' ^ M/ ;h>iiv^.'v' •;^: « ♦ % w X I ■ ' > f / ,s '. LI BR- A FLY OF THL J / THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. VOLUME I. FEINTED BY WIIXrAjr CLOWES AND SONS, gTAMFOKt) STREET AND CHASING THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. BY MICHAEL BANIM, SURVIVOR OF THE " O'HARA FAMILY " AUTHOR OF " CROHOOEE OF THE BILHOOK," AND SETERAL OTHERS OF THE " O'hARA TALES." IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 1864. [2%e right of Translation is reserved.^ ieHratinn, TO HIS EXCELLENCY THE EAKL OF CAKLISLE, Lord Lieutenant of Lreland. My Lord, In acknowledgment of your kindness to 7ny late brother, to his child, and to his widow, and in testimony of my personal gratitude for the services rendered to myself — it is a gratification to me to avail myself of this ojyportunity of avowing my obligations by dedicating these volumes to you. With the hope that the offering may not be un- worthy of one, even less disthig wished by his high station than by his literary rank, and his bene- volence of nature, I have the honor, my Lord, To subscribe myself Your Lordships obliged Servant, MrcHAEL Banim. Kilhenny, November 25, 1863. PREFACE. It appears to me that, in a greater degree perhaps than might be necessary with other books, this Tale requires a few words of preface. So far back as the year 1825— now, alas ! forty years ago, — I made my first essay as a story-teller, in conjunction with my beloved brother, the late John Banim. He had, before that date, taken up the profession — if such it may be called — of a literary man. He had laid by the painter's pallet, which he had in the first instance adopted as his escutcheon, and had mounted the insignia of his future vocation, — the pen. By the pen he was thenceforth to gain his subsistence. vni PREFACE. He communicated to me his intention of writing some tales descriptive of Irish life and manners: truthful delineations he intended they should be. I urged him to do so, and reminded him of certain occurrences related to us when we were boys. '' I cannot take up your ideas," my brother said ; " you must sit down and commit them to paper your- self." After much persuasion, I complied with his re- quest, and, devoting my spare time to the task assigned me, the result w^as the lale, the author- ship of whxh is avowed on the title-page to these volumes. Thenceforward my brother and I co-operated as joint producers of the tales appearing from time to time under the title of "Tales by the O^Hara Family," my brother residing in London, while I remained w4iere I still live, in, as it is called, " the fairc citie " of Kilkenny. ^\y brother's nom de plume was Barnes O'Hara : PREFACE. IX mine, Abel O'Hara. iVnd thus it was that we carried on our partnership : — We wrought simuhaneously, each at his own con- ception. The productions of Barnes O'Hara were transmitted to Abel, and those of Abel to Barnes ; and our understanding was, that each was at liberty to trim and prune, and, if need were, to alter the manuscript of the other. We never had a disagreement, as to any liberties taken the one with the other : the suggestions of Abel to Barnes, or of Barnes to Abel, were impli- citly adopted by both without a question. Thus we continued to go on together, until my brother, in consequence of the excessive application of his mind, was disabled by the malady which, after many years of suffering, terminated his life, while yet in the prime of manhood as to years. For some time subsequent to his death, I felt a dislike to follow singly the occupation he and I had pursued together ; at length I published a tale named "Clough Fionn," in the Dublin University X PREFACE. Magazine ; " The Town of the Cascades," I now offer as the second single-handed production of "The Survivor of the O'Hara family." I have never been, as my brother was, a literary man by profession. I have always had an occupation, distinct from that of authorship : and almost all through, my devotion to my pen has been desultory. It is not necessary I should here particularize the Tales contributed by me to the O'Hara series, as Abel O'Hara ; I will merely state, that they were not a few. Why do I give, in the shape of a preface, this short biographical sketch ? Plainly, because I would insinuate thereby, that I am not altogether a stranger, making my first ap- pearance on the literary stage. I venture to claim recognition as an acquaintance of some standing. I know full well, that no degree of intimacy will or ought to influence the reading public, if the fare offered be unpalatable or unfit to be served up. PKEFACE. XI With this conviction on my mind, and abiding judgment, — fair^ honest judgment 1 know I shall receive from the tribunal before which I appear, — I offer "The Town of the Cascades" as a single- handed production of the formerly Abel O'Hara, now — The Reader's very humble servant, Michael Banim. Kilkenny, 25th November, 1863. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. j.^^^ INTRODUCTOPwY. — THE BORNOCH BATHING PLACE . 1 CHAPTER 11. a THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. — THE HILL-TOP CHURCHYARD .... 14 CHAPTER m. THE HILL-TOP CHURCHYARD, CONTINUED . .21 CHAPTER IV. BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM . . . .42 CHAPTER V. THE BRIDE AND TEAGUE ARE INTRODUCED TO EACH OTHER. THE WELCOME HOME . • ^^ XIV CONTENTS. CHAPTER Vr. PAGE NORA . . . . . .61 CHAPTER VII. THE BONFIRE ., . . . .69 CHAPTER Vni. THE DANCE . . . . .80 CHAPTER IX. THE MYSTERIOUS RESIDENT OF "THE TOWN OP THE cascades" . . . .88 CHAPTER X. THE "colonel's" GRADE IS DETERMINED. — THE THREE NEIGHBOURS . . . .96 CHAPTER XI. RICHARD o'mEARA's CLIENT . . .105 CHAPTER Xn. HISTORY OP THE WONDERFUL LEG. — THE LILIPU- TIAN ARMY ..... 115 CHAPTER XIII. FAIR ELLEN, HER THREE KNIGHTS, AND HER AT- TENDANT MAIDEN .... 124 CONTENTS. XV CHAPTEK XrV, PAGK MICHAEL AND HIS FOSTER-BKOTHER . . 137 CHAPTEK XV. THE KEG OF POTTEEN. — HOW NED CULKIN WAS MADE PURBLIND . . . .153 CHAPTER XVI. LOVE IN A cottage" . 167 CHAPTER XVn. Michael's gathering griefs . . .178 CHAPTER XVin. HOW Michael's plan succeeded . .190 CHAPTER XIX. suite ...... 207 CHAPTER XX. another SHORT CHAPTER. MICHAEL's SIMILE OP THE BLUE-BOTTLE, AND MICHAEL's IMITATION OF FATHER MATHEW . . . 210 XVI CONTEXTS. CHAPTER XXL PAGE THE WIDOW- woman's PLACE OF " ENTERTAINMENT " 214 CHAPTER XXII. THE "lone room" . . . . 221 CHAPTER XXIII. A " NIGHT OF IT " . . . . 234 CHAPTER XXIV. PLEASANT, HEARTY FELLOWSHIP . . . 242 CHAPTER XXV. further jovial effects of the " crui8keen lawn" ..... 