious sport, for the rivers empty them- 
 
 R 2 
 
244 THE CRUISE OP THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 selves as quickly as they fill, and ' no flood, no fish,' 
 is a tjruth perfectly indisputable." 
 
 " Then how did you pass your time ? " 
 
 " In what way did you kill your month ? " were 
 our respective queries. 
 
 " In various interesting ways," was the rejoinder, 
 " although in description they do not sound very 
 lively. In the first place, I wandered over the 
 desolate Achill Island, carved my name upon its 
 one tree, and convinced myself of how impossible it 
 must have been for the inhabitants of a region so 
 resourceless to resist, in the extremity of their 
 distress, the temptations of the converting mis- 
 sionaries. They had no remedy against starvation 
 save the renunciation of their creed. And what 
 was the result of those unreal though well-sounding 
 conversions ? But I need not dwell on this subject, 
 for the fact is patent, that the famine-produced 
 Protestant colony in Achill was a signal and lament- 
 able failure." 
 
 "What a hopeless-looking district it appears to 
 be," exclaimed Bertha. 
 
 " Hopeless indeed ! " responded Philip ; " and we 
 may easily suppose that such hopelessness existed in 
 the olden time: for *to be sent to the Devil or 
 Connaught,' is a saying that dates from some 
 
HIGH BENTS. 245 
 
 centuries back, and shows, I think, that the localities 
 were considered as something approaching to equality, 
 as far as their unpopularity as places of punishment 
 is concerned. But," he added, more seriously, " even 
 this seaboard portion of the province, with its arid 
 soil and its summerless climate, might, but for the 
 shortsightedness and selfishness of its rulers, be 
 turned to good account." 
 
 " The great difficulty, I imagine," was my remark, 
 " lies, as we have often said, in the people them- 
 selves — in their unthriftiness, their idleness, and 
 their incapability of pursuing a fixed system of any 
 kind." 
 
 " There you are wrong," said Philip, *' for the 
 greatest difficulty lies in the impossibility of the 
 people paying their rent, and making a decent living 
 out of their small holdings. ' Land pays better to 
 the landlord let in small farms,' is the argument 
 doubtless used by many proprietors and their often 
 omnipotent bailiifs. And they are right, or rather 
 they would be so, if the very small tenants did 
 pay, but unfortunately they don't, and can't ; so the 
 said landowners have to content themselves with 
 little more than an innate consciousness of power, 
 in that they esteem themselves great feudal lords 
 over their miserable tenants, whose fate is too often 
 
24^6 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 dependent on the will and pleasure of the viceroy 
 under whose iron rule, in the absence of their actual 
 landlord, they suffer the alternate miseries of 
 struggle, suspense, starvation, and ejection." 
 
 " Love of s.uch rule as this seems to be an old, old 
 story in this country," said Fairholme, "for we read 
 in history that in the days of the second Charles, 
 *the peasantry stood always liable to the caprice 
 and humour of their landlords, and to have every- 
 thing taken from them when he pleases to fancy ; ' 
 and, indeed, it seems probable that it is this same 
 love of rule and power which prompts the successors 
 of those autocratic gentlemen to refuse leases to their 
 tenantry, and " 
 
 "That and the use and abuse which the said 
 tenantry have been knovm occasionally to make of 
 their rights, in cases where the rent paid amounted 
 to the magic but often nominal sum of ten pounds 
 yearly. The priests, as we all know, interfere 
 mightily in elections, for the domg of which they 
 receive their orders direct from Rome ; and can we 
 wonder that under these circumstances the landlords 
 should take their own measures to prevent the con- 
 sequence of an interference so monstrous'^ The 
 fear of eviction is the best guarantee for the vote of 
 a ten-pound tenant ; for bribery and intimidation are 
 
ALL IN THE DAKK. 217. 
 
 as rife here as in England, with this difference, that 
 whereas in our country such httle affairs are con- 
 ducted suh rosd^ the right of a landlord over the 
 so-called consciences of his tenantry is here discussed 
 openly and unreservedly. 
 
 "And I am not sure," said Edward, "that the 
 latter is not of the two the more respectable and 
 honourable proceeding. But," he continued, " is it 
 not terrible to think how small an uicentive (under 
 the present system) there exists for the peasantry to 
 become industrious and (in their line) respectable 
 members of society ! They have no chance, at least 
 in Ireland, of a better future. From day to day, 
 and from year to year, their utter lack of home 
 comforts remains the same ; while still the daughters 
 of the land, like beasts of burthen, labour in the wet 
 bogs, bare-legged, and over-taxed. Thus their days 
 pass on in hrutalising^ because aimless, toil, till 
 ' hardened to hope, although anything but insensible 
 to fear,' they sink into what their forefathers were 
 before them — id est — mere clods, living on from day 
 to day in the depths of dirt, and degradation ; and, 
 until of late years, of ignorance V 
 
 " And what strange views some of the most 
 generous and humane amongst the Irish landlords 
 take of the best measures to be pursued for the 
 
us THE CKUISE or THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 amelioration of their tenantry's condition ! They 
 cannot, they say, bring themselves to degrade their 
 small farmers into the condition of English labourers ! 
 And they affirm that, though well aware of the dis- 
 advantage to themselves of a pauperised tenantry, 
 they would rather endure the loss than be guilty of 
 an act so barbarous ! ' The frightful diminution of 
 rent at the time of the memorable '47 Famine 
 should,' — so said, one day, to me a landlord whose 
 personal sacrifices at that period of misery will long 
 be remembered through the land, — 'have taught 
 me the wisdom of abolishing my small holdings 
 altogether, but I have not the heart to do it,'' So 
 reasoned a man whose logical powers are on most 
 subjects above the average ; but it seemed beyond 
 him to understand that there is no separating the 
 interests of landlord and tenant, and that on the 
 prosperity of the one depends the well-being of the 
 other." 
 
 *' But," said Bertha, " the sight of the poor desti- 
 tute families after a harvest failure, might make him 
 see the matter in its right light." 
 
 " It might, if he did see them in their suffering 
 condition ; but this he rarely does. Moreover, he is 
 probably assured by those in whom he places con- 
 fidence, that his tenantry never were more flourish- 
 
THE UNIONS. 24)9 
 
 ing — an assertion which is most likely (in his 
 opinion) confirmed by the undeniable fact that the 
 union is not crammed with paupers, and that as yet 
 the poor-rates have not sensibly risen." 
 
 " He forgets," put in Philip, " how intuitively 
 every Irishman shrinks from saying unpleasant 
 things, especially to those socially above him ; nor 
 has he generally the remotest idea of the terrible 
 amount of privation which an Irish peasant will 
 submit to rather than enter those dreaded walls, 
 where, in separation from those who are near and 
 dear to him, he will, in captivity, and what he con- 
 siders shame, endure the weary punishment of 
 unpitied pauperism." 
 
 " I have seen the struggle often," said Bertha, 
 pityingly, " and watched them — 
 
 * Lean, and weary, and wan, 
 With only the ghosts of garments on I ' 
 
 struggling hopelessly against their coming fate. 
 One after another, their small means of subsistence 
 fail them. The pig is sold to pay the landlord, and 
 the poor decaying furniture is parted with bit by 
 bit, even to the bed on which they once lay all 
 huddled together in their rags. If they can, they 
 borrow money at ruinous interest, while last, and 
 most painful sacrifice of all, the cow, which has 
 
^50 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIED." 
 
 shared their home, and given them almost their 
 only food, is driven to the nearest fair for sale, and 
 soon the family is destitute indeed. An ounce or 
 two of Indian meal once a day, a few limpets from 
 the rocks, and may be some boiled chickweed — ■ 
 these are frequently their means of subsistence till 
 the potatoes are ready for use ; and deep indeed is 
 the anxiety felt for the safety of the crop by those 
 who are solely dependent for existence on a means 
 so precarious." 
 
 *' Precarious indeed!" said Philip; "for besides 
 that, as we have often agreed, the climate labours 
 under the disadvantage of having neither winter's 
 frosts, nor summer's sun, the people cannot afford to 
 enrich in any way the exhausted soil, while it 
 cannot be denied that the seasons grow yearly more 
 inclement. Scant food, and, if possible, still scanter 
 clothing, with the turf * melted on them ' by reason 
 of the constant rains — can we be surprised that 
 fever with all its direful sufferings should supervene 
 on privations so severe and unremitting, and that 
 the cry for aid to those able to help them should be 
 heard throughout the length and breadth of the 
 land?" 
 
 " Which cry," said I, " will probably be un- 
 attended to, for the sympathies of the English people 
 
KAISING THE ' RINT. 251 
 
 were exhausted by the last famme, and the cry of 
 Irish distress is never a popular one. There will 
 be talk about tenant right, and some suggestions 
 thrown out about relief from taxation, and there the 
 matter will end." 
 
 "As to tenant right," said Gascoigne, "it appears 
 to me, that besides the immense difficulties which 
 would arise in carrying out anything so anomalous, 
 there is the broad standing fact to be got over — 
 namely, that a man's land is his oa\ti, and that if he 
 lets it, he has a right to do so — as — how — and to 
 whom he likes, without control or hindrance. No ; 
 the management of his poor tenantry ; and whether 
 they live in peace and comfort, or perish miserably, 
 are matters to be settled between a landlord and his 
 conscience, and between his conscience and his God. 
 It is certain that men will not expend the sweat of 
 their brow, and all their little capital on a holding, 
 the rent of which will only be ' raised on them ' for 
 their pains ; and this being the case, and it being 
 evidently difficult to make the landlords understand 
 that this province of Ireland is not calculated for the 
 production of cereal crops, and the maintenance of a 
 small and poverty-stricken tenantry, it behoves the 
 English government, and failing them the philan- 
 thropic millionnaires of England, who have more 
 
252 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 money than they know what to do with, to take the 
 matter in hand." 
 
 "As how?" asked Edward and I simultaneously. 
 
 "Principally by the draining and reclaiming of 
 some thousands of acres of waste lands which are 
 now lying useless and profitless, and the turning 
 which into grazing-land for herds of Highland cattle, 
 would employ hundreds, ay thousands of starving 
 people. Loans from Government for such a pur- 
 pose can, as we all know, be obtained ; but in cases 
 — and they are very numerous — where the landlords 
 either cannot or will not take advantage of this 
 means for the bettering of the condition of the poor, 
 and the improvement of his property, I would have 
 the foolish man coerced for his ovm and his country's 
 benefit." 
 
 "As how?" I asked. 
 
 " By an Act making a sale of such lands com- 
 pulsory, at their existing value. This may appear 
 in the light of an infringement of the rights of 
 private property, or an arbitrary exercise of power : 
 but have we not valuable precedents in the inter- 
 ference of the Government, when in the cases of 
 railway lines the convenience only of the public was 
 concerned ? How much more so, then, should such 
 rights be exercised wlien it is a question of actual 
 
IRELAND A GRAZING COUNTRY. 253 
 
 existence to thousands, to say nothing of our reputa- 
 tion amongst nations for humanity and good govern- 
 ment?" 
 
 "And," said Fairholme, assentingly, "the work- 
 men employed should, in my opinion, have the hope 
 held out, of some individual benefit to accrue to 
 them from their labour. Indeed, were I that un- 
 attackable machine called Government, I would 
 make such a benefit compulsory before I advanced 
 a shilling for the reclaiming of land, the value of 
 which would be inestimable for grazing purposes. 
 No land, however, not one inch, should be let in 
 farms smaller than twenty acres, and I would 
 endeavour to persuade every labourer that, in saving 
 out of his wages sufficient for emigrating purposes 
 lay his best chance of happiness and pros- 
 perity." 
 
 " It is difficult," I remarked, "to understand the 
 reason of the lamentation over the Exodus of the 
 Irish people. If they were made happy and pros- 
 perous at home, they would probably remain at 
 home; and as for the priests, who are o/them, and 
 must and do sympathise with the calamities which 
 they witness, why, in God's name let them go like- 
 wise, and exercise in another country the religious 
 functions which are so ill-paid in this. Already — ■ 
 
254 THE CRUISE OF THE ' HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 and it is natural that it sliould be so — tlie necessi- 
 ties of their flocks are rendering the people less sub- 
 servient to their clergy, and the latter have to 
 increase in number and in awfulness the threats by 
 which they enforce from their flocks the payment of 
 their miserable dues. To be childless (a tremendous 
 menace to the peasantry hereabouts), and to be 
 turned into the beasts of the field, with horns and 
 hoofs, are common judgments held in terrorem over 
 the heads of the defaulters. To this condition, and 
 in the hands of a priesthood whose own limited 
 education and stern necessities compel them to such 
 measures, has the short-sighted policy of England 
 reduced this unhappy people ! " 
 
 *'But do you believe," was my next question, 
 " that the Irish would, even in their own country, 
 and in their own behalf, labour continuously, and 
 according to any regular system of husbandry ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I do believe so," replied Gascoigne, 
 earnestly; "and who that has ever watched them 
 when toiling on the acre of wild bog, which they 
 feel secure of as their own, can doubt the fact ? But 
 there is, besides the one I have already mentioned, 
 another means of utilising the labour, instead of 
 pauperising such of the destitute poor as are able to 
 work. They are wonderfully ingenious at all 
 
INHERITANCE OF HATE. 255 
 
 manufactures — these misgoverned people. Why, 
 then, should not Unions, under another name, be 
 establishments where such capabilities might be 
 brought to light, and use? The door of hope 
 might thus be held open to the people, and 
 many an advantage accrue to them and to the 
 country." 
 