263 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. CHAPTER I INTRODUCTORY. THE BORXOCH BATHING-PLACE. The extent of my experience as a traveller is limited enough. My absences from the spot to which I have been affixed since I was born, have been few and far between. In my aberrations I have never required a clue to enable me to retrace my steps. Foreign countries I cannot speak of from personal observation, and even through my own *' Green Isle," my wanderings have not been wide, nor farther from the centre round which I revolve than such a distance as a two days' journey would accomplish. VOL. I. B 2 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. Yet, if one diverge ever so little from the limit of his own domestic tether, something will present itself not before noticed, — some local distinction, unique, mayhap, in character, — some difference of habit, or manner, or mode of expression, distinguish- ing the " natives " of new ground. So that if one's gusto for novelty be simple, such as is relished by the palate unaccustomed to highly-spiced dishes, food to gratify it may be found almost anywhere. Whenever I can command even a short relaxation from the every-day labour of my domiciliary mill, I like to go about " poking my nose " here and there and everywhere, and I like to examine leisurely and closely anything that is even partially new to me. During the autumn, some years ago, — no matter how many, — I had a fortnight's holiday. This, to me, long period of leisure, I spent at an out-of-the- way bathing-place on the coast of Clare. And there, in one of my "poking" deviations from head-quar- ters, I picked up the materials for the narrative I am about to relate. I call what is to follow a narrative, not a tale. It THE TOWX OF THE CASCADES. 6 will not be a tale, properly so called. You will see, if you have the patience to read it, that there is no hero or heroine, strictly speaking ; — that it wants what every one knows to be the main-spring of a tale, and what sets all the wheels busily turning, — namely, an intricate and embarrassing love affair. You will see that I have no romantic adventures to recite ; — in fact that there are none of the sta- tutable requisites to enable the production to rank as a tale. This then is to be simply a narrative. At my out-of-the-way Clare-coast bathing place, the visitors who come there are called by the perma- nent residents '^ Forneyaghs'^ which Irish word means '^ sea- diver s.^^ And the natives are known by another local appellation — they are " JBornochs.'^ The Forney aghs are regarded as birds of passage who frequent the Bornoch-bay periodically only, their main occupation while there being to submerge themselves three or four times daily under the waves that roll in from the Atlantic for their use. This they continue to do while the fine weather lasts, but as winter approaches they take flight with 4 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. the swallows to another land. The " Bornochs " or natives are, on the contrary, fixed to the spot, and must there remain during all seasons and in all weathers. " Bornoch " is the Irish name for limpit, which species of mollusca abound along the coast, remaining fastened to the rocks all the year round. So, to use the language of the locality, I was a " Forneyagh " at this unfashionable place of resort during the period of autumn, some years since. A description of the "Bornochs" or Bornoch village, as I shall call it, not being necessary to my purpose, I will not enter on it. It will be sufficient here to say, that the village of the Bornochs stands above a nearly circular bay opening into the wide Atlantic, which rolls along in majesty ; and that the waves, which abroad rise mountain high, are here broken against a strand, smooth and level beneath the feet of the " Forneyaghs " who disport in the waters. I may add, what I found in my own instance to be true, that the air about is salubrious and health-giving to the sea-divers. THE TOWX OF THE CASCADES. 5 Two miles inland from the Bornoch villa«^e is o what I believe I must call a town. Of much more importance it is than the humble bathing-place. It is too pretentious to be classed as a village, and yet hardly of sufficient extent to deserve the appellation of "town." Still, to avoid giving offence I will so name it. There may be, houses and huts as they stand, three hundred dwellings within the precincts of this town. It is admitted by census- takers that Irish houses contain as many inmates, to speak moderately, as the houses of any other country. — And it is a peculiarity which, I believe, has puzzled political economists, that the smaller the houses the more close their resemblance to beehives (as regards population). The three hundred houses forming the town of which I now speak, contained, I should say, two thousand " souls " big and little, young and old. There is a main street in this town to the extent of eighty or one hundred houses on either side. A church terminates the view down the main street. It is plain to see that many well-to-do people are 6 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. located here, witness the good, carefully-kept dwell- ings, and the display of shop-wares — neither scanty nor unattractive. It is not difficult as you pass along to discover the magnates of the place in the busy, thriving owners of extensive estabhshments, or to separate from these the struggling, hard-pressed traders. You can easily understand what the pom- pous carriage of the first, and the unpretentious bearing of the others signifies. And still easier is it to recognize those w ho have nothing at all to boast of in a worldly way. You will find the great, the less, and the least, with a locally established scale for measurement, wherever there is a congregation of human beings. There are many dingy cabins in the neighbour- hood of the main street, and the place has also its " genteel " residences, — small houses where "genteel" people live. In the outskirts there is a good Roman Catholic place of worship, and a plain but extensive building on a height particularly attracted my notice. I learned it was a convent school. But as I do not intend to become the typo- THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. 7 graphist of this " town," I will not enter further into particulars, except where they will answer my purpose. The walk from the village of the Bornochs to this more important town of , is through a country of singularly uneven surface, of which more here- after. You enter by a road running parallel with a river which flows at your left hand, its banks, as you near the town, being clothed with fine old trees. From this road you pass over the bridge spanning the river. If you pause on this bridge, and you can hardly avoid doing so (you will be curious to learn why the water is so noisy in its passage), you will see, immediately below you a succession of cascades, — the whole breadth of the water falling from one rocky ledge to another in pellucid sheets, foaming and tossing, and falling over another, and another, and another ledge : — then rushing rapidly onward, and finally, flowing calmly and smoothly, as if fatigued by so many somersaults, until it is lost to view in its curves round wooded heights that rise 8 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. above it on either side. You will see woods mount- ing above the river to your right and left ; and you will see, overtopping the woods, the mansion of the owner of the district, all forming an attractive but not extensive prospect. Crossing to the opposite parapet of the bridge, the river is seen in its approach to the cataracts. It is curling in dimpled eddies round small, shrubby islands, — smiling pleasantly after its escapades farther up, where it had had to bound headlong over other rocky impediments to its progress. These far- up falls you cannot see from where you stand, but I will bring them under your notice shortly from another point of observation. Before quitting our present position, however, I will direct your attention to two points. Looking up the river, you will see that the banks, right and left, rise pretty high above it, and that there are houses built along those elevated banks. Those to the left you need not particularly notice, but those topping the right bank — those with the broken and THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. 9 uneven footway leading to them — demand some attention. Look at them, and you will understand that they must have been originally intended as residences for " genteel people." You will probably agree with me, that the locality was not well chosen for the class of tenants called in the town of " genteel ;" for immediately below you will see bare- footed women, midleg in the water, thumping articles of household wear with wooden instruments, — " beetling clothes " is the term affixed to the occu- pation. And you will see, near the sturdy hlancliis- seuses, horses, with ostlers bestriding them, drinking the water. "Genteel" people would not readily subject themselves to such annoyances. And I con- clude that these houses to the right were what is called a bad speculation. Whether my judgment be right or wrong in this matter, it is evident that the houses have of late been neglected. They are two stories high, and they have windows at each side of their hall-doors. It is evident, however, that a paint-brush has not been applied to these doors for a very long time ; and 10 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. they are all knockerless, though, it is to be pre- sumed, originally possessed of such appendages. Many of the windows, too, are broken and patched with paper, whilst window-shutters hang by one hinge, or have been used as temporary barriers against the entrance of too much wind and rain. The water-spouts hang in broken scraps here and there, while the unprotected house-fronts are dingy and discoloured — "seecZ?/" houses I will call them, adopting the term applied to persons whose outward garb is threadbare and out-of-elbows. Having duly remarked these half-dozen " seedy " or " shabby-genteel " little houses, I will ask you to carry your eye to the left bank of the river. You will see there a cluster of inferior dwellings, with one or two of more consideration rising above them. But the principal object to which I point is a ruinous building topping a hill of considerable elevation, this hill covered with trees from base to summit. So, at least, it appears to us. I have directed attention to the small, neglected houses to the right of the river, and to the ruin THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. 11 topping the wooded hill on the left, as to these I shall have to refer hereafter. As a further prelude to the events 1 have to relate, I will take a view of a residence contiguous to the town, wherein the principal personages of my narrative dwelt. Passing from the bridge, and going a short dis- tance along the main street, and then turning short down by the post-office, which is in a hollow (a *' genteel" little house by-the-way), a broad and well-kept carriage-road is gained, running parallel with the river, and overhung with lofty trees. This road leads to the mansion-house I have pointed out from the bridge as elevated above the wooded heights that overlook the cascades. Before reach- ing the entrance gates to the grounds of this man- sion, a view is obtained, by looking over a low wall to the right, of a pretty cottage structure. It is a low building, but of some extent. The casement windows are nearly hidden by the evergreens that cover the entire front, but you can see their white musUn draperies fluttering in the breeze. Through the green covering of the cottage, abundance of 12 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. roses of every hue and of roseate fragrance, glisten whenever roses bloom. A rustic porch supporting graceful creeping plants shades the entrance door, and this is flanked on either side by a goodly show of exotics in flower-pot stands. Adjoining the road is a garden well stocked with fruit trees and choice vegetables, and beyond this, nearer to the cottage, and separated by a carefully clipped hedge, is ample space for the exclusive cultivation of flowers. To the right of the cottage, and separated from the gardens by another trim hedge is a smooth field of emerald green studded with trees, whose shadows, when the sun shines, chequer the surface. In the fruit and vegetable garden there is a leafy bower, and in the emerald green field another. From the first bower a person sitting on its rustic bench can see the river cascades, and the verdant slopes beyond, and the woody summits; and the view of the falling waters, and the voice of the fall- ing waters, and the green hill-sides, and the varying foliage, produce a pleasant and dreamy effect on the mind. From the second bower in the emerald field THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. 13 the cottage only, and its gardens, and the trees beyond, are visible. But the dash of the river as it descends is heard ; somewhat clamorous, but sooth- ing and musical, as the sound of falling waters always is. 14 CHAPTER II. "THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES." THE HILL-TOP CHURCHYARD. I SHALL call the little town I have partially described by a name of my own bestowing, " The Town of the Cascades." And by this name it will in future be recognized. During my fortnight's sojourn as a " Forneyagh," in the sea-coast village of the Bornochs, I paid fre- quent visits to the "Town of the Cascades," for the purpose of " poking my nose " in every direction. I have pointed out an abrupt, wooded hill, seen from the bridge when looking up the river, this hill bear- ing on its summit a ruinous building. One of my poking expeditions was to this ruin. My way thither was through a very wretched out- THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. 15 let, where half the grimy cabins were partially tumbled down, and the people dwelling in the few that remained, to all appearance the poorest of the poor. I was obliged to bend my back most incon- veniently while scaling this dilapidated street of hovels. On the apex of the ascent was the ruin I had seen from below. I found that it stood in the centre of an enclosed space, and in the enclosing wall were projecting steps that enabled me to mount up and enter an elevated burial-ground, in the centre of which was the ruin I had almost strained my spine to reach. Like many an object of desire I have scrambled after during my life, I found, now I had gained my goal, that in the roofless building I examined there was nothing to repay me for the trouble I had taken. When looking upwards from the bridge, I had taken it for granted that I was to find some interesting relic of former days. I found no such thing. I could learn that a rude, primitive place of worship had occupied the same space at some un- recorded date. But I now stood by a comparatively 16 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. modern structure, four roofless walls, without anti- quity, or architectural decoration, or legend apper- taining, to give them value. A roofless barn would have been as interesting an object for scrutiny. The history of the hill-top ruin is this. It had been erected on the site of an ancient crypt forty years previous to my visit, and was used as a church. The devotion of its frequenters was not, however, sufficiently ardent to neutralize the fatigue encoun- tered while mounting up, or to reconcile them to the squalor witnessed during the weekly pilgrimage. So the edifice was abandoned, and a new church built of easy access, requiring no more than a modicum of pious zeal to reach it, and in the approach to which there need be no brushing of skirts with anti- christian poverty. The new church I have noticed before, as terminating the view down the main street of my " Town of the Cascades." Seldom, however, do we encounter unmitigated disappointment. If the object we aspire to be mis- understood by reason of its distance, or from the vivid colouring of imagination, we may, provided we THE TOWX OF THE CASCADES. 