 " It has occurred to me," suggested Fairholme, 
 " that in the species of draining you propose, a 
 portion of what is called the pauper population 
 might be, in some way or other, usefully em- 
 ployed." 
 
 " Certainly," rejoined Philip. " And there can 
 be, I think, little doubt that the question of making 
 such labour productive has, in Ireland especially, 
 been shamefully neglected. To remove the present 
 (in too many instances natural) dislike to the land- 
 lord would be a great advantage, not only to this 
 country, but to its reputation in the world; but alas ! 
 the feeling is one that has been the growth of 
 centuries, and forms part of an Irish peasant's 
 natural inheritance. It is matter of history, that 
 in the reigns of the early Edwards, the Irish ^' lower 
 orders " petitioned for protection from the English 
 laws, and also that they might participate in the 
 privileges enjoyed by lawful subjects of the English 
 
256 THE CRUISE OF'THE "HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 crown. Their oft-repeated request was denied 
 them, nor can we marvel that, oppressed even in 
 those days by that scourge of the country — ' Middle- 
 men' — they should have become the reckless 
 enemies of those who refused to accept them as 
 friends ? " 
 
 *' Do you recollect a passage in Spenser's His- 
 tory ? " asked Bertha, addressing her husband ; " a 
 passage in which he describes a state of things very 
 similar to that which existed in the ever-memorable 
 year of '47 ? He says (I remember well the words) : 
 * The Irish were brought to such wretchedness, as 
 that any stonie heart would have rued the same. 
 Out of every corner of the woods and glynnes they 
 came creeping forth on their hands, for the legges 
 would not bear them. They looked like anatomies 
 of death : they spake like ghosts crying out of their 
 graves : they did eat the dead carrions : yea, happy 
 were they who could find them, and if they found a 
 plot of cresses or shamrocks, there they flocked as 
 to a feast for the time : yet not being able to con- 
 tinue long there withal.' " 
 
 " There were no Relief Committees in those days," 
 remarked Gascoigne, " and no * frinds ' in America 
 to send relief to their hungry brethren at home. Ah, 
 well ! I fear it will be always found difficult, not to 
 
NATURAL ENEMIES. 257 
 
 Bay impossible, to convince the masses of the people 
 in England, and especially those in authority, that 
 for all his calamities, for his ignorance, and his 
 poverty, and even for his death by starvation and by 
 fever, the Irish peasant has any one to blame but 
 himself. Public opinion with us at home is against 
 him, while here the tenant is too often regarded by 
 the landlord as his natural enemy, and treated 
 accordingly." 
 
 "It certainly does look like it," said Edward, 
 smiling ; " but still, in a general kind of unreasoning 
 way, there are many who entertain very kindly 
 feelings towards their tenantry, and who, with the 
 exception of the sweeping changes we have been 
 speaking of, would do a great deal to help 
 them." 
 
 " Granted," said Philip ; " but to set against the 
 value of my concession, I cannot resist telling you 
 that lately, in my hearing, one of the largest land- 
 owners in the country, on hearing of the distress 
 amongst the poor, gravely remarked that the sooner 
 his tenantry were pauperised the better, as he would 
 then be enabled to let his land at a much higher rent 
 to Saxon settlers ! " 
 
 " The times are, indeed, probably returning," said 
 Edward, gravely, " when such wholesale changes of 
 
a TXTT^r,,T^T« ^,^^ " 
 
 258 THE CEUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD 
 
 tenants must perforce take place; but whilst we 
 are still discoursing on the subject of Irish national 
 characteristics, let me ask you whether it has never 
 occurred to you as remarkable, that, although the 
 upper classes in this country are amongst the fore- 
 most both to ridicule and disparage the qualities and 
 peculiarities of the lower orders of their countrymen, 
 those qualities and peculiarities are (and such is not 
 the case in other civilised communities), though 
 modified by circumstances, the characteristics of 
 their own class and degree?" 
 
 "I perceive your meaning," answered Gascoigne, 
 " but I confess to finding a difficulty in accounting 
 for the fact to which you allude. In both, or rather 
 in all classes, there exists undoubtedly that singular 
 deficiency in moral perception which is perhaps 
 caused by their being, after the manner of the softer 
 sex (I beg your pardon, Mrs. Fairholme), incapable 
 of close consecutive thought. The same ^ wild Irish 
 way,' too, pervades everything and every condition 
 in this country, and it is to this that we may, 
 perhaps, in part attribute the errors and mistakes in 
 the government of their properties to which so many 
 Hibernian gentlemen are subject. The love, too, of 
 litigation, and the joining together in factions for the 
 keeping up of petty and vexatious quarrels, are 
 
NATIONAL VIRTUES. 259 
 
 equally discernible in Hibernians of all degrees ; but 
 whilst calling to mind such regrettable qualities as 
 these, and attributing them, as we may in many 
 instances do, to blunder-headed prejudice and to 
 ignorance of human nature and of the world, we 
 must never lose sight of the fact, that for many an 
 excellent quality, and especially for their conspicuous 
 practice of the grand virtue of generous hospitality, 
 both the rich and the poor of this misjudged land 
 of Erin stand conspicuous amongst the nations of 
 
 the earth ; while even now " 
 
 " The poor are aiding the poor," broke in Edward, 
 eagerly ; " and many a landlord (although perhaps 
 he knows it not) is receiving, in the persons of his 
 suffering tenantry, charitable aid from their country- 
 men in distant lands, who can only give their mite ! 
 And not only from them, but from the many humbler 
 charitable — from Canada, from France, and from thfe 
 indefatigable Mansion House Committee, sum{=!, 
 inadequate it is true to the great demand, arrive foi 
 the sick and hungry, whose sufferings are so bravely 
 borne." 
 
 " There are," said Fairholme, " (and of this fact I 
 have long been convinced,) two great desideratums 
 in this country, namely, public opinion, and an 
 influential middle class." 
 
 8 2 
 
260 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIKD.' 
 
 "And truth," added Bertha, with that genuinely 
 feminine disconnectedness to which Philip had just 
 alluded. " For of that virtue there certainly is a 
 terrible lack, though wherefore such should be the 
 case I have never been able to comprehend." 
 
 " We must go very far back for causes, I suspect," 
 said Gascoigne — "perhaps even to the fighting 
 days of 'ould Ireland,' when cunning was above all 
 things necessary for self-preservation, and when, as 
 testimony to the unsettled state of affairs, only ten 
 out of three hundred and odd sovereigns died a 
 natural and respectable death in their beds ! And 
 then there followed the endless rebellions against 
 English rule, and the dangerous teaching of their 
 religion. Terrible times indeed had they, and none 
 other ; for what must have been the influence of the 
 priesthood and their own blood-thirsty zeal when, 
 on one occasion — on the dreadful St. Ignatius' day — 
 they could be induced to massacre forty thousand 
 Protestant men, women, and children? — the which 
 act of treachery was amply, though far too indis- 
 criminately, avenged. And think you that memories 
 of such deeds are ever entirely wiped away, or that 
 the hatred engendered by difference of race and creed 
 has not borne, amongst its other bitter fruits, those 
 of falsehood and treachery? Ever at war, and ever 
 
HIBERNIAN EXAGGERATION. 261 
 
 unsettled ; — lovers of law, to the loving even of its 
 chicanery^ and the tolerating (by the extensive use 
 of that means of defence) its lawless expensiveness ; 
 — trusting to obtain by their own quick wits that 
 which they cannot get possession of by force, or 
 from the justice of their rulers ; and taught by their 
 priests, not only that falsehood is a venial sin, 
 but that the keeping of a promise is merely a matter 
 of expediency, — can we be surprised that lying should 
 have become a habit in the country, and one of the 
 distinguishing characteristics of the people in whom 
 by long use it has been bred? '* 
 
 "The vice we are speaking of being," said 
 Edward, " one common to all thinly populated 
 countries, and especially so amongst a people en- 
 dowed with a propensity (as is the case with excitable 
 and lively natures) to identify themselves so com- 
 pletely with the part they play, that they end by 
 putting faith in their own false statements. But 
 enough for the present of Hibernian errors and their 
 many extenuating causes, for it is time that in the 
 halls of the Lady Pirate, the ' proud invader ' of her 
 conquered country should take his midday meal ; the 
 meaning of which is that we three hungry English 
 people are ready for our luncheon. So, Bertha dear, 
 bestir yourself; and may the mighty shade of ' Grania 
 
U TXTT-.r^^Tl.T/^ T^T-r^T^ " 
 
 262 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD 
 
 Waile ' '^' look graciously on the cold collation of 
 the Saxon." 
 
 * Grace O'Malley— a mighty Hibernian Cliieftainess, and the Queen of 
 Clare Island and its dependencies. She was possessed of much wealth 
 and many castles, and about the middle of the sixteenth century she paid 
 a visit to, and was well received by. Queen Elizabeth, who hospitably 
 invited her to dinner. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 GRACE o'mALLEY ACHILL ISLAND THE PIRATES OP 
 
 INNISKEA. 
 
 There was, it must be confessed, but a very 
 small portion still remaining of Grace O'Malley's 
 ancient castle. On one side only was the grey 
 stone wall in even a tolerable state of preservation, 
 but over the venerable surface of the ruins (and 
 it was an ample compensation for the insecurity of 
 their toppling grandeur) the trailing ivy drooped, 
 clinging closely to the mouldering fragments, while 
 many a fern and lichen added their quota of adorn- 
 ment to the picturesque and interesting place. 
 
 " She must have been a marvellously strong- 
 minded woman, that same western Chieftainess," 
 said Gascoigne, as, beneath the remains of her 
 ancient splendour, we enjoyed our modern meal, 
 after having cooked, over a fire of our own igniting, 
 some of the fish caught within the precincts of her 
 ocean dominions. " A curiously strong-minded 
 
264 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 woman, indeed, if we may put any faith in the his- 
 tories that are related of her." 
 
 " She is supposed to have been buried," suggested 
 Bertha, " at the extremity of one of the small 
 peninsulas which run into the Bay of Islands ; and 
 it is, of course, a haunted place. We have seen the 
 grave, which is in a spot well suited to the wild 
 nature of the sovereign who rests beneath the rocky 
 pile raised long years ago to her memory. A gigantic 
 woman, too, she must have been, for it is on record 
 that each step she took was five feet long at the 
 very least." 
 
 *' I wonder what Queen Elizabeth thought of her," 
 said Philip, "and in what manner the Celtic Chief- 
 tainess conducted herself at the court of the mighty 
 sovereign who was so fortunate as to reign at a 
 period when (as has been happily expressed by an 
 Irish author) * England had a Cecil for a minister, 
 a Bacon for a lord chancellor, a Raleigh for a 
 buccaneer, and a Sidney for a fine gentleman." "' 
 
 " To say nothing of a Shakspeare for a poet," 
 rejoined Fairholme. " But to return to Grania 
 Waile. It is probable that the mighty monarch was 
 in a tolerably good humour at the time of the Irish 
 lady's visit, since, as is generally supposed, it took 
 
 * Aubrey de Vero. 
 
ATHENRY MASSACRE. 265 
 
 place soon after the effectual quelling of Tyrone's 
 Rebellion. There was, however, certainly very little 
 * love lost' between the two countries, for we read 
 that, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth of happy 
 memory, so great was the ill-feeling entertained in 
 Ireland towards their English masters, ' that two 
 sons of Lord Clanricarde did raise an insurrection 
 in the town of Athenry, and put all the inhabitants 
 thereof to the sword, because the said inhabitants 
 had begun to conform themselves to English cus- 
 toms, and had shown dangerous symptoms of an 
 inclination to lead a more civilised life than that 
 which had satisfied the ambition of their ances- 
 tors.' " 
 
 " That comes of being what you call an * excitable 
 people,'" said Philip, drily; "and now, having 
 finished our repast, what say you to a turn in that 
 deplorable-looking burialground yonder, and to an 
 endeavour to discover therein some interesting 
 remains of antiquity?" 
 
 The cemetery towards which Gascoigne directed 
 our attention was within sight of, and a couple of 
 hundred yards distant from, the ruins. The path 
 which led to it was choked up with tall rank nettles, 
 and with luxuriantly-growing thistles and bramble- 
 bushes ; nor would it have been easy, save for the 
 
266 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 black painted and rotting wooden crosses, to avoid 
 treading on some of the innumerable mounds be- 
 neath which the dead were resting. It was a dark 
 and dreary place, and the more so in that, amongst 
 the unwholesome growth of weeds, large human 
 bones gleamed white and cold. The evening was 
 beginning to close in, and a few drops of chilling 
 rain fell from the leaden-looking sky, whilst all 
 around, borne on the wailings of the low-voiced 
 wind, there seemed to come — 
 
 " The weary sound, and the heavy breath, 
 And the silent motions, of passing Death ; 
 And the smell, cold, oppressive, and dank, 
 Sent through the pores of the coffin plank." 
 
 " Let us leave this mournful spot," said Bertha, 
 with a shiver, and with a cheek nearly as pale as 
 the bleached remnants of mortality that lay around 
 us ; " it breathes of decay and death." 
 
 Fairholme drew his wife*s arm within his own, 
 and Gascoigne and I following, we left the place of 
 hollow skulls and ghastly memories, for the breath 
 of the open sea and the air that comes undefiled 
 from heaven. 
 