17 do not give ourselves up to lamentations over our mistake, find that the labour of attainment has not been altogether profitless. This not very profound reflection I made as I sat on a gravestone in the high-up churchyard I had gained. The excursion of the eye over an extended plain, meanderino^ throuo^h which you can note the slow progress of a river gently flowing, and where you can see trim meadows, and clipped hedges, and em- bowered farm-houses, and a mansion with woods clustering around, and villages, and village-spires, and sheep and kine, and people busy at their tasks — the excursion of the eye, I say, over a landscape such as these objects make up — is most cheering and grateful to the spirit. But to please what may be the idiosyncrasy of my taste, the country I now viewed around me was more attractive and mettlesome. As I looked down from my elevated point of observa- tion, I formed on the spot a geological system of my own to account for the appearance of things. To adopt Cow^per's view of the subject, I dropped my own " bucket " into my own " empty well." I VOL. I. C 18 THE TOAVN OF THE CASCADES. supposed that at some time or other, when the por- tion of our globe beneath me was settling into consistency, the area my eye took in must have been in a state of turbulent ebullition on a large scale, the fluid matter surging and boiling, and tumbling and tossing, and rising up in gigantic inflations and irregular heavings. I further supposed that while the throes of the agitated mass were most excessive and obstreperous, a sudden refrigeration had taken place, and that while yet rising and falling furiously, the boiling fluid had become solidified. Following my theory, which I have propounded to suit my pur- pose, I was now perched on the summit of one of the most riotous of the heaving waves. Whether I looked east or west, north or south, there were nothing but hills and hollows. Some of these hills were conical, some more rounded in form, some ridgy and craggy, some of easy ascent, some precipitous — in fact, every form of hill you can conceive was there — no level spot — no plains — all irregularity. The greater number of the hills were green or cultivated, many were heath-clad, THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. 19 some rocky and barren. Hills, hills, hills, endless hills ! And then there were dells, and hollows, and defiles also, without limit. There were little wooded valleys, the foliage sometimes creeping up the adja- cent ascents ; there were dells choked up with furze and brushwood ; there were gloomy, untraceable defiles — the whole appearance of the land vouching for the plausibility of my geological theory. This topsy-turvy aspect of nature did not want its signs of life. Farm-houses, perched in shady spots, were numerous. And there were workers on the soil. I could see reapers, and hay-makers, and turf-cutters. And there were cattle up the hill- sides, and down in the hollows. Then again, nothing could be more fantastic than the play of light and shadow over the uneven sur- face. Yonder, a spot of sunshine, close thereto, deep shadow — sunshine and shadow alternating in infinite variety wherever I looked from my grave- stone observatory. The bridge from which I had ascended was so immediately below me that I could not see it, but the sound of the tumbling river came to me, mellow and refreshing. 20 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. The sun, in his progress to the west, threw his lustre more positively in that direction than to north, or south, or east, and the features of the scene so lighted attracted my particular notice. At the farthest point of vision I could see the ocean — the Bornoch bay I judged it to be — reflect- ing the full lustre of the sun's rays. I could trace the windings of the river for two miles of its course as it flowed towards me, rushing through a narrow dell, impatient and hurried. Here woods rose above it — there it chafed against rocks — anon the motion was grave and somewhat level. There was a mill on its banks, a mile away. I could not hear the clatter of the wheel, but I could discern its motion as it flung the spray from it in its evolutions. A favourable position for a mill that must be, for just above its site I could see the river precipitated down from a considerable height, the water glittering like a sheet of polished silver as it fell. From the landscape below me I brought my inspection nearer home, to the immediate spot around. 21 CHAPTER III. THE HILL-TOP CHURCHYARD, CONTINUED. It is a truism neither new nor profound, that the visit to a churchyard induces the visitor to become a moralizer. And no wonder. The promptings to serious thought are everywhere around. For my own part, however, I seldom moralize in such places : in the present instance my cogitations were anything but deep or sombre. Cemeteries on an extensive scale have been not unaptly termed " cities," and this hill-top place of rest to the weary might in that sense be called a "village of the dead." It was circumscribed in space, descending very little below the crown of the nearly-conical elevation. But a very populous vil- 22 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. lage it seemed to be ; not an inch of it unoccupied. For the most part its inhabitants must have been shoulder to shoulder as they lay " with their toes to the daisies." A good number of tombstones lay about — oblong slabs supported on low walls of masonry. These marked the final abodes of the defunct who had held a certain status while over- ground, — who had been thriving folk, — who had lived in snug houses, typified by comfortable " tombs " placed above them here. There were many orna- mented head-stones, too, standing upright, some tall, some of middle height, some dwarfish. It was plain to me that beneath these, persons of lesser grade slept, while the respective heights of the head-stones might fairly be taken as exemplifying a descending scale in the sleeper's rank while his eyes possessed " specu- lation." There were a few — very few — railed-in monuments where aristocratic remnants lay apart from the throng. There were so-called " vaults" too, and of unique construction those vaults were, and thus formed, as far as I could judge. A portion of the slaty rock composing the hill being quarried away. THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. 