 The next day we set out betimes on our long- 
 meditated excursion round the island of Achill. 
 Our mode of progression was on safe and excellent 
 
ACHILL HEAD. 267 
 
 ponies, bred on the island, and possessing great 
 strength and powers of endurance. Happily the 
 day was fine, or we should have had little to reward 
 us for our exertions — ^the whole beauty of the scenery 
 consisting in the magnificent and extensive sea 
 view, which, in this country, is so often shrouded 
 in mist. 
 
 Achill, as a whole, and till you begin to ascend 
 the clifi*s, contains little worthy of notice. We 
 passed through two villages, from out the wretched 
 hovels of which there rushed swarms of curious 
 little begging savages, half clad and starved look- 
 ing. They were very clamorous, hanging perse- 
 veringly upon our "skirts" for a considerable 
 distance up the mountain. 
 
 The ponies, with the exception of that ridden by 
 Bertha, were left at the village, in charge of a 
 peasant whose services we had engaged for the 
 day; and then, fortified by a luncheon, of which 
 we had partaken, not in a ruined castle, but on the 
 sands of the wild sea shore, we proceeded on our 
 way. 
 
 For awhile the ascent was not steep, but it gra- 
 dually became more precipitous, and as it did so, 
 the narrow path drew nearer to the edge of the 
 nearly vertical descent. It required a strong head 
 
268 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 ■ and healthy nerves to look down, without a feeling 
 of giddy awe, upon the sea beneath ; for at the 
 height of a thousand feet the rocks are (as I have 
 said) nearly vertical, and as the pathway is cut out 
 of the steep mountain side, it is necessarily of no 
 reassuring width. 
 
 Edward's hand never left the bridle of his wife's 
 pony ; and as he walked between her and danger I 
 was struck by the contrast presented by his small, 
 slight form, and the indomitable spirit with which 
 love and an inborn energy of soul had made amends 
 for the scant personal gifts that Nature had bestowed 
 upon him. 
 
 Two hours passed away ere we reached the sum- 
 mit of Achill Head, but that gained we rested from 
 our labour and looked around us. We were at an 
 elevation of nearly two thousand feet above the sea, 
 the sound of which, as it broke with its grand 
 eternal music on the rocks below, came faintly to 
 our ears, while the fishing-boats that were rocking 
 on the waves seemed in truth diminished to a span ! 
 Beautiful in its repose was the sunlit Atlantic as 
 we gazed across it to fix our eyes on the grand 
 Clare Island mountain, on the cloud-clad heights of 
 Muilrea, and the fairy-haunted Pins of Binnabola! 
 "And that is Inniskea?" I asked of Philip, as. 
 
INNISKEA PIKATES. 
 
 turning my glass in another direction, namely, north- 
 wards, I noticed a small island lying about two miles 
 from the mainland. 
 
 " It is," he replied ; " and a wretched little rocky 
 place it is. There are two islets, as you may see, 
 lying close together, each about half a mile in length, 
 and so washed by the incessant dashing of the 
 Atlantic waves, that the rocks of which they are 
 formed have become curiously indented with creeks 
 and inlets." 
 
 "And are they inhabited?" 
 
 " Indeed they are, and plentifully too, by a popu- 
 lation the most wild, ignorant, and wretched that 
 you can imagine. You have heard, of course, of 
 the piracies committed along this coast — robberies 
 of vessels laden with grain, or coal, as the case may 
 be? Well, the aggressors are those miserable 
 islanders ; men who are in the last stage of desti- 
 tution and misery — who see their children expiring 
 of inanition and fever before their eyes, and whose 
 priests have told them that to take from others in 
 their extremity is no sin." 
 
 " I never heard," I remarked, " whether any 
 punishment was inflicted on the much-to-be-pitied 
 robbers, or whether any measures were taken to pre- 
 vent a repetition of the offence." 
 
270 THE CKUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIED." 
 
 "A fine of some eighty pounds was, if I recollect 
 right, the award in the case of the grain-vessel 
 piracy — a fine which the islanders cannot, of course, 
 pay, and which will therefore, I conclude, be levied 
 on the barony. The men themselves could not, I 
 believe, be identified ; besides, they were starving : 
 — what more can one say?" 
 
 " And are there no police stations, or preventive 
 service men, on the island?" asked Fairholme. 
 
 " None whatever." 
 
 " But they are somebody's tenants?" 
 
 " Of course they are ; but whose I do not know : 
 and if we wait for redress for such grievances as 
 these till Irish members remember for what cause 
 they should have entered the world of politics, I 
 fear that a dozenth Chinese war, and a hundredth 
 debate on the Reform Bill, will have run their course 
 before anything effectual is done for this neglected 
 country." 
 
 " But who," asked Bertha, " is the judicious and 
 charitable individual of whom we have heard as a 
 liberal benefactor to the population hereabouts ? " 
 
 " He is a wise and good Christian from the East," 
 answered Philip, as we rose to retrace our steps, 
 "who knows the value of employment to these 
 people, and who bestows it on them in plenty. Nor 
 
THE SLUMBERING SEA. 271 
 
 is it by employment only that lie does them service, 
 for he opens their hearts by binding them closely to 
 him by acts of kindness, by his care for them in 
 sickness, and by his treatment of them as inde- 
 pendent men when health and strength is theirs. 
 Were there many such benefactors to Ireland as the 
 man we speak of, this country would cease to be a 
 blot on England's greatness, and her people would, 
 I fimily believe, be no longer stigmatised as laden 
 with the terrible vices of treachery and ingratitude." 
 
 We had descended the mountain, stopping occa- 
 sionally to rest, and castmg lingering glances, as 
 travellers are wont to do on a lovely prospect which 
 they are little likely to behold again, when Edward, 
 leaning his arm on the neck of his wife's little steed, 
 turned his face towards the radiant west, where the 
 sun was setting in a golden glory, and said, half 
 mournfully — 
 
 " It is there that we are bound, my Bertha ; and, 
 alas ! how can we, short-sighted mortals, tell 
 whether we four friends will ever stand together 
 face to face again ! Great changes are before us, at 
 least so I am warned by a presentiment which never 
 yet has failed me; but sometimes, Bertha dear, I 
 almost feel as though the voyage we so much dread 
 may be escaped, and that we may be allowed, after 
 
272 THE CEUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 all our trials and anxieties, to remain in peace at 
 home." 
 
 " God grant it ! " responded Bertha. " For 
 peacefully as it stretches there before us, the sea 
 is not, as we all know — to be trusted — and I am a 
 very coward, Edward, and a sore burthen upon you 
 with my sickly nerves and fancies ! Can I also ever 
 forget that it is from kin of mine you meet with this 
 most inexcusable coercion, and that " 
 
 " Hush, love," broke in Fairholme ; " sufficient to 
 the day is the evil thereof; and should it be our fate 
 to traverse, ere many weeks are over, that trackless 
 waste, the disposal of our lot will be in higher hands 
 than his who thinks, that in setting forth upon our 
 distant voyage, we are the tools of one as powerless 
 as ourselves." 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE CHURCH UPON THE MOOR — COMING TRIBULATION 
 AGRARIAN OUTRAGES. 
 
 The following day was Sunday, — another rest day 
 from our not over-fatiguing sight-seeing labours, — 
 and the last which we were likely to spend in the 
 westernmost portion of this religiously distracted 
 country. 
 
 The Protestant church (for there was one " in it,'* 
 with a congregation which amounted to sit^ stood, 
 and doubtless does so still, in an exposed situa- 
 tion, and on the dreariest of moors — on what, in 
 short, may truly be called the very " abomination of 
 desolation." 
 
 Having said this much of the site of the temple, 
 some idea may be formed of the ministering priest 
 thereof when I add, that his countenance was as 
 gloomy and uninviting as the desolate region in 
 which his lot was cast. His voice, too, sounded very 
 drearily through the unfilled building, as he held 
 
274 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 forth for the customary hour, not only against the 
 " idolatrous Papist," but against the " rich " of all 
 degrees and denominations. 
 
 "How hardly shall the rich man enter the 
 kingdom of God." This was his text, and forty 
 minutes at least of his discourse were employed in 
 running over, with apparently intense satisfaction to 
 himself, the long list of the excluded. So lengthy 
 indeed was the catalogue, and so comprehensive, 
 that I began to marvel to how many, besides 
 his honoured self, he would permit the hope of 
 being admitted hereafter into the kingdom of 
 heaven. . 
 
 That he was not subject to one of the weaknesses 
 incidental to humanity I am willing to admit, for 
 no smile crossed his dark face during the ludicrous, 
 though trifling, episode which occurred during the 
 service, and which I shall relate for the possible 
 entertainment of my readers. 
 
 We — namely, that very small " remnant " of 
 a Protestant congregation — had just taken our 
 places, and were, with due reverence, hearing our- 
 selves exhorted to our duties as "dearly beloved 
 brethren " by the dark-browed missionary, when a 
 dismal wail, as hollow-sounding as it was unex- 
 pected, echoed through the church. It was not in 
 
THE *' BLACK LITTLE COW." 275 
 
 human nature to resist turning round, in order to 
 discover, if possible, the cause of the outcry. A 
 very simple one it proved, being neither more nor 
 less than the low of an animal common enough in 
 the country, but an unusual visitant to a place of 
 worship. Walking along the aisle, with solemn step 
 and slow, came the " small black little cow," the 
 good "poor man's baste," whose road had been 
 mistaken, and who came (a not too well fed convert) 
 to raise her voice among those of the reformed 
 religion. 
 
 It was a ludicrous, and yet a solemn affair, both 
 in the ingress and the exit of the patient-looking 
 animal, yet we all kept our countenances demurely 
 during her short visit ; nor was it till we listened, 
 as we left the building, to the comments of those 
 outside, that we indulged in a passing fit of merri- 
 ment. 
 
 " Bedad, Thady, but that's a great joomper en- 
 tirely," said a Papistical peasant who, on his return 
 from his own prayers, had been informed by a 
 friend of what had occurred. " Whose cow is it at 
 all?" 
 
 "It isn't mysel' as knows," answered Thady, 
 sulkily. 
 
 "It's hersel '11 be having the name, by the blessing 
 
 T 2 
 
276 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 of God," continued the first speaker, who seemed 
 bent on being provoking. "And shure it's the 
 minister '11 be putting the same in the retoorns to 
 the society." 
 
 " Ah, musha, thin, bad manners to you," retorted 
 Thady, " an' it's long before a Catholic cow will be 
 going to the prayers of the likes of yc." 
 
 There seemed — though it is possible I might have 
 been mistaken — no real reverence amongst any of the 
 church-goers ; nor could we wonder at the same 
 when we heard, from the best and most undeniable 
 authority, how little there was to respect in the 
 character of the man who had been sent to preach 
 the Gospel in that priest-ruled land. It was another 
 instance of the truth of Edward's previous remarks 
 on the little caution that was displayed in the 
 selection of those whose every word and deed should 
 be above reproach. 
 
 " But they are not all so unfortunately chosen," 
 pleaded Bertha; "for even during my short expe- 
 rience, I have met with more than one willing and 
 useful servant of his Maker, — ^men whose objects 
 were simply to do good in their vocation and 
 ministry, and who preached, without reference to 
 individual creeds, the plainly understood duties to 
 God and to our neighbour." 
 
ALONG THE COAST. 277 
 
 *" Slave to no sect, who takes no private road, 
 But looks througli nature up to nature's God ! ' 
 
 quoted Edward. " But I fear, dear Bertha," he 
 added, "that the good which such missionaries as you 
 have mentioned might effect, is entirely neutralised 
 by the obligation they are under to subscribe to the 
 rules of a set of men, who (well meaning as they 
 doubtless are) can only be properly described as 
 bigoted and short-sighted in the extreme. Oh ! for 
 the days when a spirit of love shall be the guiding 
 one, and when righteousness and peace shall go 
 hand m hand to comfort and to save those that are 
 walking in darkness and in error 1 " 
 
 The time we had yet to spend together was 
 growing short, and Edward had many business con- 
 cerns to occupy his attention; nevertheless we 
 resolved to devote one day to an investigation of 
 the peculiarly neglected country that lies along the 
 shore towards the little town of N . 
 
 We had ordered a carriage to be in readiness for 
 our use, and in it, on a clear, fresh September 
 morning, we set forth on our expedition. 
 
 The road, where it runs along a narrow inlet of 
 the sea, traverses a beautiful portion of the country ; 
 nor are there, I think, many views on this pictu- 
 resque coast more worthy of admiration than the 
 
278 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 heath-covered Pass of Moirhany. It is a very 
 narrow defile between mountains clothed with the 
 tall and rare plant known as the Mediterranean 
 heath, and along the winding road you come upon 
 many a little lovely dell half choked with the rich 
 deep foliage of the waving heather. 
 
 Anything approaching to the evident misery of 
 the population in this district it would be hard to 
 conceive. There was no attempt at disguise or 
 concealment, but, on the contrary, from out the 
 wretched tenants' hovels — the dark smoky sties 
 on the decaying thatch of which grass and weeds 
 were flourishing, there rushed multitudes of mendi- 
 cants, boys and girls (some of them indeed no longer 
 children), who, in every phase of quasi nudity, sup- 
 plicated clamorously for alms. It was a heart- 
 moving sight, that of the lank bare limbs of the 
 young Christian savages, whose almost only garment 
 was their ragged shirt, and to whom shame seemed 
 a thing unknown. 
 