23 a recess was shaped : this was arched over, and the arch covered with sods : the front was then closed up, partly by masonry, and partly by a monumental slate : within the chamber thus formed the orna- mented coffin was placed, where it reposed unsoiled by the churchyard clay. These " vaults" I regarded as the abodes of the "genteel" dwellers on the hill-top. But these distinguishing marks were few in the high-up " village of the dead," as compared with the abodes of the unnoted population ; those who had dwelt in hovels while alive outnumbered all the others by far. A slight elevation above the surface denoted their homes, a rough stone here and there, but of remembered shape, serving to mark to the kneelers who came of a Sunday to pray for those they had loved, where the remains of their dear ones lay. Generally speaking, the Irish are religiously respectful towards the manes of their deceased relatives. But here one was pained by the sight of human remains overground. There is, however. 24 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. an inhospitable soil on this hill top ; it must have been but half true to say, when the aborigines were interred here, that they had been " consigned to Mother Earth ; " — little or no " earth," properly speaking, must there have been to receive them. At the present moment a very scanty sod is imme- diately underfoot ; the early occupiers must have been laid in " narrow houses " scooped out from the rock. Now, when a new dweller comes, there is not room for him ; an old inhabitant must be either entirely or partially displaced to give the incoming tenant accommodation. " Ejectment " must be re- sorted to here, as with the living, and hence the unsightly appearance of human relics and moulder- ing coffin-boards. We take the monumental statuary of Westminster Abbey or of Pere la Chaise as a fair average cri- terion whereby to form a judgment of respective artistic progress, in a national sense. And I see no reason why a parity should not exist, making all due allowances, as regards the stony-hearted churchyard of which I now write. I think the products of the THE TOWX OF THE CASCADES. 25 artist's chisel on the memorials of the dead in a country churchyard, offer reliable evidences as to the degree of sculptural skill attained in the locahty. I go farther even. From the tombstones and head -stones in a churchyard, I judge of the artistic gusto of the inhabitants of a certain area, taking the burial-place as the centre of a circle. I take it for granted that no one will pay for, and place over the remains he venerates, any production that does not come up to his idea of what the sculptor's chisel ought to realize. Reasoning thus, I arrive at two very important pieces of information ; viz., the artistic skill of the district sculptor, and the artistic appreciation of his patrons. In other words, I thus obtain a reliable insight into the degree of civihza- tion prevailing around me. But before I examine the sculpture, I must notice what I regard as an example of praiseworthy eco- nomy and, I would call it, of wise forethought, which might elsewhere be followed with advantage : the ideas of one district transplanted to another, like the products of the soil, are often improved by 26 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. transmission. The monumental inscriptions on tomb or headstone were stereotyped repetitions, the one of the other; scarcely a deviation in any instance. The name of the person to whose memory the tablet had been inscribed was first given, with the age at time of death, and the date of demise. The reader was next made acquainted with him at whose expense the memorial had been raised, where he lived, and what occupation he followed. And then came the information that the monument had been erected in commemoration of a dead wife or husband, or father, or mother, as the case might be — and not only in commemoration of that dead person, but also of his or her posterity ad infinitum, — of the posterity then alive and well, — of the actual raiser of the monument, — of the scions of the family yet unborn. At the extreme termination of the mausoleum slab the usual petition, " Bequiescat in pace,'' was chiselled, a large space being thus left whereon to inscribe the names of " the posterity " as they dropped off and came to the final home pro- vided for them. I need not enlarge on the advan- THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. 27 tages of such epitaphs as these in an economical point of view, or as a sage proviso against the pos- sible falling off of worldly means, where such might happen to the posterity. A connoisseur in painting will decide, from the tone of colouring, the mannerism of touch, and the peculiar ideality, as to the master who produced a doubtful picture. In like manner I was able to discern that the same artist's chisel had carved all the funereal sculptures that fell under my notice. A representation of the crucifixion I found to be a favourite conception. I am deterred by the sacred- ness of it from criticising the manner in which this subject was dealt with. The same feeling does not control me, however, with regard to the angels and doves flying about in every direction, nor hold me back from passing a traveller's judgment on the other bas-reliefs embellishing the monuments. There were certain characteristics distinguishing the angels I found here from any I had seen else- where, as the product of pencil or of mallet. None of the angels in this " village of the dead " were at 28 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. rest : all were in full flight, as if eagerly bent on the execution of a mission. They were all devoid of arms too, and the wings were inserted, not at their backs, where angels' wings are generally placed, but sprang immediately from the socket of the shoulder joint. The wings were not pointed in shape, that is, they were as unlike the wings of a swallow as could possibly be ; indeed they bore no resemblance to the wings of any bird of the air that I know of. From the insertion to the extreme point the plumes were all of the same length, each plume shaped after the fashion of a horse-chestnut leaf, and indented pretty much alike. By this construction of wing, I understood the artist to convey the idea that his angels were better adapted for long flights than for speed. All the celestial messengers were without attire, and all so thin and spare that you could count the ribs along their sides. At first I could not reconcile this cadaverous appearance with my preconceived idea of angelic beauty. But on reflection, I understood it as a matter-of-fact dehne- ation of ethereality. THE TOWX OF THE CASCADES. 