 " Whose property is this?" asked Edward, of our 
 better informed friend ; " and who is the guilty 
 individual who is morally responsible for this des- 
 perate degree of degradation ? " 
 
 " I grieve to say that the landlord who takes 
 rent from these wretched beings is an Englishman — 
 
DOWN IN THE WORLD. 279 
 
 at least, I have been told so, but it is possible that I 
 have been misinformed. It is indeed a foul disgrace 
 to our countryman that he should be lord of such a 
 land as this, for there can be no self-deception here. 
 On other estates, even on the arid seaboard, a sem- 
 blance of well-doing might, and does, deceive many 
 a generous-hearted landlord into the belief that there 
 exists amongst his tenantry no real distress ; but here 
 such a plea for blindness can neither be offered nor 
 accepted." 
 
 " And you, who have lived amongst them, Jcnow of 
 a certainty that the reports of the increasing distress 
 of this part of the country are not exaggerated?" 
 inquired Fairholme. 
 
 " I wish I could answer your question in the 
 negative, but it is impossible ; for distress — abject and 
 apparently irremediable distress — is increasing day by 
 day. A few years ago — some six, perhaps — there 
 was a something that looked like a sign of better 
 times among the poorer tenantry. At the fairs they 
 might be seen, with their little bag of money in their 
 hand, ready to purchase a * baste ' of some kind — a 
 few lambs, perhaps, or a pig or two, as the case 
 might be. Now all this has changed : the fairs are 
 deserted, for the purse is empty ; and not only that, 
 but the * bastes ' are no longer to be seen in the 
 
280 THE CRUISE OF THE ' HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 little holdings, for they have been * driven ' for rent 
 and rates, or sold to supply the immediate necessities 
 of the hungry ones at home." 
 
 "And with all this the landlords refuse to see 
 their true interest in the matter," said I ; " nor does 
 it seem possible to convince them that a pauperised 
 tenantry is a curse both to the land and to them- 
 selves." 
 
 " It is a curse, too," rejoined Audaine, " which falls 
 upon so many, and in ways so various. The shop- 
 keepers in the small towns feel it terribly, and are in 
 this part of the country becoming rapidly involved 
 in the common ruin. They struggle against their 
 difficulties as long as struggling can avail, and many 
 (in the hope that the potato crop will enable the 
 peasant to repay the loan) supply him with food for 
 his family's support. But, alas ! there comes a bad 
 season, a failure of the crops, no money either for 
 the rent or for the debt, and all go to ruin together. 
 The state of things is bad enough, I can assure 
 you, now; but if another inclement season comes 
 *atop of them,' God bless the destitute tenantry, 
 especially in the ever raining districts of the 
 west!" 
 
 "God help them, indeed,", repeated Edward, 
 solemnly; " for the shelter of the ' Union ' is all that 
 
ABSENTEEISM. 281 
 
 m their need will be offered tliem by man ! '" In 
 regard, however, to the shopkeepers, I must confess 
 that their keeping their heads above water at all 
 has always to me been matter of surprise ; for 
 whence do they draw their profits ? and whence 
 comes the Httle money that circulates amongst 
 them ? " 
 
 " You may well ask," said Gascoigne ; " and it 
 is a question which I should be glad to put to 
 every Irish landlord who spends the rent money 
 paid by the neediest of tenantry on a soil that is not 
 theirs. There are laws for greater potentates — laws 
 which force them to reside on their dominions, and 
 spend their revenue within its precincts ; but for 
 these there is no legislation save that of conscience, 
 the dictates of which it is so easy both to brave and 
 to evade." 
 
 " Yet many landlords live on their estates," 
 remarked Bertha, " and spend both time and money 
 in endeavouring to better (in every way) the con- 
 dition of their tenantry. Surely those who do so 
 
 * To any one wlio has well considered the subject, the immense advan- 
 tage of emigration over Union support must be evident. For the sum of 
 j&ve pounds the passage of a man across the Atlantic, together with his 
 food during the voyage, may be provided ; whereas his actual "support" 
 (we say nothing of his clothing, fuel, &c.) cannot be estimated at a less 
 cost than two shillings per week in the Union, that is to him a place so 
 replete with the horrors of imprisonment and disgrace. 
 
282 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 should not be joined with the rest in one common 
 blame. Surely they deserve to meet with gratitude 
 and affection from those whose interests they watch 
 over." 
 
 " You are right," replied Philip ; " and that, indi- 
 vidually, they do meet with such returns I have 
 little doubt, but at the same time I must maintain 
 that individual feeling goes little way in counteracting 
 the morbid, and now chronic, sense of wrong induced 
 by the vast and ever growing pauperism of the 
 country. You must, as I said, recollect the history 
 of these people, — that for them there has never been 
 a bright reality, — nor (eager by nature, and excitable 
 though they be) has Imagination^ with its comrade 
 Hope (those powers Hhat first unsensuahse the 
 dark mind '), ever softened the character or raised 
 the aspirations of the ' masses.' " 
 
 " They certainly are also, by nature, a curiously 
 mentally-constructed people. Kind-hearted — if we 
 may judge of them by their tenderness to their 
 families ; generous — in proof of which we have but 
 to count the sums yearly transmitted by successful 
 emigrants to their friends at home ; hospitable — for 
 no wandering beggar but finds a welcome and a 
 meal in the poor man's house ; and brave — for in 
 the world there are not better soldiers, either in the 
 
AGKARIAN OUTEAGES. 283 
 
 hour of battle or in the still more trying periods of 
 hardship and privation. And yet, with all these 
 noble and not-to-be-denied characteristics, see how 
 vile a reputation they have earned for themselves 
 by the commission of the most cowardly crimes, 
 viz., the cold-blooded murder of the defenceless, and 
 the dooming to sudden despair the widow and the 
 orphan." 
 
 " The crime, too, is so general," I said ; "for all 
 who either shelter the criminal, or are silent as to 
 his whereabouts, are parties to the deed." 
 
 " The fact is," rejoined Philip, *' that, very far 
 from considering the assassination of a landlord or 
 an agent as a crime, the peasantry view the deed 
 as a noble resistance to oppression and tyranny. 
 There is, I suspect, much of the same feeling of 
 enthusiastic admiration bestowed upon the perpe- 
 trator of an Agrarian outrage as in former days was 
 lavished by those who — 
 
 * Cursed in darkness, and made wild by want,' 
 
 looked on with glowing self-congratulation at the 
 patriotism of a Brutus or a Corday. Whilst the 
 murderer is in hiding, they feed, shelter, and protect 
 him ; and should justice succeed in bringing him to 
 a well-merited punishment, he dies — accordmg to 
 
284 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 their belief, a martjT to a noble cause — the cause of 
 the feeble against the strong, of the oppressed against 
 their tyrants ! " 
 
 " And the priests," remarked Edward, " also 
 undoubtedly deserve to bear a portion of the odium 
 that rests on the doers of these deeds of blood ; for, 
 though I am far from supposing that they are the 
 instigators of the crimes, yet, without doubt, they 
 sedulously keep alive the feeling that leads to their 
 commission. Hatred to landlords has become a 
 national feeling — ^general and all-pervading; it is 
 in the air the peasants breathe, it is inculcated both 
 in the details and the endurance of misery; and 
 whilst their choice of evils {g.ood they never hope 
 for) lies between exile and the poorhouse, landlord 
 murder will be hailed as a virtue, and its punish- 
 ment will be recorded in their traditions as the 
 martyrdom of a patriot." 
 
 "It is a difficult question to deal with," said 
 Philip, — " perhaps the most difficult (though for its 
 being so, whom have we to thank ?) — namely, what is 
 to be done in cases such as we have been discuss- 
 ing, — for eviction must apparently be the consequence 
 of non-payment of rents, and such fearful aggres- 
 sions must of course be visited with due retribution ; 
 and their repetition, if possible, prevented. Pre- 
 
HOW TO DEAL WITH THEM. 285 
 
 vention is better than cure^ even when the cure is 
 easily to be effected ; but in the contrary case, the 
 value of the motto is still more evident. That the 
 rents are often (especially in the more weather- 
 exposed and least fertile districts, and in the case of 
 the smaller tenantry) far too high, is, I believe, an 
 unfortunate fact ; whilst I have every reason to sup- 
 pose that the exaction of the rent is frequently made 
 in a manner so hard and unconciliating, that it is ill 
 calculated either to win the affections, or stimulate 
 the exertions of the peasantry. Words kindly 
 spoken, and encouragement cheerfully given, go far 
 with a people who possess great natural sensibility 
 and tact, and whose mercurial and ardent feelings 
 would, if properly directed, lead them far away from 
 the commission of any of the grosser sins." 
 
 " But, those sins once committed," asked Edward, 
 " what measures would you advise to be taken in 
 the districts where (as is ever the case with crime), 
 one dire offence seems only the prelude to another 
 perhaps still more horrible?" 
 
 " I would recommend no leniency," answered 
 Gascoigne, after a pause which was evidently given 
 to serious reflection ; "for in dealing with these 
 agrarian homicides it is of more than doubtful good. 
 Better (though I confess the doctrine has a barba- 
 
286 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 rous sound), better that one possibly innocent man 
 should perish than that the dangerous fact of the 
 liberation of a guilty one should be blazoned 
 throughout the country ! The award, too, of punish- 
 ment for unsuccessful, though attempted murder, 
 should be far gi'eater than it is ; and, above all, I 
 would recommend that the police force stationed in 
 the dangerous districts sliould not he formed of 
 IrisJimeny 
 
 " Surely," said I, *' you do not suspect that ^ fine 
 body of men ' of any participation in the crimes 
 that it is their duty to search into ? I have always 
 heard " 
 
 " That they were above suspicion," interrupted 
 Gascoigne ; *' nor have I any reason to suppose that 
 you have been wrongly informed. At the same 
 time it is only necessary to remember an Irishman's 
 natural love of popularity, and his hatred to the 
 rdle of * informer,' to be convinced how far better 
 it would be were the law officials natural enemies, 
 instead of friends, to those who harbour criminals 
 and defy the law." 
 
 *' It is awful to think," said Bertha, " that such 
 precautions should be necessary, and such severity 
 warrantable, in a country so close to home, and 
 which ought to be even as ice are ; nor can I help 
 
OYEE THE SEA. 287 
 
 believing that the fault lies, as you have said, as 
 much in the rulers of the land as in the people they 
 have so thoroughly misgoverned!" 
 
 " And this being so," said Fairholme, " and the 
 evil having taken so deep a root, do not you agree 
 with me in thinking that to remove the people (as far 
 as such a measure is possible) from the soil where 
 their prejudices have grown up so thick and strong, 
 would be an inestimable benefit both to the owners 
 of the land and the tillers of the same ? The Irish 
 (strong as is their attachment to home) have no dis- 
 like to, or dread of, emigration, especially when they 
 go in numbers, and they leave no * near friends ' be- 
 hind them. It would be better economy, too, for 
 all hands, to let them go (their passage paid, and a 
 blessing on their heads) to other and happier lands, 
 where, instead of there being (as at home) two 
 perishing souls to the acre, their labour would yield 
 them a plenteous return, and their children after 
 them would, probably, as denizens of another coun- 
 try, prosper in the land of their adoption." 
 
 " And for the landlords, they would see, at last, 
 that the feeding of a * beast ' on the land for which 
 the miserable forty shillings rent was previously 
 exacted, yields a far larger and more sure return, 
 to say nothmg of the escape from that wearing 
 
288 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 anxiety which every feeUng heart must undergo, 
 when he dwells upon his tenants' wants and his 
 own heavy responsibilities." 
 
 We had proceeded so far in a discussion which to 
 many will, I fear, have seemed both long and tedious, 
 when, on descending the side of a rather steep hill, 
 
 a portion of the pretty town of W broke upon 
 
 our view. 
 
 " What a lovely country it is," said Edward, 
 " and how much of varied beauty have we, in these 
 short three days, been called upon to admire! 
 Nature, too, has blessed the inhabitants of the land 
 (even as you have said) with noble hearts and kindly 
 instincts. From the highest even to the lowest we 
 
 can trace these gracious gifts, and yet But why 
 
 revert, in our regret for the melancholy present^ to 
 aggravating reflections on what might have been? 
 For me, Ireland, with all her faults, will ever have 
 an absorbing interest. It is the birthplace of the 
 mother whose gentle voice and tender smile soothed 
 my sickly childhood ; and when Memory, in 
 the far-off country where we are bound, will 
 (like a spirit sweeping over * Time's wild harp ') 
 make sweet and mournful music, then, dearest 
 Bertha, we will breathe a prayer for the land 
 that we have left, and for the kind, warm hearts 
 
SECOND SIGHT. 289 
 
 to wliom we shall have bid, perhaps, a last fare- 
 well." 
 
 I watched the countenance of my dear old friend 
 as he uttered the concluding words, and on his 
 broad brow and deep-set eyes there was a look so 
 earnest that even his lineaments seemed speaking; 
 I noticed, besides, a strange rhythm in his sad words, 
 as though he were one of those gifted mortals who 
 are " cradled into poetry" by sorrow or by wrong; 
 and to whom it is given to divine the secrets of a 
 mysterious and darkly-looming future. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 DEPARTURE — PHILIP GASCOIGNE'S PHILSOOPHY- — ,. 
 KILMAGRASTHA CASTLE. 
 
 The autumn months had nearly passed away, and 
 dreary November, with its chilling winds arid cloudy 
 skies, was "upon" us, when the day arrived for 
 Edward Fairholme and his wife to bid farewell to 
 the cottage by the loch side, and to the scenes which 
 were endeared to us all by many a pleasant memory. 
 I will not dwell upon our parting, which was, in 
 truth, but a temporary one, for we had engaged to 
 meet again at Queenstown, to which port they were 
 to proceed by land ; whilst Gascoigne and I had 
 agreed to sail round the coast in the "Humming 
 Bird" to the place of our friends' embarkation for 
 the New World. 
 