29 A certain local mark of celestial mission I must not pass, inasmuch as a due regard of the insignia, when once understood, enabled rae to correct my eiTor when doubtful as to the being I examined. Sprouting from the head of each angel was a small cross, — not always elegantly formed, 1 must admit, and not always springing from the same place. Sometimes the small cross rose up from the centre of the forehead, sometimes from the right temple, and in some instances from the left. Although I have bestowed some attention on the matter, I have not been able up to this to satisfy myself why the artist should have affixed the emblem so differ- ently, unless he would thereby denote a variety of individual character ; the steady angel, I should say, wearing his cross in the centre of his forehead, the rakish angel over the left temple, the most intelli- gent, above the right. There seemed to be grades of angels too. One I irreverently mistook at the first glance for the representation of an owl. The large, staring eyes, the solemnity of the fleshless face, the beak-like sharp- 30 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. ness of nose, the disposition of the hair, and a leg- less body, clipped round as if with a shears where the legs should spring from, led me to form this erroneous judgment, when the small cross above the forehead set me right. The want of legs in this instance I understood as typical of inferior rank. Another, having a cross springing up in the centre of the forehead, directly over the nose, and having, moreover two other crosses, one over each temple, I had no hesitation in regarding as an archangel. I was particularly struck with the idea conveyed by the attitude of a third celestial. His ethereal legs (that is, ethereally denuded of human flesh) were carelessly crossed over each other above the knees, while he was upborne on his expansive and umbrageous pinions. I understood the pose to mean, that flying was no inconvenience to him, and that he enjoyed it. Above a chalice the angel Gabriel soared, — his trumpet, fully as long as himself, plainly establishing his identity as the angel Gabriel. Both of the skin- THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. 31 and-bone legs of the angel Gabriel were kicked up behind his back to the height of his shoulder. Certainly no disposition of limb would more distinctly denote what I took to be the artist's idea, — the intensity and vigour with which he discharged his mission of soundinor- the summons to the dead. I should remark that the angel Gabriel alone, of all angels round, was provided with a hand and arm, to enable him to grasp his trumpet. One only was given him ; he had no necessity for a second, as he did not blow two trumpets. I have said 1 would not exercise my critical pro- pensities where the subject of the crucifixion called forth the artist's genius. This subject, with angels, and chalices, and doves were the chosen delineations around me. I must in candour admit that the chalices were not after any classic design I remem- ber to have seen. And I must farther give it as my judgment that the doves were chiselled so as to give a character of pertness not belonging to this gentle bird. I am more inclined to bestow eulogy than condemnation, yet I must say that these monumental 32 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. doves bore a strong resemblance to sparrows, — as if the artist had adopted for his models the saucy birds he was accustomed every day to see. As I perambulated over the graves, making my observations, I paused before one of the peculiarly constructed "vaults" I have described. I was induced to do so, as the inscriptions on the tablet varied somewhat from what I have called the stereo- type that generally prevailed. I copy it from my note-book : — " Erected over the remains of his dearly beloved and sainted mother, by Kichard O'Meara. In testimony of his love for her while living And his reverence for her Memory. Christian Reader, Kneel and pray for a happy Eternity to the soul of Mrs. Ellen O'Meara, Who lies buried here — and who died in her thirtieth year. Eequiescat in pace." There was in this epitaph a tone of simple, unos- tentatious affection that interested me, and I obeyed the call made upon me. I knelt and prayed, as the son asked me to do. I then scanned the inscription THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. 33 over, and was engaged imagining a biography for this young wife, when a low musical voice accosted me. Even the Irish brogue can be made musical by a pleasant, plaintive voice. " May your prayer be heard, Sir, an' I am sure it will. If she isn't a blessed saint already she will be one. For she was good, — an innocent, — an' comely. She died young, poor soul, — an' to my belief she died broken-hearted." These words were addressed to me by a woman who was engaged spreading out her laundry on the gravestones. And verily no better spot could she have found for her purpose than the hill-top church- yard. For the sun shone down fully there ; and there was a pleasant autumn breeze waving the rank gi'ass and nettles, useful for her purpose as well as pleasant to the cheek. I had before casually noticed the woman ; I now looked at her more closely. Never, no matter where, had I seen a pleasanter-looking person. I should say she might be about the age mentioned as that of Ellen O'Meara, for whom I had been praying, at the time of her VOL. I. D 34 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. death, — thirty or thereabouts. She was in very humble garb, but there was a cleanliness and tidi- ness in her apparel, and in her manner of wearing it. I never saw a cap of more snowy whiteness than that which covered her wavy auburn hair ; and to this there was imparted, by the ornamental muslin tie that fastened behind, an air of taste and simple decoration that struck me as very becoming. I saw that her legs were without stockings, and that her ankles were tiny and nicely rounded, and that as much as I saw above the ankle denoted symmetry. Although she spoke to me, I would say, sadly, — yet when I looked in her face there was a smile dimpling it. Not a smile of gaiety, certainly not. The smile of a kindly sympathizing nature it was. The hazel eyes beamed too, with the same expression. " This woman," I said to myself, "is a gentle, amiable, placid creature, cheerful, and hopeful, and blessed with peace of heart." Her smile and look told me all this. As it is very vulgarly expressed, I forth- with " cottoned to her." " You knew the person who lies buried here ?" I asked. THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. 35 *^0h! then surely I did — knew her well, — and loved her well. 'Twas in my arms she drew her last breath, my poor, loving sufferer ! — May Heaven be your bed !" She bowed her head, crossed her forehead, and looked upward fervently as she said this. And yet she smiled notwithstanding. I approached, and sat on a tomb near her. " Every grave here," I said — I felt, somehow, she would understand me, — " every grave here has a tale connected with it, if one could only hold con- verse with the tenants." ** Indeed, Sir, what you say is truth. There was never one born that couldn't tell something worth hearing." " I should like to know something of the young wife whose epitaph I have been reading." " An' how do you know but I'd tell it to you ?" The smile changed ; its sadness partly passed away. She now smiled good-humouredly and her dimples were deeply indented. " I shall be most thankful if you will." 36 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. " You're not from these parts, Sir — I'll go bail you're a Forneyagh ?" "A Forneyagh I am, verily." " An' you're over among the Bornochs ?" " You have guessed aright." "Is it making too free to ask where you're stopping there ?" " Not in the least too free. I have put up my quarters at the little hotel immediately fronting the sea." Here my questioner bent her head a little towards her left shoulder, and looked at me askance, and her smile became mirthful, and her hazel eyes twinkled. " I'd lay a bet that Miss Jenny gives you good ating an' dhrinking ?" "Not better. Quite as good as I need wish for." " Ham an' chickens ?" *'Yes." " An' roast an' boiled beef an' mutton, an' turkeys, an' all sorts ?" THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. 37 ** Exactly." " An' fried eggs, — an' good tay, — an' fish alive out of the bay ?" *' She does indeed — all this." " Ah ! — then how I pity you, my poor man !" And she bent her head and laughed a tiny laugh. During the colloquy she continued to manipulate her clothes as she placed them to dry. " Miss Jenny Ryan takes good care of her boarders, — as long as their purses jingle at any rate. — By coorse you know Michael Hanrahan ?" ^' Certainly, certainly. I could not be at Miss Jenny's hotel without knowing Michael — if you mean the waiter." " As for the matter of being waiter, Sir, I b'lieve poor Michael puts his hand to everything. He gives a help at the cooking, he tosses the beds with the girl, he polishes the knives an' forks, he goes of arrands, — an' " " He dances." " Oh ! — you may say that ! — An' well does he know how !" 38 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. " You seem to be well acquainted with my friend Michael ?" There was downright quiet humour in her laugh as she again bent her head aside, her dancing eyes peering at me as before. '' Ah I — why wouldn't I know poor Michael, when he belongs to me ? — Don't you see — here's his cravat that I'll iron out for him most beautiful." And she held out a square of the whitest possible muslin. "And them are Michael's," as she pointed to certain inner garments, " and them's his aprons that he wears afore him attending at the dinner." " You are Michael's wife then ?" " His downright wedded wife I am, no less. To have an' to hould, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, — 'till death do us part. You see I don't forget one word of all I promised him. An' 'tis far from my intention to forget it, with Heaven's help!" " Michael has been most fortunate in his choice of a wife, at all events." THE TOWX OF THE CASCADES. 39 "I'm not half o^ood enouo^h for him I can tell you." " You seem much attached to him." " That I am, the poor fellow — an' why wouldn't I ? Michael would make a queen of me if he could, an' I take the will for the deed — that's my way." " And an excellent way it is." " I suppose, Sir, you didn't come to this time of your life without getting married ?" " I am a married man truly." " An' by looking at you, Sir, I think you have a wife that takes care of you." " No doubt of that either." " Well, all I can tell you about it is this. If you had a cross-grained, cantankerous wife at home, I'd give you my advice to swim out in the say so far that you couldn't come back, sooner than go home to her again." I spent nearly an hour very pleasantly in such badinage as this with Mary, the wife of Michael Hanrahan, the waiter at the little hotel where I boarded. Finally she informed me that she lived in 40 THE TOWX OF THE CASCADES. what I have named " the Town of the Cascades." That she had taken charge of a spa flowing from the cliff within a short distance of the Bornoch village, the water of which, as she averred, " would put iron moulds " on anything it touched. That her business at this spa was to fill tumblers of the water for such of the " Forneyaghs " as " thought it wholesome to have salt wather without an' rusty wather within." That I would find her at this spa every morning early, and every evening, " sitting undher a little cobbey-house " she had contrived in the cliffs, an' in which she would make room for me. And there, if I wished it, she would satisfy my curiosity as to the young wife for whose repose I had prayed. " But," said I, " will not Michael be jealous if you and I sit so much together ?" " Don't you be one bit afeard of that. Sir dear. Michael would thrust me to sit with a younger — ay an' a comelier man than yourself — if it be not making too free to say so. But indeed Michael has no sort of fear on him for me — an' he needn't either." THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. 41 And so, although I found in the hill-top church- yard no time-honoured relics such as I had reckoned on, yet the view of the peculiar scenery I have sketched, — the examination of the hurial-ground, — but above all, the narrative I owe to Mary Hanra- han, repaid me for the clamber upwards. I trust the perusal may recompense my readers for having borne me company thither. 42 CHAPTER IV. BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM. If it be not known to every one, it ought to be, that it is unlucky to get married in May. But sooner than put the cup away from the lip, people will often run risks. Now I would advise my young friends not to precipitate matters so as to make it a " needs must " to enter the marriage state in the month of May. Let them spend that month making their arrange- ments, and take the irrevocable pledge the month following. Let them not henceforward plead igno- rance of the matter. It was a beautiful day in May, when a chaise drove towards the bridge overlooking the cascades THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. 43 I have described. There were white cockades, with ribbon-streamers flying therefrom, decorating the horses' heads. There were four horses, and, neces- sarily, two postilions, — and the postilions' hats bore white cockades also. Within the carriage sat the bride and bridegroom. When ascending the bridge, the rapid pace of the horses was slackened at an intimation from the bridegroom : the face of the bride was seen at the window looking down the river, and the bride- groom's face was seen close to hers, and he was pointing in the direction of the water as he spoke, visibly engaged describing something. And the bride once or twice looked up and smiled in her bridegroom's face. The inhabitants of six or seven small houses at the country-side of the bridge had all rushed out as the chaise drove up. The chaise and four was of itself sufficient to bring out the men and women and children, but the wedding favours in addition set them all on tiptoe. It had been generally bruited that "Tumey 44 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. O'Meara " had been married, or was to be married. As sure as the day this must be " Turney O'Meara ;" and wasn't he bringing home his bride in style ! Ha ! never fear him ! — he was the very fellow to make the most of it. This was the gist of the gazers' observations. But the manner in which the inmates of the car- riage were engaged fell particularly under the obser- vation of a tall, robust man who was standing rigidly erect near the centre arch of the bridge. He had his own leg at one side of his body, and a substitute leg at the other ; the back of his left hand rested against the peak of his gray beaver hat in the style of a military salute, and his blackthorn cudgel, point downwards, was extended from him to the full length of his right arm — in military salute also. The bridegroom happening to look down, recognized the accolade by lifting his hat and bowing, laughing the while. And the bride, smiling cordially, grace- fully bent her head. Then the carriage, making quicker progress, drove on. There was a great hubbub in the main street as THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. 