 The weather for the time of year was very mild 
 and temperate ; and as the voyage, under only 
 tolerably favouring circumstances, was not likely to 
 be a long one, the lateness of the season was 
 
A DEAD CALM. 291 
 
 forgotten whilst we made our preparations for 
 departure. 
 
 A favourable breeze from the south-east carried 
 us (on the day succeeding that on which our friends 
 left the cottage) down two-thirds of the lovely bay, 
 and then, infinitely to our discomfiture, the wind fell 
 suddenly, and we were left becalmed upon the placid 
 waters. It seemed, however, as though a kindly 
 fate had provided that our last impressions of a loca- 
 lity which possesses such endless varieties of beauty 
 should be associated with all that was melancholy 
 and tender ; for never did I see the aspect of both 
 earth and water more bountifully crowned with 
 loveliness. Everywhere, indeed, did Nature appeal 
 to us for admiration and for wonder. There was 
 upon the sea (as we lay beside the grand old moun- 
 tain king) not a ripple or a curl ; and in the un- 
 dimmed watery mirror we could see the rocks and 
 yellow seaweed — the bird with snowy plumage 
 perched motionless upon the overhanging rock, and 
 every leaf of verdant ivy that clung to the dark 
 grey stones, as clearly as those seen by us on land ! 
 Where, we asked ourselves, was the line which 
 parted things tangible from those unreal ? For as 
 golden seemed the ocean leaves that grew beneath 
 the sea as those which fringed the rocky line that 
 
 u 2 
 
292 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 bordered it ; and not less green was every blade of 
 grass we looked on in the emerald depths, than the 
 herbage cropped by the quiet sheep on the steep 
 hill-side. Verily, it was a wondrous sight, and 
 matched well the solemn stillness which, as is for 
 ever the case in these almost depopulated wastes, 
 was only broken by the plaintive whispers of the 
 lonely curlew or by the flutter of the low-flying 
 cormorant as it darted swiftly past our little vessel. 
 
 As Collett had foretold, we lay there motionless 
 for two hours and more, for there was no wind till 
 the tide began to flow ; but then it rose suddenly, 
 and soon carried us swiftly beyond the harbour's 
 mouth, during which time there was silence between 
 us, as we cast many a lingering look at the glorious 
 mountains we were leaving. Miles away they w^ere, 
 those towering summits that look for ever down that 
 curious inland sea; and over all the now dark 
 canopy of the November 'sky fell heavy as a 
 pall. 
 
 "There's bad weather coming, sir," said Job, 
 rather anxiously, as I thought, as he cast his eye to 
 windward. " Uncommon dirty sky over them moun- 
 tains to the east." 
 
 "The wind's pretty fair for us, though," said 
 Gascoigne, looking round him ; but even as lie spoke 
 
THE WIND RISES. 293 
 
 Collett gave a sudden order (which was as instantly 
 obeyed) to " haul up the tack." 
 
 It was well he did so, for a tremendous squall that 
 he had seen approaching us (as though with giant 
 strides) over the mk-black water, struck the little 
 cutter heavily on her side, and lowered her in the 
 water to her bulwark's edge. On she rushed, half 
 buried in the sea that streamed upon her deck, 
 but flying through the water with the speed of 
 steam. For a few moments only this wild gust 
 lasted, and during the momentary lull that followed 
 reefs were tied and all made ready for the coming 
 storm. How grand it was, and how magnificently 
 the thunder boomed from crag to crag of the 
 stupendous rocks around! The lightning flashed 
 from out the heavens, and played upon the shrouds 
 of our frail barque, while the rain, descending like 
 a waterspout, almost hid the patient Collett from 
 cm- view, as from the shelter of the companion we 
 gazed out upon the storm. 
 
 • At last it subsided, that most unlooked-for tempest, 
 and the clouds gradually clearing away, we found 
 that we had left the mountains of the " Wild West" 
 behind us, and that we w^re advancing, well and 
 steadily, on our course. 
 
 It was decreed, however, that we should not 
 
294. THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 pursue that course without let or hindrance ; for, ere 
 another half hour had elapsed, the wind chopped 
 suddenly round, and a change of purpose, at least 
 for the nonce, was absolutely necessary. 
 . "We have plenty of time before us," suggested 
 my companion, " and as the wind is falling, let us 
 
 land at T . It is a very curious old place, that 
 
 castle, lying half in ruins among the hills; and I 
 have an especial interest in it, as it belonged to a 
 member of my mother's family — a disreputable old 
 fellow enough — whose widow, for he has been dead 
 something less than six months, has announced her. 
 intention of tardily providing an heir to the estate." 
 
 I had been told something of this story from 
 Fairholme, and having been strongly impressed by 
 the evil I had heard of the intriguing Chieftainess, 
 who was a woman of low degree, and mercenary in 
 the extreme, I could not help expressing to Gascoigne 
 my envy of his stoical philosophy. 
 
 " For," I said, " I understand that, failing the 
 birth of that child, you will be the heir; and I con- 
 fess that, though perhaps not much more avaricious 
 than the generality of my species, I could not, were 
 I in your place, contemplate without annoyance the 
 probability of that woman's son reigning in the 
 ancient castle of my ancestors." 
 
THE OLD CASTLE. 295 
 
 Gascoigne laughed. "If you liad seen more of 
 Irish dominions," he said, "you would scarcely 
 think them incompatible with some lack of dignity, 
 either in the person or the family of their o^vners. 
 I should have been happy had my wonderful uncle 
 been still alive, to have introduced you to the * fair ' 
 estate in which I have a reversionary interest. 
 There exists many a legend of its ancient greatness, 
 and on the land are some old ragged true retainers, 
 who, with the never dying instinct of their country, 
 and drawing still, though with feeble breath, on their 
 inexhaustible store of softest 'sawder,' will tell you of 
 the days when the grand O'Shaughnesseys held high 
 sway in Kilmagrastha. When, on the now black 
 and treeless bogs — 
 
 The war note peaVd through the gorges green, 
 And the black pines echoed the mourner's keen ; ' 
 
 and when, in the wide old halls, there was a 
 welcome and a meal for all who chose to ask for 
 hospitality." 
 
 "And an orthodox Banshee outside to prepare 
 the family for the twelvemonth's mourning for the 
 head of the family ? " 
 
 " Exactly. There is a certain old Conn Murphy, 
 who is a dead hand at that sort of thing. Full of 
 
UTTTT,r,rT^T« T^TT^T^ " 
 
 296 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD 
 
 poetry, too, the old fellow is, and will tell you tales 
 without end of the wild spirits by which the water 
 and the land around is haunted. His cowardice 
 passes all belief, and if he has the remotest idea that 
 the great sea-horse, who inhabits the lake before the 
 castle, will raise even a hair of his long white mane 
 above the surface of the water, nothing will induce 
 the pusillanimous Conn, who, by the way, is by 
 profession a Keeper, to show the tip of his thin nose 
 beyond the castle gates." 
 
 "Is there much appearance of poverty on the 
 estate ? " I asked. " Old O'Shaughnessey, I con- 
 clude, took little personal interest in his people's 
 welfare ; but to a man of his fortune, it must have 
 been so easy to employ a sensible and active agent — 
 one capable of carrying out improvements — so easy 
 to open his eyes, and see that his wishes Avere 
 obeyed " 
 
 " But, at the same time, so extremely difficult for 
 a man of seventy-five — a very useless old man too, 
 for he was verging on second childhood — to contend 
 successfully against the will of a woman com- 
 paratively young, and of so determined a nature as 
 is the second Lady O'Shaughnessey. He has spent 
 next to nothing on his estates for the last ten years, 
 and all this penuriousness is her doing, for he mar- 
 
LADY O'SHAUGHNESSEY. 297 
 
 ried without a settlement, and as the estates are 
 strictly entailed, she could only save out of the 
 rents for her future provision." 
 
 " Which she must have done to some purpose," I 
 remarked. " But how about the will? Nothing has 
 publicly transpired concerning it, and the accumu- 
 lations were, I heard, considerable." 
 
 " There is a mystery about the whole affair," said 
 Gascoigne in reply, " which does not seem likely to 
 be fathomed. She — Lady O'Shaughnessey, I mean 
 — has had two of her relations staying with her for 
 some time past; a brother and a sister they are, 
 two as clever intriguers as I ever met with. The 
 brother is, or rather was, a lawyer's clerk ; a little 
 dapper fellow, neat in his dress, sharp as a fish- 
 hook, and about as dangerous to meddle with. But 
 enough of the du'ty tools, for the very thought of 
 them convinces me that I am not as philosophic in 
 this matter as you imagine. It will be hard to turn 
 over the old retainers to the tender mercies of such 
 a dynasty as the anticipated new one ; and, besides, 
 there is a pang in the reflection that, arid, wild, and 
 miserable-looking as is the old estate of moor and 
 mountain, I may never look again upon its rugged 
 features, nor carry out one of the many plans I had 
 devised for its improvement ! " 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 i, V." But," I asked, " would you, in the event of your 
 succeeding to those estates, be willing to live upon 
 them? Would you have no fears for your own 
 safety whilst carrying out the theories you have 
 advocated? Tliink how many have entered upon 
 their successions with the same intentions, the same 
 hopes, and remember how signal has. been their 
 failure ! " 
 
 oi" We all think ourselves wiser than those who 
 have trod the same path before us," said Philip, 
 -.' and I don't set up for an exception to the rule. 
 The number of those, however, who have failed 
 antecedent to our attempts, is greatly in favour of 
 Qur chances of success. We can, if we will, avoid 
 the rocks on which they have split, and the currents 
 in which they have been engulphed. I do not say 
 that the character of the Irish, as it has been formed 
 by adverse circumstances, is an agreeable one to 
 deal with ; and it is far pleasanter to do the neces- 
 sary charities for the poor of the country at a dis- 
 tance and by deputy. But my experience tells me 
 that here^ whatever may be the case in England, 
 affection is not gained, nor allegiance willingly paid, 
 unless intimacy be established. It is not enough 
 to send money to the poor; it is not enough to 
 pay regal-like visits to their cottages, wearing an 
 
AFFABILITY. 299 
 
 msulting look of prosperity ; and leading perhaps by 
 the hand (a sight which I have more than once wit- 
 nessed) a magnificent young heir to the glories of 
 castle, mountain, bogs, and cabins." 
 
 " The which young gentleman," said I, " clad in 
 his lordly ' braverie,' is in mocking contrast to the 
 naked misery of those, at whose thresholds (for it is 
 not every aristocratic nasal organ that can endure 
 the complicated noxious effluvia of an Irish hovel) 
 he is brought to show himself." 
 
 " Yes ; it certainly is not by visits such as these 
 that the affections of the poor are gained ; and the 
 quick-witted Irish especially see at a glance that 
 condescension is intended, and are aware that the 
 gracious smile of affability conjured up to the coun-r 
 tenance, is a tribute to the visitor's own powers of 
 ingratiating himself, and not the genuine evidence of 
 a kindly heart. No ; the way to gain the hearts 
 of the poor is to make them feel at liome toith you^ 
 and that is a result forbidden by our conventional 
 laws of dignity and self-respect." 
 
 "They are difficult people to *get hold of,' if 
 I may be allowed the expression," was my next 
 remark; "difficult to understand, and difficult to 
 theorise on." 
 
 "As is the case with all natures that have 
 
300 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 strongly opposing characteristics," responded Gas- 
 eoigne, " a complication of disorders, each of which 
 requires a widely different mode of treatment, na- 
 turally decreases the chances of a cure ; and so it is 
 with the Irish peasant, who is at one and the same 
 time hospitable and penurious^ — brave and cowardly 
 — reckless and religious. Many of their bad quali- 
 ties result from the good that have run into the 
 madness of extremes, and than these there are few 
 things more dangerous and difficult to deal with." 
 
 "And," said I, "is it not remarkable, that while 
 striving (and it is to be feared in no impartial spirit) 
 to account for the peculiar species of homicide which 
 from time to time has disgraced Ireland, so little 
 should ever be said of the nature of the people, and 
 the way in which that nature is worked upon by the 
 singularities of their misgovernment. The columns 
 of the English daily papers teem with accounts 
 of murders — murders committed in the ' open day ' 
 (that dire aggravation of crime in this country), 
 murders on feeble women, on the old, the unof- 
 fending, and the helpless — murders committed for 
 the gratification of the lowest passions of our nature, 
 for greed of gold, and, in some cases, from the 
 mere love of shedduig blood alone. But for all 
 these horrifying details, there is no wholesale con- 
 
ENGLISH CRIMES. 301 
 
 demnatiori of the community at large. Murder Is 
 not described as the ^fashion and the delight' of 
 England. We are not told that * the society of the 
 land is diseased/ or that a ' reign of terror ' is 
 desolating the country. But for Ireland, and for 
 the far resounding aggressions against the higher 
 ranks that there are sometimes rife, too much odium 
 cannot be poured, and too many anathemas cannot 
 be hurled ! Well can one understand the detesta- 
 tion of a country where the lives of the rich are not 
 in safety, and often must we all have ,felt a sudden 
 glow of anger against the assassin, whose victim fell 
 a sacrifice probably to the offences of a class ; but 
 for all this, and for all the brilliant weapons of satire, 
 contempt, and aversion, which in the English press 
 are brought to bear upon these people — for all that 
 we are told of the cessation of religious differences, 
 and of the total absence of cause for the outrages 
 which we all must so deeply mourn over, few can 
 deny the fact that for a chronic malady, there must 
 be a long-standing and a deep-laid cause, and that 
 for that chronic malady the great cure consists (to 
 pursue the medical simile) in the relief of trrita" 
 tionr 
 
 "He was an ingenious landlord," remarked Gas- 
 coigne, with an apparent wish to enliven the subject, 
 
302 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 " who informed his tenantry that in the event of his 
 death by violence, every one of them would, by the 
 provisions of his will, be summarily ejected. What 
 care all the fellows must have taken of him ! He 
 might have had a body-guard of the * finest pisantry 
 in the world ' for nothing. I should recommend my 
 Lady O'Shaughnessey's relations, if they take up 
 their residence eventually at the old castle, to adopt 
 the same plan. They'll requu:e some sort of pro- 
 tection, I fancy, for I can hardly imagine the little 
 iattomey going about with armour under his tight- 
 fitting garments. From what I can learn, though, 
 he will be a match for them in cunning, however he 
 may fall short in physical courage." 
 
 By the time that Philip had ceased speaking, the 
 Yacht had come to an anchor, and the boat being 
 lowered we were rowed on shore. 
 
 The landing was effected at a small pier or jetty, 
 built for the convenience of the fishing-boats, many 
 of which belonged to the inhabitants of the village 
 — a collection of nmd hovels, which had been 
 visible from the sea. It was a wild scene enough, 
 •and the signs of human life were few, although 
 along the shore the fires lighted at intervals betrayed 
 the presence of the kelp-burners. 
 
 The castle 'which mtr/ht ohq day be Philip's was a 
 
CASTLES IN THE AIK. 303 
 
 half-ruined-looking building, standing, as most Irish 
 castles do, close to the cabins of the family serfs. 
 
 "It is not a particularly cheerful or commodious- 
 looking residence," remarked Philip, as we passed 
 the gates. " But the income wrung from the poor 
 tenantry is a large one ; and before the old man 
 married, and when — when I was engaged to poor 
 Edward's cousin — I used to build many a pleasanter 
 Castle in the air than that one looks on land — 
 castles in which the poor girl took the prominent 
 place — and we were to be as happy as wealth and 
 consideration could make us. But everything has 
 changed since those days, and I have learned to 
 value at its just worth the homage and the lip-deep 
 attachment everywhere paid to, and felt for, the 
 owners of rank and riches; and whilst I have seen 
 my fellow-creatures bending lowly before those in 
 power, I have convinced myself, that however 
 apparent was their admiration and devotion, they 
 were in reality anything but friendly to the men 
 by whose position relative to themselves they were 
 kept in an attitude so cramped and unnatural. 
 There are of course moments when the old man 
 (like the oppressive elderly gentleman who clung so 
 closely round Sindbad's neck) is hard enough to put 
 away ; and in those moments my appreciation of 
 
" TTTTTir^TTT^T^ T^TT^T^ " 
 
 304 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD 
 
 the pleasures and advantages whicli riches can 
 bestow, are great as ever. But in my yearly more 
 frequent lucid intervals — in the many hours when I 
 can enjoy the actual present, with no intrusive 
 longings after the uncertain future — ^the power is 
 mine to think with actual gratitude of the poverty 
 by which I have been enabled to test the sincerity 
 of some human beings ; and I have ceased to long 
 for the wealth which would probably have rendered 
 me distrustful of their truth." 
 
 It was in converse such as this that we whiled 
 away the hours ; nor did the time seem long (at 
 least to me) that we thus passed together. Gas- 
 coigne — as I could perceive — was far from being in 
 his usual spirits ; but for his comparative depression 
 I could fully account, and as completely sympathise 
 with the regretful feelings he expressed when 
 dwelling on the approaching departure of our mutual 
 friends. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 CYRIL VERNON " VENGEANCE IS MINE." 
 
 On the morrow, the small amount of wind which 
 blew being still unfavourable, we decided on walking 
 along the shore, a distance of some half-a-dozen 
 Irish miles, to a small town, the property of the 
 O'Shaughnesseys, which lies inland a short distance 
 only from the sea. The day was only tolerably 
 fine, for occasionally the fine mountain mist 
 thickened to a brisk rain, and soaked into our 
 garments ; still, however, we continued our walk, 
 while Philip was led, by I know not what impulse, 
 to dilate more largely than he had hitherto done, 
 upon the sad events which had occurred at West- 
 field, and on the gross turpitude of Father 'Do- 
 novan's conduct. 
 
 The subject was to both of us an engrossing 
 one, and so entirely did it occupy us that we 
 came suddenly, and without having been previously 
 aware of his approach, upon a human figure, walk- 
 
306 THE CRUISE OF THE *' HUMMING BIRD.' 
 
 ing, as we ourselves were doing, leisurely along the 
 sands. 
 
 At that moment the rain was descending heavily, 
 but the pedestrian, whose hat was drawn low over 
 his eyes, seemed neither to heed nor care for the 
 pelting of the shower, for he walked slowly on, 
 with a large umbrella carried unopened in his 
 hand. 
 
 "What a strange looking figure," exclaimed 
 Philip, " and how singularly he walks ! " 
 
 We were by this time within a few yards of the 
 object of our curiosity, when Gascoigne, suddenly 
 stopping, cried out loudly — 
 
 " Good God ! Mark ! It is Cyril— Cyril Ver- 
 non ! " and having so said, he hurried forwards to 
 greet the brother of his* lost love. 
 
 No glad response, however, followed on the part 
 of the unhappy young man whom he had accosted ; 
 but only a blank look, which proved that he had not 
 recognised his friend, and a shudder, as though of 
 fear, as Gascoigne placed his hand upon his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Cyril — dear old fellow — don't you recollect me ? 
 I am Philip Gascoigne ; and Eva — where is Eva ? " 
 he asked, with what was evidently a painful effort, 
 but he seemed to think the name might arouse in 
 
A MIND o'eRTHROWN. 307 
 
 the unfortunate Cyril some sleeping memory of the 
 past. 
 
 It was all in vain, however, nor could even a 
 syllable be extracted from the poor fellow, till the 
 name of Father 0' Donovan, which I rashly uttered, 
 caused him to shiver from head to foot, while he 
 commenced in hurried tones one of the penitential 
 prayers in Latin. 
 
 "What shall we do with him?" said Philip, in 
 despair. " He looks half dead with cold and wet ! If 
 we could only get him into a house where he might 
 warm and dry himself." 
 
 " Not a house," muttered Cyril, " not a house. 
 Father 0' Donovan ordered me never to go into a 
 house ; and I 've been years walking about up and 
 down — out of doors — always out of doors." 
 
 "Where did you come from last?" asked Philip, 
 pityingly. 
 
 " From the Convent," shouted the poor creature, 
 with a wild, unnatural laugh of triumph ; *' I cheated 
 them all then. It was at the Convent, you know," 
 he added, in a whisper, " that I cut open Edward's 
 arm, but I couldn't get the letters. Father 0' Dono- 
 van keeps them, — ^the letters she wrote to me when 
 I used to sing to her, — sing about the devils, you 
 know, the devils who will come and take me ; but I 
 
 X 2 
 
308 THE CKUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 shall go to her. I shall see lovely women there, 
 
 and get the letters. Ha! ha! ha!" and with 
 
 another horrid laugh, which ended in a still wilder 
 
 scream, he sunk down (before we could arrest his 
 
 fall) in a fit upon the Strand ! 
 
 We lifted him from the ground, and bore him (he 
 
 was scarcely heavier than a child of ten years 
 
 old) to the nearest cottage, which having entered, 
 
 we laid our burthen down upon the straw-covered 
 
 hedstead. 
 
 " Och musha, thin," cried two or three women 
 
 who were crouching about the turf embers ; " Och 
 
 musha, thin, it's desthroyed intirely he is ! " And 
 
 -they were beginning their usual wild, keening cry, 
 
 when I cut it short by asking if there was a doctor 
 
 in the town. 
 
 " Troth and there is not," answered one of the 
 women ; " there's not one in it but a docthor that 
 comes onst a week to the dispensary, and that was 
 yesterday, yer Honour." 
 
 We did what we could for the unhappy victim of 
 Papistical rapacity. We chafed his clay-cold hands 
 between our own, and Philip tried to pour between 
 his clenched teeth a few drops of spirit, from a small 
 flask he had about him. Then Gascoigne hung over 
 him with all a woman's tenderness, as thoughts (I 
 
Cyril's death. 309 
 
 am sure that so it was) of his lost Eva, whom the 
 poor boy so much resembled, came thickly throng- 
 ing back to his oppressed and memory-haunted 
 heart. 
 
 Yes, we did our best for him ; but that best was 
 all in vain, for long before the daylight dawned, 
 and hours before the arrival of the doctor, whom we 
 had sent for, could arrive, the frail and suffering 
 body of poor Cyril Vernon returned " to the earth 
 as it was," and the purified spirit unto God who 
 gave it. 
 
 We buried him next day in the dank and dreary 
 cemetery where the poor of his creed were lying in 
 heaped-up hundreds, and sadly we left him on that 
 desolate shore, alone. 
 
 " Better so," said Philip, as with full hearts we 
 turned away from the place where we had laid him. 
 " He is released from suflfering, and the brother that 
 my poor Eva loved is at rest at last." 
 
 " And Edward Fairholme's search is over," I 
 rejoined. " But, Philip, should we not have 
 apprised him of this ? Should we not have allowed 
 him the choice of following his poor young cousin 
 to the grave ? " 
 
 " To what end ? " answered Gascoigne. " A 
 message to inform him of what has occurred could 
 
810 THE CEUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 but have harassed and distressed him, and he could 
 have done no good. Now we can break the truth 
 to him gently ; and, if I mistake not, when Oswald 
 Tremlett hears of the power evidently possessed 
 by that dangerous priest of injuring his dead 
 mother's reputation, he will deem it wiser to let 
 things remain as they are, and will abandon all 
 thoughts of litigation." 
 
 It was in surmises such as these, and in conjec- 
 tures regarding the Convent from which poor Cyril 
 had escaped, that we were employed during the 
 short time that the voyage to Queenstown occupied. 
 It was a melancholy period, for although Time was 
 doing its work, and reconciling Philip to the loss of 
 his beloved one, yet all his grief-wounds had been 
 re-opened by the melancholy end of Cyril Vernon, 
 and by the associations which the sight of him had 
 re-awakened. 
 
 " So that is Kinsale ? " he said to me, when, after a 
 long survey of the land, he laid down the glass, and 
 turned with a heavy sigh away. 
 
 " Yes ! " said I, " and very soon we shall be with 
 poor Fairholme and his wife again, bearing the 
 intelligence that their exile will no longer be 
 enforced. I confess that I half dread the telling of 
 our news, Gascoigne, for Edward loved poor 
 
THE JESUIT PRIEST. 811 
 
 Cyril dearly, and always indulged in a hope that he 
 would one day see him again, and " 
 
 " Not clothed in priestly garments, but in his 
 right mind," said Philip, with a sad smile. "Ah! 
 how differently all has turned out, and how com- 
 pletely every happy anticipation has been scattered 
 to the winds ! And to think that to the last moment 
 he knew neither of us, and only uttered those few 
 words which will in all probability shield his worst 
 and deadliest enemy from well-merited punish- 
 ment." 
 
 " Hardly so," I said, in rejoinder ; "for even the 
 daring of a Jesuit priest would, I think, fail him, 
 were he to be threatened with the public exposure 
 of his delinquencies. And we have now such strong 
 evidence against him : The assault on Fairholme, 
 and the attack of that poor mad boy, excited into 
 delirium by the terrible influence of his spiritual 
 conscience keeper ; the kidnapping, too (for we can 
 call it by no other name), of his unfortunate victim ; 
 and, last of all, Cyril's miserable death with those 
 condemning words upon his lips. All these circum- 
 stances combined will, I suspect, bring Priest 
 'Donovan to terms, and will induce him to sur- 
 render his ill-gotten gains, including the letters 
 which (if we can place any confidence in the raving 
 
a „^„,,,^,,^ T> 
 
 312 THE CRUISE OF THE HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 assertions of poor Cyril) the villain has retained in 
 his possession." 
 
 "I have little doubt," said Philip, musingly, 
 "that all the information afforded us in those few 
 last sentences which Vernon was able to string 
 together is thoroughly to be relied on, with the 
 exception of the length of time that his wanderings 
 had lasted. It is natural to suppose that O'Donovan, 
 after having reduced his convert to a state of idiocy 
 by his threats, and by the austere habits to which 
 the poor boy had been condemned, kept him closely 
 immured in some convent, whence it was difficult for 
 his victim to escape. I feel almost convinced, too, 
 that amongst the stringent rules laid down by 
 O'Donovan previously to the poor boy's removal to 
 the place of his incarceration, one was, that Cyril 
 should enter no house, — for fear, in all probability, of 
 his making confessions dangerous to the Church, and 
 of his being protected by those who might witness 
 and take compassion on his miserable state." 
 
 " In the meantime," I rejoined, " poor Cyril's 
 weakened mind dwelt, with a pertinacity fully to 
 be accounted for by the absence of other impressions, 
 on the events which immediately preceded what 
 would seem to have been a total failure of his 
 reasoning powers." 
 