45 it progressed. Those living far up the road run fast down to have a view : those more fortunate, by whose doors the equipage passed, rushed out to the full extent of the footway, and very cordial saluta- tions were given and returned. Down by the little post-office the postilions cau- tiously guided their horses on to the carriage-road running along the river. A little beyond the cot- tage residence I have before described they went, — turned short to the right, and stopped at a small gate that opened into the flower-garden 1 have men- tioned as immediately before the cottage windows. Here the bridegi^oom sprang lightly from the vehicle, and hfting out his bride, placed her beside him. He gave a few rapid directions to the postilions, who passed on with the carriage to the rear of the premises, while, arm-in-arm, the young couple went through the flowers and approached the cottage. And here a few words descriptive of them will not be amiss. The bridegroom was as fine a specimen of manly 46 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. beauty as you could see. He was tall, ftiUy six feet in height ; his chest was ample ; there was an undulating taperness from his shoulders to the ex- tremity of his limbs ; there was an elastic springiness in his movements, resulting from the perfection of his proportions, and set in motion by the buoyancy of his nature. There was an exuberant and even an ardent gaiety in his dark eye ; even at rest, there was a smile on his lips, ready to expand to merri- ment. But his dress was rather dashing than in good taste. In the way he wore his hat, a little to one side of his head, together with his genial air, and other characteristics, there was what would compel you to admit that you looked at a man brimful of animal spirits and of sanguine tempe- rament. The bride, with every look and movement, gave you the idea of gentle unobtrusiveness, of clinging dependence, of entire devotion to her husband. She was beautiful, too, but you forgot to examine the shape of her features, you were so engrossed by their loveliness of expression. THE TOWX OF THE CASCADES. 47 " And this is to be your home, my Ellen," said the bridegroom to his bride ; " unworthy of you, but still our home, my own little wife." " And a sweet, sweet home you have brought me to, Richard. We shall be so happy here, dear Richard!" '' Happy, indeed, my bird — gloriously happy — if I can make you so. I have been, up to this, a careless sort of fellow, — paying little regard to the interests of No. 1, as they call it ; but now that one and one added together make but one still" — and the bridegroom drew his bride close to him — " I will become another man. I will change to be as sober and as steady as any big-wigged judge that ever sat upon the bench." " Don't try to be over-serious, Richard ; your smile I delight to see. It is my very sunshine. Ah ! I should wither beneath your frown !" " Frown ! — my froiun, Ellen 1 — why 1 hardly know how to frown, my beautiful bride : frowns are not natural to me, I believe. But were my eye- brows frozen together, one look from those beloved 48 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. eyes of yours, sweet Ellen, would thaw them asunder. No, no ! — Not only will I not frown myself, but let me see who shall dare to cast a cloud over one of my Ellen's days with even a curl of the brow. Frown on you, my wife ! Impossible ! Impossible !" "Then happy shall we be in this smiling little home of ours, dearest Richard." " If we be not, there never were two beings happy since the woi'ld began. Ha ! is that you, Teague ? You are the first to greet us, my honest fellow." These latter words were addressed by the bride- groom to a splendid mastiff who came bounding down the pathway towards him. Teague, having reached the object of his welcome, did not frisk about, and caper, — and whine, as a smaller and less dignified specimen of the canine race would have done, — but he elevated his head, looked with the most intense affection into his master's eyes, and sent forth from his expansive chest a modulated, rumbling, and most expressive bow-wow that no one could mis- interpret. It meant " cead miJle faultlia " to you, THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. 49 Richard O'Meara," as unmistakably as a dog could give a salutation utterance. Teaofue was a noble doo^, one of the true mastiff breed seldom seen now-a-days. His coat was of light tan-colour, streaked down the sides with dark brown ; his chest and paws were white ; his head, gear coloured like his sides. He was of large dimen- sions, and apparently of powerful strength. Teague never yelped, — I take the yelp to be a dog's laugh, or an expression of his peevishness, according to modulation. Teague was a silent dog ; but there was an eternal, good-natured smile in his eye as he met you, provided you and he were acquaintances. He was never surly ; serious, however, he certainly was. I have said that Teague was a silent dog, that is, a dog of few words. He did not waste his speech in clatter or gabble ; when he bayed at night to warn irregular characters from entering on his domain, a single deep bark at intervals he con- sidered sufficiently significant. Teague was not a prancing, curveting dog. His motions were deliberate, and there was a self-appre- VOL. I. E 50 THE TOWN OF THE CASCADES. ciation in his mien, free, however, from what is styled dogmatism, that gave you to understand he regarded himself as an animal having heavy respon- sibilities on him, requiring deep thought and prudent deliberation. A stranofer would at once understand the meaning of his look to be : "I have my eye on you ; it is not my intention to do you an injury without good and substantial cause. I have studied human nature closely, and you are an object of study to me this moment. Do not imagine you can impose on me by appearances. If you have no bona fide business here, or if your motive for coming be an objectionable one, the sooner you move off the better. Take my word, I am not to be trifled with ; you will have reason to regret it if I find it neces- sary to expel you by force from the premises I have in charge." No stranger could doubt, as Teague walked round him and eyed him, that could the dog have spoken this would have been his address. I must here acknowledge that I tread on danger- ous ground in the introduction of even so respectable THE TOWX OF THE CASCADES. 51 a dog as Richard O'Meara's into this narrative. Some of the best "characters" drawn by the un- rivalled Charles Dickens are his dogs. The tales wherein they act could not go on half so well without them. Their agencies are nearly indispensable, Their individualities, personal and mental, are brought out as distinctly from the canvas, and are as visible to the reader's eye as any other of the characters painted by that master's hand. I know well, therefore, that it is a dangerous experiment on my part to make my readers acquainted with Teague. It is a matter of necessity with me how- ever. It will be seen in time that on a particular and important occasion Tea.^'!":>^^=^'Ki^