VENGEANCE IS MINE. 313 
 
 "True — sadly true, indeed! As for instance, his 
 boyish love and admiration for that vain, foolish Mrs. 
 Tremlett, whose craving after sentiment led her to 
 encourage his passion ; and," continued Gascoigne, 
 thoughtfully, " there was, notwithstanding her forty 
 years, something fascinating to a foolish lad like 
 Cyril in the well-preserved beauty of that middle- 
 aged syren. But, to my thinking, it was the con- 
 stantly-sustained mental struggle in a mind naturally 
 far from strong, which broke down the barriers of 
 reason, and changed poor Eva's harmless young 
 brother into a raving lunatic. God ! " he exclaimed, 
 with solemn earnestness, " if I could see that wicked, 
 dangerous man but once ! Could stand before him 
 face to face, and tax him with his villany ! No 
 hands but mine should inflict his punishment; for 
 what, compared to his deserts, would be the award 
 of the jury which will, in case of a prosecution, find 
 
 him guilty ? and but I am insane to rave in this 
 
 fashion," he added, checking himself, and speaking 
 in a calmer tone, " for vengeance for wrongs so 
 black is in higher and mightier hands than ours; 
 and, either in this world or the next, those whom 
 that merciless and rapacious priest spared not will 
 be fully and satisfactorily avenged." 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ARRIVAL AT QUEENSTOWN FATHER o'dONOVAn's 
 
 ARREST. 
 
 When the "Humming Bird" cast anchor in 
 Queenstown Harbour, only four-and-twenty hours 
 were to elapse before the departure of the steamer 
 which was to convey Edward Fairholme and his 
 wife across the Atlantic. 
 
 ^* In a few minutes," said Gascoigne, as, mounted 
 on an outside car, we were rattled away to the 
 hotel where our friends were abiding — "in a few 
 minutes they will have heard our sad and strange 
 intelligence. And what a change for them ! I can 
 imagine, after the first regret will have subsided, no 
 greater relief than it will be to poor Mrs. Fairholme 
 to feel that her husband's long trial of^ suspense 
 and anxiety is over, and that, delicate as he is in 
 health, he will be spared the long voyage and 
 wearying search so greatly dreaded by them 
 both." 
 
ARRIVAL AT QUEENSTOWN. 315 
 
 " But supposing that Oswald still perseveres in 
 his intention of instituting legal proceedings ? " 
 
 " ' Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof/ We 
 can but hope the best, and trust that he will refrain 
 from dragging his mother's and his sister's names 
 into public and painful notice." 
 
 The evening had quite closed in when we arrived 
 at the hotel, and on inquiring for Mr. Fairholme, we 
 were told that he was out — was not far distant, the 
 waiter said — had probably gone for some " com- 
 mands " into the town. 
 
 " I will go in search of him," said Philip, " while 
 you can prepare Mrs. Fairholme for the hearing of 
 our important intelligence." 
 
 There was an amount of noise, bustle, and con- 
 fusion in the entrance and passages which could only 
 be found in an Irish hotel, and on the eve of an 
 Atlantic steamer's departure; so it was scarcely 
 surprising that, owing to the mistake of a bewildered 
 and apparently half-distracted waiter, I should have 
 been ushered into an apartment which was not the 
 one I desired to enter. 
 
 The room was large and dimly lighted, and, at 
 the first glance, I imagined it to be unoccupied ; 
 but I was mistaken in this idea, for on approaching 
 the sulkily-burning coal-fire, with the intention of 
 
316 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD.' 
 
 drawing for warmth on its scanty resources, I per- 
 ceived that the high-backed old-fashioned chair 
 that stood before it was not without a tenant. 
 He (for it was an individual of the male species, 
 who in his comfortless seat seemed wrapped in the 
 gloomiest of reveries) appeared a total stranger to 
 ine, nor could I — for the idea of a mistake on the 
 part of the bustling waiter did not at the moment 
 suggest itself — account for his presence in what I 
 concluded, naturally enough, to be the private apart- 
 ments of my friends. 
 
 I made my approach to the fire without any 
 suspicion of being an intruder; moreover, I even 
 went the length of stirring the smouldering embers 
 into a blaze, before I perceived, by the flickering 
 light which burst momentarily forth, that the pos- 
 sessor of the room was a Roman Catholic priest. 
 
 At the moment of my discovery, it being, I 
 suppose, the stated time for such a service to be 
 performed, a half-ragged official came into the room, 
 and with a magic touch, turned upon the scene a 
 perfect blaze of gas, which lighted up every distant 
 corner, and revealed to me the dark and astute 
 countenance of Father 'Donovan ! 
 
 That the recognition had been mutual was 
 evidenced by the sudden flush which spread over 
 
FATHER O DONOVAN. 317 
 
 his sallow cheek as he rose from his chair, and 
 made me a ceremonious bow, betokening, by its awk- 
 wardness, the confusion of his mind. 
 
 For a few moments we both remained silent, for 
 surprise on my part rendered speech impossible; 
 but the priest speedily recovered himself, and with a 
 ready audacity, which, I must confess, excited my 
 admiration, he inquired, with perfect composure, 
 after the health of our mutual friends I 
 
 He was a man of the world, certainly, as Fair- 
 holme had described him, or he never could so imme- 
 diately have entered into the spirit of the part he 
 was to play. 
 
 "And how is our eccentric friend, Fairholme?'* 
 he said. " Fishing, I have heard, somewhere in 
 the west. I used to fancy that he did not care 
 about that kind of thing; but we know he was 
 always changeable in his habits. You have fallen 
 in with him, probably ? " 
 
 During the priest's speech I had had time to 
 collect my scattered thoughts ; and although I con- 
 fess that my first impulse had been to hurl his evil 
 deeds in his teeth, after the manner threatened by 
 Philip Gascoigne, yet a few minutes' reflection con- 
 vinced me of the folly of such a proceeding, and I 
 resolved, pendmg the arrival of those better qualified 
 
318 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 to express their resentment, to keep silence, at least 
 from had words. 
 
 "Mr. Fairholme," I replied, stiffly enough, "has 
 been spending some time in this country, and I have 
 had the pleasure of being his companion." 
 
 " Ah ! And were you not surprised to find him 
 here ? A philanthropic freak, was it not ? — religious 
 Don Quixotism — fighting windmills in the wilds of 
 Connaught!" and he laughed slightly, an embar- 
 rassed, forced laugh, I thought ; whilst I, to my 
 great relief, was saved the annoyance of a reply by 
 the opening of the door, and the entrance of 
 Gascoigne. 
 
 For a moment, as the priest's face was turned 
 towards him, the two men confronted each other in 
 silence ; and then, to my infinite surprise, Philip, of 
 the extent of whose effort to command his passion 
 I had afterwards an opportunity of judging, turned, 
 and left the room, after beckoning me to follow 
 him. 
 
 " Go back," he said, in a voice so changed by 
 concentrated emotion, that I had some difficulty in 
 believing it to be his. " Go back, and keep an eye 
 upon that man. Do not lose sight of him for a 
 moment; and if you, Mark, do your part of the 
 work well, he shall not again escape us ! " 
 
MOUNTING GUARD. 319 
 
 " But what is your object ? and for how long a 
 time am I to mount guard over this dangerous 
 priest?" 
 
 " Only till my return, which will be speedy, with 
 a warrant for his arrest." 
 
 "A warrant for his arrest? Why, Gascoigne, 
 you cannot have forgotten the cogent reasons for 
 keeping all this odious business quiet — you cannot 
 have forgotten that " 
 
 " I have forgotten everything," exclaimed Philip, 
 almost angrily, " save and except the villany of that 
 priest — poor Cyril's fate, and the destruction of 
 mine and Eva's happiness. But go back now — I 
 shall not lose a moment, nor will I run the risk 
 of a meeting with Edward Fairholme, which might 
 tend to weaken my resolution." 
 
 He was gone before I could venture on another 
 word of remonstrance, and for a moment I stood 
 looking at the empty place where he had stood, and 
 wondering what next I was to do. Should I return 
 to the room I had lately left — the room which, 
 having been evidently engaged by 'Donovan, I 
 had no right to enter ; or, remaining outside, should 
 I act my gaoler's part, with the chance either of the 
 priest's suddenly discovering the false position I was 
 placed in, or of meeting the inquisitorial eyes of 
 
320 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIED." 
 
 strangers, who might suspect, and with reason, that 
 I was doing something I was ashamed of? These 
 were the questions which I asked myself; and, 
 while waiting vainly for the answers. Fate, in the 
 person of Father O'Donovan himself, took the 
 decision out of my hands, and left me no choice but 
 to obey the impulse of the moment. 
 
 He came out into the narrow passage, with his 
 hat upon his head, and a long dark cloak flung over 
 his shoulders ; evident tokens, both of them, that the 
 wearer was contemplating an exit which it behoved 
 me if possible to prevent. 
 
 I have no doubt that I looked foolish enough 
 when the priest, with a slight raising of his broad- 
 brimmed hat, prepared to pass me by, and continue 
 on his way : there was, however, no time to be lost, 
 for if I were to obey Philip's orders, and be true to 
 his cause, it was evident that I must act at once. 
 
 " Mr. O'Donovan," I said— I could think of 
 nothing better, by way of commencement^^" will 
 you allow me the honour of a few minutes' con- 
 versation?" 
 
 " Another time," he said, hurriedly ; " another 
 time. I have an appointment of importance, for 
 which," he added, looking at his watch, "I am, 
 unfortunately, already late." 
 
BROUGHT TO BAY. 321 
 
 ** I will not detain you a moment," I said ; and 
 devoutly did I hope that I might be enabled to keep 
 my word. " And," I continued, edging myself round 
 to the side nearest to the hotel entrance, for I was 
 anxious to gain time, " I think when you have 
 heard what I have to say, you will feel that your 
 time has not been thro^^^l away." 
 
 He looked very sulky, but, as I fancied, not 
 at all suspicious of any ulterior projects, although 
 the sudden entrance and exit of Philip Gascoigne 
 must, I should imagine, have both surprised and 
 mystified him. 
 
 "It is very annoying," he half-muttered to him- 
 -self, as he reopened the door of his room, and 
 stepping back, motioned me to enter. 
 
 The full glare of the gas fell upon his counte- 
 nance as Ave again took our places near the fire, 
 and I noticed that his was even sallower than before, 
 and his brow more dark and lowering. 
 
 " You are aware," I said, " of my life-long inti- 
 macy with Edward Fairholme, and can therefore 
 well understand that his interests are dear to me — 
 that I feel for his sorrows, and adopt his wrongs as 
 my own?" 
 
 " Very probably," he replied, drily, and, as I 
 thought, insolently ; " but as I do not happen to 
 
322 THE CKUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 be similarly circumstanced with a person who has 
 always shown himself an enemy to my creed and 
 personally hostile to myself, you must excuse me if 
 I do not as yet perceive the importance to me of 
 this — ^this rather inconvenient delay." 
 
 His tone was so insulting that it threw me off my 
 guard. 
 
 " Mr. O'Donovan," I exclaimed, *' this is too 
 much, and you oblige me (by your assumed igno- 
 rance of the past) to remind you of the more than 
 probability that Mr. Fairholme had no secrets from 
 me — none, at least, in which you are concerned — 
 and that all the dark details of events which took 
 place at Westfield prior to Mrs. Tremlett's death, 
 are as well known to me as they are either to 
 Edward or — or to yourself" 
 
 " You must permit me to entertain some doubts 
 on that head," sneered the priest. " Mr. Fairholme 
 w^as, at the time you allude to, in a very singular 
 condition of mind, which may have led him — 
 quite unintentionally, of course — to give a wrong 
 colouring to the events you allude to. They were 
 veneered, probably, by his own — what shall I call 
 them? and what is your name for dissenting 
 fanaticism? — his own Methodistical and Calvinistic 
 views on religious subjects. Really you 'must 
 
NEAR THE TRUTH. 323 
 
 excuse me, but the idea of the very natural occur- 
 rence of a lady professing the Catholic faith making 
 a bequest in favour of that Church, giving rise to 
 such an extraordinary amount of surprise and 
 animadversion, does surprise — does, in short, pro- 
 voke a smile, when I reflect upon such an instance 
 of want of knowledge of the world, and of the 
 common order of things." 
 
 " And," said I, indescribably provoked, " is it in 
 the common order of things, that a young man, 
 whom you found living happily and contentedly 
 amongst his relations, should, so soon after he made 
 your acquaintance, have become separated in heart 
 and feeling from those he once loved and re- 
 verenced ? Is it in the common order of things, 
 that reason should have tottered on its throne 
 beneath the baleful influence of one who, as God's 
 anointed servant, should have spoken words of 
 peace and healing, and have bid the brotherly love 
 continue which he had found an inmate in that 
 happy home?' 
 
 " You speak in riddles," said the priest ; " and 
 I cannot listen to you. I have neither time nor 
 inclination to attend to such high-flown words ; 
 and " 
 
 '' But you have time to listen to one word of 
 
 Y 2 
 
i' TTTTHTHTTVrr. Timi^ " 
 
 324 THE CRUISE OF THE ' HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 grave , announcement," I said, slowly, as I rose 
 from my cliair and faced him. " You have time to 
 hear that Cyril Vernon is no longer in your power 
 — time to hear that your victim is gone to appear 
 in the presence of the Great Judge of all mankind, 
 before whom you, too, will stand to give an account 
 of your works." 
 
 I had kept my crowning intelligence to the end, 
 nor was I disappointed in the effect which it pro- 
 duced ; for a crimson flush spread over the priest's 
 sallow face, which was succeeded by a deathlike 
 paleness. 
 
 *' Dead!" he exclaimed, while, as if mechanically, 
 he made the sign of the cross. " Dead ! and how is 
 it that you come to me with this melancholy news? 
 I left him well in health, and enjoying the peaceful 
 seclusion of the Convent home which he had 
 chosen." 
 
 " You left him in a prison, from which you had 
 no fear that he would escape," I said, sternly. 
 " But the intellect of that poor young man was not 
 so wholly stultified but that he knew friends from 
 foes, and could prefer, to the miseries of captivity, 
 the free air of Heaven, and the liberty which God 
 has given to us all. Man," I continued, almost 
 fiercely, for my wrath grew as I called to mind 
 
THE ARREST. 325 
 
 the terrible mischief he had wrought, — " Man ! the 
 Hour of retribution has at last struck, and punish- 
 ment will be dealt by the hands of those whom 
 you have so basely injured." 
 
 He rose from his chair as I spoke, and tottering 
 rather than walking towards the sideboard on which 
 he had deposited his hat, he muttered some words 
 about hurry and an appointment, and said that he 
 was losing time ; but before he could put his resolve 
 into execution, I stood beside the door, and laid my 
 grasp upon the handle. 
 
 "You shall not leave the room," I exclaimed; 
 but even while I spoke, I half regretted my pre- 
 cipitancy, for I was his only warder, smce any call 
 for assistance in the capture of a, priest would 
 probably, when made by a stranger and a Protestant, 
 have been worse than disregarded. 
 
 Seeing my indecision, 'Donovan began to 
 recover his presence of mind, and was even com- 
 mencing a kind of blustering menace, when the 
 door opened from without, and, to my infinite relief, 
 Gascoigne, followed by a couple of policemen, en- 
 tered the room. 
 
 " There is your prisoner," he said calmly to the 
 official who held the warrant ; and the latter, after 
 having informed the now trembling priest that he 
 
326 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 stood charged with the offences of assault, embezzle- 
 ment, and kidnapping, led the offender against 
 the law unresisting and in silence from the apart- 
 ment. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 RESTITUTION LAST NOTES EXEUNT OMNES. 
 
 Several months had passed away since the arrest 
 of Father 0' Donovan, and no public trial had 
 followed on an event which seemed prophetic of 
 exposure and well-merited retribution. But although 
 the blazoning forth to the world of the misdeeds of 
 that scheming man was prevented by his own timely 
 yielding to the pressure of circumstances, and to the 
 salutary promptings of his legal advisers, yet retri- 
 bution did come in the shape of a restitution on his 
 part of the ill-gotten gains which he thought to 
 have made safely Ms^ or, rather, let us charitably 
 hope, the property of the Church whose willing 
 tool he was. 
 
 Westfield — pretty, smiling Westfield — became 
 again the property of the Tremlett family ; for proof 
 of the iniquities practised by the priest were so 
 irrefragable that he made no attempt to retain pos- 
 session of that which he had obtained both by fraud 
 
328 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 and violence. The death of poor Cyril had removed, 
 in a gi'eat measure, the shield which dread of Ms 
 condemnation had thrown over the man who had 
 prompted him to evil. The poor fellow's last words, 
 also, in the absence of any proof of his insanity, told 
 alarmingly (when coupled with Fairholme's testi- 
 mony) against Father O'Donovan ; so, after a three 
 weeks' imprisonment, the latter, yielding to the threats 
 and remonstrances of the able men professionally em- 
 ployed by his opponents, surrendered unconditionally 
 to the enemy ; and, as I before said, restored all the 
 possessions he had unlawfully acquired (including the 
 misguided Mrs. Tremlett's letters to her protegee)^ 
 into the hands of their legitimate owners. 
 
 What has since become of the principal actor in 
 this sad drama I have not heard ; but I can well 
 believe that a spirit so restless and ambitious can 
 never remain quiet, or cease from troubling, so long 
 as strength remains, or mental energy to direct him 
 in the grasping enterprizes in which his soul delights. 
 
 Of Oswald Tremlett I have little to say, save 
 that he took triumphant possession of Westfield, 
 and married (as I was informed, for I have not as 
 yet had the good fortune to make her acquaintance) 
 a lady well suited to share in the quiet routine of 
 country life which Bertha's brother leads, and will 
 
RESTITUTION. 329 
 
 continue to lead, till he and his wife repose together 
 in the old family vault at Westfallow. Mrs. Trem- 
 lett, I have been told, manifests decidedly Low 
 Church tendencies, and has very seriously taken to 
 task a young curate in the neighbouring town 
 (namely, the Westfallow above mentioned) for the 
 grave errors of preaching in a surplice, and allowing 
 his beard and whiskers to grow beyond the regula- 
 tion length allowed to ministers of the Gospel by 
 those who share the busy lady's religious opinions. 
 
 There is every reason to hope that the castle and 
 estates of Kilnagi-astha will not be much longer 
 withheld from their rightful owner ; for Milady 
 O'Shaughnessey is beginning to show signs and 
 symptoms of departure, since the full time, aye and 
 more, had arrived when the delivery of the pro- 
 perty to Philip Gascoigne should have taken 
 place. 
 
 He, like an excellent fellow as he is, did not 
 disturb either the lady or her kinsfolk in the work 
 of spoliation. 
 
 " She cannot take the old walls away," he used 
 to say, " or the bog, and as to timber there isn't a 
 stick worth cutting down. No, there is nothing but 
 the rents for her to appropriate, and as the old 
 man settled nothing on her, I don't grudge the 
 
330 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 widow that small result of her picking and steal- 
 ing." 
 
 So, for the present Lady O'Shaughnessey remains 
 in her mountain fastness, while Philip Gascoigne, 
 although the winter has come and gone, is still in 
 the little Deenish Island, biding the time when his 
 duties as an Irish landlord will entail upon him a still 
 greater expenditure of time, watchfulness, and care. 
 
 " And how did you contrive to pass the hours 
 through those three dreary winter months ? " I asked 
 of Edward Fairholme, as, one bright spring morning, 
 we were lounging in the shrubberies of Okecliff. 
 
 "Very well, and without an hour of tedium," 
 answered Edward ; " and even Bertha, who had 
 many a lonely hour to pass, never complained of 
 dulness, or expressed a wish to leave Philip Gas- 
 coigne alone." 
 
 " How could I ? " said a soft voice near us, which 
 could only belong to Fairholme's wife, "how could I, 
 when there was still hanging about him the shadow 
 of that great grief which followed on poor Cyril's 
 death?" 
 
 " But at last," said Edward, " he can acknowledge 
 that all is for the best, and can trace the hand of a 
 merciful Providence in the death of our poor lost 
 Eva." 
 
THE SACRIFICE. 331 
 
 " She sent him such a touclimg message just 
 before she died," said Bertha ; " and it reached him 
 safely, for a Protestant friend of her childhood was 
 allowed to pay her one farewell visit as she lay upon 
 her bed of death. ' Tell him,' she whispered, as 
 she di'ew Mrs. Sandford's kind face down to hers, 
 * tell him I always loved him dearly, more than my 
 soul, I fear, or I should not be dying for him 
 now!'" 
 
 " Poor child ! " I rejoined; " and to think that the 
 image of her lost lover — of the man she would never 
 again behold in life — must have haunted her fancy 
 through those dreary months, must have stood 
 between her and the altar at which she knelt, 
 and " 
 
 "Must have been kept cruelly and painfully 
 alive," broke in Edward, "by the necessity which 
 her religion enjoined of confessing to the priest 
 every passing thought of the heretic, whose image 
 in her heart of hearts was enthroned till that heart 
 should cease to beat, and be laid to rest in the 
 silence of the grave." 
 
 "It has been well for Philip," I said, after a 
 pause, "that he has had so much to occupy his 
 mind and attention ; and it will be better still when 
 the removal of Lady O'Shaughnessey, and her un- 
 
<■(■ TTTTTIr^rT^T^ T^TT^X^ " 
 
 332 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD. 
 
 principled relations, will still more enlarge his 
 sphere of usefulness." 
 
 "And all that surrounds him in nature is so grand 
 and so spirit-raising," said Edward. " The bound- 
 less ocean stretching wide before him, and " 
 
 "The wild swans," broke in Bertha, eagerly — ■ 
 " the wild swans passing on their heavy wings over 
 the dark lake, with the towering spray torn up by 
 the gale tipping their white pinions, and the eagles, 
 the two monster sea-birds, soaring in graceful dig- 
 nity after their prey." 
 
 " They will have that grand country all to them- 
 selves soon, I suspect," said Edward, " if emigration 
 continues at its present rate. The offer of home- 
 steads in the Land of Promise (of Fulfilment, we 
 will not venture to call it) is a temptation too great 
 to be withstood by these soil-loving and vainly- 
 struggling people. Read this," he added, taking 
 a letter from his pocket-book ; "it bears one more 
 true testimony to the wrongs of a class, and the 
 short-sighted policy, to use no harsher term, of 
 landlords and their agents." 
 
 The letter which he handed to me was from a 
 distressed Irish widow of excellent character, en- 
 treating my friend Fairholme's intercession with the 
 landlord whose right to eject^ though clearly indis- 
 
THE widow's petition. 333 
 
 putable, seemed about to be executed with harsh and 
 undue severity. 
 
 " Sir," so the letter ran, " I feel indeed great 
 reluctance, after your great kindness to me, in again 
 venturing to address you, but I do not expect that I 
 will ever again have occasion to trespass on you. 
 In last year I put together all the means that I 
 could collect to send my son to America, but hoping 
 that he would not only repay me, but send, in 
 addition, something substantial to assist me and my 
 long young and helpless family. The unfortunate 
 state of affairs in America prevents his sending me 
 the promised assistance, and in consequence our 
 
 landlord, Colonel , has served an ejectment for 
 
 the rent due by me on the 1st November last. The 
 Colonel is of course entitled to get his land or his 
 rent ; but my poor husband, Dominick Grady, having 
 expended £35 in building a house, and £30 more 
 in improving the land, the last request I make of 
 the Colonel is that he would allow me to dispose of 
 my interest in the little holding of land ! 'Tis true, 
 I have no lease nor legal title ; but when my poor 
 husband spent his money, his labour, and his time 
 in converting a bleak, barren spot into a sightly 
 holding, he trusted to the honour of the Colonel that 
 
334 THE CRUISE OF THE " HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 his family would not lose the fruit of his expendi- 
 ture without equivalent remuneration. If, in your 
 humanity, you submit my case to the Colonel, you 
 will have the blessing of a widow and orphans, and 
 their daily prayers to Heaven for your long life, 
 health, and every happiness that the world can give 
 you and yours, ever will be the prayer of 
 
 " Your obedient, humble servant, 
 
 "Margaret Grady." 
 
 " And were you successful in your mediation?" I 
 asked, as Fairholme restored the letter to its place. 
 
 " Not in the slightest of all possible degrees," 
 was his reply. "However, the widow was spared 
 (by a little aid which I collected for her) the 
 miseries as well as the bitter mortification atten- 
 dant on ejectment, and she, with her *long weak 
 family,' are, I trust, by this time, safely housed 
 in an uncleared Lot in the Western States. Hard 
 lines, I grant, but not so hard as the * tender 
 mercies' of that too often least pitying of subor- 
 dinate tyrants, yclept an Irish agent." 
 
 During the following summer the little " Hum- 
 ming Bird " was again to be seen wetting her light 
 wings on that coast which Sam Slick has so aptly 
 
EXEUNT OMNES. 335 
 
 denominated " juicy ; " while I, lier only owner 
 now, made still sadder notes on the desolate land, 
 (the " emerald gem of the western world "), ere long, 
 and almost without a metaphor, to be " set in the 
 cro\vn of the stranger." 
 
 For the young men and maidens, the health and 
 strength and sinews of the land, are flocking fast 
 from poor old Ireland's shores ; while still the hard- 
 worked, moody priest toils on ; and still, flourishing 
 on his well paid tithes, the congregationless " par- 
 son " goes on his way rejoicing ! 
 
 Early in the mild autumn time twin sons were 
 born at Okecliff", and when they were yet but two 
 months old, Edward Fairholme and his family 
 migrated from their comfortable English home to 
 the rainy clime, and amongst the unloving hearts 
 (at least towards those of their race) which beat in 
 the breasts of the much-tried Connaught peasantry. 
 
 " There is plenty of money, comparatively speak- 
 ing," said Edward, " spent amongst the poor in this 
 prosperous Devonshire parish, whereas, there the 
 wolf, as we had foretold, is more than knocking at 
 the door, and those of their own race and country 
 keep aloof, and come not to their aid." 
 
 So Bertha with her boys went with him to that 
 barren region, far from her own land, and from her 
 
336 THE CRUISE OF THE "HUMMING BIRD." 
 
 many English friends; whilst from the forsaken 
 Sister Island the "gi^eat ships sail outward and 
 return," and over the billowy swell of the broad 
 restless sea the banished children of the soil they 
 loved, wave to the friends they hope to meet again — 
 their " silent Welcomes and Farewells." 
 
 THE END. 
 
 BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WUITEFRIAHS. 
 
 Z' 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 BERKELEY 
 
 Return to desk from which borrowed. 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 ^ Nov '52 
 2fOV 5110,^^^ 
 
 lA) 21-100m-ll,'49(B7146Bl6)476 
 
pjE«?gp7I5gB^i*P?^^fii~.S::MJ?!%'/^-a^ 
 
,! I'-l 
 
 i 1 ;-^!i:iiii;ii:r!vi;T:|?F.! :•!::■ 
 
 'i^ ^^■l ^.i- ■i-•■I>l■t^^:T^l•H■T•;^:l;^!'sl■•;|;::!■3l'?i;J«: